The Fortuity Duet Page 4

  I wrapped my arms around my middle, hugging myself in a protective gesture that was instinctive. I knew Dr. Stewart was only lecturing me because he meant well. He wanted me to stay healthy, but I felt like he was criticizing me, and it made me a little bit defensive. “I promise that I’m doing my best. The food services staff on campus has gotten used to me asking questions about everything they serve. It’s to the point where they spout off the sodium content as soon as they see me. When there isn’t a great meal option for me, I hit up the salad bar.” I jerked my thumb towards the backpack I’d left on the chair against the wall. “I always have a water bottle on me to make sure I’m drinking enough. I’ve never been to a kegger and barely touch alcohol. But getting enough sleep and avoiding stress is easier said than done when most of my classmates resort to all-nighters to keep up their grade point average.”

  “I know you’re doing your best, Faith,” he murmured, offering me an encouraging smile as he leaned forward. “But it doesn’t stop me from worrying about you because I also know it’s harder for you than most of my other patients because you’re on your own without a support system in place.”

  I couldn’t argue his point because it was true. The reason I hadn’t been a good candidate for a transplant was because of my home situation, and I was even more alone now than I’d been back then—but better off for it. I shrugged, hoping he’d take the hint and quickly move past my home life—or lack thereof—as a topic of discussion. Even after all this time, I still hadn’t grown accustomed to the doctors and nurses knowing so much about me. With my childhood being what it was, I valued my privacy and didn’t open up to people easily.

  “Despite the challenges you face, you’ve thrived since your transplant. Not just medically, but academically too.” He lowered his voice like he was sharing a secret with me as he continued, “Don’t brag about it out in the waiting room to anyone else, but we consider you our star patient around here.”

  My cheeks filled with heat again, and this time when I shrugged it was out of self-consciousness instead of uneasiness. “Because of that stupid article? I really wish the school hadn’t talked me into doing the interview for it.”

  “No, it’s because you’ve thrived despite the odds stacked against you. Looking at it from a purely statistical point of view, you weren’t a good candidate, but by a twist of fate you got your second chance and proved everyone wrong. My team and I are proud to have been a part of that miracle.”

  Remembering the desperation I’d felt back then, I swallowed down the lump in my throat. My life had hung in the balance, and there hadn’t been anything I could do to control it. My fate had been in the hands of my doctors, and I still wasn’t sure how they’d managed to get me a kidney when my score hadn’t put me anywhere near the top of the list. “And I’m lucky to have all of you on my side.”

  “Do me a favor and keep that in mind when one of us wants to talk about that article you’re so determined to pretend doesn’t exist.” I nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. “We feel like we have a vested interest in you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I sighed, making light of their concern because I didn’t know how else to respond to it.

  “And it isn’t every day one of my patients is recognized for their contribution to our community.”

  I offered him a shy smile. “I think you’re overstating things a bit. I’m not out there saving lives like you guys. I’m just helping to educate a small group of high school kids about their college opportunities like my caseworker did for me.”

  “I think you’re minimizing the impact you’ve had on others. How many of the foster kids starting their freshman year at your college went to a high school you visited?”

  My cheeks heated again. “Most of them.”

  “Maybe you didn’t save those kids, but that’s almost a hundred lives you’ve changed for the better.”

  It was hard to wrap my brain around that number—one hundred and two foster kids had enrolled as freshmen at my school this year. It was a huge increase over the ten of us who’d started there together three years ago, and I couldn’t help but be proud that I’d had something to do with it. “I’m just keeping the promise I made the day I was given a second chance—to put the gift I’ve been given to good use.”

  Dr. Stewart’s kind green eyes narrowed as he searched my face. “Your kidney was a gift, but there’s no debt to pay because of it other than to live your life to the fullest. If helping other foster kids is something you want to do, then keep on doing it. But for you; not for your donor. Honor their gift by being happy.”

  “I do like helping them,” I assured him. It wasn’t just about honoring my donor’s sacrifice. Giving back made me feel like I mattered, at least in some small way. But being happy was an utterly foreign concept to me. It just wasn’t something I thought about.

  I was alive.

  I had a roof over my head and food in my belly.

  I was close to earning my college degree in social work, my major inspired by the difference Sarah had made in my life and the work I’d done with other foster kids.

  Having all of that was a bounty to me. Unexpected and greatly appreciated. But maybe it was time for me to strive for more. To find joy in my life. Somehow.

  4

  Faith

  One week later, I wasn’t any closer to figuring out how to find my happiness. I’d been too busy getting myself ready for the start of the new school year and trying to help the group of incoming freshman I’d been working with prepare for their move onto campus. Most days, it felt like a losing battle. They needed so much and had so little. But that didn’t stop them from giving me a hard time about being a local celebrity after they heard about that dumb article in the paper. Extra time hadn’t helped me with my discomfort over it. And it only got worse when I was called into the public relations office.

  “You want me to do what?” I shook my head, giving her the physical equivalent of the verbal response since I knew better than to actually say no to a higher-up at the school. The state might have been the one picking up the tab for my tuition and fees as part of their exemption program for former foster kids, plus the stipend to help with living expenses, but I didn’t want to end up on anyone’s radar and run the risk of losing it all by getting kicked out of school.

  “One of our donors reached out to us after reading your interview in the newspaper. She’d like to have lunch with you today,” the PR Director explained again.

  Hearing it the second time around didn’t help me make any sense out of what she’d told me. “But why?”

  “Because she wants to help your incoming students outfit their dorm rooms.”

  Shit, I was going to have to say yes. Moving onto campus was an exciting time for most students, but it was also stressful as fuck for foster kids because they didn’t have the same kind of resources. No family to help with the move-in process. Nobody to take them shopping to buy the myriad of things needed for life in the dorm. Or to take them to the campus bookstore to buy school apparel that proudly proclaimed you were a student here—or even just notebooks, pens, and highlighters. If me going to lunch with some lady meant their transition to college was easier than mine had been, then turning down the offer wasn’t an option.

  “Count me in. Where and when?”

  I barely stifled a groan when she named a fancy restaurant several miles off campus. Meeting a big donor there meant I not only needed to change out of the cutoff shorts and T-shirt I was currently wearing, but I probably needed to put on a dress instead of whatever dressy-ish option I would have thrown together if I’d been meeting her anywhere else. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, it wasn’t within easy walking distance so I’d have to figure out how I was getting there. Taking an Uber would only cost about fifteen bucks round trip, but it’d still be a hit to my budget in a month when my move-in expenses already made it tighter than it usually was—which was pretty damn tight.

  Two hours later, I reminded myself how
important the meeting was as I stepped out of the car that’d actually ended up costing me ten bucks one-way. “Looks like I’ll be dipping into my savings account sooner than I thought,” I grumbled, walking towards the front doors of the restaurant. The building was light years apart from the dive I’d waitressed in over the summer to earn the thousand bucks I’d barely managed to sock away for textbooks and emergencies. I needed it to last until I found a job after graduation, and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t touch the money in there unless it was absolutely necessary. I hadn’t expected to dip into it quite so soon, but I didn’t have a cheaper transportation option that would’ve worked today.

  “It is what it is,” I reminded myself. Worrying about it after the fact wasn’t going to do me any good, so I pasted a smile on my face as I walked through the doors. “I’m meeting Elaine Montgomery.”

  The pretty blonde working at the hostess stand looked me up and down before offering me an obviously fake smile. “Right this way. Mrs. Montgomery is already at her table.”

  Following behind her, I had to work hard to keep my smile on my face. If I wasn’t up to snuff for the hostess, what were the odds that a big donor wasn’t going to look down on me? I smoothed down the skirt of my dress and took a few deep breaths to try to calm my nerves. When the hostess stopped at a table, the woman seated there thanked her and rose from her seat. The smile she aimed my way was so big, there was no doubt it was genuine. I bit my lip to stifle a giggle at the hostess’s baffled expression as she walked away.

  “I’m so happy you could make it to lunch, Faith.” She gave me a quick hug before sitting down and waving at the seat across from her. “I hope that wasn’t too familiar, but I feel like I already know you after reading that article and speaking to the school about you. And I’m a hugger. It drives my son crazy because I’m always embarrassing him by hugging him and all his friends.”

  “It’s fine, Mrs. Montgomery,” I reassured her as I sat down, even though it was unusual for me since I didn’t know a lot of people who could be considered huggers.

  “Call me Elaine, please.”

  A hug and a request to use her first name. Huh. So far, the big donor who wanted to meet at a super fancy restaurant was way different from what I’d been expecting. I’d thought she’d be uppity and condescending, but I wasn’t getting that feel from her at all.

  “Will do.”

  “I always feel so old when someone calls me Mrs. Montgomery.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice as she continued, “And it makes me want to look around for my mother-in-law.”

  “Is she here?” I whispered back.

  “Good heavens, no!” she laughed. “She moved to Arizona for the dry heat a couple of years ago, but I still find myself doing it anyway out of habit.”

  “Mrs. Montgomery, it’s a pleasure to have you back again today.”

  Elaine flashed me a smile, her brown eyes twinkling before her gaze darted up to the waiter. I barely stifled a laugh, feeling like I was in on a secret from the waiter.

  “It’s lovely to be back again, Steven.”

  “What can I bring for you ladies to drink?”

  “A bottle of sparkling water for the table, a sweet tea for me, and—”

  When her attention shifted to me, I asked for water with lemon.

  “Can I bring you an appetizer today?”

  Elaine looked at me. “Their stacked Caprese salad is fantastic. It has organic tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella, drizzled with balsamic vinegar with fresh basil.”

  “Sounds great to me.”

  “The Caprese salad, please Steven. And a few minutes to peruse the menu for our lunch selections.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She waited until he walked away to complain, “A ‘Mrs. Montgomery’ and a ‘Ma’am’ all in the span of a few minutes. Is it any wonder I feel old?”

  Since I’d pictured someone much older when the publicity director had told me I was meeting with a big donor, it was easy to say, “You definitely don’t look it.”

  “Thank you, that’s sweet of you to say.”

  We chatted about nothing important for a couple of minutes before the waiter returned with our drinks and the appetizer.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something else to drink? An iced tea? A Coke?” she asked after he took our lunch order.

  “No, thank you. I don’t really do caffeine very often.”

  “A college student who isn’t addicted to coffee? You’re even more unique than I thought.”

  The reason I mostly avoided it was definitely unique for college students. It was important for me to stay hydrated, and caffeine was a diuretic. But I wasn’t one to volunteer personal information to people I didn’t really know—or even those I did. “That’s me. I like to be an original.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly accomplished your goal then”—she spooned some tomatoes and mozzarella onto her plate and then nudged the appetizer my way—“since I don’t know any other college student who has accomplished as much with their volunteer work as you’ve done. Most of my son’s friends only know what volunteer work is because it was a requirement in high school.”

  “I didn’t really think of it as volunteering since it started out with me just calling my old high school and a couple ones nearby and asking if I could come in and talk to any students they had who were in the foster system,” I answered as I served myself. “Something my caseworker had said to me, about not hearing her when she talked to me about the state paying for me to go to college, really stuck with me and I thought maybe I could do something to help other kids in the same situation.”

  “How did it snowball from there into more than a hundred students enrolled as freshmen this year?”

  “That’s harder to answer.” I paused to take a sip of my water while I gathered my thoughts. “I think most of us didn’t hear the information about the programs available to us once we graduated high school because we were focused on surviving each day instead of looking towards the future. Or at least that’s what I assumed since that’s how it was for me.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but you must have come a long way since then to be where you’re at today.”

  I knew I was part of the story, but I didn’t want the focus to remain on me or exactly how far I’d come from the day my mom overdosed. “I figured I could talk to them about what going to college meant to me as a foster kid who had aged out of the system. About the opportunities it presented and the doors it opened. The future it would allow me to have—and them too if they were willing to give college a chance.”

  “I’m assuming they were more receptive to hearing it from you rather than other figures of authority?”

  I nodded. “Apparently foster kids are way more open to listening to someone like me than their caseworker because a group of the ones I talked to at the high schools from my old school district signed up to take the SAT and applied for school. When I was a freshman, there were only about ten of us on campus. There were almost twice that many the next year. Word somehow spread between guidance offices, and it wasn’t long before I got calls asking me to visit more schools. Things just took on a life of its own from there, and now there’s a hundred and two coming in the incoming class this year.”

  “I have a feeling you’re being overly modest.”

  My cheeks heated as I shrugged and stuffed some tomatoes and mozzarella into my mouth because I didn’t know what to say to that. Elaine got the hint, and we polished off the appetizer before the waiter reappeared with our entrees. We talked a little bit about the students I’d worked with who were getting ready to move onto campus the following weekend and what kinds of things foster kids might need that wasn’t covered by the tuition waiver and stipend programs. By the time I finished my chicken Caesar salad, Elaine had come up with a plan for what she wanted to do.

  “I’d like to do some fundraising for the kids; set up a fund where they’ll get gift cards and a little extra cash every month.
”

  I’d been hoping for a little help for the group as they moved into the dorms, and her offer of continued support was more than I expected. “Making the transition from a foster or group home to the college campus can be difficult, so that sounds amazing.”

  “It wouldn’t just be for the freshman class. I’d like to do it for all the foster kids on campus.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes, it doesn’t seem fair for the kids who came before the ones mentioned in the article to be left out just because they’re a little older,” she explained.

  Whoa. It was hard for me to wrap my head around the kind of money it would take to do what she was talking about for a group that big. “I can’t tell you how much I’d appreciate it, and so would all the students. You’d be making a huge difference in a lot of lives.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She waved off my compliment as we got up to leave the restaurant. “I’m just raising a little bit of money. You did all the hard work to help get them on campus in the first place.”

  “It might not seem like much to you, but I can tell you from experience that having some extra cash in your pocket or a gift card to buy a pizza will be a big deal to these kids.”

  “It won’t be much,” she warned.

  Our standards were on opposite sides of the spectrum so I wasn’t certain exactly what she meant by ‘not much,’ but I did know one thing for sure. “It’ll be more than they have right now.”

  “Then I’ll make sure it gets done.”

  We reached the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and I pulled out my cell phone to request a ride back to campus.

  “They can validate your parking if you need it,” Elaine explained, moving towards the Bentley the valet had just parked at the curb. He opened the driver’s side door and stepped out, the engine still running and his attention on her.