Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [54]
Food for the Mission was donated by individuals or by local corporations looking for tax write-offs. The residents could stay as long as they needed to, no questions asked, and in return, they offered their services in accordance with whatever abilities they might possess. Some might paint porch railings or repair a ceiling damaged by a leaking pipe, others might help with the landscaping or volunteer to work in the Mission’s thrift shop, where clothing donated by various churches throughout the state was sold.
The residents changed from month to month, week to week. Some would come seasonally, as did the man who worked the cranberry bogs, then sought a bit of a respite before moving south when the cranberry season was over. He would stay at the Mission and offer his services as a mechanic, tuning up whichever of Father Tim’s vehicles needed work. Over the years, the Mission had been the recipient of the charitable donations of two pickup trucks, a sedan, a van, and a station wagon. While used mostly for the Mission’s needs, there were times when a resident who held a valid driver’s license might need transportation to a job interview, or to visit an ailing relative, and Father Tim always made a vehicle available under such circumstances.
The Tuesday dinner crowd at the Ministry of Hope generally numbered around eighteen. When Kendra and Selena arrived with the provisions for the spaghetti dinner they’d volunteered to provide that night, several of the men had already arrived and claimed their places at the two tables that ran the length of what had once been the living room of the old house. Furnishings were intentionally sparse, so that additional tables could be brought in as needed. A serving table was placed at one end of the room, and it was here that plates and flatware could be picked up and taken to the place of choice. Several large bowls of salad and baskets of bread were already on the table.
“How many tonight?” Kendra asked Father Tim when he stuck his head into the kitchen.
“Looks like we’ll have maybe nineteen or so.” The balding, middle-aged man stepped into the room and lifted a pile of plates. “I’ll take these out for you.”
“Thanks.” Kendra smiled.
“Smells good.” The priest nodded toward the large pot of spaghetti sauce.
“Selena’s secret recipe,” Kendra told him.
“So secret it’s on the back of the tomato paste can,” Selena said as she came in through the back door, tying an apron around her waist. “Here, Kendra, I brought one for you, too.”
Kendra held still long enough for Selena to slip the apron over her head.
“I see Paul is back,” Selena said to Father Tim.
“Yes, he didn’t have much luck in Baltimore, I’m afraid.”
“And Alex, I noticed, is here.”
“Same story.” Father Tim shrugged. “For some, it’s a tougher world than others.”
“Who’s the man in the red-and-black-checked jacket?” Kendra asked, looking out the window. “He looks familiar.”
“Could be,” the priest nodded. “He’s Cal Lukins’s ex-son-in-law. Lost his job in Virginia and tried to move back home, but his family isn’t having any of it, since he had all those problems with drugs last year.”
“Is he clean now?” Kendra frowned, remembering Cal as the teenager who used to follow her and Selena to the lake when they went swimming, often standing behind the trees at the edge of the lake to watch.
“Would he be here if he wasn’t?” Father Tim pointed out. “They all know the rules. No drugs, no alcohol, no women.”
“Everyone washes up for meals every day, and no one starts eating until everyone has been served and grace has been said,” Selena added.
“That pretty much sums up the rules of conduct,” Tim nodded.
A car door slammed in the driveway just beyond the open window, and Selena turned to stare at the four men who