“Close, but no.” He crossed his arms and rested them on his pulled-up knees. “I research the show before watching to find out the ending. If there’s no closure, I won’t watch it.”
Her jaw dropped. “Me too. The worst is that show where they search for people who have disappeared. I refuse to watch it.”
“I thought I was the only picky true crime aficionado.”
The wording struck her funny bone and she giggled. “No, you’re not.”
“What did you think of the show?”
She pursed her lips, hesitant to criticize. “If I didn’t know the background, I’d have enjoyed it more, but there were too many inconsistencies.”
“That’s what I thought.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I kept wondering if I had my stories confused. Didn’t the mom only escape the dad once before a restraining order was issued?”
“Yes.” She huffed and took a deep breath before answering. “That part made me angry. Every day I work with victims of domestic violence. A single incident is more than enough. There’s no need to add extra for dramatic effect.”
“How do you do it?”
Lost in thought, she’d inadvertently tuned out of the conversation. “Do what?”
“Work with domestic violence survivors and not lose your faith in humanity.” His fists clenched into tight balls. “I don’t think I could without going to jail myself.”
“In my job, I often see the effects of the worst of humanity, but I also see the best. Each day, I witness women conquer the odds who’ve lost everything, who’ve been beaten down, trampled on, and abused in unfathomable ways. They fight back with education, strength, and faith. They reclaim their lives. They don’t just survive, they thrive.” She raised her gaze to the ceiling, sent a brief prayer to God, thanking him for the opportunity to bring awareness to the shelter’s plight. When she lowered her eyes, she caught Aaron watching her intently, and she finished. “Every single day I see God at work—that’s the short and long answer of how I do it.”
“You’re an amazing woman.”
She shook her head. “I’ve lived a privileged life with little to overcome. These ladies I see are the amazing ones. They inspire me with their fortitude.”
“That doesn’t lessen your work.” He reached over and enclosed her hand, squeezed it, before leaving the floor. “I’m glad those ladies have you in their corner.”
“Just doing my job.” The praise made her squirm, as it did whenever a person complimented her for the work she’d done. Directing Hope House was a calling—to not give it her all would be denying the blessing God gave her in the position.
“Sadly, there are many people out there taking advantage of the less fortunate under the guise of ‘just doing their job.’ The world needs more people like you.”
“You, too.” Her eyes locked with his. “Few people would step in and help a stranger like you’ve done for me with nothing in return.”
“We’re not strangers anymore.”
His simple declaration brought a lazy smile to her mouth until she yawned. Reluctant for the night to end, she tried to fight it to no avail. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Where are the goodies to change Roxie’s bandage? I’ll go ahead and get that done for you.”
A refusal thrust off her tongue, but her closed lips blocked it. She pointed to a basket by the chaise. “In there.”
He went to the kitchen to wash his hands before beginning, and she went to the pantry for a plastic grocery bag to put the old bandages in.
They sat beside a sleepy Roxie who came to life when Aaron lifted her paw to unwind the gauze. She yelped and jerked her paw away.
Rachel fought the instinct to put a stop to it, but that would only provide temporary relief for Roxie and cause more problems. As uncomfortable as it might be, the bandage needed to be changed.
Soothing whispers reached her ears. Aaron spoke to Roxie in soft, gentle tones. The instant bond between them awed Rachel. Making friends came easy to Roxie, but she was notorious for her stubborn streak. That she now allowed Aaron to freely touch her hurting leg after only a short protest spoke volumes.
When he came to the final unroll, Rachel turned away. As much as she wanted to be that independent woman who could conquer the world on her own, she couldn’t bring herself to see the wound. Her stomach churned every time she thought about it.
Thank you, Lord, for sending Aaron to help.
Still looking away, she remembered Dr. Scott’s instructions. “Make sure it’s not wrapped to too tight. It could cause serious complications.”
“Dr. Scott drilled that into me with Chance.”
