Free Saturday Morning by Lauraine Snelling Page B

have dinner brought in. In the meantime, I’ll do a little digging and see if I can find out why Blakely Associates wants J House so much.”
    Hope thought about walking back to the shelter, but she caught the bus instead. She greeted the driver, found an empty seat, and nodded to the petite Japanese woman sitting next to her. “Konnetchewa, obasan.” Hope said, using the traditional Japanese greeting.
    “Hai.” The woman sketched a slight bow, then in perfect English said, “Thank you for speaking my language.”
    Hope returned the bow. “You are most welcome.”
    An elderly man, who lived in Hope’s neighborhood and sometimesattended Sunday services at J House, got on the bus at the next stop. “Hey, Hope. Good to see you.” He smiled as he found a seat.
    “And you,” Hope returned, trying to remember his name.
    “You have a good name,” Hopes seatmate said, nodding.
    “I thank my mother for that.” Times like this, Hope was grateful she’d learned greetings in several of the many languages spoken in San Francisco.
    “I get off next.” The little lady stood and gathered her parcels.
    “Sayonara.”
    Hope smiled after the woman, then settled into her thoughts. Thanks, Big Dad, for Peter and for all those You bring our way. She blew out a breath at the fumes seeping in the window. Kiss, what am I to do with her? Lord, please get her to stay long enough for us to help her.
    Knowing her stop was coming up, Hope stood and made her way to the front of the bus. “Thanks, Juan. You’re the best driver in all of San Francisco.”
    “You take care now.” The bus driver waved a good-bye. She stood on the sidewalk and waited for the signal to change. She only had a couple of blocks to walk, but they were uphill, and she wasn’t feeling her best today.
    The common room rang with the laughter of playing children, led by one of the younger women who was well on her way to a second month of clean and sober living and a fifth month of impending motherhood.
    Hope loved the sound of the children’s laughter. Too many of them had little to laugh about before coming with their mothers to the shelter. Several had been living on the streets; others had been on the run from an abusive relative.
    Hope waved at their greetings and headed down the hall for her office. “Have you seen Kiss?” she asked the woman with the cornrows, who was mopping the hall.
    “She the new girl at lunch?”
    “Yes.”
    “She lyin’ on her bed.”
    “Could you please tell her I’d like to talk with her?”
    “Sure ’nough.”
    Hope set her briefcase down behind her desk and checked the list of messages. She had three calls to return, and Roger had left the day’s mail stacked in the middle of the desk calendar.
    She sat down and started going through the mail. Five credit card offers! The days were gone when she could just toss them in the trash. Now she had to shred them to protect herself from identity theft. What was the world coming to?
    She swiveled her chair around toward the window and smiled at the blown-glass hummingbird suspended by a piece of fishing line from the top of the window frame. She leaned forward and tapped it with her finger. Refracted dots—every color of the rainbow—bounced against her walls and made her smile. Roger. Wise, wonderful Roger. He was constantly looking for things to make her smile. What would I do without you? She thought to go find him, but just then the office door was pushed open and Kiss came in.
    “You wanted me?”
    “Yes, please come sit over here so we can talk.” Hope indicated the chair closest to her desk.
    Kiss perched on the edge of the chair. She looked more than ever like a lost waif now, dressed in a denim skirt and scoop-neck T-shirt striped in various shades of red. Without all that makeup, she appeared to be the picture of innocence.
    “Thanks for coming.”
    “Did I have a choice?”
    “Here at J House, you always have a choice,” Hope assured her.
    “Yeah.” Kiss