Stranger In The Night. Catherine Palmer
myself get tangled in a pretty missionary’s curls.”
“Now there’s an assignment worthy of the Sergeant Duff I met on a dusty base in Iraq.”
“I’d rather hunt terrorists.”
As Sam laughed, Joshua decided it was time to cut the chitchat. He needed to find the little minister and his wife. Sam beat him to the punch.
“Pastor Stephen is in one of the classrooms. Said he wanted to start teaching Bible stories to the children. He’s that way.”
Joshua set off in the direction Sam had indicated. He definitely did not want to marry Liz Wallace—or any other woman. Not soon, anyway. He’d have to set the Rev. Stephen Rudi straight on that point. As well as a few others.
Chapter Four
L iz pulled her car to a stop in front of Haven and gathered up the stack of documents in the passenger seat. A shiver prickled down her spine as she focused on the young man slouched against the wall at the building’s entrance. Compact, taut with gleaming dark muscles, he wore a white T-shirt, baggy jeans and an expression that dared anyone to mess with him.
The task could have been saved for another time, Liz realized, and maybe she should have waited. The streets were dangerous at this hour. Her headache had worsened throughout the day. With her patience stretched to the limit, all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep.
Please, Lord, let me sleep!
Why did He choose to answer this prayer so rarely? Liz shook her head as she pushed open the car door. Insomnia had become her demon, haunting her days and lying in wait to sabotage her nights. She ached for sleep yet dreaded the moment she would switch off her lamp each night. Her bed had become her worst enemy.
“Good evening.” The young man’s polite greeting surprised Liz so much she stopped walking. He straightened and stepped toward her. “Welcome to Haven, ma’am. I’m Raydell Watson, on door duty here. You’ll want to give me those papers, your purse and anything that might set off our metal detector.”
Belatedly, Liz noted the electronic apparatus just inside the door. Beyond it she spotted a dog. A large German shepherd, ears perked forward, tail raised.
“That’s Duke,” Raydell told her. “He’s our drug canine. He won’t do nothing to you—unless you’re carrying.”
“No. Of course not.” Liz handed over the sheaf of paperwork. “You know, maybe you could just deliver these for me. They go to a man named Joshua Duff. I really don’t need to talk to him.”
“You’ll want to go on in. We like for every visitor to take a look at our place.” Raydell smiled, and now Liz noted the single gold tooth. “We’re real proud of Haven. Just sign our register on my clipboard here.” He glanced at her signature. “Thanks, Ms. Wallace. Now hand over your purse, and I’ll let you through the door.”
With some reluctance, Liz gave the young man her bag. “I work for Refugee Hope.” She felt an odd need to explain. “Sergeant Duff is helping a Pagandan family with the resettlement process.”
“Right through this door,” Raydell said. He bellowed over her, “Visitor, Shauntay!”
As Liz stepped through the metal detector, she saw a young woman motion to the German shepherd. Wearing a white T-shirt and tight-fitting tan slacks, Shauntay gave Raydell a knowing smile as she took the registry. Then she picked up the dog’s leash and led him toward Liz.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Wallace. Duke don’t bite unless we give the command.” She walked the dog around Liz as she spoke. Satisfied, she handed back the purse. “You lookin’ for Uncle Sam or T-Rex?”
Liz frowned. Who were Uncle Sam and T-Rex?
“Actually,” she said, “I need to talk to Joshua Duff. I understand he’s staying at Haven.”
“That big dude? Over there shootin’ hoops.” Shauntay gestured with her chin. “He come in yesterday. Friend of Uncle Sam. They was soldiers together over in Iraq. He movin’ in here.”
“To Haven? No, I’m sure he plans to go home to Texas soon. He told me so this morning.”
“Texas? What he gonna do there?”
“Oil, I think.” Liz took a moment to study the young woman at her side. Tall and slender with a long graceful neck, Shauntay had the gentle beauty of a gazelle. Her almond eyes were dark brown and framed with long lashes. She could be a model on a magazine cover.
“Oil like what you fry chicken with? Or oil like you put in a car engine? Or hair oil?”
“The kind they make into gasoline. I believe Sergeant Duff’s family is in the oil drilling business.” Liz smiled. “What about you, Shauntay? What do you plan to do with your life?”
“Me?” She touched her chest as if the question surprised her. “I always wanted to have a hair place and do braids and weaves and twists and locs, you know? But I got two babies already, and I ain’t even finished school yet. T-Rex say I could have a hair place if I want to. If I try hard and get my GED and all that.”
“T-Rex?”
“Terell. The man. Him—over there with all the kids crawling on him.” Shauntay laughed. “T-Rex. He funny, you know? We like him. He make us believe, because we see how he done his life—comin’ up out of the hood and into the NBA, gettin’ rich, then losin’ everything to bein’ a pipe head. And then he come here to help us do better. Him and Uncle Sam. I think that big guy gonna stick around, too. He done fightin’ in Iraq, and he good friends with Uncle Sam. You seen his tats? Dog. ”
“Tats?”
Shauntay pointed out the tattoos that marked her arms and knuckles. “I used to be a 51 MOB queen, you know. A Hood Rat. They had me slangin’ keys and runnin’ from the 5-0 and everything else. The homeboys used to jump on us queens. They said we couldn’t get out once we was in. They’d kill us. But I got out and got both my babies out, too. Now I spend my time at Haven. I worked my way up through KP and laundry all the way to Duke duty. One of these days, I really might get my GED and start me a hair place.”
Liz tried to assimilate the information. Shauntay used a slang she didn’t know and spoke English with an accent almost as unfamiliar as that of the refugees who passed through her cubicle every day. Though she had merely stepped from a St. Louis street into a St. Louis building, Liz felt much as she had the first day she got off an airplane in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Haven was another country. Another world.
“I’m glad you spend your time here,” Liz told Shauntay. “You’re a beautiful young lady. I hope you do get your degree and start your own business. I’d be your first customer.”
“You?” At this, Shauntay laughed so hard that Liz began to wish she hadn’t said anything. Even Duke appeared unnerved as he paced back and forth on his leash. Shauntay shook her head. “Lady, you white! ”
“So? I have hair, don’t I?”
“You got hair, but…” The young woman took a step closer. “Lemme see you.”
Liz tilted her head to one side. Shauntay gently dipped her fingertips into the mass of loose brown curls. For a moment, she murmured unintelligible comments, as if assessing something completely foreign. Then she made a sound like a cat purring.
“Yo, Ms. Wallace, I bet I could do you a goddess braid.” The pronouncement was definitive. “I got two or three ideas in mind already.”
Liz felt strangely happy. She took Shauntay’s hand. “Deal. But not tonight. I have to give these papers to the sergeant over there and head home. I’m exhausted.”
“When you gonna come back?”
“Come back…” The implications of her offer sank in. “Later. Maybe this weekend.”