High Stakes (25 page)

“Got it.”

He stood. “You proved you weren’t just another pretty face, Scott. You’re going places. Congratulations.”

When he left, she sat there staring after him. For someone who’d gotten exactly what she wanted, she was miserable.

CitySights
Column on KPRAY

“After weeks of investigation, interviews and encounters, my reassessment of KPRAY is as follows. Though I still believe that radio advertising is not the way to spread a Christian message, they do. It’s that simple. More so, in my interviews with KPRAY staff and donors, I’ve found nothing but a sincere desire to propagate their stated beliefs.

“When I met with the employees, they were open and honest, both in their disclosures and their umbrage at my questioning. I was shown offices and met with the CEO of the Board of Directors. None of these people could understand my problem with the station. And no one was faking it. The CEO believes in everything he’s doing. So much so that he willingly agreed to contact donors (I rigged it so he couldn’t’ cheat), and I spoke with seven people. One was an army veteran, another, a housewife with several children; both give regardless of the strain donations put on their budgets. A wealthy woman is leaving much of her sizable estate to KPRAY. At first I thought she was being duped. But she’s a sharp, clear-minded woman who knows what she wants. A good number of eccentric people leave money to recipients who, in my eyes, might be questionable. However, this woman is firm in her beliefs. She abides by Matthew’s directive, ‘To whom much is given, much is expected.’ Finally, when protestors came to picket at my business, we invited them in and discussed, over coffee, what my objections were. Calmed, they told their own stories: KPRAY had used their Other Mission Fund to provide a surgery for one man’s son, which healed his heart. Another man scrimped and saved, but his joy in donating was immense.

“So, folks, here’s my take: I don’t agree with radio proselytizing, but many good, honest people do. I accede to them. It
is
KPRAY and not KPREY. As always, send comments to
[email protected]
.”

CitySights
Column on Rachel Scott

“Full disclosure: my family is unhappy with the past reporting of news anchor for NSMBC Rachel Scott. We feel she violated our privacy. Consequently, when I received a call from her network to give her a second column, to investigate her further, and the higher ups at
CitySights
agreed, I entered my time with her with misgivings. I was pleasantly surprised.

“Rachel Scott is a hard worker. Her day begins early morning, as she prepares for her show and future static segments that could be run anytime. She barely stops for meals but you’d never know it from her energy and vivacity on-screen. She’s done what some consider fluff pieces, many of which turned out to have substance. When I saw she did a story on shoes, I laughed at her. But in the segment, she exposed her love of footwear, then heard from podiatrists who condemned high heels for women. She went on to issue a challenge to women of the world to vow not to wear any but low-heeled shoes, herself included. The website to propagate this has reached ten thousand women, who now have happier feet and backs.

“Her recent coverage of everybody’s favorite beleaguered governor should win awards, not just because she broke the story but because of her tireless continued coverage.

“I could go on and on about her stories. But I want to share the personal side of this woman. Rachel Scott cares about her family. From world-renowned researchers and a doctor and a CEO to a beloved pediatrician, Scott lauds their achievements, oft times diminishing her own. She’s made her mark in the broadcasting world, on par with their successes.

“Finally, Rachel Scott believes in pay-it-forward. She covers do-good stories like Kid’s Day at the racetrack—and gave money to support it—and she also sponsors a dance class for underprivileged kids. And not just with money. She gives her time to teach the class. You should see the eight little girls in their new dance wear, supplied by you-know-who. I was impressed.

“So, although I have in the past criticized Scott, I found there is another side, which is only fair to report here. As always, send comments to
[email protected]
.”

Dylan stared at the computer, feeling good about his work for the first time in over two weeks. These two columns were the kinds of stories he’d told in the past. He published the truth, even if he didn’t like being proved wrong. Though he’d made a mess of things with his family and, of course, Rachel—just thinking about her made his chest tight—he’d pulled himself up by the bootstraps and gotten his act together.

The door to his house opened and in walked Liam. “Hi, buddy, how you doing?”

“Better.”

Liam got them beers and sat down at the dining room table with him. “Writing?”

“Yeah. Take a look.”

As Liam perused both columns, Dylan stood and went to the window. April had melted the March snow, replaced the cold with warmer temps, so a few crocuses poked their heads up in the yard. Despite the yawning sadness inside him, he wanted spring back in his life. Today’s writing would start the process.

“Good for you, Dyl.” He turned to find Liam had lazed back in the chair, and there was approval in his eyes. Thank God. “You did the right thing.”

Dropping down across from his brother, he took a sip from his bottle. “Yeah, it feels good.” He heard the underlying sadness in his tone and wondered if that would ever go away.

Liam took a long swig of beer, then said, “They’ll come around.”

Patrick spoke to him only when necessary, and Aidan had absented himself from Dylan’s life and hadn’t shown his face at the pub for several days. “Maybe.”

“Brie’s pissed at Pat for being a jerk. Even the lovebirds are having a spat over how they treated you.”

“I didn’t want to cause them any more problems.”

“They caused themselves problems. You don’t turn on family, no matter what.”

“God, Liam, please don’t fight with them because of me.”

“I’m not fighting with them, but they know how we feel.”

“We?”

“Ma and Pa talked to them both. Told them they should come down off the holier-than-thou pedestals they put themselves on and take a look at their own mistakes.”

He felt the familiar cramp in his stomach begin again. “A fine mess I made.”

“Yeah, not unlike the beauties the rest of us have made.” He waited. “Have you seen her?”

Dylan shook his head.

“Think the column will help?”

He gripped the bottle for control. “Help what, Liam? Our family can never accept her, even if Pat and Aidan thaw on what I did. That’s a deal breaker for anyone I bring into our lives.”

His brother got that
you idiot
look in his eyes. “Okay, then I won’t tell you what was announced on her show last night.”

Of course, Dylan had stopped watching her program. He couldn’t bear to see her going on with her life. “I don’t want to know.”

“Tough. You need to. She got the job she wanted. She’s going to Syria this week.”

“Good for her.” He steeled himself against the fear that tried to invade him. He preferred, now, to keep his emotions at bay.

Liam got up. “Go easy on yourself, bro.”

That’ll be the day
, Dylan thought, turning back to the computer. He was going to regret the last few weeks’ course of events for the rest of his life.

Rachel heard the buzz in the outer office as she packed some items she’d need to take with her. Across the world. She looked up when Jeannine came to the doorway. “There’s some people here to see you.”

At first she didn’t recognize the three women who stood behind Jeannine. One in a severe business suit. One in a firefighter’s uniform and one in…Armani. Ah, now she got it.

“It’s okay, Jeannine. Let them in.”

First was Brie O’Neil, who tossed back her blunt-cut, auburn hair. “Hello, Rachel. We’d like to talk to you.”

What could they want? If it was to rail on her, she’d… She’d shut up and take it. “All right.”

Sophie Tyler followed Brie inside, as did C.J. Ludzecky, whose baby bump was just starting to show.

“Don’t worry,” Sophie said. “We come in peace, so to speak.”

C.J. smiled. “And with advice.”

Rachel didn’t realize how stiff she’d been holding herself until she deflated. Thank God there would be no battle. They all gathered at the conference table.

Rachel was puzzled. “Aren’t you all mad at me, too?”

“Nope.” Sophie leaned forward, her reddish hair pulled back in a clip. “Dylan’s miserable. He and Pat and Aidan are on the outs because he told them everything about you two.”

“Well, that makes me feel like shit. You sure you’re here in peace?”

Brie sniffed. “My husband’s being an ass about this.”

C.J. nodded. “Mine, too. They’ll go through this funk or pity party or little-boy spat, then they’ll work it out with Dylan.”

Rachel remembered the pictures on her show of the O’Neils as little boys, teens and adult men. She heard Dylan’s confession that night of the gala, made to make her feel better.

I still dream about the day Pa left. And because of that, I’ve been overly protective of my family…like nobody will do it if I don’t. I try to cover it with bravado and arrogance, but down deep I’m a wimp about them.

“I hope they work it out with him. I know how he feels about your family. I’m sorry for the divisiveness I’ve caused.”

Arching a sculpted brow, Brie asked, “Do you love him?”

Rachel was taken aback.

On the heels of that, Sophie said, “Because we think he loves you.”

She bit her lip at what she’d lost. “If he ever loved me, he doesn’t anymore. Besides, it doesn’t matter. The guys might make up with Dylan, but they’ll never accept me.”

“We don’t agree,” Brie answered.

“Why exactly did you come?”

“Because we heard about the Syria job.” Again, Brie.

Sophie, the firefighter, added, “So, if you die over there, we wanted you to know the truth.”

C.J., the agent put in, “Yeah, and we’ll be able to tell Dylan you were sorry.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped, then she realized the two women who spoke so bluntly put their lives on the line every day. Despite the hollowness inside her, she chuckled. “Okay, thanks.”

They stood. Brie took her hand. “Go do what you have to do and then come home to him. Maybe this will blow over by the time you get back.”

“Be safe, Rachel,” C.J. said.

Sophie handed her a paper. “Um, read this before you go. And watch your back.”

They walked out. It took Rachel a minute before she could compose herself. Then she looked down. On the paper was one of Dylan’s columns. About her.

It had been a hell of a week getting ready for her trip to Syria, not the least of which was her visit with her parents. As she waited for Becca to pick her up to go to the airport, she recalled the conversation…

She’d asked them to meet her for lunch at a little place on the Upper East Side. When her mother and father arrived—harried as usual—they ordered quickly. She’d imposed on their workday.

“So, what is it that you wanted to talk to us about?” her father asked.

She would just tell them and wait for the fallout. “I’m leaving for a stint in Syria for a month. I thought you should know.”

Her mother dropped her cup. Coffee spilled in rivulets over the white tablecloth. Her father only dropped his jaw.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Marian asked after a waiter cleaned up the mess.

“I’ve gone to the Middle East a few times in my career, with other journalists. Reporting from there is exciting. And I liked the outreach in Africa I did when I was younger.”

Her father was still openmouthed. “You’ve done foreign reporting?”

“Um, yes, with other reporters in charge. To get some experience.”

“Why didn’t we know about this?” he demanded.

“I told you, but you must have forgotten.” And if they’d watched her show every night, which they didn’t, they would have been aware of her absence.

Her mother’s face had gotten pale. “Again, Rachel, dear, I don’t understand.”

She’d faced her parents and sighed. If Dylan could be honest with his family, she could be honest with hers. “Mom, I know you don’t think my work is as important as the jobs you two and Becca have, but I do significant work for the world. This is one of the ways.”

Her mother’s brow furrowed in honest puzzlement. “We what?”

Her father stated, “We never said that!”

For the first time, Rachel realized that everything they’d done, how they treated her all her life had been unconscious. Should she take them to task on all that? Because no matter what they said, she knew in her heart their lack of pride in her was real.

She remembered Sophie’s words, earlier this week.
So, if you die over there, we wanted you to know the truth.

“I’ve had that impression pretty much all my life.”

“We’re sorry, Rachel Anne.” Her dad seemed genuinely confused. “I know we don’t get to see the show every night, but we’re busy people.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which, I only have an hour. Do you want to talk about this more?”

It was time to let go of her resentment. “No, Dad, I just wanted to tell you my plans.”

“When?” her father asked.

“Friday.”

Again they’d voiced their concern. And, despite their treatment, she’d known they’d loved her…

She’d been watching out the window for Becca’s car and when she saw it pull up, Rachel headed out with her suitcase. She slid inside the Volvo—and Becca burst into tears.

Rachel grasped her by the shoulders. “What’s this all about?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

So caught up in herself, she hadn’t thought about her family’s reaction to her choices, and now she was ashamed. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

“I wish you didn’t have to do this to prove something to Mom and Dad.”

“That’s not why I’m going. I want to be part of the solution to some of our world’s problems, just like you do.”