“Thanks, Opie,” Bob said kindly as he turned off the ignition. “You did a great job.” He truly meant it. She had.

“Thank you,” she said, with a smile. From him, it was high praise. She liked him even better than Jeff. Bob was quiet and hardworking and kind to the people they dealt with, and respectful to her. She had learned in the hours they'd spent together that his wife had died of cancer four years before. He was bringing up three children on his own, with his sister's help. And working at night allowed him to be with his kids during the day. The risks didn't seem to faze him, they had been worse as a cop. He had a pension from the force, so he could afford the low pay he made at Wexler. More than anything, he loved the job. And he was less of a cowboy than Jeff. He had been incredibly nice to her all night, and she was dismayed to discover that they had devoured nearly an entire box of doughnuts together. She wondered if the stress had made her hungry, or maybe just the work. Whatever, it had been one of the most remarkable and meaningful nights of her life. And she knew that in those magical hours between seven P.M. and three A.M., she and Bob had become friends. And when she thanked him, it was heartfelt.

“See you on Monday?” Jeff asked her, looking her straight in the eye, as they stood in the garage. He was as bold as ever, and Ophélie looked surprised.

“You want me to come again?”

“We want you on the team.” He had decided halfway through the night, based on what he'd observed and Bob had said about her.

“I have to give it some thought,” she said carefully, but was flattered anyway. “I couldn't come every night.” And shouldn't at all. It wasn't fair to Pip. But all those people, all those faces, those lost souls sleeping near railroad tracks and under underpasses and on loading docks. It was as though she heard a call, and knew it was what she was meant to do, no matter how great the risk. “I couldn't do it more than twice a week. I've got a little girl.”

“If you were dating, you'd be out more than that, and you said you're not.” He had a point. Jeff didn't pull any punches, nor hold back.

“Can I think about it?” She felt pressed, but that was what he wanted. He wanted her on the team, in no uncertain terms.

“Do you need to? Really? I think you know what you want.” She did. But she didn't want to do anything hasty or foolish, out of the emotions of the night. And emotions had run high, particularly for her, because it was all new to her. “Come on, Opie. Give it up. We need you…so do they …” His eyes pleaded with her.

“Okay,” she said breathlessly.… “Okay. Twice a week.” It meant she would be working Tuesday and Thursday nights instead of Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

“You got it,” he said, beaming at her, and slapped her a high-five as she laughed.

“You're a hard man to resist.”

“Damn right,” he said, “and don't you forget it. Good work, Opie… see you Tuesday night!” He waved and was gone. Millie got into a car parked next to the garage, and Bob walked her to her car and she thanked him again.

“Anytime you want to quit,” he said gently, “you can. You're not signing in blood here,” he reminded her, which made it a little less scary for her. She had just made a hell of a commitment, and she couldn't even imagine what people would say if she told them. She wasn't sure she would. For now.

“Thanks for the out.”

“Anything you do, for however long you do it, is valid and appreciated. We all do it for as long as we can. And when we can't, then that's okay too. Take it easy, Opie,” he said, as she got into her car. “See you next week.”

“Goodnight, Bob,” she said gently, finally starting to feel tired. She was coming down from the high of the night, and wondered how she'd feel about it in the morning. “Thanks again…”

He waved, put his head down, and walked down the street to his truck. And as he did, she realized with a feeling of elation that she was one of them now. She was a cowboy. Just like them. Wow!





17

WHEN OPHÉLIE WENT BACK TO HER HOUSE LATE THAT night, she looked around as though seeing it for the first time. The luxury, the comforts, the colors, the warmth, the food in the refrigerator, her bathtub, and the hot water as she got in it. It all seemed infinitely precious suddenly, as she lay there soaking for nearly an hour, thinking back on what she'd seen, what she had done, what she had just committed to. She had never felt so fortunate in her life, or so unafraid. In confronting what she had feared most, her own mortality on the streets, other things no longer seemed as menacing anymore. Like the ghosts in her head, her guilt over urging Chad to go with Ted, and even her seemingly bottomless grief. If she could confront the dangers on the street, and survive them, the rest seemed so much easier to deal with. And as she got into bed next to Pip, who had opted to sleep in her mother's bed again that night, she had never in her life been as grateful for her child, and the life they shared. She went to sleep with her arms around her daughter, giving silent thanks, and woke with a start when she heard the alarm. For a minute, she couldn't even remember where she was. She had been dreaming of the streets and the people she'd seen there. She knew she'd remember those faces for the rest of her life.

“What time is it?” she asked, turning off the alarm and dropping her head back on her pillow next to Pip's.

“Eight o'clock. I have a game at nine, Mom.”

“Oh… okay …” It reminded her that she still had a life. With Pip. And that maybe what she had done the night before was more than a little crazy. What would happen to Pip if she got hurt? Yet it no longer seemed as likely. The team seemed very efficient, and as best they could, they took no obvious risks. The risks were inherent on the streets, but they were sensible people who knew what they were doing. But it was still more than a little scary anyway. She had a responsibility to Pip, which she was deeply sensitive to.

She was still thinking about it when she got up and dressed, and went downstairs to make breakfast for Pip.

“How was last night, Mom? What did you do?”

“Some pretty interesting stuff. I worked with the outreach team on the streets.” She told Pip a modified version of what she'd done.

“Is it dangerous?” Pip looked concerned, and then finished her orange juice, and dug into her scrambled eggs.

“To some extent.” Ophélie didn't want to lie to her. “But the people who do it are very careful, and they know what they're doing. I didn't see anyone dangerous out there last night. But things do happen on the street.” She couldn't deny the risk to her.

“Are you going to do it again?” Pip looked concerned.

“I'd like to. What do you think?”

“Did you like doing it?” she asked sensibly.

“Yes, a lot. I loved it. Those people need so much help.”

“Then do it, Mom. Just be careful. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Neither do I. Maybe I'll just try it a couple more times, and see how it feels. If it looks too risky after a few times, I'll stop.”

“That sounds good. And by the way,” she said over her shoulder as she headed upstairs to get her cleats, “I told Matt he could come to the game if he wanted to. He said he wanted to come.”

“It's pretty early. He might not make it.” Ophélie didn't want her to be disappointed, and she didn't know how serious Matt's offer was. “I told Andrea she could come too. You have a whole cheering team.”

“I hope I play okay,” she said, putting on a sweatshirt. She was ready to roll. And Ophélie let Mousse get into the backseat. Within minutes, they were headed for the polo field in Golden Gate Park, where they played. It was still foggy, but looked like it would be a nice day eventually. As they drove along, and Pip put the radio on, a little too loudly, Ophélie found herself thinking again of what she'd seen the night before, the poor people living in camps, and boxes, sleeping on concrete with rags over them. In the clear light of day, it seemed even more incredible than it had the night before. But she was glad now that she had agreed to go again, and be part of the team. It was a powerful pull she felt. And she could hardly wait to be out there again. She smiled to herself as she thought of it, and as they got out of the car at the polo field, she was surprised to see Matt. Pip gave a whoop of glee and threw her arms around him. He was wearing a heavy sheepskin jacket that looked like it had been through the wars, running shoes, and jeans, and he looked suitably rugged and fatherly, as Pip ran off to the field.

“You really are a faithful friend. You must have left the beach at the crack of dawn,” Ophélie said with a grateful smile.

“No, just around eight. I thought it would be fun.” He didn't tell her that he had gone to every one of Robert's games before the divorce, and many in Auckland after that. Robert had learned to play rugby there too.

“She was hoping you'd come. Thank you for not disappointing her.” Ophélie meant it. He had never disappointed Pip once since they'd met, nor her. He was the one person they both knew they could rely on.

“I wouldn't miss it for the world. I used to coach.”

“Don't tell her. She'll sign you up for the team.” They both laughed, and stood for ages watching the game. Pip was playing well and had scored a goal, when Andrea arrived with the baby in a stroller in a little down bag to keep him warm. Ophélie introduced her to Matt, and they stood chatting for a while. She tried not to feel the vibes of Andrea's questions and opinions and assumptions directed at her when she saw Matt. Ophélie looked artfully unruffled, and after the baby had cried for half an hour because he wanted to be fed, Andrea left. But Ophélie felt certain that she would hear from her later on. She could count on it. And she ignored all of Andrea's meaningful looks when she left, and continued chatting with Matt.