Over the Waters (24 page)

Brizjanti, Haiti, June 14

"
G
ade yon bel wob.
What a pretty dress, Jacquette." Valerie bent to speak to the little girl who stood in front of her in the dining room. The dark, cornrowed head was bent shyly, but two brown cheeks plumped in a smile. Valerie tried not to play favorites among the children, but Jacquette had had a special place in Valerie's heart since that day she'd shown up in the courtyard wearing the little lime-colored dress Valerie had sewn.

She turned her wrist over and peeked at her watch--for the tenth time this morning. It was past eleven-thirty. Max had said the medical supplies he'd sent for Pastor Phil would arrive before noon. She'd tried calling the airport to check on the flight, but could never get beyond the labyrinth of recordings.

She took Jacquette's hand and led her outside where the other children were playing after finishing Saturday-morning chores. Now the lawn was dotted with bright spots of color--girls skipping rope and playing
osle
in the courtyard, and boys in a rowdy game of soccer on the south lawn beyond.

Handing the little girl off to Jaelle, Valerie smiled. "You stay here with Jaelle, okay? I'm going to see Pastor Phil."

Jacquette beamed at the sound of the pastor's name. Philip Greene was a much-adored man, and the children had been praying faithfully for him every morning and every afternoon at chapel. Valerie didn't even want to think about the possibility of the medicine not arriving.

Please, Lord. Let that truck get through. Let those flights have been on time.
As she jogged to the Greenes' cottage, she whispered the words again in Creole for good measure.

Samantha and Betty were with Pastor Phil. His breathing was labored, the wheeze still evident. Maybe more pronounced than it had been this morning. She didn't like the worried look on Samantha's face.

"How is he?"

Samantha shrugged. "About the same. No truck yet?"

"Not yet. I'm going to walk down to the gate and see. Do either of you need anything? I'd be glad to run to Madame Duval's if you need anything from there, Samantha..."

She shrugged. "Thank you, but not right now. The only thing I'm interested in right now is for that medicine to get here!"

Valerie flashed a wry smile. "I'll see what I can do."

She stepped outside just in time to hear Henri's piercing whistle from the gatehouse. She hurried down the path and, rounding the corner a minute later, came in view of the gate. A battered flatbed truck loaded down with crates and boxes was pulling away from the front of the compound. In front of the shed, Henri stood guard over a small tower of boxes of various shapes and sizes. Hands on hips, he waited for the boys he'd summoned with his familiar whistle.

As the little boys gathered round, Valerie watched Henri direct them like an orchestra conductor. Two of them went to the shed to fetch a wheelbarrow. The others started picking up boxes.

There must have been a dozen packages. In spite of the heat, Valerie started running, a smile splitting her face. She was winded and dripping with perspiration by the time she got to the gate. "Is this the stuff Dr. Jordan sent?"

"Oui,"
Henri said, smiling as though he'd delivered it himself. "We bring it to Pastor Phil's cottage, no?"

"Yes. Thank you, Henri." She examined the stickers on the boxes and picked up a small one with a pharmaceutical label on it. "This might be what Samantha needs," she said. "I'll take it to her now. Henri, could you be sure the generator is ready to go...in case the electricity goes off this afternoon. Samantha is going to want to keep the oxygen machine going for Pastor Phil."

She inspected the warnings stamped on the largest box. Oxygen. Good. This must be the portable oxygen concentrator Max had said he'd try to send. It must have cost a fortune to get everything here almost overnight.

She stepped between two of the boys who were arguing over who got to push the cart. "Stop it, you two.
Pinga, pinga.
Be careful! This is
danje
...very dangerous." She tried to demonstrate the explosion that could result if the boys were careless.

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--?"

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.