All Our Tomorrows. Irene Hannon

      “Did you have a fever?”

      “Yes. A hundred and three.”

      “You needed to stay in bed.”

      “That’s what Michael said.”

      “He was right.”

      “No.” Her voice was resolute. “I should have gone.”

      “You’d have been killed.”

      “I know. But it should have been me.” Her voice broke on the last word.

      “Do you think that’s what Michael would have wanted?”

      David’s quiet question startled her. And the answer was obvious. No, of course not. Given a choice between who would live and who would die, Michael would have taken her place in a heartbeat. But that was beside the point. She wouldn’t have let him.

      She shook her head. “Thanks for trying. And thank you for this.” She cradled the medallion in her hand, fighting back tears. She hadn’t cried at work in a long time. And she didn’t intend to start now.

      “Maybe God had other plans for you, Caroline. Maybe that’s why He took Michael instead of you.”

      Jolted, she stared at him. That was a new thought. And a generous one, considering that she was the primary reason David had lost the brother he loved. But it wasn’t one she put much stock in. She saw no greater purpose in her life than had been in Michael’s, didn’t think she had any more to contribute than he had. His work had been Pulitzer-prize quality. She was good at her job, but not as good as he had been. No, that explanation didn’t hold up for her.

      She was saved from having to respond by the jarring ring of the phone, reminding her that she had an interview to conduct. Even if talking with the mayor right now about the new zoning law was about as appealing as…playing her mother’s guessing game.

      “That must be your interview. I’ll let myself out.”

      “Thank you for coming today,” she said as she reached for the phone.

      “It was long overdue.”

      As she put the phone to her ear, mouthed a greeting and waited to be connected to the mayor, she watched David make a quick exit, then weave through the newsroom toward the front door. When he reached it, he turned back. Their gazes connected, and held, for a brief second. But it was long enough for Caroline to sense that for David, their meeting today had provided a sense of closure. Then he lifted his hand and disappeared through the door. It shut behind him, with a symbolic sense of finality, giving her the distinct feeling that he had no intention of contacting her again. That his visit today had tied up the last loose end associated with Michael’s death.

      Caroline wished she could find that same sense of closure. That she, too, could shut the door on her past. But for her, the pain, the regret, the guilt, just wouldn’t go away.

      David, on the other hand, seemed to have found some sense of comfort, some relief, some absolution, in his faith. Not to mention a wellspring of charity. Instead of hating her when she’d revealed her part in Michael’s death—as he’d had every right to do—he’d put it in the hands of the Lord, suggesting that perhaps God had other plans for her.

      And for just a moment, as she had on that Christmas when they’d met, she envied him his bond with a greater power, which had given him answers and lightened his burdens while hers still weighed down her soul.

      Chapter Two

      “That’s good news on the funding front, Martin. Every donation helps. Thanks for the report.” Chairman Mark Holton checked the agenda for the Uplink board meeting. “Looks like you’re next, Allison. What’s the latest on signing up mentoring organizations?”

      “Good news there, too. Several more businesses have agreed to take on student interns over the summer. But a lot of the companies I contacted had never heard of Uplink. I think we need to find a way to generate some additional publicity.”

      “Point well taken.” Mark surveyed the eight-member board, ending with David. “Any thoughts?”

      “Well, after only a couple of months on the job, I have limited experience to draw on,” David responded. “But I’ve run into the same issue with my outreach efforts at schools. Some of the administrators are familiar with the program, but most of the students aren’t. It wouldn’t hurt to have some coverage in the local media.”

      “I agree.” Mark turned to Rachel Harris, the publicity chairperson. “Have we pitched any stories in the past few weeks?”

      “No. Not since the Post-Dispatch did that piece last fall. It might not be a bad idea to contact the Chronicle, considering its wide reach. I can make a cold call, but if anyone has a connection there it would be helpful.”

      “I know the managing editor,” David offered.

      “Excellent.” Mark jotted a few notes on a pad in front of him.

      Now what had prompted him to blurt that out? David chided himself in dismay. He’d had no intention of contacting Caroline again after he walked out of her office a few days before.

      “Could you make a call?” Mark asked. “Rachel can follow up, but it might help if you paved the way.”

      David wasn’t so sure about that. But short of explaining his link to Caroline—which he didn’t intend to do—he was left with no option but to agree. “Sure. I’ll call her later this week.”

      “All right. Now why don’t you bring us up-to-date on your outreach efforts at the schools.”

      As David gave them a quick overview of his busy schedule of visits to area high schools, he focused on a few institutions in the most troubled parts of the city, where he’d put a great deal of effort into recruiting participants. When he ticked off their names, a few board members shifted in their seats and exchanged uneasy glances.

      “Is there a problem?” David asked.

      “I think there’s some concern about soliciting participants from those schools,” Mark told him when no one else spoke. “Many of them have gang problems, and those students may not be the best representatives for our program right now. If any of them cause trouble at their assigned businesses, it could hinder our efforts.”

      “And if they succeed, it could help our cause.”

      “It’s the if we’re worried about.”

      “Let me make sure I understand the issue.” David folded his hands on the table in front of him and leveled a direct gaze at the chairman. “I thought the mission of Uplink was to reach out to gifted students who were in environments that might sabotage their continued education. I was working on the assumption that our goal was to offer them an opportunity to develop their talents and encourage them to continue in school by giving them role models and experience in a real-world setting. To provide them with a taste of the kind of life they might have if they persevere despite the obstacles that their present situations might present. Is that correct?”

      “Yes,” Mark affirmed.

      “Then we need to be aggressive in our recruiting or we’ll fail.”

      “We’ll also fail if we recruit students who cause problems with the participating businesses.”

      Stifling a frustrated sigh, David nodded. “Understood. But unless we offer this program to those who need it most, we’re doing a disservice to our mission.”

      “David has a point.” All heads swiveled toward Reverend Steve Dempsky, one of the charter board members. “If we play this too safe, the program loses its meaning. Let’s not forget that we were heading in that direction under our former director. We brought David in to give the program some punch, to make it more dynamic and cutting edge. I don’t think we want to tie his hands at this point. We need to trust his judgment and have confidence he won’t take undue