Noa's Arc

Ellen Boneparth

Description

The failure of the war on drugs leads attorney Noa Kahn to new approaches to addiction and locales where they work.
Attorney Rachel Kahn, seeking a new life, takes her middle name, Noa, as her first name. In her mid-thirties, she leaves private practice in New York to work at the Department of Justice in Washington, D.C. on halting the illegal opioid trade.
Working with Tony Palmer, a colleague from the CDC in Atlanta, she helps track drug-dealers in San Francisco and discovers new approaches in Seattle and Vancouver to confronting addiction, leading her to introducing harm reduction practices on Indian reservations where drug abuse is rampant.
Noa's journey takes her from the war on drugs to harm reduction and eventually to drug legalization. Both Noa and Tony deal with family loss from illegal drugs. Their efforts to heal their families, as well as to assist abusers, result in a bond that evolves into love.

Sujets

• Drugs
• Ajinoam Nini
• Drug
• Noa
• War on Drugs
• Romance
• Fiction
• Addition

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 03 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665579209
• Langue: English

Extrait

Noa’s Arc
 
 
 
 
Ellen Boneparth
 
 
 
 

 
 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Ellen Boneparth. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 12/28/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7919-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7920-9 (e)
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 1
F eeling both excited and nervous about her upcoming job interview, Rachel Kahn hopped off the sleek Acela train at Washington’s Union Station. She rolled her small suitcase to the exit and made her way to the taxi stand out front. A fresh, sunny, day in October. Mid-morning was a good time to catch a cab – few commuters, few civil servants. Fifth in line, she was soon on her way to the Department of Justice.
In the cab she felt her heart thumping as she brushed a piece of lint off her suit jacket. She wanted a job at Justice, even though it meant leaving New York after so many years, saying goodbye to her friends from college and law school, and giving up her spacious apartment, more so now that Larry had moved to New Haven.
It was time for something different, time to step away from a high-paying but empty job, a socially acceptable but also unrewarding relationship, a predictable life totally lacking in passion. Being risk adverse had held her back for too long.
Well, first things first. She took a deep breath. She’d see what kind of job offer she got before worrying about all the rest.
Her appointment was with Todd Winston, the Director of Human Resources. On her behalf, Larry had called Winston, his old law school buddy, which got her the meeting with the man at the top. Winston, who had previously worked in several posts at Justice, reputedly knew the character and personnel of most bureaus intimately.
Stopping in a restroom on her way to HR, Rachel pinned up her shoulder-length, blonde-streaked hair in a chignon, aiming for her most professional look. She pulled a rose-colored scarf out of her suitcase, wound it around her neck, and let it hang loosely over her pink silk blouse and gray gabardine suit jacket. Rose lipstick and a light squeeze of musky cologne. She glanced in the mirror, thrust back her shoulders, and reminded herself that, if the interview went poorly, she had other options besides DOJ.

The HR Department took up an entire floor in the building, all rectangular corridors and office doors painted metal gray. The department was larger than expected, but not surprising considering Justice had more than 100,000 employees. She was escorted by a young man to the side of the building looking out over Constitution Avenue, all wood-paneling and green carpeting, where the high-level staff had their offices. They entered a large conference room with a long, polished oak table and brown leather chairs.
Breezing in, Winston, an African-American with graying, close-cropped hair, looked thoroughly Ivy League in a classic blue, button-down shirt, striped tie, and navy pin-striped suit. He held horn-rimmed glasses in one hand, a file in the other.
He nodded at Rachel. “Please have a seat. How was your trip?”
“Fast. The Acela was new to me.”
“It’s great… on the rare occasion it’s on time.”
They sat catty-corner at the end of the table, and Winston opened his file. “Rachel N. Kahn. You’ve had a busy career.”
She clasped her hands on the table. “Busy, but not always satisfying.”
“Why not?”
“I enjoyed the nonprofit world, but you don’t earn much as a junior adviser to Planned Parenthood. The huge loan I was carrying from law school hung over me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you moved to corporate law to make big bucks.”
“The salary was one motive. The other was learning about the private sector. At Wilkinson and Evans, I learned a lot.”
“But…”
She adjusted the scarf at her neck. “I wasn’t satisfied defending corporations that were often unethical, greedy, and dishonest.”
“Without naming names, can you provide examples?”
“Yes. At first, I worked for shady social media firms, then my job became, distressingly. defending pharma.”
“Please elaborate.”
“Companies producing and distributing opioids.”
“I see.” He flipped through some pages in his file. “If Justice were to hire you, have you thought about which bureau you’d want to work in?”
She sat back, crossed her legs. “I’m interested in the Office of Legal Counsel. I’ve been absorbed by constitutional law since law school.”
“I see you published two law review articles on con law, as have many of the lawyers here.”
Gentle. Nonetheless, a put-down.
He continued. “Most of our OLC lawyers clerked for Supreme Court justices.”
A less gentle put-down. “If that’s required, it lets me out.”
“You do recognize the legal counsel offers opinions to the President and executive branch on many different topics.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “It’s also the most prestigious assignment in the department. Everyone in OLC first worked somewhere else in DOJ.”
“I’d certainly be willing to do that.”
“I hear you,” he said gruffly. “I’ll get back to you in a day or so once I’ve checked your references further. I need to make a few inquiries.”
She stood and extended her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
He smiled at last. “If all goes well, we can discuss which vacancies might be a good fit.”
Rachel left the office disheartened. She obviously wasn’t a prime candidate since she had no previous government experience – nor a clerkship – on her resumé. She’d been hoping her ten years of previous practice would pay off. Alright, she’d be patient, but she’d also start thinking about other jobs that would be rewarding.

She splurged on a second taxi to Lindsay’s apartment near Dupont Circle. Lindsay had been her roommate, when Lindsay had been at Columbia Med School and she at NYU Law school. Given Lindsay’s hours as a student and intern, she hadn’t been around much. Rachel had been so glad when Lindsay decided to be a pediatrician and to go into solo practice. Both choices would give her more time for her personal life and their shared interests in art museums and foreign films.
Lindsay had left a door key in an envelope in her open mailbox. Letting herself in, Rachel was cheered to see a tweed sofa and chairs, wooden coffee table with coffee rings, and brass lamps, all from ten years earlier. She sighed. Home away from home.
Lindsay had also left a welcoming note on the kitchen table saying the ingredients for spaghetti sauce were in the fridge and on the kitchen counter – if Rachel felt so inclined. She got to work quickly, mixing canned tomato sauce with beef, mushrooms, onions, and peppers. She’d pick up a hearty red wine after a visit to the Phillips Museum. A long, winey dinner with Lindsay seemed just right.

At six p.m., Rachel poured a good amount of red wine into her simmering sauce as well as a healthy glass for herself and pulled together a green salad. The Frankenthaler exhibit at the Phillips had been inspiring. It had definitely taken her mind off of Justice. She switched on the television, took in the latest statistics about Covid. It was infuriating how the virus had completely eclipsed the country’s other epidemic, opioids.
Lindsay, wearing a white medical coat over a sweater and slacks, burst into the apartment and threw her arms around Rachel. “You’re here, roomie. A few days like old times.” She sniffed the air. “Oregano, garlic. Could that possibly be your famous spaghetti sauce?”
“You know it is, only I doubled the wine.”
“Go, girl. Start the pasta. I’m starving.” Lindsay ran her fingers through her wavy copper hair, rubbed her neck with both hands. “Excuse me for a moment. Dr. O’Neill will set the table as soon as she dumps this uniform.”
Returning to the kitchen in jeans, Lindsay grabbed silverware from a kitchen drawer. “Tell me about your day.”
Stirring the pasta in boiling water, Rachel pronounced Frankenthaler a genius.
“Forget the museum,” she exclaimed. “I’ve seen the show. Tell me about your new job.”
“It’s not my job yet, may never be. The HR Director was at best lukewarm.”
“Why? You’ve done exceptionally in two different fields.”
“But not in government.” She stirred the spaghetti. “Got a strainer?”
Minutes later, they sat down at the dining table with two heaping plates of spaghetti drenched in sauce and smothered in parmesan. Rachel replayed the conversation with