Power and Passion (26 page)

Joan laughed, but deep down she was
uncomfortable with all this praise. She had many friends and many
colleagues in the business world, and the majority of them were
truly good people. If they wanted to help, it wasn't because of her
but for the cause she was asking them to support.

"I am fortunate," she replied, feeling as
humble as her voice sounded. "I know a lot of good people."

"I'll say," said Mina. "I'll bet you can't
wait to tell Sara you surpassed the target."

"Oh, no," Joan was quick to reply, sitting
forward and leaning her arms on the desk between her and Mina. "No,
Sara cannot know about that."

Mina was back to looking confused. "Why on
earth not? This is amazing. You've paid for practically half of the
gala's expenses all by yourself. Why—"

Joan raised a hand to stop her. "I will tell
her I raised the money. That
we
raised the money," she
corrected, smiling at her assistant. Mina had done the bulk of the
work, and Joan had to give her credit for it. "But please don't
mention how easy it was or how many people donated. I don't want
her or Maryam to feel…intimidated."

Mina shook her head. "Oh, I don't think they
would feel anything but thankful toward you, Joan." When her boss
did not reply and just sat there with a stern look on her face, she
relented. "All right, I won't tell either of them. But I don't
understand why you won't let them know how much you've done."

Joan thought for a moment, sitting back in
her chair and folding her hands in her lap. She glanced over at her
wall full of plaques and certificates, all the awards she had won
over so many years within the nonprofit world. However, it wasn't
the awards that gave her the greatest pleasure. It was assisting
those who needed help, making a positive difference, an impact.
That brought her the deepest happiness. And she had definitely
gotten back more than she had imagined she would.

Joan had come very far, that was true, since
she had first moved to Dubai; she had set many goals for herself
and her organization and had far surpassed every one of them. She
had never dreamed it would be so big or influential. That was a
good feeling, the security of all that support and warmth around
her, but at the same time it made her a bit uneasy.

With great power comes great
responsibility
, she thought, as the writer Voltaire once said.
So what was her responsibility at a time like this?

"Mina, in the time that I've been working on
the gala project, I've come to like these two a lot," she said,
turning her attention back to her assistant. "Sara and Maryam. They
are good, compassionate, and kind. They're strong women who care
about their fellow human beings enough to give up time with their
families and even their own money to follow a dream—one that will
help people who do not have the same opportunities you and I have.
In all honesty I could have planned and managed the whole gala, but
it would not have been as good and effective in achieving its
goals. I've always believed collaborative efforts reap the best
rewards. We all have our strengths no matter how small or different
they are, and pulling together for a common objective is the key to
success."

Mina smiled. It was not surprising that
people held Joan in high esteem. She was not just competent and
kind but wise too. "Sara told me they appreciate and value your
guidance."

"Well, perhaps, but it's been so important
to let Sara find her own way," Joan went on, "and to figure things
out on her own. And Maryam too. I hope I have given them some of
the help they need and steered them in the right direction when
necessary. But for me to go in and put my name all over this
project, to act like it was mine from the start and the whole thing
would fall apart without me—well, that would be cruel at best,
don't you think?"

Mina nodded. "When you put it that way, yes,
I do agree. You're a powerful woman. You can and do get things
done. But I'm sure you got to that point because somewhere, way
back when, someone gave you opportunities, provided some
assistance, and let you test the waters and find your footing on
your own."

Joan snapped her fingers and smiled. "Yes,
that is exactly right. Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day,
right?"

"Teach him to fish, and he will eat for a
lifetime," Mina replied, finishing the old maxim she and Joan often
shared with one another. In the nonprofit world, Mina knew, it was
so easy simply to do things for others—to give them money, to
provide them with what they need. But if one could instead teach
people how to do things for themselves, well, that was always the
best gift of all.

On the desk Joan's cell phone rang, the
shrill electronic sound breaking the silence of their thoughts. She
reached over and picked it up.

"Oh, it's Sara," she said, looking at the
caller ID. "Let me take this. We'll talk more about the donations
later."

T
hank you and good luck." Sara wasn't sure
how many times she'd said the same phrase already that day, but it
had to be in the thousands. Still, her smile was as bright as it
had been for the first entrant she had helped register for the
Terry Fox Run, an annual event in Dubai for which she always
volunteered. By her side, Isabella handed out the numbers the
participants would pin to their shirts.

"Quite a turnout this year, huh?" Isabella
asked as she handed over another number. "I mean it's always huge,
but I can't remember a year when it was ever like this."

As she handed a participant a pen to sign
her registration sheet, Sara looked out over the crowd that had
begun to fill up the park—people of all ages and ethnicities and
even physical abilities. Some were runners all decked out in Lycra
and the latest high-tech trainers; some were in wheelchairs,
wearing leather gloves so they could push their wheels faster.
There were parents pushing strollers, while some walked with their
children, aiming to complete as much as they could. There were
older folks in track suits set to walk the three-kilometer leg of
the race, while others wore roller blades or held skateboards that
would take them through the entire eight-kilometer route. That was
one thing Sara loved about this annual event: there really was no
limit on who could enter or on their means of conveyance. Whether
they were on feet or wheels, everyone was welcome there.

"Yes, I think you're right," she replied,
turning to Isabella. "There does seem to be more people than ever
today. Such a great sight to see."

"I know of another great sight," a voice
interrupted, and Sara turned quickly back to her table.

"Oh," she said, a flush blooming on her
cheeks. "Hi, Adam. Good to see you."

Across the table, he nodded. "Yes, good to
see you, too, Sara."

They looked at each other for a moment,
letting their gazes linger, lost in their own thoughts. Sara was
remembering their last date—a simple dinner-and-a-movie night, but
she had enjoyed it so much. Every time she saw Adam, she found
herself feeling more comfortable about being with him, and she
could tell by the look on his face that he felt the same way.

"So are we running today, or are we just
going to stand around?"

Adam stepped back, the trance between him
and Sara broken. Behind him stood Carlos, the Grand Creek's
guestservices manager, with a joking grin on his face. Beside him
was his girlfriend, and farther back were Zhang-Jing and Zhanar
from the hotel's front desk. Each of them waved and smiled at
Sara.

"Very funny," Adam said as he stepped aside
to let them all come to the table. Sara handed out the registration
forms then tried to find enough pens to go around for the
group.

"I'm glad you all came out today," she said
brightly. "Adam told me you'd all be running as a team."

"Yes, he's been making us practice every
day," ZhangJing said, handing her filled-out paper back to Sara. "I
think I've run more in the last few months than I have in my entire
life."

"Yes, and he's always yelling at us on our
runs. 'Faster! Faster! Is that running or walking? I can't tell!'"
Carlos shook his head. "Sara, you wouldn't believe how mean he is
to us." "Oh, you like it," Adam said as he also gave Sara his
completed form. He grinned at her. "I'm not as bad as all
that."

When they were all registered, they moved on
to Isabella to get their numbers. Adam lingered behind the
others.

"It really is good to see you, Sara," he
said, his voice as low as he could keep it in the noise of the
crowd around them. "Are you going to be around afterward? After the
run is done, I mean."

Sara nodded. "Once I'm done with
registrations here, I'll help clean up then I'm free." She paused
for a moment, just enjoying looking at his warm smile. "I could
wait for you at the finish line. You know, to cheer you on."

Adam's smile doubled in brightness and size.
"Really?

You would do that?"

Sara reached out and helped him pin his
number tag onto his shirt. "It would make me very happy to," she
said then stood back to make sure his number was on straight. When
she saw it was, she nodded at him. "Good luck and I'll see you
there."

With that Adam and his running group were
off to find the starting line. Sara watched them until they
disappeared in the crowd. When she turned back to her duties at the
table, she found Isabella glancing at her with an amused smile.

"What?" Sara asked, feeling that warm blush
on her face again. "What is it?"

Isabella kept handing out numbers to the new
participants, that grin still on her face. "Just hurry up and get
those registrations done. You don't want to be late getting down to
the finish line."

* * *

It turned out Sara had been right—all told,
the registrations had exceeded the previous year's by several
hundred. By the time she had finished cleaning up her area and
packing away all the spare pens and leftover number tags, the final
tally had come in, and both she and Isabella had been delighted,
but not surprised, that the turnout had been so high.

"That's because they have good marketing,"
Isabella said as they closed up the last of the storage boxes. "I
mean who doesn't know about the Terry Fox Run? Not just in Dubai,
either, but around the world. It's in how many countries now,
something like thirty?" Isabella paused for a moment as she and
Sara folded up the banner that had hung from one of the tables.
"Hey, did you volunteer for the runs in Canada too? That's where
Terry Fox was from, right?"

Sara nodded. "Yes, I did, and, yes, he was.
He was eighteen, an undergraduate, when he was diagnosed with bone
cancer and had his right leg amputated. Seeing how other cancer
patients suffered, particularly children, he decided to run across
Canada to raise money for cancer research."

Isabella, who had been trying to stuff the
banner into an already full box, stopped and looked at Sara. "If
only we all had that sort of determination," she said. "That
compassion for our fellow man. You know?"

Sara nodded, feeling a little choked up as
she always did when she thought about Terry Fox and the many, many
people he still inspired. He hadn't even gotten to finish his
journey; 143 days and more than three thousand miles into his run,
his cancer spread to his lungs, and he passed soon after. "Yes, I
know," she said. That sort of compassion and drive, as Isabella
noted, was something Sara strived for every day of her life.

"Ah, well, at least we can carry on his good
work," Isabella said, finally having gotten the banner inside the
box and sealed it up. She stood and looked at Sara. "So I'll see
you later maybe?"

Sara hesitated in answering, and then both
she and Isabella laughed.

"Yeah, maybe not," Isabella said, realizing
that Sara would most likely—hopefully—be spending some time with
Adam after the race.

"Well, how about I'll call you tonight?"
Sara offered as she began to walk away. The run still had a while
to go, but she wanted to make sure she was right there whenever
Adam happened to cross the line.

"Sounds good," Isabella replied, and the two
exchanged waves as Sara made her way out into the mob of
supporters. There were more of them this year, too, she was sure of
it, and that gave her a very warm feeling inside. That all these
people—young and old, from all walks of life, expats and
Emiratis—had come out to participate or support their loved ones,
their friends, their colleagues, whomever they were cheering on…it
was beautiful, Sara thought. A true representation of what humanity
was all about.

Staying at the edge of the crowd, she made
her way down to the finish line rather quickly and found herself a
spot where Adam was sure to see her. She felt a bit awkward, even a
little foolish, about putting herself out there so blatantly, but
then she thought about how big his smile would be when he saw her
there. He would be tired from running, but hopefully knowing she
was there would bring him the last burst of energy he needed to
push himself to the end.