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feeling empty. Not so with Howard. Despite his odd mood, he’s companionable.
    All too soon the food is gone. “I’m going to have a shower,” he says as he stands. “Mum should be out in a second. She will show you where you can sleep.”
    He walks away, and I can’t help but watch the flex of muscles as he does. My gaze lingers until he is out of sight.
    As promised, Rhonda reappears moments later. “Food to your liking?”
    “Yes, it was delicious. The cooks at MITI could learn a thing or two from you. I don’t think I’ve ever had such yummy chicken.”
    “Well, thank you. Good to know those skills my mum forced me to learn haven’t gone to waste. You ready for bed?”
    I nod.
    “Come on then, let’s get you settled.”
    She leads me down the hall to the room I woke up in earlier. “This is Claire’s room, but she’s bunking with Margie tonight, so you shouldn’t have any interruptions.” She points down the hall. “That door at the end of the hallway is the bathroom and toilet. Make sure you use the lock, otherwise one of the little ones might barge in on you.”
    “Okay.”
    “There’s a nightie on the bed for you if you’d prefer to sleep in something more comfortable, and I grabbed your other clothes. They’ll be washed and mended by the morning.”
    “Thanks.”
    Rhonda walks down the hall and disappears around the corner, leaving me alone in a dimly lit hallway. I go to the room and shut the door behind me. The nightie Rhonda told me about is on the end of the bed. It’s pretty, but I’d feel too exposed wearing it. I fold it carefully and place it on the chair in the corner.
    A yawn creeps up my throat, and I’m suddenly exhausted. The temptation to curl up and go to sleep is strong, but my body is telling me I need a trip to the bathroom first.
    I head down the hall to the door at the end. It’s ajar, so I push the door open—and freeze. The bathroom is not empty.
    Howard stands at the sink, naked from the waist up, brushing his teeth. Without clothing, his shoulders look twice as wide as before, and every curve and dip in his muscles is clearly visible. Down the middle of his back is what looks like a big, black T. I have this crazy inclination to trace it to see how it feels.
    Howard clears his throat, and my gaze shoots up to find him watching me in the mirror. “Do you mind?”
    He winks at me.
    Oh crap!
    “Sorry.” I pull the door shut. I’m mortified to have been caught staring. The butterflies in my stomach are stronger than ever, and my cheeks heat. I fan my face with my hands in an attempt to calm myself.
    Before I can get everything under control, the door opens and a still-shirtless Howard walks out.
    “All yours.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    I mentally slap myself for such an inept reply, but the view of him from the front is even better than the back. He has one of those washboard stomachs I’ve heard Gail talk about. I never understood what she meant, but now I can see how apt the description is. Once again, I find myself unable to stop staring.
    “Good night, Bethanie,” Howard says, strolling down the hallway.
    “Howard? What’s the T on your back?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
    He stops and half turns towards me. “It’s a tattoo, and it isn’t a T, it’s a crucifix.”
    “A crucifix?”
    “Yeah, it’s the cross Christ was nailed to. It is a symbol of the weight I bear in the name of justice.”
    “Huh. I’m sorry, I don’t really understand what you’re talking about. It’s nice, though.”
    “Thanks,” he says, “but I better go to bed if I’m going to be up early to take you to the post office.”
    “Night,” I call after him.
    “Sweet dreams,” he calls back.
    I smile. They might just be.
    ***
    “Everyone getting ready for school?” I ask when I find only Rhonda about in the kitchen.
    “Ah, no. The kids are all doing their morning chores. Their lessons start in about half an hour.”
    “Lessons? Do they not go to school?”