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The shelter was buzzing with activity when Harry got there. Brand new folding tables were set up all over the open area, each holding several small, table-top easels, canvases, and paints of every color imaginable. There were stations set up for sculpting, too; one girl about Brenda's age was carving chunks out of what looked like a large stump. Kids worked with everyday items, expensive art tools, and every kind of material that could be found at local craft stores. Selena and Dru both gave her their customary chin nod, but didn't smile back at her.
Ash grinned at Harry and waved her over to one of the tables when she spotted her at the door. She and Ruby were working closely with the younger group, Keaton included, who was staring up at Ruby like he was gazing upon a goddess. Harry ruffled his hair as she approached, and he gave her a dirty look as he smoothed it back.
"How's it going, guys?" Harry asked.
Ruby grabbed a cup of muddy rinse water as it started to tumble, and beamed at all the younger children, glowing like a proud mother. "It's going so well," she said. "They're all so talented." She straightened the apron of the girl in front of her, and the girl rewarded her with a bashful smile.
Ash looked on while Ruby mothered the children, then turned to Harry. "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure." Harry and Ash walked away from the projects and sat down in the empty chairs in front of the television, which had been pushed aside to make room for all the tables. "What's going on?"
Ash drummed her fingers on jeans that looked too new to be painted in. Harry waited patiently while Ash gathered her thoughts, and they looked out at the happily busy kids and teens in the room in silence for a long few moments before Ash finally spoke again.
"I've been thinking a lot about Lee. You know, could someone have helped her a long time ago if they had looked past the walls she put up?"
Harry nodded. She had an idea of where the conversation was going, but she didn't want to rush it. "It's tough to be a kid living without a family or a real home. You have to create a persona, a shell that you won't let anyone crack. You can't let anyone crack it, because if you do, they'll abuse you—or, at least, that's what most of these kids are thinking. And they're not wrong. It's hard as a homeless orphan on the streets. It changes you."
She paused and thought back to a fuzzy, dreamlike time when she had parents, grandparents, and a baby brother on the way that was supposed to solve all their problems. Laughter, smiles, and a sense that everything would be all right permeated the memory. She knew better now. She knew her father was an alcoholic who would leave for weeks at a time, and knew that it wouldn't be long until he had taken her mother to the hospital in which she would die, knew he would soon be gone, too, leaving her in the care of grandparents who didn’t know what to do with a young girl, but who would raise her for the next few years anyhow.
"Did you know I have a brother?"
Ash jerked her head to look at Harry. "You never told me."
Harry grimaced, wondering why she even brought him up. "He's a sore subject. We were separated before he was born. I guess I was probably only about three years old at the time. I went with Pops, and he went with my other grandparents. Granny and Papa took to him in a way that they never could with me, and I only saw him on holidays for the first ten years of his life.”
"Do you see him?" Ash asked. Her voice was low, almost reverent; being reunited with a sibling was a dream she could no longer afford to waste her mind’s real estate on.
Harry shook her head. "Nope. And good riddance to that asshole," she said, standing up. She rubbed her hands together. "I think today I'm going to try my hand at painting. Do you think anyone would pay for a painting by a former cop?”
Ash grabbed her shoulder. "Wait a minute. You can't just leave off with that. Why don't you have a relationship with your brother?"
Harry couldn't remember why she had brought up the topic of her brother, but she regretted it. There were a dozen reasons she never talked about her brother, and a dozen more why she never wanted to see him again. She clenched her fists, then relaxed them and turned to Ash's expectant face.
"I'm sorry, Ash," she said. "He's just not a very good person. He's done things... Lots of terrible things. I don't want to be near him, and I don't want anyone to associate him with me. The last time I saw him, he was just a kid, but he already had a rap sheet as long as any common criminal's, and he wasn't backing down from it. He was proud. Proud to be an awful person."
"What happened to him?" Ash asked, and dropped her hand.
Harry chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Beats the hell out of me. From the time he went to live with them, my grandparents raised him like their own son. They gave him every opportunity to do well. He had every nicety a couple of old people can offer a kid, and his life was like something out of a Hallmark card. The big house, the nice clothes, the great school, a treehouse, baseball, apple pie... American dream." She sucked in a breath and let it out. "And he threw it all away, because he's an ungrateful brat."
Ash looked out at the kids with Harry in silence for a few moments, then put her hand gently back on Harry's shoulder. "Do you think any of these kids will make it out okay? I mean, do you think they'll live to be good people?"
"No one can know that, Ash. Some people have everything, including a loving home, and they turn out like crap. Others have every disadvantage—homelessness, teasing, abuse, scars—and they turn out okay. I won't say that any of them would ever be really okay. Scars only heal so far."
"What does it take to make someone good?"
Busy’s face popped into Harry’s mind, and her stomach twisted with guilt. "Who the hell knows?"
Ash patted Harry's shoulder with finality. "I guess we can only do what we can do, right?" she asked, then walked toward Ruby and her little friends.
"That's right," Harry answered to her back. She stood and watched Ash rejoin Ruby's group and put her hand on the woman's shoulder. It was a different touch than it had been on Harry's shoulder; if they weren't already an item, Harry could easily see the two slipping into those roles for each other. Maybe they could make a life, and even adopt a few of the unloved children that lived in the dark corners of the city.
"Hello, Harry," a smooth, deep voice said from behind her. She recognized Sanura Johnson's voice before she saw her face. The woman came up and stood beside her; she filled the space with an energy Ash didn’t possess. "I wanted to wish you a happy holiday before I go."
"Where are you going?" Harry didn’t turn to look at her.
"Why, do you want to come with me?"
The smile in Sanura’s voice sounded seductive, and Harry was glad they weren’t facing each other. Harry felt a blush come out of nowhere, and steadied her eyes on the children working in front of her.
"I have family that need to be tended for the holidays. There is so much to do, I hardly think I'll have time to finish it all," Sanura said.
Despite herself, Harry turned and gave her an incredulous look. "You? Not finish? I think you have it under control like everything else. I've never seen a cleaner office."
Sanura laughed, the sound like a hot balm over Harry’s exposed nerves. "My life outside this shelter is much different than inside. Everywhere I go, I find more work to be done, and the holidays are no exception."
She let the fingers of one hand crawl down Harry's back and land on her belt. Harry shuddered, unnerved, and stood motionless while Sanura fiddled with her belt loop.
"I hope I will see you over the holiday break, though. The shelter will, of course, be throwing its annual Christmas party for all the youth in the neighborhood, but I won't be in attendance."
"Where will you be?" Harry managed to squeak out, feeling like a teenager again with a mixture of wonder and fury. She had no idea why this woman unhinged her so badly.
Sanura let her hand drop, and with it, her voice. "I’ll be at home. You should give me a call if you’re up for a nightcap after the party.” She reached into Harry’s pocket and pulled out her phone in one motion. “Password?”
Harry took the phone, tapped in her PIN, and handed it back over. Sanura entered her name and phone number, saved it to her contacts, then slid the phone back into Harry’s pocket with a careful pat.
“If you need a little holiday cheer, I’m only a phone call away.”
She straightened, and Harry realized she had been leaning precariously close to Sanura. She straightened up, nodded with more emotion than she wanted to show, and took a step away from Sanura. "Have a happy holiday, then. I need to get to work helping these guys, I guess," she said, gesturing at the kids working.
"The fundraiser will be halfway between Christmas and New Year's Eve,” Sanura told her. “David has found that donors are more generous after the holiday is over and they are faced with the last days to give charity for the next year's taxes."
Harry tried not to make eye contact with the counselor. "Then we need to churn out as much as we can for them to buy," she said with a nod of her head. She walked away quickly, not waiting for Sanura's response, to find one of her friends amongst the kids and get away from the strange, unsettling presence.
