Cheryl.
“He’s an amazing person,” she says to me. “Never forgets his roots. His donations keep us in business. We’re able to help more people than ever these days.”
I smile. I’m not sure what to say. I like this side of Braden. I really like it.
Braden grabs a shopping cart. “This place means a lot to me. Come on, Skye. I’ll show you the ropes.” He takes the cart to the person at the head of the line. “I’m Braden.” He holds out his hand.
A young woman carrying a toddler places the child in the buggy seat and then shakes Braden’s hand. “Elise.”
“How many people in your household, Elise?” Braden asks.
“Just Benji and me.”
“And how are you today, Benji?” Braden goes to shake the little boy’s hand.
The boy looks away.
“I’m sorry. He’s shy.”
“Not a problem. I was a shy kid myself.”
He was? News to me.
“This is Skye,” he says.
“Hi.” I hold out my hand to Elise. “Nice to meet you.”
Elise shakes my hand weakly. She’s a pretty young woman wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Her son is adorable, his light-brown hair combed just so.
“You’ll need some powdered milk for Benji,” Braden says. “We’ll have fresh milk soon, once the new refrigeration unit is installed. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience. Refrigeration is down during installation.”
The new refrigeration unit is being paid for by Braden, I bet. My heart warms, and a smile splits my face.
“Benji doesn’t like milk,” Elise says. “I wish he’d drink it.”
“Not a problem. We can give you some sugar-free chocolate flavoring to put in the milk. Guaranteed to please.” Braden leads the way down the first aisle.
I follow, walking next to Elise.
What’s her story? I’m curious, but it’s not my business. I’d also like very much to take a photo of her and Benji, but I don’t dare ask for the privilege. Elise didn’t come here to be photographed. She came here to get the help she needs. I’ve never been hungry, something I’ve taken for granted. Gratitude swims through me. I need to remember how lucky I am.
I smile at Benji, and to my surprise, he smiles back. He’s a happy little boy, no different from any other toddler. Does he have a father in the picture?
“What do you like to do, Benji?” I ask.
He looks away then.
“He’s not talking much yet,” Elise says. “Benji, you should speak to the nice lady.”
“Oh, no. That’s okay. He’s a beautiful child.”
“Thank you.” Elise smiles.
Braden pulls items off the pantry shelves and puts them in the cart. Powdered milk, canned fruits and vegetables, sliced bread, peanut butter, and jelly. Pasta and sauce, boxed macaroni and cheese, and some apple juice. Down another aisle he finds cereal, oatmeal, and instant coffee.
“Is Benji potty-trained?” he asks Elise.
“Yes and no. He still wears a diaper at night.”
Braden turns down a new aisle and pulls a pack of toddler-size diapers off the shelf. “Anything else you need from this aisle?”
Elise shakes her head.
“Is there anything special that you’d like today?”
“No, I don’t need anything,” Elise says. “Just the food is fine.”
I get it. Elise is proud. She comes here to feed her son and herself. She doesn’t want to take anything more than necessary.
Braden doesn’t push. He helps Elise bag her groceries, and then he and I pack them in the little red wagon she left outside the pantry.
“Do you live near here?” I ask.
“About twenty blocks away,” she says. “It’s a nice walk.”
“There’s a bus stop right there.” I nod. “Let me give you—”
“No, thank you,” Elise says. “Benji and I enjoy the walk. Thank you very much for the food.”
“You’re very welcome,” Braden says. “You come back anytime.”
Elise smiles and nods and then places Benji in the wagon among the bags of food. She begins the walk home. I watch them for a moment. Benji pulls a loaf of bread out of the bag and squeezes it. I smile. I never could resist squeezing a loaf of fresh bread, either. My mom got used to making sandwiches with misshapen slices.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say.
“No need to thank me.”
I look over my shoulder. Cheryl is leading another woman with a small girl hanging on her hand into the panty. Another volunteer takes a young man from the line.
“Why this place, Braden? You could volunteer anywhere.”
“Because,” he says, “my mother used to bring Ben and me here when we were little to get food.”
My mouth drops open.
“Apparently I’m full of surprises today,” he says.
An image pops into my mind of