The only decent thing Collum Hodges ever did for his nephew was sign the enlistment papers allowing him to join the navy at seventeen. He'd never forget his uncle's parting words.
"Maybe they'll ship your worthless butt off to Nam and let those gooks use you for target practice. God knows, you're no good for anything else."
Nate had never fully understood his uncle or the man's unrelenting hatred. Collum Hodges had been a bigoted, embittered man, and an ambitious one. His sister's illegitimate child had been a social embarrassment to him, and the fact that the boy quite obviously had Hispanic blood in him outraged Collum, whose conservative Anglo friends were less than accepting of Grace's mix-breed child.
Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Nate pulled his Jeep into the only empty parking space available, a half block down from Tomorrow House. He got out, walked around the car, opened the door and lifted his passenger up and into his arms.
Cyn stood in the open doorway, watching Nate walk up the sidewalk. He carried a small, unmoving child. When he'd told her that the little girl needed to see a doctor, Cyn had placed a call to her friend, Callie Reynolds, who did a great deal of volunteer work for the shelter. Callie, a successful St. Augustine pediatrician, promised to drive up on her lunch break.
Nate took the steps up to Tomorrow House's entrance two at a time. "Have you gotten in touch with a doctor?" he asked.
"One will be here around twelve-thirty." Cyn winced when she noticed the purple bruises on the child's face. Even though she'd seen this sort of thing more times than she cared to remember, she hadn't hardened herself to the reality that there were people in this world capable of brutalizing children. "Bring her on inside. Mimi has fixed her something to eat.''
Nate followed Cyn down the hallway and into the kitchen. A big redheaded woman, busy stirring some delicious-smelling concoction in an enormous kettle atop an old stove, turned and smiled at him. He nodded an acknowledgment, then set the little girl down at the table.
The child stared at the bowl of cereal and the glasses of milk and orange juice, then looked up at Cyn with questioning eyes. "He said you wouldn't make me go back. You won't, will you?"
Cyn clutched the top of the chair opposite the one in which the child sat. "No one is going to make you do anything. All we want to do here at Tomorrow House is help you. Would you tell me your name?"
The little girl shook her head. "Can I still have the food, even if I don't tell you my name?"
With tears trapped in her throat, Cyn couldn't respond immediately. She glanced over at Mimi.
"You eat up, honey child," Mimi said. "And if you're still hungry, it won't be long until lunch. I'm working on some good old chicken stew."
The child picked up her spoon, dug into the cereal and ate as if she were starving. After finishing the last bite, she gulped down the orange juice.
"Mimi, would you let our young visitor keep you company here in the kitchen while I give Nate a tour of Tomorrow House?" Cyn asked.
"You ain't calling the police, are you?" The little girl jumped up, her eyes wide with fear.
"No," Nate told her. "Stay here and help Miss Mimi with lunch and I'll come say goodbye before I leave."
"I'll see if Bobby wants to come give me a hand, too," Mimi said. "That boy's good at helping."
"Who's Bobby?" the little girl asked.
Cyn and Nate left the kitchen. He followed her into the hallway. Children of various ages, sexes and races moved freely around the building, some passing Cyn and Nate in the hall, others busy watching television, playing Nintendo and shooting pool, as well as sweeping, mopping and dusting.
"You said on the phone that you found her in the old mission." Cyn nodded to several smiling youngsters.
"The storage room," Nate said. "And yeah, she's probably the one who left the cola can and candy bar that we found yesterday."
"How about the cigarette butt?"
"Possibly. But I doubt it." He knew the chances were good that the cigarette butt had been left by one of Ryker's friends, but there was no point in trying to explain that to Cyn. "What can you do for the kid? She doesn't look a day over eight or nine." Nate glanced around at the boy who stood in an open doorway across the hall. Recognizing him, Nate nodded. Bobby slipped back into the game room, silently disappearing.
"He came back last night." Cyn nodded toward where the boy had been standing. "More than likely, he's afraid of you after seeing your macho demonstration at the Brazen Hussy." She reached out, placing her hand on Nate's arm. "Why don't we go into my office and I'll tell you what our options are as far as your little waif is concerned."
The moment she touched him, he wanted to drag her out of this place and back to the beach. He wanted to be alone with her, to explore where that one simple touch could lead.
He followed her the few yards to her office, but just as they started in, a short, stocky man, wearing a suit and tie, approached them.
"Hello, Cyn. I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you on your return this morning, but I had a breakfast appointment with the Reverend Lockwood," Bruce Tomlinson said, placing his hand on Cyn's shoulder.
The moment the other man touched her, Nate wanted to knock his pale, immaculately clean hand off her. He wanted to issue a warning. But he didn't. Instead, he glared at the man.
"Bruce, I'd like you to meet Nate Hodges. He found a badly beaten little girl this morning and brought her to us." Cyn squeezed Nate's arm, smiling at him.
"Unfortunate. Unfortunate." Bruce made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth and shook his head.
"Nate, this is Tomorrow House's director, Reverend Bruce Tomlinson." Cyn wasn't surprised at the tension she felt as she introduced the two men. It was only natural that two such opposite extremes of the male species would be wary of each other. The gentle, weak, condescending Bruce and the fierce, strong, proud Nate.
Bruce, ever the gentleman, held out his hand. Nate merely nodded, completely ignoring the other man's cordial gesture. "Mr. Hodges, I wonder if you'd mind giving me a few minutes alone with Mrs. Porter. I have an urgent business matter to discuss with her."
Beneath her hand, she felt Nate's arm tense. She couldn't take a chance on what response he might make. "Bruce, if you want to ask me if I've done anything about the ceiling, then I can tell you that a roofer will be here tomorrow." Cyn pointed toward the hole in the ceiling near the front entrance.
Nate's gaze wandered over the gaping hollow. "What happened?"
"An old roof, rotting wood and too much rain this past winter," Cyn said. "We've needed a new roof for years, but just couldn't afford one."
"Then how are we going to pay a roofer now?" Bruce asked. "We don't even have enough money to pay this month's bills. Reverend Lockwood is very concerned. He says that it's a real possibility that the church will have to close us down."
"They've been saying that for the last six months," Cyn reminded him. "Look, Bruce, I'll find a way to cover the cost of roof repair, even if I have to pay for it myself."
"Oh, my dear girl, we couldn't allow it. You do too much already. Working here without a salary, donating everything for the game room—"
"Hush, Bruce! Go...go do some paperwork, and quit worrying so much. Everything will work out. Remember, the Lord helps those who help themselves. And I have every intention of finding a way to help us."