He promised to call Jeremy the next day, when he sobered up, and talk straight to him about not only violating the sacred trust of the group, but being abusive about it. And she sounded calm again when Matt called to check on her after dinner. She hadn't said anything more to Pip because she didn't want to frighten her. She had reassured her that the man was harmless and it meant nothing, which was probably true. Ophélie was convinced it was an isolated incident, but it had rattled her nonetheless. But even Pip was relieved to see her looking more engaged again during dinner, and by the next morning, she seemed fine when she left the house to drive Pip to school, and go to work at the Wexler Center.

Blake called her there later that morning, and he told Ophélie that he had spoken to Jeremy and said there would be a restraining order taken out against him if he went near her again. He said Jeremy had cried over it, and admitted he'd gone straight to a bar when the group ended and had been drinking all afternoon right up until he appeared on her doorstep. He was going to have some private therapy sessions with Blake, and he had asked Blake to apologize to her. Blake said he felt confident it wouldn't happen again, but it had been a good lesson to her to be cautious and wary of strangers, even those she knew slightly. There was a whole new world out there, waiting for her, full of evils she had never encountered before, as a married woman. It was not a cheering thought.

She thanked Blake for handling it, and went back to work, and forgot about it. And when she went home that afternoon, there was a letter of apology from Jeremy on her doorstep. He assured her he wouldn't bother her again. Apparently, they all had their own ways of dealing with the destabilizing effect of losing the support of the group. His had just been scarier than most. But it showed her that she wasn't the only one depressed and shaken up by it. It was a major adjustment, and a loss of sorts, to no longer have the group. Now she had to go out in the world, as they all did, and try to use what she'd learned.

As soon as Ophélie set foot in the Center, she forgot her own troubles. She was so busy until three o'clock, she hardly had time to breathe. She loved what she was doing, and everything she was learning. She did two intakes that day. One a couple with two children, who had come from Omaha, and lost everything. They didn't have enough to eat, live, pay rent, take care of the kids, and both husband and wife had lost their jobs. They had no one to turn to, but were valiantly trying to get on their feet, and the Center did everything they could to help, including get them on food stamps, signed up for unemployment, and the kids enrolled in school. They were due to move into a permanent shelter within a week, and it looked as though, with the Center's help, they were going to be able to keep their kids with them, no small feat. It nearly brought Ophélie to tears, as she listened to them, and talked to the little girl, who was exactly Pip's age. It was hard to imagine how people reached that point, but it reminded her again of how lucky she and Pip were. Imagine if Ted had died and left them homeless on top of it. It defied thinking.

The second intake Ophélie did was a mother and daughter. The mother was in her late thirties and alcoholic, the daughter was seventeen and on drugs. The daughter had been having seizures, either as a result of drug use, or for some other reason, and they had been on the streets together for two years. Things were complicated further by the daughter's admission to Ophélie that she was four months pregnant. None of it happy stuff. And Miriam and one of the professional caseworkers stepped in to get them both into rehab, with medical benefits, and prenatal care for the daughter. They were out of the Center and in another facility by that night, and on the way to rehab by morning.

By the end of the week, Ophélie felt as though her head was spinning, but she loved it. She had never felt as useful in her life, or as humble. She was seeing and learning things that were hard to even imagine until you saw and heard them. A dozen times a day she wanted to put her head down and cry, but she knew she couldn't. You couldn't let on to the clients how tragic you thought their situation was, or how hopeless. Most of the time, it was hard to imagine their ever getting out of their desperate situations, but some did. And whether they did or not, like the others at the Center, she was there to do everything she could to help them. She was so moved by everything she was experiencing that her biggest regret, when she went home at night, was that she couldn't tell Ted about it. She liked to believe that he would have been fascinated by it. Instead, she shared as much as seemed reasonable with Pip, without frightening her unduly. Some of the stories were too depressing, or fairly hairy. A homeless man had died on their doorstep that week, on his way into the Center, of alcoholism, kidney failure, and malnutrition. But she didn't tell Pip about him either.

By Friday afternoon, it was clear to Ophélie that she had made the right decision. And that opinion was strongly reinforced by her advisers, those who directed her, and her co-workers. She was obviously going to be an asset to the Center, and she felt as though, for the first time in a year, she had found some purpose and direction that was fruitful.

She was just about to leave when Jeff Mannix of the outreach team breezed past her, and stopped to grab a cup of coffee.

“How's it going? Busy week?” he asked with a grin.

“Seems like it to me. I don't have anything to compare it to, but if it gets any busier around here, we may have to lock the doors so we don't get trampled.”

“Sounds about right.” He smiled at her, taking a sip of the steaming coffee. He had come by to check their provisions, they were adding some new medical and hygiene supplies to their usual offerings. Most of the time, he didn't come to work till six o'clock, and usually stayed on the streets until three or four in the morning. And it was easy to see that he loved what he was doing.

They both talked for a minute about the man who had died on the doorstep on Wednesday. Ophélie was still shaken by it.

“I hate to say it, but I see that out there so often, it no longer surprises me. I can't tell you how many guys I try to wake up, and when I turn them over… they're gone. Not just men, women too.” But there were far fewer women on the streets. Women were more likely to go to the shelters, although Ophélie had heard horror stories about that too. Two of the female intakes she had done that week had told her that they'd been raped at shelters, which was apparently not unusual. “You think you'll get used to it,” he said somberly, “but you never do.” And then he looked at her appraisingly. He'd been hearing good things about her all week. “So when are you coming out with us? You've worked with everyone else around here. I hear you're a whiz with intakes and provisioning. But you ain't seen nothing yet till you come out with Bob, Millie, and me. Or is that a little too real for you?” It was a challenge to her, and he meant it to be. As much as he respected his co-workers, he and the others on the outreach team felt as though theirs was the most important work the Center did. They were at greater risk, and provided more hands-on care in a night than the Center itself did in a week. And he thought Ophélie should see that too.

“I'm not sure how helpful I'd be,” Ophélie said honestly. “I'm pretty cowardly. I hear you guys are the heroes around here. I'd probably be too scared to get out of the van.”

“Yeah, maybe for about five minutes. After that you forget, and you just do what you have to do. You look pretty ballsy to me.” There was a rumor around that she had money, no one knew it for sure, but her shoes looked expensive, her clothes were too neat and clean and fit too well, and her address was in Pacific Heights. But she seemed to work as hard as anyone else, harder according to Louise. “What are you doing tonight?” he pressed her, and she felt both pushed and intrigued. “You gotta date?” he asked fairly bluntly, but as aggressive as he was, she liked him. He was young and clean and strong, and he cared desperately about what he did. Someone had told her he'd nearly been stabbed once on the streets, but he went right back out there the next day. Foolhardy probably, but she thought admirable too. He was willing to risk his life for what he did.

“I don't date,” she said simply. “I have a little girl, I'll be home with her. I promised to take her to a movie.” They had no other plans that weekend, except Pip's first soccer game the next day.

“Take her tomorrow. I want you to come out with us. Millie and I were talking about it last night. You should see it, at least once. You'll never be the same once you do.”

“Particularly if I get hurt,” she said bluntly, “or killed. I'm all my daughter has in the world.”

“That's not good,” he said, frowning. “Sounds like you need a little more in your life, Opie.” He found her name pretty but impossible to pronounce, and had teased her about it when he met her. “Come on, we'll keep an eye on you. How about it?”

“I don't have anyone to leave her with,” Ophélie said thoughtfully, tempted, but scared too. His challenge was difficult to resist.

“At eleven?” He rolled his eyes, and his vast ivory grin lit up the deep brown face. He was a beautiful man, and roughly six feet five. He was the ex–Navy SEAL. He'd been a Navy commando for nine years. “Shit, at her age, I was taking care of all five of my brothers, and haulin' my mama's ass out of jail every week. She was a prostitute.” It sounded stereotypical, but it was real, and what he didn't tell her but she had heard from others was what a remarkable human being he was, and the family of siblings he had raised. One of his brothers had gone to Princeton on a scholarship, another had gotten into Yale. Both were lawyers, his youngest brother was studying to be a doctor, yet another was a lobbyist, speaking out on inner-city violence, and the fifth had four kids of his own and was running for Congress. Jeff was an extraordinary man, and fiercely persuasive. Ophélie was seriously considering going out on the streets with them, although she had sworn she never would. It seemed far too dangerous to her. “Come on, Mama… give us a chance. You ain't never gonna wanna sit behind that desk again, after you been out with us! We're what's happening around here… and why we all do this work. We leave at six-thirty. Be here.” It was more a command than an invitation, and she said she'd see what she could do. She was still thinking about it, half an hour later, when she picked Pip up at school. And she was quiet on the way home.