Her Kind of Hero

by Janice Carter

  “Thanks, buddy. Every bit helps.” Matt stood to go check on the preparations for going home when Sandro stopped him.

  “Listen, I’m puzzled by something Lenny said.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He mentioned something that happened twenty years ago. Made it seem that you and he had some kind of fallout.”

  Matt hesitated.

  “You know,” Sandro went on, “he was talking about spilled milk. What’s past is past. Blah blah blah.”

  Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Matt waited another moment. How much to tell? Most of it, he decided suddenly, except the part about the subway and Dana. “He was talking about us not joining up with the Boyz gang.”

  “Okay, but he sounded like he’d been bugged about that. And why should he have been? I mean, he was the one who said we didn’t make the pass.”

  “Look, Sandro, that was twenty years ago. Water under the bridge, right? Who cares now?”

  Sandro frowned. “I guess I do, bro. If it’s not a big deal, why the secrecy?”

  “There’s no secrecy. It just doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Okay, I get that. But you’re still not answering my question. I’d like to know.”

  There was no avoiding telling him. “When I told you that Lenny and his boys gave us a pass, I wasn’t totally accurate.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Matt shrugged, splaying his hands and hoping the show of nonchalance would lessen the effect of what he was about to say. “What actually happened was that I told Lenny you and I had changed our minds. We weren’t interested in joining after all.”

  “What?”

  Matt shivered at the incredulity in Sandro’s voice.

  “What the...! Bro, what were you thinking? And why didn’t you ask me first?”

  Matt leaned forward, his voice steady. “It was for the best, Sandro. Think! Think how our lives might have turned out if we’d signed up. No army. No education after our discharge. And maybe a record.”

  “But...but, why didn’t you tell me? Even afterward?”

  “I was afraid you’d go to Lenny and say you’d changed your mind.” Matt peered down at his desk, emotions welling. “I didn’t want that for you.”

  There was a long silence until Sandro muttered, “I get that. You thought you were being my friend. But listen up. You weren’t my keeper then and you aren’t now. You had no right to make a decision like that for me.”

  Matt flinched. “I thought I was doing you a favor,” he said.

  Sandro shook his head again. “But think how bad it could have gone down. Lenny could have punished us for turning him down.”

  He was right. Matt had taken that risk twenty years ago and fortunately for both of them, that hadn’t happened. “I don’t think Lenny cared that much anyway.”

  “Maybe not. But that was a huge gamble. And you had no right to make it on my behalf.” Sandro swung around and made for the door.

  “I’m sorry, Sandro. I thought—”

  The door slammed shut.

  * * *

  “I HAVE A favor to ask,” Matt said, coming up to stand next to Dana as she waved goodbye to the buses.

  “Sure, Matt. What is it?”

  “My office?”

  “Sure. In five? I just have to collect my things.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Great. See you then.”

  She watched him walk away, catching the slump of his shoulders. Rushing back to the cabin, she thought how peculiar the weekend had been. Moments of drama punctuated by interludes of normalcy. Although except for Saturday night’s ghost-story debacle, the kids’ behavior had been typically “kid-like.” Dana had to smile at that. As if she were now an expert on child behavior, after two weekends!

  Kristen was combing the cabin interior for any forgotten belongings when Dana came in. “Guess you’re all set?” she asked.

  “Yup.” Dana went into their small room and came back out, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

  “Well, in spite of last night, it was an okay weekend,” Kristen said.

  “Yeah.” Dana hesitated, then said, “It was good to work with you, Kristen.”

  The other woman smiled. “Likewise. Maybe we’ll see you again?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Partway to the door, Dana turned around when Kristen asked, “Do you like Matt?”

  Dana froze. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Kristen pursed her lips. “I sound like a teenager. You know what I mean. Do you like him more than as a friend? Romantically?” Then she gave an embarrassed laugh.

  “I do know what you mean, Kristen, and...yes, I do like Matt a bit more than simply as a friend. But... You know—”

  “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. Matt and I have been friends for a long time and I think his interest in you is a lot more than platonic. I wouldn’t want to see him get hurt.”

  “He won’t be, Kristen. And thanks again.”

  She mulled over that unexpected conversation on the way to Matt’s office.

  The lodge was eerily quiet. Dana could hear muted voices from the kitchen, where June and Gayle were packing up, but the parking area was empty, except for her car, Matt’s car and June’s van. Everyone was no doubt exhausted from the physical and stressful weekend, wanting to get home as quickly as possible.

  Matt looked up at her tap on his opened door and smiled.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  She set her stuff on the floor and sat across from him, thinking he had a few more worry lines than yesterday. “What can I do for you?”

  His smile broadened. “That’s one of the things I like about you. You always know exactly what to say. No extraneous questions.”

  “Must be the lawyer in me,” she said, shrugging. “We tend to cut to the chase.” In most things anyway, she added to herself.

  “It’s been a weird weekend.”

  “Yes. Although I only have one other to compare it to.” She wanted to ask about the two visitors that day, but knew patience was a better option than a barrage of questions. He’d get to the point eventually.

  “Umm, I don’t suppose you’d be interested in coming back next weekend? It’s the last trial one.”

  She’d already decided to return if she was needed and was thrilled that he clearly wanted her to. “Sure. And hopefully it’ll be a very different one.”

  He smiled at that. “There is one more thing. I spent part of the morning on the phone with the parents of those two boys we sent home and the lawyer you recommended.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “A meeting has been set up for tomorrow morning and... I realize this has nothing to do with you...but I was wondering if you’d be able to come with me.”

  Dana straightened. This wasn’t what she had expected.

  “It wouldn’t be a long one,” he quickly went on, “it’s just to share information. Andy’s coming, too, as the boys’ counselor. The lawyer just wants to go over what happened, make some notes and get some statements. In case a charge is laid.

  “I know this is out of your legal field, Dana. And it’s a lot to ask, given that you’ve already donated a lot of your time to Camp Hope. But...”

  He was struggling, and Dana felt a rise of impatience. Just say it, Matt. Come out with it.

  “I think your presence would lower my stress level a lot.”

  His steady voice was at odds with the appeal in his eyes. Dana nodded. “Of course.” There was no way she could possibly refuse to support him, even if it meant taking more time away from the office, something that would inevitably displease her father. Especially now, after his information about the partnership opportunity.

  * * *

  “A CAPPUCCINO, WITH skim milk, please. This calls for celebration.”

&
nbsp; “Totally,” Matt agreed, smiling. “Be right back.”

  Dana watched him walk over to the coffee bar to place their orders, noting how much lighter his step was than half an hour ago. The meeting had just broken up, a mere twenty minutes after its start, when the lawyer she’d recommended breezed in at the last minute with the news that there would be no charges.

  “The so-called witness turns out to be the actual perpetrator,” Ross Henning had announced, going on to inform them that he’d received an early-morning phone call that the witness, a boy who’d been camping with his family at Happy-Go-Lucky, had confessed to setting the fire.

  Matt was still smiling when he returned with a tray holding two scones and coffee mugs. “Well, that’s one thing off my mind,” he said as he set it down onto the table.

  “Were you surprised by the news?” she asked.

  Matt stirred a packet of sugar into his Americano. “A better word is relieved. I didn’t know those boys very well. They’re newcomers to the drop-in. But I wanted to believe that they hadn’t set the fire.”

  Dana cautiously sipped her hot coffee. “It was a good outcome for the camp.”

  “Darn right! As to those boys...I’m not sure I want them to come back. At least, not right away.”

  “They did wander off.”

  He nodded. “First big rule. Don’t leave the property unaccompanied.”

  “Though we hadn’t gone over all the rules at that point,” she said.

  “Not an excuse. They ought to have known better. Then they got into name-calling with that kid and... Well...”

  “A wrong move, sure. But given their age and the provocation, maybe understandable. Didn’t he admit he’d started it? The disparaging remarks about their backgrounds?”

  Matt grinned. “You playing devil’s advocate or defending them? Maybe this experience has highlighted a possible career move for you.”

  “How so?”

  “A move from corporate law to community legal work. Perhaps even some pro bono work.”

  And my father would have a fit! Dana shrugged as she broke off a piece of scone and popped it into her mouth. Still, the notion was an interesting one. And she had liked standing up for the boys and their parents. But what she wanted to steer the conversation toward was the arrival of the two men at the campground yesterday.

  She was searching for a way to bring the visits into the conversation when Matt’s cell phone chimed. She watched his face alter as he read. When he raised his head, his expression sent her stomach plummeting. What now?

  “Sandro emailed me this link.” He handed the phone over.

  She felt a chill as she scanned the large ominous letters beneath the masthead for the Willow Springs Times.

  Fires, Shady Characters and Delinquents

  Camp Hope, part of a city-funded program for inner-city kids in Chicago and situated on property owned by the town of Willow Springs, might well be called Camp Hopeless. A recent fire at the nearby privately-owned campground...

  Dana looked up, sensing her face was as stricken as his. The reporter. She reached around his coffee cup to clasp his hand. “We can fix this, Matt. Seriously.”

  “I don’t know.” He clenched the hand she was holding, shaking his head. “I’m afraid the damage has been done.”

  If they weren’t in a busy coffee shop, she would have wrapped her arms around him. “We will work it out, Matt. Together.”

  “Thank heavens you’re here,” he murmured, his dark eyes boring into hers. Then he withdrew his hand and said, “I have to get to KidsFirst to talk to the staff. Maybe even call a board meeting.”

  As she watched him leave, Dana couldn’t help but wonder how this development—if he were to learn about it—could add fuel to Brent’s arguments about her volunteering commitment and absence from work.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HER FATHER’S EXECUTIVE assistant was on the phone as Dana passed by his office, and she gestured wildly when she spotted Dana, pointing to the closed door behind her. Dana sighed, made a U-turn and gave the door a single rap before entering.

  Ken Patel was sitting opposite her father and got quickly to his feet, his face reddening.

  “For crying out loud, Dana!”

  “Sorry. I thought you wanted to see me.” She caught the quick glance between Ken and Brent.

  Brent nodded at Ken, who hurried out of the office. Dana waited until the door closed behind him. “What’s up, Dad?”

  “First, I want to know if you’re finished with that camp.”

  Dana exhaled loudly and sat in the chair Ken had just vacated. “Dad,” she began, fighting to keep her frustration in check, “I officially have one more week of vacation left, remember? I only came in today because I was in the neighborhood.”

  “In the neighborhood,” he intoned, shaking his head. “How sad is that?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve been working here—in the family law firm—for ten years, Dana. And you came in today only because you happened to be nearby?”

  “Surely I’m entitled to time off like anyone else.” Dana struggled to keep her voice level, feeling herself getting pulled into Brent’s web.

  “If you were on a real vacation, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, Dana. You’d be relaxing like every other person.”

  “I have the right to spend my time off as I choose, and we agreed the time would mean a real break. This argument is going to go in circles, Dad.”

  She started to stand up when he stopped her by saying, “Ken came to see me with serious concerns. I asked him to review the Evergreen file in your prolonged absence, to see if there was anything important pending.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to protest. “Because you’ve been ignoring my emails and texts as usual, I had no idea where you were on it. We scheduled that conference call with Evergreen and Nirvana, the one you suggested last week, for today at noon. Or have you forgotten that, too?”

  He paused to take a breath. “I got a phone call first thing this morning from Michael Lim, the Nirvana CEO, before we even have the conference call, complaining that they haven’t received their requested feedback and information on their plan to purchase property outside Chicago.”

  Dana flushed and stared down at her lap. Her impulse to retort, “What plan?” would confirm what her father clearly knew—she’d dropped the ball on a big file and an important client. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll get to it right away.”

  “Fine. Here’s the file,” he said, handing her a thick folder. “I want a report before you leave for the day. I decided to cancel the conference call, given that we’re unprepared for it. But I want you to call Lim with an update.”

  When she reached the door, he added, “Dana, one more thing. We need to talk. Meet me here at seven. I’m taking you to dinner.”

  There was that familiar tone. The one that brooked no debate. This wasn’t an invitation but a summons. It had been like this since she was a kid. “All right,” she said.

  Dana waded through the file all afternoon, checking continually for any messages from Matt. Her preoccupation with what might be happening at the drop-in was telling. Where was her usual focus? Her desire to search documents for minute details that she could use to opt into or out of a deal?

  She knew she’d embarrassed her father by shirking her duty to the firm. The fact that he’d been told about it by an employee must have been humiliating for Brent. Now she’d put at risk her own status with the firm. She and Ken were both up for the junior partnership and her father had told her when she came into the firm not to expect special treatment.

  A few times she raised her head from the Evergreen/Nirvana folder to scan the room outside her glassed-in office—the collection of desks, people talking on the phone or bent over files. It wasn’t a large workspace, but it was a busy one. A
nd as she read and jotted notes, a single revealing thought kept cycling through her mind. I don’t care about any of this and haven’t for some time.

  By five o’clock she’d learned that Evergreen had finalized its merger with Nirvana when she was filling in for Maria. Ken had signed off on it at Brent’s instruction, since she hadn’t been available and hadn’t been responding to emails or texts. That hard fact reinforced her feelings that she was losing interest in her job.

  But in spite of their agreement that she could be “unplugged” on her time away, she had let her father down and she felt bad about that. The last memo on file was a copy of an email from Evergreen’s CEO, informing the firm that their new acquisition, Nirvana, intended to set up another facility in the Chicago area and was looking for properties. Could Sothern and Davis assist in the search? Dana sighed.

  She finished her report, telephoned Lim to say that the firm would do whatever it could to facilitate any purchase of land in the Chicago area and apologized for not responding sooner. She was photocopying her report when her cell rang.

  “Matt?”

  “I hope I got you at an okay time.”

  “Sure, but I’m about to meet up with my father for dinner.”

  “Thought I’d let you know we’re having an emergency board meeting tonight at KidsFirst to discuss the news article. I’m worried a couple of the members who were doubtful about running the camp all summer might want to revisit that decision. Plus, I heard some of them want to discuss which kids should be allowed to attend.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Maybe you noticed someone come to the camp yesterday morning, before the councilor?”

  “Tall guy? Shaved head and lots of tattoos?”

  “Yeah. Well, he...uh...he’s the parent of a girl who goes to the drop-in and he was inquiring about her attending the camp. He had some concerns because the girl sometimes wets the bed and he was worried she might not be accepted. Anyway, he’s the guy referred to in the article. Apparently, that reporter who came out to the camp interviewed some town councilors about the arson charge, including the one who happened to be there at the same time this parent was leaving. Hence the reference to ‘shady’ characters, which implies...”