Читать книгу A Home for Her Family - Virginia Carmichael - Страница 9

Chapter One

“We’ve got a crisis of epic proportions.” Jack Thorne dodged a flying soccer ball and motioned toward the Downtown Denver Mission’s cafeteria kitchen. “One of the big industrial food choppers went on the fritz.”

“That’s a disaster on a regular day, but right now...” Gavin grimaced and left the rest of the thought unfinished.

“Maybe we should lend a hand.”

Jack could see the kitchen staff working frantically, sacks of vegetables and potatoes on every surface. The kids hated to skip a single practice and as the coach, he loved the team’s commitment. But with Easter brunch in two days, he wondered if they should just give the kids the evening off. “Not that I have a problem with chopping fifty pounds of potatoes, but there are twenty little kids over there to think about.” Gavin nodded toward the players honing their instep kicks, shrieks of laughter echoing around the gym.

“Good shot, William!” Jack clapped for a little blond boy who managed to send the ball somewhere close to his partner. “What’s worse, missing practice or missing Easter?”

“The mission will celebrate with or without mashed potatoes. But if you feel that badly, maybe you should make a corporate donation of a large food processor.” Gavin grinned, stepping out of the way as a little girl chased a wayward ball. “Just sneak it into the stack of paperwork you sign on a regular basis.”

Jack snorted. Being the vice president of Colorado Supplements wasn’t quite the way people pictured it. Sure, he was the boss’s son and the one poised to take over the state’s biggest business, but he didn’t have much say on what happened around the place. He was only a figurehead, a desk jockey who was paid to show up and smile. “The paperwork would take months. Easter is in two days. Marisol is losing her mind this very minute.”

The mention of his day job made a sour taste rise up in Jack’s throat. He’d always known he wasn’t cut out for the business world, with its emphasis on the corporate ladder, endless meetings and miles of red tape. And he’d known for even longer that his father planned to turn over the business to his only son. Some called it being groomed from birth, but that was only a miniscule portion of the whole picture. Family expectations, being force-fed his college education and his own years of nodding weakly at every suggestion had helped Jack climb the corporate ladder. Right into the vice president position. The only way out looked like a long fall back to earth and a lot of hurt feelings.

A soccer ball soared alarmingly close to Gavin’s head and he ducked, laughing. “I think Grant already called in the mechanic. Let’s hope he gets it fixed, or the workers will be pulling an all-nighter.”

Jack shook himself out of his depressing thoughts. He waved an arm and jogged toward the lines of kids partnering up near the edge of the gym. Spring was coming, Easter was in a few days and his life was changing. No. Correction: he was making life-changing decisions, taking power back into his own hands, learning to be true to his individual purpose in life.

He drew in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. God was good, all the time. He knew what he had to do and prayed that his father would forgive him for it.

The gym doors swung open and Lana, the secretary, entered, arms propelling her wheelchair with swift movements. Her purple-tipped crew cut gave the impression of someone with an ingrained toughness who didn’t take any guff. That was all true, but Lana’s tender patience was the perfect counterpoint to her no-nonsense attitude. In short, she was the best person to act as gatekeeper to such a large homeless center.

Jack raised a hand in greeting and she smiled back, motioning to the people behind her. A young woman strode through the door, black hair coming loose from its braid. She had dark smudges under her large eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well for more nights than she could count. Even though exhaustion was written on her face, her shoulders were straight and her lips set in a firm smile. She held a small dark-haired girl by one hand and in the other she carried a green metal box by the handle. An older child trailed behind, eyes wide as she watched the soccer team. As soon as they were through, Lana went back to the reception area with a wave.

“Uh-oh. Stragglers. I’ll go let them know that dinner was over an hour ago.” Jack loped away from the group, leaving Gavin to supervise. Maybe Marisol had something left over for these three. He sure hoped so. The mom looked as if she needed a place to sit down and rest for a minute. Or a day or two.

As he got closer, the woman met his gaze, a direct question in her dark eyes. But they ended up speaking at the same moment.

“Can I help you?”

“Can I help y—?” Jack broke off at the last word, laughing. Not sure why he’d need help at his own soccer practice, but he liked her answering smile.

She was at least half a foot shorter than he was and titled her head up as she stepped closer. “I’m sorry to interrupt your practice. Go ahead. We’ll keep out of your way.” She had a soft accent, her vowels ringing pure and clear.

“Dinner was over a while ago. I think the head cook, Marisol, might have something left. I can go see, if you and your girls want to wait here.” He glanced at the little kids, noting both had the same heart-shaped face and thickly lashed dark eyes as their mom. They peered back shyly, as if he was the strangest part of their day by far. The younger one met his gaze and dropped her head, staring down at her scuffed sneakers. Her little chin tucked into her chest, as if she was trying to disappear. The hem of her pink T-shirt was unraveling and her pants were threadbare at the knees.

The woman’s brows arched up. “Thank you, we’ve had dinner. Grant called me to fix the kitchen equipment.” She lowered the green case to the ground. The faint sound of metal tools echoed back. “But I don’t want the girls in the kitchen while I work. It’s not safe.”

She glanced at the group of kids practicing long passes. “Is it possible they could stay out here and watch?”

Jack struggled to catch up, feeling as though he’d assumed too much, although he was certain female mechanics were few and far between. “Sure. I can let them have some balls to kick around here at the end.” He paused. “I’d let them join the group for tonight, but all the parents have to sign waivers before their kids can play.”

She held out her hand, corners of her mouth tilted up. “Thank you. I’m Sabrina Martinez. This is Kassandra and Gabriella.”

Jack took her hand and nodded, thinking he had never heard such beautiful names said in quite that way. Soft, musical, like a few notes of a song.

“And you are?” she prompted him, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Her hand was warm and soft, not the sort of hand he’d imagine for a mechanic.

He cleared his throat. All that time sitting in a boardroom with sixty-year-old men and he was losing his touch. “Jack Thorne.”

“Can we, Tía? Please?” The older girl tugged on her aunt’s hand. “We’ll be really good.”

In response, the woman flashed a smile that made Jack blink. “Best behavior, remember.”

The two nodded, dark ponytails jumping in unison, and exchanged gleeful looks.

“I’ll head on in, and thanks again.” She adjusted her backpack and picked up the green box. He couldn’t imagine how much it weighed, but she lifted it easily.

“No problem.” His voice sounded odd to his own ears. The slightest whiff of cinnamon followed her as she brushed past.

Gavin’s voice reminded Jack he had a team to coach. “Looks like we’ve got visitors.” It wasn’t a question, but a friendly statement, and the girls responded with identical grins.

“This is Kassandra and Gabriella.” He tried to say it just like Sabrina had, but it came out sounding as if he was a stuffy Italian duke in need of a kingdom. “Their mom is working on the food chopper so they’ll just hang out near the end zone for a while.”

“She’s our aunt,” Gabriella volunteered. “And you can call me Gabby.”

“I’m Kassey,” whispered the younger one.

Gavin went down on one knee and shook each small hand. “Well, princesas, find a ball and enjoy yourselves. We’ll be over there.”

The two girls giggled simultaneously and trotted off to retrieve a soccer ball.

“Impressive.” Jack shot Gavin a look. “Princesas? Please tell me that’s not the only word you know in Spanish.”

As they turned back to the kids practicing drills, Gavin said, “I’ve been taking classes for a few weeks. And every girl wants to be a princess, right? It doesn’t hurt to throw that in during the conversation.”

“I’ll make a note. As always, I’m running to catch up with the wonderful Gavin Sawyer. If you weren’t my favorite brother-in-law, you would really be getting on my nerves.”

“I’m your only brother-in-law.” Gavin scooped up a stack of orange cones and handed them to Jack. “And I’m only trying to catch up to that pretty twin sister of yours. She’s always cooking up some new plan to save the world.” Gavin paused, thinking. “No, that’s not right. She’s never trying to save the whole world. Just her little corner, one person at a time.” His smile said more than his words could, about how Evie inspired him, how she had taught him to hope.

Jack wanted to roll his eyes at the expression on Gavin’s face, but part of him wished he knew how it felt to be so deeply in love. He’d always thought he’d find the right girl, settle down, have a few kids, nothing complicated about it. Now all those steps would have to wait awhile. He was on the verge of leaving a high-paying position with a guaranteed future for financial uncertainty. No woman would see him as a good candidate for marriage if he walked away from a life of security. He had his reasons, but they were hard to explain. Something about God’s will for his life and being true to his calling. Definitely not ideas he could toss around on a first date.

He laid out the orange cones in a line around the cafeteria and tried to shrug off the suspicion he had wasted the best years of his life as a corporate flunky. He’d tried to make the job work, tried to get involved in other levels besides meeting and greeting VIP visitors to Colorado Supplements. But last week’s meeting with Bob Barrows had clinched his decision. The way Barrows had mocked him for wanting to see the production statistics still rang in his head. He was just the boss’s kid and that would never change. Not there anyway.

It was time for new chapters. He had his savings, a long list of clients built up and an excellent reputation as one of the best snowboarders in Denver.

He was going to focus on disentangling himself from the family company and salvaging his relationship with his father. Sabrina’s teasing expression flickered into his mind. Beautiful, accented women wielding tools were not on the radar, unfortunately. He had plenty of work to do on his own life without making it any more complicated.

* * *

“Sabrina, mija!” Marisol grabbed her in an enormous hug that squeezed the air out of her. Sabrina suspected the enthusiastic greeting was less for her personally than for her toolbox, but she returned it with equal fervor. It was the nicest thing that had happened to her all day and she savored the warmth of her embrace for a moment.

“Show me the equipment and I’ll get started.” She glanced around at the hurrying kitchen staff. Two days before Easter was pretty bad timing. Dios, ayude me. The mission needs this machine to work.

Marisol motioned her to the Hobart chopper and hurried away, calling over her shoulder, “Thank you!” Lines of kitchen staff stood side by side at the long steel tables, chopping vegetables.

Sabrina stood in front of the old Hobart and tried not to groan. They had met before and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. Sure, it could process six hundred pounds of potatoes an hour, but it was still a cranky old piece of equipment. The blades were sharp and most of the gears were new, but the motor was barely clanking along.

She sighed and set her toolbox on the ground. Running from job to job all that day, she had just sunk into her couch and whispered a prayer of thanksgiving when the phone rang. She’d hustled the girls out of their bath and minutes later been out the door again, Kassey and Gabby in tow. Her mothering skills left a lot to be desired. The poor kids should be in bed, not running all over town.

Straightening up, she brushed back her hair. No, that was no way to think. Her nieces were loved and safe and fed. If everything went well, she’d be their permanent legal guardian within months. She did the best she could and God always filled in the gaps. Self-pity would have to wait for another day.

Soft voices interrupted her thoughts. Marisol had her arm around a young girl, speaking in Spanish to her in soothing tones. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, but looked frail and small. Her face was pinched, her shoulders hunched and the kitchen apron swamped her tiny frame. Large dark eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for danger.

“You’re okay here, Jimena. No one will hurt you. It is loud, but you are safe.”

Sabrina focused on her toolbox and tried not to listen. But the expression on the young girl’s face seemed close to panic. Why would anyone be scared of working in the kitchen? Maybe the equipment made her nervous. She could understand some people, especially those new to the large machines, not feeling comfortable around the loud motors.

“I can leave anytime? I can go?” Jimena’s voice trembled at every word.

“Of course. Do you want to go back to your room?”

Sabrina peeked up to see Marisol ushering the girl back toward the kitchen entryway.

Jimena stopped, taking deep breaths, dark eyes still wide with fear but not as panicked. “I—I would like to try to work here. Just for a little while.”

“Come stand by me. We will work together. And give yourself time. You have been through a very bad experience.” Marisol slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “No one blames you, Jimena. You went for a job. Those men were criminals and they will be caught.”

The two walked slowly back to the gleaming metal table. Jimena stayed close to Marisol, choosing a knife and beginning to work.

Sabrina stared unseeing at the concrete floor. Just when she thought her life was difficult, she heard of something worse. Much worse. She couldn’t even imagine what might have happened to that girl, but she could guess. Stories swirled about young people, especially girls, being lured to job sites and then never being allowed to leave. Months of slave labor was the very least of what happened, and even that was enough to scar a person deeply.

She swallowed. It happened, and more often than anyone thought. A lack of education and family meant desperation. Starvation. Utter poverty. Images of her nieces, laughing and running toward the soccer ball, made her throat constrict. Please, God. Help me keep them from all harm. Help us stay together. Help the judge see that I’m capable of caring for them.

Shrugging off her backpack, she pulled out her coveralls and slipped them on. It was warm in the kitchen, but she never went without her hard hat and safety goggles, even if it meant she was going to be sporting crazy hair and sweaty lines on her face. She glanced at her hands and saw the grease under her nails. Jack had almost swallowed his tongue when she’d shaken his hand. She could see why. A man like Jack was probably surrounded by polished women who got professional haircuts and manicures.

She felt her lips tug up at the thought of what Maya would do at the sight of Jack. Maya, who lived upstairs, was nineteen and officially boy crazy. She would have at least gotten a phone number. The man was obviously athletic, impressively muscled, attired in expensive athletic gear—those things warranted that first glance. Then there was the classically handsome face and shockingly blue eyes, and a matching set of dimples upped the swoon factor. A man like that could have any woman he wanted.

But enough of the daydreaming. She needed to focus or they’d be here all night.

She laid out her small tools and started to remove the front of the food processor. The hinged hood would have to be secured so she could get underneath. Sabrina turned to her toolbox, shaking her head.

“What? It can’t be fixed? We will cancel Easter?” Marisol’s worried voice cut through her thoughts.

“No, sorry, just thinking.” She reached out and squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “I need a prop for the hood.”

Marisol blinked, not understanding.

Sabrina switched to Spanish while peering around the kitchen for something the right height. There had been a metal prop attached to the inside of the Hobart once upon a time, but it had long ago broken off and been discarded. Could she use a chair? No, the legs would be in her way. Frustration coursed through her. She had a small jack that expanded to four feet and supported a hundred pounds, just for machines like the old Hobart, but she’d left it at home.

Marisol lifted a finger in the just-a-minute gesture. “Wait here.”

Sabrina nodded. Not much choice. She could still loosen the parts on the bottom while Marisol went to fetch a small stool or ladder. The machine was clogged with hours-old potato pieces and she scooped the remains to the side, the dank smell clinging to her snug-fitting work gloves. She didn’t mind engine grease, but rotten-vegetable wasn’t high on her list of wearable perfumes.

The enormous kitchen echoed with the steady sound of knives hitting chopping blocks and the dishwasher running in the corner. She felt the rhythm of the place, as comforting as a heartbeat, and relaxed into the work. Her small power drill made a quick job of the screws and in a few minutes the machine stood exposed. Sabrina sat back on her heels and wiped the sweat from her face with one arm.

“Nice hat.”

She startled backward at the deep voice and landed directly on her bottom. Her face flamed as she scrambled back to her feet. The good-looking soccer coach was feet away, perfectly at home in the mission kitchen.

Touching the back of her hard hat, she remembered Gabby’s little gift. She’d earned it at school and Sabrina couldn’t bear to get angry over the fact it had ended up on her work uniform. It was an act of little-girl generosity, because Gabby had been sure her aunt wanted a big sparkly pink star of her very own. “Do you need something?”

He laughed, bright eyes locked on her face. “You keep asking me that.”

“Are the girls okay?”

“Everybody’s fine.” He moved closer to the Hobart. “Marisol said you needed help.”

Of course. The way this day was going, she should have guessed that Marisol wouldn’t bring a ladder or a prop. She would bring a man, and one who spoke in a deep, chocolaty baritone that made Sabrina wish she wasn’t wearing coveralls and coated in potato peels. She blew out a sigh and jerked her shoulder toward the metal sheet that was the front of the chopper.

“I need to get into the engine, but there’s nothing to hold up the cover.” Searching for a tool spared her from having to make eye contact and seeing the look on his face.

“Sure.” He stood close to the cover, one hand on the edge. “There’s no way to lock the hinge?”

“No. I usually have a prop, but I forgot it at home.” The idea of him hovering as she worked made her palms sweat. “It’s up right now, but with all the vibration of the machinery, it could fall while I’m working. I don’t want my nose squashed into the gears if I can help it.”

“I’ll be the spotter.” He set his feet apart, seeming comfortable enough.

“Spotter?”

“It’s a sports term. You’re the athlete and I’m the person who stands nearby to catch you if you fall.” He was smiling that slow smile that started at the corners of his mouth and worked toward his eyes.

Sabrina nodded and ducked under the hood, swallowing back a sudden wave of emotion. It had been a very long time since anyone had been there to catch her. Even when her parents were alive, she had been the one responsible for interpreting for them, for talking to bosses and apartment managers. After her mother died, her dad’s drinking meant she was head of the household at sixteen. It was impossible to keep her little sister under control. By the time Rosa was twenty, she’d had two babies. Another year and she’d been gone, off to live with some guy she met on the internet, a guy who didn’t want the responsibility of kids.

Turning a wrench with a quick twist of her wrist, Sabrina tried to focus on the job at hand. Responsibility was her middle name. All work and no play was her motto. It was nice to think of having a partner, to not be the only one in charge, but in the end it was all up to her. Better to face that fact and not be disappointed. Plus, when fighting for custody, the court looked more kindly on a woman who was focused on the kids and not her social life.

“Do you carry all your tools in your trunk?” His voice came from somewhere right above her head.

“My trunk?” It was easier to talk this way, as if she was talking to the grumpy Hobart.

“Of your car.”

“Oh.” She dropped a few bolts into the tin near her foot. “I don’t have a car. We took the bus.”

There was a pause. Sabrina stared at the shiny blades of the peeler. She didn’t like taking the bus with two little girls at this hour of the night, but a job was a job, especially since the rent just went up. Again. There were only so many hours in the day. Soon it wouldn’t matter how much she worked—they would have to move to a smaller apartment in a tougher neighborhood.

“My nieces are pretty good about staying out of the tools, but thanks again for letting them play in the gym. When I was taking night classes, they sat in the hallway, right outside the open doorway of the classroom. It was tough, even with picture books and crafts. A few professors would let them sit in the back of the room, but they still had to be quiet.”

“Not a problem. They’re having a great time. In fact, they’re better than most of the regular team. Does their mom work at night?”

She reached for a rag to wipe off more potato sludge and said, “They live with me.” The whole story was too complicated for the moment. She hoped he understood that. The story of her childhood, her dad’s drinking and her sister’s wild life wasn’t something she shared with anybody outside of a court. Even then, it was humiliating to own the disaster of her family life and the poverty of her past. She needed to prove to the court she was the best one to take care of the girls. If they ended up in foster care, her heart would break.

“Interesting. I’ve never met a—”

With a loud clank, the tool slipped from her hand and rolled a few feet away. Sabrina closed her eyes, wishing she could click her heels and the chopper would be fixed. He’d never met a what? A single mother? A fractured family?

He stuck out one foot, not leaving his post by the heavy raised cover, and nudged the wrench back in her direction as if it was a soccer ball. “I’ve never met a professional juggler.”

She snorted. So he was funny as well as athletic and gorgeous. “Just a mediocre one, actually.”

“That’s the thing about juggling. It’s really impressive to the person watching.”

She couldn’t help smiling as the final gear came loose. Even though she usually worked in silence, it felt good to talk to someone older than Kassey. The kitchen sounds were soothing now, less frantic. She wondered if Marisol had sent some of the staff home, but she didn’t turn around to check. The clock was ticking.

“How did you decide to become a mechanic?”

Another swipe of the rag and the last half-peeled potato came out of the chopper. “I took classes.”

Jack laughed, a sound rich and deep. She felt it from the base of her skull all the way down her spine. “Before that. Did you know it was your calling?”

She shook out the rag and sat back for a second, meeting his gaze. “My calling?”

He nodded, his expression completely serious. “Your purpose in life, if you want to call it that.”

She dropped her gaze to the toolbox and kept her face straight as she searched for the locking pliers.

“You want to say something, but you’re too polite.”

Startled, she let out the laugh she’d been hiding. “True.”

“Go ahead, be honest. I can take it.” And for all his obvious strength, she wondered if he could. It took a lot more than muscles to handle honesty; it took maturity. He looked about her age, maybe a few years closer to thirty.

Sabrina drew in a breath and hoped she was being honest but not rude. Life was too short to be mean. “Finding your purpose in life sounds like something rich people worry about when they have a lot of options.”

His face didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened, as if he was seeing her for the first time. “And you don’t have options.”

“Not many. Not like that.” She ducked back under the hood and hoped that was the end of the conversation. She felt raw, as if he had stripped back layers of accumulated worry and anxiety. The question of purpose, of calling, was something she used to understand. But that was before Rosa had walked away and left her the mother to two little girls.

“You must have a few.”

“Sure,” she said, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the back of her neck as she worked at an old bolt. “I can fail or I can work harder.”

“Like the rest of us, then.” He wasn’t letting the question go and frustration flared inside her, just for a moment. Who was he to ask questions that were already answered? Who really cared why she was a mechanic?

She grabbed a can of industrial solvent and sprayed the inside of the stubborn part. The fumes were a reminder of the dirty, complicated job she did on a daily basis. She had to admit, she hadn’t chosen to be a mechanic because it seemed like fun.

Twisting the sharp steel disks deep in the machine, Sabrina felt his silence like a steady presence. It was the first time in years that anyone had really cared why she did what she did, let alone asked. She was the responsible one, the girl everyone could count on, the one who never dropped a ball.

Crawling out from under the hood, she stood with the wrench in one hand and a rusty bolt in the other. “I decided to be a mechanic because I love working with metal.” She waited for his look of confusion, for those dark brows to jerk up in surprise, for a deep laugh at the concept of loving something most people never even noticed.

“What kind of metal?” Jack’s expression was pure curiosity, nothing more.

“Brass, iron, aluminum. I used to love copper, but that was in my flashy phase.”

He was staring at her, eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite define. She ducked back under the hood. “I think once I get the inside put back together, it’s going to work. Seemed to be jammed.” She sure hoped it was a jam and not an engine failure. Marisol was going to have a breakdown if Easter brunch was postponed.

For once there was silence from Jack. She’d thought she wanted the peace, didn’t need the distraction, but she kept listening for the sound of his voice. His presence was distracting and comforting at the same time, and as her hands replaced part after part, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to get to know him better, sometime when she wasn’t wearing coveralls and a hard hat. He probably had a girlfriend.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, Sabrina tried to focus on the stubborn old machine in front of her. She’d really been working too hard. Her emotions were a mess. All it took was one handsome guy paying her a bit of attention and care, and suddenly she was planning their next date. And she didn’t have the leisure to plan anything more than how to get custody of the girls. That was her sole aim and nothing was going to shake her focus.

It was imperative she show the courts she was steady, reliable and responsible. As soon as she was given custody, they’d find a cheaper place to live. They loved the apartment, true, but she couldn’t keep working around the clock like this. And she couldn’t move now or she might look unstable.

If it weren’t for Rosa and that no-good boyfriend... A flash of anger swept through her and she let out a deep breath, willing herself to focus on forgiveness.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jack standing there. He was so quiet. She wondered what he was thinking and then was irritated at herself for wondering. It didn’t matter what this guy thought of her. The only thing she could focus on right now was keeping the girls in the only family they’d known.

If they could just hang on a little longer, she would be their legal guardian and they could find another place. As it was, she was barely paying the bills. They were getting poorer by the month and something had to give. But it wasn’t going to be their little family; she would make sure of that.

* * *

Jack gripped the hood of the old chopper and stared into space. He had asked what he’d thought was a simple question about her life choices, but her answer hadn’t been what he’d expected. He’d assumed so much without realizing it. It had never been clearer to him that he was coasting along in life, hardly working for the things that he needed. Every door was open to him, but he was passing time in his father’s company and playing businessman. The young woman crouched by his feet had just knocked the breath out of him and didn’t even notice. He struggled to slow his pounding heart. He had been so sure that he wasn’t meant to work at the family company, and now, after one conversation in a noisy kitchen, he was seeing it from a whole new angle. He had stayed because of his dad’s heart attack, but Jack was easing his way out of the business just as his dad was getting better. But now he wondered, who was he to quit a well-paying job because he wasn’t particularly happy? So what if Bob from packaging and distributions had made him feel powerless?

The pettiness of it all made him sick to his stomach. This beautiful girl did what she could and didn’t complain about it, even as she scooped out rotting potato parts from old machines. Why? Because she was being a mother to two little girls who needed her. The utter selflessness of her story made him want to hang his head. He had wasted months dithering over whether to start a snowboarding company on Wolf Mountain, while families like hers were fighting to survive.

“Go ahead and lower the hood.” Sabrina scooted out from under the machine, grabbing the power cord. “I want to see if this crusty old thing will run. Say a prayer.”

Lowering the hood, he stepped back and watched her flip the switch. The engine roared to life and the kitchen erupted into cheers. Marisol flew at Sabrina, chattering in warp-speed Spanish, tears of happiness making tracks on her deeply lined brown cheeks. He couldn’t help but grin at the expression on Sabrina’s face. Half amusement, half relief.

She flipped the machine off and found her drill, making quick work of replacing the bolts. She stood up and looked over at him. “Thanks for your help. Marisol says she’s going to make you tamales.”

“Well, if I’d known there was a reward, I would have volunteered right away.” He pasted on a bright smile, hoping she couldn’t see how rattled he was by their conversation. As it was, she just laughed and brushed off the knees of her coveralls.

“Would you let the girls know we’ve got to get going? I’ll just clean up here and be right out.” She took off the hard hat and started gathering her tools.

“Will do.” He turned to the gym, feeling as if his legs were made of lead. In all his prayers over God’s purpose for his life, as he’d struggled over how to find happiness, he had never once considered that he should just work harder at his job.

A ten-minute conversation with a woman in coveralls had given him a dose of reality. He glanced back, watching her carefully replace her tools in the green metal box. With her fragile features and dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, she looked like any other young woman, but the resolute set of her jaw belied the strength inside. She did what she had to do.

Who was he to walk away from that much money when other people were struggling? Finding your purpose sounds like something rich people worry about when they have a lot of options. Her words echoed around his head, making his worry seem selfish and small.

Jack watched Kassey and Gabby kick the soccer ball back and forth. Joyous and carefree, they were happy because of Sabrina. His father was happy he worked at the family company. Maybe it didn’t really matter how useful he was. Maybe his purpose wasn’t tied to his occupation. Maybe it was a state of being. Generosity, sacrifice and hard work made people happy, not the job.

He let out a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. It would be months before his dad was well enough to put in a full day as head of the company. He would take it one day at a time. Maybe Sabrina’s way was better and putting his own happiness a little farther down the list of priorities would give him peace. He didn’t have anything to lose. Anything had to be better than pretending to love life as the company puppet.

* * *

“Tía Sabrina, we want to join the team!” Kassey ran across the gym floor with her arms open wide, glossy black hair falling out of her pigtails. Her grin was so wide Sabrina could see all her little teeth. She wrapped herself around Sabrina’s waist and beamed up with the perfect confidence of a child.

“We do, we do!” Gabby added her voice to the pleading, tiny hands pulling on Sabrina’s pant leg.

“I think the soccer team is for the mission children.” She felt the familiar sting of having to say no and wished for once, just once, it could be different. She rubbed a hand over Kassey’s hair, feeling the strands flow through her fingers like water.

Jack walked toward them, a soccer ball under one arm. The rest of the children were being met by their parents and excited voices filled the echoing space. “Actually, any children can join. We started our own team here because the residents have trouble getting to the city league practices. And we do have a few openings.”

Setting down her toolbox on the polished gym floor, she glanced up into those bright blue eyes and searched for words. Any words. She wanted to nod and agree, but she couldn’t. She had to explain that there was no way she afford sports equipment on top of school supplies, no way she could bring the girls to practice at the mission every day while taking evening jobs, and absolutely no way she could handle one more task in her life. She just couldn’t.

He went on, his deep voice carrying easily through the noise around them. “We only have practice twice a week, Thursday and Friday. All the equipment is paid for through a special grant organized by one of the local churches.”

“Please?” Kassey managed to make the word into several syllables while her voice rose two octaves.

“I don’t know, sweetie. We just have so much going on...” Her voice trailed off at the look on her niece’s face. Disappointment, then a brave attempt to blink back tears.

“Okay.” Kassey nodded and took Gabby’s hand. They stood quietly, waiting to go home.

Sabrina sighed. They had sacrificed so much, had lost everything once before. If they had whined and fussed, it would be easier to say no. But that quiet strength tugged at her heart. She turned to Jack, narrowing her eyes. “Tell me the truth. What kind of time commitment is this? And is it really no charge? The equipment is free, but are there team fees? Game fees? Travel fees?”

“Two practices a week. Games on Saturday afternoon at the inside field on Stanton. Everything free.” He didn’t glance at the girls or encourage them at all, and she was thankful for that. He was giving her space to consider, letting her make the decision without any pressure.

“So, they need to try out? What if one gets in but not the other?” She crossed her arms. Stanton Avenue wasn’t far from their apartment. She could walk them down there. No fees and maybe the schedule would work, but these two girls had feelings she needed to consider, too.

He leaned close, dropping his voice. She caught the light scent of soap and masculinity. “We don’t really have tryouts. The kids come and we sign them up. Everybody learns together.” He stood back and the corners of his lips turned up, as if they were sharing a secret.

Heat crept up her neck and she dropped her gaze to Kassey’s hopeful eyes. This was about the girls, not the coach, although her brain was gibbering something about how seeing Jack two times a week could be very interesting. Maybe she wouldn’t even stink of rotten potato peel next time. “Homework will always have to be done first. And you have to be team players. And help each other.”

They both let out tiny shrieks of happiness. “We will, we promise!” Matching pairs of dark eyes shone with joy and Sabrina savored the feeling of being the hero for once. She was always the one who had to say no. But not today.

“Thank you.” The words came out huskier than she’d intended. Her throat felt tight and she swallowed away the sudden emotion. “It’s been a long time since they’ve gotten to do something really fun.”

“No problem.” He laid a hand on Kassey’s shoulder, face serious. “Next practice is Thursday. You two are saving the team. We were short a few players and now we’ll have enough alternates that no one will get too tired out during the game.” He was speaking to them as if they were newly acquired star players.

Their expression of wide-eyed glee made her breath catch. There were caring teachers at school and sweet Mrs. Guzman from upstairs. But there was a hole in their lives where a mom and dad should be. She was determined to keep them together as a family, but she knew what she gave them wasn’t always enough. She did her best to fill a mom’s shoes, but this kind of validation, from someone like Jack, meant more than she’d realized.