"How does somebody get involved with Arc?" Brock asked, as they waited for a long stream of printouts to finish. "It sounds like you get recruited instead of applying."
"Basically." Nikki smiled, remembering her surprise when Joan suggested she come to live at Quarry Hall and work for the foundation.
"Do they recruit everybody they rescue?"
"Not all the time, but it seems..." She remembered the stories of some of her adopted sisters, the trouble they had been in, the danger they had escaped. How some had decided to dedicate their lives to serving God and others, and the foundation had found them. How others had come to Arc for help and new lives, and had been asked to join. "It seems like one way or another, you have to come through the fire. There are people at all levels, working for them. The people who take care of the little details and run rescue missions, the administrators who are there for phone calls in the middle of the night, the people who run legal clinics like Xander Finley."
"And then there are the ones who live on the road, like you," Claire said. "How do you get that job? I don't know if I envy you or feel sorry for you."
"Me, neither." Nikki could feel Brock watching her, intense, as if he held his breath, waiting for her answer. "Those of us who travel are Arc's eyes and ears. We seem to find problems to solve no matter where we go. But I've only had a few assignments, and most of them were working as courier. This is my first big, post-graduation assignment, I guess you could say."
"Could you use somebody who knows money?" Brock offered. His voice sounded almost casual. Almost. His smile went flat, and he didn't meet her gaze but busied himself with papers that didn't need straightening. "I mean, if I could find a dozen ways a month for Ringo to hide his profits legally, I can unearth the same tricks other people are using. I know how to raise funds, how to direct money where it will work the best, make the most impact. You see a lot of that, even doing the things I was doing."
"I'll ask. We always have more needs than workers and resources." She caught her breath at the sudden flash of relief -- maybe hope? -- in Brock's eyes. Had he been afraid she would refuse? Maybe he thought he didn't qualify?
If anyone qualified, Nikki thought Brock had. He had gone through his own fire, hadn't he? Prison had taught him things he needed to learn about himself. He had put his life on the line to protect her from Ringo, hadn't he? He was involved in a Bible study here in Tabor, making friends, getting settled, trying to make something worthwhile out of his life. Even if it was to prove to her that he was truly changed, it counted, didn't it? His losses had been a refining fire. Just like her pain and shame and losses in the last few years.