tie loosened and shoes kicked off. His face showed signs of fatigue behind the grin. Claire came up behind him, not sure whether to stroke his dark hair or yank it out by the roots. The softness beneath her fingers convinced her not to pull.
“Okay, I guess I’ll let you off this once. But you didn’t have to bring home pizza. There was dinner in the refrigerator.”
Ben looked up into her face, seeming surprised. The motion pushed his head into her midsection, almost making her forget the exciting things she wanted to tell him about her fellowship meeting.
“Wow. You must want something. You don’t usually let me get away with anything that easy.” He quirked one eyebrow, questioning her.
The man knew her way too well. That was one of the downsides of marrying your high school sweetheart. Things got very predictable at times. “Maybe. Well, okay, yes. I do want something. Let me tell you about what I found out tonight.”
Ben held up a hand. “If it’s church gossip, I don’t want to know.”
Claire resisted the urge to really yank that beautiful wavy dark mane. “You know better than that. Do you want more of that soda to drink while you listen to this?”
Ben sighed. “Sure. But if you pour some for yourself, make it decaffeinated. You seem to have enough charge already this evening.”
Ben sat at the kitchen table, trying very hard to focus on what Claire was saying. It wasn’t easy. There was already so much other stuff bouncing around in his brain. And her enthusiasm made her glow. Both those things together made him want to scoop her up and take her upstairs, instead of having a serious discussion.
Claire really wanted this discussion, though, so he was going to have to put his thoughts on hold and pay attention. It was still hard for him to follow her train of thought.
“Now let me get this straight,” he said, when she paused for a moment. “This is something you really want to do on your own?” It just didn’t sound like Claire.
Claire nodded. “It really is. The women’s fellowship group is really excited about starting this community closet idea. And I could do it.”
“Sounds to me like a giant rummage sale with no profit.” At least it wasn’t going to cost him anything. Although knowing Claire, she’d find a way to make it cost him something.
Claire’s brow wrinkled. “Then you’re missing the point, or I’m not explaining things very clearly.”
“Must be me. We know you’re always crystal clear in your explanations.” That would probably get a coaster tossed at his head, but he couldn’t resist.
“Very funny. Let me try it again. Maybe I should start by asking what you don’t understand.”
“Why anybody would want to spend weeks, or maybe even months, sorting through a bunch of cast-off clothing, if you’re not going to either bale it up and send it someplace to a mission, or sell it to make a profit.”
Claire took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll try to give you the short story that Nessa gave us. I did tell you about Nessa, didn’t I?”
Now it was Ben’s turn to nod. “And she must have really impressed you.”
“She did. And what she said was so simple, Ben. See, this program gathers good, gently used women’s business apparel. Then it recycles the clothing to people who need to go on job interviews, start an office job, whatever.”
Her eyes widened into dark pools again, bringing back Ben’s urge to hold her.
“Imagine it. You gather the skills to get your family off public assistance and finally be self-supporting. But when you go out to do interviews, nobody hires you because you don’t have a suit or nice shoes or a briefcase to carry your papers in.” Her eyes blazed. “Ben, that’s just not fair.”
“Of course it isn’t. Life in general doesn’t seem to be most of the time.” If Claire hadn’t figured that out by now, he must have been sheltering her even more than he thought.
“I know. But most things that aren’t fair, I can’t do much about. This I can.”
Claire pulled her long legs up in the chair with her, wrapping her arms around them. Then she started ticking off reasons on her fingers, while Ben tried to listen instead of just watching the dancing fingertips.
“I know how to organize things. I know who to get hold of to get the church a quality supply of gently used business clothes. And they’ve already got most of the space in the Sunday School building, so I wouldn’t even have to take up much room here.”
“Much room? We don’t have any room to run a thrift shop out of the house.”
There was that forehead wrinkle again.
“It’s not a thrift shop. I keep trying to tell you that. It’s a community service. And we wouldn’t do anything but sort a few things here, anyway.”
Ah, Claire and her enthusiasm. “Please, define a few of those terms. Like who ‘we’ would be, and what kind of ‘few things’ you would be sorting, whoever you are.”
She sighed. It was really more of a snort of impatience, but if he pointed that out she’d offer to deck him. Claire saw herself as more genteel than sixteen years of life with the guys had made her.
“I don’t know who everybody will be yet. Whoever else decides that this is the project of their hearts, I guess. And we’d sort things here until we got them in some sort of shape to take to church. And when I say here, I really mean Dad’s apartment. It’s vacant, and nobody needs it for anything.”
“So nice of you to consult me before deciding that.” Now Ben knew he was the one who sounded sharp.
“Well? Do you need it for anything?” Claire challenged.
“I might.” That sounded like the boys arguing. Maybe even less mature. “I guess it would have been nice to be asked before you made up your mind on all this. You didn’t tell them at church that you’d do it, did you?”
There was that snort again.
“I most certainly did not. Am I usually that impulsive?”
Ben shrugged. “Where good works are concerned, I have to say yes, sometimes you are.”
“Not on anything this big. This is a project that won’t be over in six weeks. Just setting it up will take that long or longer. And then whoever commits to leading the group will probably have to commit a year or more to the leadership.”
Ben whistled. “A year? As in twelve months, volunteer, just out of the goodness of your heart?”
“A year. Not full time or anything. Some weeks it would be only a few hours, some more like fifteen or twenty, depending on what stage of things we’re in. And yes, it would be all volunteer. This is a service, a ministry.” Her brow wrinkled again. “Besides, it’s not like anybody’s paying me now to do anything.”
“That’s true. But I thought that was the way you wanted things. The way we both wanted things.” This conversation was changing
