Unwanted Fate (9 page)

I take another deep breath and reflect on everything I have today, everything I’ve accomplished and in all conscience, he’s why I am where I am today. His words, actions, lack of involvement fuels the rage that tries to consume me every second of the day. Instead of letting it take over the rage, the hate has driven me to be successful because I have to prove to myself daily that I’m nothing like he says I am. I’m not some insignificant, worthless, child. I’m a man, a very successful man.

The rages calms down, but the silence still begs for his voice to replay in my mind and my body still craves a drink. I won’t allow it. There’s no room in my head for his words, for him, and I shouldn’t let alcohol consume me like his words. I need to get out of this office for a few moments. I need fresh air. I get out of my chair with haste, pushing it backwards so hard that it hits the window with a reverberating thud.

I open the door and see that Kristin hasn’t returned yet, and I walk out of my office, shutting the door behind me. As I walk passed Kristin’s desk, the phone rings. I look down and see it’s my line. I pick up the receiver and push the button to answer the call.

“Patrick Matheson.”

“Um, hi, Mr. Matheson. It’s Emily Janes from Project Hope.”

“Hello, how can I help you?” All thoughts of my father vanish.

“I was calling to schedule a meeting with Kristin, but I guess I dialed you by accident?” she says, sounding embarrassed.

“No, you dialed the right number. I was by her desk and answered the phone.”

“Oh. Well, I was hoping to talk to you anyways.”

“Give me a few moments. Let me go into my office.”

“Okay.” Her reply is almost a whisper.

I put the call on hold and walk into my office, closing the door behind me. The silence has left the room, no longer toying with me.

“Ms. Janes?” I ask after picking up my phone.

“Yes.”

“What would you like to discuss?”

“Well, how serious were you about donating more money to the center?” she asks hesitantly.

“I don’t offer money just to be kind, Ms. Janes. I do it because I’m in a position that I’m able to help. So to answer your question, Yes, I was very serious.” That comes out a little harsh.

“Oh. I guess I’ll cut to the chase then. A grant we’ve received every year for the past five years has dried up. We are getting zero from it after being told we would receive a hundred thousand.” Oh, that’s all she needs

“So you need a hundred grand?”

“Yes.”

“Give me two hours and I’ll be over to discuss details.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can schedule a time.”

“I did. I’ll see you around three.”

“Ah, well. Okay. Thank you, Mr. Matheson.”

“Welcome, Ms. Janes.”

I hang up the phone and prepare to leave for the afternoon. Maybe this day will be better after all.

“K
ristin?” I bark through the intercom, hoping she’s at her desk.

“Yes, I just got to my desk,” Kristin’s caring voice replies.

“Clear my schedule. I’m going to meet with Emily Janes at Project Hope at three.”

“Done. Will you be in this evening?”

“No, I’ll head home after my meeting.”

“Have a good night, Patrick. And please try to get some rest.”

“Will do. You too, Kristin.”

I pull out my briefcase, put all my working files in the matte black leather case, and close it with a click. I turn off the screen on my computer and before I head out the door, I glance at the clock again, and I have two hours to get to the southwest side of Reno.

The community center today looks completely different from the community center I was at on Friday when I pull into the parking lot. All the décor, extra tables and chairs, games, and canopy are gone, and in their place is bare ground with sparse grass.

I park off to the side of the building and wait a few moments before getting out. I’m almost an hour early—I hope she doesn’t mind. I check my email, trying to kill a few more minutes, but I run out of time consuming tasks so I turn off my car and head in the building.

My eyes take a few moments to adjust to the dimly lit hallway void of light from the bright sun. I walk into the main office and don’t see anyone that screams
I’m the receptionist
. A lady in her mid-forties looks up from the computer screen and smiles.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, I’m here to meet with Emily Janes.”

“She’s with a client right now, if you would like to have a seat in a chair behind you, she’ll be with you as soon as she can.”

“Thank you.” I turn to find the seats behind me are semi-broken down. They look like that might be from an era before I was born. I sit down and pull out my phone. Reading the emails, I didn’t read out in the car. I glance up and see the lady eyeing me under her lashes. I chuckle to myself and resume reading my mail.

Ten minutes later, I hear a door open and I hear Emily’s voice.

“I’ll let you know for sure, Mrs. Smith. I’ll be in touch soon,” she says kindly. Then I see the woman she was talking to, she has to be in her late sixties or older.

“Thank you, dear. Have a good one,” she says as she hobbles out the door.

I look at Emily, and she looks radiant. She’s wearing a charcoal gray shirt with a matching jacket and a white blouse under the it. Her three inch heels put a dent in our height difference.

“Mr. Matheson, you’re early.” She looks surprised to see me here already.

“Traffic wasn’t that bad.” I give her a small smile.

“That’s good. Would you like anything to drink: coffee, water or soda?”

“Sure. Coke or Pepsi?”

“Coke products.”

“A Coke is fine.”

She smiles. “I’ll be right back.”

She walks down a hallway opposite from the direction she came and is gone a few moments before reappearing with two Cokes.

“This way, please.” She stands a few feet from me, waiting for me to stand up and follow her. She turns and I follow her nice ass all the way into her office. “Please have a seat,” she says as she sets the Cokes on her desk and shuts the door behind me.

“Thank you for the drink.”

“No problem. Thank you for coming over today.”

“I’m hoping you have time to help me out too.”

“Of course.”

“Outstanding. So I’m sure you have the plans for what you would use the grant for?”

“Yes, Mr. Matheson—”

“Ms. Janes, I think we are beyond the formalities. Please, call me Patrick.” She blushes.

“Okay, Patrick. Yes, I have all of the details worked out and they have the preapproval of the board too, pending we get a grant.”

“Without going into line by line by line of the document, where is the money going?”

“Feeding the community. We get an average of fifty families a month that have to use our food pantry in order to have at least one nutritious meal a day. Honestly, that is still too low for me. I try to give families two to three meals a day…” She continues with her plan on feeding the people in the Project Hope community.

Her passion radiates from her body as she talks about giving to those less fortunate. This vibrant woman entrances me. She could be at home grieving for her loss, but instead, she’s working through her own problems to make sure people have something to eat. Perhaps I was completely wrong about her. She wears her pain differently than I do, and she hasn’t let it make her cold.

I’ll run this grant by Kane, I don’t think it will be a problem, but in case there’s an issue, I’ll set up funding from me as well. I notice she’s staring at me, not talking.

“I think it sounds like you know exactly what you want to do with the money. I don’t think there will be an issue getting you the money. I have to write it up and submit it to the board for their approval.
If
something happens and they deny it, I have a backup plan. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Thank you,” she says with excitement.

“My assistant might need to call you for specific details; can I get your number?” She opens her desk drawer and digs through the stuff. She finds what she is looking for and pulls out a business card.

“Both my office and cell phone numbers are on here.” She hands me the card and our fingers touch. So soft, so warm. She shivers in her chair as if it’s cold in here. Do I affect her? Hmm.

“Thank you. If you don’t mind, I only have a few questions about the grant I’m working on.”

“Okay, what do you need?”

“What should I focus on? An organization that provides a number of services or should I do individual organizations that provide one service?” I’m sure I have the answer, but I want her thoughts since she’s experienced.

“I volunteer with an organization that all of the services they provide are done in-house. They provide housing, employment and training for positions in the community, food services, and family support services… everything that a soldier and their family need to get acclimated to civilian life again.”

“They help the family too?” That is an interesting concept.

“Yes, because they need to learn how to help their veteran return to family life verse military life. PTSD is very common and their family members need to know the signs so if they see them, they can help the veteran get the help that they need quickly.”

“That’s impressive. Do you still volunteer there?”

“I…I haven’t since Nate died. They did call to check on Mom and me, though. It’s a very tight-knit community.”

“Sounds like a good place to start with. I’ll get their information from you before I leave… How are you doing?”

She looks confused that I’d asked a personal question, and she looks like she’s at a loss for words.