Noa's Arc

By Ellen Boneparth

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.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665579209

Ellen Boneparth

In her many novels, Ellen Boneparth usually features a woman who discovers a social problem and becomes embroiled in ways to confront it. Boneparth draws on her experiences working in government, academia and diplomacy. She also frequently draws on her domestic and overseas travels to provide foreign locations and unusual environments. In NOA's ARC, the heroine's journey to confront drug addiction takes her from New York to Washington, D.C., to the Cherokee reservation in Oklahoma, and to drug programs in the Northwest and Canada.

Book preview

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.

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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.

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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.

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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 Todd Winston. Lindsay insisted it was a neutral exchange, certainly not negative. It sounded like there were possibilities at Justice as long as Rachel was willing to start at the shallow end of the pool.

Rach, I’m biased, she said. I so want you to come to DC. You can stay in my guest room as long as you like. She reached for Rachel’s arm and squeezed. No, you can stay there forever.

Thanks, roomie, but the idea of this move is to make a new start. I just need to find a way to pay for it.

You’ve paid off your loan.

Finally.

Don’t give up on Justice, Lindsay said as she helped herself to salad. Now tell me more about your life.

Well, no more Larry Rosen. He’ll never find time to make it from New Haven to Washington. He barely finds time to come to New York.

You don’t sound sad.

She grinned. I’m not.

In my humble opinion, Professor Rosen was always more consumed with himself than he was with you.

"He was interesting."

As a legal scholar, maybe, not as a partner.

Rachel swirled her fork on the table. I’m feeling a need for a new me. I’ve even been thinking of changing my name.

To what?

My middle name. Noa.

I never knew what the N stood for. Lindsay pushed back from the table. Like Noah’s ark?

Rachel cocked her head. It is a woman’s Hebrew name, quite popular in Israel. Possibly linked to Noah, but more likely to Noach, which means ‘movement.’

I like it – unusual, active, yet soft. Are you serious about changing?

Just thinking about it. I might try Noa if I come here.

Noa, have faith. You’ll come here.

It had been a wonderful evening, just like old times. They shared a long hug before Rachel climbed into the guest room bed. She quickly checked her phone and was surprised to find a text from Todd Winston. Leave a text, he wrote, if you can meet with me tomorrow at 3 p.m.

Heavens. She smiled. He wouldn’t have asked for a meeting just to turn her down. Perhaps there was something at Justice after all.

Maybe Rachel, no, Noa, was actually doing it, heading toward a whole new beginning.

Chapter 2

F or their second meeting, Winston led Rachel into his private office. The leather chairs gave off a pleasant musky smell like the upholstery of a new car. Please sit.

He sat down at his desk, turned to his computer. We have two vacancies for you to consider. One is in the Office on Violence Against Women, the other in our Consumer Protection Branch. He turned, studied Rachel. You don’t seem pleased.

I’m pleased there are two vacancies, but I was hoping to be in the heart of the action.

I thought you’d jump at violence against women.

She stared at the file cabinet behind him. I don’t want to get pigeonholed on women’s issues. And, frankly, consumer protection sounds kind of dull.

You’re wrong. The vacancy is in the Pharmaceuticals and Medical Devices division. You’d be on the other side of the opioid exploiters.

That would be good, although, with all the recent court settlements, it seems most of the action is over.

No way. He cleared his throat. True, we’ve had some big settlements against manufacturers like Purdue, distributors like McKesson, and some big pharmacy chains. But there’s still a lot of action against internet pharmacies and pill mills selling drugs, allegedly for addiction treatment.

He rose. Go search the Web for our recent cases. Then give me a call tomorrow and let me know if you’re interested.

Will do. Thank you.

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Rachel hurried to the Metro, eager to get to Lindsay’s to research the Pharmaceutical Division.

She plunked herself down at Lindsay’s desk, pulled her iPad out of her shoulder bag. The list of the division’s recent litigation went on and on. It covered cases against physicians, pharmacies, clinics, marketers of addiction treatment drugs, and small opioid distributors. The fines were substantial, and the convicted actually went to jail, unlike the big-time manufacturers and distributors who got away with paying fines.

Eager to share her news with Lindsay, Rachel pulled on some slacks to meet her friend at a neighborhood Japanese restaurant.

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At the Sakura restaurant, its Japanese lanterns hanging over the bar, Lindsay looked up from the menu. Something good has happened, she said as Rachel plunked herself down on a stool next to her. Was I right about having faith?

Rachel put her arm around Lindsay. I think so. Let me tell you what happened.

Okay, but let’s order first. I didn’t have time for lunch.

They ordered saki and an array of sushi rolls from the young barman. Against the muted sounds of the sushi chef at work, Rachel described her meeting with Winston then enumerated all the kinds of cases the Pharmaceutical Division was handling.

Lindsay raised her saki cup. A done deal?

I think. Rachel clinked her cup. To my new life. And my new name. She broke into a broad smile. Can you get used to Noa?

It’ll be strange, but I’ll try. When do you start work?

Not sure. I need time to move. I’d love to find a place before I ship my stuff down here.

How about house-hunting this weekend? I was planning to take you to the National Gallery, but an apartment takes priority. I know a great rental agent. I’ll leave him a message. Any idea where you’d like to live?