Authors: Rachel Ann Nunes
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Christian, #Religious, #Literary, #Widowers, #Disfigured Children, #Mormon Women, #Charities
This Very Moment (3 page)
Kylee sighed inwardly and forced herself to think about the speech she would make. The sooner it was over, the sooner she could help the children—and the sooner she could get away from Bill Dubrey and the hurtful memories of Nicole.
CHAPTER TWO
Bill was glad when Kylee returned to the table, and that she hadn’t mentioned his past in front of the
crème de la société.
She didn’t seem to hold his embarrassing outburst against him. He steeled himself to endure the dinner with outward good grace, breathing a silent sigh of relief when the insufferable Mrs. Boswell finally turned her lengthy discourses to the latest plight of the United States president rather than his own bachelorhood.
Kylee was good company. She talked easily with the guests at the table, though many were twice her age. If he remembered correctly, she would be thirty-two now. A year younger than Nicole would have been had she lived, and five years younger than Bill.
The first speaker was introduced, a comedian, and Bill enjoyed some of his jokes. Yet he couldn’t relax completely. His eyes kept traveling to the pictures of the children on the near wall. A few of them had second pictures below the first, showing what the child looked like after surgery. But most had no such happy ending—yet.
When one of the singers began her first piece, Bill gave an almost audible sigh of relief. The haunting melody was much more appropriate for the evening’s cause. Even the football player was properly somber as he gave a speech encouraging generous donations.
After the dessert, Kylee arose and went to the microphone, her glittery silver dress hugging her slender figure. Bill noticed that her freckled nose was slightly upturned, which gave her appearance a bit of mischievousness.
As if sensing his thoughts, she smiled, revealing ready dimples on her smooth cheeks. “Thank you so much for being with us tonight. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Kylee Stuart, the fundraising organizer for Children’s Hope Fund. Many of you have been to the fundraising banquets I’ve held for other charities, and I’ve been very pleased with your support. As you know, I research the organizations I work for carefully before involving any of you in their projects, and I’m pleased to say that through all the years of working with deserving charities, this project has touched my heart the most.
“The children who come to the attention of Children’s Hope are very desperate indeed. These are children who mentally possess all of the attributes of normal children, but whose faces—and sometimes their bodies—have been terribly disfigured by birth defects or by accidents. They come from here in the United States, as well as various countries all over the world. I would like to introduce to you tonight, both in person and by video, some of these special children who have benefited from Children’s Hope, and also many more we hope to help with your donations tonight.” Kylee turned, looking toward the far side of the banquet hall where someone waited to dim the lights. For a moment her profile was outlined by the spotlight and her short blond hair glistened like a halo.
They were plunged into darkness for several seconds before the video began. At last the first picture appeared on the screen, a little girl against a black background, her shiny white hair and tentative smile overshadowed by a horribly deformed upper lip and right eye. Without sound, she faded away and another child took her place—a boy this time, who had no nose. A third picture was a baby with Apert syndrome, her face misshapen, the skin on her fingers fused together and looking strangely like the foot of a baby pig. Bill knew surgery on her skull would be necessary as she grew to prevent mental retardation, and there would be more operations to separate her fingers and toes.
On and on the pictures flashed and faded in the still darkness. A child appeared with a sad face, scarred by vicious burns. Bill heard Mrs. Boswell gasp, and though during his training he had seen much worse, he also felt disturbed as a piercing memory of Nicole after the accident flooded his mind. Her skin had been burned so black he couldn’t recognize her. Not even his talent at surgery could make her face flesh again—or make her heart beat. He closed his eyes against the painful assault. He should never have come here tonight. He should have left the invitation in the trash and let Nicole rest in peace.
Softly, an ethereal melody began, delicate strains that at first Bill thought he was imagining. Slowly the sound grew louder and the tempo increased, and he opened his eyes. The children’s faces still flashed on the video screen, larger than life, but now their grotesque features faded into more pleasant and hopeful expressions that Children’s Hope had been able to buy for them. The adults at Bill’s table echoed the smiles of the children. Mrs. Boswell and the other ladies dabbed at their eyes with their embroidered handkerchiefs. A soft sob came from somewhere in the audience.
The music was now full and rich, teeming with hope and happiness. Some of the children in the still pictures were laughing and the music laughed with them. Bill felt those around him relax, and the grip on his own stomach lessened.
Abruptly the music stopped, as though cut off, and words loomed on the screen:
Many Precious Children Still Need Your Help Today.
New pictures flashed before them, more appalling than those that had gone before. This time there was no laughter and no pleasant “after” shots. There was only the mournful changing of one sad little face to the next. Everyone in the room appeared to hold their breath.
After the last picture, the room was once more dark and silent. Then the music began as before, and the lights came on one by one. Bill knew that the show had been purposely designed to evoke the emotions he normally held in check, but even so the effect was powerful. Over the years he had seen many videos created by different charities, but never one that had touched him so profoundly.
Next, Kylee brought out a group of seven children. Bill recognized at least two from the video, but to his relief, the burned child wasn’t present. Two of the little girls looked normal, or nearly so, and these were introduced first.
“I want to thank you,” said one, “for being so generous. Because of people like you, I was able to get my face fixed. Thank you so much.” Tears of gratitude caused her soft voice to break.
Emotion rose in Bill, and the situation only intensified when one of the other children, his face grotesque without a nose, stepped up to the microphone and spoke in faltering English. “Thank you for coming tonight. Thank you for helping me. I can’t say it enough times.” He began to sob quietly, and the other children followed suit, brimming with hope and gratitude.
“You can make the difference for these children.” Kylee’s voice was soft, filled with a sincere plea. Her arms encircled two of the children, her eyes glistening, and suddenly Bill believed in her. Surely the other patrons would as well. Yet no one in the audience moved or said anything.
Bill pulled out his checkbook and wrote hurriedly. He stood, holding up the check as he had seen done at other charity dinners. “I’d like to make a donation.”
“Thank you, Dr. Dubrey.” Kylee’s smile radiated warmth.
A waiter appeared next to Bill and relieved him of the check, taking it to Kylee. “Ten thousand dollars,” she read aloud. “Thank you so much.”
Bill froze. He hadn’t expected Kylee to announce the amount of his donation. By offering his check so publicly, he had wanted to inspire other donations and perhaps make up for his previous cruel words. He certainly hadn’t expected her to set his gift up as a target for others to meet or beat. Not because he was ashamed of the amount—ten thousand dollars from any one person was an impressive sum of money—but because having Kylee announce it like an auctioneer somehow cheapened his genuine interest in helping the children.
Mrs. Boswell elbowed her husband, who jumped to his feet, waving his checkbook. “Well, if the good doctor can be so generous, I think I can as well.” Murmurs of assent rippled through the banquet hall. Bill heard a few people double or triple his donation and saw another round of checks, of amounts unheralded, passed to the hovering waiters. Kylee glowed with the outpouring, but Bill wondered how many people felt forced into donating more than they would have ordinarily because of his contribution. Surely many of them had also bid on the silent auction items, not to mention coming up with the cost of the dinner.
Swallowing the sour taste in his throat, Bill stalked away from his table, and without a backward glance, he left the building. The cool of the late October night obliterated the flush he felt on his face and calmed his nerves.
His BMW was where he had left it, a sleek black that reflected the moon and the lights in the parking lot. He gripped the wheel and brought the engine to life. Once again he felt in control. Yet as he drove away, a picture of the burned child came to his mind, inexplicably sparring with an image of Kylee’s blond hair shimmering like an angel’s halo.
CHAPTER THREE
Kylee was amazed at the flood of generosity, which reached nearly three million dollars before the night ended. From experience, she knew money would continue to trickle in over the next few weeks.
Elaina stood by Kylee with tears in her eyes, her hands full of checks. “It was your wonderful video and your idea to bring the children here in person that made this night so successful. How can we ever thank you?”
“You don’t have to.” Kylee had made many videos for the different charities she had represented over the years, but this video was the best. Even the man she had hired to help her edit it had cried when he watched the final version. Having a few of the children appear in person had been icing on the cake. Maybe this time she could really do some good.
Of course, Bill had sparked off the night with his donation, and she would have to thank him. She scanned the room, but he was nowhere to be seen in the departing crowd.
Someone grabbed her hand.
“Oh, Kylee, you didn’t tell me!” Julius said as he intermittently pumped her hand and patted it. “I never dreamed there were children whose faces are so . . . I mean, you see the commercials on TV with the poor children, but these children—what a horrible, horrible shame!” He shook his head several times, causing the white chef hat on his head to wobble. “I will give you the money back for the dinner. No,” he held up his hand, “I won’t hear you say no. I want to do this to help those poor, unfortunate children!”
Kyle smiled, knowing that she would never have said no. She had learned long ago not to refuse any donation. Julius’s reaction meant that she must have hit on the perfect combination to evoke the support of the public. In all the years she had used him to cater her benefit dinners, he had never donated more than a token amount. He had never, ever gone into his own money for expenses, as he would have to if he returned the entire twenty-four thousand she had given him.
“Less expenses, of course,” Julius added, as though reading her mind.
Now that sounds more like Julius
. “Of course,” she returned. It was still a generous offer.
Maybe she had a chance at convincing Elaina and Troy to put part of the video on TV as a commercial for the charity. If it was as touching as everyone said it was, the television coverage would make much more than she had tonight with the cream of her charity lists. Of course she would have to edit it down from the five minutes it was now.
Kylee collected the checks from Elaina and Troy. She would have to make out receipts and send them with gold embossed thank-you cards before handing the money over to Children’s Hope. But she could do that later.
She put the checks into her portable safe in the small office where she had talked with Bill. On the floor near the desk a white handkerchief caught her eye. It was still folded, but the top layer was wrinkled as though someone had used it to wipe his eyes.
Who’s been in here?
She glanced around hurriedly. No one was supposed to come in this room. It was the one thing she insisted on with each organization she worked for; the building they rented for the banquets must have a private office for her use.
She shook out the handkerchief and saw the embroidered initials
WD
. “Ah, William Dubrey,” she said in relief. Bill must have dropped it when she was checking her makeup. Thinking of him reminded Kylee of Nicole’s horrible death, and tears stung her eyes. She didn’t throw the handkerchief away as she had planned but clutched it tightly to her chest, feeling a deep loneliness.
After several minutes, the grief faded and Kylee was able to function again. She tucked the handkerchief in her purse, picked up her small safe and other belongings, and left the room.
Troy
and Elaina walked with her to her old Camry. “We wouldn’t want someone to jump you in the dark,” Troy said with a laugh. “All that money could be pretty tempting. You know, a life of luxury on the beaches of Brazil or something.”
Kylee shivered in the crisp night air. It was cold even for late October, and she wished she had brought her full-length coat instead of the flimsy sequined jacket that matched her dress. “Well, don’t you worry. I’ll get it all to the bank and into your account first thing Monday morning. Then I’ll fax you over the list of expenses. Of course, there’ll be more donations over the next few weeks, and I’ll be sure to make an accounting of those as soon as I’ve collected everything.”
“I can’t wait to see the final amount.” Elaina’s blue eyes sparkled. “All these years Troy and I’ve been trying so hard to raise the money on our own. We should’ve used a professional fundraising organizer all along. We’re deeply indebted to you.”
Kylee was accustomed to gratitude, but Elaina’s was more profuse than most. The records of Children’s Hope’s dealings since it began five years ago explained why. Kylee had seen for herself the paper trail of how they had scraped by only enough to help a few children each year. Both Troy and Elaina held other jobs to pay their personal expenses, and it was this last discovery that had been the deciding factor for Kylee in agreeing to represent them.
“See you soon.” As Kylee drove off in her blue Camry, she saw Troy put an arm around Elaina, his blond head bending toward hers in a manner more personal than Kylee had ever witnessed between them. Had they become involved? She knew that Troy had been separated from his wife for six months as they finalized their divorce and that Elaina was unmarried. Logically, it would be natural for them to be drawn to one another. Both were attractive; both loved and worked for the same thing. Kylee was grateful to be a part of making their shared dream come true.
She had nearly reached her home in Glendale when she remembered Bill. There was a man whose dream had been utterly destroyed though no fault of his own. How had he endured these last few years alone in a world where no one could share his grief? Why had he left France and his family?
With one hand still on the steering wheel, Kylee took out the handkerchief and brought it to her face. It smelled of spicy aftershave.
Heart thumping loudly, she brought the car to a stop and opened the safe. After a few minutes of searching through the checks and promise notes, she found Bill’s check. His address was located about an hour away in Newport Beach, but if she tried, she could make it before midnight.
Why had he left without saying goodbye?
She stopped by her apartment to put the checks in her more secure alarmed safe, and once back in the car, she consulted her
Thomas Guide
to locate Bill’s address. Following the map’s directions, she took the 5 to the 55 until it ended at Newport Beach. But when she arrived outside the group of condominiums near the address on Bill’s check, she was aggravated to see a gate blocking the entryway. A gated community. She should have known; Newport was filled with such exclusive residences, and Bill was, after all, a well-to-do plastic surgeon. Now she would either have to jump the six-foot fence, ring Bill on the call pad next to the gate, or give up and go home.
Kylee never gave up easily, and she felt even more determined after driving such a long way, so that left two choices. Or one really, because she wasn’t about to give Bill the chance to brush her off. She parked the car on the side of the road and began to climb the fence—not an easy feat in her tight dress. She had to pull the sequined material up to resemble a miniskirt, her face flushing in the dark. If anyone was watching, they would see more than a little of her bare legs—even in the moonlight.
As she climbed, her car keys dug into the soft skin on her palm. To make it worse, her jacket became stuck on the fence, and she had to climb back up to get it down.
Why didn’t I change at home?
But she knew why. She had been so anxious to find Bill that clothing hadn’t entered her mind.
Why do you have to see Bill now?
The question plagued her.
Because he had helped her at the banquet. Because he had left without saying goodbye. Because Nicole was dead, and Kylee had to be sure that Bill was all right. Because if she didn’t come tonight, she might not have the courage tomorrow.
Once her dress and jacket were back in place, she still had a long walk to Bill’s place. Kylee peered through the dark at the address on each condo.
“Stop right there.” A flashlight waved in her face, and Kylee's heart nearly jumped out of her chest. “Who are you?” the deep voice demanded, “and what are you doing here?”
“Kylee Stuart,” she managed. “I’m here to see . . . to see someone.” The man was closer now, and Kylee could see he wore a guard’s uniform and a blue jacket. He had brown hair and a stern face, but she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes. To her relief, he didn’t seem to have a gun.
Just my luck, a gated community with a live guard.
“Why didn’t you ring at the gate?”
Kylee thought fast for an answer. “I . . . I wanted to surprise him.” She took a step back.
Could she run for it?
The guard moved even closer, and Kylee quickly gave up the idea of fleeing. He looked as though he was in good shape, probably better than she was. His eyes traveled over her sequined dress, and Kylee blushed when she realized that he must have seen her climb the gate. “Well, you don’t look like a criminal so I won’t call the police—this time. Come on. Let’s take you back to your car.”
No!
That wasn’t what Kylee wanted at all.
She put a hand on his arm. “Look. I need to see my friend. Please.”
“It’s against the rules.”
“Couldn’t you just bend them once?”
“I could lose my job,” he said, but his voice was less stern.
Kylee pushed. “I won’t let you. I promise. I’ll take full responsibility. Just let me go to his place and see if he lets me in. If he doesn’t, I’ll leave with you.”
The guard hesitated.
“Please. I just found out tonight that his wife died. She was my friend.” Kylee was accustomed to being persuasive, but she experienced a qualm of guilt about using Nicole this way—even though it was the truth.
The guard relented. “Okay then. I’ll watch you knock on his door from a distance.”
“Thank you so much.”
The guard helped her find Bill’s condo, but when they arrived, she was shaking as much with cold as with nervousness. The hand she lifted to ring the doorbell faltered. It was nearly midnight. What if he was sleeping? But he hadn’t left too much earlier than she had, and after the excitement of the evening, she doubted he could be asleep already.
If he is, he can just get up. I might die with the cold if he doesn’t.
Kylee firmly pushed the white button. There was no answer so she jabbed at it again. She had turned to go back down the walk when the door finally opened, and Bill appeared in a sliver of light, wearing a black silk robe. His dark hair was wet and tousled, and when she approached his eyes looked red, as though he’d held them under the shower for a long time. Kylee did this, too—on those rare moments when she thought about Raymond and their brief, tempestuous marriage. The water made the red eyes explainable when tears weren’t supposed to be an option.
Bill’s eyes widened in surprise. “Kylee?”
“Uh, yeah.” Suddenly she was speechless. She, the woman who could normally talk rolls of money out of the hardest of billionaires. It didn’t make sense.
“Do you know what time it is? Never mind, come in out of the cold. You look like you’re freezing.” Bill backed away and opened the door wide. With an inconspicuous nod at the guard, Kylee gladly headed for the light, sighing as the warmth inside the condo rushed out to embrace her.
“In here,” Bill said, leading the way to a comfortable sitting room. “Do you want a blanket? Your lips are kind of blue.”
“It’s not really cold out there. Compared to my hometown in Minnesota this is a heat wave. I’m fine.” She set her car keys on the coffee table.