And the Greatest of These Is Love: A Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (13 page)

“And you care,” he added for her. “Irvin’s a really cool kid, but I never would’ve thought that before I saw him with you.”

“I don’t let him get away with anything less than he’s capable of.”

“He knows that, and he respects you for it.”

“Well, I hope he can find someone else to take my place in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Andrew asked, puzzled.

At her car, Gabi took a deep breath and let it go slowly. Pretending money was not a problem didn’t make it go away, neither did ignoring it.

“Jerry says after Halloween, we aren’t going to have a choice,” she said, slowly, reluctant to put the inevitable into words. There was no point in ignoring them. They were coming whether she liked it or not.

However, the gravity in Andrew’s face dropped several octaves. “A choice about what?”

She let out a hard breath and faced him. “There’s no more money, Andrew. None. We’re way in the red now, and there’s no way we can raise the kind of money it would take to stay open in two weeks.”

Putting his hands on his hips, he gazed at her with a steadiness that shook her to the middle of her soul. “How much are we talking?”

“$20 thousand at least,” she said, deciding it was pointless to beat around the bush. “With payroll and insurance on the building coming due.”

“Whew, that’s a lot of money,” Andrew agreed with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Tell me about it,” Gabi said, nodding. Letting defeat crawl into her spirit and take up residence there, she tossed her things into her car. “We just wrote a bunch of grant applications, but there’s not enough time, even if we get them, the place’ll be closed by then.”

This was always a possibility of course. It was why he was doing the story in the first place, but suddenly the deadline seemed too soon and the price tag too high.

“So, what happens if it closes?” he asked slowly, dreading the answer.

“We turn the kids out to the drug dealers and the gangs, and all the Irvin’s in Collins get shoved back into the gutter.”

The keys clicked at warp speed as Andrew edited the fourth story in the series. He didn’t notice the curious stares he was getting from around the newsroom, nor did he notice Rob staring at him from across the desk. This was important. This was serious. This story might be their only shot at saving the center, and suddenly it was every bit as important to him as it was to Gabi.

Irvin and the others were depending on him, and one way or the other, he was going to deliver.

“Must be some story,” Rob said, watching him. Andrew ignored the challenge. “I’ll bet you’re ready for this one to be over so you can clear out of Collins for good, huh?”

Andrew just kept typing. He was nearing the end, and nothing was going to break his concentration.

“So, are you going to keep seeing the chick after it’s finished? I mean seeing someone who lives over there could be disastrous to your reputation. Know what I’m saying?”

He never took his eyes off the screen he was reading although he heard every word spewing from the other side of the table.

“Come on, Andrew, are you going to give me some details or what? Is she fast? I’ve heard the girls over there are. Fast and cheap. Where’d you meet her anyway? On 7
th
? Is that it? Is she a working girl, Andrew?”

Suddenly Andrew’s patience snapped. “Shut up, Rob,” he warned under his breath even as he kept reading and typing.

“What’s the matter, homeboy? Are the criminals wearing off on you? Or did you have to pay a little too much for her services last night?”

“I said, shut up, Rob,” Andrew said, his skin crawling with each word. That was him. A week ago, that was him saying those appalling things. How could he have been so prejudiced, so arrogant, so mean?

“Come on, Andrew. Face it, bro, they’re trailer trash at best, thugs and criminals at worst. No story’s ever going to change that,” Rob said, taunting him with a smug smirk that Andrew wanted to wipe right off that perfectly conceited face.

“You’re the trash, Rob Kiner.” Andrew punched the save button and stood to put his suit coat on. He had to get out of here — away from Rob, away from his old self, away from the bigotry and the hate. He didn’t belong here anymore, and now he wondered if he ever really had.

Gabi was becoming increasingly concerned. Any minute now Antonio would walk through that door, and when Mrs. Hopkins left, which she would, Gabi would be left alone with him. It was odd to be so afraid of a child, but this was no ordinary child. Somewhere deep, far down, she knew Antonio was not her real concern, but she wouldn’t let that thought push to the surface. He would be here. He had to be.

Andrew took the steps up to the center doors two at a time. The newsroom was quickly becoming, to him, a diversion from his real mission, his real place in life. He had even brought his “other clothes” as he now called them, changed in the newsroom’s downstairs restroom, and made a mad dash to get here before anyone noticed he wasn’t.

“Good morning,” he said to Gabi and the kids as he breezed into the room. He felt like Superman with the double life and secret identity, which wasn’t really a secret but seemed like it all the same.

“Hi.” Gabi looked up, and her grin brought out both dimples and the light in her eyes. “You’re late.”

He shrugged. “I had to make an appearance at my other job, so they wouldn’t forget about me.”

The smile slid from her face, and it was replaced with a forced one that he hated.

“Oh,” she said with a sad nod, trying not to let her true feelings about the situation show. Today was their last day together. After today, he would go back to his wonderful life — away from the center, away from Collins, and away from her. That thought stung her heart in ways she hadn’t realized it would.

“So, what’re we doing?” Andrew asked, clapping his hands as he joined the girls coloring at the little table, and they all giggled.

Gabi smiled in spite of the knot in her stomach. He was so gorgeous, even the four-year-olds noticed.

When Antonio walked in at nine-thirty, the fear and hatred were still burning in his eyes, and Gabi’s blood ran cold as soon as she looked at him — the little monster from the day before was back. Thank God, Andrew had made it in time. She spoke quietly to Mrs. Hopkins and then bid her farewell, wishing that Monday she wouldn’t be left alone with alone with him, and bracing herself already for when that time came.

Andrew hardly noticed him come in, but suddenly Antonio was huddling right next to him as he knelt on the floor watching the girls color.

“Hey, Antonio, my man. What’s up?” Andrew asked as genuine happiness slipped into and over his heart. With him, there was no reservation about this little boy at all. It was all joy. “Do you want to color?” Sitting down so he could put Antonio on his lap, he picked up one of the extra coloring books and a blue crayon. “What’s your favorite color? Blue? How about red?” Antonio just sat there on his knee, not moving. “Let’s use red for now. See, look how I can color this little bird. Isn’t that pretty?” Antonio never moved. “Do you want to try? Here, take the crayon.”

The little hand stayed still for what seemed like an eternity to both adults in the room, but then as if by magic it began to move. Up. Up. And over. Until it took the crayon. Quickly Andrew grabbed another crayon from the table and made a small mark on the book’s page.

“See? Now you try.”

The movements were so micro that it almost seemed like the child wasn’t moving at all, but without looking at either of them, he put the crayon on the paper and made a tiny mark there.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Andrew said, barely able to contain his excitement. “Awesome. Can you make another one?”

Antonio made another small mark on the paper, and Andrew’s heart leapt. He looked around for Gabi, who he caught staring in their direction. He smiled at her, and she smiled a puzzled, amazed smile back. Could this really be happening? Could Antonio, with the protection of Andrew around him, venture out into the scary world to look around and see what was available?

But the answer to that question was becoming imminently obvious as Antonio made another and yet another mark on the paper. In what seemed a heartbeat, he was pushing the crayon back and forth in wide arcs over the bird. It was a true breakthrough, and they both knew it.

Gabi wished they could talk without the children hearing, but that was obviously impossible. Andrew was like a magnet, and he was never alone even for a moment. At lunch the kids fought over who got to eat next to him — in the end, Antonio, whose place was never in question, and Shaniquille who somehow managed to wedge herself between Andrew and Leslie, won out.

“So, Shaniquille, what’s your favorite thing in the whole world to do?” Andrew asked, chewing thoughtfully on his sandwich as though her answer would solve all of the mysteries of life.

She giggled and lifted her shoulders up to her ears. “Play with my dog, Bozo.”

“Bozo, huh? How’d he get that name?”

“When he was little, he ran into the furniture all the time. My brother said he was a Bozo.”

“Oh, good reason,” Andrew said, nodding seriously. “Do you have any pets, Devon?”

And so continued the lunchtime conversation. Gabi sat and listened in total amazement. She really couldn’t tell who was having the most fun — the kids or him. Even to her ears he sounded like he was genuinely interested, but she knew that was a game, and she knew in a few short hours that game would end although she wished it could go on forever.

The clay lay moist and tempting before him, but crayons were one thing, the soft, gray matter was something else entirely.

“Here, Antonio, what can we make?” Andrew continued to carry on what was turning out to be an absolutely one-sided conversation. “How about a horse? Have you ever seen a horse? Let’s see. We need some legs, and a body, and a head, and a tail, and a mane. See, a horse.”

“That’s not a horse,” Bobby said, looking over at it skeptically and wrinkling up his nose. “It looks like a sick cat.”

“A cat?” Andrew asked in horror. He picked his creation up gently and turned it around to get a better look at it. “Well, you know what? I think you’re right, Bobby. Look Antonio, we made a cat!”

The children around the table snickered.

“Look what I made, Mr. Clark,” Leslie said proudly held up her creation.

“Wow, Leslie, that’s a very good...” Andrew examined the hunk of clay, trying like mad to decide what it was.

“It’s a house,” she finally said, helping him out.

“Of course it’s a house. Here’s the window.” He pointed to one side.

“No, that’s the front door.”

“Oh, of course that’s the front door. Here’s a window.”

“That’s the back door,” she said, slightly frustrated.

“Oh, of course. Is this a door, too?” he asked, pointing to the other side.

“No, that’s a window, silly.”

“Oh, of course it is, I see it,” he said, seriously — although Gabi at the next table was clearly about to lose it as she looked over at him. “It’s a great house, Leslie. Can I come live in that house someday?”

“Yeah,” she said, putting her head down and picking up her shoulders as he had learned they all did when he gave them a compliment. “You’re nice, Mr. Clark.”

“Well, thank you,” he said, ducking his own head to check on Antonio, but knowing even as the words touched his heart he would never forget these little masterpieces sitting around him. “Here, Antonio, how about you try. Here’s a little piece.”

In what seemed only moments since he’d first met Antonio, the little boy was walking out the door holding the hand of Mrs. Hopkins. Andrew, who thought he’d weathered every tragedy imaginable, from fires to shootings to horrific car accidents, felt his heart slowly climb into his throat as he watched the tiny form turn the corner and disappear out of sight.

“You okay?” Gabi asked at his elbow.

“Yeah,” he said, choking down the rock that was lodged in his throat.

“It’s tough saying good-bye, isn’t it?”

He looked down at her but had to look away before the tears actually fell. This was crazy. He was a reporter, doing a story. He’d done thousands of them, but there had never been a story like this one. “I’d better get to the gym before they tear it down,” he said, forcing the emotion he felt back down inside him.

“Yeah,” she said, with a voice that wasn’t helping at all. She, too, sounded so sad, and it ripped at his heart strings. How could they do this on a regular basis? How do you love a child and then let them go over and over again?

It was by sheer force of will that he got his feet moving down the hallway to the gym. His feet went, his body went, but his heart stayed — right there at the door.

The game was in progress when Irvin, who Andrew quickly decided had not learned the fine details of extracting oneself from a situation, suddenly walked off the court.

“Hey, Irvin!” Andrew called to the kid’s departing back. “Where you goin’?”

Irvin turned and rolled his eyes in obvious frustration. “I’ve got an appointment.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” Andrew nodded, knowing where he was going, but suddenly feeling his time here slipping through his fingers with no way to hold onto it.

As the others continued to play, he watched again as a child he had come to know walked out of his life. But then he remembered that after the game, he’d see Irvin again — get to talk to him one last time — and that eased the almost physical pain in his heart. He forced his mind back to the basketball game and the others who would soon walk out, too.

“I really think you should apply,” Gabi said again as they sat at the table, the college brochures fanned out in front of them.

“Come on, Miss T, I ain’t gonna get in that school.”

She arched her eyebrow at him. “Ain’t?”

“You know what I mean,” he said in utter defeat. “Even if I got in, I couldn’t pay for it.”

“There’s no harm in applying,” she said, shrugging. “If you don’t apply, you’re sure to not get in. If you get in, maybe we can find the funds to get you there.”

“Ugh, Miss T, you know, I can’t afford Stanton Junior College, much less TI.”

“Well, if TI is where you really want to go, then I think you should at least apply there.”

However, he shook his head. “I’ve got to be realistic.”

“But what if you could have the dream? What if it isn’t impossible? What if you applied, got accepted, and…”

“And then couldn’t pay for it? That’d be worse, Miss T,” he said, shaking his head in defeat and resignation. Finally he stood. “I’ve gotta go.”

Gabi didn’t know what to say. He was right, of course, but she didn’t want to let go of the dream herself, and she didn’t want him to either. They still had two years. That was enough time to find a miracle, wasn’t it? “Will you at least think about it, Irvin?”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, stopping with his hand on the door knob as he turned to look back at her. “Thanks for everything, Miss T. I’ll see ya Monday.”