Saturday Morning by Lauraine Snelling Page A

suffereda great deal. If only there was something that would give him relief, something she could do to help him.
    Hope was forever if onlying. If only she could do more to help the women who came to the shelter. If only she had more time to spend with the children. If only she could find more resources to support the shelter. Hope sighed as she continued around the building to enter the private quarters by the side door. If only God had given them children of their own.
    “Buenos dias , Miss Hope.” Celia, Hopes kitchen and front-desk assistant, greeted her. Celia was kneeling in front of the south-facing cold frame, where she was starting cabbages for the fall planting. Once a hard-core delinquent, the woman now took all her anger out on the compost pile.
    “Good morning to you too. You’re out early.” Hope had discovered that for many—even the most desperate—gardening was an outlet that promoted healing.
    “Bad dreams,” Celia replied as she tenderly transplanted a seedling from the tray she had started under lights in the pantry. “Adolph, get away.” Adolph loved Celia and licked her every chance he got. Celia wiped a sloppy kiss from her cheek, leaving bits of soil on her olive skin. “Ugh. I hate it when he does that.”
    Hope tugged on Adolphs leash. “You got enough there to plant an acre.”
    “I know. Who would’ve thought so many would make it this far? I’ll take out every other one later and throw the greens into the soup pot.”
    Celia’s gap-toothed smile reminded Hope that she needed to hassle Social Services to get dental help for several of her girls, but primarily for Celia.
    “See you later.” Hope bent to give the woman a pat on the shoulder. “Come on, Adolph.”
    “Oh, wait a minute,” Celia called. “That sleaze-ball lawyer called.” She rocked back on her heels and swept away a neon-blue lock of hair with the back of her hand.
    Hope stopped with a groan. “Again?”
    “Told ’im you call back when you come home from South America.” Her twittering laugh followed Hope inside.
    Hope leaned over to remove Adolphs leash. So what did the creepy lawyer want now? she wondered. She felt the urge to call him one of the names she’d used so freely before she became a warrior for her Lord, instead of a profitable lay for her warlord. She overrode the temptation, knowing full well that once she used that language again, she’d be using it on a regular basis.
    The smell of fresh coffee told her Roger was up. She poured herself a cup and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the office-turned-exercise-room. “Hey, mon, thanks for the java.” She lifted the cup in salute.
    “Uhh.” He carefully settled the bar onto its rack with a click. He lay there, broad chest sprinkled with gray swirls rising and falling while he caught his breath. “How was your walk?”
    “Edie, mon. Be warmer in Jamaica.” She often reverted to her native brogue just for the fun of it, but these last few days, the desire to revisit the islands of her birth had been nagging at her. Must be the travel article she’d read in Sunday’s newspaper.
    Roger laughed and sat up. “There’s a new girl coming.” He wiped his face with a towel, then draped it round his neck. “Ten o’clock. Some of the guys at the precinct thought we might be able to do something for her.”
    “Do you know anything about her?” Hope asked, her brogue giving way to her business voice.
    He shook his head. “Not much. She’s a prostitute who got caught up in last night’s sweep.”
    Hope held her coffee close to her chest and savored the warmth. She dealt with girls and women coming to the shelter from all walks of life, but the prostitutes were the ones she had the most compassion for and related to the best. “How old?” Hope leaned against the doorframe.
    “Sweet sixteen.”
    A sixteen-year-old prostitute had stopped being sweet a long time ago. “I’d better hurry up and take my shower.”
    With Adolph