Stranger In The Night

“No. Of course not.” Liz handed over the sheaf of paperwork. “You know, maybe you could just deliver these for me. They go to a man named Joshua Duff. I really don’t need to talk to him.”

“You’ll want to go on in. We like for every visitor to take a look at our place.” Raydell smiled, and now Liz noted the single gold tooth. “We’re real proud of Haven. Just sign our register on my clipboard here.” He glanced at her signature. “Thanks, Ms. Wallace. Now hand over your purse, and I’ll let you through the door.”

With some reluctance, Liz gave the young man her bag. “I work for Refugee Hope.” She felt an odd need to explain. “Sergeant Duff is helping a Pagandan family with the resettlement process.”

“Right through this door,” Raydell said. He bellowed over her, “Visitor, Shauntay!”

As Liz stepped through the metal detector, she saw a young woman motion to the German shepherd. Wearing a white T-shirt and tight-fitting tan slacks, Shauntay gave Raydell a knowing smile as she took the registry. Then she picked up the dog’s leash and led him toward Liz.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Wallace. Duke don’t bite unless we give the command.” She walked the dog around Liz as she spoke. Satisfied, she handed back the purse. “You lookin’ for Uncle Sam or T-Rex?”

Liz frowned. Who were Uncle Sam and T-Rex?

“Actually,” she said, “I need to talk to Joshua Duff. I understand he’s staying at Haven.”

“That big dude? Over there shootin’ hoops.” Shauntay gestured with her chin. “He come in yesterday. Friend of Uncle Sam. They was soldiers together over in Iraq. He movin’ in here.”

“To Haven? No, I’m sure he plans to go home to Texas soon. He told me so this morning.”

“Texas? What he gonna do there?”

“Oil, I think.” Liz took a moment to study the young woman at her side. Tall and slender with a long graceful neck, Shauntay had the gentle beauty of a gazelle. Her almond eyes were dark brown and framed with long lashes. She could be a model on a magazine cover.

“Oil like what you fry chicken with? Or oil like you put in a car engine? Or hair oil?”

“The kind they make into gasoline. I believe Sergeant Duff’s family is in the oil drilling business.” Liz smiled. “What about you, Shauntay? What do you plan to do with your life?”

“Me?” She touched her chest as if the question surprised her. “I always wanted to have a hair place and do braids and weaves and twists and locs, you know? But I got two babies already, and I ain’t even finished school yet. T-Rex say I could have a hair place if I want to. If I try hard and get my GED and all that.”

“T-Rex?”

“Terell. The man. Him—over there with all the kids crawling on him.” Shauntay laughed. “T-Rex. He funny, you know? We like him. He make us believe, because we see how he done his life—comin’ up out of the hood and into the NBA, gettin’ rich, then losin’ everything to bein’ a pipe head. And then he come here to help us do better. Him and Uncle Sam. I think that big guy gonna stick around, too. He done fightin’ in Iraq, and he good friends with Uncle Sam. You seen his tats? Dog. ”

“Tats?”

Shauntay pointed out the tattoos that marked her arms and knuckles. “I used to be a 51 MOB queen, you know. A Hood Rat. They had me slangin’ keys and runnin’ from the 5-0 and everything else. The homeboys used to jump on us queens. They said we couldn’t get out once we was in. They’d kill us. But I got out and got both my babies out, too. Now I spend my time at Haven. I worked my way up through KP and laundry all the way to Duke duty. One of these days, I really might get my GED and start me a hair place.”

Liz tried to assimilate the information. Shauntay used a slang she didn’t know and spoke English with an accent almost as unfamiliar as that of the refugees who passed through her cubicle every day. Though she had merely stepped from a St. Louis street into a St. Louis building, Liz felt much as she had the first day she got off an airplane in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Haven was another country. Another world.

“I’m glad you spend your time here,” Liz told Shauntay. “You’re a beautiful young lady. I hope you do get your degree and start your own business. I’d be your first customer.”

“You?” At this, Shauntay laughed so hard that Liz began to wish she hadn’t said anything. Even Duke appeared unnerved as he paced back and forth on his leash. Shauntay shook her head. “Lady, you white! ”

“So? I have hair, don’t I?”

“You got hair, but…” The young woman took a step closer. “Lemme see you.”

Liz tilted her head to one side. Shauntay gently dipped her fingertips into the mass of loose brown curls. For a moment, she murmured unintelligible comments, as if assessing something completely foreign. Then she made a sound like a cat purring.

“Yo, Ms. Wallace, I bet I could do you a goddess braid.” The pronouncement was definitive. “I got two or three ideas in mind already.”

Liz felt strangely happy. She took Shauntay’s hand. “Deal. But not tonight. I have to give these papers to the sergeant over there and head home. I’m exhausted.”

“When you gonna come back?”

“Come back…” The implications of her offer sank in. “Later. Maybe this weekend.”

“Okay, Saturday. What time?”

Liz glanced across the room and noted that Joshua Duff had stopped shooting baskets. He was staring at her.

“I’m not sure about Saturday,” she said. “I’ll need to check my calendar.”

“You got it in your bag?”

“Um…” Now he was walking toward her. “Listen, Shauntay, I’ll be back soon. I promise. Would you give these papers to Sergeant Duff? I need to get going.”

“You ain’t comin’ back. I met people like you before. Make promises and don’t do nothin’.”

“No, I will be back.” Liz focused on the young woman’s mahogany eyes. “All right, Saturday. Two o’clock. You can do a braid for me.”

She made an attempt to pass off the paperwork. Shauntay shrugged one shoulder and turned away. “We’ll see. C’mon, Duke. Let’s go talk to Raydell. Probably some Hypes out there on the street tryin’ to move in on our set.”

“Wait. Please.” Liz wrapped her arms around the sheaf of documents as she watched Shauntay saunter away and Joshua Duff approach. This had been a mistake. She would get it over with as quickly as possible.

“Liz Wallace.” His damp white T-shirt clung to his chest. Through the thin fabric, the tattoos were visible, marking his biceps. She dragged her focus to his face. White-flecked navy-blue eyes pinned her. “You’re here.”

“As you see.” She made an effort to copy Shauntay’s gesture of indifference. “I thought I’d drop off a copy of my agency’s handbook and some of the other information I mentioned on the way to the airport this morning. Lists of supplies your family will need. Community resources. Government assistance programs. Here you go.” She held out the documents.

He stood motionless. “Why did you come?”

“The paperwork.” Again, she pushed it at him.

“But I didn’t intend to see you again.”

“You didn’t?” His statement confused her. “You’re still planning to resettle the refugee family from Paganda, aren’t you?”

He appeared perplexed for a moment. Then he nodded. “Oh, yeah. I worked on it this afternoon.”

“These will help you.”

This time he took the paperwork. “You caught me off guard. I’ve been shooting hoops.”

She tried not to look at his chest. “Yes. Well, I hope you’re having fun. This is a nice place for the kids. Your friend has done a good job.”

“Do you want to meet Sam?”