AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Let’s take a walk,” she said. We got up, started strolling to the pier, and I slipped my hand around hers as she started to tell me about her dreams for the future.
Chapter 11
Amelia
We walked along the sand until we reached the pier, then started down the weather-worn wooden planks with people body surfing and boogie boarding and splashing below us, off to the side on the sand. The morning sunshine that had brightened our drive to San Clemente was obscured again behind clouds. The sky had been growing more overcast lately, with temperatures starting to drop now that November was here.
“So, for a while now, I’ve wanted to start my own non-profit,” I explained.
Nathaniel’s face lit up. “That’s a great idea! What sort of organization?”
“The idea came to me when I first got my job at University Hospital. I had just started working with patients after my training program and was noticing the differences in the types of patients we would work with. Sometimes we see young adults, occasionally children, and quite a lot of middle-aged and elderly adults. Among the older patients, there’s a specific demographic of people I feel are underserved and need help, those who have no family or support systems who come in for treatments. It breaks my heart.”
He tightened his grasp on my hand, a sympathetic gesture. “I can only imagine it must take a toll on you.”
“It does. It’s why I’m happy to be able to do this kind of work because I want to help people. But it’s hard knowing that not everyone has adequate support. I watch the other patients who have friends and family surrounding them, there to lift them up; people who are committed to being present for them throughout their illness. The long-term outcomes of those patients are much better. It makes a difference in their actual prognosis.”
“I had never thought of it like that, but it rings true,” he said, his face pensive.
“When someone has encouragement, when they have a family member or friend to come to appointments with them, just someone to bethere, it makes a real impact on their journey. But the people who arrive alone, go home alone, and have no support system to speak of… they seem to be fighting a losing battle."
Nathaniel nodded, listening intently, still holding my hand as we sat down on a bench at the end of the pier.
I appreciated that he was listening to me, asking questions. Like he was really interested in what I had to say, wanting to know my plans, my goals, my feelings and worries.
Once I started telling him, it all started pouring out.
“Take for instance one of my favorite patients, Ed. He’s a veteran, an older man, and one of the sweetest people I’ve met so far in the job. He always makes me laugh. Always stays upbeat. But I know deep down he feels the absence of any supportive people in his life. I worry for him. What if his cancer recurs, and he needs to start treatment all over again? Who will be there for him?” I let out a great sigh. It felt good to tell someone my feelings. To have someone listen to how emotional my work could be for me. “Sometimes, after appointments with lonely patients, I have to excuse myself to go and cry.”
Nathaniel squeezed my palm again and brought our clasped hands up so he could stroke my cheek with the backs of his fingers. Then he pulled our hands close and kissed the back of my wrist, all while his fingers were laced with mine.
It wasn’t an asking type of touch; not sexual, and not expecting anything back from me. Just showing me that he cared.
It made my chest flutter.
“Amelia, you’re an amazing woman. Strong, smart, and you have an enormous heart and ability to feel compassion for people. I think your idea for a nonprofit is a wonderful one. Have you looked into the logistics of starting a 501(c)(3)? How would it function, would you arrange home care in addition to rides? Support groups? What would be the optimal place to operate out of? Office space is more affordable in North County…”
I sighed, reminded of how much planning and knowledge would be required to start something so big. “It’s still in the daydreaming phase. It will probably be in that phase forever. I doubt this is something I’ll ever realistically accomplish.”
“Not with that attitude,” he scolded gently. “What about your father? I bet he would support you. He could help you with some initial funding, plus get you started on developing a donor base.”
“But I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”
“Why wouldn’t he be just as proud of you for something like this as he was when you told him you were pursuing your career in radiation therapy?”
I shrugged, not sure what to say. “I don’t know, exactly. It’s just a feeling I get. My dad has always wanted stability for me. Taking chances with money and trying to start a non-profit from the ground up would be a huge risk, and what if I failed? I’m tired of my father swooping in to save the day. I know how privileged I am; I grew up with a lot of creature comforts. A cute car when I turned sixteen. A graduation trip to Europe after I finished high school. So many nice things have been given to me, but if I want to become the woman I hope to be, if I want to make something of myself all on my own, it needs to be without my dad’s hand-outs and generosity. Even if he would be happy to do it.”
“I think there’s a middle ground here,” Nathaniel said, “and maybe it will take you some time to find it. But I have faith in you, Amelia. I know you’ll figure things out, no matter what it is you want. If you put your mind to it, you’ll achieve it. I’m certain of that.”
– – –
The drive back to San Diego was easy, without as many tourists and pleasure-seekers heading to Mexico as there would be during the summer months. The closer we got to Point Loma, I started dreading the moment that Nathaniel would drop me off and wishing for an excuse to spend some more time with him.
When he pulled the car to a stop around the block from my apartment, I reached to open the door. But Nathaniel put a hand on my left forearm, stopping me.
“Wait right there. Let me.” He got out of the car and walked around the front, opened the door for me, and extended his hand like I was a lady exiting a carriage in a Jane Austen novel. Some women might find that patronizing, but I knew Nathaniel didn’t mean it that way. He was just being sweet. Thoughtful.
I stepped out of the car and Nathaniel shut the door. As I leaned back against the passenger door, Nathaniel caged me in with his arms on either side of me, his towering frame above me.
