Chapter 71 - The Children's Meeting
The most important meeting Noah attended in Briar Glen happened without lawyers.
A teacher invited him to a middle-school civics class.
He almost refused.
Then Daniel said:
“Go.”
“Why?”
“Children ask better questions.”
That turned out to be true.
A twelve-year-old girl asked:
“Are you rich because your company polluted us?”
Noah stared.
The teacher looked horrified.
Noah said:
“Some of the wealth in my trust came from Carter Global during the years Carter Materials operated here.”
“So yes?”
“Partly, maybe.”
The room became quiet.
Another student:
“Then why don't you give all your money back?”
Noah smiled faintly.
“Good question.”
He thought.
“Because figuring out what is owed isn't the same as emptying one person's bank account.”
“Why?”
“Because Carter Global belongs economically to lots of people.”
“Workers?”
“Shareholders.”
“Retirement funds.”
“The trust.”
“And the company needs money to keep operating and cleaning the site.”
A boy frowned.
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“It can be.”
Noah nodded.
“That's why people outside the company need to check.”
Another student asked:
“Did your grandpa know?”
“We don't know exactly what he understood at every moment.”
“Do you wish he was innocent?”
Noah stopped.
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised the room.
He continued.
“But wishing doesn't change records.”
A girl near the window raised her hand.
“If you found proof he was bad, would you take his picture down?”
Noah thought of Henry's photograph.
The trust.
The Open Door Center.
The letters.
“No.”
Students looked confused.
“Why?”
“Because if I remove every person from history when I find something I don't like, I don't learn history.”
A pause.
“I just decorate it.”
The teacher smiled.
The girl nodded slowly.
Then:
“Would you still love him?”
Noah looked down.
Henry had died before Noah formed memories of him.
Love came through stories.
Structures.
Daniel's grief.
Maybe admiration was the better word.
“I can be grateful for something he did and angry about something else.”
The boy in front frowned.
“Adults always say stuff like that when they don't want to pick.”
Noah laughed.
“Fair.”
The class laughed too.
Then an eleven-year-old named Mason asked:
“Does your dad feel bad?”
Noah looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Every day?”
“Probably.”
“Does that help?”
Noah thought of Daniel standing on Maple Street.
“No.”
Mason frowned.
“Then why feel bad?”
Noah smiled sadly.
“Feeling bad isn't the goal.”
“What is?”
“Doing better after you know better.”
Mason nodded.
That answer seemed acceptable.
After class, the teacher handed Noah a stack of anonymous questions.
One stayed with him.
If a company says sorry but keeps making money, how do you know sorry is real?
He carried the card back to Connecticut.
May you like
Placed it on his desk beside the old crayon drawing from the Open Door Center.
Some paper deserved to be kept.
