Read Online Tarnished Image by Alton L. Gansky - Free Book Online
Authors: Alton L. Gansky
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Relief has been primarily concerned with hunger issues.”
“You’re not saying that another catastrophe is on its way, are you?” Kristen asked.
“You must understand,” Osborn said firmly. “Catastrophes are not unusual, they are the norm. They happen every year. Some years are worse than others, but every year has its share of disasters. I can’t tell you if there will be another one soon or not, but there will be others.”
“But how can we deal with multiple disasters like this?” David asked. “We have many resources, more than some countries, but the well is not bottomless. How do we help everyone?”
“You don’t,” Osborn said. “You have to make choices. Some you will save; others you will be forced to lose.”
The comment shocked David. “That’s not what I want to hear, Osborn.”
“Nor is it what I want to say. It is, however, a fact of life. Choices must be made, and as far as Barringston Relief is concerned, you will have to make them.”
Cueva del Toro, Cuba
Seven-year-old Angelina Costa Ruiz strolled along the white sands of the Peninsula de Guanahalabibes near the town of Cueva del Toro. The warm sand stuck to her bare feet, and a stiff breeze ruffled her dark brown hair. She loved the shore, with the cry of gulls, the smell of salt, and the rolling waves. Twice a year her father would take a weekend off from the Center for Agricultural Engineering in Havana, where he worked as a senior research scientist, and drive to his sister’s house. They would make more such trips, but gas for the family’s old Ford was difficult to come by.
Papa worked hard and spent many hours at things that Angelina did not understand, but she did understand that a weekend at the beach with her cousins was more fun than school. Turning, she looked back at her father who lay upon a towel in the sand, a straw hat covering his face, his dark skin glistening in the sun. He looked so alone, and Angelina wished for him a new wife and for herself a new mother.
It had been six months since Mama died. Cancer, Papa explained. But it had been so sudden, so fast. Now it was just she, Papa, and her older sister, Juanita. Juanita was engaged to be married in October, and soon the house would grow by one when Juanita’s new husband moved into their home on the outskirts of the city. Roberto, Juanita’s fiancé, was a kind man and always had a joke for Angelina. He was tall and skinny with big eyes that flashed when he laughed. He was also a teacher like her mother had been and helped Angelina with her homework when Papa was working late—something he did almost every night.
“The future of Cuba is in biotechnology,” Papa always said. He was proud of the work he did, and Angelina was proud to have such a smart and respected father.
The shrill sound of children at play caused Angelina to redirect her attention to her cousins as they frolicked in the ocean, splashing each other and diving under the small rollers that lumbered toward shore. Five cousins. Angelina’s family was small compared to her aunt’s. It was fun being around so many children, like being at recess in school. Still, Angelina preferred her own company. Papa said that her mother had been the same way: quiet and thoughtful.
She missed her mother so much. Tiny tears began to float on her eyes. Papa did the best he could. When he was home, he even tried to braid her hair like Mama had done. Papa was a smart man, a good scientist, but he knew nothing about braiding hair. More than once, Juanita had had to undo what Papa had done. They often laughed about it together, but neither would say anything to Papa. He was the best father any child could have, even if he was gone a lot and couldn’t braid hair.
Yet as good a father as Papa was, a little girl needed a mother. Someone to tuck her in at night and tell her stories and teach her about cooking and about growing into a woman. Perhaps she should pray for a new mother. Papa didn’t believe in
“You’re not saying that another catastrophe is on its way, are you?” Kristen asked.
“You must understand,” Osborn said firmly. “Catastrophes are not unusual, they are the norm. They happen every year. Some years are worse than others, but every year has its share of disasters. I can’t tell you if there will be another one soon or not, but there will be others.”
“But how can we deal with multiple disasters like this?” David asked. “We have many resources, more than some countries, but the well is not bottomless. How do we help everyone?”
“You don’t,” Osborn said. “You have to make choices. Some you will save; others you will be forced to lose.”
The comment shocked David. “That’s not what I want to hear, Osborn.”
“Nor is it what I want to say. It is, however, a fact of life. Choices must be made, and as far as Barringston Relief is concerned, you will have to make them.”
Cueva del Toro, Cuba
Seven-year-old Angelina Costa Ruiz strolled along the white sands of the Peninsula de Guanahalabibes near the town of Cueva del Toro. The warm sand stuck to her bare feet, and a stiff breeze ruffled her dark brown hair. She loved the shore, with the cry of gulls, the smell of salt, and the rolling waves. Twice a year her father would take a weekend off from the Center for Agricultural Engineering in Havana, where he worked as a senior research scientist, and drive to his sister’s house. They would make more such trips, but gas for the family’s old Ford was difficult to come by.
Papa worked hard and spent many hours at things that Angelina did not understand, but she did understand that a weekend at the beach with her cousins was more fun than school. Turning, she looked back at her father who lay upon a towel in the sand, a straw hat covering his face, his dark skin glistening in the sun. He looked so alone, and Angelina wished for him a new wife and for herself a new mother.
It had been six months since Mama died. Cancer, Papa explained. But it had been so sudden, so fast. Now it was just she, Papa, and her older sister, Juanita. Juanita was engaged to be married in October, and soon the house would grow by one when Juanita’s new husband moved into their home on the outskirts of the city. Roberto, Juanita’s fiancé, was a kind man and always had a joke for Angelina. He was tall and skinny with big eyes that flashed when he laughed. He was also a teacher like her mother had been and helped Angelina with her homework when Papa was working late—something he did almost every night.
“The future of Cuba is in biotechnology,” Papa always said. He was proud of the work he did, and Angelina was proud to have such a smart and respected father.
The shrill sound of children at play caused Angelina to redirect her attention to her cousins as they frolicked in the ocean, splashing each other and diving under the small rollers that lumbered toward shore. Five cousins. Angelina’s family was small compared to her aunt’s. It was fun being around so many children, like being at recess in school. Still, Angelina preferred her own company. Papa said that her mother had been the same way: quiet and thoughtful.
She missed her mother so much. Tiny tears began to float on her eyes. Papa did the best he could. When he was home, he even tried to braid her hair like Mama had done. Papa was a smart man, a good scientist, but he knew nothing about braiding hair. More than once, Juanita had had to undo what Papa had done. They often laughed about it together, but neither would say anything to Papa. He was the best father any child could have, even if he was gone a lot and couldn’t braid hair.
Yet as good a father as Papa was, a little girl needed a mother. Someone to tuck her in at night and tell her stories and teach her about cooking and about growing into a woman. Perhaps she should pray for a new mother. Papa didn’t believe in
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