He stopped in his tracks and glared at her, every trace of his teasing manner instantly gone. "How can you possibly say that?"
She cringed inwardly. When would she ever learn? She seemed to have an absurd talent for saying exactly the wrong thing when it came to trying to offer comfort and sympathy. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it came out."
"I don't see how you can argue the point. When a man's life is cut short before he even turns thirty--especially someone like Josh who had such skills, such a gift to offer--it's a tragedy."
Another wave of heat laved her. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to imply that your son's death wasn't a tragedy. Of course it was! A terrible tragedy. All I meant was that, even as short as his life was, it wasn't wasted. I didn't know Joshua, but from what I've heard about him, I believe the good he did--even in the short time he was on this earth--will continue to have repercussions for a long time to come. Surely for eternity."
For a long minute he didn't respond. He walked on with his head down, jaw rigid. Finally he turned to her. "Well, pardon me if I would happily trade whatever those repercussions might be for another chance to make things right with my son."
Valerie wished the gigantic hole she'd just dug for herself would swallow her up and close behind her. Why hadn't she just kept her big mouth shut? Regret twisted her stomach. She swallowed down the urge to explain herself, the irrational desire to make amends with this man who'd been a stranger only a few hours ago.
They walked along in silence, the noon sun scorching their heads.
Eyes stinging, she finally turned to him. "Dr. Jordan...Max...I am so sorry. The things I said were completely insensitive. I've never lost a child. I have no idea what that must feel like. Can you forgive me?"
He gave a tight-lipped smile, but the sternness in his eyes diminished. "It's no big deal. You were only trying to help."
"Thank you. That's true, but it's no excuse. And it is a big deal, to me." She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. It would only make things worse if she started crying and made him feel that he had to comfort her. "What I said was out of line. I was very thoughtless."
"Okay. I'll give you that. Now, let's try this one more time." The grin he gave her appeared genuine. "Lovely weather we're having, don't you think?"
She could have hugged him. She looked at the fireball of a sun in the sky, ignored the bead of perspiration trickling down her temple and matched his smile. "Yes, it is lovely."
Chapter Fifteen
Marie Duval unlocked the gate to the children's home and turned to the cluster of weary travelers. "Why don't you all stay for a bit?" she crooned in her honeyed Creole accent. "We'll have the girls fix us a bite to eat and you can rest your feet before you go home." She untied the wide ribbon from beneath her chin and stripped the huge straw hat from her head.
Valerie marveled at the way the woman's close-cropped ebony curls sprang to attention, as if they'd just been released from prison. Valerie put a hand to her own tangled mop of hair and tried to smooth the flyaway strands back into her ponytail. She must look awful after their long trek from the market in the heat and dust.
She checked her watch. Almost one o'clock. It had taken them two hours to walk back from the market. They were all hot and exhausted. And hungry, her stomach reminded with a low rumble.
Betty Greene put a hand on her husband's arm. "What do you think, Phil? Could we stay?"
He shrugged. "If you can get hold of Henri so they won't worry about us, I'm all for it." He winked and affected a stage whisper. "I overheard Marie and Samantha talking...something about baking coconut pies this morning."
"Phil! Mind your manners!" Betty punched her husband playfully.
A deep, melodious chuckle rolled from Madame Duval's throat. "Then you must stay or I'll never hear the end of it. Betty warned me about your sweet tooth."
Pastor Phil laughed along with her, but turned serious when he caught Valerie's eye. "Are you all right? This morning was more than you bargained for, I'm sure. Would you rather get back to Hope House?"
"No. No, I'm fine. I'd like to stay." But she gave an inward sigh when Madame Duval closed the gate behind them and Valerie heard the lock click in place. She wondered if the others felt as relieved as she did to be safely ensconced behind the fortress of concrete and jagged glass.
Pastor and Madame Phil followed Madame Duval to the main dwelling to call Hope House and let them know the plans.
Max Jordan started toward a water pump at the side of the largest building. "I'll man the pump if anyone wants to wash up."
Valerie and Samantha exchanged glances, then smiled and took off running. By the time they reached the pump, they were squealing like little girls. Max barely had the pump primed before they were vying for space beneath the spigot. But even the thin stream of lukewarm water felt delicious as it trickled over Valerie's dusty feet and hands.
Max worked the squeaky pump handle up and down and finally cool water sluiced over them. Valerie and Samantha lifted their skirts to their knees and held their legs under the stream. A galvanized washtub underneath the spigot caught the overflow so it could be used later to water the plants or mop the kitchen floor.
The young women filled their cupped hands with the clear water and splashed it over their faces and necks.
"Be careful not to drink any," Dr. Jordan warned.
"Oh, but it's so tempting," Valerie moaned. The canteens of water they'd carried with them to the market had been drained long before they arrived back in Brizjanti. Her mouth was parched.
"Don't worry," Samantha told her, "we have plenty of bottled water. I'll get you drinks as soon as we're finished here."
Dr. Jordan cleared his throat loudly. "Um, excuse me, ladies. I don't suppose there's a chance I could have a turn at that water anytime today?"
Before she had time to think about her actions, Valerie did what she would have done had it been Will Concannon on the other side of the pump. She filled her cupped hands from the washtub and slung the cold water at the doctor.
Samantha yelped with glee and followed suit, soaking the front of Max Jordan's denim shirt. Valerie reloaded the bowl of her hands and fired again.
A look of shock came over the doctor's face, and for a minute Valerie was afraid they'd made him angry. But he quickly recovered and got into the spirit of the game. He pumped the handle furiously, then reached around to clap a hand over the spigot. Water sprayed in all directions.
Valerie and Samantha backpedaled away from the pump, sputtering and spitting and screaming. Samantha shot Valerie a conspiratorial grin and she felt an instant kinship with the girl.
Max finally let go of the pump and put his hands on his knees, laughing and out of breath. It was the first time Valerie had heard him laugh. It was a contagious, tuneful sound, and she and Samantha laughed along with him.
Finally he straightened, arms akimbo. "Okay, are you two ready to call a truce?"
Valerie tipped her head and looked to Samantha. "What do you think?"
"I think we'll be very sorry if we don't." Samantha grimaced comically.
"Okay then. I'll take the pump. You cover me," she told the young woman, "just in case he's not a man of his word."
"Hey! I resent that," Max said, but his voice was teasing. He rolled his short shirtsleeves as high as they'd go and put his hands under the spigot.
Valerie worked the squeaky pump while he washed up.
Now the burning sun felt good as it dried out her damp clothes. She heard laughter and looked up to see Pastor and Madame Phil coming toward them across the yard with half a dozen children trailing after them. "Looks like word got out there was a water fight," she said.
Max grinned impishly. "Well, then we don't want to disappoint them, do we?"
Seeing the boyish look on his face, Valerie had a hard time believing this man had had a son old enough to be a doctor.
Samantha ran over to the concrete slab near the clothesline and brought back two small laundry b
uckets. She dipped them into the steel tub under the faucet. "Here, quick! Fill these up."
While Valerie plunged them into the tub, she shouted a warning to Pastor Phil and Betty. "You two might want to stand back."
They heard Pastor Phil chuckle.
His wife called back in a prideful singsong voice, "You don't know who you're dealing with here. Phil Greene is known in Brizjanti as the undisputed king of water fights."
"Uh-oh..." Samantha gave Valerie a sidewise glance.
"What have we gotten ourselves into?"
"Yeah, and I was almost dry, too."
Pastor Phil whispered behind his hand to his wife. She handed him something and he took off at a jog toward them. He ran like a man half his age. As he got closer, Valerie realized he carried a large drinking cup in each hand.
Samantha saw it, too. "Uh-oh," she said again.
Before they knew what hit them, the pastor had breached the fortress they'd formed around the water pump. He dipped both cups into the washtub at once and fired twin streams of water at them like six-shooters. The cold water caught them full in the face. Valerie and Samantha gasped in unison. Behind them, Max Jordan burst into laughter.
They both turned to glare at him only to have Pastor Phil's "six-guns" hit them again from behind.
Max gave an exaggerated shrug. Pastor Phil laughed with him. The children caught up with them and pranced around the pump shouting "Dlo! Dlo! Mouye!"
Pastor Phil nodded toward the children. "They want you to splash them." As if to demonstrate, he flung the last drips of water from the drinking cups at them.
Samantha giggled. "No problemo!" She scooped handfuls of water from the laundry buckets they'd filled again and flung them at the children. Happy pandemonium broke out as the kids ducked to get at the water.
One ornery little boy got braver and braver and finally got close enough to pick up the half-filled washtub. He launched its contents, soaking Max's shirt anew.
Max spat and turned to Valerie. "Man the pump! I can't let that little guy get away with this."
Laughing, she took his place at the helm. He filled the other small bucket and growling playfully, chased the boy across the grass. When he finally caught him, he ceremoniously dumped the whole thing over his head. Then in one smooth motion, he picked the boy up and flung him over his shoulder as if he were one of the sacks of onions they'd brought back from the market.
Max carried him to the pump and held him, squealing with glee, while Samantha splashed him for good measure.
Betty Greene had stood watching and laughing, out of range of their arsenal. Now she called out, her tone scolding. "Phil, you're wasting Marie's water!"
Valerie realized Betty's scolding was meant more for the Americans than for her husband. Water was precious in Haiti.
"We'd better dry off." Valerie was still breathing hard.
"Lunch is probably waiting for us by now," Betty said. "We should get inside."
Suddenly Valerie was famished. Apparently they all were, for Betty's words set off a mad race for the dining room.
Their silly antics took the edge off a day that had been filled with tension and fear, but later, as they sat around the table nursing huge forkfuls of fluffy coconut pie, their conversation turned to the close call they'd had at the market.
"Is this something you deal with on a regular basis, Pastor Greene?" Max asked.
Pastor Phil put a hand on the doctor's arm. "Please, Dr. Jordan...Call me Phil."
"I'll call you Phil if you'll call me Max. I'm still having trouble figuring out the system here." He turned to Betty Greene. "You're Madame Phil, right?"
She laughed. "Well, Betty to you, please. But, yes. Here the women go by their husband's first name."
Max turned to Marie Duval. "So Madame Duval, your husband's first name must have been Duval, is that right?"
The woman laughed her rich, deep laugh. "Ah, I'm sorry to confuse you, but my husband's name was Stephen Duval. I suppose because the children's home bore his surname, people began to call me after the home. So, I should be Madame Stephen, but somehow I became Madame Duval. It is confusing, I know. Of course you could make it simple and just call me Marie."
Max shook his head. "I may have to do that, just to keep it all straight in my mind."
Pastor Phil cleared his throat. "To answer your question, Max, what happened today was a closer call than we've ever had, but it wasn't unusual. We always know that at any time violence could break out. It has been the way of Haiti for as long as anyone can remember. The slaves who led this country's rebellion literally sold its soul to the devil almost two hundred years ago."
"I don't understand," Max said, his brows knit.
"I don't know how much you know about the country's voodoo religion, but it is a very real religion. Those rebels sacrificed a pig--drank its blood in a voodoo ceremony."
Max winced and all the women made little sounds of disgust.
"By doing so," Pastor Phil continued, "they pledged that Haiti would serve the devil for two hundred years in exchange for their independence from France. It took more than a decade, but they finally overthrew the colony and gained their independence."
Valerie felt she was listening to a chilling fairy tale, but she heard the voodoo drums in the distance all too clearly each night as she lay in her bed in the dormitory.
"I don't know where you stand on the supernatural, Dr. Jordan," Pastor Phil said, "but I truly believe that all the woes this country has suffered are a direct result of that pact with the devil. We are the undisputed poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, we are continually torn by violence, the land itself has been raped and eroded, the AIDS epidemic is rampant here. You've seen it for yourself. It's the devil's work."
Max worried his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head. Valerie couldn't tell if it was his way of politely disagreeing with the pastor, or if he was simply dismayed by this history lesson.
Pastor Phil sighed. "It's not a pleasant subject. I apologize if I've soured the enjoyment of Marie's delicious pie. And Betty and I are hopeful for the future of these people we hold so dear."
Marie Duval shook her head emphatically and murmured her agreement.
"Do you realize," Pastor Phil said, "that the year 2004 marked the end of that bargain with Satan? Of course that contract with the devil has never for a moment kept Christ from offering any individual complete and total freedom. But corporately, it has certainly had a vicious hold on us."
They all listened, intrigued as Phil Greene shared the history he had witnessed firsthand for many of his seventy-eight years, and the hope he and Betty held out for the tiny nation they had adopted as their own.
The sun was well into its afternoon descent when Pastor Phil finally rose from his chair. He patted his wife's shoulders. "We'd best get back to the kids," he told her. "Marie, we thank you for your kindness. I don't believe I've ever had a slice of pie quite so good."
Madame Duval accepted the compliment with a smile and a prim dip of her head.
Valerie pushed back her chair and stretched.
Max Jordan did likewise. "I'll walk back with you."
It was less than five minutes to Hope House. When they arrived at the gate Pastor Phil started through the entrance, but faltered, reaching out to hang on to the crossbars.
"Phil?" His wife linked her arm through his, planted her feet wide and waited for him to steady himself. "Are you all right?"
He cleared his throat. "I'm fine...just tired. It's been a long day."
"Yes, and you've been acting like a child! Off to bed with you then. Goodnight you two."
Max and Valerie bade the couple goodnight and Valerie turned to thank Max for walking them home. She started through the gate, too, but Max touched her arm and motioned for her to stay behind.
He watched the elderly couple walk up the lane, obviously waiting for them to get out of earshot. Valerie's curiosity soared.
Finally, he met her gaze and gave her a smi
le that was almost shy. "I just wanted to tell you...I'm sorry if I was rude to you today. I--"
"Oh, no. Please. I'm the one who should be apologizing."
"I also wanted to tell you that...Well, I think maybe...today at the pump, playing with the kids, I got a glimpse of what my son saw in the life he had here."
She was touched almost to tears. "Oh, Max. I'm so glad."
"Yeah. Me, too." He scuffed a toe in the dirt where the gate scraped the ground. "Well, I'd better get back. I'll see you Tuesday though."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I talked to Pastor Phil and I'm going to spend the day here. Do some checkups for some of the children they're particularly concerned about, some immunizations, help out however I can."
"Oh. Good. I mean...I know they'll really appreciate that."
He lifted a hand in an awkward wave. "Well, 'bye now. It was nice to meet you."
"You, too." She returned his wave and started back for her room. But she wondered at the lightness she suddenly felt in her heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Brizjanti, Haiti, January 20
Valerie soaked up the last of the cool morning air as she sat cross-legged on the rooftop, her Bible and notebook in her lap. The roosters' chorus that had awakened her an hour ago started again and she smiled, amazed all over again to find herself in a place so radically different than her own plans would have found her.
It was her ninth morning waking up in Brizjanti. She had come to treasure these early-morning times. Without the daily craziness of her job at the ad agency, and the distractions the wedding plans had imposed on every waking minute of the last few months, she'd found a renewed sense of peace, a centeredness that she'd forgotten existed.
Yesterday had been Sunday and everyone from the orphanage had walked to the open-air church half a mile up the road. Just past the gate, they'd joined up with Madame Duval and Samantha Courtney, who were shepherding a group of children. Valerie had hoped to see Dr. Jordan with them. She wanted to thank him again for helping her and Jaelle during all the excitement in the market.
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