More Than Words: Stories of Hope (14 page)

Dear Reader,

The story you just read is fiction, but sometimes authors take bits and pieces from their own experiences and weave them into their stories. At age nine, our son had his first kidney transplant; at fourteen, his second. The “Come back when you grow” line was said to our son when he so desperately wanted to play for the local baseball team. And yes, his heart was broken.

There was no Deb Fruend in our area, no organization like TASK. And we, I’m sorry to say, didn’t think to start an organization like TASK—for our son, for other children who had to fight so hard, who just wanted to be children.

Now you’ve read this story…this fiction. Now you know that when people care, when people get involved, a child’s world can be changed for the better. That’s
not
fiction.

Please go to www.tasksports.org and read the story of TASK. And when you do, remember, there are children out there, parents out there, who would give anything to have an organization like TASK in their own community.

Maybe you can do something. Maybe you can help. Because children need more than words….

Thank you,

W
ho could have imagined back in 1984 that a small seed of an idea would eventually grow to become one of the world’s foremost supportive organizations of literacy for visually impaired children and their families? Debra Bonde, founder and executive director of Seedlings Braille Books for Children in Livonia, Michigan, can scarcely believe it herself—and it was her brainchild.

It was 1978 when Debra began wondering what she could do to make a difference in the world.

“Our job on earth is to help other people, but I was so incredibly shy that it made it very difficult. I needed to come up with a vocation where I could help other people—without talking to other people,” she says with a laugh.

She stumbled into braille transcription almost by accident
after speaking with a transcriber. She soon signed up for a community-based class and immediately fell in love with the detailed work. But it wasn’t until she spoke to another student in the class—a mother with a visually impaired daughter—that she realized how few books for children were ever produced in braille. The young girl owned only two books, despite the fact that she lived in an affluent suburb.

“It tugged at my heartstrings because it was appalling that there were so few braille books available, and those that existed were generally very expensive—like a hundred dollars for a Hardy Boys book,” Debra says.

Joy and wonder

After volunteering as a transcriber and giving birth to her daughters, Anna and Megan, Debra turned her attention to transcribing books for children exclusively. She cherished the time spent reading to her daughters, who had perfect sight, as they shared the gift of literacy through their growing collection of books. Why couldn’t blind and visually impaired children experience the same joy and wonderment as her own kids? Debra vowed to find a way to erase the inexcusable disparity between blind and sighted children, to make children’s books in braille more accessible and affordable.

In 1983, Debra acquired one of the first computer braille
transcribing programs. Her father, Ray Stewart, stepped in and modified her antiquated Perkins Brailler from manual to electric, and Debra began printing the books from her basement. In the first year, Seedlings developed twelve books for the catalog. The project was on its way.

Despite her extreme shyness, Debra mustered the courage to solicit donations to subsidize book production. Between running her house and taking care of her kids, she also burned the midnight oil, arranging for grants.

And the hard work paid off. In 1985, Debra produced 221 books in her basement office. By 1990, Seedlings was producing five thousand books per year. At last count Seedlings, which employs nine people and uses dozens of volunteers, has produced more than 300,000 braille books for blind children all over the U.S., Canada and over fifty countries around the world.

A vision grows

Although Seedlings created strictly “braille only” books in the beginning, parents and teachers approached Debra with requests for other options. Now Seedlings also offers print-braille-and-picture books for toddlers and preschoolers, board books with braille superimposed over the pictures using clear plastic strips with an adhesive backing. The organization also moved into fiction and nonfiction for older
children. Then there are the Seedlings books that run printed text above the braille so sighted children can read along with a blind parent or vice versa.
Goodnight Moon
remains Seedlings’ all-time bestseller.

Not surprisingly, Seedlings has moved out of Debra’s basement and into an office not far away. But despite the increased cost in keeping Seedlings afloat, Debra does everything she can—from using volunteer labor to recycling—to ensure the books sell for an average of only ten dollars.

“Most companies will make something for ten dollars and sell it for twenty. We make these books for twenty dollars and sell them for ten. I would lower the prices even more if I could,” she says.

Despite the long hours and low pay, Debra stays driven because she knows her books have a huge impact on young children who might not ever have become literate in braille without access to books they love at the beginning of their reading career.

Take one young woman, Heather, for example, once one of Debra’s most voracious readers and supporters. When Heather was ten, she asked friends coming to her birthday party to give donations to Seedlings in lieu of presents. Today Heather is a university graduate currently attending law school in Ottawa, Ontario.

“Just knowing that we’ve had a positive influence on lives like hers makes it all worthwhile,” says Debra.

The freedom to learn

In the past years Seedlings has expanded its scope to offer programs to encourage children to love the written word. The thriving nonprofit organization offers the Rose Project, which provides free encyclopedia articles in braille. Children working on projects contact Seedlings by phone, fax, e-mail or via its Web site and request the information. Seedlings staff pull the articles from the World Book CD into their computers, translate them into braille, print them and send them out by courier or mail—usually the same day. For the first time blind students have access to the same research materials as their sighted friends.

Seedlings also offers “Hooray for Braille” kits, which introduce Michigan families of blind babies and preschoolers to braille literacy. Debra hopes to open the programs to other states if funding increases.

But the project closest to Debra’s heart is the Book Angel Project. Eight years ago a drunk driver killed Debra’s nineteen-year-old daughter, Anna, as she was on her way to New Orleans to tutor disadvantaged children. Memorial donations immediately flooded in. Today that money is used to send at least ten free books out to children in Anna’s name each week.

Despite her grief over Anna’s death, Debra never swayed from her dream to give visually impaired kids a chance to foster a love of reading. But even with the incredible successes Seedlings gains every day, Debra says they still have a long way to go.

“Even with all our effort, less than five percent of all books out there in print are transcribed into braille,” she maintains. “We still have a ton of work to do.”

For more information visit www.seedlings.org or write to Seedlings Braille Books for Children, 14151 Farmington Road, Livonia, MI 48154.

T
OUCHED BY
L
OVE

Bestselling author Catherine Mann writes contemporary military romances, a natural fit since she’s married to her very own USAF research source. Prior to publication, Catherine graduated with a B.A. in fine arts: theater from the College of Charleston, and received her master’s degree in theater from UNC Greensboro. Now a RITA
^®
Award winner, Catherine finds following her aviator husband around the world with four children, a beagle and a tabby in tow offers her endless inspiration for new plots. Learn more about her work, as well as her adventures in military life, by visiting her Web site: http://catherinemann.com.

L
ibrarian Anna Bonneau was well on her way to landing in the pokey. And that’s exactly where she wanted to be.

She’d handcuffed herself to a park bench in protest all afternoon, and though she’d spent the time reading—hardly a hardship since books were her life—she was beginning to suffer a real case of fanny fatigue while waiting for the police to take notice.

Finally, a cop cruiser squealed to a stop by the curb.

She should have realized the small-town police wouldn’t have a problem with her sit-down protest until closing time—5:00 p.m. The recreation area was empty except for autumn
trees awash with colors and swings twisting in the breeze off Lake Huron.

Anna’s mother used to bring her to the park for tea parties, but she had died in a car accident when Anna was only twelve. That had been the most difficult time in Anna’s life. Her father—a local retired judge—had tried to continue the picnic tradition, but their differences of opinion during her teenage years made things difficult.

All in the past. Right now Anna did her best to focus on her book while making a peripheral check of the police officer stretching out of his cruiser. Finally, progress for her cause.

She’d always wanted to be a librarian, and landing a job in her sleepy hometown of Oscoda, Michigan, was a dream come true. She’d worked for three years in a library in the Detroit area, waiting for this position to come open.

Two weeks from now, she would start her job. And there was no way she was going to let the shortsighted members of the town planning commission rip up this park to plop a “gentlemen’s club” restaurant and bar right beside
her
library.

She shifted her numb backside off the metal bench, which was growing cooler by the second in the autumn temperature, all the while keeping her eyes firmly focused on rereading a Suzanne Brockmann reissue. Yes, Anna adored her romance novels as much as the long-ago classics.

A child’s scream pierced the air.

Anna jolted up from her seat, only to be yanked back down by the handcuff—
ouch
. Her book fell to the ground as she caught sight of a man with a kid in his arms rapidly gaining ground on the approaching police officer. Howling shrieks echoed in the silence of the park, tugging at her heart until she recognized the man with the child—someone she’d hoped never to lay eyes on again after he’d broken her heart in high school.

Forest Jameson.

As he crossed the lawn toward her, Anna’s stomach back-flipped—just as it had when she’d first seen him bat one over the fence at the baseball field. He was a hunk, but too uptight during their teenage years. She’d heard he’d come home about four months ago to set up a legal practice in her father’s former office, but she hadn’t seen him since her return a week ago.

Why was he at the park, and why was he hauling a child? They could have come here to play—not that the kid sounded happy. Forest was likely here because her father, his long-ago mentor, had called and asked him to save Anne from spending a night in jail.

The cop, old Officer Smitty, stopped short of her bench. Closely following, Forest juggled the boy, a briefcase and a tote bag stuffed with toys.

“Anna.” He nodded a greeting. “You still look the same.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that, but before she could answer, he’d turned back to the child.

Forest jostled the wailing, magenta-faced kid. Tears streamed down his cheeks behind the small sunglasses the boy wore. “Hang on, Joey. Just a few minutes and we’ll be through here. I promise, son.”

His son? Anna quickly checked out Forest’s ring finger. Bare. She didn’t want to think about the little zing of relief she felt.

Forest met her gaze. “Divorced and the nanny quit.”

His tight-lipped answer engendered sympathy, along with embarrassment at her obvious interest.

Forest strode over to the cop. “I’m here to represent the interests of Ms. Bonneau.”

Well, sheesh. Wasn’t that convenient? “Uh, hello? Miss Bonneau has something to say about that.”

The child—around four, maybe?—arched his back, pumping his feet. “I want to go home!”

“Well, you’re not going anywhere if you don’t settle down.” The calmly stated parental threat was betrayed by Forest’s harried expression.

Officer Smitty jumped in with a universal key and unlocked the handcuffs confining her to the bench. “H’lo, Miss Bonneau. How about you take care of this little stinker and I’ll have a conversation with the lawyer?”

Click
. The handcuffs fell away, ending her latest protest, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Maybe she would
ride this one out and see what Forest had to say—in the interest of being entertained. Right?

She snagged her book from the ground, placed it on the bench and reached for little Joey. He didn’t even loosen his lock hold on his dad’s neck. Single-parent Forest was clearly overwhelmed.

Hmm. It seemed he needed her to bail him out more than she did him. She might have wanted her standard quick stop in jail, but her father said Forest never lost his cases, so she would simply stay near enough to listen until she came up with plan B.

And the kid surely was a heart-tugger. “Could I take him for you while you work your attorney magic?”

Forest hesitated, which irked her to no end. Finally, he nodded and eased the boy’s arms from around his neck, speaking the whole time. “It’s okay, son. This is Miss Anna. She’s going to play with you while I talk business. Okay?”

Joey hiccuped. “’Kay.” His chocolate-colored curls stuck to his head with tantrum-induced sweat. “Can I go swing?”

“Of course.” Forest passed Joey to her. “Anna? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

If he was surprised that she’d guessed his reason for being here, he sure didn’t show it.

“Not at all.”

She took the child, a solid weight. The scent of baby shampoo and sweat soothed her with its sweet innocence. The
little guy was a cutie in his striped overalls, conductor’s cap and Thomas the Train sunglasses.

Forest opened his mouth as if to speak further, but Anna turned away. Her nerves were on edge, and she was having trouble resisting the temptation to stare at the grown-up Forest. She used to watch him volunteering with Little Leaguers back in high school, and his gentleness with his son could well draw her in the same way.

She headed toward the swings, offering soothing words both for herself and Joey.

“Can you sit in the swing and hold me, please?” Joey asked.

“Of course, sweetie.”

This was easier than she thought. She could hold the child, keep him happy
and
listen to the two men decide her fate as if she weren’t even there.
Grrr
. She tickled Joey’s chin with the tail of her braid until he chortled. His sunglasses were the cutest things she’d ever seen.

Unable to resist gloating at her success in calming the little guy, Anna glanced past Joey to his father. Bummer. Forest hadn’t even noticed. He was too busy unloading kid gear. As he placed the toy bag and briefcase on the bench, his suit coat gaped open to reveal a broad chest covered by his crisp white shirt. She swallowed hard.

He whipped off his steel-rimmed glasses and snatched a tissue from the briefcase to clean away the evening mist. Anna’s
breath hitched. Even as she swung with Joey, she could see Forest’s blue eyes glittering like a shaken bottle of soda water.

Darn it, she wouldn’t let herself forget that he had left town without so much as a farewell.

“Miss Anna, higher!” Joey squealed, yanking her braid. “Miss Anna, let’s go higher.”

Joey had the strength of a fifth-grader, and Anna welcomed the wake-up call.

Why couldn’t her father understand she believed in justice as strongly as he did? She merely approached it from a different angle, organizing protests since her first petition in the second grade for new monkey bars in the playground.

The men finished their discussion and the older cop ambled off to his patrol car. Forest strode toward her with determined steps and held his arms out for his son, tapping the boy on the shoulder. “Time to go, Joey.”

The little fella pivoted in her lap and launched himself at his dad with obvious affection. This time, however, he squirmed down to walk, holding his dad’s hand.

Anna eased herself up from the swing. “What’s the verdict?”

“Since we made it out of here before closing, you got off with a simple ticket, but no jail time.”

“I guess that will have to do, but I was hoping we could squeeze in some news coverage.”

A tight smile crooked his perfectly sculpted mouth as he
mimicked her voice. “Why, thank you, Forest, for keeping me from paying an expensive fine. And heaven forbid I might have actually had to go to jail and eat their fine cuisine. It’s great to see you again.”

She slumped back in the swing. He had gone to a lot of trouble for her and she was being ungrateful. “Thank you for your time and help. It’s, uh, good to see you, too.”

Even if it had cost her the short stint in jail and a much-coveted feature in the weekly local newspaper.

Forest shrugged through the kink in his neck and picked up the pace as he made his way back to his truck in the now-dark park, carefully leading his son around trees and over jutting roots.

Anna had seriously snagged his attention in high school, even if she was more than a little quirky. And yeah, spunky. He’d admired those qualities, even though he’d craved normalcy after a lifetime spent with parents who hip-hopped from one outrageous commune to another. But she sure was pretty and he knew her beauty owed nothing to the pricey spa treatments his ex craved.

His newest client wore her corn-silk blond hair in a single thick braid down her back. Her hair had a bit of spring to it in the curl at the end of the braid and the stray wisps teasing cheeks pink from the cool lake breeze.

Her fresh-scrubbed face glowed with health, even the freckles dotting her nose. The flowing green dress she wore, with its sunflower pattern, and her cheery yellow sweater brightened the drab overcast evening.

But despite her uncomplicated beauty, understanding Anna required more study than the bar exam. Forest had given up second-guessing her when she’d staged a protest outside his high-school baseball game. She and a group of her friends had handcuffed themselves to bike racks in a protest against budget cuts that cost the chorus teacher his job, while leaving the sports budget intact.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

She strolled past him to the bicycle stand. “I rode my mountain bike.”

Anna worked the lock that secured her bike to the metal rack while Officer Smitty fired up his cruiser over by the curb. Forest sighed at the inevitable.

“Let me give you a ride. We can store your bike in the back of my truck.”

Still she didn’t face him, just stowed her lock and wheeled her bike backward. Was that a yes or no?

He couldn’t let her pedal off in the dark. Even in this sleepy little town, with Officer Smitty readying to cruise the streets, it wasn’t all that safe for an attractive woman to be out alone on the backwoods roads that ran along the lake. Shoot, he was
here in the first place to watch over her because of the debt he owed Judge Bonneau for mentoring him during the year his parents spent in Oscoda—their longest stint anywhere in his entire life.

The cop rolled down his car window and nodded to Forest. “Good evening, Counselor. Quite a change from your regular stuff, with, uh—”

“Insurance litigation.” Forest smiled tightly as the wind wafted the scent of vanilla. He was mighty sure that didn’t come from Smitty or Joey. “Every client’s important.”

Anna waved to the cop. “Hi, Officer Smitty. Hope to see you at the recycling drive this coming weekend. Make it a family day. There’ll be treats for the kids.”

“Thanks for the tip. I’m always looking for things to occupy the girls on my weekend with them.” He nodded sympathetically to Forest, another single father.

Anna pulled a flyer from her oversize backpack and passed it to the cop. “Always happy to help out. About my handcuffs—”

Smitty had begun to roll his window up again. “Oh, right. Here ya go.”

Forest waited while Anna chatted with Smitty about his kids. Joey ran circles around him, trailing his hand around his father’s knees as he wore himself out. Anna flung her braid over her shoulder, her face animated and her eyes sparkling as she spoke to the police officer.

Beautiful eyes.

Forest almost dropped the tote bag full of toys.

Maybe he should start dating again. He’d been celibate since his divorce three years ago, but he didn’t trust his judgment in women. He and Paula had seemed a perfect match with shared dreams, but it hadn’t worked. He definitely wasn’t ready for a relationship, especially not with a woman who was trouble incarnate.

Besides, his son needed him as he grew up without the love and care of a mother to help him through the tough times ahead.

Forest snagged Anna’s helmet from her handlebars to impede any thoughts of escape. Her tantalizing vanilla fragrance teased his nose. “Anna, can we speed this along? I need to get Joey fed and tucked into bed.”

He could almost feel the wind whipping over him. Countless summers, he’d tooled around the country in his parents’ motorcycle sidecar. Other children, kids blessed with family trips in the comfort of a station wagon, had giggled and pointed. Forest’s grip tightened on the helmet buckle.

He would take her home to her little cottage on the water and then his debt to the judge would be canceled.

So why did that vanilla scent seem to taunt him, making him believe that Anna was back in his life for a reason?

Anna knew when to fight and when to surrender with grace.

Insisting on biking home in the dark would sound petty. And while she considered herself independent, that didn’t give her the right to be rude. Inside the extended-cab truck, she reached into the backseat to stroke Joey’s chocolate-brown curls and savor the feeling of peace that stole over her as the child tipped his face into the chilly night breeze drifting through the open windows.