Today Shannon got a phone call from Oliver Botha. I was encouraged by how glad she was to hear his voice. Of course, she did not allow that to sound in her voice. “So, it’s the man who goes around knocking women off their feet.”
“And the woman who chases children in the streets,” he retorted, making her laugh. “I hope you are well?”
“How did you get this number?” she asked, ignoring his politeness.
“Not easily, I assure you. But you told me that you were researching street art for an exhibition, so I imagined you must work for a museum. I called four today before anyone recognized your name.”
Shannon was pleased that he had gone to such lengths to find her. “Well, now you have my attention.”
“I believe I have found the young man you were looking for when we collided last week. He says he would be willing to talk to you, provided you could leave his name out of any text you write for the exhibit.”
“Of course!” Shannon said, suddenly eager and excited. All pretense fell away from her as she jumped to her feet. “Can I meet with him this afternoon? At your office, maybe? Oh, and if he has pictures of his work, he should bring them. What’s his name? Are you sure it’s him?”
“I am sure,” Oliver said, laughing. “Yes, come to my office at four-thirty.”
“How the hell am I supposed to wait that long?” Shannon groaned.
She got the address of his office and whiled away the rest of the day impatiently. The information he offered her was the last piece of the puzzle for her exhibit; with this artist’s contributions, she can bring her proposal to Jace and his supervisor with confidence. She left work early and took a train across town.
The meeting went well. The artist, a young man named Nate who is wary of authority figures, nevertheless likes Oliver, and liked the idea of his artwork being featured in a museum, even if he could not put his name on it. He and Shannon got along famously, after they laughed together about the trouble Shannon had in finding him. Oliver looked on, his heart warmed by both of them.
I should tell you a bit more about Oliver. He works for a program that looks after young men and women in disadvantaged neighborhoods, which is really just a name for those stricken by poverty. He is a brilliant man of twenty-seven, having won a scholarship to not only attend college but to do it in America, while he is from Algeria. His passion is to help people, especially adolescents and children, and to make certain they have safe places to live. In this way he reminds me of Jonathan.
When Nate had left, promising to email several pictures of his work to Shannon, Shannon fell back into her chair across from Oliver’s small desk. “Fantastic,” she sighed, and she meant it—her aura had a warm glow of satisfaction. “I could have put together my proposal without his work, but it would not have been as good.”
“I am glad I could help you,” Oliver said. “And I hope it will be of some help to Nate, as well. He is beginning to look at colleges.”
Shannon snorted. “Well, I don’t think he should put this kind of thing on his applications. But maybe the payment for the feature will make a difference to him. His work is the best of the lot, so I’ll push for a generous portion.” She began to gather her things, her mind racing with everything she still has to do.
“I was rather hoping that there might be some opportunity from this,” Oliver pressed. “Some chance for him to pursue his interest in art in a more—legal setting.”
Shannon paused, considering this. “The museum does have some art classes,” she mused. “And he could tell them his stuff was in the exhibit without getting in trouble. Could get him some references.” She got up, slipping the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll ask around.”
“Thank you,” Oliver said, getting to his feet to shake her hand, but she was already headed out the door.
I caught her on the stairs. “Are you not forgetting something?” I asked her, amused and exasperated.
She stopped short, then went back up and back into the office. “Thank you,” she said, surprising him. She put her purse down with a thump. “Really, thank you. This project is very…” She is unaccustomed to expressing her true emotions, so she struggled with the words. “Well, it’s—I don’t know what—” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Anyway, if you hadn’t tracked Nate down I might never have found him.”
He smiled, bemused and more intrigued than ever. “It was no trouble,” he said.
Shannon looked at him again—really looked, for the first time this evening. “Would you like to get a drink with me?” she asked.
It was abrupt, for me as well as for Oliver. But, looking at her motives, I saw that she was just as interested in Oliver as he was in her. Somewhere deep in herself, she had realized that he had the same passion for his own work that she had discovered in hers, and she wanted to learn more about that feeling. And she likes Oliver, which is enough reason to try and spend more time with him. She has few enough friends in her life.
Oliver considered her offer for a moment, his wide smile spreading wider. “Perhaps I do,” he said. “I have the impression that you are a difficult woman to interpret, but I always did enjoy a challenge.”
“I’m a difficult woman all around,” Shannon said wryly. “At least I know it.”
Oliver chuckled, then sat up straighter as Shannon raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, did you mean now?”
“That’s what I was thinking. Unless you’ve got plans with some other difficult woman?”
Oliver hastily tidied his desk and snatched up his keys. “I rather suspect that you would not tolerate such a thing,” he said, coming around the desk and offering her his arm.
“I certainly would not,” Shannon sniffed. But she smiled at him, and the smile went deeper into him than he would have expected.
I am pleased by this course of events, but I will do what I can to make certain that this goes smoothly and slowly. Rushing into relationships has never been good for Shannon in the past, so I hope to convince her to take it easily this time. We shall see.