Stranger In The Night

“No. I mean, I just swung by to drop off the copies. I’m on my way home. Please greet the Rudi family for me.”

Before he could respond, she turned toward the door.

“Hang on.” He caught her arm, pulled her closer. “Liz, wait.”

“Really, I have to go. I’m tired.”

“Let me introduce you to Sam and Terell.” His hand cupping her elbow, he maneuvered her onto the basketball court. “Sam agreed to help me find Pastor Stephen a job. The guy wants to start a church, but—”

“He does?” Joy washed through her. “We desperately need local churches for the refugees. Pastor Stephen speaks Swahili, right? It’s a common language in eastern Paganda, and many of our people pick it up while they’re living in refugee camps in Kenya or Tanzania. I’ve been hoping to start a Bible study for Swahili speakers at my apartment.”

“You know Swahili?”

“Not well. I learned a little while I was in the DRC, and I’ve been taking classes at the community center. It’s part of my preparation for the UN job.”

He stopped walking. “Africa. You’re going to Africa.”

“Lord willing.”

For a moment, they looked at each other. Liz sensed the activity around them, kids running by, balls bouncing, a child crying, whistles blowing. But all she saw was the desire in Joshua Duff’s eyes. Desire for her.

He wanted her.

She felt his hunger wrap around her chest and tighten her heart. Her own response caught in her throat, taking her breath away. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

“Who’s this?”

A deep voice broke the invisible shell that had surrounded them. Liz glanced up to see the towering T-Rex, the impression of height increased by a golden-haired child perched on his shoulders.

“You got a lady friend, Duff? Why didn’t you tell us she was coming over? Welcome to Haven.” He stuck out a large hand. “I’m Terell Roberts. This is Brandy, up here. She’s my sidekick.”

Liz shook Terell’s hand and focused on the child. The angelic illusion of pink cheeks and blond curls faded beneath the reality of the little girl’s runny nose, matted hair and grimy face.

“Hi, Brandy. My name is Liz Wallace.” She returned to Terell. “And you must be T-Rex. Shauntay pointed you out. I work for Refugee Hope.”

“Liz Wallace—you’re the lady who…” His eyes darted to Joshua for an instant and then back, looking her up and down. “I heard about you. Yeah, you live up to your billing.”

At that, Joshua sobered. “Terell, can you introduce Liz to Sam? I remembered something I need to tell Pastor Stephen. Thanks for the paperwork, Liz. I’ll put this to good use.”

Before she could reply, he strode away, leaving her alone with Terell and Brandy.

“Sergeant Duff and I don’t get along, you see,” she said. “We got off to a bad start this morning at Refugee Hope. The Rudi family came to the States through a different agency, and I didn’t feel I could help them. So we had a bit of conflict.”

“You did?” Terell studied Joshua, who was going into one of the small rooms that lined one side of the basketball court.

“That’s not what Duff told Sam and me at supper. The way I hear it, you’re the prettiest thing he’s laid eyes on in years. Said you’re making him crazy.”

Liz knotted her fingers together. “I’m sure he meant crazy in a negative way. Anyway, it’s been nice to meet you—and you, too, Brandy.”

The little girl waved down from her perch. “Bye-bye!”

“Hold on now—you need to meet Sam,” Terell said. “We’ve got refugees starting to come to Haven, and we need help figuring out how to handle them. Nobody on staff speaks Spanish or Swahili or any of that, and some of those kids talk like lightning in the strangest gobbledygook I’ve ever heard. Sam’s in the office. C’mon, Liz. Follow me.”

Despite her urgency to get away, Liz could do nothing but accompany Terell to the youth center’s office with its long windows overlooking the main room. A striking man wearing Haven’s requisite white T-shirt rose from behind a desk as they entered.

“Sam, meet Liz Wallace. Duff’s lady.” Terell lifted Brandy off his shoulders and set her on the floor. “Liz, this is Sam Hawke. We run Haven.”

“Us and a slew of volunteers. So you’re the woman.” Sam smiled in a way that made Liz even more uncomfortable. “Duff was right.”

“That’s what I told her,” Terell confirmed.

“I’m glad you’re filling our resident Marine sergeant in on the refugee situation,” Sam continued. “We hope he’ll stick around and help us out. The refugees are starting to trickle in here, and I have a feeling we’re going to be inundated before long.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Several resettlement agencies have contracts with apartment managers in this area. Refugee Hope placed families from Burundi and Congo right around the corner. We’re negotiating with a manager to place some incoming Somali immigrants in a building down the street. Terell mentioned that Reverend Rudi is interested in planting a church in the area. I hope you’ll encourage that.”

“A church where they talk Swahili. ” Terell enunciated the word.

Liz smiled. “Refugee Hope has learned that children from our African families assimilate to city street culture very quickly. It’s a way of coping that often leads them into gangs—and then into a lot of trouble. As a faith-based agency, we do all we can to help our immigrants build a stable lifestyle. Any intervention you could provide at Haven would be great.”

“Your visit here tonight can’t be an accident, Liz.” Sam crossed his arms. “The Rudi family must be the tip of an iceberg we’ve just begun to notice. If families are moving into the area at the rate you’re describing, we need to let Haven’s board of directors know about it and put some strategies in place.”

“You have a board?”

The corporate sound of the word contrasted with the pile of dirty white T-shirts in one corner of the room and the row of ancient computers on a long table near the desk. Broken trophies littered a shelf. A large metal barrel labeled Lost & Found overflowed with jackets, caps, mittens and flip-flops.

“Thanks to the legal help of one of our sponsors, Haven went nonprofit a few weeks ago,” Sam explained. “We’re all set up now. We have a grant writer, too.”

“We’re a 501 (c)(3) charitable organization,” Terell clarified. “You can get grants even if you’re faith-based, which we are.”

“Sounds like Haven and Refugee Hope have similar goals.” Liz reached into her purse and pulled out a business card for each man. “Call me if you run into any problems. I’ve given Sergeant Duff a stack of information about our agency and the people we resettle. We have a lot of resources at our fingertips. And please support Pastor Stephen in his effort to start a church. It’s the best thing that could happen to this neighborhood.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” Sam said. “Thanks again for coming by, Liz. You’re welcome anytime.”

“I’ll be back on Saturday. I promised to let Shauntay braid my hair.”

His grin broadened. “Good—you’ll get to meet my fiancée. Ana teaches a writing class on Saturdays.”

Dreading the thought of any deeper involvement with Joshua’s friends, Liz gave the men a nod of farewell and turned to go. “You aren’t planning to walk to your car by yourself, are you?” Terell accompanied her out of the office, Brandy clutching his hand. “Did you park nearby?”

“Not far. Your door guard—Raydell?—will keep an eye on me.”

“Naw, that’s no good. We got Hypes casing our set day and night. They’re looking for trouble. You’ll be a sitting duck out there. Let’s find Duff.”

“No, really it’s—”

Too late. Terell lifted the whistle that hung by a lanyard from his neck and gave an ear-piercing blow. Joshua—who had been hunkered down talking to some kids at the far end of the room—turned to look. So did everyone else.

“Yo, Duff! Your lady!” Terell’s long arm snaked overhead, his index finger pointing down at Liz as he yelled. “Walk her out!”