APRIL 2
Dear Sir,
It has been a year since I turned down your generous offer. Father John warned me at the time that I was making a terrible mistake, but I wouldn’t listen. He felt that by dismissing that opportunity I was injuring not only myself, but all the foster children helped by your foundation.
I hope any perceived ingratitude on my part didn’t harm anyone else’s dreams. I wasn’t ungrateful; I just wanted to leave Grace House. A group home is a difficult place to live, and I’d been there for eight years. And even though I knew graduate school meant more education and better job prospects, it also meant living at Grace House another two years. At the time I couldn’t face that prospect.
My heart has always been in my books and writing, but I couldn’t risk losing a paying job to pursue a dream. Now I’m ready to try. Not because I failed, but because this degree gives me the chance to link my passion with my livelihood.
Please let me know if the grant is still available. I will understand if you have selected another candidate.
Sincerely,
Samantha Moore
APRIL 7
Dear Ms. Moore,
The grant for full tuition to the master’s program at Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism remains available. At the strong recommendation of Father John, and due to the confidence he has in you, the director of the Dover Foundation has agreed to give you this second chance. There is, however, one stipulation. The director wants to receive personal progress letters from you as reassurance that this decision was the right one. You may write to him as you would to a journal, letting him know how your studies are going. He has opened a post office box for this purpose so you won’t feel the added pressure of an immediate connection to him or to the foundation. Additionally, he will not write back, but asks that you write to him regularly about “things that matter.”
He recognizes that this is an unusual requirement, but the foundation needs to know that its resources are being used in the best way possible. Given your sudden change of heart, he feels it is not too much to ask. To make this easier for you, he will also remain anonymous. You may write to him at this address under the name George Knightley.
Sincerely,
Laura Temper
Personal Assistant to
Mr. G. Knightley
APRIL 12
Dear Mr. Knightley,
Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. I submitted my application to Medill this morning. I had to use a couple papers on Dickens and Austen in place of the journalism samples requested. While that may count against me, I felt the rest of my application was strong.
If you will allow, I want to honor Father John’s trust and yours by explaining my “sudden change of heart,” as Ms. Temper described it. When I graduated college last spring, I had two opportunities: your grant to fund graduate school or a job at Ernst & Young. In my eagerness to leave Grace House and conquer the world, I chose the job. Six weeks ago I was fired. At the exit meeting my boss claimed I was “unengaged,” especially with regard to peer and client interactions. I did good work there, Mr. Knightley. Good solid work. But “relating” in the workplace is important too, I gather. That’s where I failed.
I’m guessing from your literary choice of pseudonym that you are very likely acquainted with another admirable character from fiction—Elizabeth Bennet, Jane Austen’s complex and enchanting heroine. At Ernst & Young I tried to project Lizzy’s boldness and spirit, but clearly she had a confidence and charm that was more than I could sustain on a daily basis. So now here I am, back at Grace House, taking advantage of the state’s willingness to provide a home for me till I’m twenty-five if I stay in school.
Nevertheless, Father John still doubts me and couldn’t resist a lecture this morning. I tried to listen, but my eyes wandered around his office: photographs of all the children who have passed through Grace House cover every space that isn’t taken up with books. He loves murder mysteries: Agatha Christie, James Patterson, Alex Powell, P. D. James, Patricia Cornwell . . . I’ve read most of them. The first day we met, right before I turned fifteen, he challenged me to stretch beyond the classics.
“Are you listening, Sam?” Father John finally noticed my wandering eyes. “The Medill program is straight up your alley. You’re a great reader and writer.”
“ ‘I deserve neither such praise nor such censure. I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.’ ” Elizabeth Bennet has a useful reply for every situation.
Father John gave a small smile, and I flinched. “What if I can’t do this?” I asked. “Maybe it’s a mistake.”
He sat back in his chair and took a slow breath. Eyebrows down, mouth in a line.
“Then turn this down—again—and find another job. Pound the pavement quickly, though. I can give you a couple weeks here to get on your feet, then my hands are tied.” He leaned forward. “Sam, I’ll always help you. But after this, if you’re not in school, Grace House is closed to you. This foundation helps a lot of kids here, and I won’t jeopardize that support because you can’t commit. So decide right now.”
A tear rolled down my cheek. Father John never gets charged up, but I deserved it. I should only be grateful to you both, and here I was questioning your help. But help is hard, Mr. Knightley—even when I desperately need it. Every foster placement of my childhood was intended to help me; every new social worker tried to help my case; when I was sent back home at twelve, the judge meant to help my life too . . . I’m so tired of help.
“I’m sorry, Father John, you’re right. I want this grant and I asked for it again. I must seem so ungrateful to you, to be questioning again.”
“You don’t, Sam, and I can understand wanting to stand alone. Even in the best of times and circumstances, it’s hard to accept help—”
