Power and Passion (14 page)

"Of course," Sara said just as quickly. "I
just don't want to burden you, that's all."

Now it was Maryam's turn to bat the thought
away. "Nonsense." She finished her bite of bread then put the roll
down on a plate. "Now tell me what is bothering you," she said as
she brushed some stray crumbs from the front of her abaya.

Sara sat back in her chair. "Well, I've had
this idea in my head for a while," she began slowly, as if
unraveling her thoughts. "For a few weeks now anyway. See, I work
as the events coordinator, but mostly what I do is set up practices
for our athletes, annual dinners and such. I organize a few small
fundraising events but not many. Which is fine—we don't need money.
I mean we do, but it's not my top priority right now. What we need
is for people to notice that we're here."

"You need publicity," Maryam clarified as
the waiter approached with two steaming plates of food. He set one
down carefully in front of her, the other in front of Sara, then he
silently retreated again.

"Yes, that is exactly what we need," Sara
went on. She looked down at her meal then picked up her fork and
began to poke at it. "We need to create relationships with people
in the community. Not just individuals but businesses and schools
and—" She looked up at Maryam again. "And I don't even know what or
who. I just know we need our name out there and to get people to
understand what we do and its value to all in the community. If we
can manage that, our programs can become more effective. Then the
money will come, I'm sure of it."

She paused. "And I have another new idea,"
she said, feeling a little wary of what she thought might be a
crazy notion. But she needed someone else's opinion on it. "You
know Dubai just won the bid to host the World Expo in 2020."

"Oh, yes," Maryam replied, a bit of
excitement in her voice. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"Absolutely," Sara agreed. "And all the
media attention it's gotten has given me pause to think. If the SO
gala achieves its goals then I think, God willing, we can go
further and work on making a successful bid to hold the World
Special Olympics here in Dubai."

Maryam clapped her hands together. "That's a
great plan, Sara! Once people feel a connection to a cause,
everything gets much easier—especially getting them to open their
wallets when you need them to."

Sara laughed a little. "Well, when you put
it that way, it sounds a little mercenary, doesn't it?"

Maryam shook her head this time. "Not at
all," she said. "No, Sara, it's not that way at all. Listen, I'm on
the board of this charity organization called Tomorrow's World. We
work with underprivileged families to help them in various ways
like finding jobs, applying for schools, looking for housing,
anything that will help them take a step up from the station
they're at now."

"Wow, that sounds great, Maryam," Sara said,
looking at her friend with wide eyes. "I had no idea you're
involved in that. How long have you been on the board?"

Maryam thought about it as she looked out at
the abra boats gliding on the manmade waterway, shuttling people to
the Arabian resort's restaurants, villas, and hotels. "About two
years now," she replied. "That's why I know we have a Special
Olympics program here. We've worked with family members who have
disabilities, and we've gotten a few involved with your
organization."

Now Sara's face truly lit up. She put her
palms down on the table as if holding herself back from jumping up
from her seat. "Maryam, that's fantastic! I had
no
idea."
She paused for a moment, her grin growing from ear to ear. "Thank
you. I don't know what else to say but thank you for bringing these
people to us."

Maryam blotted her mouth with her napkin
again, leaving a faintly pink outline of her lipstick on the
creamcolored linen. "I should be thanking you," she said. "You
can't imagine—well, I'm sure you can imagine the change joining the
program brought to their lives. It's amazing what a little positive
attention, a sense of belonging, and the spirit of competition will
do for the human soul."

"That is exactly how I feel." Sara's voice
was soft, her eyes almost misting up. Maryam could tell she had hit
a soft spot with her friend, and it tugged on her heart a bit. She
had remembered the image of driven Sara, the champion of the
nonprofit world even as a university student. But she'd forgotten
how loving she could also be not just to her friends and family but
outward, expanding to humanity as a whole. "I'm so glad we got
together again," Maryam said, trying to keep herself from tearing
up a little too.

Sara laughed and swiped a finger under her
eyes. "Sorry," she said. "Sorry. I guess I get a little carried
away sometimes. I just love what I do so much, Maryam. And it's
nice to feel like someone understands how I feel."

"What about Pierce?" Maryam asked. "He
doesn't support your work?"

Sara took a long drink from her tall, cold
glass then set it back on the table. "Pierce…has his own set of
priorities," she began. "We differ quite a bit in that realm. It's
not that he doesn't support me; he just…he doesn't understand what
I do. He thinks I'm just out there running track meets and watching
people swim all day, but it's so much more than that. It's not just
the sports, you know? It's just what you said—it's raising people's
spirits, helping them find their places in the world, and uniting
people through sports."

Maryam poked at her food with her fork. This
was disheartening to hear from Sara, that the man she planned to
marry was not behind her life's work 110 percent. If Ibrahim had
felt that way about her…well, there would probably be no Ibrahim in
her life to speak of at that point. She also could not imagine Sara
keeping this inside herself. This was a woman who lived for helping
those in need; it was the core and fiber of her very being. To be
with a man who did not understand…

Well, Maryam knew it was not her place to
judge. Pierce had seemed like a very nice man, attractive and
polite, and certainly good at what he did. By the time they had
left the party the previous night, he'd set up appointments with
Ibrahim to go look at three different real-estate sites over the
next few days. Perhaps that was what Sara liked about him so much:
he was quite driven, to say the least. Maryam had to give that much
to him.

"So finish telling me about this idea of
yours," she said, keeping her voice low and calm. "Your fundraising
and publicity idea."

"Oh, yes," Sara said, sitting up straight in
her chair. She looked alive again. "Well, I'm thinking of throwing
this massive gala. Food and drink, music, celebrity speakers,
auctions, the whole nine yards. Invite all of the major players in
town and try to get them onboard—and donate, of course, to the
cause." She paused for a moment, biting her bottom lip. "What do
you think?" she asked, sounding tentative. "Do you think it could
really work?"

Maryam folded her hands in her lap. "Well,
it sounds good. Have you ever done anything like it before?"

Sara deflated again just a bit. "Well, no.
That's the first of my problems." Then her shoulders began to sag.
"I have help, but…I don't know. I'm still not sure it's going to be
enough."

"People from your office?" Maryam guessed.
If the operation was as small as Sara implied, she could see where
there might be trouble finding enough hands to get things done.

"No, actually, I've got Joan Harrison
involved."

Maryam just looked at her friend for a
moment. "Did you say Joan Harrison?" she asked. "As in Joan
Harrison of Hearts and Minds?"

Sara nodded enthusiastically. "That's the
one. I gave her a call, and for some reason she's into it." Now she
shrugged, holding her hands out to her sides as if completely
baffled. "The problem is she's an idea woman, you know? Joan's a
big thinker with lots of creative suggestions. But she's not used
to legwork. She has all the contacts I need, and she can set a lot
of balls in motion. The problem is I have to run after them, and I
just don't think my feet can move fast enough to catch them all in
time."

Maryam smiled at the image. "Well, I suppose
I can help you out."

On the other side of the table, Sara sat in
silence for a moment. "No, Maryam, I wasn't looking to pull you in.
I—"

Maryam raised her hand, palm out, signaling
for Sara to stop. "You're not pulling me. I'm pushing my way in, my
dear friend." She leaned forward, placing her forearms on the
table. "Look, it's obvious this means a lot to you. You helped me
when I was at UBC, and now I would like to help you. I'm no Joan
Harrison, but I know a few people here and there through Tomorrow's
World. I have some good relationships in the community I can
mobilize to fill in the gaps." She paused then gave Sara her
warmest and most convincing smile. "And it would be good for me to
do something outside my comfort zone. What do you say? Can I
help?"

Sara furrowed her brows. She didn't want to
take advantage of Maryam's kindness. "What about your daughter? And
your job? Surely you have more than enough on your plate right
now."

"My mother and sisters will help me with
Hanaa. And I'll work around my job. I have to be at classes at
certain times of course, but everything else I can move around as I
need. You need someone to do legwork? I'm your gal. I can make
phone calls, send emails, scout out venues, whatever you need to be
done."

When Sara was quiet again, Maryam reached
across the table and took her hand. "Please, Sara, let me help. You
don't have to do this alone."

Sara simply nodded her head.

A
skirt or jeggings? A dark blouse or a
light-colored sweater? Running her hands along the clothes hanging
in her large bedroom closet, Sara let out a sigh. She just could
not decide what to wear.

You'd think I were going on a date
,
she thought then laughed a little. Her appointment this evening was
as far from a date as it could be. It could be considered social,
she guessed, but it was also business—Joan and Maryam had agreed to
meet her for dinner so the two could get acquainted, and they all
could discuss what their roles would be going forward with the gala
project.

Sara had no idea why she felt so nervous.
Maybe it was the pressure to perform, to prove she could pull off
the gala without completely embarrassing herself. Perhaps it was
because the other two women were so powerful, each in her own way.
Joan was a celebrity practically, and Maryam had her life so pulled
together—career, a child, an obviously doting husband… It was nice
to see her having it all. It gave Sara a hopeful feeling to see
that good things
do
happen to good people.

"And what do I have?" Sara said, pulling a
pair of darkblue pants and a silkchiffon top out of the closet. She
tossed them, hangers and all, on her bed. Okay, she had a good
job—one she loved, in fact, which she knew could be a rare gift.
She had two wonderful parents, she acknowledged as she slipped into
the pants, who loved her and supported her in everything she wanted
to do. Well, except her engagement to Pierce. But she had him, too,
regardless—a handsome and successful husband-to-be.

"So why am I so restless?" she asked the
empty room, turning to look in the full-length mirror on the wall
as she pulled the sky-blue top over her head. She smoothed it down
then turned from side to side, checking her hair and face, making
sure everything was in place; being well groomed was important to
her. It had to be the project, she decided, that was making her
feel so uneasy with herself and with her life. She'd never been so
discontented before. This gala, it seemed, was turning her whole
world upside down.

"And it hasn't even started yet," she
reminded herself with a little laugh then grabbed her purse and
headed out. Her mom and dad were out to dinner themselves then off
to the movies at the Reel Cinemas. Sara thought it was so nice that
they still had date nights even though they had been married for so
long. She hoped she and Pierce would be the same way when they made
it to their golden years.

Actually, she thought as she stepped into
her car, she wished they could more be like her parents now. Her
mom and dad went out together more often than Sara and Pierce did.
He was always working, even when he was at home, even when they
were at a romantic restaurant celebrating their third anniversary
with candles and champagne and the soft sounds of a stringed
instrument being strummed nearby. Pierce had kept his phone on the
table, right by his hand, email program open and ready. When Sara
had asked him to put it away, his mood went sour and remained that
way for the rest of the night.