Janice Carter - Her Kind Of Hero

Matt tucked the ugly memory away. The elevator was out of order again and he was grateful for the walk up to the sixth floor after the big meal at his mother’s. He stowed the stew next to the pasta and checked his voice mail. His mother had set ground rules about cell phone use at meals long ago, but he’d automatically reached for it enough times during supper to draw snorted laughter from Rosie and frowns from Esperanza.

First, there was Sandro, confirming the delivery of the bunk beds and linens the next day. I’ll meet you at the camp at about ten. Got an appointment in the city. But the delivery guys will move the stuff into the cabins, so you won’t have to bother about that. Oh, and the window people are coming back day after tomorrow to fix the screens in the old cabin. They’re coming in the morning and I can be there, but you have a meeting in the afternoon with the kitchen staff. The cook’s got her menus all worked out.

Matt saved the message, knowing he’d have to replay it later for his notes.

Kristen was next, telling him the center’s new youth worker could start on Wednesday. And just a reminder of the board meeting Thursday night. Bad timing, I know, coming before the first weekend at the camp. But you need to be there.

This month’s board meeting was a big one, as they’d be discussing not only the budget cut from the city but the presentation to the Willow Springs town council regarding the lease.

The last message puzzled him. The number wasn’t familiar and, at first, neither was the voice. But the vocal style was a dead giveaway.

Not sure if this is your work number or a personal one, so apologies if I’m bothering you at home.

Before the end of the first sentence—uttered without a word of introduction—Matt knew the caller had to be Dana Sothern. Must be something about her check. Wanting to know why he hadn’t cashed it.

I noticed you haven’t cashed my check.

Aha.

And...um...if your suggestion is still on the table, I do have some time off work right now. Give me a call.

Matt stared in disbelief at his phone. So, she was taking him up on his challenge. That meant the check would have to stay in his desk for now. He called the number on his screen right away. She took long enough to answer that he considered disconnecting but eventually, that unfamiliar but melodic voice said, “Matt?”

“Yeah. I got your message.” He stopped there, letting her take the lead.

“So, I have time off work and can help out in some way at the camp.”

She seemed to want him to draw it out of her, even though she’d called him. But he waited long enough for her to add, “Unless you’d prefer to cash my check instead.”

Was nothing easy with this woman? Was it a yes or a no? “Look, Ms. Sothern. I suggested you help us out in lieu of donating money and you left without any discussion about that. Then you call to say you’ve got time after all. Now you’re asking me if I want to cash the check instead.” He paused, waiting for his blood pressure to ease. “I’m getting a lot of mixed messages here. What do you want to do?”

He heard the sigh and waited a moment longer for the answer. “I’m willing to help out a bit.”

“Okay. How long?”

“Um...one weekend?”

“Not worth your trouble, Ms. Sothern, nor mine, considering the police check I’ll have to initiate for you and some orientation. How about three?”

Another silence. “Two?”

Matt couldn’t believe it. They were negotiating how long she’d volunteer at the camp? Clearly, she had no concept of what the term volunteer actually meant. “Fine. Meet me at KidsFirst Wednesday afternoon and we’ll go over details.”

“I can’t do Wednesday. How about Thursday?”

He gritted his teeth. “Great. Come in the morning. Eight o’clock.”

She sounded taken aback, saying, “Eight?”

“Yes, eight, because I have to get out to the camp early and you can drive with me. There’s a camp staff meeting Friday morning that I hope you can attend because it’s mainly the only orientation I have time to give you. This first weekend is a short one, with the kids coming Saturday morning instead of Friday.”

“Okay. Shall I—”

“See you at eight,” he interrupted and disconnected before she could try to bargain further. Now he wished he hadn’t issued his challenge. Or been so prideful about cashing the check. He had a feeling Dana Sothern was going to be a whole lot more trouble than help to him and to Camp Hope.

* * *

THE DOOR WAS LOCKED, and Dana swore under her breath as the taxi rolled away. She glanced nervously up and down the street in front of KidsFirst, relieved to see a couple of people walking toward the bus stop at the end of the block. So much for my plan to get on the good side of Matt Rodriguez—if he even has one—by arriving early.

She thought about calling him but decided against taking her cell phone out of her pocket— not in this neighborhood —and began to pace, sipping on the latte she’d picked up on the way. Dana knew she needed to calm down, but Monday night’s phone call still bugged her. The way he’d hung up on her simply because she’d been taken aback by the eight o’clock meeting. The time was irrelevant. She was always at the office by eight, had been for years. Then there was the pointless bickering about how long she’d be volunteering. You’d think from his manner that he was doing her a favor. She’d had to work overtime the last two nights to finish the paperwork on the health-food-chain merger.

She checked her watch again and decided she’d give him five more minutes. If he didn’t show, at least she’d have the rare opportunity to indulge in a day off. Go shopping, have lunch at that new place near her condo in Lincoln Park. She could even call Jason, see if he was free. No. Not a good idea. That’s over. Her latte was almost finished and she’d allotted him an extra five minutes when a beat-up station wagon rumbled to a stop in front of her.

Dana bent to see if the driver was Matt just as the passenger-side window rolled down.

“Hop in,” he said, leaning over to pick up an empty coffee tray from the passenger-side floor. He tossed it into the back and watched as she climbed in, tucking her daypack between her legs.

“You can put that behind you if you want.”

She took another peek behind her. “No, it’s okay.”

“Uh, do you have other shoes with you?”

Dana peered down at her ankle-high leather boots with their short, sturdy heels, the perfect accessory to her black skinny jeans. She decided not to be offended by his assumption that she couldn’t figure out what to wear to a camp. “I’ve got sneakers in my pack,” she said, depositing her coffee cup in the holder and fastening her seat belt.

“Great, because the grounds might be muddy from the rain we’ve had.”

Dana looked at him. “I can do mud.”

He seemed about to say more but then nodded as he shifted the car into gear and drove away from the center. He was quiet while he navigated rush-hour traffic, which suited Dana. Other than getting information from him about the tasks he expected her to do, what else could they talk about? Yet as soon as the thought popped up, she realized they had one very obvious topic of conversation. That day. For some reason, he never brought it up.

As they left the city behind, Dana asked, “Where is this camp again?”

“Outside a town called Willow Springs. On Maple Lake. Not far. Maybe half an hour if traffic is good.”

Dana had never heard of either place but then, except for business, she seldom ventured outside Chicago. “Tell me how you got involved with it. The news article I read was mainly about the drop-in center.”