Eternity by Heather Terrell Page B

decorations. Whatever we end up with will be good enough for the people who come, the ones who genuinely care. Instead, we should be focusing on educating kids about the disaster. So they’ll want to help.”
    While the rest of us listened—even Amanda—Rafe explained that the party was a prime opportunity to reveal what the news reports didn’t. He argued that the media was understating the damages. With compassion and persuasion, he spouted off specific data about the number of people killed and injured in each earthquake region and the economic and agricultural harm suffered in those sectors. Data that made the earthquakes seem so much more real, and more deadly, than I’d ever imagined. I knew I needed to hear the information he had at his fingertips, but I didn’t like it one bit.
    No one spoke after Rafe finished. His message inspired that kind of quiet reverence, as did his delivery. His coarse, challenging exterior masked a thoughtful, surprisingly tender interior. I liked the combination. Especially compared to Michael’s current football focus.
    Slowly and deliberately, Amanda stood up. Placing her hands on her hips, she said, “Thank you for your lecture, Rafe. If what you say is true, it is important information indeed. However, this is the party planning subcommittee. Perhaps your interests would be better suited to another subcommittee. You are welcome to take your talents elsewhere.”
    Amanda had finally silenced Rafe. I had been wondering the same thing myself. Why had he picked this subcommittee out of all the choices available?
    The entire group held their breaths as Rafe made his decision. He glanced over at me for a split second and then said, “I’ll stick with this one.”
    Amanda beamed in victory. “Good, glad to have you. However, given your views, I think I’ll take you off the decorations assignment, Rafe. The kids wouldn’t want to see some gruesome news photos plastered on the walls that you might deem suitable or educational, while they’re at a party. I think I’ll put you on the food donations assignment with”—she paused to look at her list—“Ellie Faneuil.”
    I didn’t know how to feel about Rafe’s new assignment.
    The meeting broke up a few minutes later. As I gathered my bag to leave, Rafe came over to my side.
    “I guess we’ll be working together on food and drink donations for the party,” he muttered, a bit sheepishly.
    “Amanda made that pretty clear.” I smiled as we left the meeting room and entered the darkened hallway. “She sure let you have it tonight. Although, for whatever it’s worth, I agree with you.”
    Instead of responding, he held open the doors leading to the parking lot and asked, “What’s your game plan for getting donations?”
    “I thought we’d start out by calling the restaurants and markets tomorrow night. That way, we could narrow down the ones that might actually commit to a donation.”
    “What if we went door-to-door instead? We might have more luck if we pleaded our case in person?”
    “That could take hours, Rafe, if not a couple of evenings.”
    “I’d rather spend the time than come up empty-handed.” He smirked and mock swaggered. “Plus, I can be pretty persuasive when I try.”
    I smirked back. I couldn’t resist saying, “Like tonight with Amanda?”
    If it wasn’t so dark, I felt certain that I would’ve seen the rugged Rafe blush. He ignored my comment and continued talking about our approach. Tomorrow during the day we’d be too busy with school to make a decision, he maintained, and we needed to hit the ground running tomorrow night.
    As we strolled through the chilly parking lot toward my car, I had to laugh at the persistence—and earnestness—of Rafe’s arguments. I was on the verge of agreeing to meet him in downtown Tillinghast the next night, when we came across a guy I didn’t know but who seemed familiar from the larger committee meeting, sitting on the ground next to his beat-up, brown