"It's from Bree," Joanna finished for him. "A scholarship from Bree."

"Come on," Agnes Pratt interrupted, tapping Joanna on the shoulder. "It's time to take our seats."

As soon as Joanna sat down, she was able to see Jenny and Butch sitting in the front row of the grandstand. They weren't difficult to pick out since Jenny was standing on her feet, waving frantically. Joanna waved back at them-a tiny, discreet wave-letting them know she had seen them, too.

A few minutes later, the crowd was asked to stand for the playing of "The Star-Spangled Banner." As the organist from Bible Baptist Church struck up the first notes of the national anthem, Joanna glanced at David O'Brien's face. He was sitting at attention with tears glistening on both haggard cheeks while his lips mouthed the familiar words:

"Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light ..."

As the music swelled and washed over the crowd, Joanna felt tears in her own eyes as well-tears in her eyes and goose-flesh on her arms and legs. That always happened to her when she heard those wonderfully stirring notes of music. On this occasion, though, it was different somehow. It was more than just the music. It was David O'Brien, too.

Here was a man who had lost everything that mattered to him-lost it not once, but twice. And yet he had somehow found the courage to go on. He had figured out a way to turn his personal tragedy and culpability into something else-into something good for other people, for a townful of children who otherwise would have been disappointed by missing the magic of a Fourth of July fireworks celebration. Not only that, David O'Brien was also finding a way to break free of a life-long history of prejudice in order to reach out to someone else.

Watching him sing, Joanna had no doubt that David O'Brien's unexpected generosity in the face of his own loss would help a brokenhearted boy from Douglas fulfill his dream of becoming a doctor.

Halfway through the song, Joanna reached into her pocket and let her fingers close tightly around the sturdy little velvet-covered box. Somehow, holding on to it helped her hold her own tears in check. For a while anyway. But by the time they reached "land of the free and the home of the brave" Joanna Brady just gave up and let herself cry.

Because she needed to. And because, for a change, crying felt good.