by Irene Hannon
Now there was a name from the past. It took Caroline a few seconds to place her. “Your high school classmate? The one you play bridge with?”
“Yes. I never saw a woman who loved her mother more. And she had to deal with the same issue. She tried to care for her mother at home for as long as she could. They even built a self-contained suite onto their house for her, and brought in specialized care when she got worse. Rose was determined to keep her mother at home. But in the end, she needed round-the-clock care. It got to the point where she had few lucid days and no longer recognized her family. Plus, she began to have other medical problems that needed daily monitoring. The solution seemed pretty clear-cut to her friends, but Rose agonized over the decision. I’m not sure she ever reconciled herself to it.”
“I don’t think Michael’s mother was that bad.”
“Then you think David was lying?”
Caroline’s reaction was immediate. No, David wouldn’t lie. She didn’t know him very well, but he radiated honesty—and honor. Unless her powers of intuition were way off, David was a man you could count on to do the right thing.
“I can see on your face that you don’t,” her mother continued, when Caroline didn’t respond.
“To be honest, I don’t know what to think.”
Rising, Judy reached for Caroline’s plate, then picked up her own. “I always believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt. That young man has caring eyes. I can’t see him doing anything to hurt someone he loved. And remember...there’s always at least two sides to every story. Maybe you can ask him about it sometime, if it’s still on your mind. Now, how about some split lemon cake?”
It took Caroline a second to respond after the abrupt change in topic. “Sure. That would be great.”
“I made it this morning. I just love the combination of tart and sweet. It’s a perfect springtime dessert.”
And a perfect complement to her mood, too, Caroline reflected, recalling again the events that had led to Michael’s death. Even though he’d been in the marketplace because of her, she’d always believed—wanted to believe—that if he hadn’t been distracted by his argument with his brother, he might have sensed danger. And avoided it. So for two years, she’d had tart, almost bitter, memories of David. Yet in the past couple of weeks she’d seen glimpses of sweetness, of innate goodness, that had tempered her image of him, countered her resentment and anger, mitigated the sour taste that thoughts of him usually left in her mouth.
Until now, Caroline had always assumed that Michael’s position in regard to his mother had been the right one. That honor had been on his side because of his commitment to keep the vow they’d made to her. After all, Caroline had seen the woman herself mere weeks before. She couldn’t have degenerated that much in such a short time.
Could she?
It wasn’t a question Caroline had asked until now. She’d never allowed for the possibility that David might have made the right decision. But maybe he had. Maybe, if asked, he would explain his motivations. Her mother had even suggested she give him that opportunity.
There was just one little problem with that idea. Caroline never expected to see him again. What was the point? It just resurrected painful memories best left buried. So reaching out to him was not a good idea.
And she had the distinct impression that the feeling was mutual.
Chapter Five
“I think you’ll find the letter on top very interesting.” Ella set the morning mail in David’s In basket.
Focused on the computer screen in front of him, David reread the last line in his follow-up letter to Feldman and Associates, then sent Ella a distracted look. “Can it wait?”
“Sure. Jared probably figures you won’t respond, anyway. Kids in that kind of environment haven’t been programmed to expect much.”
Thoughts of Feldman and Associates vanished as David stared at her. “Jared wrote me a letter?”
“Yeah. How about that? I guess maybe he was more interested in Uplink than you thought.”
Flashing her a grin, David reached for the letter. “Thanks for not saying, ‘I told you so.’”
Shrugging, she turned away. But he caught a quick glimpse of the twinkle in her eyes. “I’ll save that for another time,” she told him.
She would, too, David thought with an affectionate chuckle. Ella had been a godsend as he’d plunged into his new job, her advice sound, her insights sure. She’d become a trusted advisor and a reliable sounding board, helping to make his transition far smoother than he’d anticipated.
The letter from Jared was typed, just as his essay had been, David noted. And again, his punctuation, spelling and syntax were flawless. But as he read the text, David realized that there was one significant difference between the two writing samples. This one had heart.
Dear Mr. Sloan: After our interview yesterday, I thought about your comment that I didn’t seem to have the commitment or drive or determination you look for in Uplink students. That you wanted students with dreams, who were willing to overcome any obstacles that might keep those dreams from coming true.
Well, I’ve had plenty of obstacles in my life. If you talked to Mr. Elliot about me, you probably know about some of them. But I figure the biggest obstacle to my success right now is me. I don’t trust a lot of people. Especially white folks. And they pick that up real quick, just like you did. I know I need to change my attitude, and I’m trying. As for hard work, I’m not afraid of that. Not if it will open doors. I don’t want to waste my life in the ghetto. I want to count for something, to make a difference, to leave a mark. And Uplink seems like a way to get me started on the right path. Maybe the only way.
When I left your office, though, I figured I’d blown it. That’s what I told my grandmother when I got home. And she sat me down and read me the riot act about my attitude. She said if I really wanted this, I should try again. That maybe you’d give me another chance. So that’s what I’m asking for, if it’s not too late. I know I haven’t been the best student, and that my commitment to school hasn’t been as strong as you might want. But if you give me this chance, I won’t disappoint you. I can work hard when I want to, and I don’t break my promises. I want this opportunity very much, and if you take me, I’ll give it my best shot.
Like I said when we met, I’m not very good at talking about my feelings. I guess I have to work on that, too. But for now, I hope you’ll accept them in writing. And that you’ll give me a second chance.
Thank you.
The letter was signed in Jared’s scrawling hand.
David leaned back in his chair. He’d never expected to hear from Jared again, but the image of the dejected, slump-shouldered boy had been on his mind ever since he’d watched him get on the bus three days before. And he’d been praying for him, asking God to help Jared find a way out of his present situation, to give him an opportunity to nurture his talent. Now God had put the ball back in his court.
With sudden decision, David reached for the phone and tapped in Steve Dempsky’s number. When he answered on the second ring, David gave him a quick recap of the situation, then asked for his input.
“It’s a bit sticky,” the minister acknowledged. “One of those things that could go either way.”
“I know.”
“If you brought this before the board, I doubt they’d be willing to sign Jared on.”
“I know that, too. But I don’t have to go to the board for this. I have the authority to choose the candidates for interviews.”
“How risky do you think this is? Could he jeopardize the program?”
Leaning back in his chair, David looked out at the flowering trees. “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. I do know he’s exactly the kind of student who needs Uplink the most.”
“What does your gut tell you about the risk?”
“Three days ago, after I interviewed him, I’d have said it was high. He has a real attitude problem that I knew none of our sponsoring companies would put up with. I’d more or less written him off. Then, when I saw him getting on the bus, he was the picture of dejection. And today I got the letter. I think he wants this, Steve. And I know he needs it.”
“Would you like me to talk to him?”
“I was hoping you’d offer. I know it’s still my decision, and I’ll take full responsibility for it, but I’d value your input.”
“Glad to help. Just have him give me a call.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
As David replaced the receiver, a sense of peace came over him. He still wasn’t sure what his decision would be. But he knew he would do everything he could to give the boy a chance. That’s what Uplink was supposed to be about. If Steve concurred that Jared was worth the risk, David would take it. And put the outcome in God’s hands.
* * *
“You want me to talk to a preacher?”
From the tone of Jared’s voice, you’d think he’d asked the boy to walk over hot coals barefoot, David reflected, a wry smile touching his lips. Their phone conversation had started off well enough, although Jared had seemed surprised that David had followed up on his letter. It was as if he’d expected nothing from the effort. Or hadn’t allowed himself to expect anything. Just as Ella had suggested. But at least his tone had been cordial, and it had been obvious that he was making an attempt to keep his attitude in check. Until David mentioned Steve.
“That’s right,” David affirmed. “He’s a member of the Uplink board and an old friend of mine. I value his opinion, and when he offered to speak with you I took him up on it.”
“Do you send all the Uplink candidates to talk to him?”
“No.” David decided that absolute honesty was the best way to proceed with Jared. He suspected the boy would respect that in the long run. “But your situation is a bit unique. In general, we wouldn’t consider someone with your GPA or attendance record. But as I said when we spoke before, I’m impressed with your talent. I think you have a lot to offer, assuming you buckle down. Your letter makes me think you’re willing to do that. But I want a second opinion.”
There was silence for a few seconds before Jared responded. “I’m not a religious kind of person.”
“Religion isn’t on the agenda for your meeting with Reverend Dempsky.”
“Then what’s he going to ask me about?”
“A lot of the same things I did.”
“And he won’t get into that Jesus stuff?”
“No. Uplink isn’t a Christian organization, even though it lives the gospel principles.”
There was a moment of silence while Jared thought about that. “Yeah, okay. I guess that’s fine. When does he want to talk to me?”
“You two can work that out. Just give him a call.” David recited Steve’s number while Jared jotted it down.
“What happens after that?”
David heard the anxious note in the boy’s voice. “We’ll be notifying all of the finalists by May first. There will be one more interview after that, with the sponsoring organization. The internships run ten weeks and start in early June. Do you have a portfolio of writing and photography samples, Jared?”
“No.”
“Put one together. It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just a collection of some of your best work. And include copies of the letters from your English and art teachers. I’d like you to show it to Reverend Dempsky, and you’ll need it for an interview with a sponsoring organization if we get that far.”
“Okay.”
“Any other questions?”
“No.”
“All right. I’ll talk to you soon, then.”
“Listen...thanks, okay? I—I didn’t really expect you to give me a second chance.”
That comment probably summed up the breadth of the boy’s experience, David thought with a pang. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Jared.”
“A lot of people don’t feel that way.”
“Well, Uplink does. Just make the most of it, okay?”
As David rang off, he wasn’t sure the board would agree with him about second chances. Not when it came to someone like Jared, who could be a high risk. But Michael had been a risk, too, when a mentor had stepped forward and taken a chance on him. It was something Michael had never forgotten, and he’d vowed someday to repay that debt by helping another young person. In the end, he’d never had the opportunity to follow through on that pledge. His life had been cut way too short, and despite Caroline’s confession, David still felt somewhat responsible for that. Perhaps, by fulfilling Michael’s vow for him, he could in some way make amends for any role he’d played in his brother’s death.
Still, he wasn’t going to take unnecessary chances or let his judgment be clouded by personal feelings. He had to do what was right for Uplink. But if Steve considered Jared to be a worthy candidate, David would take the boy on in a second.
* * *
“David? Steve. Got a few minutes?”
This was it. Jared was on spring break, and David knew Steve had met with him earlier in the day. His grip on the phone tightened, and the muscles in his shoulders bunched. “Yeah. How did it go?”
“Let me just say that I can see why you wanted a second opinion.”
Uh-oh. Not good. “You weren’t impressed?”
“I didn’t say that. He’s got talent, no question about it. He brought along a very impressive portfolio. But I picked up on the attitude, even though it was clear he was trying to keep it in check. Plus, I think he was very uncomfortable with the whole notion of talking to a minister. I tried to put him at ease, but I sensed a lot of wariness and suspicion.”
That sounded like Jared. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. His appearance. I could live with the dreadlocks. But I can’t see most of the organizations we work with allowing that kind of attire. Most of them have dress codes, and even though casual clothes are okay at a lot of places, his concept of casual falls way below that line. I know the Lord teaches us not to judge by appearances, but most businesses aren’t that forgiving.”
“We could work with him on that.”
“True.”
“Well, what do you think? Yea or nay on letting him into the program?”
“It’s not an easy call, is it?”
David could hear the uncertainty in his friend’s voice. “No.”
“I guess you’re just going to have to go with your heart on this one. I do think Jared wants this. But I also think he’s a risk. I talked with him a little about his gang ties, and he claims he’s cutting those, like his principal told you. That’s hard to do, though, and there’s no guarantee of success. And what if he gets into the program and then loses interest halfway through? Or can’t get along with his coworkers? Or does something worse? Did you check to see if he has a juvenile record?”
“Yeah. Charles Elliot, his principal, says he’s had a few minor brushes with the law, but there’s nothing on record. At this point, he’s officially clean.”
“Well, that’s good news, at least.”
David had hoped for a definitive opinion from Steve. But his friend’s feelings seemed as mixed as his own.
“What did you think of the photos?”
“Like I said, impressive. Even though the images are stark, there’s a certain optimistic quality to them that suggests...goodness, maybe. They make me think there’s a light deep in his soul, waiting to be released. Frankly, without the photos I suspect I’d write him off as too risky. But those pictures tugged at my heart.”
So Steve had noticed that, too. David had made it a point to keep his impressions about the photos to
himself, wondering if Steve would pick up on the same qualities he had, qualities that not only reflected Jared’s good eye for photography but also offered a window into his soul. Qualities that suggested the boy wasn’t quite as jaded as he might first appear, that there was a chance he could make something of his life, with assistance. The kind of assistance Uplink offered.
“They had the same effect on me,” David responded.
“What are you going to do?”
“Think about it. And pray.”
“Sounds like a good plan. I’ll support whatever decision you make.”
“Thanks.”
“Just one question. Where would you place him if you decide to take him on? I can’t think of any organization on our roster that would help him develop his writing and photography talent. Or take the time to give him the kind of personal attention I suspect he’ll need.”
Until now, David hadn’t let himself dwell on that issue. He’d been too busy to worry about a problem that might never materialize. But Steve was right. He needed to start thinking about lining up a spot for Jared if he was getting serious about taking the boy.
“The Post might work, but it’s such a big organization that I doubt he’d get the kind of one-on-one assistance he may need to blossom. I’ll have to find a new place,” David responded.
“It’s getting pretty late in the year to start recruiting new businesses.”
“I know.” In the end, the decision to take Jared might come down to whether they could find somewhere to place him.
“Well, let me know what you decide. Like I said, I’m with you either way.”
“Thanks, Steve. I’ll be in touch.”
As David replaced the phone, he’d already decided that Jared was a risk he was willing to take—if he could find a place where the boy would receive the kind of attention and support he would need to succeed. That was a big if. Most businesses were too busy to devote a lot of attention to a student intern. And too many of them just gave the teenagers busy work. David had addressed that issue with the offending organizations on Uplink’s roster after reading evaluations by previous participants. That had been the single biggest complaint by students, who were anxious to spread their wings and be exposed to new experiences. A few organizations hadn’t lived up to their end of the bargain.