Free Behind the Altar: Behind the Love Trilogy by P.C. Zick Page B

Leah and Susie. He had given Leah another key. She
wouldn’t be here on a Saturday night, he thought as he pushed the doors open.
Leah stood in the center of the room holding a sleeping bag under one arm. In
the other, she held a cloth grocery bag.
    “What are you doing
here?” he asked.
    “I’m sorry; I can
leave,” she said. “I thought since you gave me a key, I could come here. I
decided to spend the night to think about things and make plans.”
    Dean began to laugh.
He held up his bag and pack of beer. “I had the same idea. The motel room was
getting to me.”
    “I can leave.”
    “No, stay. You can
help me eat this greasy food. Maybe drink a few beers and talk about what can
be done here. I won’t bite.”
    Leah didn’t answer,
but she put down her bag and started to unroll the sleeping bag. When she
finished, she gestured for him to join her.
    “I brought a few
things for dinner, too,” she said. “Maybe we can combine the two. I guarantee
mine’s healthier.”
    Dean smiled and sat
down next to her on one end of the sleeping bag. “I don’t know. Reggie says he
used the best beef around these parts.” He pulled the burger out of the bag and
tried to rip it in half. He handed her a ragged piece.
    They ate in silence until
Dean handed her a beer.
    “I don’t drink,” Leah
said. “But thank you.”
    “Never?”
    “I’ve never drank
ever or done any drugs,” she said. “I’ve stayed away. My mom was a drug addict;
my dad probably was, too. I can’t afford to test it.”
    “I get it,” Dean
said. “I guess I’m jaded. All anyone does in South Beach is drink and do
designer drugs. I didn’t bring anything else to drink.”
    “That’s all right. I
brought water.” She held up a red stainless steel water container and then took
a long sip. “Is that what you do? Drink and do designer drugs?”
    “I stay away from the
drugs, but I do my share of drinking beer. Occupational hazard as a tat
artist.”
    “That’s what you do?
Give folks tattoos?”
    “That’s what I do.
Some folks say I’m pretty good,” Dean said. “But enough about me. It sounds
like you had a pretty rough childhood. How did you end up here?”
    “I actually had a
pretty wonderful childhood until I was around ten, and then it all fell apart,”
she said. “We lived near St. Pete, and I spent lots of time playing in the sand
and surf. And then my mom starting shooting up heroin, and it was a fast slide
after that.”
    “Where was your dad?”
    “Gone by then. Within
a year, we were out on the streets, so we camped with the other homeless. The
community was similar to the river camp. In fact, a few of them followed me
here.”
    “And that’s why you
want to do everything you can to help them.”
    “That’s right,” Leah said.
“I know what it’s like to be in their position. On one hand, they have a sort
of freedom; but on the other, they’re living life as close to the edge as can
be imagined. I don’t want them to ever have to worry about food or shelter.”
    “I think maybe I was
wrong about you,” Dean said as he turned to the woman sitting next to him.
“Maybe you’re the first truly altruistic person I’ve ever met.”
    “I guess you could be
partly right, though. I’ve thought about it, and I do get pleasure from helping
them, so in a way, I am doing it for me.”
    “How about Geraldine
and Jacob? How did that happen?” Dean asked.
    “When I was
seventeen, I got a job at a mall,” Leah said. “Geraldine came into the store
where I worked, and we started talking. She mentioned she had a son, and then
she asked me out for lunch.”
    “That’s it? And then
she moved you into the house?”
    “She said she took a
liking to me right away; said she could see something in me.” Leah shrugged.
“Then she invited me to Victory and to the Sunshine Church to speak about
homelessness and its impact on children. Both Jacob and she liked what I said
to the women’s society, and they asked me to