Page 29 of Before the Night Falls
Olivia hadn’t beenable to sleep for hours. After tossing and turning until the digital clock on her nightstand showed 1:47 a.m., she finally gave up.
Maybe a cup of herbal tea would help. She slid from beneath the covers and pulled on her robe, cinching it around her waist. As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed a thin line of light beneath Tyson’s office door.
She wasn’t the only one battling insomnia tonight.
She hesitated, then knocked softly.
“Come in,” he called, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.
She pushed open the door and found Tyson surrounded by blueprints spread across his desk, a calculator beside him, and spreadsheets on his computer screen.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, but they still brightened when he saw her.
“Can’t sleep?” He straightened in his chair.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” She moved closer, examining the detailed drawings. “What are these?”
He hesitated, as if deciding how much to share. “Plans for a project I’ve been working on.”
The blueprints showed a beautiful modern building with unique architectural elements she couldn’t name. There were classrooms, a community gathering space, a library, and what looked like a cultural center.
“A school?” she asked, studying the papers more closely.
Tyson nodded before pushing his hands through his hair. “Yes, and unfortunately, the contractor called today. Material costs have gone up again.”
Olivia’s eyes widened as she took in the scope of the project. “This looks significant. Personal project?”
His eyes took on a faraway look. “I’m trying to get a school built in an impoverished area about an hour from here. My grandmother used to say that education was the only gift no one could take away.” He touched the blueprint gently. “She made me promise, Olivia. On her deathbed.”
“And you always keep your promises. I had no idea you were involved in something like this.” Olivia settled into a chair across from him. “Where exactly is this school going to be built?”
“On the Cherokee reservation in western North Carolina,” he said. “My grandmother was full-blooded Cherokee, so I’m a quarter Cherokee myself.”
This was a side of Tyson she hadn’t expected. “I had no idea.”
“It’s not something I publicize. Not because I’m not proud of my heritage, but because I don’t want it to seem like I’m using it as a marketing angle for my fitness brand.”
So he was humble also. She liked that.
“Tell me about your grandmother,” Olivia said, sincerely interested. “She sounds like an amazing woman.”
A genuine smile warmed Tyson’s face. “She was. Anna Stone—though she always kept her Cherokee name, Ama Agiyahi, which means ‘Water Woman.’ She lived on the reservation until she was eighteen, then she left to get her teaching degree. She was the first in her family to go to college.”
“That couldn’t have been easy back then.”
“It wasn’t. She faced discrimination at every turn, but she never gave up.” Pride filled his voice. “She taught on the reservation for forty years. Every summer when school was out, my mom would send me to stay with her.”
“So that’s where you learned about your heritage?”
He nodded. “The summers I spent with her were the best of my life. She taught me everything—the language, the traditions, the stories. But what she talked about most was her dream.”
“The school,” Olivia said softly.
“The community school there is over fifty years old. It has a leaky roof, inadequate heating, outdated everything. She watched generation after generation of kids struggle because they didn’t have the resources other schools had.” Tyson tapped the blueprint. “She used to say, ‘One day, our children will have a school worthy of their potential.’”
“And you’re making that happen.”
“I’m trying.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “We’re so close, but with these new cost increases . . . I only have another eight days until I need to have all the paperwork in place and the funding lined up.”
