Danielle Steel - Safe Harbour

“God, I wish you'd stop doing that. I don't know what it's going to take to convince you. One of these days, Ophélie, something terrible is going to happen. I just don't want it to happen to you. They've been lucky, but they can't be lucky forever. Your exposure is too great, and so is theirs. You're out there two nights a week. Sooner or later the odds will get you, if nothing else.”

“I'll be all right,” she tried to reassure him, but as always, he was unconvinced.

He left at five, and a few minutes later, Alice came to baby-sit for Pip. It was routine by now. Ophélie had been doing it since September, and she felt completely confident about it, unlike Matt, who had constant forebodings of disaster. But Ophélie didn't share them. She knew the team well, and how capable they were. They were always sensible and cautious. They were cowboys, as they said themselves, but cowboys who knew their way around the streets, and watched their backs, and hers. And she had grown skilled at what she was doing too. She was no longer an innocent on the streets.

By seven o'clock, she was in the van, with Bob driving, and Jeff and Millie in the other van. They had added more supplies for their route, a number of food items, more medical supplies, warm clothes, condoms, and there was a wholesaler donating down jackets to them regularly. The vans were loaded that night, and the night was bitter cold. Bob told her with a grin that she should have worn long johns.

“So how's by you?” he chatted amiably, as they always did. “How was Christmas?”

“Pretty good. The day was tough.” They had both been through it, and he nodded. “But we went to Tahoe the day after. We went skiing with friends. It was fun.”

“Yeah, we went up to Alpine last year too. I've got to get the kids up this year. It's expensive though.” It made her aware again of how lucky she was not to have those worries. He had three mouths to feed and very little money. But he did everything he could for his children. “How's your romance, by the way?” They shared a lot, driving around all night, and they had their kids and widowhood in common. They exchanged a lot of advice and information, and talked more than they would have in an office. This was no desk job.

“What romance?” She looked innocent, and he shoved her playfully.

“Don't give me that, you phony. Couple a months ago you had a twinkle in your eye. Looked like Cupid got you in the ass…so what happened?” He liked her. She was a good woman with a lot of heart, and from what he'd seen on the streets working with her, a lotta balls, as he'd often said to Jeff. She was afraid of almost nothing. She had never held back, never hung back, she was right out there, night after night, every week, helping with the others. And all three of the regulars loved her. “So what's with the romance?” he persisted. They had time to chat as they headed toward the Mission.

“I'm chicken. Sounds stupid, I guess. He's a wonderful man, and I love him, but I just can't, Bob. Or not yet at least. I think too much has happened.” There was no point explaining to him about Ted and Andrea's baby, or the horrifying things she had said about Ophélie and Chad in her letter, which implied that Ted agreed with her, that Ophélie was incompetent and had handled their mentally ill son abominably and was the cause of his problems. The sheer cruelty of it still killed her. She had even asked herself if what Andrea had said was true, and she had exacerbated Chad's problems. Even if she'd been manipulating Ted, maybe there was some truth to it. She had tortured herself endlessly over the letter and finally burned it, so Pip would never find it and read it, as she had.

“I know, I know. A lotta shit happened to me too, when my wife died. It's hard to believe now, but you get over it. Enough to put your life back together. And by the way.” He tried to look nonchalant as he glanced out the window and not at “Opie,” as they all called her. She had come to like it. “I'm getting married.” He dropped the bomb on her, and she cheered when she heard it.

“Good for you! That's terrific. What do your kids think?”

“They like her… they love her… they always did.” Ophélie knew his fiancée had been his wife's best friend, which seemed to be a familiar story among widowers. They married their late wives' sisters or best friends. It was familiar to them.

“When?” Ophélie was pleased for him.

“Ah shit, I dunno… she's never been married before, so she wants to make it a big deal. I just want to go down to City Hall and get it over with.”

“Don't be such a spoilsport. Enjoy it. Hopefully, you'll never get married again.”

“Yeah, I hope not. She's a good woman though, and kinda like my best friend.”

“That's the best way.” Like the way she was with Matt. It was just too bad that she couldn't get over her own terrors enough to have a real relationship with him. She almost envied Bob. But his wife had been gone longer than Ted. Maybe one day, she hoped, she could throw caution and terror to the winds, and do it.

They skirted the edges of the Mission after that, did their drop-offs in Hunters Point, and had no trouble at all. It reminded her of how unnecessary Matt's fears for her were when she was on the streets. She was completely relaxed, and joking with Millie and Jeff when they stopped for hot coffee and something to eat. It was freezing outside, and the people on the street were miserable, and grateful for everything they gave them.

“Man, it's coooolllldddd tonight,” Bob said as they drove off again. They covered the loading docks and the railroad tracks, the underpasses and the back alleys, as they always did. They worked Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Streets, although Bob said he never liked them. There were too many drug deals going down and people who could feel threatened by them, and thought they might interfere. It was never a good idea to interrupt business on the street. The people they wanted to reach were those who were simply trying to survive, not those who were preying on them. Sometimes the signals could get mixed. But Jeff liked that neighborhood, and he was right at times, there were huge numbers of homeless lying in the doorways and back alleys, under rags and tarps, and in the boxes they called “cribs.”

They cut into an alley called Jesse between Fifth and Sixth, because Millie told Jeff she saw a couple of people at the far end of it, and both of them hopped out. Bob and Ophélie waited, and figured with only a few people visible, the others could handle it, but Jeff signaled to them for sleeping bags and coats, which were stored in Bob and Ophélie's van. And she hopped out first.

“I'll get it,” she called back over her shoulder, and Bob hesitated, but she moved so fast, she was halfway down the alley with the bags and coats in her arms before Bob could get out.

“Hold on!” he shouted after her, and followed her, but the alley looked deserted, except for a crib at the far end. Jeff and Millie were already down there, and Ophélie had nearly reached them when a tall thin man stepped out of a doorway and grabbed her. Bob saw him reach for her, and started running toward them. The man was holding Ophélie by one arm, but oddly enough, she wasn't frightened. As she had learned to do instinctively, she looked him right in the eye, and smiled at him.

“Do you want a sleeping bag and a jacket?” She could tell he was high on something, speed probably, or crystal meth, but her firm gaze telegraphed to him that she wasn't afraid and meant him no harm.

“No, baby, I don't. What else you got? You got anything I want?” The man had huge wild eyes that darted around him.

“Food, medicine, warm coats, some rain ponchos, sleeping bags, scarves, hats, socks, duffel bags, tarps, whatever you want.”