Nevertheless, Kathleen agreed to meet me after work at the burn center, where she volunteered two hours of her time every Tuesday. She escorted me through the lobby door and down a long hallway.
“What made you decide to work with burn victims?” I said.
“After my divorce, all I wanted was to get out of Charleston and make new friends, so I moved here and got a job. But I didn’t know anyone. Then one day my company offered tickets for a charity event, and I took one just to have someplace to go, thinking maybe I’d meet someone.”
“And?”
“And here you are!” She burst out laughing. “Well, you’re a liar, of course, but at least you’re good-looking. And everything about you screams ‘single guy!’”
We turned left and headed down another hallway. Several corridors ran off that one, and I tried to keep up with the route we’d taken in case I had to navigate back on my own. Doctors and nurses came and went, walking with purpose. A short, pudgy nurse in a light blue lab coat winked at Kathleen and made kissing sounds as she passed. We walked a few steps, and I cocked my head and said, “I bet there’s a story there!”
“Oh, hush, you!” she said.
I raised my eyebrows, and she started giggling.
“Don’t even,” she said.
I didn’t. “What makes you think I’m single?” I asked.
She laughed. “Oh, please!”
We passed a window. The sky was darkening outside, and the gusting wind made a light buzzing sound as it attacked the weaker portions of the window frame. Kathleen had entered the hospital wearing a heavy cloth overcoat that she now removed and hung on a wooden peg by the outer ward doors. She pushed a silver circle on the wall and the doors flew open.
“I didn’t meet anyone special at the fundraiser,” she said, “but I was touched by the video presentation. That night, I read the brochure from cover to cover and got hooked.”
“So you just showed up and they put you to work?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Until that point, my life had been in a downward spiral. I’d felt sorry for myself, victimized, after the whole Ken thing. Then I met the burn kids and I was humbled by their optimism and their passion to survive.”
“Sounds like you found a home.”
She smiled. “Yes, that’s it exactly. I made an instant decision that changed my life.”
“And now you come here every Tuesday?”
“Yup. Every Tuesday after work for two hours.”
Kathleen picked up a clipboard. While she studied it, I took the opportunity to study her face and figure. I had come here expecting to fi nd a timid, broken woman, but Kathleen’s divorce obviously agreed with her. She was attractive, with large eyes and honeycolored hair that stopped an inch above her shoulders. I took her for a natural blond because she wore her hair parted in the middle and I couldn’t detect any dark roots. High on her forehead, just beneath her hairline, I could make out a light dusting of freckles. She had a few more freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose as well. Her body was gym tight, and she had a friendly, easygoing manner that revealed nothing of the difficult past I had witnessed in the police photos. Her voice was unique. You could get caught up in it, especially when she spoke about her volunteer work. We were about to enter the burn center treatment area, and despite my concerns about what might lie beyond the next set of doors, I found myself hanging on her every word.
