“That sculpture. Judd created that, didn’t he.”
He nodded, then he said...
“It was his idea that I come to his class to see some of the wonderful pieces created by the children--then one thing led to another, and I became a collector.”
She couldn’t bring herself to ask why, because it was obvious. The pieces in this room showed so much promise and she wasn’t a trained critic but she’d learned what she liked, and she could appreciate the beginnings of good talent.
He said...
“I was thinking... On New Year’s Day, my family will host our annual White Ball. Most years, the house is overflowing with art enthusiast. These people love a good cause--and some of these pieces can be auctioned off as a way to generate funds to continue your program next year.”
As a whole, most Non-Samaritans didn’t understand Samaritan creeds and they didn’t fully understand the purpose that drove them.
Ona said...
“My project is fully funded.”
When she said this, Lucien’s face drew a blank causing her to explain further.
“Shortly after the program began, the Conclave informed me about a donor. Since the program works with children, the donor gave the donation in memory of her daughter. The council members had told me that the sum was a substantial amount. They also told me the name of the donor’s deceased daughter.” Ona searched her brain, then she said...
“Amy...Yes. I believe that was the little girls name.”
Lucien’s eyes brightened because he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
He said...
“And the donor... Do you recall her name?”
“Randolph I think. It’s been a while, and I might be wrong.”
“Gloria Wilcox-Randolph” He supplied. Ona stared at him curiously, then hearing the name had jogged her memory.
“Yes.”
She said, then she added...
“I’d never heard the name before but Rachel had. She said that Gloria Wilcox-Randolph is the sister of one of our nations governors.”
“Wyoming.” Lucien flatly added. His thoughts leapt towards Marisela and her family. They fervently believed that Tollin had not been overcome with a form of grief that had caused him to kill himself. But he wasn’t so sure, and hearing Ona speak about the little girls mother added a new spin to this story. He wondered when would it all end for the Randolph’s and the Pettier's.
He was drawn back to the conversation when Ona said...
“So you see--the program is fully funded. And you’ve done so much already and I’m quite certain that the children appreciate your interest but--as for the selling of art to raise funds; it doesn’t work that way.”
He felt like a toggle being pulled in two directions, and he shifted his focus back on Ona--the program and his desire to keep her in a place where he could easily see her.
He said...
“I don’t understand. I thought you explained that as long as donations were submitted first to your Conclave, then the money would be dispersed to fund the program. And as for funding--nonprofits can always use funding.”
She’d never had to explain portions of her Creed and in her mind, it had never needed explaining because she’d grown up knowing no other way.
When she spoke, her words were crisp and eloquent; he’d never seen her demonstrate such a show of confidence.
“Each year Samaritan’s pray, asking God to direct our path, leading us to where our talents are needed most. Since needs are constantly changing, we believe that our pursuits should last no more than one year. As our programs near their ends, we are encouraged to empower the benefactors of our programs and this can be done in a number of ways; but most times the communal Conclave takes charge and they oversee all program dismantlements or transfers.”
Lucien tried to think of this in the same way one would when considering a business merger or buyout. It made sense to allow the governing body to take charge but he wondered how these dangling particulars would affect their fledgling relationship.
He frown when he said...
“But...do the rules apply, even if a project is accomplishing inspiring outcomes?”
“In our Creed, we are taught that every seed has its cycle; as do we. My parents have spent half of their live’s working in Africa constructing schools from the ground up. Even if for some unforeseen reason a school is not completed by years end, my parents must abandon the project, leaving the villagers to complete the task on their own. As a rule, the Conclave expects that during our time spent in prayer, God will impress upon us places where other needs are not being met. In most cases, the Conclave will not approve the same project in consecutive years, but in my parents case, they are one of the few couples that have been exempt from this rule. My parents have devoted their lives to the continent of Africa, and each year they travel to a different country, choosing a region that has been most hard hit. So you see... Even though my project has made a difference in many young lives; unless the Conclave recognizes my project by appointing the exemption clause--at the end of the year, the Conclave will relieve me by assuming my role.”
Lucien felt a strong aversion to her words and he definitely had cause to surge with emotion. He had an emotional investment in her being around and he didn’t like the sound of her hard work being saddled by the Conclave.
He appeared disheartened when he said...
“If you have to submit a new project to your Conclave at the beginning of the new year...then what does that mean for you? I mean to say--will you remain in the city or will you travel elsewhere?”
She shrugged because like most of her people, she didn’t think in those terms. Yet, in her imaginings, she had begun to wonder about Lucien. She wasn’t sure how she would feel not seeing him every week at the Children’s Center but that was as far as she’d allowed her thoughts to go. She’d limited her mental wanderings to the present, steering clear of her future.
Ona sighed, and her exhale was more than a bored release of air. She said...
“In December, I will join the members of my Commune in a prayer service, in which we seek God’s guidance.”
Lucien was more direct because he couldn’t wait until December when she planned to have her conversation with God. She was here and he wanted to know if she planned to stay.
“Ona--some time ago, before Noah and Caleb left, you explained why they weren’t concerned about leaving you here in the city alone.”
He recalled the conversation but not entirely; and he wanted to be certain when he made his point.
She nodded, saying...
“Unmarried members of my Sect are governed by rules. Males may travel freely, but if they leave the country they must be accompanied by at least one of their parents; and age is not a consideration. Unmarried females, such as myself; if we choose not to join our parents, working alongside them--then we must remain in the region of our commune. But there is one stipulation that allows female’s to travel outside of the communal region. Unmarried females may travel with a married coupled appointed by the Conclave, and the parents must give the final approval. In both cases, the unmarried female is considered safe because the members of their commune are extended family and they are responsible for the well-being of Sect members during the absence of the parents.”
He couldn’t understand why most religions placed more restraints on their female’s than the male’s. He’d learned from Rachel that neither of Ona’s brothers were married, but he didn’t think this odd because most of his male acquaintances had taken an oath of bachelorhood, vowing that they would never marry. But in Ona’s case, marriage equaled freedom, and he didn’t know what that meant to her. Would she marry if the cost amounted to her liberation? He didn’t have the answer, so he thought it best to cover every base.