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“When are you going to let me drive your bike?” Dominic asked, his admiring gaze on the Honda Cruiser.
“The day you get your motorcycle license. How did the permit test go?”
Dominic’s shoulders sagged. “Not so great.”
What a drag. He’d been hoping the boy’s third try would be a success. “Don’t worry about it. Next time. You got your road rules book here?”
Dominic nodded unenthusiastically.
“Great. We’ll work on it again today.” Wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders, he ushered him back inside the community hall.
To his right, a group of volunteers played basketball with some twelve-to fourteen-year-olds and on his left, at the computer stations, members of the Turnaround program were helping an older teen update his résumé.
Since starting the program nine months ago, they had placed eight kids with local jobs. Noah prayed the government funding for the program continued beyond this first term the city had agreed to as a test.
Brookhollow was a quiet, peaceful town, but that didn’t mean there was enough work to go around and that nobody had any problems.
Noah had grown up in a small town very much like this. He knew firsthand what it was like to be a kid from a family that never had enough. And to have parents who...well...who didn’t know how to cope with raising a child. He swallowed hard, squeezing Dominic’s shoulder before dropping his hand.
This program was there for kids who needed the support they weren’t getting at home, kids who were deemed troublemakers by school officials and who were never given a chance to move beyond their circumstances.
From inside the office, Joanne was signaling for him. He nodded and turned to Dominic. “Why don’t you find a table and get started? I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Okay, but I really think a hands-on approach would help me learn better.”
“Nice try, but your road test will be done with a car, not a motorcycle. Not exactly the same thing.”
Inside the office, Joanne Kelly greeted him with a warm smile, then an immediate, “Bad news.”
“Fantastic, I love starting the day with bad news. Means the day can only get better. Let’s hear it.”
Picking up a letter from the desk, she handed it to him. “The National Crime Prevention Strategy has denied our application for funding.”
“Again? I thought we jumped through all the hoops this time. How can they continue to deny the funding? This program is designed to do exactly what they’re hoping to accomplish at a community level—reduce the number of kids in the criminal justice system.”
Noah took the letter and scanned it quickly for the reason. “Lack of sufficient regulations on the program.” Again.
He tossed the paper onto the desk and sat in the chair across from Joanne. “I don’t know what else to do. We have the New Jersey parole officers on board making sure these kids get to the programs three times a week to meet with their mentors...you’re on staff now...” He shrugged.
“I’m a volunteer on loan from Mentor’s partnership program. You need full-time staff. A social worker would be a good start...a real teacher to oversee the tutoring...”
“These kids’ grades have improved significantly with the help of mentors. And I’ve tried to get real teachers involved. No one has the extra time to give to the program,” he said harshly.
Noah saw through the excuses: no one saw the value in the program. How was that even possible? He was convinced they were helping the kids who’d enrolled.
Weren’t they?
He shook his head in disgust. Now was not the time to start having doubts. He would just have to find a better way to prove that the community center mentorship helped change lives for the better.
“Hey, I’m not the enemy here,” Joanne chided softly. “I’m just trying to explain why the funding keeps getting denied.”
He ran a hand over his short hair. “I’m sorry. I just don’t get it. Without funding, I can’t hire accredited staff, and without them, I can’t get funding.”
It had been an uphill battle to even get the nine-month trial approved on the program without regular, accredited staff in place, but he’d assured the city official he’d met with that he was working on it. He was. Joanne had been a good start. Of course, she was correct. She was only on loan and volunteering her time; for how long, he didn’t know.
Joanne hesitated, twirling a strand of her bright red hair around her finger.
A nervous habit of hers. Great, there was more she wasn’t saying. He waited.
“It gets even worse,” she said finally.
“So much for my theory of it only getting better,” he mumbled.
“The city sent a letter informing us the Turnaround funding would only be extended until the end of the month...they say the program hasn’t produced enough significant results to warrant their support beyond that.”
“Not enough significant...” Noah stood with his hands on his hips, fighting to control his anger. Joanne was just the messenger. He wouldn’t take his frustration out on his only real supporter.
He took a calming breath before saying, “How can they say that taking eight kids off the street isn’t significant enough?” One of the eight had even returned to finish high school at nights.
“Because last month, twenty kids in New Jersey were incarcerated. Unfortunately it’s a numbers game, Noah. We have to prove the program is working. And now I’m going to say something that will probably make you even more angry, but I’m going to say it anyway.”
He waited. What he both appreciated and hated about the woman was her blunt candidness. He suspected today he was going to hate it.
“You need to be here more. If this program has any hope of success, it needs you. The volunteer mentors are trying, but they need direction and guidance.”
He knew she was right. He’d started the program when he’d met Dominic. The boy had been walking home with a bleeding lip and tears in his eyes. After much prying, the boy had told him that the injury was a result of him refusing to participate in a gang initiation break-and-enter at an abandoned warehouse outside town.
Noah’s admiration of the boy’s courage and strength to do the right thing had sparked a fire in him to help kids like Dominic find alternatives to a criminal path. Kids who wanted to do the right thing but couldn’t find a way out of the trouble they were involved in.
Kids like him at sixteen.
In less than a year he’d grown the after-school mentoring and outreach program to fifteen student volunteers three times a week, each paired with two at-risk youth in the community. The mentors were potential at-risk older teens who’d found purpose and direction in helping younger kids.
The motto of the program was “We are all on the same journey, just at different points.”
The common stories shared between mentors and mentees brought them closer and instilled confidence and respect in the younger kids. Noah shared his own story of going down the wrong path with these kids over and over in the hope of being a role model for these children.
The only real problem was that the program was growing at the same time as his fighting career. Something he hadn’t fully considered.
As much as he knew how important his direct involvement was to the future success of the program, he couldn’t be in more than one place at once and his training was important, too.
“I’ll figure something out.”
Joanne didn’t look convinced as she nodded. “Okay, what do I do in the meantime?”
“Please keep reapplying for the funding. The worst they can do is keep saying no, right?”
When she opened her mouth to respond, he shook his head. “Don’t answer that.”
He knew that wasn’t the worst they could do. In truth, without the proper regulations in place and a permanent on-staff director who could be held responsible for the program, the city could shut it down at any time.
Opening the office door, he joined Dominic at his table.
If nothing else, he was going to help this kid get his driver’s license.
* * *
LINDSAY ALL BUT ran from one examination room to the other where patients were waiting far too long to see a physician. Some kid had come back from an early summer vacation in France with a bad case of chicken pox and had succeeded in infecting the rest of Brookhollow Elementary with the disease.
Sixteen confirmed cases and counting already that day. Itchy, irritable children were bad, but they were nothing compared to the group of men who’d come in contact with poison ivy on a hunting trip.
People scratching themselves every which way she turned would have been almost funny, if she wasn’t so exhausted. Like most medical facilities in small towns, Brookhollow’s clinic provided a wide range of services and ran on a skeleton crew. Which was usually okay, until an outbreak occurred. Then the staff was expected to work double shifts and no one came out of days like this in a good mood.
She grabbed the next file from the reception desk.
Great, one of the grumpy men. At least he was the last of that group. “Mike, you can follow me,” she said, noticing Noah waiting near the clinic door. The small space was at standing-room capacity. “You here to pick up your results?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Don’t worry, I can wait.”
“Thanks. Give me a few minutes,” she said as she led Mike to an exam room. “Dr. McCarthy will be a few minutes. Try not to scratch.”
She shut the door and headed down the hall toward the file cabinets. Noah’s MRI results had come in that morning. He was all clear to fight, and she wasn’t sure why the positive results annoyed her. Of course, she’d never want anything to be seriously wrong with him...or any of her patients, but if only there was enough reason not to provide medical clearance.
Picking up the letter from Dr. McCarthy and a copy of the results to send to the fight committee, she went back to the desk and nodded for Noah to come forward.
“I could have waited.”
She shook her head. “We’re trying to limit wait times for anyone not here with chicken pox. The last thing we need is an adult outbreak.”
The clinic door opened and Victoria waddled in.
Oh, no. “Give me a sec,” she told Noah. Rushing toward the front door, she ushered Victoria back outside, reaching for a bottle of hand sanitizer as she went. “No! No! Get out...”
Victoria frowned as they walked into the hot sun. “What are you doing? I have a checkup with Dr. McCarthy today and I have to pee.” Her eyes widened as she held her baby bump. “This kid is using my bladder as a trampoline.”
“We will have to reschedule and you’ll have to pee somewhere else.” Lindsay took Victoria’s hands and pumped the sanitizer on them. “There’s an outbreak of chicken pox in there.”
Victoria immediately took several steps away from the clinic, furiously rubbing her hands. “Is it serious?”
“Sixteen cases so far today.”
Victoria moved farther away from her.
“I’m fine. Nathan and I had them as kids. Mom sent us to go play with Jonathan Turner when he had them one summer.” Lindsay had had to miss Brownie summer camp that year and instead had been stuck in the house all week with Nathan.
She could understand the logic now, but try explaining it to an eight-year-old who missed summer camp.
“Anyway, let’s rebook your appointment for next week...” She paused, remembering what Rachel had said about Victoria passing out. “You know what, I’ll stop by your house tomorrow morning and take your blood pressure and some routine tests.”
“Since when does the clinic do house calls?” Victoria eyed her suspiciously. “Rachel told you I passed out, huh?”
Okay, her sister-in-law couldn’t blame this one on her.
“Yes. She was worried about you.”
“Who else knows?”
Lindsay suppressed a sigh. She deserved that. Her reputation around town as the local one-stop-gossip-shop wasn’t entirely baseless. She did like to gossip...as long as it didn’t hurt anyone. “I filed it under patient confidentiality. Now, go home and rest and I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”
“Thanks, Lindsay.”
Parked in the visitor space, Luke jumped down from the driver’s side of the truck when he saw his wife approach. He frowned, but then waved to Lindsay once Victoria explained the situation to him.
She smiled and watched Luke lift Victoria into the passenger seat.
That should have been her, she couldn’t help but think. Oh, well, maybe someday... Well...not someday with Luke, but someday with someone else. Someone better.
Yeah, right, as if that were possible.
Back inside the clinic, she returned her attention to Noah. “Sorry about that.”
“What was that? I mean, it’s no secret Vic’s not your favorite person, but kicking her out of the clinic is kind of harsh, don’t you think?” He smiled as he leaned against the counter.
Lindsay laughed for the first time that day as she pushed his arms away from the counter. “Seriously, this place is infested, don’t touch anything,” she said, disinfecting the counter with sanitizer wipes for the millionth time and handing him the sanitizer, which he refused. “And I sent Victoria away because she’s pregnant and the virus can harm an unborn child.”
“Oh, wow, didn’t know that.”
She flipped through his paperwork to make sure everything was there. “So, everything came back normal and you’re cleared to fight.” She’d delivered the good news through clenched teeth.
He took the paperwork. “Why do you disapprove of fighting so much?”
She was sure they’d had this conversation already. “It’s pointless and brutal. Two men hitting each other... I guess I don’t see how that can be considered a sport.”
“There is technique involved,” he said. “And a lot of training and conditioning...”
“I’m sure there’s more to it than I know.” Or want to know. She picked up the next file. “As fascinating as I’m sure it is, I have to get back to work.”
“What are you doing later?” He blocked her path to the waiting area.
“Working.”
“You’ve used that lie already.”
She pointed to the crowded waiting room. “It’s hardly a lie.” Today.
He grinned. “Okay, so what you’re saying is if you didn’t have to work tonight, you’d have dinner with me?”
“Not at all. What I’m saying is, if I didn’t have to work tonight, I would need to come up with a lie.”
