Two reams of paper and a printer were prepared for the computer team, who would be going out on their rounds an hour later.
Sara was working hard, throwing her energies behind this dream that Liz Stone and her sister had brought to reality. Even a small ride, errand or home visit touched the lives of those in the program, and she had never enjoyed anything more in her life.
Sara’s fingers opened, smoothing the gentle curve of her stomach where Deputy Sheriff Jesse McCloud’s baby was now in its sixth month. This was her home now.
Someone kissed the top of her head. She smiled, closing her eyes. “Charly, I told you not to kiss me like that. Jesse will—”
She heard a muffled laugh. Jesse drew her around to face him, carefully sliding his arms around her waist. “Am I going to have to get medieval on you and Charly, Mrs. McCloud?”
“I think he’d be very excited by the thought of sparring for a few rounds with you, my love, but Rosa wouldn’t like it, so let’s just keep this secret affair between us.”
Jesse smiled and kissed her as if it was the first time. As if they had all the time in the world.
Which they did.
But when he looked at the boxes stacked around her, the tall officer frowned. “You’re working too hard, Sara. You should be resting.”
Hannah bustled up behind them with a grinning Deputy Rodriguez in tow. “That’s what I’ve been telling her all week, Jesse. You’re her husband. Can’t you talk some sense into my sister?”
Jesse smiled faintly. “I may be able to.” He took the boxes of printer paper and gave them to Miguel. “You two can finish prepping for the rounds today. We’ll be back in three hours to help you plan next week’s visits. Right now, I want to spend some quiet time with my wife. And daughter.”
“Son or daughter,” Sara corrected him. They didn’t know the baby’s gender, preferring to keep a little magic in their child’s upcoming birth.
“Daughter,” Jesse murmured. He turned, his brow rising at the sound of wild barking from the back of his pickup truck. Marlow was braced against one side of the truck bed, paws up and tail wagging. Clearly, he was ready to work, too.
“What’s on Marlow’s schedule for today?” Jesse asked.
Hannah checked her clipboard. “He’s going to visit two homes outside Sedona. Then a tracking demonstration at an elementary school.” Hannah smiled proudly. “After that he’s being interviewed by a reporter from New York. It seems he heard about Marlow’s work here and his bravery in the rescue last year up at Eagle Crossing. The reporter also wants to take some pictures of the people who donate services to Home and Heart.”
Liz peered out from her office, beaming. “Are you sitting down, everyone? We just received a contribution from an anonymous donor in California. He saw the feature story about Marlow and the agency last week, and he’s sent us a six-figure check.”
“Way to go, Marlow.” Jesse went outside, bent next to the truck and gave a high five to the excited dog.
When Sara moved in beside him, Marlow gave her a high five, too.
Strange how comfortable a place could seem after just one year, she thought, studying Jesse’s rugged profile. But she’d never felt more energetic or alive. She had taken some of her best photographs in the past two months, and one had received an international award. That black-and-white shot of snow dusting Eagle Crossing Canyon was going on exhibit in Paris the following summer.
Paris.
A car horn rang out. Two more volunteers were arriving. There was work to be done.
Jesse pointed to the picnic lunch he’d packed and the blanket spread out at the edge of the mesa. “You can see for fifty miles from here,” he said. “I thought you needed to stop and eat.” His mouth curved. “And plan your next set of photographs. The way I see it, you’ll be showing in China next, and I’ve always wanted to climb the Great Wall.”
He had encouraged and nagged and supported her every step of the way. He was almost more proud of the award than she was, Sara thought.
As Marlow settled down beside them and the wind ruffled the tall grass at the edge of the mesa, she knew exactly what it felt like to be home.
Dear Reader,
A first view of Sedona is something you never forget. Walking the high canyons in crisp, cool air is exhilarating, even close to magical. Those who have visited this beautiful corner of the rugged Southwest seldom forget it. What better place than a town with red-rock vistas and stubborn, supportive residents for setting a story of discovery, hope and service?
As I researched this novella, the work of Barbara Huston and her dedicated team at Partners In Care touched me on many levels. For years, my mother and father both did private work with older adults in our county. Growing up, I had clear memories of my mother receiving a phone call, speaking quietly, then moving to her desk and pulling out one of a dozen files organized with her ever-changing list of government agencies, private donors or faith-based support centers. In her quiet way she touched many lives through those calls.
Now, years later, I am delighted to write about Barbara’s work with service exchange, a tool that empowers older adults to remain independent with community support in the home of their choice. Barbara’s skill is to take this innovative concept and build an ever-widening network of support.
Successful? You decide.
In the first half of 2009, Partners In Care’s 2,600 volunteer members exchanged over 25,000 hours in services. They installed 103 pieces of home safety equipment and provided 6,457 rides to doctors and grocery stores. They’ve repaired homes, organized neighborhood social events and provided medical advocacy.
Barbara has a special gift for positive action. She is a firm believer that everyone has something to contribute and is valued for those contributions. With drive and resourcefulness she has created a way for older adults to live safely and independently with the support of a growing network of members. I am in awe of her dedication and enthusiasm.
To learn more about Partners In Care, visit their Web site at www.partnersincare.org. I’m sure the enthusiastic faces and the stories of the members will touch you just the way they touched me. Please consider becoming involved with donations or a contribution. With your support the network can keep on growing with all the warmth and beauty of a Sedona sunset.
With warmest wishes,
Christina Skye
LARA TAVARES
Sky’s the Limit Youth Organization
It’s hard to imagine walking thirty minutes through winter sleet after dark just to send an e-mail. It’s also difficult to imagine watching some students get effortless As and Bs in class while for others it’s a struggle just to find a computer with a decent printer or to do Internet research without having to wait in line. For most of us, restricted access to a reliable, convenient computer is unthinkable in an age when facts, data and communicating with friends and colleagues seems to be at our fingertips instantly.
It’s assumed that most students in middle and high school have a computer to complete assignments, so those without one find it difficult to finish homework, and they fall behind, resulting in an education gap that has nothing to do with aptitude or attitude. Some people call this polarization of society into two extreme groups—those with access to technology and those without—the “digital divide.” And eliminating it has never seemed more important.
Lara Tavares, founder and CEO of Sky’s the Limit Youth Organization in Toronto, Ontario, is making it her mission to shrink, if not eliminate, the digital divide for Canadian students. Sky’s the Limit raises funds to purchase refurbished computers and then gives them to students from under-resourced communities. The organization also offers mentoring and tutoring programs to help these students complete reports, send e-mails and learn how to do online research. This final step is important, says Lara.
“You don’t want to just give them a computer and say, ‘Have a nice day.’ You want to be sure they know how to use it and know how to surf the Internet in
a safe, responsible way,” she says.
Paying it forward
Since the founding of Sky’s the Limit six years ago, Lara and her network of twenty volunteers have placed more than 1,800 computers with kids from Toronto to Ottawa and from Fredericton, New Brunswick, to the Shawanaga First Nation reservation near Parry Sound, Ontario. And the orders just keep flooding in.
In fact, the charity’s growth has been so phenomenal that it has been difficult to meet the needs of so many, says Lara. “I’d love to see the day when there’s no need for Sky’s the Limit anymore,” she says. “But society isn’t really going that way.”
At thirty-eight years old, Lara says her own history with the computer began well before that of most of her friends. She grew up in Kanata, Ontario, where her dad worked at a tech company, Digital Equipment Corporation, and he often brought her to work to show her around.
“At that time the computer was the size of a room!” she says with a laugh.
The family also bought an early computer for their home, and soon Lara was spending hours in the basement using it for school projects and fiddling around with the technology. After studying fine arts at Concordia University in Montreal, Lara started working in the private, public and eventually the nonprofit sector doing Web design. Her spare time was dedicated to volunteering.
It didn’t take her long to realize that she was spreading her talents too thin, however. So after some brainstorming and soul-searching, Lara hit on an idea that would change the trajectory of many, many lives. She decided to take her two passions, volunteerism and computers, and blend them to create Sky’s the Limit.
“I thought, ‘This can’t be an original idea. I’m sure there’s already an organization doing this and I’ll just go volunteer with them.’ But I couldn’t find anything like it in Canada and I thought that was silly. There were thousands and thousands of kids in Canada who needed a computer,” says Lara.
She decided to give the project three years to see if she could make a go of it, but very quickly Lara realized that for Sky’s the Limit, the sky really was the limit.
“People were just responding to it so enthusiastically,” she says.
Helping students in need
“Enthusiastic” doesn’t come close to describing how many of the kids feel when a Sky’s the Limit volunteer hands them a desktop computer and teaches them how to use it. It’s a life-changing moment.
Lara remembers helping one student, Jeffery, who was only a year away from graduating high school when his parents decided to take him out so he could clean floors and contribute to the family income. A concerned teacher contacted Sky’s the Limit to see what they could do. Soon Jeffery had his own computer to work on over the summer so he could complete his last few credits.
Another young student from Toronto’s under-resourced Regent Park neighborhood moved away to a safer area after a rash of shootings. Not wanting to leave her school and friends, however, she took the commuter train into the downtown core every day. Soon the girl was volunteering at Sky’s the Limit so she could upgrade her desktop to a laptop in order to do her homework on the train.
But it’s one young woman, Grace, whom Lara remembers best. Grace, who has some minor physical challenges, received a computer a few years ago, but when she tried to enter the workforce, no one would give her a job.
“She’s an amazing person and it was crazy that she was considered unhireable. So we hired her,” says Lara. “I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it would come so soon!”
Many people ask Lara why the organization doesn’t give students new computers. Using refurbished machines, some of which are only six months old, just makes sense, she answers. Not only are they cheaper so more can be bought and distributed, it’s also the greener option and keeps them out of landfills. “Two hundred and thirty pounds of fossil fuels go into creating a new computer, so if you give a kid a refurbished computer, that’s great,” she says.
Looking into the future
Even when Lara is on a much-deserved vacation in California, her work is only an arm’s length away. As she watches the ocean waves crash around surfers and swimmers, she’s researching and writing proposals to generate the money she needs to buy more computers to meet the ever-increasing demand.
She likes writing proposals, helping to show other people why Sky’s the Limit is such an important resource for Canadian communities. Because when a computer is installed in a child’s home, other people, including family and friends, finally have access, too.
It’s a job Lara loves, so her next goal is to try to expand Sky’s the Limit across Canada and get as many computer keyboards under children’s fingertips as she can.
“This is it. This is my life’s work,” she says. “I feel very fortunate that I figured out what I was put on the planet to do when I was young and had the resources and the energy to do it.”
For more information, visit www.stlonline.org, or write to Sky’s the Limit Youth Organization, 20 Eglinton Ave. East, Suite 230, Toronto, ON, M4P 1A9, Canada.
ROCHELLE ALERS
NO LIMITS
ROCHELLE ALERS
Rochelle Alers has been hailed by readers and booksellers alike as one of today’s most prolific and popular African American authors of romance and women’s fiction.
With more than fifty titles and nearly two million copies of her novels in print, Ms. Alers is a regular on the Waldenbooks, Borders and Essence bestseller lists, often chosen by Black Expressions Book Club, and has been the recipient of numerous awards, including a Gold Pen Award, an Emma Award, a Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing, an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award and a Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award.
She is a member of the Iota Theta Zeta Chapter of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., and her interests include gourmet cooking and traveling. She has traveled to Europe, and countries in North, South and Central America. Her future travel plans include visits to Hong Kong and New Zealand. Ms. Alers is also accomplished in knitting, crocheting and needlepoint. She is currently taking instruction in the art of hand quilting.
Oliver, a toy Yorkshire terrier, is the newest addition to her family. When he’s not barking at passing school buses, the tiny dog can be found sleeping on her lap while she spends hours in front of the computer.
A full-time writer, Ms. Alers lives in a charming hamlet on Long Island.
CHAPTER ONE
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you back to Pearl’s, Miss Kendra?”
Smiling at the octogenarian, Kendra Reeves slipped several teachers’ guides into her leather tote. Malachi Simpson was the oldest student in the literacy program that she ran under the auspices of the Greater Community Church Outreach.
“No, thank you, Mr. Simpson. I can make it home okay.”
“Home” wasn’t the palatial oceanfront Miami Beach manor house where she’d lived for six years, but a simple furnished apartment on the third story of the house above her grandparents’ restaurant, known affectionately as Pearl’s Kitchen.
“Are you sure?” he asked again.
Her smile grew wider. “I’m very sure. Thank you for offering.”
She didn’t mind the walk—it was only three blocks from the church to her apartment. Besides, it was an unusually warm spring night, and no doubt residents of the close-knit Chicago South Side neighborhood would be outdoors enjoying the seventy-degree temperatures, welcome after a brutal winter with snowfall accumulations that had eclipsed Buffalo.
She and her brother, Kenneth, were fourth-generation Chicagoans, and even when she had lived in Miami, Kendra had made it a practice to return at least twice each year to the city known for its lake-effect storms, frigid temperatures, deep-dish pizza and the venerable Chicago hot dog.
So when she decided to leave Miami and all the unhappiness it represented, there was no question that she would return to Chicago. But she hadn’t returned to a traditional teaching position. Instead she had volunteered to te
ach remedial classes on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. The church’s pastor had asked Kendra to fill in for the regular literacy teacher when she went to California to visit her daughter. A two-week stay had been extended to four, and when the retired widow did return, she had announced she was relocating to San Diego. So Kendra had agreed to teach the class on a more permanent basis. She enjoyed helping high school dropouts earn their GED. It meant she didn’t have to work with children, and she could be connected to the church.
Community suppers, sweet-sixteen and birthday parties, wedding and anniversary receptions and an occasional fundraiser had been held in the Greater Community Church over its ninety-year history. The house of worship had begun as a small wooden structure with a fledgling membership of ten that included the pastor and his family. But as the membership had grown, the structure had been expanded to accommodate the waves of blacks coming North during the “Great Migration,” looking to escape Jim Crow and factory work. And now it was helping her and her students.
Kendra anchored the straps of her tote over her shoulder and exited the building, nodding to longtime residents sitting on the front steps or porches of their modest homes as she walked by, recognizing a few teenagers she’d known as students early in her teaching career. Kendra wasn’t certain how she did it, but she was able to recall the names and faces of most of the children who’d been in her classes.
“How are you doing, Jamal?” she asked a young boy with baggy jeans, brand-new designer sneakers and, despite the warm weather, a thick hoodie covering his head.
More Than Words, Volume 6 Page 22