“The economy has hit this area hard, and unfortunately we have more needs than resources.” She twines her fingers and leans forward. “Many children are in need of the basics like school supplies and clothing. We’ve set up programs to distribute free school supplies at the beginning of the year to children in need, and we have a Christmas program that provides gifts to struggling families. But there are so many needs that aren’t being met. Health and dental care. Even something as simple as clothing that is new and fits can make the difference between social acceptance and ridicule, especially in middle school.
“We’ve done our best to meet the demand, but there are more children than we have resources. It breaks our hearts to turn children away, but we’ve been forced to this past year.” A frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. “That’s why the Monroe Foundation’s generous offer is a godsend.”
Lexi sits primly in her seat with her hands folded in her lap. “The committee will do everything we can to help The Children’s Home.” Her tone is businesslike, and I wonder if what Evelyn has said has soaked into her head because I’m on the verge of tears. Evelyn’s words have swept me back ten years to the girl in Shelbyville who wanted desperately to fit in but was ostracized because her wardrobe came from Goodwill.
Evelyn and Lexi talk for the next ten minutes about the organization before Evelyn stands. “Well, let’s check it out, shall we?”
Lexi and Reed stand, and I realize I’ve missed where we’re going, reminiscing. Evelyn leads the way, and I follow Lexi down a hall toward the back of the house. The walls are filled with more photographs.
One in particular pulls me closer. The photo is of a girl who looks like she’s about eight with blonde curls and blue eyes. Her face is too thin, but it’s her eyes that suck me in. She looks so haunted and beaten down. The girl looks so much like me in third grade that I freeze.
“Caroline?” Lexi asks.
I glance away from the photo and notice the three of them watching me.
Chapter Nine
“I’m sorry. Did you ask me a question?” My voice shakes.
Evelyn gestures to the wall. “I said that I see you’re drawn to the photos. Our charity has helped children all over middle Tennessee for over two decades. We’ve collected photos over the years.”
The blood rushes from my head. We’ve helped children all over middle Tennessee. “How far south does your assistance extend?”
“A little past Shelbyville.”
The truth hits me square in the face. The girl in the photo is me.
Evelyn and Lexi continue down the hall, but I stumble backward into Reed’s chest, and he catches my elbow. “Are you okay?”
I nod, but I can’t stop staring at the photograph.
“You look like you’re about to get sick.” His voice softens, with only a hint of gruffness.
I feel lightheaded, but I refuse to let him, of all people, see me flustered. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m—”
Reed steps in front of me and looks toward the back of the house. “Caroline is fascinated with the photographs so we’re going to examine them for a minute or so. We’ll follow you in a moment.”
Lexi turns and gives us a curious glance.
“Are you sure?” Evelyn asks. “I’d be happy to wait.”
“You go ahead,” Reed says. “I know how eager Lexi is to see the tutoring center.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Lexi chimes in.
“Well, if you’re sure….” Evelyn seems unconvinced.
“Have I mentioned how excited I am to meet some of the children we’ll be helping?” Lexi takes Evelyn’s arm and leads her out the back door.
Reed’s lowered voice interrupts my thoughts. “Caroline, do you want to sit down or get some fresh air?”
I want to tell him neither, but the photo has shaken me up more than I want to admit. I need to catch my breath. “Outside.”
He leads me out the front door and to a chair on the porch. I’m embarrassed when I sit and clutch the sides of the chair. Why am I reacting this way? I’ve put my past behind me. That little girl in the photo isn’t me, not anymore. Perhaps it’s my mother’s phone call on top of the uncertainty about my future, but the once-familiar feelings of hopelessness and desperation claw their way to my consciousness. They’ve been buried for so long that they burst forth in a frenzied panic and I fight to regain control.
To his credit, Reed doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t hover either. He stands on the other side of the porch, his hand on the railing as he watches the traffic. His dark brown hair blows in the breeze, and his cheeks pinken from the air that has turned colder in the short time we’ve been outside.
As if he reads my train of thought, he slips off his jacket and moves toward me, placing it over my shoulders.
My mouth drops. “Reed, you don’t—”
“I know you find this difficult to believe, but I am capable of being a gentleman.”
“I….” but I stop.” I don’t have the energy to argue with him. “Reed, you don’t have to give me your jacket. I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering, and I’m from Boston. I’m used to the cold. This is nothing.”
I’m shivering but it’s not entirely from the cold. This is the first time in three years I’ve come face to face with my past, and I’m not handling it well. I’m not as strong as I think I am. That alone is unnerving. I fall silent, surprised when Reed continues to stand next to me.