Cheryl Wolverton - Home To You

Margaret nodded. “And rather rudely. She’s had a nip.” Margaret motioned with her hand, as if tipping a bottle up, and then dropped it into her other hand, clasping them, worrying the white hankie that was in her other hand. “Bless your mother’s heart. If she saw that she’d turn white with shock.”

“Not sister and me though,” Mary added. “I do say, it is shocking, but then, we grew up in poverty and saw worse back then, though you didn’t flaunt it.”

“Well, you did if you were one of them,” Margaret lifted an eyebrow to match her superior tone.

“Margaret,” Mary admonished.

Dakota raised a hand. “Um, excuse me.”

Both women turned from each other to look at him expectantly. Before he could say a word, however, Margaret launched back into her speech. “We thought about calling the police but then, you are a pastor and are supposed to have mercy and we decided you’d probably seek out a homeless shelter—”

“Or something,” Mary added, not to be left out.

“I’m not sure…that is…” Dakota began trying to decide what to address first in all they had just said. These women had a way of turning his dark brown hair a bit grayer with every meeting. He was certain those first few gray hairs he’d found the other day were attributable to conversations like this.

“Have we met?” Margaret interrupted, staring oddly at Chase. “You look familiar.”

Chase cleared his throat. “I’m Chase Sandoval, ma’am.”

“Oh, yes!” Mary nodded suddenly. “You were that boy that liked to ride his bike through our yard.”

Chase actually blushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh, yeah, I’d, um…forgotten.” He cast a look at Dakota, hoping for help.

Dakota was still trying to figure out why he’d want to contact a homeless shelter.

“We certainly didn’t forget,” Margaret told him. “I always worried you were going to grow up to be a hoodlum. Looks like you turned out good—unless you’re here for counseling from Pastor Cody.”

“Pastor—”

“Cody…” Dakota acknowledged. “They’re the only ones who still call me that name.” He smiled patiently. “But he’s not. Here for counseling, that is. Which brings us around full court. Can you tell me, ladies, why I might want to call a homeless shelter?”

The sound of his swing creaking brought his head around to his porch—and his jaw dropped.

A woman, no more than five and a half feet tall, stood up. It wasn’t just a woman though, it was…he glanced at her outfit and saw why Margaret and Mary had worried about who was on his porch.

Moving past the two women, he headed toward the steps and slowly climbed to the porch. Father, guide me, he prayed silently, wondering how this woman had found his address.

Her black skirt hung at an odd angle and stopped just above her knees—it might have once been a possible accessory to a business suit. However, one boot was missing a heel, and her sweater hung off one shoulder, nearly exposing areas that Dakota had no business seeing. Her hair was ratted, big enough a bird’s nest could hide in it, and the smeared and caked-on makeup on her face easily added a pound to her weight—her very light weight. Her high cheekbones were gaunt, and her bleary eyes stared out at him from under mascara-smeared lids.

He didn’t miss the bottle of booze in her hand. Nor could he miss the smell. “Hello, I’m Dakota Ryder. Can I help you?”

Compassion filled him at the empty look in her eyes. Compassion and concern as she teetered on her feet. Taking a step forward, she waved the bottle. “How ya doing, Cody? We said we’d be best friends forever.” She giggled and took another swig of the bottle before tossing it over the porch rail and into the flower bed. “I’m here to be your sister.” With that, she threw out her arms, promptly lost her balance and fell headlong into the stunned arms of Dakota Ryder.

“Whoa, Dakota!”

Chase came rushing up the stairs, dropping the box he’d been carrying, intending to help his friend.

Dakota lay, stunned, beneath an unconscious body that smelled like the sewers of Fort Worth, boxes scattered about him. Shifting, he managed to get to his knees and then lifted the woman into his arms. With Chase’s help, he stood. Then, fumbling in his pocket, he managed to find and toss his keys to Chase. “Will you get the door?”

“Sure thing.”

“Can we help?”

Margaret and Mary were both standing at the foot of the stairs.

Not sure what to say, he hesitated before finally nodding. “She’s gonna need some hot coffee and soup, if you wouldn’t mind.” The two women were eccentric but loved to help, and he knew they’d appreciate having something to do. Especially when they’d be able to tell the entire town, for months to come, how they’d gotten to assist the pastor in taking care of her.

Chase pulled the screen door open and then shoved the large oak door inward.

Dakota strode in, carefully carrying his bundle into his childhood home. His feet echoed hollowly on the old wooden floor as he crossed the foyer before stepping onto the rug near the sofa. Shoving two of the decorative pillows out of the way, he deposited his load on the brocade couch.

She was definitely out. Leaning forward to examine her, he held his breath. The fumes alone were enough to make him drunk. Dear God, who is she and why is she here? he prayed silently. Checking her pulse, he found it strong and steady. At least that was a good thing.

“I’ll get the boxes,” Chase murmured and left the house.

Dakota made a call to a friend who was a doctor, asking him to come by, and then he went to his closet to get a blanket. Actually, the less Mary and Margaret saw of the woman, the better. The less any of them saw, the better, he thought.

Bending down, he patted the woman’s cheek.

The screen door squeaked as Chase came back inside. “Your box is a bit banged up but it looks okay. Hope you don’t have anything breakable in it or the other one.”

Dakota blinked. His eyes watered at the smell the woman exuded. Going to a window, he shoved first one and then another open. “No. They were just papers and other things I had to go over. It’s getting close to the end of the year and we’re thinking of changing a lot of the church curriculum. We are also going over the mission budget and I wanted to review everything personally.” He shook his head at the smell as it filled his nostrils.

Chase sidled over toward the window. “No one can say life as a pastor isn’t interesting. Tell me, do you know her?”

Dakota started to shake his head then paused. “She said she was here to be my sister,” he murmured.

“That’s not sister’s garb she’s wearing,” Chase mocked.

Dakota shot him a look. “The words rang a bell. I just can’t place them.”

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself before moving back to her side. “It’s possible someone sent her to me for help. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, though I think she managed to shock my neighbors, which is a first.”

“They remembered my bike,” Chase muttered.

Dakota finally grinned. “They don’t forget much.”

“You don’t say? That was over twenty years ago.”

Dakota nodded. “You should try living next door to them. Anytime I think of getting a big head over something, they remind me of things that promptly knock it back down. They’re also on the lookout for a woman for me.”

Chase shook his head, grinning.

“Yeah, and they used to question each girl I brought home for Mom to meet. Only after Dad died, that is.”

Dakota’s dad had died in a granary explosion ten years earlier, leaving his mom and her children dependent on each other. Dakota had done his best by working odd jobs to help take care of bills, hating to see his mom working in a nursing home cafeteria for a living. “The sisters were also a blessing during that time after Dad died,” he added, remembering. “Anyway, it’s been an adventure with them as neighbors.”

Silence fell.

Chase shifted on his feet, slipping both hands into his front pockets. His wavy dark hair hung forward over one eyebrow as he bounced on his heels. “So, have you figured out who she is yet?”

Dakota looked back at her. Very light skin and blond hair, whether it was real or not he wasn’t sure. The woman had a nice figure, not overblown but just right except she was a bit underweight. He would bet she’d clean up pretty and would probably be a knockout. Right now though, with her makeup smeared, black eyeliner making her look as if she had twin black eyes, he doubted her own mother could identify her. “Nope. I don’t know who she is. But it’s obvious she knows me.” The smell was actually subsiding, or maybe he was just getting used to it, but he realized it wasn’t bothering him as much now as it had a moment ago.

A knock on the door interrupted them. Mary and Margaret each carried a pot in their hands.

“That was certainly fast,” Chase murmured.

Dakota crossed to the door. “Come in, ladies.”

“Oh, we can’t stay,” Mary’s blue hair was bobbing as she came inside. “But here’s the coffee.”

“And here’s some soup left over from what we had yesterday. We had thought to bring it over to you today if you wanted it. So, it ended up here anyway.” Margaret gave him a warm smile.

Dakota took the time to return her smile and take the coffeepot from Mary. He crossed the wooden floor past the sofa into the dining room. Grabbing a hot pad from the side table, he placed it on the large round wooden table and then set down his load.

He turned and saw Margaret had followed him, so he did the same with the soup bowl.

“No hurry in getting these dishes back. You just take care of that woman on your sofa.”

Dakota glanced behind him at the door to the kitchen and thought about getting cups and bowls but decided that could wait. “Thank you, ma’am,” he murmured.

“She looks so bad.”

Dakota turned to see Mary standing near Chase, wringing her hands, staring at the woman on the sofa.

“When she wakes up you should make sure she bathes. But not here. That wouldn’t be proper. You’ll have to find somewhere else for her to clean up.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Dakota reassured Mary.

“You don’t want your mama’s reputation ruined, or yours, Pastor. Think about that,” Margaret informed him.

He nodded. “I will.”

Margaret reached out and patted his arm. “We should go, Mary, so the pastor can get about his work of converting this woman.”

Dakota saw Chase cover a smile with his hand. “Thank you both.” Dakota strode back through the living room to the screen door. “I’m sure the woman will appreciate the food—once she’s awake. You’ve saved me a heavy chore of having to cook.”

Both ladies beamed at the compliment. Mary actually giggled like a schoolgirl. “If you need anything else,” Mary called as they toddled out onto the wooden porch.

“I’ll be sure to call,” he affirmed.

Once they were safely down the stairs, Dakota let the screen door close.

Chase chuckled.

“They’re concerned,” Dakota informed him.

“I noticed.” Glancing around, he noted, “The place sure hasn’t changed much since we were kids.”

“You don’t think so?”

Dakota glanced around too, trying to see it through the eyes of his childhood. The old braided rug he’d grown up with continued to grace the middle of the room with the old-fashioned sofa and coffee table sitting on one edge. The brocaded chairs and love seat each had their own braided rugs. The fireplace still had family pictures on it. Both of the tall front windows had lace curtains just like when he was a child, but he had added miniblinds to them about five years ago.