Journey To Forever

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“Remember, I filled in for Michelle last night? We were short on copy, so I took this one from the top of the list.” She picked up the paper on her desk, turned to the article and waited while Misty read it.

Finally, Misty said, “This is a newspaper, not a periodical. Journalism is putting your own beliefs aside to tell the full story. That piece was not an editorial. Colin isn’t used to someone opposing his causes. That story told about the reasons the opposition is fighting the shelter going into their neighborhood. You didn’t do anything wrong. News is what sells papers. Is that what has you so blue tonight? He’s in the business. He should know that conflict is what sells papers.”

Nikki thought again of Colin Wright. Of his big smile, and those deep blue eyes that seemed to reach to the depths of her soul. How could she explain her mangled emotions to anyone without seeming like a spoiled rich girl?

Don’t do something stupid, Nikki. She’d had these low days before, and they always seemed to pass. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I thought I was going to be in trouble.”

“Nah! You’re going to have to get a thicker skin if you’re going to survive in this business, kid.”

Nikki laughed. Misty couldn’t be any more than five years older than she was. “Kid?”

Misty blushed. “Sounded good to remind myself that I’m not the new kid on the block anymore. You’re not the first to have a tough time with a the requirements of the job. We all go through it time and again. Some days it’s really tough to be a good employee and a Christian when it’s obvious that some journalists live for sensationalism. That’s probably what Colin wanted to think.”

Nikki looked at her friend’s bright face and returned the sympathetic smile. “Thanks, Misty. I feel like there’s just so much I don’t know about publishing.” Misty had taken Nikki under her wing from Nikki’s first day on the job. Even she hadn’t made the connection between Nikki and her grandfather, which would make it even more embarrassing that Nikki knew so little about the industry when people started figuring it out. She made a mental note to enroll in some journalism classes at the college next semester. She had put it off too long already. With a degree in business administration with an emphasis in nonprofit organizations, she’d thought Grandfather would find a job that matched her skills. Now I do sound like a spoiled rich girl.

“Take a break, Nikki. You’re way too hard on yourself. I don’t know what burdens you’re holding inside, but it’s time you cast them aside. Life is too full of opportunities to dwell on what’s already past.”

That would be wonderful advice, if she only knew how.

“Nikki, in my office, please,” the managing editor said as he walked past, a platter of food in front of him.

“Great, I told you I’d be in trouble.”

Chapter Five

“Close the door,” Paul said as Nikki stepped into his office.

So much for Misty’s encouragement. Nikki had made a big mistake, and now they were going to fire her. Even her grandfather couldn’t rescue her now.

“I understand Colin Wright called in and complained about the article on the home owners’ fight against the sale of the lot in their neighborhood.”

She nodded, wondering if he’d overheard her telling Misty about it, or if Colin had talked to Paul himself.

“I want to assure you that you wouldn’t have seen that story on the copyeditor’s list if it hadn’t been approved. Michelle is going to be out for a few more weeks and we think you’re ready to move up.”

“Really?”

Paul chuckled. “You can move your belongings into the desk behind Anne’s for now.”

“Now? Tonight?”

“Unless you have something better to do, Anne will start training you tonight.”

Nikki stood and sidestepped to the door. “Of course not. Thank you.”

She hurried to tell Misty, who smiled with that all-knowing attitude of hers. “Told you so. Before you know it you’ll be looking down from the corner office.”

She laughed nervously. “Hey, maybe I can jump right over the reporter stage of the internship.”

“Now you are dreaming,” Misty said, tossing her empty plate into the trash. “Enjoy the new job. I’ll miss your company.”

Nikki found a box and moved the contents of her desk to the new one down the hall. She and Anne worked closely for a few hours, then she settled into the layout for the next night’s feature stories. Within the week, Nikki was working independently on the earlier shift.

Four days later she was called to the managing editor’s office again. What could she have done this time?

She folded her hands in her lap and waited, glancing over her shoulder now and again. She caught a glimpse of Paul as he barreled toward his office, around the maze of desks. He took a deep breath, seated himself behind his desk and shuffled through the papers piled on top without saying a word. He pulled one from the stack and handed it to Nikki. “This explains the assignment far better than I could,” he said gruffly.

“Assignment?” That was a term normally reserved for the reporters, not editors.

He shrugged. “I had nothing to do with the decision. Read it for yourself.”

She read the memo with her name at the top and Grandfather’s signature at the bottom. Nikki’s heartbeat doubled, her voice faded to nothing. “But…why?”

“Don’t ask me. Apparently I’m just the messenger around here. Chapman took Amanda off the story and put you on. I guess today’s your lucky day. You’ll be working with Gary. He’ll keep up on the fight for the land here while you’re on the road. Meet with him in the morning to get started.” The managing editor snatched a stack of papers from his basket and stormed out of the door. “The way I understand it, you have a week until your new assignment, so let’s put tonight’s issue to bed before you get too excited.”

Excited was an overstatement. Terrified was more like it.

On her way back to her desk she avoided the temptation to look up at Grandfather Chapman’s office window, overlooking the cluttered desks below.

Everyone knew her simply as Nikki Post, intern and aspiring journalist. She had hoped the internship would be short-lived and she could jump right into the management office, which suited her personality far more. The business manager was long past retirement and Nikki was getting impatient waiting to move into the junior ranks for his position.

Yet while she wanted the business office job, she wanted to earn it on her own merits, not because she was the owner’s heir. That was the agreement, and if Grandfather felt she needed the internship to prepare her for the business world, she would trust him. But trusting him didn’t mean she would enjoy every step along the way.

During the past ten months she’d learned almost every aspect of the newspaper except one. Reporting. Even she hadn’t a clue why her grandfather had put her into this miserable situation. She stared at the assignment in disbelief.

Two weeks with Colin Wright, the man who had reached celebrity status more from raising money for charitable causes than because of his baseball career. Ironically, Colin was all she’d heard about on the news, the radio, and at work since the picnic at Jared and Sandra’s. She just wanted the fund-raiser to be over. Double that sentiment now. She thought she had figured out a guaranteed way to avoid him at the gym by going late in the afternoon when his talk show aired, but even that hadn’t worked. His voice met her at the gym door, as they played his show over the speaker system. Now it seemed her efforts were for naught.

Gary tossed his clipboard onto the stack of messages on his desk, sending loose papers flying. “Evening.”

She jumped. “Hi,” she all but whispered.

“I hear you’ve reached the pinnacle of your newspaper career.” Gary glanced at the mock-up for the next day’s paper and added it to the stack. “Congratulations. What’s the scoop?”

She didn’t dare tell the best reporter on Grandfather’s staff that she’d never written a publishable article in her entire life. Nor did she have any desire to do so now. Nikki wasn’t a journalist. She liked working behind the scenes—way behind the scenes. One day soon her grandfather would realize his mistake. Very soon. She looked down, wishing she had someone she could confide in. “You don’t know?”

He laughed. “Well, I understand we’re going to work together. Are you okay with that?” She nodded half-heartedly. Gary leaned against the desk and laughed at her answer. “Can’t be that bad, it’ll get you out of copyediting.”

Nikki liked copyediting. She’d even come to enjoy writing headlines. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it. I’m just not so sure I’m really ready for reporting.”

“I haven’t found the memo yet, what’s our assignment?”

Nikki cringed. “Some radio jock thinks he can make it from New Mexico to the Wyoming border in a week—no, that’s when we start…” she glanced at the memo again, noting the handwritten scribbles “…make that eight days for his relay deadline.”

“I heard rumblings of his latest stunt. Colin Wright, from WWJD radio, right?” Gary patted her shoulder and laughed. “Talk about a cushy first assignment. You’ll have some luxury motor home to travel in and the exclusive story that everyone and his dog will be following. The whole city could burn down and no one would care, but get Colin on the fund-raising committee, and the city stands at attention.” Gary went on, appearing to be irritated, yet impressed at the same time by the attention Colin received. “If any of the rest of us went down the Sixteenth Street Mall pushing a peanut with our nose, we’d be sent to the loony bin. He does it, and out come the TV crews and pocketbooks,” he said with a contagious laugh.

“So I’ve heard. Seems a little juvenile to me.”

“Just young at heart. Colin’s a good guy. The boss must like you.”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “Funny, I was wondering what I’d done to tick him off.” She couldn’t wait to find out exactly what Grandfather was thinking. They’d agreed that she wouldn’t be expected to write. She’d rather be running the business, not ruining it.

Unfortunately, her questions would have to wait until she got home, where there was no chance of anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. “Have a good day, Gary. I’m not on the beat till tomorrow. What time should I report?”

“Is eight too early?”

“Actually, I’m still on copyediting tonight. Could we make it eleven?”

“Sure, that’ll work fine. And don’t worry about this assignment, what could go wrong?”

Nikki returned to her desk and tried to regain her focus on the fourth page in the Faith section of the Friday paper, where the feature article was Colin and the fund-raiser. She just couldn’t seem to get away from him.

Little did Gary know how much could go wrong when it came to Nikki’s writing. Not that she didn’t like writing, but all she knew about the journalistic format was what she had learned from proofreading and copyediting.

Paul barked orders across the room and Nikki had no more trouble focusing on her current job. There were several aspects of her present life that she wouldn’t miss. Working when most everyone else was at home sleeping was one. Daily breakdowns of the presses wouldn’t be missed, either. Barking, over-stressed editors would definitely be third on the list.

At the end of her shift, Nikki slung the straps of her leather handbag over her shoulder and prepared to leave. She sensed Grandfather watching as she stepped into the dark morning, which was ridiculous; he was probably at home sound asleep right now.

“Good night, Miss Post,” the security officer said. “Would you like me to walk you to your car?”

Nikki forced a smile and shook her head. “Thanks, Wes, I’ll be careful.” Walking down the street to the economy lot, she was especially mindful of the corners that had become shelters for the homeless. When she reached the car she peered into the backseat, then looked around before inserting the key into the lock.

Nikki felt a chill on her neck, as if someone was watching her. She looked around as she tried to turn the key, but couldn’t see anyone. She jiggled the key every which way until it finally moved. She threw her purse and the memo into the passenger seat and scooted inside. Nikki slammed the door and locked it, vowing to buy a new car, with or without family money. Surely a reporter’s salary would allow her to get something more reliable than this.

When Grandmother had suggested she move to Denver after college, it was a perfect opportunity to avoid facing her parents’ disappointment. Until the day she had overheard her dance instructors talking, she hadn’t realized how pampered she had been growing up.

Her parents had encouraged and admired her every move, never accepting the fact that she wasn’t destined for greatness. She thrived on their praise, blinded by their vision for her. They were furious when she broke her engagement to Rory and went into denial when she had to give up dancing. Only then did she realize her problem wasn’t a lack of talent, but that she simply hadn’t found the right one yet.

Her grandparents had been the only ones who understood Nikki’s need to find her own way. She wanted to be loved for herself—not for her connections or her parents’ money.

Grandmother had been the one to suggest that Nikki not mention her family or their status in the community until she was ready to do so. It had worked so far. She hadn’t told a soul and she was feeling good about her friendships.

Still, when Grandfather had shown her this car, insisting that she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, she’d wanted to cry. There had to be a happy medium between this heap of junk and the collector-series convertible her parents had given her for her college graduation.

Thankfully, Grandmother had put her foot down when it came time to find Nikki an apartment. She found a small but comfortable condominium in a newer area that wouldn’t raise too many suspicions.

Nikki bit her lower lip and worried it between her teeth. As friendships grew stronger, she felt more uncomfortable holding back her identity, as if she should be ashamed of her family. If Colin’s opinion counted, maybe she should be.

The assignment rolled around in her mind, leading to more questions. Did Grandfather want her to go with Colin because she was family? Did he not trust Colin? And if so, what was her complete role in this? Watchdog? Relay police? Enforcer? She didn’t like the prospects at all. Colin Wright didn’t appear to be the type to want a woman telling him what he could and couldn’t do.

Grandfather didn’t know anything about the mishap at the barbecue, the flowers and card that Colin had sent the following week as an apology for ruining her clothes, or her struggle to forget the man.

How could she tell Grandfather that while she appreciated his encouragement she did not want this assignment? She might not know exactly what she did want to do with her life yet, but she didn’t need any hands-on experience to know that she wasn’t cut out to be a reporter. Had coming to work here been a mistake after all?

The many nicknames she’d heard for Grandfather over the last ten months came back to her. She’d seen enough to understand why some employees were unhappy with him. He had many decisions to make each day, and some, like assigning her to Colin Wright’s story, were without a doubt going to make someone unhappy. She sympathized wholeheartedly.

When she got home, her answering machine was flashing. Knowing it was probably her grandfather trying to reach her, she touched the play button and began changing into a tank top and cotton boxers then stretched out across the bed to rest before her morning run. Good thing today was a ten-miler. She needed it.

“Nicole, meet me at the house for breakfast in the morning. I want to explain this assignment to you.” The machine beeped to signify the end of her messages and Nikki drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke from her nap, she changed clothes, tied her running shoes and took off for her grandparents’ house. Eight miles later she entered the code into the security system and passed through the tall wrought-iron gate as it opened.

Grandfather met her at the door. “I don’t like you running at this time of day by yourself, Nicole. You never know who could be watching you.”

She lifted her right hand to reveal a can of Mace, and a cell phone dangling from the left one. “I’m careful.” Nikki leaned forward to give him a kiss, wondering if he had seen someone hanging out at the newspaper recently. Don’t be ridiculous, Nik, it’s just your imagination, she thought. “I was shocked by your memo. I thought we agreed I’d somehow skip over the reporter phase of the internship.”

He patted her shoulder. “Not even any small talk this morning?” He nodded. “I know you don’t want to write, but I need you on this assignment, Nicole.”

She opened a bottle of spring water and poured it over ice in a crystal goblet. “I wouldn’t know where to start to write an article for a newspaper. Especially for one the size of the Gazette.”

Grandfather looked at her with such astonishment that she was ashamed of herself for disagreeing with him. “I trust you, Nicole. You won’t let me down.”

“I simply don’t want to embarrass you, Grandfather. I know there’s a lot riding on Colin finishing the stunt, and I’ve never written anything for publication.”

Grandmother joined them then, carrying a platter of fresh fruit. “Morning, Nicole. This is quite a treat to have you here for breakfast today.”

Nikki followed Grandmother to the kitchen to help serve the rest of the meal. “It came as quite a surprise to me as well, but at least a nice one. You do know what’s happened, don’t you? Grandfather has assigned me to write articles on Colin Wright’s fund-raiser!”

Grandmother handed Nikki a homemade quiche and followed with a basket of pastries and a pitcher of juice. “You’ll do just fine, darling. Sometimes it’s good to stretch ourselves.”

“Is that what you call this? Stretching myself? Humph.” Nikki set the pie plate onto the trivet and seated herself between her grandparents. Grandmother said a quick blessing, barely squeezing it in before Grandfather continued to discuss her assignment.

“I’m not kidding when I say I have no clue how to write an article, Grandfather.”

“You read the newspaper every day. You’re a bright girl…” Every insecurity from her childhood returned with that one phrase, bright girl. She’d heard it often enough from her teachers, her dance instructors and even her parents. It had turned out to mean she wasn’t the most intelligent girl in the class, nor the most talented dancer, and she’d better find another means of support. She nibbled on her quiche and bypassed the temptation to drown her sorrows with a Danish.