Читать книгу Her Kind Of Hero - Janice Carter - Страница 15

CHAPTER THREE

MATT WAS GETTING into his car when Rosie called out, “You forgot your stew!”

He’d forgotten on purpose, knowing he still had a container of pasta in the fridge from three days ago. He’d given up trying to get Esperanza to stop sending food home with him. He knew it was an act of love—and also that she still thought of him as the struggling college student, as he’d been after his discharge from the army.

“You can’t fool me as easily as you can Ma,” she said when he joined her on the porch and took the Tupperware from her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, right.” She playfully punched his upper arm. As he turned to go, she added, “I noticed at dinner that you seemed distracted. Have you been thinking about her?”

“Her?”

“Mom. Who did you think I was talking about?”

Matt was tempted to say Dana Sothern, the woman who had been in his head for the past week. But he’d never told anyone about that day, not even his family. At the time, it would have involved unwanted questioning. What were you doing there, on the Green Line? Why weren’t you at your after-school job? Later, the day simply became something he wanted to put behind him.

“Mom, of course. When’s her next appointment with the oncologist again?”

“Next Monday.”

A week away. “I’ll come, too.”

“She doesn’t expect you to. She knows you’re busy organizing the first group of kids for the camp this weekend.”

“I’m coming.” Matt knew she wouldn’t argue too much. She was aware that her big brother never changed his mind once it was made up.

“Okay,” she finally said. “See you maybe later in the week. If not, for sure next Monday.” Then she clutched his arm as he started to go. “Matt, I meant it when I said I’d like to do a few sessions with the kids. I’ve been working on an idea and I can email you an outline.”

At dinner, Rosie had pitched an introduction on internet use and privacy issues as a lead-in, followed by lessons on game development.

Rosie had been working at a video game start-up for the past three years, since her college graduation. She was good at game development and getting better. She and her team had recently secured a publisher for a game they’d developed that was promising to be a hit. But getting her back and forth to Camp Hope would be problematic if she had a relapse.

“Just think about it, Matt. Please. I’m in remission now and I feel good.”

He felt bad at her pleading tone and softened his voice. “I’ll think about it. Maybe we can try having a class at the center first. See what the interest is and how it goes.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Sure,” she mumbled.

He knew she was disappointed. Rosie had been excited about Camp Hope from the beginning and wanted to be a part of it. “We’ll work something out.”

He kissed her cheek and headed for his car. By the time he was behind the wheel, she’d already gone back inside. He let the car idle for a while, thinking about the opening of Camp Hope the coming Saturday, Rosie’s plea to help out and most of all, his mother’s next appointment, when her doctor would outline a treatment plan. Little wonder he’d hardly slept the past week. Worse, Dana Sothern’s face kept popping into his head at random moments. He had serious problems to worry about, so why was he so preoccupied with a woman he’d likely never see again?

Thoughts of Dana reminded him of her check. It would cover some of the shortfall and if she could casually dash off an amount like that, she clearly had means. Of course, there was his challenge to her—one he regretted now. He’d made it out of pride, resenting her self-satisfied expression when she’d passed the donation across his desk. He should have just taken that money. Now he would have to swallow some of that pride and deposit that check.

He shifted into gear and headed home. His apartment was a few blocks away from the center. He’d taken the rental months after opening KidsFirst, figuring he ought to live in the same area as the kids he served. The move had been a return to his old stomping grounds on the South Side where his family had lived until he was ten. Matt knew now that his parents had been worried about negative influences in the neighborhood, so he had found an apartment in Pilsen, which had been gentrifying. But Matt and his buddies from the South Side had stayed friends—the good ones, like Sandro, and the not so good, like Lenny.

Matt tucked the ugly memory away. The elevator was out of order again and he was grateful for the walk up to the sixth floor after the big meal at his mother’s. He stowed the stew next to the pasta and checked his voice mail. His mother had set ground rules about cell phone use at meals long ago, but he’d automatically reached for it enough times during supper to draw snorted laughter from Rosie and frowns from Esperanza.

First, there was Sandro, confirming the delivery of the bunk beds and linens the next day. I’ll meet you at the camp at about ten. Got an appointment in the city. But the delivery guys will move the stuff into the cabins, so you won’t have to bother about that. Oh, and the window people are coming back day after tomorrow to fix the screens in the old cabin. They’re coming in the morning and I can be there, but you have a meeting in the afternoon with the kitchen staff. The cook’s got her menus all worked out.

Matt saved the message, knowing he’d have to replay it later for his notes.

Kristen was next, telling him the center’s new youth worker could start on Wednesday. And just a reminder of the board meeting Thursday night. Bad timing, I know, coming before the first weekend at the camp. But you need to be there.

This month’s board meeting was a big one, as they’d be discussing not only the budget cut from the city but the presentation to the Willow Springs town council regarding the lease.

The last message puzzled him. The number wasn’t familiar and, at first, neither was the voice. But the vocal style was a dead giveaway.

Not sure if this is your work number or a personal one, so apologies if I’m bothering you at home.

Before the end of the first sentence—uttered without a word of introduction—Matt knew the caller had to be Dana Sothern. Must be something about her check. Wanting to know why he hadn’t cashed it.

I noticed you haven’t cashed my check.

Aha.

And...um...if your suggestion is still on the table, I do have some time off work right now. Give me a call.

Matt stared in disbelief at his phone. So, she was taking him up on his challenge. That meant the check would have to stay in his desk for now. He called the number on his screen right away. She took long enough to answer that he considered disconnecting but eventually, that unfamiliar but melodic voice said, “Matt?”

“Yeah. I got your message.” He stopped there, letting her take the lead.

“So, I have time off work and can help out in some way at the camp.”

She seemed to want him to draw it out of her, even though she’d called him. But he waited long enough for her to add, “Unless you’d prefer to cash my check instead.”

Was nothing easy with this woman? Was it a yes or a no? “Look, Ms. Sothern. I suggested you help us out in lieu of donating money and you left without any discussion about that. Then you call to say you’ve got time after all. Now you’re asking me if I want to cash the check instead.” He paused, waiting for his blood pressure to ease. “I’m getting a lot of mixed messages here. What do you want to do?”

He heard the sigh and waited a moment longer for the answer. “I’m willing to help out a bit.”

“Okay. How long?”

“Um...one weekend?”

“Not worth your trouble, Ms. Sothern, nor mine, considering the police check I’ll have to initiate for you and some orientation. How about three?”

Another silence. “Two?”

Matt couldn’t believe it. They were negotiating how long she’d volunteer at the camp? Clearly, she had no concept of what the term volunteer actually meant. “Fine. Meet me at KidsFirst Wednesday afternoon and we’ll go over details.”

“I can’t do Wednesday. How about Thursday?”

He gritted his teeth. “Great. Come in the morning. Eight o’clock.”

She sounded taken aback, saying, “Eight?”

“Yes, eight, because I have to get out to the camp early and you can drive with me. There’s a camp staff meeting Friday morning that I hope you can attend because it’s mainly the only orientation I have time to give you. This first weekend is a short one, with the kids coming Saturday morning instead of Friday.”

“Okay. Shall I—”

“See you at eight,” he interrupted and disconnected before she could try to bargain further. Now he wished he hadn’t issued his challenge. Or been so prideful about cashing the check. He had a feeling Dana Sothern was going to be a whole lot more trouble than help to him and to Camp Hope.

* * *

THE DOOR WAS LOCKED, and Dana swore under her breath as the taxi rolled away. She glanced nervously up and down the street in front of KidsFirst, relieved to see a couple of people walking toward the bus stop at the end of the block. So much for my plan to get on the good side of Matt Rodriguez—if he even has one—by arriving early.

She thought about calling him but decided against taking her cell phone out of her pocket—not in this neighborhood—and began to pace, sipping on the latte she’d picked up on the way. Dana knew she needed to calm down, but Monday night’s phone call still bugged her. The way he’d hung up on her simply because she’d been taken aback by the eight o’clock meeting. The time was irrelevant. She was always at the office by eight, had been for years. Then there was the pointless bickering about how long she’d be volunteering. You’d think from his manner that he was doing her a favor. She’d had to work overtime the last two nights to finish the paperwork on the health-food-chain merger.

She checked her watch again and decided she’d give him five more minutes. If he didn’t show, at least she’d have the rare opportunity to indulge in a day off. Go shopping, have lunch at that new place near her condo in Lincoln Park. She could even call Jason, see if he was free. No. Not a good idea. That’s over. Her latte was almost finished and she’d allotted him an extra five minutes when a beat-up station wagon rumbled to a stop in front of her.

Dana bent to see if the driver was Matt just as the passenger-side window rolled down.

“Hop in,” he said, leaning over to pick up an empty coffee tray from the passenger-side floor. He tossed it into the back and watched as she climbed in, tucking her daypack between her legs.

“You can put that behind you if you want.”

She took another peek behind her. “No, it’s okay.”

“Uh, do you have other shoes with you?”

Dana peered down at her ankle-high leather boots with their short, sturdy heels, the perfect accessory to her black skinny jeans. She decided not to be offended by his assumption that she couldn’t figure out what to wear to a camp. “I’ve got sneakers in my pack,” she said, depositing her coffee cup in the holder and fastening her seat belt.

“Great, because the grounds might be muddy from the rain we’ve had.”

Dana looked at him. “I can do mud.”

He seemed about to say more but then nodded as he shifted the car into gear and drove away from the center. He was quiet while he navigated rush-hour traffic, which suited Dana. Other than getting information from him about the tasks he expected her to do, what else could they talk about? Yet as soon as the thought popped up, she realized they had one very obvious topic of conversation. That day. For some reason, he never brought it up.

As they left the city behind, Dana asked, “Where is this camp again?”

“Outside a town called Willow Springs. On Maple Lake. Not far. Maybe half an hour if traffic is good.”

Dana had never heard of either place but then, except for business, she seldom ventured outside Chicago. “Tell me how you got involved with it. The news article I read was mainly about the drop-in center.”

There was a softening in his eyes as he glanced quickly her way. “The idea for the camp came up about four years ago. We were having a meeting at KidsFirst and one of our counselors mentioned she’d been talking to a kid about a nature hike she’d recently made. This boy asked if she’d been scared going through the woods. His only concept of woods or forests—nature itself—was from horror movies and TV shows. Not only had he never seen a forest, he’d never even visited the big parks right here in Chicago. We liked the idea of taking the kids into the country on day trips and had been talking about it for some time. So we brainstormed and searched for possible locations. One of the team learned about an old campsite near Maple Lake. We found out the property was for lease, went to look at it and then began fund-raising.”

“And this happened four years ago?”

“Yeah. It took us a year to raise the money, then two more to negotiate the deal, get permits, get the buildings up to par and so on. Of course, we relied on grants and donations for all that. We finally opened last year but only used it as a day camp, starting at three days a week and working up to five. By the end of the summer, the kids were begging for sleepovers.”

His smile, along with the warmth in his voice, said it all. Dana couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt a similar enthusiasm. Maybe when Jason had surprised her with the trip to Paris—the one she’d canceled at the last minute because of a problem at work.

“Who owns the property?”

“The town of Willow Springs. An eccentric couple ran the place for years and when they died, their estate put the camp up for sale. The buildings themselves weren’t worth much but the land is adjacent to the Maple Lake Forest Preserve, owned by Cook County. The town bought the camp, intending to turn it back into parkland, but that plan got stalled. They decided to lease it to us in the meantime.”

“This isn’t a permanent situation, then.”

He turned briefly to look at her and sighed, “No, and that’s the problem. Our lease runs out at the end of June and we’re in the middle of putting together a presentation for an extension of five years.”

“Couldn’t you fund-raise to buy the property outright?”

“Ha! If only life were that simple.”

The exasperation in his voice prompted Dana to reconsider what she’d been about to say—that it seemed like a simple solution to her. Everything in life boiled down to money as far as she knew. Having it or wanting it. After a moment she said, “Sometimes life can be simple. Getting what you want is all in the approach.”

His answer was a loud exhale. As if she didn’t have a clue. But Dana knew otherwise. She’d learned the hard way how to camouflage emotion to get what she needed. She’d honed that skill over twenty years, starting from the day Matt Rodriguez put his own life at risk for her.

The hands gripping the steering wheel were, for all those years, what she remembered most about him. Along with his dark, almost black, eyes. When he’d hoisted her onto the platform and climbed up after her, his eyes had signaled a compassion that she hadn’t felt from another human being in years. Not since her mom died.

Her gaze followed up from those hands to his forearms and the tattoos on his olive-toned skin. The right one, nearest to her, was a dragon and the left seemed to be a tree. Dana sighed. At least there was no large MOM inscribed in a heart. She wondered when and why he’d gotten them but hesitated to ask.

He was wearing a plain black T-shirt today, snug fitting in a pleasing way. His profile was strong, his jaw set with determination. He was definitely an attractive man and Dana wondered if he was attached to anyone. Maybe Kristen, the woman at the center who’d seemed so protective of him. For some reason, that bothered her. Not that she had any claim on Matt Rodriguez.

Deciding to set her curiosity to rest, she asked, “So, what have you been doing the past twenty years?”

The car swerved as he abruptly looked her way. She smiled at the surprise in his face.

“Um, well...” He turned his attention back to the road ahead but finally finished his sentence. “I spent eight years in the army after high school.”

Army. That explained some things. “Afghanistan?”

“Iraq. Two tours then I was discharged. Went to college and got a youth worker diploma. I worked in construction for a while before and after that.”

“Not so many jobs in your field?”

“Hard to get a foot in the door. If you’re not with the city, you have to line up for jobs with nonprofits. I finally got my break with a city community center. Worked my way up to running the place and realized the city needed something more just for kids in the South Side. I had a lot of contacts by then and had figured out the system enough to start lobbying for KidsFirst.”

“It’s your baby.”

He looked over at her. “For sure.”

Dana wished she could be as emphatic describing her own job.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

He grinned. “Of course, you. What’ve you been doing these past twenty years?”

She hardly knew where to start. Because looking back was painful? Or because all those years now seemed so repetitive? An endless rollover of sameness, day after day.

“Well, I’m a lawyer.”

“No kidding!”

If only she could be as enthused about it.

“So how did your life go,” he suddenly asked, “afterward?”

Dana doubted her own story was as satisfying as his. She recalled his comment when she’d gone to the drop-in, that she’d made a success of her life. It depended on how you defined success. She was gazing out the window, searching for a way out of answering, when she spotted a highway sign that said Welcome to Willow Springs.

“I guess we’re almost there,” she said.