The Promise

Sadie was happy to see me the next morning. Maybe I was more reliable than the average homeless person. It was nice to start out the day with her smile.

"You ever going to shave off that fuzz?" Sadie asked. I could see her eyes on my chin. The mirror told me it added a few years to my looks, but I was getting used to it. Amber would have hated it. Strangely, that's why I finally decided not to shave it. It reminded me she was gone, and I didn't want to forget. I was worse off without her and my scraggly beard was proof.

"Someday," I answered with a smile.

"It makes you look old." Sadie turned and started walking toward the kitchen. I followed, liking my beard a little less.

I went to work on last year's financials. It took me all day to audit the financials and reconcile everything to the tax return. I questioned Sadie about a single donation entry marked Charity Ball. She produced a paper ledger with the handwritten names of all the donors and the amounts they gave. The Kitchen put on the ball every February. It was the biggest fundraiser of the year. I tallied the donations and they mirrored the entry. It was a pretty successful event, generating a little over $35,000 in donations.

"I notice you don't take a salary." It struck me as odd. She spent seven days a week here and there was no disbursements to her name. In fact, there was no payroll at all.

"I don't need the money," Sadie said nonchalantly.

"Independently wealthy?" I was grinning.

"I don't know, Frank." Sadie emphasized my phoney name. "Am I?" We were still in the trade story for story mode. I wasn't willing to give up mine and she was stubbornly holding on to hers as leverage.

"I'll just make up a story then," I said, tongue-in-cheek.

"Make it a good one." Sadie laughed and returned to her work. I liked her laugh. She didn't laugh enough. Neither did I.

I found only one entry without supporting documentation. It was for fifteen dollars and was expensed as window cleaning. Hardly material, but I followed up anyway. Sadie had given a young boy the money to clean the windows. He obviously didn't have a business that could generate a receipt. He was homeless with his mother and just wanted to help. Sadie allowed it and paid him out of petty cash. I assured Sadie it wasn't going to be a problem.

I now knew the words to 'Sugar Magnolia' by heart. I really wanted to ask Sadie why she played that song every day. I knew it would cost me my past so I just sat with Houser and tried to quell my interest. It was jello night so Houser passed me his. He didn't say I owed him and didn't draw attention to it in any way. We were like a married couple. We knew what each other liked and just simply traded food. Amber and I used to raid each other's salads at restaurants. I would go for her onions and she for my olives. We would do it in the middle of a conversation, without breaking thought. It was a simple thing and I was fond of the memory.

"You have any family?" I asked. I wondered why I never asked the question before. I was so busy hiding my past, I never thought about his. He simply nodded and went on eating. I could tell he really didn't want to go into it. There was no eye contact, and his gritty smile wasn't evident. I dropped the subject and knew we would be better friends because of it.

I spent the next day on the two-years-back books. There was absolutely nothing wrong with them. I couldn't even find simple addition errors. Sadie was as stringent with her accounting as she was with her kitchen. I pulled the IRS letter out of the desk again and reread it. It used harsher language than I had seen in past audits. Something of the Kitchen's size was usually handled by mail. Here they were demanding an on-site audit with veiled threats hidden inside their demands. The two tax returns I reviewed didn't seem to warrant any kind of review. Nothing in them should have raised any flags. The letter was certainly not indicative of a random audit.

"This audit doesn't feel right," I said as Sadie came in to check my progress. "It almost seems hostile." She hesitated before she responded. Then she sat down.

"I think it is an attack, but I can't be sure." Sadie sighed softly, looking at the letter I placed on the desk. "The city tried to rezone this block for a developer. It would have forced me out so I fought it and won. I don't know how they could have done that." She pointed to the letter. "But I think it might be part of the same thing." She looked up at me. "The IRS doesn't do things like that, do they?"

"No, but people do." My anger was brewing again. Someone was the friend of an IRS field agent. It was the only way the letter made sense. Dismantling Sadie's enterprise would silence her opposition. It was a roundabout, but effective way. I simply wasn't going to allow it to happen.

"We'll just make sure they fail." There was determination in my mind and I wanted Sadie to hear it in my voice. I was surprised when she blushed at my words.

"Thank you, Frank. That makes me feel a lot better." Sadie stumbled the response out with an awkward smile. She hesitantly rose and exited the room. It almost seemed like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it. She was flustered and I wondered what I had said that caused it.

Sadie surprised me the next morning with a cup of coffee and a doughnut. I had never seen her serve any food before four. I had never even seen her eat. I stared at it in shock when she placed in on the desk. She blushed again and left quickly. I didn't even have time to get a 'thank you' out. It was completely unlike her.

I spent the morning, warmed by coffee, traversing the first year the IRS was interested in. They were as immaculate as the other two. I was determined to leave no stone unturned, so I went through the Charity Ball ledger as I had the other two years.

I was absently totaling the donations when my eyes were attracted to the name column. A sense of familiarity pulled my eyes. 'Amber and David Thaxton' was handwritten next to a donation of fifty dollars. My eyes welled up as I ran my fingers across the names. Amber was always giving small sums to one organization or another. My name must have come from the check. The irony of it all hit hard. I felt tears running down my cheeks and I squeezed my eyes to get them to stop. They didn't, so I let it go. I saw her perfectly again, my mind had rebuilt the image. With it, the pain came slamming back. I buckled under the pressure and the floodgates opened. God, I loved that woman.

Sadie picked that time to check on my progress. Fooling no one, I turned away and quickly wiped my eyes. I stumbled out of the office mentioning the need to use the restroom. The tears kept coming as I hurried past Kevin who was busy peeling potatoes. I spent fifteen minutes, sitting on the toilet, slowing my heart. I rinsed my face, trying to dull the redness around my eyes.

Sadie was sitting at the desk when I returned. "Close the door," she said, and motioned me to the seat on the other side.

"My husband died nine years ago." Sadie was looking directly at me. "The kitchen was Richard's creation, the only thing he had done right, he told me. I promised him I would keep it running. I don't think he envisioned me running it personally, but here I am." She looked down at the desk. "The whole world thinks you're dead." My mind was reeling. She made sense now, her running this place fit. Her telling me about it meant she knew something of me.

"Most of the world doesn't know I exist," I countered. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be angry. I just didn't want more memories. I was having trouble not remembering on my own.

"I'm pretty good with faces, it was your beard and name that through me off." Sadie tapped the ledger with Amber's and my names. "You just looked the same way I felt when Richard died, David." I excused myself again. Having Sadie know was just as bad as seeing Amber's name in the ledger. I was dousing my face in cold water when I began to wonder how she knew my face. She wasn't guessing, she knew. I don't remember ever meeting her prior to a few days ago. Maybe she knew Amber, that would explain the donation. I settled my emotions and returned for the second time.

"You knew Amber?" I asked, choking on her name.

"Close the door," Sadie responded while shaking her head no. "I know of her. The whole world knows her." I sat down confused. "I'm sorry, seeing the name in the ledger must have hurt." I closed my eyes and nodded. I really didn't want to start crying again. I wasn't confident my voice wouldn't crack.

"You can hide here for as long as you need," Sadie offered.

"The police looking for me or something?" I asked with quite a bit of confusion.

"Not any more. They think you're dead." I shook my head, trying to wrap my thoughts around what Sadie was saying. Amber's image kept flashing in my mind. I had an estranged sister, it would have taken her twenty years to report me missing. I had quit my job, they wouldn't have cared enough to check up on me. I guess maybe a friend, but I hadn't been gone long enough for them to worry enough to call the police.

"Why would they think that?"

"You don't know?" Sadie seemed surprised.

"Know what?" Sadie went to work on the computer as I looked on. A few moments later she turned the monitor towards me. My picture was on the screen under the headline, 'Promise Keeper Believed Dead.' The banner across the top was the daily paper's logo. It was a picture of me, on stage, with my hand held out before me.

"Your song 'Amber' went viral." Sadie said softly.

"It was just a prelim. It wasn't supposed to be broadcast," I said as I leaned into the computer screen to read the article text. The text mentioned finding my wallet in the east river. The fact that it contained money, indicated I wasn't robbed. Their assumptions were correct, the end result was not.

"How did your wallet end up in the river?" Sadie asked softly. I could see the concern in her eyes.

"Houser fished me out of the river," I answered. I wasn't ready to say the truth out loud and probably never would. I skipped over it and then added a weak justification, "It wasn't a good time for me."

"And now?"

"Time to think," I answered, "I just need time to think." Sadie looked like she might have misunderstood so I added, "No more bridges in my future." She smiled.

"Take all the time you need, Frank." I smiled at her use of 'Frank.'

"I'll figure things out as soon as we get through this IRS audit," I said as I continued perusing the article. Sadie got flustered again and fumbled her way off her seat. I had no idea what was causing it. I pretended to ignore it for her sake, and mine.

"I'm sorry about Amber," Sadie whispered before she opened the door.

"I'm sorry about Richard." We shared forced smiles. At least we understood each other that far.

Embarrassment was my main emotion as I surfed the web for the first time in a week. My fame was fading, as all digital fads do, but I had shined brightly for a few days. I couldn't watch the video, not out of shame, but out of fear of the pain returning. Amber had always said I had a lovely voice, I had just assumed she was biased. I sang for her because she got a kick out of it. For us, it was like foreplay. I never had a desire to share it with the world. I made up songs for her and her alone. The words were sometimes silly and sometimes drivel from my heart. Loud pillow talk and nothing more. Now the world knew because of a dying promise I could not deny. I loved her too much for that.

The blogs were the worst. Half had me as an insane idiot and the others thought me some kind of love god. Offers of marriage and psychiatric help were abundant. It was just a promise, it wasn't meant to go this far. I was going to have to hide for a while. The story would die a quick death as all things internet-related do. Amber would have gotten a kick out of the whole thing, but then I would have had her at my side. I could have weathered any storm with her there.

I went back to work and finished the last tax year. Like the rest, no errors. That, in and of itself, was amazing. Books this clean were usually done by professionals. The IRS can dig as deep as they desired, there was nothing to find. Sadie was pleased to hear my summary. I could still see a little fear behind her eyes, but the IRS had a tendency to do that.

"Do you remember Amber?" I asked pointing at the charity ball ledger.

"Sorry, there are lots of attendees and most of them bring checks from their friends." Sadie's eyes went sad. "I'm sure she was lovely, I can see her in you." I could only nod at that. Amber was certainly lovely.

Houser joined me for dinner once again. It was brownie night so he was an absolute pleasure to be around. I moved my brownie to his tray and he just nodded and kept telling me about his day. There was an accident on the bridge that screwed up his time keeping, but, other than that, it was the same day as always.

Maggie sat down next to me, her face all crinkly with her smile. I guessed I had become a regular and was considered safe. Houser placed my brownie on her tray. I gave him a confused look. I had never seen him give up a brownie. I thought maybe he was sweet on Maggie.

"Maggie got me new boots," Houser said, nearly bringing his leg and a construction boot up on the table.

"Nicely done, Maggie," I said as I admired the nearly new treads on the sole.

"Figured someone wanted 'em, don't fit me." Maggie was speaking with a mouth full of meatloaf. The boots did look warm and I knew Houser saw the value. It was strange how my priorities were changing. A month ago, I would have just run out and bought a pair if I wanted boots. Now, I was slightly envious. Sadie snuck up on us again. This time it wasn't to speak to Houser.

"Thank you for all your work, Frank" Sadie put a glass of jello on my tray. It had three layers, red, green and yellow. The layers were slanted, obviously she had spent some time putting it together. I had a strong feeling of déjà vu and Amber, sending a shudder down my back. I just stared at the glass, not knowing what to say.

"I thought you liked jello," Sadie said with pain in her voice. She started to reach out to take it back. She couldn't have known. I reached it before she did and pulled it close and forced a smile.

"It's perfect. It was just unexpected." I looked back at the glass, tilting it to examine the layers. "It's actually quite beautiful. Thank you." I glanced back at her. She was wearing a grin that spanned the whole room. She turned and went back to her duties on the line, her blue flowered skirt floating across the floor as she moved. Maggie giggled and shared a stupid look with Houser.

"It's just a thank you," I said, exasperated. Maggie went back to eating. Houser just smiled at me. I spent a good five minutes examining the jello. Fond memories of Amber washed through me. I remember coming home from work with an arm full of flowers, we had fought that morning over something stupid. Amber had found letter molds and spelled out 'I AM SORRY' in different colors of jello on the kitchen table. We were like that, never seeking blame in the end, just sharing forgiveness. Amber was just unique about it.

I refused to be in a mournful mood with a glass full of jello. I smiled at my memories and destroyed the jello's symmetry with a spoon. It was well chilled and tasted wonderful. The irony of the day was not lost on me, finding Amber's name in the journal and the three-layered jello. There was pain, but there were also good memories. I decided to concentrate on the memories that shown brightest. The pain would have to take a backseat.

"Thanks for the jello." Sadie was busy watching the hall as I spoke. She turned to me with an honest smile. She really needed to smile more and so did I.

"Your time is done here," Sadie said cheerfully, "what will you do with your day?" I looked around the room and felt a kind of affinity towards the place. I hadn't been here long, but I was comfortable here, for now.

"The work here is kind of therapeutic. I wouldn't mind staying on if you can use me." Sadie looked at me with curiosity. I could almost see her thinking. It wasn't the reaction I expected.

"Prep or the line?" Sadie asked when her mind was made up.

"The line. Might as well learn it all," I said honestly. Sadie laughed before she spoke.

"1:00, you'll just love the clean up." Sadie had a mischievous grin on her face. I had seen it on another woman before. I smiled graciously, somewhat wishing I would have said prep.

Clean up was a bitch. Sadie was adamant about sanitation. Nothing was clean until she inspected it and it usually didn't pass on the first inspection. Luckily, there were four of us slaves so the work wasn't totally oppressing. I washed hundreds of dishes, pots and pans, a lot of them more than once. The floor was done twice. Sadie would find the grime in places Sherlock Holmes would have missed. She seemed to relish finding issues when I thought I was done. I think she took my volunteerism as a challenge. I sucked it up and by the time we were done, I would have confidently eaten off the floor.

I spent the next four weeks learning the hard part of running a soup kitchen. Sadie began to trust me to manage the deliveries. She was hesitant at first and I don't believe she had ever allowed anyone else to do it in the past. The first time she watched me like a hawk. It was simple inventory control to me, but to her it was like lopping off an arm. Reluctantly, she began to trust I wasn't going to screw it all up.

We would receive both ordered goods and donated goods. The donated had a very short shelf life, the reason the grocery store donated them in the first place. It was priority that these short-lived items found a place on the next day's menu and everything was visibly marked so nothing expired would ever find its way onto a plate.

I watched Sadie develop menus. This was something she would never relinquish control over. It was as much art as science. The expiration dates drove some of it and experience drove the rest. She worked up to five days in advance, solidifying a day's menu as it drew near. It was not something you could easily automate. There were food clashes that needed to be avoided and last minute donations that needed to be squeezed in. She allowed me to watch, but laughed when I offered to help. This menu was her domain and it would take an army to drag it away.

The army arrived a week later in the form of microscopic soldiers. I walked into work to find Sadie, pale and sweating, slumped on stool trying to work on the menus. Her eyes were bloodshot and I could tell she hadn't slept the night before. She looked absolutely miserable.

"Go home," I said compassionately.

"Can't, too much to do." Sadie covered her mouth with her hand when she spoke. Her voice was raspy like something was stuck in her throat.

"Give me the keys," I said forcibly, "and go home. You're going to get everyone sick." I think it was the thought of contamination that finally convinced her. Reluctantly, she handed me the keys.

"I promised Richard," Sadie said softly while looking around. It was important to her that I understood why she was here, as sick as she was. I understood, maybe the only one who could.

"I will make sure the promise is kept." I said it with conviction because I meant it. When Sadie's hesitant red eyes meet mine, I added, "I promise." Her eyes sparkled for a moment as she held my gaze.

"Thank you." Sadie moved off hesitantly.

I ran the City Kitchen for the next three days. I had to send Sadie home every morning those three days. I made it easy for her to leave, everything was in perfect shape and I was the picture of confidence. It couldn't have been farther from the truth. I had no idea how Sadie did it seven days a week. I felt like I was being pulled in ten directions at once. Workers didn't show, deliveries were late, menus didn't fit supplies and clean up ran later than it should. I screwed up the prep list on the first day sending the next two days' menus into turmoil. The days were long and grueling. Sadie had made it look so easy. With the help of some of the more experienced volunteers, we were able to pull it together at the last minute. 'Sugar Magnolia' always played at 4:00 and people were fed. I was a stressed mess.