“Where is everyone?” Bryan asked Camilla.
“Who knows? They’ve disappeared into thin air. Really, I think you of all people should have been given a heads-up about this inconvenience.”
“Camilla, are you listening to me? My entire life has become inconvenient, and I don’t have the patience to put up with a whining spoiled woman. Go back to Bermuda, and pick up where we left off, with someone else. I won’t be traveling for a while.”
“Are you ending it with me?” she asked as if they’d been an item for years.
“I suppose I am. I need time to set my father’s lawyer straight.”
“You go for it,” Camilla said with force, rubbing her hand along his back as if it could make everything all right. Had she always been that annoying? He’d probably been too drunk to notice, but the day’s events were enough to sober him, and fast.
He glanced toward the bar and bit his lip. No. He had other things that needed to be done with a clear mind before indulging in his sleeping remedy.
“You go pack. I’ve got a phone call to make.”
Camilla stomped off down the hall as Bryan entered his father’s home office. He clicked on the computer and searched Google for a reputable lawyer in the area that dealt in estates and wills. Bryan managed to narrow it down to three names, and he punched each of the numbers in on the home line.
The first one was a bust—the guy was dead himself, and they hadn’t taken the site down yet. The second asked for twenty percent of the enormous fee upfront upon hearing Bryan’s name, which would have eaten away most of the contents of his bank account. It felt strange to be shopping for a bargain, particularly as he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d given the price tag a second thought. The third proved to have the same requirements, and there would be more outrageous demands that would mount, starting with their second conversation.
Bryan slammed his fist on the desk and jumped to his feet. He needed a drink, but before he could pour the whiskey into a tumbler, a thought crossed his mind: could he survive the stress without the amount of alcohol he was used to consuming? The question was more than likely irrelevant, as he was confident he couldn’t afford the luxury. There was no way out of this mess but to play along with his father’s request. He hated the idea of working when he knew his buddies were partying hard in all of the best vacation spots in the world. And he certainly wasn’t excited about spending time with that do-good nurse. Then again, she was after the same thing as him—a final payout. Maybe they weren’t so different at the core, after all.
He stood and was headed for the door when Camilla popped her head in. “I got a flight back to the island. Chet will meet me at the airport. Says to tell you to take care, and he’ll see you when you get your business settled.”
“Sure,” Bryan said. “Don’t hold your breath—this might take a while.”
“Will John drive me to the airport?”
“Only if you have a hundred dollars in your purse.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Have you ever paid for anything in your life?” Bryan asked, but then shook his head. “Forget it. At any rate, it seems to be the going price to hire a chauffeur today. Take it or grab a cabbie if you think you’ll do better with them.”
She snuggled up against him. “Tell me you’re going to miss me, and I’ll wait for you.”
“I never asked you to wait,” he said abruptly. “Get on with your life.”
“I don’t like this new you, so cold and unfeeling. Maybe you need a drink.”
“And maybe you shouldn’t be telling me how to live my life.” He fanned his fingers through his hair. “I’m a mess. Ignore me and return to the resort. Have a drink for me.” He kissed her lightly. “Let me see if I can find John.”
After she had gone, the apartment seemed to breathe a little easier. He strolled into the kitchen, feeling like a trespasser as he opened the fridge to find leftover lasagna and ingredients for a tossed salad. In the pantry, he found a roll of garlic bread. He threw the main course on a plate and stuck it in the microwave. At least, he knew how to work one of those. With no kitchen workers to interfere, he felt grateful he wouldn’t starve that night.
What an odd sensation. Having seen all the pleas on television for support in underprivileged countries, Bryan imagined the status of the people he might encounter on Katelyn’s mission trip, but he tossed that deplorable image in the garbage. Surely, her medical teams went to modern hospitals to do their good deeds.
Was he really considering this African excursion? The thought of it made his skin crawl. He’d never spent any time anywhere that didn’t have a five-star rating, and he hoped they were headed for a modern city, complete with amenities to enjoy in his spare time. He’d stretch the money his father had set aside for the trip to include a bit of party time. Even do-gooders had to kick back sometime.
By the time his head had hit the pillow, he was priding himself in the fact that he hadn’t succumbed to the temptation of the liquor bar all evening. It was only eleven o’clock, and although he’d love to crank up the music to bring any staff hiding in their rooms out into the open, he didn’t. It wasn’t fun to party alone, and he knew by experience that those who did fell into the realm of addiction.
Since that hour of day usually signified the time for his second wind, sleep evaded him. When he finally dropped off, he awoke at three in the morning in a pool of sweat, having had nightmares of snakes and wild animals that had chased him for miles. But when the prowling lion revealed himself, ready to pounce, he noticed in horror that his father was sitting on its back, smiling from ear to ear.
He bolted upright, drew his knees to his chin and rested his head there until his breathing had returned to normal.
God’s hand is not shortened,
and through every trial
a blessing awaits those who will receive it.
Chapter 3
Katelyn stretched the next morning as she looked out the window in Bryan’s bedroom—who had chosen to return to the mainland and not remain on the yacht the night before. That day was the beginning of her biggest challenge. She was used to ministering to poor people who owned nothing of value, and had succeeded in sidestepping wealthy, immature men who’d been handed life on a silver platter. They were the hardest to reach because they had no earthly need of a Savior, or so they thought, but God was aware of this recent turn of events, and His ever-flowing fountain that drew lost souls to Himself had not dried up. He would triumph through her meagre efforts—she was counting on it, because it pained her to admit that she’d just as soon leave the man to rot on poverty hill.
She scolded herself, for this was not a compassionate or acceptable train of thought for a missionary. What was it about this man that annoyed her so? She knew his kind well, but in the end concluded none of it mattered. Katelyn had given her promise to a dying man and she would see the mission through to the end—one day at a time. And this was only day one.
Groaning, she climbed out of bed, dressed in a light summer frock with matching sandals, clipped the sides of her dark hair back, and completed the outfit with a floppy hat. When she was done, Katelyn stood back to assess her profile. It was quaint and comfortable, which suited her preferred casual style, yet the total effect provided enough class to keep her from being thrown into the money-hungry pool of vultures Bryan had proclaimed her to be on their first encounter. The Sea Winder would be moored here for as long as she needed to get him motivated to prepare for the trip overseas.
The boat took her ashore, and a cab picked her up for the drive to the penthouse. Traffic was heavy in the city, but thankfully, the complex was not too far from the docks. She practically skipped up the steps beneath the marble pillars, and when she reached the entrance, the doorman held it wide for her.
“Sad to hear about Mr. Charter’s passing,” the man said. “He was a friendly man, and I’ll miss the string of jokes he told while on his way for his morning jog in the park.”
“Yes, I enjoyed his sense of humor, as well. It kept us all on our toes, never knowing if his wild imagination was conjuring up some gag at our expense.”
The man laughed heartily. “Yes, I recall a few about doormen that sounded a little close to home.” He opened the door wide, and Katelyn slipped through.
The receptionist at the desk nodded and scribbled in his book. No one entered the building without being marked in, and no one left without being signed out. It was a security element the residents no doubt paid for.
“Is Mr. Charters IV in the penthouse?”
“Yes, Miss Simms. Go on up.” The employees knew her by sight, allowing her to move freely in the building.
New York was not her favorite place in America; it was too busy. Not to diminish the fact that she was a southern-born gal and being trapped in the cold state for most of the winter, nursing the senior Mr. Charters had not been easy, but she’d promised his wife to look out for him, and she felt that the Lord had placed her there as sure as He had for every medical mission’s project she organized.
She’d met Uncle Bryan when he’d married her adopted Aunt Jasmin, a neighbor woman with whom she’d spent every spare minute as a teenager. Even after the woman had married and moved north, Katelyn took summer vacations to the great state of New York to stay in touch with the couple. After Jasmin’s sudden death, she continued to visit and encourage Bryan Charter III to stay connected with the local congregation where he’d found his faith.
Not once during that entire period had she crossed paths with Uncle Bryan’s absentee son, who seemed to avoid home like the plague. Well, there’d be no sidestepping this next adventure that would throw them together, for better or worse.
She zoomed upward in the private elevator and stepped out when the doors slid open on the top floor. Katelyn inhaled deeply, and headed for the entryway to the penthouse suite, rang the bell, and waited, wondering if Timothy, the butler, would answer. He didn’t have to, according to the guidelines his boss had set in motion for the next six months, and it remained to be seen if the young Bryan would take the initiate to come to the door.
Katelyn waited and rang again.
An agitated voice called out, “Hold your pants on,” as it drew nearer. It was Bryan, who was apparently still in a foul mood.
When the door swung open, the man appeared startled at her presence. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” he asked, scanning her from head to toe as if she were his next prized pursuit. Perhaps she’d overdone her appearance, it appeared his tastes in women were all over the map.
“You only have three months in phase one before we return to meet with Mr. Bennis, not much time to dry up and get a handle on what is expected of you.”
“You’ve chalked me up as a failure, haven’t you?”
“I have only yesterday to judge you by, and even you must agree, you were not in prime condition.” She glanced over him, using the same scrutiny he had on her, and grinned. “It appears today is not much better. That’s the same shirt you wore to the reading, and your pants look like you slept in them.”
“Well, it so happens that I didn’t—I sleep in the raw.” He studied her but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching. It made him chuckle. “You’re a tough cookie, Miss Simms.”
“Armed and ready.”
“You carry a gun?” he asked.
“I was referring to the Word of God, not a firearm, but that being said, yes, I own a pistol, and I know how to use it, so you can feel safe with me by your side.”
This time, he laughed outright. “Well, you are definitely an improvement on the last bodyguard—bald, he-man…you know the type.”
“Are you going to invite me in, or will we conduct our business in the hall?”
He opened the door wider and waved her through. “Been really quiet around here. Suppose I might appreciate some company.”
“Good. Do you have tea on? I brought some raisin biscuits from Dales Donut Shop.”
“Perfect. I’m famished. But tea? I’m not too good in the kitchen,” he said. “Only made it through supper because of the leftovers in the fridge.”
“Boiling water is a good first lesson.” The playful glance Katelyn offered him on her way past him made his face flush. She grabbed hold of the faint smidgen of hope for the man who was about to be thrust so far from his comfort zone.
In the kitchen, she lifted the electric kettle and waved it back and forth in the air. “This is a kettle.” At the sink, she flipped open the lid and filled the appliance. “This is water.” She plunked the top back down, secured it, and returned it to its base. “And this is the on switch. When the light goes off, the water is boiled and ready to pour into the teapot.” She found one on the counter. “This is a teapot, and in this container are the tea bags. I prefer plain black tea—is herbal your preference?”
“No, black is fine.” He found plates in the cupboard, placed a biscuit on each, and set them on the table.
“Very helpful. A for effort, Mr. Charter.”
He sat at the table, and she felt his eyes on her, watching her pour the hot water into the pot.
She brought it to the table and smiled. “In Africa, tea making will be slightly different. There probably won’t be any electric kettles in some of the places we go, so we’ll use a pot over a Coleman stove, or perhaps a grate on an outside fire.”
“No electricity in the city?”
“Our mission is located in the city of Nairobi, Kenya, Mr. Charter but we serve many tribes who live too far from civilization to get the medical help they desperately need.”
“Hey, I was beginning to warm-up to this idea, but I’m no jungle monkey. The closest I came was a brief tour into a tropical rainforest while on vacation. I couldn’t wait for the day to end, and no one could persuade me to venture into the wilderness after that.”
“That is where we’re headed,” Katelyn said. “The trip was planned before you came onto the scene.”
“Did my father know? Surely he didn’t do these kind of missions trips.”
“As a matter of fact, they were his favorites. To think his fellow man existed in settings he could never have imagined often moved him to tears. It was the impetus for his service to soar him to new heights.”
“Did you ever think he got the cancer bug from one of these wild-life adventures?”
“Didn’t happen that way,” Katelyn said. “His cancer was aggressive, and by the time he was diagnosed, he had already advanced to stage four.”
“You probably don’t believe it, but I wish I’d come earlier. I never knew the man that you obviously did.”
“So far this morning, you haven’t given me any reason to disbelieve you. I’d guard that fragile relationship if I were you. We’re going to be hanging out together for at least three months.”
“Not three months in the jungle, right?”
“When the teams change, we will need to go to the city before heading back out to the field. Sometimes we just stay in Nairobi and tend to the many who line-up outside our gates. I’ll try to go easy on you.”
“Poverty is sounding better all the time,” Bryan said. When she didn’t fall prey to his pity party, he said, “So you haven’t told me what a non-medical man like me does on a trip with doctors and nurses.”
“I was thinking that you could do the organizing. You know, sign the patients in and encourage them when they’re afraid.”
“Are you kidding? You listed off the shots I have to get, and I’m half-scared to death. I hate needles!”
“Yes, about that.” She dug insides her purse. “It so happens that I made you an appointment before I left the yacht this morning—I have some pull at the clinic, being here with your dad. Some of the staff there have even signed up for future projects while others have donated to the foundation. Many great people in New York are invested in the untouched groups of the world.”
“And the appointment is…when?”
“Two hours
from now. They squeezed you into a hole in the schedule, which is rare. You should be grateful.”
“Only when it’s done, will I be grateful.”
“I have a question,” Katelyn said.
“Fire away.”
“Yesterday, you arrived at the reading, already drunk and defensive, and you stormed out of the meeting vowing you’d never be involved in your father’s plan, but today, I see a different man, and I wonder why. Is it because you think it might be nice to help your fellow man, or is it simply the means to an end, meaning the money?”
“Do I need to answer that?”
“No, but in refusing, I will take it to mean that you are somewhere in the middle of the conundrum.”
“I can live with that deduction.”
“Good. Then I call it progress, and we’re only one day in.”
“Since we’re being honest, I was wondering if maybe we aren’t as different as you think. We both want the money in the end, you just want to do it the hard way, and I want it the easy way.”
“You think I need your father’s billion-dollar gift? I accept it because God wants His children to be givers, and I did not want to rob Uncle Bryan—as I called him—of that blessing. It is a proven fact that if the Lord can loosen the hold on your pocketbook, the rest comes easy.”
“Money is the root of all evil,” Bryan said. “I’ve heard that recited before from self-righteous takers who really want to switch places to sit on the top rung of the financial ladder and rule from their corner of the world.”
“Money means power to you?” Katelyn asked.
“Sure. When you’re in position to control someone else’s future or an empire, there is no better feeling.”
“Like being your own god? I hope to show you a better feeling, Bryan Charter. Giving a piece of yourself to show God’s love to another person is beyond what the human mind can understand.”
Bryan sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not doing this project to show God’s love.”
A Legacy for Bryan Page 3
