Page 23 of Between Two Shores

Beth spotted their most dedicated volunteer. “Hello, Mrs. Morrison. Those colors look great on you. I like your necklace. Nice match.” Beth shook the older woman’s frail hand. White pigeon wings fluffed at her temples, softening her crowning tight perm.

“And you look lovely too, dear. It’s nice to see a young woman still wearing dresses these days. A rare sight, indeed.” Her pink, painted lips lifted in a smile.

“Thank you.” Beth rubbed her shoulder. Such a sweet old lady.

Nigel and Issy rocked up next, holding hands as newlyweds. Isabel’s face glowed. Was she pregnant already? She said at thirty-six, she didn’t want to wait long.

“Hey, you two.” Beth shook Nigel’s hand and gave Issy a gentle hug.

A moment later, in came three newcomers. All of the men had the same haircut, short back and sides, one-inch wedge at the front. Sailors. Uh. What were they doing here? They thought they could get a free breakfast?

Beth pasted on a smile, cringing on the inside. She shouldn’t be quick to judge. They might have heard of the community service project and wanted to learn how the Aussies did it. They weren’t here to pick up women. The pubs would be better for that.

The first man nodded and shook her hand in both of his palms. “Good morning, ma’am.” He had a strong American accent, and although they weren’t in uniform, she had no doubt they were from the USS Independence II.

“Welcome.”

The second sailor, likely in his early twenties, flashed straight teeth and bounced on his toes.

“G’day, sheila,” he winked.

Beth’s eyes widened, and she nearly choked. Seriously? Who was this idiot? “Hi.”

He laughed. “Just wanted to say that, pretend I’m one of the locals. Sorry, ma’am.”

“We don’t talk like that in the cities. Maybe some do in the outback, but not here.”

His face turned pink.

Lastly, a tall man with a medium build, perhaps a little older than her, stepped up next. “Good morning, ma’am. Don’t mind him, it’s his first time out of the States.” He took Beth’s hand and shook it slowly. “I’m Nick. We hope you don’t mind us having a look around at what you do. We’ve heard good things about Habor of Hope.” His smile seemed genuine.

“You’re welcome. There’s a small office in the back foyer. You won’t be able to have the breakfast, of course, but there’s a barista machine and I’m sure there’s some muffins in the fridge.”

“Sounds great. Thank you.” He squeezed her hand and made his way to the other side of the hall.

Beth continued to greet the homeless and direct them to seats, but her mind kept drifting to the sailors. She would avoid the foyer if she could. Dad could do the socializing today. She’d find some excuse to keep busy or get Mrs. Morrison talking.

After breakfast was served, Beth managed to float around the hall, chatting with the people she’d known for months now and a few for years. She kept herself from Dad’s line of sight to avoid having to entertain the sailors. She shivered.

With car keys in her hand, she lingered about the front foyer, packing away the brochures promoting upcoming fundraisers or support groups.

“There you are.” Dad strode over.

She feigned a smile. “Dad.”

“The Americans are coming to my place for brunch. Can you grab four barbeque chickens and roast meals from Chicken Treat on the way over? Salad bowls too. They probably eat a lot.”

“Really? I wanted to have the afternoon to relax. Can you order home delivery?”

Dad’s brows furrowed. “Bethany Michaels, you’re 2IC. These guys might make a big donation. They’d be loaded with cash and can’t spend it on the seas.”

“They’d be better off sightseeing in Fremantle. Did you invite them over? They may feel obliged.”

Dad adjusted his posture. “The one called Nick suggested lunch. He wants to know more about what we do.”

“Okay. But I’ll leave straight after that.” Beth switched off the photocopier behind her and collected her phone. “Who else is coming?”

“I’ve had little time to organize anything, so it’s just the five of us.”

---