A Dream To Share. Irene Hannon

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СКАЧАТЬ an age and which she’d been diagnosed with just a few months ago.

      Still, it could be worse, she tried to console herself as she slid behind the wheel of her car. And it might get worse unless she followed her doctors’ instructions. The diet, the exercise, the medication—that was all controllable. But Dr. Martin had homed in on the one thing in her life that wasn’t: stress. And neither of the options for the Gazette’s fate alleviated that.

      Lord, help me get through this, she prayed as she drove down Main Street to the Chamber of Commerce meeting. Give me the courage to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

      Marge Sullivan banged the gavel on the conference table and called the meeting to order. “Has anyone heard from Ali Mahmoud?”

      The other Chamber members shook their heads.

      “It’s not like him to be late,” Abby said.

      “I know.” Marge propped a hand on her ample hip. “Maybe we should call the restaurant and…”

      The door opened, cutting her off, and eight heads swiveled toward the black-haired man who entered. His swarthy skin seemed a couple of shades lighter than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Deep creases on his forehead and around his mouth made him look far older than his forty-six years.

      “Sorry I’m late.” He paused on the threshold, grasping the door frame.

      A knot formed in Abby’s stomach and she started to rise. “Ali, are you all right?”

      “Yes. But the restaurant…that’s another story.”

      “Come and sit down,” Marge urged. “Tell us what happened.”

      As he took his place, Abby poured him a cup of coffee.

      “Thanks.” He gave her a wan smile and took a sip. “We had a fire just before dawn. In the kitchen.”

      “How bad is it?” Marge asked, her eyes shadowed with concern.

      “Not bad enough to shut us down. But if I hadn’t happened to go in extra early today to prepare for a private party…” He shook his head.

      “What caused it?” Abby asked.

      “Arson.”

      Shocked silence greeted his response. Such crime was unheard of in Oak Hill.

      “But who would do such a thing?” Abby asked when she could find her voice.

      “That’s what Dale is trying to figure out.”

      “And he will,” Marge declared.

      In the year since he’d taken on the sheriff’s job Dale Lewis had earned the respect of the entire community. A hometown boy and former L.A. cop, he was sharp, thorough and tough when he had to be. Oak Hill was lucky to have him back, Abby reflected—a sentiment pretty much shared by everyone in town.

      “I hope so. Because…well, there was more to it than just a fire.”

      “What do you mean?” Marge asked.

      “Whoever did this spray painted a message on the back door. Something very…unflattering about Allah. Then it said, ‘Go back where you came from.’”

      An ominous chill ran down Abby’s spine. The fire had been a hate crime. Though Abby had read a great deal about such malicious attacks since 9/11, it had never occurred to her that such a despicable crime could come to Oak Hill.

      “What did Dale say?” Abby asked.

      “That he’d seen a lot of cases like this in L.A. And that it wasn’t always easy to track down the perpetrators. But he promised to do his best.”

      “Well, if there’s anything we can do to help, you just let us know,” Marge said, before proceeding with the meeting.

      An hour later, when the gathering broke up, Abby stopped to speak with Ali. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your trouble. Hate crimes are bad enough no matter who the victim is, but you were born and raised in the United States. You’re as American as I am. Despite what the message said, this is where you came from.”

      “Things like this happened when I lived in Detroit, too. But not on this scale. Just snide comments, pranks, that sort of thing.”

      “How can people behave that way?”

      “Foreigners often meet with difficulties when they try to assimilate into a community. That’s just the way things are.” His tone was weary and resigned.

      “You’ve been in Oak Hill for five years. And you’re not a foreigner.”

      “I look like one. This kind of thing is hard to fight, Abby. Changing preconceived ideas, softening people’s hearts…it’s a difficult task.”

      That was true. Still, prejudice in any form had always rankled Abby. She supposed it was a gene she’d inherited, considering that her grandfather had written bold editorials about race relations in the United States long before the national consciousness had been sensitized to the issue.

      All at once an idea began to take shape in her mind. “It may be difficult, but it’s not impossible. Sometimes people just need a nudge.”

      “Or a shove.” Ali summoned up a smile and placed his hand on Abby’s arm. “In any case, I know I have many friends here who have welcomed me and my family to the community. This is just an aberration.” He lowered his hand and checked his watch. “Now I have to run.”

      “Be careful, Ali.”

      He acknowledged her comment with a wave, and as he disappeared through the door Abby’s expression grew pensive. Maybe she couldn’t catch the perpetrator. That was Dale’s job. But at least she could do her part to soften a few hearts.

      Abby tried to ignore her ringing phone. Her attention was focused on the computer screen in front of her, her mind forming the words more rapidly than she could type them as she composed an editorial about hate crimes. She should have forwarded her phone calls to Molly, the Gazette’s administrative assistant/receptionist. But she’d been so fired up when she’d returned from the Chamber meeting that she’d headed straight for her keyboard.

      As the phone continued to ring, guilt prickled Abby’s conscience. A reporter never let a ringing phone go unanswered. That was a cardinal rule of journalism. Who knew when a hot tip might be coming in?

      With an annoyed huff, she reached for the phone without breaking the rhythm of her typing. “Oak Hill Gazette. Abby speaking.”

      “Abby Warner?”

      “Yes.”

      “This is Mark Campbell from Campbell Publishing. I believe you were expecting my call. If you have a few minutes, I’d like to discuss my visit.”

      That got her attention. And broke the train of thought she’d been trying to hold on to. Aggravated, she swung away from her computer screen and closed her eyes. A dreaded doctor’s visit, a hate crime in their town and now this. Lord, СКАЧАТЬ