He breezed by me quickly on his way out. “I’m out for the morning. Hold my calls?”

I nodded, but I sensed that he was in turmoil. Was it stress? That would be a first.

“See you at lunch?” he called over his shoulder. He seemed to be trying to manufacture a smile. I grinned and gave him the thumbs up.

I watched him through the glass plating. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he had something on his conscience.

Once more I had my lunch between taking calls. Since it was a relatively nice day, I figured we’d be going for a walk. Alex walked in just before noon, and I knew immediately that I was looking at a changed man. He winked in the old way, but somehow his face looked gentler. He seemed … I fished for the right word … not tamed … broken? Yes, that was it!

Oh great, something else to keep me wondering! But I resolved to ask him to church as soon as the chance presented itself—I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be rebuffed.

Alex came up to my desk promptly at twelve. “All set?”

For the first time, I could honestly say I liked his smile. There had always been something in his smile that was a little too sharp, more like he was baring his teeth, or maybe flirting—both were one and the same as far as I was concerned. This was a smile and it was meant for me, not to make him look good.

“How are you doing today, Eva?” he asked as he helped me into my coat.

“Fine as frog’s hair,” I told him as we stepped out into the bracing breeze. “But I thought you might not have been this morning.”

“Oh?” his voice was guarded, and he didn’t look at me.

“You seemed troubled,” I told him. “Stressful call?”

“You could say that,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t a business call, but keep that to yourself.” So, he was admitting the truth to me for a change!

“Uh, did it have anything to do with that ‘special someone’ you were telling me about on Friday?” I dared to ask.

“Yes.” He was still looking everywhere but at my face.

“You seem pretty broken up about it,” I observed. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

“Uh, Eva, thanks for being so kind, but you don’t need to feel sorry for me.” He looked me square in the eye now. “I should tell you that things aren’t the way they seem. Don’t give my ‘special someone’ a second thought, ok?”

His gaze was intense, as if he were trying to communicate something between the lines. I was pleasantly taken aback. This was the first time I’d seen him let his guard down to such an extent.

“All right.” I smiled to put him at ease. But it was hard to limit myself to a smile. Truth be told, I want to grin, jump, and holler like a schoolgirl, I was so relieved by what he said.

He grinned back boyishly as if sensing my happiness. “Now, let’s change the subject. I was wondering if you’d tell me how exactly you got to Canada. I don’t believe for a minute you waltzed up across the state line without some sort of rigmarole.”

I laughed and blushed. “You’re right about the rigmarole, but the whole story is kind of mortifying … and long.”

He laughed too. “Sounds like a whopping good story.”

“Oh, it’s a whopper all right!”

“I’d like to hear it,” he coaxed, “unless you’d really rather not.”

“Aw, I don’t mind telling it too much, I guess,” I began. “You know I left home as soon as my eighteenth birthday rolled around. I’d have left sooner, but I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere fast before I was eighteen, so I stuck it out.

“On my birthday, I moved in with a girlfriend from high school. I lived with her for about eight months and worked three different jobs so I could pay her rent and set aside money for my trip to Canada. At last I had enough money to get a bus ticket across the border, and enough to last me while I got on my feet.

“See, my mother was from Canada originally, with family somewhere in northern Alberta. Even though I had no intention of looking up my relatives (just in case they were like my parents), I figured if I told the border guards that I was going to visit family they’d let me into Canada without a lot of fuss. They did, and I thought I was home free. What I didn’t count on was losing every penny of my money before I’d spent a day in the land of my dreams.

“It was my own dumb fault—I still writhe over my stupidity and carelessness. Basically, what happened is that I went into a public washroom, laid my wallet down on the sink counter while I rummaged in my knapsack, and then walked out and left it behind. By the time I’d realized my mistake and retraced my steps that wallet was long gone, which came as no surprise.”

I paused for a bit, reliving the horror of the moment.

“How much did you lose?” Alex asked softly.

“Over three thousand,” I murmured.

“Ouch!” I could hear the sympathy in his voice. “What did you do then?”

“I tramped, there was nothing else to do. Fortunately, I’d crossed the border in the Okanagan Valley, the fruit growing capital of Canada, and fruit season was in full swing. It wasn’t long before somebody hired me to pick cherries. I learned then that there were a lot of folks like me that lived by tramping and picking fruit, so for the rest of the summer I worked my way north through the Valley, until in the fall I wound up in Kelowna—out of a job and without enough money to rent an apartment.

“I was stuck. I didn’t dare go to the authorities for fear of extradition, and I made up my mind I’d rather freeze to death on the streets than be sent back home.”

“Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, huh?” Alex commented.

“You got it. I figured I’d rather face the unknown sea than go back to the devil I knew. For almost the entire winter, I lived rough—slept in back alleys, shelters, hostels, under bridges, you name it.

“I wouldn’t have made it without the mission. There was this soup kitchen that doled out blankets, coats, and lots of soup. If you were really hard up they’d let you spend the night in one of the few rooms in the back of the mission, and then I got to have a shower and get some of the stink off me.” I laughed in embarrassment.

Alex gave me a wondering look. “How did you feel about all that?”

“Very angry, very scared, and hopeless,” I said without hesitation. “I didn’t trust anybody—didn’t dare for fear they’d turn me in.

“But there was one lady at the mission who won my heart. Everyone called her Sister Stowe. She was full of kindness, but tough enough not to let my rudeness and anger scare her off. She was a preacher, and don’t ask me how she did it, but she got me going to church every Sunday. When the service was done, she’d take me to her home for a big dinner. I liked her because she never pried into my past.

“She was the sort that was always talking about Jesus, and she talked about Him in such a way that made you want to know Him for yourself. She was also very peaceful, and before long I found myself wanting what she had.

“One Sunday morning she preached on the subject of life the way it was meant to be lived, and she said the only way to have it was to let go of your own life. Let go of bitterness, let go of your self-will—that means the right to run your own show—and let go of sin. That sermon hit me squarely between the eyes.

“There I was, the most miserable baggage on earth, and I was being offered the thing I longed for the most—peace and joy. I made up my mind that exchanging my bitterness toward my parents, my self-will, and my sin for peace and joy wasn’t a bad deal. What did I have to lose?”

Alex smiled his new smile at this juncture. “No, not a bad exchange at all.”

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with the terminology or not, but I got saved that day. I got to know the Jesus Sister Stowe was always raving about, but I also got a little more than I’d bargained for.

“No sooner had the transaction taken place than I knew I had to confess my illegal immigrant status. I nearly died in the process, but I did eventually get it all out in the open with Sister Stowe, including the reason I left home in the first place.

“To my surprise, she didn’t run to the authorities posthaste. Instead, she contacted a lawyer friend of hers. Between the two of them, they went to bat for me and got the whole tangle straightened out. As it turned out, because my mother was Canadian I was automatically a Canadian citizen, it was just a matter of getting social insurance.”

I rolled my eyes. “Here I’d spent all that time as a vagabond when there was help for me at every government office I’d ever passed.”

“Ouch again!” He sucked in his breath expressively.

“Yeah, I know. At any rate, Sister Stowe’s generosity and kindness didn’t end with me getting a social insurance number, she let me stay at her place while I worked a couple jobs to save up more money. I stayed there about six months, and then I headed over here to Alberta. Jobs were plentiful here, I’d heard—that, and I wanted to experience a white Christmas.

“And here I am!” I finished with a flourish.

“And here you are,” Alex smiled. “Now that’s a story and a half. I’m glad I got it out of you. So how long have you been here exactly?”

“Almost five years.”

“I see.” He paused as if struggling with his emotions. “You know, it’s hard to think of you as angry and bitter.”

“Jesus does a good job,” I said simply. “Now, what about you? I imagine you have quite a story to tell. Emigrating from Portugal must have really been a rigmarole.”

He smiled. “That story will have to wait,” he said, gesturing toward the office door. “Break’s over.”

“Boy, that went fast!” I said. Once more I’d been completely unaware of the passage of time.

But I sensed that Alex was relieved not to have to talk about himself. He might be softened, but his shell hadn’t completely cracked yet.