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“I want more time to focus on these schools. On raising money to open more satellites. And not just here, but in many countries. I’ve been focusing my next satellite school in a small town in Colombia.” He waved one of his security people over, who handed him a folder.
He placed it on the table and motioned to Taran. The first page grabbed her eye as she recognized the logo before zeroing in on the name. Schools First. An organization focused on education around the world.
“Helping Hands.” She let her finger drag over the logo.
“Yes, I’ve been working with the Demodas’ charity. They will be my parent organization. But they have focused their time and energy on food, clothes, shelter, and jobs. This offshoot will focus on schools. Marc and I have been working on the details for over a year.”
Taran skimmed over the pages of information, all organized and well thought out. The focus was on determining what an area needed, whether it was buildings, teachers, access to computers and the internet, or basic supplies like books and pencils. The organization even had areas that would focus on the arts, languages, and physical activity. Three pages were dedicated to building programs for children who struggled to learn for any number of reasons. The plan was to create well-balanced, well-run schools around the world.
The entire time she flipped through the information, she felt his gaze on her. Finally, she shut the folder and glanced back up.
“Are the Demodas why you finally said yes to me?” Taran couldn’t help but wonder how much Marc and Beth had to do with making this happen.
“The reason I chose you to tell the story is multi-pronged.” He glanced back out to the pond. “You’ve done a few fundraising blogs with Marc Demoda over the last three months.”
She nodded. The first had just been Marc donating for views and clicks. But the second two pulled in donations from other major celebrities and even her regular readers.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me Marc’s name was the draw that made those work,” Edgar said. “But it would be naïve of you not to realize that your words, coupled with his status, made it happen.”
“Anyone can write the words.”
He shook his head. “No, they cannot. You have an amazing ability to cut through bullshit while pulling the reader in and telling them how to feel. That is a skill.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had told Taran this. It had been something she’d heard through high school and college. She had the ability to move people, sway ideas, and change minds with just her words, and that was why she wrote them.
“It’s flattering,” she said and shrugged. “If you want me to blog a few times about this, I can. I’m not opposed. Especially with you and Marc championing it. That will tie it into the sports world.”
“That’s not what I want exactly.” He cleared his throat. “Schools First needs someone to run our blog. To help me, and all the other ambassadors of this cause, with sound bites for speeches and interviews.”
She nodded. That made sense. Most charities had someone in that role.
“I want that person to be you.”
“Me? I’m a sports reporter.” She shook her head.
He turned, and his eyes flashed. “I’m well aware of who you are, Ms. Kuppton. I’ve read everything you’ve written, including your piece on Syria.”
Her mouth fell open. No one had ever connected her to her story about her time with the SEALs.
“I don’t go into things blindly. You have a skill set I require, so of course, I looked into you.”
“I, uh, I have—a job,” she stuttered. Honestly, she was barely juggling that and her blog. She had been struggling to keep up. She’d even had to drop weekly two months ago.
“I realize you work for Sports Illustrated, and I’m not asking you to quit. I’m asking you to do this too.”
Taran stared down at the information on the table. Ideas swirled in her brain, but she shook her head as she shut the information folder. This wasn’t something she could do.
“I doubt I’m the right person. You need to find someone who shares your passion.”
He pulled up his phone and clicked a few buttons. A grainy video played. Taran winced as she saw her nineteen-year-old self on the screen. Miss Teen USA pageant. It was one of those moments of her life she felt like she’d only been watching, not participating in. Like the girl on the screen was a totally different person.
Taran stood in a deep purple dress with a sash draped over her shoulder, listening to the question directed at her.
“The one thing I’d do to improve the world is ensure every child learns to read and write. Learning opens doors. But the ability to read is not just knowledge. It’s entertainment. It’s escape. It’s enjoyment. And writing isn’t just words—it’s power. Many things are important. But I say learning first.”
She remembered saying those words. And she couldn’t claim she didn’t believe them now. But she didn’t think she could be passionate about them—or anything. The knot tightened in her chest. She’d fought that knot, keeping it down, but at the moment, she almost didn’t want to fight to keep her feelings away anymore. And that terrified her.
He paused the video.
