away, to reconnect with themselves, pray—even if just for a moment.”
I step inside. It’s slightly claustrophobic, but could maybe be a refuge in the context Casey presents. There are no windows here. The walls have been painted a sky blue to compensate and there are plants at all corners of the room. A table sits neatly in its center. I don’t feel much like sitting, and neither does Casey. I lean against the wall while she smooths her hand over her head, taming flyaways that aren’t there.
“Why were you at Arthur’s?” she asks.
“Why was your brother?” I ask back. She clenches her jaw. “And I wasn’t at Arthur’s, I was keeping an eye out. When Lev offered me the profile, he said I could do it my way, on my terms. That’s what I was doing.” I study her. “What’s Daniel’s problem with The Unity Project? Between your dad and you, is he feeling left out?”
“My brother was there for my father—or at least that’s what he’d tell you.”
I stare at her.
“I thought your dad was a huge proponent of The Project’s work.”
I can see her thinking, her eyes moving back and forth, tracking nothing, lost. This is so far out of bounds of normal Project business, clearly so personal she doesn’t know how to speak about it. She finally sits in the chair at the table, and I can’t remember ever seeing her so small.
“Have you ever…” She trails off. “You saw my speech at the sermon, didn’t you?”
“I was escorted out after that.”
“I give the same speech every time,” she tells me. “Having everything, wanting for nothing, feeling empty, hoping for death.” Her eyes slowly meet mine. “And that’s not even the half of it. If I took you through what I’d been through before Lev found me, you would…” She slowly shakes her head. “I…”
“Tell me.”
“You shouldn’t ask me that. You wouldn’t, if you knew what you were asking.” She closes her eyes and keeps them closed. A tear slips past her and she brushes it away hastily, opening her eyes. “I’ll just tell you this: my father is a sick man. And the things I know about him would put him in the ground.”
Her tone offers no space for further questions, and there’s an eerie distance in it that makes my stomach turn. “If he’s done something that bad, maybe you should.”
“He’s more useful this way.”
I pause. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“What do you think I’m saying?”
“He’s funding Project initiatives in exchange for your silence?”
“He bought this building. And the other two.” She leans forward. “It would have taken years for us to get the money we needed to make The Unity Centers happen. Do you know how many hungry mouths we feed in a single day? Beds are ninety percent claimed tonight. It’s going to be so cold out. It’s inhumane to leave people on the streets, in the cold. Do you know how many connections we make that can mean the difference between life and death for so many?”
“The end justifies the means, is that it?”
“My father might not accept atonement for his sins,” Casey says, “but that doesn’t mean he can’t still pay for them. If this is the result, I’m fine with that.”
“And Lev is too?”
“It’s my business. He leaves it to me. My father accepts this arrangement because he has no other choice, but every so often, my brother interferes. That’s what Daniel was doing today. He was hopeful he’d walk into some kind of uprising but nobody else showed up, did they, Lo?”
I shift, uncomfortable. “Not that I saw.”
“What do you think that means?”
She smiles faintly, briefly—sadly—and then stares down at her hands. Casey has always been a mystery to me, less a person than a specific function of whatever the moment required of her. The face of The Unity Project. An obstacle between me and Bea. This makes her feel real and I’m not sure I like it.
“If Arthur had held that meeting six months ago, I would’ve been at it,” I tell her. “Because of Bea and because of you.”
She regards me thoughtfully.
“I think anything I say to you about that would feel hollow.”
“I’ll take anything, Casey.”
“Do you remember the last time we saw each other?”
I know she means before the sermon.
And there’s no way I could forget.
The Project was holding a fundraiser at the Morel Community Center. I can’t even remember what for. I didn’t know if Bea would be there, but I knew