All Our Tomorrows. Irene Hannon

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Mary. Thanks.”

      A second later, David’s voice came over the line. “Caroline?”

      “Yes, hi. I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon.”

      “I didn’t expect to be calling. But we had a discussion earlier this week at the Uplink board meeting about the need for publicity, and I offered to contact you to see if the Chronicle might be interested in running a piece about the organization.”

      So this was a business call. She hadn’t expected that, either. But it was much easier to deal with. The knot of tension in her stomach eased.

      In journalist mode, she swiveled her chair back toward her desk, reached for a pen and drew a pad of paper toward her. “We’re always looking for good story leads. But I have to confess that I’m not familiar with Uplink.”

      “That’s the problem. Not enough people are. And that hampers our ability to fully realize our mission.”

      “Which is?”

      “We target gifted high school juniors in difficult environments and match them with mentors in participating businesses for summer internships to provide them with a taste of a real-world work environment. We hope the experience gives them not only a stimulating summer job, but an incentive to continue with their education. Then we follow up with ongoing support groups to ensure that we don’t lose them after their internships.”

      “You mentioned some of this last week. Sounds worthwhile.”

      “We think so. But the organization is only three years old—still a fledgling. There’s a lot more we could do if this really takes off. For that to happen, though, we need to heighten awareness.”

      “What sort of article did you have in mind?”

      “I’m not sure. One of the board members, Rachel Harris, handles publicity and communication. She can follow up with more information if you’re interested in pursuing this. My role was just to get a foot in the door.”

      “All right.” Caroline jotted the woman’s name down, then laid the pen aside. “Have her give me a call. If we can find a good angle, it might make an interesting article.”

      “That would be great. We’d appreciate it.”

      “Like I said, we’re always looking for good stories. But I have to admit I’m curious about how you became connected with the group. This seems far removed from your previous job.”

      The momentary silence on the other end of the line told her he was surprised by the question. And so was she. She hadn’t planned to introduce anything personal to their conversation. The comment had just popped out.

      Despite his initial reaction, however, David’s tone was conversational when he responded. “It is. I’d been doing a lot of soul-searching for the past few years, and I began to feel a need to do something with my life that had more purpose than just making a lot of money.”

      A melancholy smile whispered at the corners of her mouth. “Michael used to say almost exactly the same thing.”

      Her comment startled him. No one had ever compared him to his brother before. It made him feel good, and odd at the same time. “I guess that’s true,” he acknowledged. “But my impetus was different. It grew out of long conversations with God.”

      “You’re right. Michael was driven by a deep sense of ethics versus faith, and by a desire to help improve the human race.”

      “I guess our goal was the same, then. Just not the motivation.”

      “Well…I wish you luck with the job. It sounds like good work. I’ll be expecting Rachel’s call.”

      “Great. We appreciate anything you can do. Take care.”

      The line went dead, and Caroline put the phone back in its holder. She still wasn’t sure why she’d asked about his new job. It had moved them out of a safe topic and into touchy personal territory. Maybe it had just been her professional curiosity kicking in. Since asking questions was part of her job, it made sense that she would delve a little deeper with David. Didn’t it?

      The answer came to her in a flash. No. If she’d wanted to avoid personal discussion, if she’d wanted to get off the phone as fast as possible, she’d have ended the conversation instead of detouring to a more personal line of questioning.

      Okay, so much for her first theory. She tried another one on for size. Maybe contact with David made her feel, in some way, connected with Michael. As if, through David, Michael was still somehow part of her life in a tangible way. She and David were the only ones who had really known, and loved, the man she’d planned to marry. Her mother was a great sounding board, and she’d listened with infinite patience when Caroline had reached the stage of grief where she could talk about her fiancé, and share some of her memories. But her mother had no firsthand knowledge of him beyond that brief Christmas visit to both families.

      David, on the other hand, had years’ worth of memories of Michael. Ones that Caroline didn’t have. His bond to the prize-winning photojournalist was as strong as hers, in a different way. Maybe, on some subconscious level, she wanted to tap into them. To supplement her own memories of the man she’d loved, who had talked of his past only on rare occasions. And maybe she also wanted to shore up her memories. In recent months it had grown harder for her to picture Michael’s face without the aid of a photograph. She’d already begun to forget the unique sound of his voice. Along with the feel of his touch. She didn’t want to let go of Michael, but he was slipping away, bit by bit. And that frightened her. Perhaps her reaching out to David today had been driven by fear, and by a desire to connect with the one man who had the best chance of keeping Michael alive for her.

      Yes, no doubt that was it.

      Satisfied, Caroline reached for her red pen and pulled the copy back toward her. Only then did she realize that her jerky squiggle bore a striking resemblance to half of a heart. How appropriate, she reflected with a pang. Half a heart was exactly what she felt like she had. The rest had died along with the man she loved.

      And there was nothing David Sloan could do to fix that.

      “Here’s some information on Uplink. And I asked Mitch about it, too.” Tess Jackson laid the material on Caroline’s desk, taking the seat the managing editor waved her into.

      “Did he know anything?”

      “Not a lot. It’s targeted more toward inner-city schools. But he made a few calls, and in general heard glowing reports from his colleagues. He thought it would be a very worthwhile feature. I do, too, from a journalistic perspective.”

      After a quick scan of the material, Caroline leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. She respected Mitch Jackson, a former cop whose innovative work as a hands-on high school principal had drawn state-wide notice. His personal interventions had steered dozens of wayward students back to the right path. She also respected his wife’s assessment of the story potential. That was why Tess had been promoted in two short years to assistant editor.

      “Okay. What kind of angle do you propose?”

      “Human interest. I think we should include some history of Uplink, but focus on a couple of the students who’ve been through the program and talk about what a difference it made in СКАЧАТЬ