Her Kind Of Hero. Janice Carter

for kids fifteen to eighteen twice a week. A couple of teachers volunteer for those, but my staff has the training to focus on preteens and early teens.”

      She looked around the room and gestured down the central corridor to the tech area. “I see computers. Do you offer courses?”

      “As you can see, we only have six and they’re in high demand. Usually at least one is out of circulation due to some kind of tech issue. We have to limit usage because the kids would be on them all the time, but we try to organize equitable sessions for the various age groups.”

      “And you don’t have the budget to buy more?”

      Matt turned to look at her. “Our budget’s tight and we have to prioritize. Especially now, with the recent cutback.”

      She nodded thoughtfully. “Right. Anyway, most families have computers, don’t they? Maybe not state-of-the-art but...”

      “Many do but not all can afford internet,” he interrupted. “The families of these kids have to prioritize, too.” Matt disliked the patronizing comment but surely she could have figured that out for herself.

      If his tone bothered her, she was good at hiding it. “How long have you been running this place?” she asked, returning her gaze to him.

      “It’s been in operation for six years.” He was about to go on when Kristen approached.

      “Hey, Matt, Jeanette’s going to replenish the snack supplies. Do you need anything? She can pick up something for your lunch, if you like.”

      “No, thanks, I’m good.” Matt caught her quick appraisal of Dana, standing beside him, and added, “Kristen, this is Dana Sothern. She’s...uh...” He hesitated, searching for an easy explanation.

      “Interested in community organizations,” Dana finished. She extended her hand, which Kristen took after a second’s pause.

      “From the funding end or volunteering?”

      Social niceties were never Kristen’s style. Matt looked away, hiding his smile.

      “Definitely funding,” Dana said, taking Matt by surprise.

      “Wonderful,” Kristen said and sauntered away.

      Matt was puzzled by her manner. She’d been working at the drop-in almost from its inception, so she knew more than anyone how important volunteers and sponsors were. He didn’t understand the lack of appreciation in her voice. Perhaps it stemmed from the staff’s pessimism since the drop-in’s funds from the city were cut. Either that or she took exception to Dana for some other reason.

      “Where were we?” Dana asked when Kristen was out of earshot.

      Matt was suddenly tongue-tied. “Well, you can see the lounge area from here.” He pointed to the carpeted space in the center of the room, with its sagging couches and beanbag chairs. “We get most of our book donations from the local library, whenever they weed their collection. A lot of the kids are more into magazines, so we include a few subscriptions in our budget.”

      “Couldn’t they read them online? Be cheaper.”

      Matt pursed his lips. “Then they’d have to access the computers and—”

      “Oh, right. There are only six of them.”

      The silence that fell between them said it all. Whatever world she came from, her clothes and demeanor signaled it was one Matt had never been a part of. He suddenly doubted whether the woman next to him could really be the frightened, vulnerable girl he’d saved that day. Only moments ago, he’d been keen to know more about her, to learn what she’d been doing the past twenty years. But now he could see the wide gap between them. Just because you saved her life doesn’t mean you two have a bond.

      “Okay, there you have it. I should get back to my paperwork.” He noticed what he thought was a flicker of disappointment on her face.

      As he turned away, she said, “My briefcase. I left it in your office.”

      “Uh-huh,” he mumbled, heading toward the front of the room. The burst of energy created by the woman’s surprise appearance had fizzled out and all the questions that had popped into Matt’s head had vanished. Anyway, it’s not as if you’re going to be friends.

      He stood by the door, waiting while she picked up her briefcase. Then she abruptly sat again, placed the case on the desk and opened it up. Matt watched her skim through partitions, and when she withdrew a checkbook, his suspicion about what she was doing was confirmed. Well, hadn’t she told Kristen her interest in the center was focused on funding? Wasn’t this a good thing?

      But the emotion flowing through him didn’t feel good, especially when she turned around and said, “This is the least I can do. To thank you for that day.” She held the check out as he walked past her to his own chair.

      The figures blurred for a second as he looked at the check. The amount would easily cover the cost of the new sleeping cabin at Camp Hope. He glanced up, noticing the small but tight smile on her otherwise impassive face and felt his cheeks heat up. His hand trembled and he set the check down while clenching his other hand into a fist. He waited until he could speak without raising his voice and in that pause saw confusion cross her face. For some reason, that pleased him.

      “First, thank you for such generosity.” He tapped his index finger on the check before sliding it across the desk back to her.

      She frowned but said nothing.

      “But I can’t accept that, because saving your life twenty years ago had nothing to do with reward or compensation. It was a spontaneous, impulsive act on my part. Anyone would have done the same thing.”

      She shook her head. “Not true. None of those kids even tried to stop what was happening before I fell onto the tracks.”

      “I’m sorry for that,” Matt said, “but from what I see, the incident hasn’t stopped you from making a success of your life.”

      At that, she flushed. Biting her lower lip, she looked down into her lap. The reaction startled him. Had he hit a nerve?

      Later, he would tell himself that this was the moment his bizarre idea came to mind.

      When she finally spoke, his idea solidified. “Then take it as a donation to a good cause. It’s a win for both of us. You get some funding and I get a tax deduction.” She flashed a smile.

      The triumph in her voice irked. As much as he appreciated donations from people or companies, Matt had always felt a prickle of resentment at the ease of dismissing society’s troubles with a check. There were thousands of selfless, hardworking volunteers in the city who gave their time without the need for recognition. And while any community agency needed both volunteers and donors, the realization that the sad, scared teenager he’d hoisted off the tracks years ago came from the group he’d never felt comfortable around was disappointing. So Matt stuck with his game plan.

      “I have another idea,” he began, “one that could end up being win-win but in a different way.”

      “Oh?”

      Matt smiled. He would see how long that interest lasted. “Later this month we’re opening up Camp Hope for another season. It’s a project we got funding for two years ago, a camp near Maple Lake, outside Willow Springs.” Her puzzled expression told him she hadn’t a clue about either of those places. “Last year we ran it as a day camp, busing kids from here to experience a bit of nature and life outside the city. The kids loved it so much we decided to try running a sleepover camp this year. There was already one sleeping cabin on the property and we had enough money to renovate it last fall. We’re in the process of building a second cabin, which should be finished soon.” He didn’t add that her check would have paid off the loan for that cabin.

      “Okay,” she said, clearly unsure where he was heading.

      “The place won’t start up officially until late June but we’re hoping to iron