4

Nick glanced at the Christmas tree he’d just finished putting up in the lounge window. It was missing something, but he wasn’t sure what. Lights…check. Baubles…check. Tinsel…check. There was even a clockwork train running around the bottom of it. Nativity under the tree…check. Star on the top…check. He sighed. And yes, he’d checked the colored fairy lights worked too, and they did, so it wasn’t that.

So what was it?

He shook his head and dusted his hands on his jeans. Maybe he’d remember later. Right now he had to run or he’d be late. And that wouldn’t do—not on his first shift at the homeless shelter. He wasn’t counting his visit the day before yesterday.

Jack had been less than thrilled on the phone and at yesterday’s staff meeting, almost demanded Nick recanted his offer of helping. But that wouldn’t happen. Nick had promised he’d be there, and he liked to think he was a man of his word. He shut the front door and jogged down the five floors to where he’d left his car.

He’d also been unable to get Hope out of his mind since yesterday. Hope. Now he knew her name. The mysterious girl—woman—he kept bumping into almost everywhere he went. The cops had insisted he’d saved the kid’s life, but he just did what anyone would have done in that situation. He shrugged it off, not wanting praise or adulation for it, but thanking God for putting him in the right place at the right time.

His feet slid on the pavement. It was icy already and not even four o’clock. That didn’t bode well for the trip home. His breath hung in the air as he scraped the windscreen clear, and then got in the car. He was grateful for his new hat, scarf and gloves, but even with them the bitter cold seared straight through him.

The drive was short. He’d leave the car at home next time and walk. If nothing else, it’d save having to de-ice the car several times.

Nick parked and gazed at the grey building.

It looked more like an office block. Maybe it was, or had been in a former life, but now it was one of these derelict buildings the charity took over at this time of year. A temporary banner hung across the doorway, blocking the building’s former name.

Care at Christmas. Not that it looked very busy. There were no long queues waiting to get in.

He rubbed his hands, his fingers freezing despite the gloves. His breath hung in the frozen air. It always amazed him how cold it could get without a single snowflake falling.

He darted up the steps, almost losing his footing a couple of times, and pushed through the doors into the lobby. Warmth hit him almost immediately, along with the smell of coffee, soup, and what could be a roast, but probably wasn’t. He didn’t imagine the budget ran to that, or if it did, that the owner would want to provide it on a day other than Christmas Day.

Christmas carols played in the background. Nick followed his nose down the hallway into the large room where yesterday’s drama had played out. A few people sat around the long rectangular tables in the center of the room, mugs in front of them, their life in bags by their feet. A hatch on the far wall, lined with urns and pans, had a small queue and people serving.

It looked so different from Sunday. He glanced around, wondering where he should go.

“Can I help you?” A short, dark woman with long, grey dreadlocks with beads on the ends of each plait stood in front of him. Her smile lit her face and shone in her eyes. Along with a hint of recognition, which threw him because he didn’t know her.

“Hi. I’m looking for Victoria Branning. Pastor Chambers said I’d find her here.”

“She’s in the office.” The lady raised her voice. “Hey, Tori, someone to see you.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Nick pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pockets. He undid his jacket and glanced around again. The mood was somber, despite the music.

“I’m Tori Branning. Can I help you?”

He turned.

The owner of the voice was tall and pretty with long dark hair tied back in a high ponytail. Her red turtle neck jumper with white snowflakes complemented her jeans and ankle length boots. She looked as if she’d stepped from a Christmas advert in a magazine or one of those films on the TV.

He held out a hand to her. “Nick Slater.”

She grasped his hand firmly, the light reflecting off the rings on her left hand. “Thank you for coming. Lydia will show you where you put your coat and where the sink is.”

“Sink?” That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“You do know how to wash up.”

Nick kept his face straight. “Yes, I can clean dishes as well as the next man.”

“Good. Lydia will show you.” Mrs. Branning headed back across the room, leaving him standing there, almost reeling with shock in her wake.

“Don’t you mind Tori,” Lydia said cheerfully. “She’s having a bad day, what with the police all over this place since Sunday. The dishwasher’s packed up and it’ll cost mega-bucks to replace. And the baby kept her up all night, but then the baby’s only two-months old, so she would. I’m surprised she isn’t taking maternity leave, but that’s Tori for you.”

“I see. What happened Sunday?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t place him as the ‘hero’.

“Some bloke with a knife held Angel hostage until someone walked in and rescued her. So, the kitchen is this way, sugar.”

Nick followed Lydia through a door at the back of the room.

“You can leave your coat here, but I’d keep your wallet, phone, and keys on you at all times. We don’t get much stuff walking, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

He nodded, and put his coat where she indicated.

“Sink’s right this way.”

Nick followed her into a large kitchen. He took in the stoves with pans boiling on them, dishes of food being prepared, and the massive pile of dirty pans, dishes and cups by the overflowing sink. She hadn’t been kidding about the broken dishwasher.

“Just one or two dishes then,” he said, winking at her.

Lydia grinned. “Would you like some coffee while you work?”

“I’d love one. Black, no sugar…” He paused, his cheeks burning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Lydia laughed. “I don’t mind, sugar. Don’t you go walking on egg shells around me, or anyone else neither. Coffee without milk is black, no two ways about it. Are you sure washing dishes is all right? I’m sure it’s not what you or Pastor Jack had in mind when he sent you here.”

Nick paused in unfastening his cufflinks. “You know Jack?”

“I’ve been going to Headley Baptist since July when I came to stay with my niece Sam and her husband for a few weeks. My home was destroyed so, I decided to move here permanently.”

“I didn’t realize.” Mortified just didn’t even begin to cover the range of emotions flooding him now. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s OK, sugar. You’re new. It takes time to learn everyone’s name. Although, I could get months of teasing out of you sitting in high church.”

He frowned. “High church?”

“I hardly ever see the folks who sit upstairs. Sam calls them ‘high church’ and us folks who sit downstairs ‘low church’. And you don’t get much higher than the pulpit where you sit some Sundays.” She stuck out a hand. “Lydia Wells.”

Nick shook her hand. “Nick Slater. But I guess you know that.”

She grinned. “Sure do, Pastor Nick.”

“Just Nick is fine. Pastor Sugar on the other hand…”

Lydia chuckled. “Maybe I could call you Nick here. I couldn’t do that in church or elsewhere. It wouldn’t be right.”

“OK.” He slid his cufflinks into his jeans pocket and rolled up his sleeves. Some days he may as well wear a dog collar—even though evangelical ministers didn’t do that. “And I happen to like washing up. Which is probably just as well, looking at this pile of dishes and pans.”

“I’ll make you that coffee.”

“Thank you.” He turned to the sink and emptied it of all the dishes. Then he filled it with fresh, hot soapy water. Whistling along to the music, he washed dish after pot and pot after dish. The pile seemed never ending.

When he offered to come and help out, he’d imagined he’d be out the front, talking to people, solving problems for them, helping them. But instead he was out the back, washing dishes.

Nick, washing dishes is as much a service as talking to people. So stop complaining and get to washing. What else did I have planned for tonight? A big, fat nothing. God wants me here, and if washing dishes is what God has planned, then who am I to argue? I can’t always play the hero.

“Someone’s happy.”

He glanced up and smiled at Mrs. Branning. “I like washing up. Actually, I just like being useful, and it beats sitting in front of the TV watching the usual repeats.”

Mrs. Branning winked. “In that case, the rubbish needs taking out. The pig bin needs emptying, and then the floor needs mopping.”

Nick smiled. “Sure. Before or after I’ve finished these?”

“Now, please. And then come and see me in the office as soon as you’ve done that.” Mrs. Branning spun on her heel and left the kitchen.

Lydia looked at him. “I’d have told her where to get off, except, being a good Christian woman, I can’t. You’re volunteering. It’s not like she can sack you if you refuse to do it.”

He winked, drying his hands. “’Cept being a pastor I’m not meant to think things like that, let alone say them. Besides, once I’ve done all the boring stuff, and promise not to evangelize everyone in sight, then maybe she’ll let me pour coffee or something.”

“That is what she originally wanted. Someone to serve drinks and be on hand just to chat to people who seemed lonely. So I don’t know why she stuck you out the back here.”

“Like you said, the dishwasher broke and someone has to do the washing up. It’s all serving, no matter where we are. Where’s the pig bin?”

“That’s the yellow bin out in the back. Ordinary rubbish goes in the black one. Recycling goes in the green one.”

“Yes, boss.” Nick grinned, fired off a mock salute, and picked up the bucket of food scraps. It reeked, yet he somehow managed to carry it outside without gagging. Taking the lid off the yellow bin, the stench increased tenfold, and he did gag. He dumped the waste and replaced the lid, turning away taking several deep breaths, his stomach roiling.

He came back in to find Hope standing in the kitchen, holding two plates of food. She looked tired and drawn. He guessed she hadn’t slept much the previous couple of nights. He put the bucket down. “Hello again, Hope.”

Hope’s smile lit her tired eyes. “Hello, Nick. I didn’t think I’d see you here again. I thought the other day might have scared you off.”

“It takes more than a bloke with a knife to scare me away. I’m volunteering, although I wasn’t expecting pot wash duty.” He paused, aware of Lydia’s interest as he scrubbed his hands. “How are you and Angel doing?”

“She’s OK, aside from the nightmares the last two nights, which I kind of expected. I made her go to school, which didn’t go down over well. She was afraid he’d find her again.”

He nodded. “Why bring her back here?”

“I have nowhere else to go. We’re living here.”

He didn’t hide his shock. “Really?”

“Yeah. For now. I’d better go take this upstairs before it gets cold.” She turned and almost ran from the room.

Lydia cleared her throat. “That was you who saved Angel’s life.”

He moved his head slowly. “Yeah, but please, don’t make any ‘in the nick of time’ jokes or call me a hero. God made sure I was in the right place at the right time.” He paused. “I knew Hope had lost her home, as she used to live in the same place I do, but living here?”

Lydia set another pile of dishes in the sink. “That’s her story and has to come from her, sugar. I’m not one to gossip, even if I did know all the facts.”

Nick smiled. “Maybe she’ll talk to me later.”

“Have fun with that one. She kept to herself before Sunday. And you’d best go see Tori before she comes looking for you.”

He brushed his hands on his jeans and headed to the offices. He tapped on the open door. “Mrs. Branning?”

She turned and smiled. “Come on in, Pastor. Please, sit.”

He crossed to her desk. “It’s Nick.”

“Pastor Nick.” She smiled. “And please call me Tori.”

Nick returned the smile and sat down. “You wanted to see me?”

“I wanted, needed, to thank you for intervening on Sunday. The police tell me that your actions certainly saved Angel’s life.”

“I was just there at the right time.” Nick shifted on his chair; wishing people would stop crediting his stupidity as something more. He’d acted without thinking.

Tori tucked her hair behind her ears. “Anyway, to avoid the police shutting me down, they are stationing two undercover officers here for a while. No one else knows and the only reason I’m telling you is that one of the officers is a member of the church, and you’ll probably know him. I don’t want you inadvertently blowing his cover.”

Nick nodded. “May I ask who? So that I don’t give the game away when I see him.”

“DS David Painter will be here during the day and another officer overnight.”

Nick took a deep breath. “OK.” Glad of the police presence because that would keep Hope and her child safe, something niggled at the back of his mind.

“What are you thinking?”

“About Hope. Whether she and Angel were deliberately targeted or whether it was just random. I’m honestly surprised she’s still here. It’s no place to bring a child. Surely there must be somewhere else…”

“She said she’d tried all the shelters, and I was her last resort. Her home went with her job and when she lost one, she lost the other.”

He leaned back in the chair, stunned shock running through him. “Oh. I thought…” He broke off and rephrased what was running through his mind. “She lived in the same block of flats as I do, and they have a strict no child policy. I assumed the other residents had her evicted because of her daughter. What kind of a job puts her and a child somewhere like that and then just tosses her onto the streets?”

“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you.”

“No, of course not. I understand.”

Tori nodded. “So, once again, thank you for Sunday and for helping out over the next few weeks. I’m sorry to put you on pot wash, but with the dishwasher not working, someone had to do it.”

He grinned. “It’s all service, no matter where I am. If that’s all, then I’d better get back down there. Lydia dirties those dishes as fast as I clean them.” Nick strode back down to the warm kitchen. So that’s why You wanted me here washing dishes, Lord. Perhaps I can help Hope after all. At least I’ll see her again and maybe on a more social level. I’m not sure why my heart beats double time when I see her, but it does.

As for the dishwasher, he’d learned how to fix things in the army and it might be something as simple as a blocked hose or filter. He pulled the dishwasher out from under the counter, switched it off at the mains and got down on his knees to check it over.

Hope’s voice came from somewhere over his head just as he’d gotten the dishwasher tipped backwards. “I don’t think praying is going to fix it, Pastor.”

Nick chuckled. “It’s Nick,” he said, straightening up and clocking his head hard on the corner of the dishwasher. His laugh turned to a groan of pain and he clutched his head. “Owww. Maybe not.”

She knelt beside him and put a tool kit between them. “But this might. Let me see your head.”

Cool fingers ran over what felt like a sizable lump and Nick winced. “Being around you is dangerous,” he joked. “Do you come with a health warning?”

She laughed. “I ought to, but no. This probably feels worse than it looks. I’ll put some butter on it. I think you’ll live.”

“Butter?” he asked. Had he heard her right? Or had the bump to his head confused him?

Hope got up and grabbed a knob of butter. She smeared it over his forehead. “Not sure why it works, but it does.” She offered him a screwdriver. “So, do you know a lot about dishwashers?”

He lay down on the floor again and took the panel of the base. “They clean dishes and do untold damage to heads.”

“Really? I thought they cleaned clothes,” she deadpanned.

He rolled his eyes. “That explains it then, because apparently—” he tugged a dishcloth from the drain in the base of the machine and waved it, “—this one does.”

“I wondered where that cloth had gone,” Lydia said, snatching it from his hand. “But you can’t blame Hope for that. It went missing about a week before she arrived.”

Nick put the dishwasher back together, his head thumping. “Hopefully, this now works. Then I need to find some paracetamol or something.” He plugged it back in and hit the on button.

“Nice one,” Hope said, as the machine chugged into life with a surge of water. She handed him a glass of juice and a box of painkillers.

He took them gratefully. “See, not just a pretty face. Although, once all these bruises start to change color…”

She laughed and turned to leave.

No time like the present. Nick reached out and grabbed her hand. “Have dinner with me.”

Hope hesitated. “I’ve eaten…”

“Tomorrow,” he said, holding her gaze. She really did have the most amazing eyes. “I do two ’til six here. We could eat in the place up the road. We’ll take Angel. Get the two of you out of this place for a while.”

Her smile lit her eyes. “She’d like that. Thank you.” She paused. “I’d like that, too.”

He returned the smile, wiping his hands on his jeans. “So would I. It’s a date.”

She hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. She walked to the door, turned back to look at him, and then left.

His heart warmed. What was it about her that he found intriguing, and so very attractive? He wanted to get to know her better. And he wasn’t sure what she’d infer by the word, date, but he meant it exactly the way it sounded.