The woman clawed her hands down her face and screeched like an injured eagle. She didn’t have any fingernails to speak of, so her face was undamaged. Clover backed off a few more steps.
“Leeeeeave!”
“I’m going.” Clover kept her hands out in front of her as she backed up.
The woman scooped down, grabbing a rock and throwing it at Clover. Okay, time to run. Clover picked up speed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t run into anything. When she was out of sight behind a pine tree, the screaming stopped as quickly as if she’d flipped a switch.
Clover sighed. At least the children had the bags and water. She bowed her head to offer a prayer on behalf of the children and their guardian. She couldn’t exactly say the woman was their mother, because she appeared much too old to have children that young, but then, living on the streets could age a person.
“Clover!” Someone grabbed her arm, startling her out of her prayer.
Clover jumped. Damarius jumped too. Her brain registered the little brown-eyed boy, and she bent down to scoop him into a hug. He pushed against her and kicked his feet, but she was too happy to see him healthy to let it bother her.
“You’re bigger.” She laughed as she set him down. He scowled at her.
Serena scrambled out from under the branches of the pine tree. She had needles stuck to her pants and in her hair. Clover knew better than to ask questions. Serena’s sense of safety was in knowing that no one knew where they were hiding. “I’m sorry—he ran out before I could stop him.”
“It’s no trouble. He’s one of my favorites.” Clover mused Damarius’s hair, noting the grainy feeling. This time, he smiled up at her. “You look good, Serena. And Damarius is obviously growing.”
Damarius crouched down, collecting rocks. Serena watched him for a moment before saying, “I feel like a failure.” She tugged at her dirty shirt. “Chad called. He wants to meet me somewhere neutral—just to talk.”
Clover wanted to scream at her to throw her phone away and run from the abusive man. “You’re not a failure. You’re courageous in protecting yourself and your child.”
“Hiding feels more like the cowardly thing.”
Clover shook her head so hard her bun tugged at her hair. “Be strong.” She remembered well the problem being dirty caused with her self-esteem and the way she’d felt at the ball game when she saw herself on the big screen. She glanced around at the few businesses within sight. She pressed the essentials bag into Serena’s arms. “Here. You could take Damarius to the gas station over there and wash your hair in the sink. They have a family bathroom, so you can lock the door and have a few minutes of privacy.”
She hugged the bag to her chest. “They’ll chase us out.”
“Walk in there with your head held high and they won’t even think about it.”
“They won’t?”
“If they knock, tell them your son has a stomachache and you’ll make sure the place is clean before you go.”
She shuffled her feet. “Maybe.”
Clover wanted to march her right across the street and into the gas station. She wanted to secure a place for Serena and her son and make life all better. “Can I …”
“No.” Serena’s response was as fast as it was persuasive.
Clover forcefully swallowed her argument. Offering help was one thing; forcing it upon someone showed a lack of respect. Respect was the least she could give Serena—but it was what Serena wanted the most.
Clover hugged her. “Okay. I’ll see you next time you come into The Pantry.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was full of deep gratitude.
Clover tightened her embrace before letting go. Her phone chirped again, and she said goodbye to Serena and Damarius before taking it out.
What’s your schedule today?
She skipped three steps, happy to see he was thinking about her.I’m going to The Pantry now, and then hotel. Working late.
Me too.
She giggled.Play hard.
Always.
