A Different Light (42 page)

She was musing over this thought one morning when Veronica stepped into her office to announce that Ms. Evelyn would like a minute of her time.

Athen greeted Ms. Evelyn warmly. “I was just thinking about you.”

“It was time to check on those fruit trees we planted last summer up in the green.” She motioned toward the window, beyond which once ugly, empty lots had been transformed into havens of beauty and abundance. “And I thought first I’d stop and see you and deliver my invitation in person.”

“Invitation?” Athen asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Well, now, Athen, you know that fall has always been the time to celebrate the harvest, and this year we
have much to be thankful for. We fed dozens of families with the produce from our garden. The ladies of the churches gathered what was left over and showed some of the young women from the housing project how to put up green beans and tomatoes. My, what a time we had.” She chuckled. “There are families who’ll have food this winter who last year had less, and there’s plenty put aside for the kitchens where we feed the hungry.” Her voice softened, and she told Athen, “It was the first time many of those young women had an opportunity to give to those less fortunate than they. Being poor themselves, they didn’t realize that there were others who had even less. We all learned a little something from working together.”

As always, Ms. Evelyn’s generous spirit and true love of humanity humbled Athen.

“I thought we should celebrate our good fortune in some special way,” Ms. Evelyn continued in her slow, precise voice. “That perhaps we as a city should unite to give thanks for the harvest we have been able to share. I was thinking a community day of prayer would be fitting, a day when the churches could unite in a common service of worship, perhaps to be held at the green. It seems right to give thanks in the midst of God’s bounty, don’t you think?”

“It’s a wonderful idea, Ms. Evelyn,” Athen readily agreed.

“It occurred to me that you, as mayor, as well as one who had volunteered her time to help with the project, might like to be a guest at the service.” Ms. Evelyn looked at Athen from across the big desk. Something seemed to play behind her eyes, giving Athen just a hint of speculation as to what, besides prayer, Ms. Evelyn might have in mind.

“I’m honored that you thought to include me,” Athen
told her sincerely, “and I would be delighted to attend.”

“Wonderful.” Ms. Evelyn smiled. “Two p.m., the Sunday after next. Pray the weather holds. It so often turns cool at the end of October.”

She rose to leave and Athen walked her to the door.

“Do bring Callie,” Ms. Evelyn reminded her before she walked to the elevator and waved.

Something is afoot,
Athen reflected as she opened the drapes to give full view to the lush green spot just three blocks from City Hall. The autumn sun danced off the trees that grew along the perimeter of Ms. Evelyn’s garden, the russets of the oaks and the yellows of the maples forming a brilliant outline along the back border. Athen thought back to the day she spent there early in the summer. It had been the best weekend she’d had in a very long time.

She tried her damnedest not to think about Quentin. She still could not look at him without feeling confused. He’d set in motion feelings she believed she’d never feel again, and then quietly walked away. He was gracious to her at the weekly press conferences, yet avoided speaking to her outside the conference room, other than once to mumble “great haircut” as he passed by. He avoided making eye contact with her, yet she could feel his eyes on her from the moment he entered the room until his speedy exit. There were times when she wished she could grab him by the collar, shake him silly, and yell, “What is wrong with you?”

But, of course, she never would, so they continued to meet once each week within the confines of a public press conference.

Secretly, their mutual professional and forced politeness drove her crazy. She wondered what he felt, what he was thinking as he watched her from his seat in the first
row. This Quentin was new to her and she could not read him at all. He looked the same but the fire he’d once displayed was gone. He had even, on several occasions, uncharacteristically passed on opportunities to grill her on one topic or another, choosing instead to defer to another
Herald
reporter, and his news stories lacked his old spice. She wished he would talk to her, if only as a friend. She still missed him, even after all these months. His presence in her life felt much like an unfinished sonnet. She wished that someday they would have the chance to write the last verse.

“THESE ARE PERILOUS TIMES, FRIENDS,
and we are in the midst of a perilous journey.” The Reverend Davison’s voice boomed across the immense crowd that gathered for the UCC’s Community Day of Prayer. “Mankind stands on the brink of the destruction of the spirit. Only by coming together in a common cause can we triumph over the forces of despair. The path before us is clear, sisters and brothers. We can, as a community, set in motion the means to care for those among us who, through no fault of their own, need a hand to help them along.”

Athen bit her bottom lip and arched her foot inside her shoe, trying to distract herself so that she would not openly grin.

Ms. Evelyn was, in fact, a genius.

She had personally visited every member of the city’s clergy to invite them to attend this event, and as a result, every church and synagogue in Woodside Heights was represented on the dais. As mayor, Athen had been seated in the first row. Next to her sat Riley Fallon and his new bride, Georgia, the Reverend Davison’s daughter. Clearly, the seating arrangement had been deliberate. As the
Reverend Davison launched into his plea for community support of the UCC’s efforts on behalf of the homeless, he was backed on the platform by the mayor, a member of City Council, and every religious leader in the city.

Brilliant, Ms. Evelyn. Simply brilliant.

“… and so we ask you to support us as we strive to do His work, to feed the hungry in our midst, to shelter the homeless, to clothe those whom the bitter winds of the coming winter would chill.”

Looking out across the sea of faces, black and white, Hispanic and Asian, Greek and Italian, Irish and Polish, Athen knew that the battle would be won. Hundreds of people jammed the garden and spilled onto the adjacent street and sidewalk. She glanced sideways at Ms. Evelyn, seated at the end of the row, marveling that the spirit of this one small woman had proven to be greater than the forces of power that had opposed her for so long.

Athen’s eyes scanned the crowd for Dan Rossi, wondering what thoughts were going through his mind. She had not seen him arrive, but she knew he would be there. To have avoided the event would have been a political error he would never have made. The press had built the Day of Prayer into a happening that no one of standing within the community would have missed. Athen would bet her last dollar that before the day was over, Dan would have arranged to have his picture taken with Ms. Evelyn.

“… and just as our hard work has resulted in this beautiful garden wherein we now gather, so can we banish the blight from this city. Let us pray …”

As the closing prayer commenced, the clouds that had hidden the sun all afternoon shifted, allowing the warming light to cover the crowd. Athen suppressed a giggle. Only Ms. Evelyn could have arranged for so
dramatic a touch to end the ceremonies.

Walking through the dispersing crowd, Athen realized that Callie was no longer at her side. Peering around, she saw her daughter walking toward the sidewalk with Diana. She headed in that direction, but found her way blocked by a solid form dressed in khaki pants and a brown tweed jacket.

“Hello, Athen.”

“Hello, Quentin.”

“Quite a gathering Ms. Evelyn put together,” he said.

“I doubt anyone else could have pulled it off.” She hoped he could not hear her sudden, erratic heartbeat.

“I guess she’ll get her shelter built,” he continued.

“I’d bet on it.”

They’d been walking slowly, small steps through the maze of people, neither paying attention to which way they were going. She realized they’d headed back to the garden, away from the sidewalk and Callie. Athen stopped, and so did he.

“Brenda tells me Meg will be home next week,” he said.

“Yes. Tuesday.” Her capacity for small talk had almost been reached. What was the point?

“Callie is doing exceptionally well with her riding, did Brenda tell you?” He still avoided her eyes.

“Yes, she did. It’s really wonderful of Brenda to pick her up on Saturdays and bring her home.”

“It’s not out of her way, and both Callie and Timmy really have a great time. They’ve become best friends, almost like sister and brother. You should come out to watch some afternoon. You’re always welcome.”

A tense silence began to build and she struggled with a response. The old Athen would have let it go.

The new Athen decided that she’d been polite long enough.

“I don’t feel welcome, Quentin. For some reason that I don’t quite understand, I seem to make you extremely uncomfortable. I can accept the fact that you don’t have any interest in dating me. But we’re both grown-ups, and given the fact that our children are such close friends, I can’t understand why we can’t be friends as well. This polite but distant attitude of yours is very annoying. Could we forget about everything else and just be friends?”

For the briefest of moments he permitted his eyes to meet hers before looking away. In those few seconds she saw a flash of longing so defined that her knees all but shook.

“I’m afraid it isn’t quite that simple, Athen,” he said softly.

“Quentin …” She laid a hand on his arm just as Callie grabbed her from behind.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Mom.” Callie tugged on Athen’s sleeve. “Oh, hi, Mr. Forbes.”

“Hello, Callie.”

“Can we go, please?” pleaded Callie. “I’m starving and I have a math test to study for.”

“I was just going to look for you.” Athen told her. She turned to Quentin. “It was good to see you. I’m sorry if I …”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He cut her off. “It was good to see you, too, Athen.”

“I don’t understand you, Quentin,” she said bluntly.

“I’m hoping someday you will.”

“You make me crazy,” she told him from between clenched jaws.

“Good,” he whispered. “That’s the best news I’ve had in a long time.” He squeezed her elbow before turning and walking away.

IT HAD NOT TAKEN A
political genius to figure out that at the following week’s Council meeting, a motion would be made to lease the houses on Fourth Street to the UCC. Although Wolmar and Giamboni voted against it, George Konstantos voted with Riley Fallon to hand the properties over. Athen cast the deciding vote, and the deed was done.

“This is your first victory since taking office. How do you think the opposition will react?” she was asked at the press conference that afternoon.

“First of all, I do not see it as a victory for anyone other than the people who have worked so hard and so long for this,” she said. “People like Ms. Evelyn Wallace, the Reverend Davison, and the other leaders of the UCC. It is their victory, not mine. And as far as the opposition is concerned, I would hope that Councilmen Wolmar and Giamboni would respect the wishes of the people of Woodside Heights. Though it’s beyond my comprehension why anyone would oppose such a worthy project, especially since it has the backing of the people in the community.”

“And Dan Rossi?’ A voice from the middle of the first row asked pointedly.

“Dan Rossi does not sit on Council, Mr. Forbes,” she reminded him.

“It is my understanding that after the first of the year, Mr. Rossi will announce that he will run in the primary,” he continued. “Since he has been an outspoken opponent of a shelter at that location, do you foresee any problems in getting the project off the ground before you leave office?”

“Do you mean will the shelter be open before my term expires?”

Quentin nodded.

“I have another year in office, Mr. Forbes. I cannot imagine that it would take a year to complete this.” She tapped her foot in agitation. “The fact that last month’s amendment moved the primary to May does not affect this project. I fully expect the shelter to be open well before next November.”

“Then you are conceding that you will not run against former Mayor Rossi in the primary?” Dave Higgins from one of the local network affiliates asked her, as the TV camera lights flashed sharply.

“I never intended to seek reelection, Mr. Higgins,” she told him bluntly.

“But if the shelter was delayed,” he persisted, “or in jeopardy between now and May, would you consider …”

“The shelter will not be delayed in any way.” She cut him off, seeing the line of questioning beginning to drift to waters she had no interest in treading. “There are plans in place to move this forward as quickly as possible. Perhaps Councilman Fallon would be good enough to fill you in on the timetable.”

Quentin hung back at the end of the conference, and edged toward her. “Congratulations, Athen.”

She had watched him out of the corner of one eye, wondering if today he would elect not to make his usual dash for the door. She was pleased to see that he was slowly gathering his things, seeming to time himself so that they would be heading for the door at the same time.

“Congratulate Riley. Or better still, Ms. Evelyn. She’s the one who made this happen.”

“You cast the deciding vote,” he reminded her.

“I was happy to do it, I assure you.”

“Do you really think Dan will let this happen?” They
moved into the hallway.

“I can’t see how he can stop it,” she told him confidently. “What could he possibly do?”

“It just isn’t in his nature to back off graciously.” His leather binder began to slip forward from his grasp. She reached out and caught it before it could fall. Their fingers touched, and they stood frozen for a moment, politics and old hurts briefly forgotten. A current passed from one to the other and back again.