Building on Love

by Kat Bellemore

  Five more cockroaches ran from their hiding place, attempting to escape the light. More shrieks erupted from the tent, and the married couple, who had just joined Kara at the card table, leaped from their chairs and flew back to the bunk they’d just left.

  Will, the other twin, snatched the broom from where Chloe had leaned it against the tent, and swept the cockroaches out. After securing the door, he and Randy fist bumped, then joined their mom at the table. Their dad, Rick, sat on his bed, reading, merely throwing his boys an amused smile before returning to his book.

  Chloe joined them at the card table. “I’ll play a round.” She glanced at the couple, who hadn’t yet descended from the bed. “You in?”

  They shared a glance, and then the wife pretended to stifle a yawn. “It’s been a long day. We should probably get some rest.”

  “No problem,” Chloe said, turning back to Kara, who was giving her a knowing smile. They wouldn’t make a big deal out of it because it wasn’t an easy thing, leaving everyone you knew, giving up modern conveniences, and living in a giant tent with twenty other people you’d just barely met.

  “You think we’ll be finishing the huts on time?” Kara asked as she dealt out the hand.

  Chloe wished she could say yes, but they had just lost three volunteers and gained five brand new ones. Things went slower when she needed to split her attention between work and training. Most people who joined their small group didn’t have experience with construction. Kara and her family were the exception.

  “Maybe,” she hedged. They needed to finish twelve huts and hadn’t even started on another five. Hey, it could happen.

  But Kara knew better and smirked. “That’s a no.” She hesitated. “I only ask because I talked to my son a few days ago—you know, the one who took over the hardware store.” Chloe nodded. “Well, it’s been a couple of years since we’ve seen him, and he said he’s finally going to be able to come out and see us. I told him he should wait until April. I’d like for him to be here for Songkran, but I wasn’t sure if we’d still be here or will have moved on by the time he arrives.”

  Oh. Even with April being a few months away, it wasn’t the best time to lose another four of her best volunteers. That would be right before their deadline—she’d promised the villagers they’d finish before the Thai New Year, Songkran.

  Kara and her family had worked hard, though, and deserved a vacation. To travel the country and eat food that didn’t come shrink-wrapped. Travis would of course need to drive them to the airport, which would mean she’d lose her right-hand man for the day, but there wasn’t any getting around it. At least then he could pick up fresh meat and fruit at the market while he was there. It was two hours away, so he normally only made it there a couple of times a month.

  Chloe didn’t want Kara to feel bad about taking time off to see her son, so she tried to sound upbeat as she said, “I think we’ll probably still be here. Are you going to visit Pukket or stay more north? Bangkok is worth a visit, but Chiang Rai is my favorite, if you want a less touristy experience.”

  Kara raised an eyebrow. “We’re not leaving you.”

  “You aren’t?” Was it that obvious that Chloe had been inwardly freaking out? “We’d be okay—”

  Kara was already shaking her head. “You need us. And not only that, my son wants to help. He’s not the touristy kind of guy and wouldn’t be happy if we dragged him all over the country. That would be torture for him.”

  Randy and Will laughed, nodding in agreement.

  “He’d rather swim back home than deal with tourists. We get enough of those in Starlight Ridge,” Will said.

  Randy waved his cards in the air. “Are we going to play or what?”

  Not only was Chloe not losing Kara and her family for two weeks, she would be gaining another experienced volunteer. This meant there was hope they’d finish on time.

  “I can’t say I’m not relieved,” Chloe said, picking a card from the deck and motioning for Will to take his turn. “We’re happy to have him as long as he wants to stay. Have him fly from Bangkok into Nan, and Travis can pick him up. Did you want to go with and meet him at the airport?”

  Kara fingered the edge of one of her cards, seeming to think about it. “I’m not sure,” she finally said. “I guess it depends on how things are going here in the village.”

  Chloe gave a slight nod, just grateful to have the help. She had started this service organization six years earlier, and it had grown to the point that she wondered if she should start hiring and expanding so they could help in multiple locations at once. She just couldn’t keep up with everything anymore, and Travis was the only one on her payroll.

  It was a small comfort that in four months she’d have an extra set of hands for a week or two, but at this point, she’d take anything she could get. And who knew, maybe by that point, her volunteers would have gotten over their fear of cockroaches.

  Maybe.

  3

  Davis stepped off the airplane, his head pounding. He now remembered why he didn’t travel. For the past three hours, he had been squished between a woman whose music was so loud that Davis could hear every word of the lyrics, despite both of them wearing headphones, and a man who didn’t have any trouble falling asleep in awkward positions but who did have a snoring problem. A very loud one.

  At least this place wasn’t as humid as Bangkok had been. He sucked in a lungful of air as his gaze swept over a small building in front of him. The signs were all in Thai, but everyone seemed to be walking in the same general direction, so he followed the other passengers to a large room where an empty conveyor belt spun. Davis sat on the edge of the machine to await his bag.

  “Davis Jones?”

  He turned toward the voice and saw a man approaching him. The stranger wore a baseball cap, a T-shirt, and jeans. He seemed to be made of nothing but muscle, his shirt stretching across his chest.

  “That’s me.”

  The man’s face split into a grin, and he held out a hand. “Travis Matkin. I work with Building for Hope. I’m your ride.”

  Davis took the man’s hand. It was like gripping a piece of steel. “I was expecting my parents to pick me up.”

  “I know. We were experiencing some interference with the satellite phone and couldn’t get ahold of you before you left. Your parents thought it best if they stayed to work in the village. They’re invaluable, you know. Don’t know what we’ll do when your family eventually decides to move on to other things.”

  That sounded like his folks, always choosing the needs of someone else over their own. Davis wasn’t offended. They’d chosen right.

  “I look forward to seeing what you do. My parents speak highly of your organization.”

  Travis gave a curt nod. “I’ve been with Building for Hope since the beginning. It wouldn’t be anything without our director. She’s the backbone to what we do.”

  The first suitcase slid onto the conveyor belt. A pink hard-shell with a Hello Kitty sticker. Not his.

  “Your director is a woman?” Davis didn’t know why it surprised him. His own mother knew how to work the tools in their store just as well as anyone. When his parents had run the place, his mom had been just as likely to be called out on a maintenance job as his father.

  “Yeah, Chloe Rodgers. She’s not only the director, she founded Building for Hope. Don’t underestimate her. She can outdo you any day of the week.”

  Davis imagined Chloe as a female version of Travis—thick, muscled arms, and challenging him to an arm-wrestling contest. That was all right by him, as long as she could get the job done. And it sounded like she could.

  He spotted his duffel bag, and he grabbed it off the conveyor belt. “I’m looking forward to working with her and the team. It’s been a long time since I’ve built things that matter.” He hurriedly added, “Not that my town isn’t important. But replacing a few hinges doesn’t exactly change the world.”

  “I’m sure it means something to the person who need
ed them, though,” Travis said, nodding toward the front doors as he motioned for Davis to follow him.

  Davis’s heart sank just a little as guilt settled in. He didn’t allow it to stay, though. He had just flown halfway across the world to help people less fortunate than himself. Had there been some selfish motives? If wanting to escape town while seeing his family and helping someone else was selfish, he supposed there had been. But there were worse things.

  He lifted his duffel bag by the strap and slung it over one shoulder, then followed Travis outside. There was only one vehicle that could be for them. A muddied Jeep sat in front of the airport, dents littering the sides. Even though it looked like it had seen better days, he could tell it could hold up to anything. It made Davis wonder why such a durable vehicle was needed.

  “Just throw your bag in the back,” Travis said, opening his door and jumping into his seat. “Sorry about the mess.”

  Davis moved to toss his bag in but hesitated. Where was he going to put it? Travis hadn’t been kidding about the mess. The back seat was filled with a dozen bags of fresh fruits, vegetables, and meats. “I’ll…just hold it on my lap.” He opened the passenger door but saw his own seat was also piled with food. Travis was trying to clear the space for him, adding the food to the collection in the back.

  “Hungry?” Davis asked with a small smile as he maneuvered his way into the Jeep, careful to not step on a large bag sitting on the floor. It was filled with a round, purple fruit that he didn’t recognize.

  “It’s not for me.”

  Davis smirked as he noted the fruit peels littered around Travis’s seat.

  “It’s not all for me,” he amended. “Most of it’s for the villagers. Before their homes burned, they harvested food from the trees, grew their own crops, and raised their own animals. They lived off the land and had everything they needed. They would sell the excess here in town.” Travis threw the drying peels behind the seat and onto the floor. “In Northern Thailand, there are always forest fires during the dry season, but with climate change, it’s getting worse each year. For this village, the fire took everything.” Travis shut the door. “The villagers are leery of outsiders, but Chloe has a way with people, and she earned their trust.”

  Davis couldn’t imagine living like that. “Why do the villagers do it?” He settled into his seat and glanced at Travis. “Why do things the hard way?”

  Travis sucked in a deep breath, suddenly not seeming the tough guy that he had originally appeared to be. “Because they don’t know any other way.” He paused. “They don’t want to know any other way. Their ancestors lived off the land, supporting themselves and each other. They have their own language, their own culture. And to do things any different is unimaginable.”

  “And yet…you are there. Supporting them.”

  Travis started the engine, then nodded to Davis’s seatbelt. “You’re going to want that.”

  Davis drew the strap across his chest. It took a couple of tries to get it to click, evidence of the wear and tear the Jeep had gone through over the years. The Jeep lurched forward just as the seatbelt connected, and Davis held onto the door as they peeled away from the airport. Thank goodness for Travis’s warning, otherwise Davis’s face would have already made contact with the windshield.

  As if there hadn’t been a lull in the conversation, Travis said, “Everyone needs help sometimes. Even an entire village. They don’t like to admit it, of course, and they’ve been working even harder than we have to rebuild. There isn’t anything wrong with wanting to do things on your own—to be alone. But the things the village needs to do in the amount of time they have to do them—it’s just not possible. They need food. They need water. Shelter. The village is learning that complete solitude isn’t always the answer.”

  The exact reason Davis had come to Thailand in the first place. To get away from people. Spend time with his family in the middle of nowhere. It sounded like an indigenous village was exactly where he needed to be.

  Davis didn’t respond, not knowing how, and silence fell over them as Travis turned onto a side road that was barely wider than the Jeep. There was no need to make small talk as they bounced along the road that barely seemed drivable at times. The noise was so loud, it would have drowned out anything they would have said. It didn’t help that Davis’s motion sickness was rearing its ugly head.

  He stared out the window, taking deep breaths, trying to keep the nausea at bay. “Can I open the window?” he dared to yell above the noise. Maybe some fresh air would help.

  “Sorry,” Travis yelled back. “You do not want to become friends with the type of insects that would attach themselves to you, if given access.”

  Davis wondered which would be worse at this point. He thought it might be worth the risk.

  Two hours felt like six, but they eventually broke through a clearing, and the Jeep slowed. A few thatched huts came into view, with an additional one appearing only halfway finished. They were on stilts, raised a few feet above the ground.

  “When we’re done here, we should have about thirty or so of these huts,” Travis said.

  Davis’s gaze swept across the clearing. It landed on a couple of young children playing in a hut that didn’t yet have a roof. “What about a school?”

  Travis pulled up to a long tent that looked like it could probably house fifty people. It too was raised above the ground. “They’ll be taught at home.” He got out of the Jeep. “I’ll take the four-wheeler and see if I can find your parents. Should be working on installing a roof at the far end.”

  Not waiting for a response, Travis left Davis fumbling with his seatbelt. It took a couple of tries, but he eventually stumbled out of the vehicle. The first thing he noticed was that Travis was right about the insects.

  They were relentless, buzzing around his head, seemingly impervious to Davis’s attempts to swat them away. Davis grabbed his bag from the back and dove into the side pocket, where he’d stowed the insect repellent. After dousing himself, he slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to face the village that was beginning to take form.

  Thirty huts. From the looks of it, they were nearly there. The huts weren’t clustered in one area but instead spread out throughout the clearing and beyond. Trees had been felled to make room for some of them. Davis noticed Thai villagers standing on the side of a nearby hill, tilling the ground by hand. They wore hats and long-sleeve shirts and pants, despite the warmth of the day. It looked like rough work.

  Davis’s gaze swung across the clearing and settled on several huts where the volunteers were working, all seemingly with a distinct job. Some were carrying large palms, like the ones on the roofs of the huts. Others were hammering down stalks of some kind. This was not your typical construction site. He’d done his research about Thai construction before coming and had thought that helping build homes would be his comfort zone, even if he was thousands of miles away from home.

  Davis had been wrong.

  Everything suddenly felt like it had gone into surround sound, a cacophony of noises competing with each other. The buzz of insects jostled with the pounding of the stalks, which in turn tried to drown out people talking, half-yelling, trying to be heard over everything else.

  He felt lightheaded, the nausea from the Jeep ride returning. Davis dropped his bag and covered his ears with his hands. Where were his headphones? In his bag somewhere. But he couldn’t search for them while covering his ears. He stumbled forward and up the steps that led into the large tent. Once Davis was inside, it wasn’t much better, but it was something.

  Rows of bunk beds stretched in front of him, and he sank onto the one nearest him, still cradling his head in his hands.

  What had he been thinking, coming here?

  New sounds now. Footsteps—someone approaching.

  “You okay?” A woman.

  Davis slowly let his hands drop, and heat spread across his cheeks. He’d thought he was alone. His gaze remained on the floor as he focused on his breaths.
“Yeah, of course.” His voice shook, belying the words.

  “You look like you could use some water.”

  Davis heard the footsteps retreat. They returned moments later.

  “Here, drink this.”

  His gaze lifted until it rested on an attractive woman who held out a plastic water bottle, a straw sticking out of the top. Davis straightened as he moved to take it, but the top bunk was lower than he’d realized, and he whacked his head against the metal above him.

  “Oh, shoot. Let me help you.” The woman dropped the bottle of water, seeming unworried that it had spilled all over the floor. She was looking at him as if he were a charity case—like she was helping the less fortunate. But seeing as he was now doubled over in pain, spots flashing across his vision, he could see where she’d get that impression.

  “I always said bunk beds were a bad idea,” she said as she helped Davis lie down. She grabbed the bottle from the floor. “I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

  Travis, of course, had to enter the tent at that moment, seeing Davis in all his glory. His eyes seemed to hold bewildered amusement, but also concern. “I was wondering where you’d run off to. Couldn’t wait for a little nap, huh?”

  In response, Davis’s nausea tightened its grip, and he rolled over just in time to puke over the side of the bed.

  “I’ll grab a bucket,” Travis said, simultaneously jumping away.

  “Do you think I should still give him this Tylenol?” the woman asked. It sounded like she was standing close. Davis hoped he hadn’t thrown up on her.

  “Maybe give it another few minutes, see if it’s all out of his system.” Travis set a bucket down next to the bed. “If there’s any more, you can use this instead of the floor, yeah?”

  Davis gave a weak nod.