Over the Waters

by Deborah Raney

  She could tell he was enjoying the telling of his story.

  "I have never been so scared. For the first time in my life, I found myself wishing there was someone in the seat beside me to tell me what to do. But--I had that Bible you gave me in my briefcase under the seat in front of me. I remembered your famous, desperate 'flip' method and that's exactly what I did. I just flipped it open--" he pantomimed the movement with expressive hands "--as randomly as any book has ever been flipped."

  He peered up at her from beneath knitted brows and flashed a sheepish smile. "That's what I was looking for when I opened that Bible--a relationship with God." He shrugged. "I realize now that's what I've been looking for all my life. But the crazy, wonderful thing is..." He shook his head as if grasping the truth of what he was telling her all over again. "God met me in that instant."

  "Oh, Max..." Valerie's heart beat faster.

  "I landed in the book of Romans...chapter eight. Only I took your crazy method a step further. I didn't just start reading at the top of the page." He thumped his chest. "This highly educated, incredibly intelligent, rational physician closed his eyes and aimed his finger at the page like a dart."

  She laughed, leaning forward, hanging on every word.

  "My finger landed on the thirty-ninth verse." He scrubbed his face with his hands before looking her in the eye. "Do you know what that verse says, Valerie?"

  Not daring to breathe, she shook her head. "Tell me."

  He stared off someplace behind her quoting slowly, expressively from memory. "'Whether we are high above the sky or in the deepest ocean, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.'"

  She gave a little gasp and tears sprang instantly to her eyes. "Oh, Max..."

  He shook his head, his expression turning serious. "It was a stupid, desperate thing to do--opening the Bible at the eleventh hour when I'm just sure my plane is going down. And--obviously as it turns out--we made it down okay. Nobody was even seriously injured." He thought for a minute. "You know, I don't necessarily even believe that God miraculously spared me from a fatal crash."

  She furrowed her brow, not sure where he was going with that.

  "The point is he spared me from something equally fatal. He saved me, Valerie. In that very moment. From myself. From all my selfishness and greed...everything."

  Valerie's heart pounded, soared, took off. It had happened. Max had finally met the Savior face-to-face.

  He rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. "There are over thirty-one thousand verses in the Bible, Valerie. I looked it up. What do you think the chances are that I would randomly open to that one verse in that moment when I was literally high above the sky, and hanging over the ocean?"

  A bubble of joyous laughter climbed her throat and escaped. "Oh, Max. I'm so happy." Her tears took her by surprise and she swiped them away with the back of her hand.

  Max reached for her right hand, held it between both of his. When he finally spoke again, his voice was ever so wobbly. "Thank you." It was a whispered breath. "Thank you, Valerie, for not giving up on me. For not tiptoeing around me because I was a doctor, because I was more scientific, more intelligent, more--"

  "Hey! Wait just one minute..." She laughed through her tears, feigning indignation.

  He squeezed her hand and grinned. "That didn't come out quite right, did it?"

  "Oh, it came out perfect. Just perfect."

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Max watched Valerie, following her as she wove her way through the maze of tables to the front of the restaurant. In Brizjanti, as much as he'd been attracted to her wholesome good looks and her easygoing personality, there'd always been the niggling notion that she didn't belong in his world. With her cotton skirts and tennis shoes and hair pulled into a messy ponytail, she would have been as out of place in Chicago as a string of plastic pop beads in Tiffany's. Tonight, in a green silk suit and understated jewelry, her easy grace came off as elegance. With an upswept hairdo and wearing a touch of mascara and lipstick, she was turning heads.

  He found himself entertaining fantasies he had no business entertaining. He'd always despised men who went after women young enough to be their daughters. It seemed like such a desperate last grasp at youth. From things she'd said, he didn't think Valerie was quite that young, but she was probably at least a dozen years younger than he.

  The hostess nodded and thanked them for coming as they passed through the foyer. Max hurried ahead and opened the outer door for Valerie.

  A gust of cold wind whipped around them and Valerie wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "I really should have brought a coat," she said. She led the way across the parking lot at a brisk pace.

  Max caught up with her and casually put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the passenger side of the Maserati. The feel of her slender form so close filled him with longing. It was all he could do not to pull her to himself and kiss her.

  He let out a hot breath of relief when she slipped from beneath his arm and stood aside waiting for him to unlock her door.

  Valerie gasped as another icy gust swirled around them just as he opened the car door. She looked up at him, laughing at herself. Her laughter was musical, contagious. Their breaths formed misty clouds that mingled and hung in the air between them, catching the reflections of a thousand tiny lights twinkling in the trees overhead. There was something almost magical about the moment. He wished he could make time stand still.

  He shook off the enchantment with a decisive shudder. He closed Valerie's door and went around and slid behind the wheel.

  "I loved the restaurant," she said, as he backed out of the parking space. "Thank you, Max. It was an unforgettable evening."

  "And it's not over yet," he said. Even though the drive back to her sister's would take close to an hour, he wasn't willing for their time together to end. He glanced at his watch.

  "Would you like to go somewhere for coffee?"

  Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. But she nodded. "I'd like that. Maybe there's a place closer to Willowbrook though? I don't want to be too late getting back. Beth will worry."

  He wondered what her sister had told her about him, then felt like a schoolboy for wondering. "Sure. We'll head that way."

  When they got out of city traffic and back on the interstate, Valerie shifted in her seat and turned toward him as she had earlier. They made small talk between comfortable silences, capturing the easy way they'd found with each other in Brizjanti. He felt her eyes on him whenever he spoke, but instead of making him self-conscious, it made him feel as though every word he uttered was brilliant.

  What was wrong with him? He hadn't had this lovesick-puppy feeling about any woman since Janie. He wasn't even sure he'd ever felt this for her--even before they'd married. They'd been so young. And things had soured so quickly after Janie got pregnant and he'd had to lay out of college that semester. They'd never really recovered. It had gone downhill from there.

  He felt as though he were in a physical battle, beating down a voice that kept praising Valerie's qualities, kept whispering how nice it would be if she were in his life. It was a ridiculous fantasy. He'd had enough psychology in med school to guess that his juvenile infatuation with Valerie Austin was probably misplaced gratitude that she'd been instrumental in helping him find his way to God. He had to get his mind on something else. Had to quit thinking of her that way.

  The neon flash of a Starbucks sign caught his eye. He slowed the car. "Is Starbucks okay?"

  "Sure."

  He pulled into the shopping center and parked in front of the busy coffee shop. Inside, the booths were all occupied by couples who looked like they were there for the duration. A group of college girls had put three tables together and chattered noisily, but there was no queue at the counter.

  He ordered a decaf and a cappuccino for Valerie and they carried their drinks to a small round table near a window. She sipped her co
ffee and stared out the window to watch the traffic on the street.

  "You're awfully quiet all of a sudden," Max said, worried that he'd said something wrong.

  She gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, but didn't say anything.

  "Is everything okay?"

  "I just...have a lot on my mind."

  Max unfolded a paper napkin and placed it on his lap. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  She was silent for a minute, then shook her head. "Thank you, but I don't think so. Not yet."

  "Are you anxious to get back home?" He was grasping for something to talk about, feeling uncomfortable at her sudden reticence.

  "To Kansas City?"

  "Well, I meant back to your sister's, but--"

  She laughed nervously. "Oh, no. I'm sorry. I'm enjoying the coffee. I'm fine."

  "And Kansas City?"

  She took another sip of coffee. He got the feeling she was buying time. When she looked up, there was an odd glint in her eyes, as though she were testing him.

  "I'm not sure I'm going back to Kansas City, Max."

  "What?"

  "I mean, of course I'll have to go home and tie up some loose ends. But...I think God wants me to go back to Haiti."

  "What do you mean? For good?"

  "Maybe. I'm still sorting it out, but yes, probably for good."

  He felt his jaw drop, but he seemed powerless to close his mouth. "You're kidding," he said finally. He had a strange sense of deja vu. Valerie's words were too close to the ones Joshua had spoken three years ago when he'd called to break the news that he planned to remain in Brizjanti.

  Max had no claim on Valerie, and their friendship did not give him the right to offer his opinion. But he couldn't sit here and say nothing. "So, when did this all come about? How can you just up and leave--your job, your sister...?"

  "I...I'm not sure. I haven't thought all the details through yet."

  "Well, maybe you ought to do that before you go making rash decisions." He felt an old, familiar anger rising in him--a fury like that he'd felt when Josh had delivered his news. He hated the feeling. It brought back everything he'd spent the last year trying to forget. Everything he'd gone to Haiti to put to death once and for all. Everything he thought he'd surrendered on that airplane over the Atlantic. Why did she have to do this to him?

  He stopped and waited while a waitress wiped off the vacant table next to them.

  When the girl left, he looked up, waiting until Valerie met his eyes. "What is in Haiti for you anyway?" he asked. "Are you sure you're not just trying to avoid dealing with what's waiting back home?"

  She studied him, her eyebrows arched, as if the anger in his voice surprised her. She dipped her head, and he had the impression she was trying to decide whether or not he deserved a reply. He knew the answer to that. Of course he didn't. This was none of his business. Her decision had nothing whatsoever to do with Max Jordan. Why did that bother him so much?

  She finally looked up, eyeing him cautiously, then glancing around the coffee shop. "Could we take our coffee and go somewhere...somewhere where we can talk? Maybe just for a drive?"

  "Fine." He didn't trust himself to stay out of her business. She didn't deserve a lecture. It was her life. What did he care what she did with it? He pushed back his chair and led the way out the door.

  They were back on the freeway before Valerie spoke again. Now it was he who was surprised by the edge of anger in her voice.

  "You asked what is in Haiti for me," she said, her eyes narrowing. "I'll tell you, Max. All my life I've only ever wanted one thing. I want children. Sure, I'd love to be married, to be a wife. But if I'm honest, that's always been secondary to the kids. I think I proved that with Will..."

  "What do you mean?"

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry. You don't want to hear this whole sob story. Please...Just take me back to Beth's."

  He did want to hear it. Every word. He reached over and laid a gentle hand on her arm. The silk of her sleeve was soft beneath his fingers. He tried to make his voice match. "No. Please. I'm listening."

  She smiled briefly and tilted her head, studying him, as though trying to gauge his sincerity. Apparently she was satisfied with what she saw on his face.

  "Will didn't want kids. Ever. And I didn't love him enough for that to be okay. For a while, I thought I could change his mind, but he made it clear that wasn't going to happen."

  "Ah. So what now?"

  "I want to be a mommy, Max. I've wanted it since I was a little girl. Everything I've ever done in my life has just been a stepping-stone to that dream. I've watched my friends have babies in quick succession--and then spend the next years griping about how much trouble their kids were. It makes me furious. I used to think God was cruel, denying me the one simple thing I requested, and then giving it so easily to virtually every other woman I know."

  She stopped abruptly. Her shoulders rose with the deep intake of breath before she spoke again. "Something happened before I left Brizjanti...It was..." She shrugged and shook her head.

  "What? What is it, Valerie?"

  "I don't know if I can make it make sense for you."

  "Try me." The steam of his anger leached out as he heard the anguish behind her words.

  It was dark, but the irises of her hazel eyes caught a glint of light from somewhere. She held his gaze, unflinching. "God showed me something a few days before I left Haiti, Max. Something that made me realize He's been working in my life all along. I just didn't understand what He was doing--how He was working."

  She told him then what had happened...something about sewing some little shirts and dresses when she was a teenager...How, amazingly, they had shown up at Hope House while she was there. She'd looked around to see the children wearing them.

  He watched her face, slowly absorbing what the import of the incident had been for Valerie. Even with only the dim glow of the streetlamps lighting her face, Max could see the resolve there.

  And at that moment, he knew he had lost her as surely as he'd lost his son. He corrected his thoughts. He couldn't lose what he'd never owned. Only now did he see how deeply he longed for the privilege of being someone special to this woman. But it was too late. He'd lost his chance.

  "I've never felt more sure about anything in my life, Max."

  Her steady tone brought him back to the present. She gave a soft smile that caused a pang of lonesomeness to slice through him.

  "With every day I'm back here, I only feel more certain that Brizjanti is where God wants me. Where He's called me. The kids there--" her voice caught "--they are the children I've prayed for all my life, for as far back as I can remember. They are what I've dreamed of. I just never understood it before."

  He let out a deep breath, feeling all the elation of the evening seep out of him like air from a wilting balloon. "Valerie, if you'd told me this story a week ago, I would have said you'd lost your mind. I would have been angry. It...it's too much like Joshua." He reached across the seat for her hand. It felt like velvet against his fingertips. He turned to look at her before concentrating on the road again. "I have a different frame of reference now. I've seen--I've experienced firsthand--how God does guide us in amazing ways. I can't argue with that."

  He glanced over at her again and saw that there were tears on her cheeks.

  "Thank you, Max," she whispered.

  There were too many obstacles standing between them. It was impossible that they could ever overcome them. He knew that. Yet, now, sitting so near to her, her hand warm and soft in his, he wanted to believe that, together, they could conquer anything.

  The green LED readout on the dashboard flashed garishly as the clock clicked off a new minute. There wasn't enough time. And he was wasting the few moments they had left in futile hope. He forced himself to surrender his will. Nothing else should matter but the sweet friendship they'd shared. After all, because of her, the hope he'd found for his future was anything but futile.

  Tomorrow there would
be time to sorrow over what might have been between them. Tonight he would enjoy her presence, memorize her voice, her laughter. She'd given him so much in the short time God had allowed their friendship.

  He would always be grateful.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kansas City, Kansas, March 18

  Valerie's footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors as she took one last walk through the empty apartment. Finding everything in order, she shut the lid on the last carton and propped it on one hip. She stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. She'd expected to shed a few tears over leaving this place that had been her home for the past five and a half years. She had invested many an evening making her apartment cozy and welcoming, sewing curtains and slipcovers, and browsing the local antique shops and flea markets for what Will had dubbed "expensive junk." She saw now that he was right.

  Her car was already loaded down with some of the things she knew Beth coveted--their mother's wedding dishes and some of Valerie's antiques and jewelry. The rest of her belongings had either been sold at her garage sale last Saturday or distributed among friends--most of whom thought she was out of her mind.

  "At least put a few things in storage in case it doesn't work out," they'd told her. But none of it held any appeal to her anymore. As she'd marked her possessions with stickers for the sale, she marveled that she'd ever paid such exorbitant prices for some of her stuff. And marveled more that she'd invested so much energy in things. Cleaning things, fixing things, storing things, worrying about things.

  The one treasure she would take to Haiti with her was her sewing machine. She had cleaned out the bargain bins at her favorite fabric store yesterday, and now her sewing machine case was stuffed full of fabric and notions and spools of thread. She would carry the case on the plane with her and if they lost her luggage this time, she'd just sew herself a new skirt. The thought made her smile. And think of Max.