He shrugs. “I’m versatile. Protean, if you will.”
I can’t help laughing. He smiles in return.
“See? You missed me, didn’t you?”
“I’ll answer that in exchange for a generous donation to the Southern Poverty Law Center.” I give him a quick grin and head over to a woman who is pushing a shopping cart with her possessions inside and isn’t wearing any shoes.
I introduce myself and ask her if I can help with anything. She asks me if I have any money, and I tell her I don’t, but I show her what I have in my backpack.
“Pretzels. I love pretzels. And a pair of those gloves, if I can pick two things.”
“Absolutely.” I pass her the pretzels, the gloves and a card for Safe Haven. “This is the address and number of our organization. Call or come in if you have needs we can help with.”
She thanks me and I join the group again, watching as the college kids hand out supplies on the other side of the sidewalk.
“You’re good at this job,” Olivier says.
The compliment touches me, because my work means a lot to me.
“Thanks,” I say.
We’re just entering a block where a lot of homeless people congregate before sundown. We fan out to pass out supplies and talk to people. A lot of the time, being asked how they are and having someone listen means more to people than the supplies we bring them.
By the time we make it out of the neighborhood, it’s dark and my bag is light on supplies. Everyone else’s is, too, but we have enough to go to the area beneath a bridge where tents and makeshift camps are being set up for the night.
If there are photographers trailing us, none of us have seen them. We seem to be getting a much-needed break tonight.
I send all the volunteers but Olivier to pass out supplies to a group of people congregated around a fire for warmth.
“We’re going to check out this car over here,” I tell Olivier.
“It looks abandoned.”
“It might be. But people live in their cars sometimes, so we check them.”
He nods.
As we get close to the car, I see that there are people in it.
“Keep your eyes out for weapons,” I tell Olivier in a low tone.
“This is fucking nuts, Daph,” he mutters. “Let me approach them first.”
“We’ll go together.”
The car is an old, rusting sedan with a flat rear tire. Olivier and I walk up to the driver’s side window together, and the woman sitting there sees us and opens the car door.
“Can’t roll it down because I’m out of gas,” she says. “I hope you’re not here to tell me to move it because I can’t. I can’t afford a new tire or even one gallon of gas.”
In the backseat, I see the heads of three children. Everyone in the car is bundled up in coats and hats.
“It’s nothing like that. We’re here to see if you need help,” I say.
The woman looks at me for about two seconds before bursting into tears.
“We do,” she says. “We’ve been out of food for three days and I have to walk a mile to get to a drinking fountain where I can fill up our water bottles. It’s just me and my kids. We got evicted from our apartment last month and we’ve been living in the car ever since.”
“You guys are hungry?” I ask her.
“Yeah. And cold. If you have some blankets…and cough medicine? My youngest has a real bad cough and I’m worried about him.”
Olivier and I exchange a glance. I don’t think pretzels and socks are going to change anything for this family.
“Have you tried to get into a shelter?” I ask her.
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Okay, I can help with that.”
She sighs deeply. “Thank you. Oh, I don’t even know what to say. Thank you so much. I’ve been praying for God to send someone to help us, and He did. I’ve never been so scared, but it’s not me I’m scared for, it’s my babies.”
Olivier is looking through the rear driver’s side window at the kids, who are smiling and waving at him. I take out my phone.
“I’m going to call and find you guys some open beds at a shelter. Most of them are full by now, but there are churches who will be willing to help if we can’t find you a place.”
She bursts into tears again just as Olivier says, “No, Daph. Don’t do that.”
“Why not?” I give him a puzzled look.
He has his own phone in his hand now, and he says, “We’re taking them to get something to eat, and then to a hotel.”
“We are?”
The kids are squealing with excitement from the backseat of the car.
“Yeah, we are,” Olivier says. “We’re not waiting for anyone. We’re taking care of them now, and finding a doctor for the kid.”
The woman is sobbing now, and she lunges toward Olivier to hug him.
“God is good,” she says tearfully. “He is so, so good. Thank you.”
Olivier hugs her back, meeting my gaze and smiling. I feel a huge crack inside of me. It’s not my heart that’s breaking, thoughit’s my resolve not to fall in love with this man.
Chapter Thirteen
Olivier
Daphne is beside me on the Palmer House elevator, so close I can feel the heat of her even though we aren’t touching.
“This was…one of the best nights of my life,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.
She reaches over and takes my hand, and I squeeze hers gently.
“Me too,” I tell her. “I’ve never enjoyed spending money on anything as much as I did tonight.”
The woman we found in the car tonight is named Jada, and I had her and her children picked up and taken to the Palmer House, where I instructed the manager to treat them like royalty. While they cleaned up and had room service delivered, Daphne and I went shopping for clothes and shoes for all of them. We got toys and books, too, and we were already back at the hotel visiting with Jada and the kids when it was all delivered.
Seeing them cry with happiness over having new shoes was humbling. I asked Hassan to send a doctor to see the youngest boy, Michael, who was feeling better already when Daphne and I left because of the Tylenol the doctor gave him.
As the hotel elevator doors open and Daphne and I step out, a concierge approaches us.
“Mr. Durand, is there anything else we can do to make your guests more comfortable?”
“I think they’re good for now, but please look in on them in the morning,” I say.
A man in a suit approaches us, smiling from ear to ear.
“Mr. Durand, I’m Matthew Curtis, the manager here. Is there anything I can do for you or your guests?” he asks. “Perhaps a room for you tonight, or a drink?”
I look at Daphne. “Anything you want?”
“No, thanks.”
Several people stopped close by are taking pictures with their camera phones. Daphne releases my hand, and my good mood slips away. She doesn’t make anything easy when it comes to us.
“We’re good,” I tell Matthew. “But please take good care of our guests. They’ll be here for several nights.”
“Yes, sir. Consider it done. May we have our driver take you home?”