Gripp sat on the plane back to Eblax and held in his tears the entire way. He dreamed of April as he slept, seeing her in that flowing red dress holding a baby. He would kiss both their foreheads and, finally, be happy.
THIRTY-ONE
APRIL
HE’S GONE.
The wound in her chest ached fiercely. Tears threatened her eyes, but April refused to let them fall. She didn’t want to fall apart. She’d expected to be hurt, but she hadn’t been prepared for the agony that flooded through her with him out of her life.
The anxiety racing through her veins turned into a dull, sluggish depression that dragged her down and refused to let her go.
She tried to cheer herself up by listening to her favorite songs and eating ice cream, but nothing eased the hurt in her chest. Her only escape was to focus completely on her work from now on. She would leave no room in her mind or her heart for anything else.
The next day, she entered the film office headquarters feeling shaky but determined. She had waited her whole life for this. April couldn’t wait to develop her story with trained professionals and see her work presented for all the world to see.
Her family would finally understand that she was talented and skilled, not just passionate. There was great value to what she did, and now that April had recognition for it, no one could argue that she had unique insight as well as the guts to get every detail of the story.
It wasn’t just about her family, not anymore. April had a fierce passion for hunting down and revealing the truth, and she knew the only way to change the horrible things she’d seen was to show it to the rest of the world.
Her first day on the film set was a whirlwind of meeting people and learning about the different teams that were involved in making a documentary. April was daunted by how complex it was and appreciative of the amount of support she’d received to develop the documentary.
Over the next few months, April worked closely with all the teams, from pre-production, right up to the final polishing. The longer the technical process went on, the more April realized she preferred to be out covering the story rather than working on the final product.
During the process, legal proceedings were carried out. The uranium mines were investigated, and the use of children was condemned by other countries. The names of all the American bigwigs who had a hand in the pie came out, and some went to prison. Others disappeared, some by choice and others not.
Every day that passed should have made April glow with triumph. Her family finally congratulated her … even her father had good things to say. Her work was complimented by top reporters and producers. She even gained a following on social media, praised by her fans for her courage in the pursuit of truth.
But the passing time did not fill April with satisfaction or confidence. Instead, she felt as if she were dying inside. The crack that had fractured her heart when Gripp left without her had not healed or faded … it had gotten deeper, sharper, and more jagged.
The ache of missing him was like a dark chasm waiting at her feet. In her quiet moments, April would find herself slipping into it. Memories would come from out of nowhere, and it was as if she could feel the waves lulling the little dinghy as she shared a passionate embrace with Gripp while they drifted to the safety of the military ship.
One day, not long after the final release of the documentary, April was called into a meeting with the executives. She had gotten good at hiding her misery and went into the interview with a bright smile on her face.
“Hello,” she said brightly as she entered the conference room. “I hope I’m on time.”
“Of course you are, dear,” gushed Cynthia Drent, the head executive. “Please, sit. We have a new proposal for you.”
April nodded hello to Nathan White and Greg Langdon, the other two partners of the production company. She’d gotten to know them well over the course of making the documentary.
“Let me first congratulate you on your success,” Cynthia said, smiling. “The adaptation into film has been a tremendous undertaking, and you have kept it true to form while also being one of the most entertaining news stories ever produced.”
“Thank you,” April said, feeling a surge of pride. She was very pleased with what she had accomplished.
“Now that the current project has come to an end, we’d like to know your thoughts on what you’d like to cover next,” Cynthia said.
April felt her mind go blank. She couldn’t believe it, but she hadn’t given a single thought to her next story.
“I’ll have to think about it,” April said. “I’ve been so involved in the documentary, I hadn’t really decided where I want to go next. I would like to get out of the city for a while.”
“Here’s the thing, April,” Nathan said. “We are so impressed by what you’ve done, we’d like to give you free rein on your next project.”
“We want to have you with us exclusively,” Greg chimed in. “You can have your home base anywhere in the world you like … we want you out on location as much as possible. The footage you shot for this documentary is utterly gripping. We want more.”
“What … did you say?” April asked softly.
“We want more!” Cynthia said, laughing. “No one captures the drama like you do. The film you shot was visceral. It had an impact on everyone who saw it. Not only that, your evidence put the bad guys in jail and improved conditions for the people at Eblax. We are all in agreement that it’s better to let you choose your own project. I think that will add to the passion you bring to the material.”
“But wait, what did you say before that?” April asked, struggling.