Free The Way Home by Irene Hannon Page B

up.”
    â€œGreat.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “I hate to run, but my daughter is in a school play tonight, and I’ll just be able to make it if I leave now. Would you mind if I took off while you finish up?”
    â€œNot at all,” Amy assured him. “Thank you for your help.”
    â€œThank you, ” he replied, shaking her hand. “You can’t imagine how much this kind of publicity will mean to Saint Vincent’s.”
    â€œI hope so. You do good work here, and you deserve all the support you can get.”
    â€œThanks.” He shook hands with Steve, as well. “Feel free to spend as much time as you like here. Cal just asked that you try to keep him in the background as much as possible when you film.”
    â€œNo problem,” Steve assured him, hoisting his Minicam into position.
    â€œI’ll wait over there,” Amy said, nodding toward the corner where a youngster sat alone on a folding chair, watching them curiously. “Good night, Michael.”
    â€œGood night.”
    As Steve scoped out the gym for angles, Amy wandered over to the little boy of about seven, who was sitting on his hands, his legs wrapped around the legs of the chair. She sat beside him and smiled.
    â€œHi. My name’s Amy. What’s yours?”
    â€œMark.” He spoke softly and hung his head.
    â€œWell, it’s nice to meet you, Mark.” She nodded toward the court. “Do you play basketball?”
    He shook his head. “I’m too little.”
    â€œBut not for long. Pretty soon you’ll be just as big as those guys out there.”
    He looked up at her shyly. “I hope I can play as good as my brother. He’s on the team. Mr. Richards says I have po-po-potential.”
    He struggled with the complicated word, and Amy smiled. “Then I’m sure you do.”
    â€œMr. Richards lets me watch. He says I can learn a lot by watching. And sometimes, when the practice is over, he shows me how to hold the ball and how to throw.”
    â€œSounds like he’s very nice.”
    Mark nodded vigorously. “I like to talk to him. He listens real good.” Mark glanced toward Steve. “What’s he doing?”
    â€œHe’s shooting some video for a story we’re going to do on the news about Saint Vincent’s.”
    â€œWow! You mean we’re going to be on TV?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œBecause Saint Vincent’s is a good place, and we want to let other people know about it.”
    â€œI like it here,” Mark affirmed. “Sometimes it’s not real nice at home, when my mom is sick, so Troy—that’s my brother—and I come here and do stuff.”
    â€œThat should be a wrap, Amy. You want anything else?”
    She looked up at Steve. “I think we’re done. Thanks, Steve.”
    â€œNo problem. Want me to walk you to your car?”
    â€œSure.” Saint Vincent’s wasn’t in the safest neighborhood, and Amy didn’t take unnecessary chances.
    â€œLet me just check in and see where I need to go next.”
    â€œDo you want to use my phone?” She reached for her purse, but he shook his head.
    â€œMine’s in the bag. I’ll stow this stuff, then call. Just give me a couple of minutes.”
    Amy turned back to Mark. “So you like coming to Saint Vincent’s?”
    He nodded emphatically. “It’s neat. After school they give us cookies and milk. And the grown-ups here don’t yell or throw things or anything. They talk nice to us and listen to what we say, like we’re important. It makes me feel good to come here.”
    Amy leaned closer and laid her hand on his. “You know something, Mark? You are important. Every person is different, and every single one is important in his own way. There’s nobody else in the whole world just like you, and nobody could ever take your place. You remember