Over the Waters

by Deborah Raney

  Later, when they were seated, she turned in the pew and searched the large sanctuary for him. She spotted Madame Duval and Samantha a few rows behind them and waved, but Dr. Jordan had apparently not come with them.

  Half a dozen times, she'd reached up to adjust the tiny white prayer cap Madame Phil had loaned her. Even though every woman in the sanctuary wore a similar head covering, she felt self-conscious and awkward wearing it. Then the service had started and she forgot about anything but how amazing it was to be there, sharing the Sabbath with her new friends from Brizjanti. And with the children of the two orphanages. She'd been so impressed with how well-behaved and attentive they were throughout the long service.

  She smiled to herself, thinking how truly inspired she'd been by a worship service in which she understood so little of what was spoken or sung. But she'd been able to guess at the lyrics to some of the hymns simply because the melodies were the same familiar praise songs they were probably singing back in her church in Kansas City that day.

  On the walk home after the service, the Greenes had given her an overview of the young Haitian pastor's sermon. His Scripture reading had been from the fourth chapter of Philippians. Pastor Phil's translation of the message--all about dwelling on what was true and pure and honest, and about being content no matter what the circumstances--made it seem as though the sermon had been prepared especially for Valerie Austin.

  After church, they'd had a light lunch at the orphanage, then took a stroll by the bay before returning to Hope House for long afternoon naps. Surely it was exactly the way God had intended the Sabbath to be celebrated, for she'd awakened this morning refreshed and ready for the week ahead.

  Tipping her face to the gentle breeze that blew across the roof, Valerie straightened her legs, and leaned back on her elbows. Thank you, Lord, for bringing me here. Even though I had to lose Will in order to find myself in this place. Immediately, two thoughts came to her. She truly was finding herself in this place. She was discovering things about herself that she'd never known--or at least never admitted. And she hadn't really lost Will, since she'd never "owned" him to begin with.

  More and more, she was able to acknowledge what a blessing it was that she and Will had come to their senses and called off the wedding before they'd made a commitment that would have trapped them both, stifled them in a union that would have kept each of them from being all God meant them to be. She saw it so clearly now. It was hard to fathom how blind she'd been to that fact before, how completely she'd allowed her desire for marriage and children to choke out God's voice and his leading.

  But here, she'd found the time to contemplate her future. It was a place to be quiet before the Lord and to begin to discover what it was she was supposed to do with the rest of her life. She didn't have all the answers yet, but for the first time, she knew without a doubt that she was where she was supposed to be for this brief season of weeks in her life. As yesterday's Scripture had stated, she was learning the secret to being content whatever her circumstances. "Thank you, Lord," she whispered again.

  Below her, in the courtyard, she heard the happy voices of the children as they began their day. In so many ways, she felt as though she'd been here forever. This place that had seemed so alien and exotic only a few days earlier now seemed more real, more solid than the insular world in Kansas City that had been her reality.

  She stood and stretched, then gathered her things and started down the steps. The group of little girls who'd "adopted" her met her at the bottom of the stairs.

  "Miss Valerie! Miss Valerie!" They giggled and fought for the honored position of hand-holder.

  "Bonjou," she said, feeling a smile more genuine than she'd known for a while tug at the corners of her mouth.

  "What's for breakfast this morning? Manje maten?"

  They chattered away in their bubbly Creole. Valerie was beginning to be able to pick out words here and there. She caught janbon and pen grye--ham and toast, but it seemed the more words she learned and understood, the more she realized how far she had to go before she was at all proficient in the language. She'd fooled herself into thinking it would be just a little more difficult than the summer her dad had taught her to speak the silly formulaic pig latin he and Mom had spoken when they wanted to keep a secret from Valerie and Beth. She wished she'd studied the Creole language more seriously before arriving here. Of course, she reminded herself, it wasn't as if she'd known about the trip for months in advance.

  She followed the girls to the dining room and took a plate from the serving line at the pass-through to the kitchen. Usually Betty Greene was behind the counter, greeting every child by name. Valerie had been impressed with the woman's efforts to offer each of the seventy-plus children individual attention and love. It must be an exhausting endeavor.

  But this morning, Sarah, the young woman who usually supervised the younger children stood in Madame Phil's place, doling out cheery smiles with each spoonful of eggs.

  Valerie looked at her with a question in her eyes. "Good morning, Sarah. Is Madame Phil with the babies this morning?"

  "Oh, no. She is with Pastor Phil. He is not feeling well today." Fortunately Sarah's English was excellent.

  "Oh? I hope everything is okay."

  Sarah patted a hand over her ample bosom and shook her head. "His heart. It is not good."

  "I'm sorry to hear that." She'd been amazed by the elderly man's stamina. He'd seemed fine at church yesterday, but last week's scare in the market must have taken its toll. "Is there anything I can do?"

  "Madame Phil will speak to you later. She maybe ask you to help in the nursery? You help me later?"

  "Oh, I'd be happy to. I'd love to."

  Sarah's smile split her face from ear to ear. "You like the little babies, no?"

  "I love the babies."

  "You have babies of your own at home in United States?"

  "Oh, no. I...I'm not married."

  "Ah, you will be someday." Sarah laughed gleefully. "You have lots of babies. Fill up your house with babies."

  Valerie gave a half-hearted grin. "Well...I hope so. I don't know what the Lord has in mind for me." Before she met Will, she'd grown accustomed to the question. It seemed that every meeting of new people--clients at work or visitors to her church--began with the painful questions: "Are you married? Do you have children?" She'd learned to paste a smile on her face and make light of the desire that nearly consumed her at times.

  She found a place at the table between two little uniformed girls she'd not yet shared a table with. They tittered all through breakfast, sneaking peeks at her when they thought she wasn't looking and jabbing each other with thin elbows whenever she spoke to one of them.

  When she was finished eating, they followed her out of the dining room, begging to braid her hair. "Maybe tomorrow," she told them. "Now I need to go visit Pastor and Madame Phil. And you need to get ready for school, don't you?"

  They nodded solemnly, as though she'd reprimanded them.

  "It's okay. I'll see you after school, okay?"

  She didn't know if they understood her, but they flashed her quick smiles, then took off for the dormitory, looking like graceful fawns as they bounded across the courtyard.

  Valerie found Sarah and arranged to relieve her in the nursery at ten o'clock. She walked to the northeast corner of the compound where Pastor and Madame Phil's private quarters were. Henri, the watchman and gate guard, was watering the pots of hibiscus on either side of the front door. She greeted him in Creole before she tapped quietly on the door.

  Through the open windows, she heard footsteps inside. The door opened and Betty Greene poked her head out. "Valerie...Good morning."

  "Sarah said Pastor Phil isn't feeling well this morning. I...I just wondered if there's anything I can do to help."

  "How sweet of you to offer, dear. Sarah took over for me at breakfast, but I'm sure she could use some help in the nursery after the older girls go to school."

  "Yes, I already told
her I'd help." She dipped her head. "It's my favorite place to be anyway."

  Betty smiled. "Yes. Mine, too. Why don't you come in for a minute? I'll make you some tea."

  "Oh, I don't want to be a bother."

  "Nonsense." Madame Phil opened the door wider. "It would do Phil good to have a little company."

  Valerie stepped into the small living room. It was like walking into the parlor of the Kansas farmhouse her Grandma and Grandpa Austin had lived in until their deaths. Though none of the decoration of the room was pretentious or expensive, the walls bore framed prints and fancy needlework, a bookcase held rows of colorfully jacketed volumes and knickknacks that looked as though they might have been crafted by the children of Hope House. There were brightly colored knit afghans draped over the sofa and chairs, and lace doilies adorned the end tables. White muslin curtains fluttered at the open windows.

  "Sit down, dear. How do you take your tea?"

  "Oh, no. I just had breakfast. Please don't go to any trouble."

  Betty Greene motioned for her to sit at the tiny table by the window and against Valerie's protests, she turned on the gas under a teakettle that sat on the stove.

  "I'm so sorry Pastor Phil isn't feeling well."

  "No, he's not." Worry lines creased Betty Greene's forehead. "I'm afraid it's his heart again. He's really been overdoing it and I can't seem to make him slow down."

  "I can believe that. I've been exhausted for days. And all that excitement at the market last week couldn't have been good for anyone's heart!"

  Betty shook her head in wonder. "Yes. Even though we've been through it before, that was a little too close for comfort. I think it shook Phil up a bit more than he's willing to admit. I'm hoping Dr. Jordan will have time to take a look at him when he comes tomorrow. I know he's not a heart doctor, but it might save us a trip to the hospital in Port-au-Prince."

  Valerie smiled to herself, remembering Max Jordan. Funny how she'd already come to think of him as a friend when they'd only just met. "Oh, I'm sure he would be happy to check in on Pastor Phil."

  "Would you pop in and say hello to Phil while I make tea? He was a little down this morning. It's no fun getting old."

  Valerie smiled and rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."

  "Oh, for goodness sake, Miss Valerie. What would you know about being old?"

  "Well...Sometimes I feel like I'm a hundred."

  "You? Why in the world would you feel that way?"

  Valerie was sorry she'd said anything. "Oh, I don't really mean it. Sometimes I just...I worry that I'll be too old to have a family by the time I finally--" She'd started to say "find a man," but she stopped herself. She was tired of thinking that way. One didn't just go on a "manhunt." If God intended her to be married, he already had a man in mind for her, didn't he?

  But she'd already said too much, for Betty Greene plopped down across the table from her. "How old are you, Valerie?"

  "I turned thirty-two in August."

  Betty patted her hand and winked. "Well, don't you worry, Miss Valerie. You have plenty of good years left in you. My mother was forty-two years old when she had me. And she lived to see all our children born."

  Valerie was somewhat buoyed by that piece of information. "How many children do you have?" she asked.

  "We have five grown...and one in heaven."

  "Oh. I'm so sorry."

  "Our Benjamin was killed in Vietnam."

  Valerie gave an involuntary groan. "That must have been awful."

  A shadow passed over the woman's face. "Time has eased the pain, and we've seen God use Benny's death for good again and again, but it was no picnic, I can tell you that."

  "No." Valerie shook her head slowly, trying to imagine what it would be like to send a son off to war and never see him again.

  "Benny had gone to the United States to attend college, but he decided to enlist instead. It about killed Phil. He served in the second war...over in Europe, so he'd seen--" She swiped at the air with one arm as if brushing away a cobweb. "That's all in the past. But anyway, our kids are all over the world now. Two in the States, Matthew is a missionary in Venezuela. The other two are in the U.K."

  "Do you get to see them often?"

  She sighed. "If we saw them every week, it wouldn't be often enough. But we try to get each of them here for a visit every few years. What breaks my heart is that they rarely get to see each other. Not all together anyway."

  Valerie thought about her own sister and the close friendship she and Beth had. "That must be hard," she said.

  Betty Greene nodded, her eyes glazed with tears. The teakettle started a low whine, and Betty brightened and jumped up to move it off the burner. "Come, let's see if Phil is awake. Follow me."

  Valerie rose and followed her down a short hallway behind the kitchen. Betty knocked softly before opening the door to the small bedroom. "Oh, good. You're awake. Look who's come to visit." She stepped back to allow Valerie to enter.

  Phil Greene was propped on pillows in the bed, his face gray and bristled with whiskers. Valerie raised her hand in greeting and forced a smile, but she was startled by the change in his appearance overnight. "Hi there. I'm sorry you're not feeling well."

  He patted a weak hand over his chest. "Aw, it's this old ticker of mine. Completely unreliable."

  She merely nodded, unsure how to respond.

  Betty touched her arm. "I'm going to go fix our tea," she whispered.

  Pastor Phil lifted a hand over the covers and motioned toward the straight-backed chair that sat beside the bed. "Pull that chair out and sit for a minute."

  She did as he instructed, but she wished Betty would come back and rescue her. The pastor's face was pale and drawn and she wasn't sure he would even feel like talking, or what she should say if he did.

  But he relieved her of the burden. "I'm sorry about the scare we had at the market last week. I never would have suggested we go there if I'd known things were heating up in the city."

  "Oh, please don't apologize. It wasn't your fault. And I knew Haiti was a dangerous place when I came. I...counted the cost, I guess you could say."

  He looked her in the eye, then nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw there. "Good for you. But I feel responsible for my guests. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you while you were here helping us."

  "Please don't give it another thought. I'm fine." She smiled.

  "Now I have a good story to tell when I get back."

  "I just hope that's the only story of that kind you have to tell," he said, fingering the edge of the light blanket that covered him. "I haven't had much chance to catch any news, but Betty said things have settled down some in the city."

  Valerie nodded. "That's what I heard, too...when Madame Duval was here yesterday."

  Pastor Phil looked into her eyes again, his gaze piercing, but the gentleness and sincerity in his expression clear. "We're very grateful you came, Valerie. You've been a great help to us. If Betty had her way, we'd keep you here as long as we could get away with it." He chuckled softly.

  Before Valerie could stutter a reply, Betty appeared in the doorway. "I have tea ready, Valerie. Phil, are you sure you don't want anything?"

  "I'm fine. You ladies go have your tea."

  Valerie rose and reached out to touch Pastor Phil's hand.

  "You hurry up and get better. I'll be praying for you."

  "Thank you. Please do pray for me. I..." He thumped his chest. "This old heart could use all the prayers it can get."

  Valerie followed Betty back to the kitchenette, but the older woman's expression was grim.

  "Is everything okay?"

  Betty Greene sat down and shook her head slowly. "My husband is the prayingest man I know, but it's not like him to allow that he could use prayers for his health. I don't like this one bit."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brizjanti, Haiti, January 21

  "Please, Madame Duval, I'm begging you." Samantha Courtney sat on the
other side of Marie Duval's desk using every ounce of self-restraint she possessed to keep from dropping to her knees in supplication.

  "Samantha, you know we are full to capacity. Beyond full." The older woman's voice was compassionate, but stern.

  "There simply is no place to put another one."

  "What about Josh's room?" She flushed. "Dr. Jordan's room, I mean. He'll be leaving soon and--"

  But Madame Duval was already wagging her head. The black springs of hair on her scalp swayed in agreement. "If we have no place to house the missionaries and doctors who come to help, then we can't even care properly for the children we have."

  "He could have my room." It was a last, desperate bid. She was already crammed into a space in the girls' dorm not much bigger than the walk-in closet of the Minnesota farmhouse she'd grown up in.

  Madame Duval rested her elbows on the desk and steepled slender mahogany fingers. "I'm sorry, Samantha. We can't save them all, child."

  The compassion in Madame Duval's eyes made Samantha sorry she'd forced the woman to deny her request.

  But she had to try. "He's special. He just is. I don't know how to explain it." Her voice broke and she pushed away the image of the little boy she'd befriended outside the gates of the orphanage.

  Sporting the orange-tinged hair that signaled acute malnutrition, and severely disfigured with a gaping cleft lip, he couldn't even smile his thanks for the hunk of bread she snuck him whenever she could. But he had a spark in his eyes that spoke more than any smile. The child had completely captured her heart.

  She'd inquired of some of the villagers who lived nearby and discovered that the little boy had no family. He slept wherever he could lay his head and begged for every scrap of food he ate. Though it was hard to judge, Samantha estimated he was no more than five or six. It broke her heart that one so small could be among Haiti's multitude of street children. She could only guess at the cruelty he endured from the other children.

  She'd spoken with Father Barker at St. Nicola House on the other side of Brizjanti. St. Nicola, too, had every bed filled. She planned to approach the Greenes at Hope House, as well, but she knew they'd have the same response as Madame Duval. There wasn't room in Brizjanti's orphanages for another healthy child, let alone one with such severe medical needs.