Page 62 of Passion’s Song

“They have a plan to develop an area that’s over four times the size of my original plan. It would cover several blocks. However, they think this spot would work better than the space I bought up around the Industrial Canal. The proximity to the river and major thoroughfares has more appeal.”

“Well, did you tell them they can’t have this space?”

Damien held his hands out. “How am I supposed to stop them? How can anyone stop them? By the end of the meeting they were already talking about approaching the archdiocese about buying this land. Once a group with that kind of power gets it in their heads to do something, there’s no stopping them.”

April stared at him across the table. Her blood reached boiling levels. “And you’re the one who put it in their heads,” she said.

Damien put his hands up. “Don’t blame me for this.”

“Don’t blame you? Who exactly should I blame then, Damien? We were just fine here in the Ninth Ward, slowly rebuilding our community one brick at a time. Then you come in here with your grand ideas on how to ‘fix’ everything, and now we may lose A Fresh Start? Who do I blame for this?”

“Michael Berger already said that he would be willing to secure a new building for the program.”

“We don’t want a new building. We are just fine exactly where we are.”

“You just got vandalized,” Damien said, pointing toward the gardens.

“Don’t you dare use what happened last night as an excuse.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Damien said. “It’s par for the course when it comes to this neighborhood.” He ran a palm down his face. “Look, I know this news is unexpected, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, April. The McGowan Group can provide the funding you need to turn A Fresh Start into a full-time program. It would be a drop in the bucket for them. Make that one of your demands for having to relocate.”

April wasn’t ready to buy into his silver-lining scenario just yet.

“You trying to paint this picture in a different light doesn’t change the fact that they want to destroy what we’ve built,” she said. “And it also doesn’t change the fact that if it wasn’t for you, this conglomerate would never have put us on their radar. If we allow this to happen, it can change the entire makeup of this community, Damien.”

A thought occurred to her. She looked over at him, and it was as if her eyes were opening for the first time.

“But, then again, that’s what you wanted from the start, isn’t it?” April accused.

He looked at her, then quickly averted his eyes, but April still caught the guilt that flashed across his face.

“I knew it,” she said. She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Despite everything we’ve talked about over these past few weeks, your goal never changed, did it?”

Just as Damien opened his mouth to spout whatever lame excuse he’d prepared, April’s phone rang. She rudely picked it up and answered it, despite being in the middle of a conversation.

“April—” Damien started, but she stopped him, holding a finger up in the universal “give me a minute” gesture.

“This is April Knight,” she answered.

It felt as if every drop of blood drained from her face as she listened to the person on the other end of the line. April closed her eyes and cradled her forehead in her palm.

“Please tell me this is a joke,” she whispered.

“April, what is it?” Damien asked, the concern in his voice coming across clearly.

Ignoring his question, April rose from the table.

“I’ll be right there,” she said to the person on the other end of the line. She disconnected the call and looked over at Damien. “I have to go and take care of something.”

“What is it?” He stood. “Do you need my help?”

“No,” she said. “You’ve helped enough.”

* * *

Damien stood there in the café at A Fresh Start, debating whether he should follow April. But when the alert went off on his phone—his reminder about his lunch with Kurt—he decided against it. If the past ten minutes were any indication of how things would go, April would have probably run him over with her car the minute she saw him.

Instead, Damien drove out to Mid-City, pulling into Kurt’s driveway fifteen minutes after leaving A Fresh Start. He sat behind the wheel, contemplating calling Kurt and rescheduling their weekly lunch. With the mood he was in, he wouldn’t be good company for anybody.