5. Filling the Gap #5
Emma-Lou’s voice quivered with uncertainty, “Ethical?”
Suwarna ran her finger along the bottom edge of the frame and then scrubbed away the dust in a rustled wrestle between thumb and pointer. She hedged for more time, “Ermmmm.”
Ronald crossed his arms, intrigued, “Traceable?”
Suwarna turned and glanced around the room, taking the time to look each of them in the eye, “Emma-Lou’s parents have run WWJD with frequent donations from the Ferraris for years.”
Emma-Lou’s shoulders slumped, “Until they disappeared on a cruise through the Bermuda Triangle.”
Carrington crossed their arms and shrugged, “Circumstantial. They booked it themselves after the Ferraris suggested they could use a vacation. Could happen to anyone! There’s no evidence to point a finger at Rino and his family.”
“But is there a reason to be suspicious?” Emma-Lou asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
Suwarna crossed the room and grabbed Emma-Lou by the shoulders, “Do you enjoy sunshine? Do you appreciate being alive? Do you think WWJD has value in bringing people across the Land O’Lakes region to know God?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Emma-Lou answered quietly.
“Suspicion breeds contempt,” Suwarna warned, “and familiarity breeds fondness. I suggest we all get comfortable with the idea of being fond of the Ferraris.”
Rebekkah crossed her arms, biting her lip, “You want us to set our scruples aside for the greater good?”
Ronald leaned back, giving it some thought, “For the sake of argument, if we give this moral compass a spin–we don’t know where the money is coming from. It could all be on the up and up. The radio station is back in business with a great, new CEO…”
Carrington jumped in, “And doesn’t have to do those ridiculous radio-thons.”
Emma-Lou straightened up, took a deep breath and looked at the trio, “Rebekkah, Ronald, and Japheth, you three get your radio show, if you get a lawyer’s approval.”
Ronald blinked, “You’re gonna bring the law into this now?”
Ignoring him, Emma-Lou continued, “And you have the added motivation of building an audience and ad revenue quickly or… or…”
Rebekkah, her voice low and pensive, whispered, “We disappear. Yup, I’m still rolling that one around.”
Japheth, a slight grin creeping onto his face, muttered, “And I get a weekly date with Rino Ferrari. A meeting. We can just call it a meeting.”
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed back into the room. Rino appeared, a smirk on his lips, “It’s cute you all think it’s up for discussion. Just to be clear, it’s not. Le Chateau, let’s go Cucciolo.”
“Did he just call me puppy? Like a cute puppy? In Italian? A cute, Italian puppy? Or was that, like, for all of us?” Japheth’s eyes widened, “I’m gonna go and um… find out.”
The platform heels of Japheth’s triple buckled Aldo boots click-clacked the floor as he scampered after Rino. As the door swung shut, Ronald turned to the group, his voice full of disbelief, “Did we just get a gangsta Godfather?”
Rebekkah’s eyes lit up with sudden realization, “And our radio show is a go?”
Emma-Lou, still processing, nodded slowly, “And WWJD will be saved?”
Suwarna picked up a watering can to give the desk fern a drink, “What could go wrong?”
Before anyone could reply, the voice of the radio DJ blared over the office speakers, interrupting their thoughts and forcing them to focus elsewhere, “You’re listening to WWJD in Greater Napanee.
We’re just thirty-five hours and forty-seven thousand and thirty-two dollars away from hitting our crucial goal of fifty thousand to stay on the air. ”
Ronald raised an eyebrow, about to make a sarcastic comment, when the DJ’s voice continued with surprising news, “Tape on your toupées listeners, my producer is holding up a sign on the studio glass. The radio-thon is… over?! It’s over!
Oh, thank Jesus. An anonymous donor just filled our gap! Well hallelujah!”
Emma-Lou’s eyes widened as the DJ’s announcement sank in.
“An anonymous donor?” Rebekkah whispered, incredulity in her voice.
Carrington’s gaze narrowed knowingly, “I think we all know who that anonymous donor is.”
Ronald let out a low whistle, “Guess Rino didn’t waste any time, did he?”
Rebekkah looked between them, a sense of dread creeping into her voice, “Is that a good thing?”
Emma-Lou, her face pale but determined, stood up and exhaled deeply, “It’s not just about good or bad anymore. It’s about survival. WWJD is on the air. We’ve got our shot. Now we just have to take it.”
Rebekkah, always optimistic, smiled faintly, “And we will. We must.”
Ronald crossed his arms, his expression unreadable, “Well, hallelujah, I guess.”
The air in the room seemed to settle, but the weight of what had just transpired, and what it meant for all of them, lingered, thick as thieves. WWJD was saved for now, but at what cost?
And elsewhere, throughout the radio speakers in cars, kitchens, tractors and the hospital waiting rooms of Greater Napanee and the Land O’Lakes region, the monks continued their cadence, singing in Latin about how every sin, properly remixed, could sound a little like grace.