“What makes you think that I’m going into my office with Mr. Delors?”

“You have to go to your office because you cannot conduct business out here.  It’s to loud, and there are too many distractions.”

“Rachel...now I’m confused.  You still haven’t explained the coat.”

Rachel said...

“Caleb usually catches one of the evening ferries from your  barge.  He stops at the Samaritan cafe on the dock for a coffee, then he hightails it here, and waits until it’s time for you to go home.”

Ona’s eyes were fixed, glossed with bewilderment.  She still wasn’t following.

“Ona--I’m going to the dock to share a coffee or two with your brother.  I plan to keep him engrossed, in a two hour conversation.”

Over the past few months, Caleb and Rachel had grown close and frequently they met to share a cup of coffee.

Ona studied Rachel’s face, because she wasn’t sure that this plan would work.  Mainly the part about her and Lucien talking alone in her teeny tiny office.

She looked at Lucien because until now, she realized that he had not taken part in the conversation.

Lucien scanned the area, paying close attention to the overcrowded space.  He drew in a breath, then he broke his silence...

“I want to support you--but I’ll do it under your terms.  We aren’t here to put any pressure on you.”

Ona felt the tug of war in her brain and she wanted someone else to make the choice.  She needed so many things but she didn’t know how to ask outsiders for help.

When she felt like she’d been pushed into a corner, Ona looked to Rachel for whatever help she could give.  But when she spoke, her advice had not been what she’d hoped to hear.

“Ona, we’re running out of time.  Go to your office.  Talk to Mr. Delors.  Or you can let him do the talking.  Whatever works best for you.”

Rachel waved her hand over her head, and with her back to  them, she said...

“Make good use of your time.  And try to hammer something out in a little less than an hour.”

With that said; Rachel was out the door, heading in the direction of the dock.

There was silence, but a wave of emotion bounced from him to her, then back to him.  They each were in a repeating line of thought.  What do I do?  What do I do?  What do I do?

A minute passed, when Lucien broke the repeating chorus.

“If I remember correctly, you took up office space near the loading dock.”

Ona nervously smiled, because there was no way out of this and Rachel had been right.  If the Conclave couldn’t help, then her only answer was to secure a private donor.

A few days after the opening, Lucien had been given the grand tour but this was the first time he’d been in Ona’s office.  He didn’t see anything special or eye catching.  The walls were a cold concrete grey, adorned with charts and schedules instead of pictures.  Even her chair was one of those uncomfortable metal all purpose folding chairs.

Ona pointed towards one of the chairs, urging him to sit and she rounded the desk to sit behind the desk.  There was a layer of dust on Lucien’s chair and he sat because he suspected that she hadn’t noticed this.  She appeared nervous and he didn’t want to do anything that might add to her uneasiness.

Lucien said...

“I read a story in the paper this morning.  According to the reporter, news about this project has reached the mayors office.  That’s a big deal.”

She shyly said...

“I’m not interested in accolades.  As a Samaritan, my purpose is to be a helper of mankind.”

“But...aren’t you proud of your progress?  Ona...you were in the hospital for two months, and you organized the guts and foundation for this program from your hospital bed.  Your accomplishment was extraordinary.”

His face displayed his admiration, and in his eyes she could see that he was proud of her.  She wasn’t heartless and she understood his reason for complementing her; yet, she didn’t understand why his praised meant more to her than her parents or her brothers.

Ona spoke low when she said...

“I had a lot of help and there’s still so much more than needs to be done.”

“Yes.  Rachel explained your dilemma.  You need funding for a larger facility.”

Ona raised her hand when she spoke.

“I’m sorry but...I feel wrong taking money from you.  It isn’t right.”

“Ona...I insist.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No I don’t.  So, please explain.”

Her eyes spread wide, because when she began the search in her brain, her rummaging came up empty.  In truth, there was no reason not to accept his aid.  In her head, Ona saw the last group of kids that she should have rightfully turned away--and she couldn’t.

She said...

“If you do this...it’s for the children you know.  And there are proper procedures that will have to be observed.”

He smiled, then said...

“Not a problem.  And I can count on your help to guide me through the process.”

Her brow rose in question, then her forehead lowered forming a frown.  She said...

“Uh...oh, yes--I guess I will need to explain the Conclave procedures won’t I.”

“Yes, you will.”  He said, then his brain leapt forward.  When he learned the Conclave procedures, he planned to be rock head dumb.  Lucien supposed the process may take an entire afternoon if he pretended to have a reading disability; and of course, this meeting would include a meal.  Oh, yes; things were shaping up just fine.

**********

“How was your coffee with Rachel?”

Ona was spooning up a bowl of soup for Caleb.  The question had been meant for him, but Noah spoke first.

“Rachel?  Isn’t she the young lady that’s volunteering at your program?  The nurse, right.”

Noah pulled out his chair, then sat at the dining table.  Her brother was home on one of his scheduled days off, and Geff had joined him.  She was thankful that Samaritan customs prohibited non-related males to enter a family home, unless one of the parents were there, acting as chaperone.  This rule was enforced if the male had marriage in mind, and within her family, they all knew about Geff’s intentions.

Ona handed Caleb his bowl, and he avoided eye contact when he said...

“Coffee was fine.”

Noah said...

“You met the nurse for coffee?”

“Yes...I thought I’d made that clear.”

Noah asked

“Was this just a one time thing or have you met her more than that one time?”

Ona joined them at the table, then she said...

“According to Rachel, they’ve been meeting once or twice each week .”

Caleb rolled his eyes, then he shoveled a spoonful of soup in his mouth.  He remained quiet on the subject, and he hoped that the topic would drop.  With their parents out of the country, it was Noah’s responsibility to handle family issues.  Even though they were all adults, and responsible for their own lives, Noah believe it was his duty to continue his inquiry.  His arm rested on the edge of the table with empty spoon in hand.

Noah said...

“Are these meetings concerning Ona’s project or are you meeting her for other reasons.”

Caleb raised his head without lifting his eyes.  His face held a strained expression when he said...

“A little bit of both.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I could but...I’m not sure how to answer you.”

Ona studied Noah’s face, waiting for him to respond.  One brow rose, as if he were engross in heavy thought.  When he traded a glance with her, they both knew what Caleb had meant.  Caleb wasn’t bound by the Samaritan Creed like they were.  If he decided to marry outside of their Sect, he could do so; but his choice would amount to him being excommunicated.  He would be band from entering any Samaritan communes, and he couldn’t set foot on the inside of a Samaritan Conclave.  In short, he would be banished, and Ona had known this growing up as a kid.  They’d all known this, but the topic wasn’t something they ever discussed.  The notion was to painful too consider.