They stood staring at her with puzzled, half-amused expressions on their faces.
She turned to Henri. "Could you make them understand?" she pleaded.
"Ah," he grunted, "the bouay, they know quite well what you say--" he effected a scowl and pointed to his forehead "--by your face." He turned his glare on the children and spoke sternly and rapidly in Creole. Immediately, the boys went to work stacking the boxes in a neat pyramid in the wheelbarrow's bed.
"Souple! Kouri. Hurry up!" Valerie begged. "Miss Samantha is waiting."
They took off for the cottage, boxes bouncing as the wobbly wheels of the barrow rolled across the rutted yard.
"Kouri! Be careful!" she called after them, then turned to the watchman. "Thank you, Henri."
He laughed and pointed after the boys. "You must run. They be there before you be there."
She took off at a sprint, waving as she passed the wheelbarrow with its entourage of sweaty boys, and shouting up a prayer of thanks that the supplies had arrived safely. She could hardly wait to give Betty and Samantha the news.
Two hours later, Philip Greene was resting much more comfortably, the soft whirr of the portable oxygen concentrator mirroring his slow, even breaths. Valerie checked the levels on the machine's indicator. Samantha had given her and Betty a crash course in administering the oxygen, and after starting Pastor Phil's medications, the nurse had gone back to Madame Duval's to shower and rest for a few hours.
Betty, too, had gone to lie down on the sofa, seeming much relieved.
Valerie slumped into the hard chair beside Pastor Phil's bed. Her adrenaline had been pumping at full tilt for so many hours she wasn't sure she could get it to shut down. She closed her eyes and matched her breathing to the slow rhythm of the oxygen machine. She felt herself begin to relax, then felt the sudden need to pray.
"Oh, thank you, Father, for answering our prayers so graciously. Thank you that everything got here on time and that everything worked. That the electricity was on and--" Tears of profound gratitude welled behind her closed eyes as she realized how many things had to come together for the outcome they'd experienced.
She opened her eyes and looked at Pastor Phil asleep in the bed. She thought his color had improved even more since Samantha had left.
She couldn't wait to call Max and thank him for his generosity. The man had moved heaven and earth--almost literally--to accomplish what he had for Philip Greene's sake. She felt for her cell phone in her pocket. She'd tried several times to reach him before the shipment arrived, and then they were so busy getting everything unpacked and set up that she hadn't had a chance to call. But she was eager to let him know what a role he'd played in it all.
She tiptoed from the bedroom. Betty was snoring softly on the sofa, the oscillating fan distributing a cool breeze over the room.
Valerie stepped outside the door into the shade of the overhanging roof. She searched the keypad until Max's number appeared. The phone rang on the other end. Once, twice...
"Hello? Max Jordan here."
"Max! Hi...It's me."
"Valerie! I'm glad you got through. How are things going?"
"Oh, Max, thank you! The truck got here just before lunch. You sent so much stuff! We haven't even unpacked everything yet. But Samantha was thrilled. And, oh! I wish you could see Pastor Phil. He's doing amazingly better already."
"Yes, Samantha told me. I'm so glad it's all working out--"
"Samantha told you? She called you?" Valerie had no right to be so disappointed at this news. Yet she was. She had looked forward to giving Max the good news. But she was being foolish. Why wouldn't Samantha call to let him know and to thank him? After all, Pastor Phil was Samantha's patient. And Max had very possibly saved his life. Samantha had every right to call him. She would have done the same had their roles been reversed. Grow up, Valerie Austin, she chided herself.
Max cleared his throat. "Samantha said the oxygen worked wonders. I'm glad. I had a feeling it would."
She relaxed and began to simply enjoy the sound of his voice.
"So how are you holding up? I imagine it's been a pretty hairy couple of days?"
She muffled a sigh. "It's been scary. I...I really thought we might lose him. I--" Hot tears took her by surprise. She gulped them back and forced her voice to steady. "I don't ever want to go through that again. I know now beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was not cut out to be a nurse."
"Samantha said you were a trouper. She couldn't have done it without you, I believe were her words."
Valerie was flattered, but she couldn't take the credit. "I was on automatic pilot, I think. I just did what Betty and Samantha told me." She gave a nervous laugh.
"Well, it's all over. Maybe you can get some rest now."
"That sounds good," she admitted. "I don't think any of us--Henri included--have laid our heads on our own pillows for the last fifty hours. But then from the looks of that treasure trove you sent us, I doubt you have either."
He gave a self-conscious laugh. "It's not a big deal, Valerie, really."
"Yeah, well, you'll never convince Pastor and Madame Phil of that. Or me..." Though she was alone, she felt her cheeks flush with warmth.
"Well, hey, I'd better go," Max said. "You get some sleep."
"It's my watch right now, but don't worry, I will. And thank you again, Max." She'd come to dread goodbyes with this man. "It's good to hear your voice," she risked.
"Yours, too, Valerie. Goodbye now."
"Bye."
Reluctantly, she disconnected, and went back inside, feeling a little deflated. The cottage was quiet and relatively cool. Pastor Phil was still sleeping. She checked the oxygen levels again before going out to the kitchen for something to drink.
She was draining the last sip from a glass of sweet tea when Samantha walked in the door looking fresh-faced and pretty in a crisp white blouse and cotton skirt, her hair still damp.
"Hey, what are you doing back already?"
Samantha shrugged. "I had a shower and I feel pretty good now. I thought you could use a break."
"Samantha, you didn't need to do that. You haven't had more than a couple of hours of sleep in the last two days."
"Neither have you. But I don't want to argue about it. Why don't you get out of here for a while? Get some fresh air. Oh, and Henri wanted to talk to you. He's down at the gatehouse."
"Henri? Did he say what he wants?"
Again, Samantha merely shrugged in response, turning away to rummage in the small refrigerator. Valerie gave Samantha an update on their patient while she rinsed her glass in the sink.
She stepped out into the oppressive heat, shading her eyes against the afternoon glare. Oh for winter's eighty-five-degree days again. Smiling, she made a mental note to remember to write that in her next e-mail to Beth. It would make her sister smile. Oh, these last days had been incredible. She had so much to tell.
She rounded the bend in the path and saw Henri standing in front of the gatehouse. He was talking to another man--a white man--who had his back to Valerie. Henri didn't look worried. In fact, he was laughing and joking with the guy, as though they knew each other.
She slowed her steps. She didn't want to intrude, but Samantha had said Henri wanted to see her.
While she tried to decide whether to interrupt, Henri looked up and spotted her. "Ah, there is Miss Valerie now."
The man turned to face her. The sun in her eyes obscured his features, but a peculiar feeling roiled in the pit of her stomach as she watched him scuff the dirt with the toe of his shoe.
Slowly, she walked closer. Shielding her eyes, she studied the man's tall form silhouetted in the bright sunlight. His stance made her think of Max Jordan. But...it couldn't be. She'd just talked to Max in Chicago.
"Valerie!"
Her heart thudded to a halt. She would know that voice anywhere.
"Max?" It took supreme effort not to literally jump for joy.
"But...what--? How did you--?"
&nbs
p; He laughed at her sputtering. "Didn't you think we had an awfully clear connection on the phone a while ago?"
"You were here then?" What a stupid question.
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "I was at Duval's."
The pieces began to fall into place. Of course. And that's why he'd already talked to Samantha. She thought about Samantha's sly mention that "Henri" wanted to speak with her. Slowly, the truth became obvious.
Max held out his arms and she walked into them. "I can't believe you're here," she said. She pulled away. "Oh, and I'm a mess." She put a hand to her hair. "I haven't had time to do more than run a brush through my hair and--"
"You look wonderful, Valerie."
The gleam in his eyes made her believe he meant it.
Henri picked up a rake that was leaning against the shed.
"Well, I best be back to work. Good to see you, Dr. Jordan."
"You, too, Henri."
The watchman went off whistling, leaving Max and Valerie standing in the path.
"How did you get here?" she asked, still pinching herself that he was actually standing here in front of her.
"It seems the quickest way to get something to Brizjanti is to bring it yourself." He smiled smugly.
"But...the truck? You were on it?"
He shook his head. "There wasn't room for me and all the boxes, too. I sent the driver on and caught the next tap-tap coming this way. You should have seen the route we had to take to get here. Too bad they can't save some of this rain for the winter."
An awkward silence fell between them.
"So...how long are you here for?" She held her breath, certain he would tell her he was flying back tonight.
He didn't answer, but studied Valerie for a minute. "It's really good to see you. Really good."
There was something in his smile she didn't dare interpret.
Chapter Forty-One
Max looked at the ground for a minute before meeting her eyes again. "How would you feel if I told you I'd bought a one-way ticket to Haiti?"
Valerie stared at him. "I don't...understand. What do you mean?" She didn't dare to let her imagination take her where it wanted to.
"Do you have time to walk with me back to Duval's?"
She nodded, hope swelling within her, making her buoyant.
Max shouted for Henri to lock the gate behind them, and they started up the rutted road. They walked in silence for a minute. It felt sweetly familiar to be here with him again, even though the scorching sun told her it was four o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the cool dawn of their early-morning walks.
"I want to tell you about what's happening in my life right now, Valerie. But first, I need to explain that..." He seemed to struggle for the words. "This has nothing to do with you," he finally said. "This is my deal and I don't want you to feel burdened by it."
She turned to him, wrinkling her brow in bewilderment.
He gave her a smile laced with apology. "Let me try to explain. I'll have to go back to Chicago...eventually, because I'm tied there by too many ropes that still need to be severed. But I've felt drawn back here ever since I said goodbye to you that night in Chicago."
He took in her raised eyebrows and held up a hand. "I know, I know...I said it had nothing to do with you. And really, it doesn't. Or maybe it does." He threw up his hands and huffed out a breath of air. "I'm not making any sense at all, am I?"
She strained to smile, unsure how to answer. He wasn't making sense. She didn't know what he was trying to say and the wild guesses skittering about her brain confused her more.
"I've been taking stock of my life since I got back, and I don't like what I see. I made a commitment to the Lord, and I've asked Him to guide my life. I truly want that, but somehow my life is still all tied up in money. All the things I thought would bring me freedom and happiness have completely imprisoned me and made me miserable." He turned to look at her, as if to gauge how she was receiving his words.
With effort, she gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
"Valerie, when I came here last January, I had everything a man could possibly want back in Chicago. But my life there felt completely empty. In Brizjanti, I had almost nothing, and I felt full to overflowing."
Their eyes met and she offered a sympathetic smile.
"I make a fortune at what I do," he went on. "But suddenly I not only find no joy in my work, but it seems worse than useless. I look at the children over here who have such incredible needs--Rocky and Samantha's little Birdy. So many of them. I have the skills to help kids like that, Valerie." His voice rose an octave, then plummeted with his next words. "And instead I'm spending my time and my education and my energy making beautiful, vain, selfish women more so! It seems--just wrong somehow. And then...oh, then, I think of Josh." He paused, obviously struggling to contain his emotions.
Valerie walked in silence beside him, praying without words, a peculiar excitement growing inside her.
Max turned to meet her gaze. "How could I have been so blind as to think Joshua was the one wasting his talent? I don't know...I do not know." He spat out the words one by one, his shoulders hunched with the effort. "It tears me apart."
"Oh, Max..." She had no other words to offer.
But he didn't seem to notice. "I've lost my chance to ever have a relationship with my son. But...I think I have something to give to the children Josh loved. The kids here--in Brizjanti. I...I don't know if that's a right reason to give up everything I've worked so hard for. I can't truly say that I've heard God's calling to make such a drastic change in my life. All I know is I can't go on as I have been. I can't, Valerie."
She took a deep breath and held it, not willing to pierce the holy silence that surrounded them. Finally she felt released to speak. "Max, have you ever considered that God is speaking, guiding you through your dissatisfaction, through your disillusionment with your present circumstances?" She shrugged. "I don't know the secret to knowing God's will. But I think sometimes, all we can do is take the next step and trust that He'll turn us around if it's wrong."
He seemed to consider her words. "I have a long way to go, so much to learn about God, about this faith that has turned my life upside down. I don't want to move too fast, but...I realized something when you called the other night, Valerie. What I lack in so many areas, I make up for in...well, in my bank account." He gave her a sheepish smile.
A rattletrap pickup trundled by and Max stopped and gently pushed her to the edge of the ditch, shielding her until it passed. The Haitian laborers perched on the tailgate hooted and whistled as they went by.
She ignored them and trained her ear on the words Max shouted over the commotion.
"It cost a small fortune to fly over here and bring that equipment--I'm not bragging but--" The noise of the truck drowned out his words, but she could have heard the laughter in his voice over a hurricane.
The splatter of mud and dust the truck had kicked up settled and the road was quiet again.
He gave her that grin she'd dreamed of so often. "Okay, maybe I am bragging. But getting that stuff over here was something I could do that not many other people could have. I've wasted a lot of the gifts God gave me. Destroyed some of them..." He swallowed hard. "But God has blessed me financially. Tremendously. Oh, Valerie, I have a whole notebook of ideas and the backing to carry them out. A hospital for Brizjanti, new dormitories for Madame Duval's, a guesthouse between the two orphanages where visiting doctors could stay, a teaching hospital where the children could train to be doctors and nurses..." His words tumbled one over another, but he waved them away as if they were pesky flies. "It's too soon to talk about all that...I have to find out first if this is even where I'm supposed to be. Where God wants me."
Valerie forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. Everything in her wanted to fall into Max's arms and beg him to stay. Beg God for Max's dreams to be His. But she'd done that before. With Will. With her longing for children. This time, she would wait. She'd be p
raying her heart out the whole time, but she would wait.
They came to Madame Duval's and stood outside the gate. A gentle zephyr blew off the bay and the temperature dropped a few degrees as the sun made its descent.
Max held out a hand as if to catch the breeze. "That feels good," he said.
"It does." She turned her face to the west.
"And you know," he said, grinning, "I don't even care if it smells like a sewer."
She giggled. "That's good. If...if you're going to come here and...do all those things."
"Valerie, what I was trying to say is...I don't want you to think I came here--for you...for us. I won't be that presumptuous. If you never want to see me, I understand. I can stay away from Hope House--" His eyes were trained on her, but they were glazed with frustration and he shook his head.
"Boy...this isn't coming out like I wanted it to."
She thought she understood now. "How about we leave that part in God's hands, too?"
He nodded, relief plain on his face.
She smiled and reached for his hand. "But, hey...let's not be too close-minded about it either."
His laughter sailed on the wind.
Valerie joined in, breathing a silent prayer over their future. And it occurred to her that answers to prayers were even sweeter when you'd been waiting for them your whole life.
Epilogue
Brizjanti, Haiti, April 11
The staccato of workmen's hammers punctuated the warm April air. Behind the whitewashed buildings that made up the Hope House compound, a tall iron skeleton rose into the cerulean Haitian sky. Hopital d'Espoir. Hope Hospital.
Valerie hurried along the dusty path the workmen had worn between the main road and the construction site. The heavy water jug she carried tugged at her shoulder, cold water sloshing as she navigated the bumpy trail. Her offering would be welcome on this warm afternoon.
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