“I wasn’t expecting it. The fans feel great.” He let go of his shirt and walked to the wall where trays, napkins, and utensils occupied a long metal table. “The kids eat all their meals here?”
“Yes,” she answered, glad to have a distraction from the smooth skin at the base of his throat. “The school-aged kids use it in the afternoons and evenings as a homework hangout, and we have meetings and game nights here when it’s too cold or windy to be in the gazebo.” She tried to envision the long tables and benches through the prince’s eyes. Would he be comfortable eating here for all his meals? Would he tire of the noise and chaos of several dozen children eating at once?
“It reminds me of boarding school, but better. Not so stiff.” His eyes sparkled as he turned to face her. “I bet they’re not forced to sit in assigned seats or wait for the headmaster to pick up his utensils before they can eat.”
She couldn’t imagine a young Alessandro sitting still, waiting for an adult to eat before he could pick up his own fork. “No, we’re definitely more laid-back than that. However, the kids clear their own trays, and we do stick to a daily schedule. It’s posted by the doors of the school, the dining hall, and the bunkhouses each morning.”
He turned to follow the direction of her gaze to the sheet posted beside the front door. “That’s it?”
“It keeps everyone on the same page. Literally, I suppose,” she added. “The kids do best when they know what to expect each day.”
She urged him to follow her to the kitchen, where she introduced him to the staff. All three women were locals, one of whom, a dark-haired woman in her early twenties named Pearl, handed Alessandro a cookie and gave him a bashful smile while Frannie showed him around.
Once they left the kitchen and headed toward the boys’ bunkhouse, Frannie explained, “You’d never know from her positive attitude, but Pearl’s husband was killed in the tsunami. She was a newlywed and devastated. Her sister and brother-in-law lost their home and business and ended up putting their kids here in the shelter while they work temporary jobs in Australia. Pearl lives in a tiny place and doesn’t have the resources to care for her niece and nephew, but working here gives her a modest income and allows her to keep her sister informed about the kids.”
Alessandro glanced over his shoulder toward the dining hall and kitchen. “Bet it makes all the difference in the world to the kids to have her here.”
Frannie smiled at that. “It does. Pearl’s wonderful.”
She opened the front door to the yellow bunkhouse. A long, cinder block building with high windows, it stayed cool thanks to its location under a stand of trees that had been transplanted following the tsunami.
“I see why you chose this building for a bunkhouse,” Alessandro said as he looked up and down the rows of bunk beds. “Lots of ceiling space for bunk beds without feeling claustrophobic.”
“It took a lot of work to make it habitable. Thanks to Jack Gladwell, we were able to salvage flooring from damaged homes and use it here. He also arranged to have the bunks shipped from Australia. As soon as the crates arrived at the dock and we assembled the beds, we filled them.”
“Where did the kids stay before that?”
“Outdoors. Tents. Whatever shelter wasn’t lost in the tsunami. The lucky ones were able to stay with relatives or friends on the other side of the island, which didn’t have as much damage. The churches all opened their doors, too. I first visited Kilakuru a week after the tsunami and was stunned by the conditions.” She thought back to that visit. What she’d witnessed changed her life. “I was impressed with the islanders’ resourcefulness and optimism. Would you believe that more than one person apologized to me for not being able to host me in their home? That’s how generous Kilakurans are.”
“You were working for Jack then?”
She nodded. “He’d just returned from a sailing trip through this area when the tsunami struck and he wanted to help. I headed the company’s charitable works division, so I offered to lead a team here to assess the situation.”
Alessandro ran a hand along the wooden frame of one of the bunk beds. “You ended up moving here permanently.”
“This place has that effect.” On the flight home, she’d struggled while writing her report to Jack, uncertain she could accurately convey the power of what she’d witnessed. She wasn’t sure she could convey it to Alessandro now. “A week after I returned to England, I went out to tea with a few girlfriends. It was a picture-perfect day in central London—sun shining, leaves falling from the trees in the park across the street, tourists smiling for photos—and as we sat around our table, all I could think about was the contrast between my life and what I’d seen during that assessment visit. I had a secure job working for an honorable man. A flat in a great neighborhood. Friends who’d meet me for drinks or go out to dinner whenever I wished. Good health. The love of my family. The survivors on Kilakuru had only each other, yet they’d apologized to me for their lack of hospitality. I couldn’t get this place—these wonderful people—out of my mind.”
“That’s when you decided to return?”
She nodded and leaned one hip against a bunk bed. “The next time I saw Jack, I told him that if the shelter I’d recommended in my report became a reality, I’d head it myself. He laughed and told me it was the oddest resignation he’d ever heard.” A grin leaped to her face at the memory. “I knew then he’d find the funds to support the shelter. I had the sensation I’d stepped off a cliff.”
His gaze narrowed. She felt he could see right through her. “It sounds like you wanted a challenge.”
“I don’t know about a challenge. Maybe what I wanted was meaning. A sense of belonging to something larger than myself.” She shrugged. To a prince who’d seen and done it all, the passion that brought her here likely sounded clichéd. “I had moments of doubt on the flight here, but once I stepped onto this property and started working, I knew I’d made the right decision. It’s more rewarding than anything I’ve ever done.” She straightened, realizing she needed to finish the tour before school ended for the day. “I hope you’ll come to feel the same way.”
“Time will tell, but I hope so, too.” The sincerity in Alessandro’s voice surprised her. Then his forehead puckered and he strode to the head of one of the beds and crouched to look at the lower bunk. “There’s a camel here.”
Frannie laughed at the familiar, long-lashed eyes staring at her. “That’s Humphrey. The rule is that he stays tucked into bed during school hours. Otherwise Remy—that’s the boy who sleeps here—would take him to class. He’s quite attached to Humphrey.”
“Humphrey? That’s a mouthful for a kid.”
“He wanted something with ‘hump,’ then realized the humor in Humphrey.” At Alessandro’s raised brow, she added, “It’s because he’s not hump free. His full name is Humphrey, the Ironically Named Camel.”
That elicited a burst of laughter from Alessandro. “That’s awful. How old is Remy?”
“Seven. Remy’s father ran a dive operation here on the island and one of his regular clients sent the camel from Dubai. It arrived the day after Remy’s teacher discussed the concept of irony. Remy was quite pleased with himself when he came up with the name.”
“Bright kid.”
“He is.”
Alessandro studied the camel, whose tawny nose and ears poked out from the bunk’s neatly arranged sheets. “I hate to ask, but what brought Remy to the shelter?”
“His mother died of a cerebral aneurysm when he was an infant, so it was just Remy and his father. His father was out to sea when the tsunami hit. He never returned.” Just thinking about all Remy had been through made her heart ache. “Remy’s the sweetest boy, but he’s had a rough time. He was at school when the tsunami warning came. The teachers evacuated the kids to a grocery store on higher ground. After the waves subsided, the kids in Remy’s class were picked up as their parents made their way to the store. Remy was the last one there. He stayed with one of his teachers fo
r a few days, then the Red Cross took care of him until we opened. His parents were originally from Marquesas Islands, so he doesn’t have any other family here on Kilakuru.”
“His family from the Marquesas didn’t come for him?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Not that she hadn’t tried. She’d finally located his mother’s family, but they were less than interested. “On the other hand, it’d be tough for him to make the transition to joining a family he doesn’t know at this point, and he knows that he’s loved and valued here.”
She showed Alessandro the adults’ rooms at the rear of the bunkhouse, then the restrooms and the solar showers that were located behind the bunkhouse. After that, they proceeded to the girls’ bunkhouse and the nurse’s station. Chloe gave Alessandro a quick overview of where to find emergency supplies in the event he needed to provide first aid. When Chloe finished, Frannie led the way to the nursery.
“Overwhelmed yet?” she asked.
“Fascinated.”
“Good.” If anything at the camp would overwhelm him, though, the nursery would be it. “What’s your experience with infants and toddlers?”
“I’ve made visits to orphanages and children’s hospitals on behalf of my family. Usually I play cards with the kids or tell stories, but that’s the extent of it,” Alessandro admitted. “I’ve never been responsible for any.”
She didn’t miss the hesitancy in his voice. Gently, she said, “You’ll learn fast if you end up helping in the nursery. Eight of our kids live here, all between the ages of two and five. They’re all wonderful, which makes caring for them a joy.” The scent of antibacterial hand gel tickled her nose when she opened the door and crossed the threshold. In the center of the tiled floor, a little girl with dark, glowing skin and a ribboned bun at the back of her head bounced on a green plastic worm with bright red wheels.
“Why, who’s on inchworm today?”
“Miss Fwannie! Miss Fwannie is he-yah!” the little girl yelled before stumbling off the worm and racing for Frannie. Frannie scooped the girl into the crook of her arm before turning to Alessandro.
“Hello there.” Enthusiasm and genuine warmth radiated from the prince as he wiggled his fingers at the toddler in greeting.
“Hi!” She giggled, then buried her face in Frannie’s shoulder.
“This is Juliette, but we call her Julie,” Frannie said. “Her mother works here in the nursery.”
“And tries to keep her out of trouble,” a voice said from the opposite side of the room.
Frannie looked over at Julie’s mother, Mira, who was crouched near the sink to wash a toddler’s face. The boy was the youngest of the group, having just turned two, and he squirmed under Mira’s washcloth.
“All going well today, Mira?”
“Organized chaos, as always. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Frannie introduced Alessandro to Mira, then to Tommy’s sister, Irene, who supervised a game of toddler Twister on a padded mat. Alessandro flashed an over-the-top look of mock horror at the group playing Twister, which sent them into a fit of laughter before they all tumbled to the ground.
“Mira and Irene alternate day shifts with two other women,” Frannie explained as the kids scrambled to start a new round. “You’ll meet them tomorrow. Irene and Tommy live in rooms behind the nursery and take turns covering the night shift.”
Frannie set down Julie, who ambled off to join a friend playing with the nursery’s doll house, then she showed Alessandro the small dining area and toddler sleeping rooms at the back of the nursery. “The little ones eat most of their meals here, since they’re on an earlier schedule than the school-aged children. Once they hit school age, they move up to the bunkhouse. In the meantime, the little ones join the older kids at the gazebo in the evenings and for special projects in the dining hall from time to time. The interaction is good for both groups. For instance, at Christmas we had a cookie decorating party. The kitchen staff had the older kids make the dough, then the younger kids cut out the shapes. The kids from the nursery school did the decorating.”
As they let themselves out of the nursery, the room behind them erupted in screeches, no doubt from the kids playing Twister. Alessandro glanced over his shoulder. “They love those kids.”
“The kids know it, too. Mira and the two women who are on duty tomorrow each worked at day care facilities on the island before the tsunami. I was lucky to get them. They’d likely make more money on one of the other islands, but they opted to stay here and—”
A loud bell kept her from finishing the thought. Alessandro turned in the direction of the sound. “Is that an alarm?”
“School’s out. Time for the onslaught.” A beat later, students began to pour out of the schoolhouse and a chorus of happy voices echoed across the courtyard. She cast a sideways look at Alessandro. “Think you can handle supervising homework time? That’s where I’ve been most desperate for a volunteer. I know it’s not what you’re used to—”
“Of course. It will give me a chance to get to know the children.”
“You’re not too tired from the flight?”
“I slept on the plane. I’m here to work, so I may as well get started.”
She exhaled. How he handled this afternoon would say a lot about how he’d adapt. “Then we’ll head to the dining hall, I’ll introduce you to the kids, and leave you to it.”
He shot a grin in the direction of the horde, but Frannie didn’t miss the doubt clouding his eyes.
“Hey, everyone!” she called over the din. Once faces turned her way, she waved her arm. “Come to the dining hall! There’s someone new for you to meet!”
She made a mental bet with herself. Five days. That’s how long he’d last. Not due to physical exhaustion—the man certainly had the physique to handle life at the shelter—but due to the mental load necessary to care for the residents. This wasn’t like a quick hospital visit, such as those he made for his family. Or even like a hiking trip to Nepal, where he was only responsible for himself. At the five day mark, he’d make an excuse. Say he was needed at home. Or that there were volunteers who’d do a better job with the kids.
As long as none of them got attached to the prince, it’d work out fine. In the meantime, she’d keep her distance so she didn’t get attached.
Chapter 6
Alessandro suspected his temple would hit the table hard enough to split the wood if he didn’t keep his head propped firmly on his fist. He’d never been so exhausted in his life, and that included the dissolute week he’d spent in Thailand with his college friends following their graduation. Or when he’d summited Kilimanjaro with a badly strained muscle and managed to hide it from reporters.
When Frannie said, “time for the onslaught” this afternoon, she’d meant it. Four dozen school-aged kids had descended on the dining hall in a riot of laughter, elbows, and backpacks. Once the kids had taken their seats, Frannie had stood near the doorway and introduced him to the group as Alessandro. She gave no indication of his royal status, but said that his family had contributed the money that helped build the Sunrise Shelter. After a big round of applause and effusive cheers, the kids queued up for snacks and settled at the long wooden tables to tackle their homework.
After an hour, they’d taken a scheduled break. Some played kickball in the center of the compound, others lounged in the bunkhouse, and one small group sat and chatted in the gazebo. Later, they’d returned to the dining hall to have dinner and wrap up homework before heading to the bunkhouse to shower, read, and prepare for bed.
He’d caught a few glimpses of Frannie while he’d umpired the kickball game. Once when she’d crossed the compound with Tommy, and a second time when she’d entered the nurse’s station with a clipboard in one hand and a box under her other arm. Then he’d spotted her at dinner, sitting with the youngest of the elementary school children. He had no idea what was said, but the giddy expression on Frannie’s face as a little girl stood and jumped in a circle in a strange imitation of a
rabbit made it hard for Alessandro to focus on the kids at his table. Frannie had disappeared after that; he had no idea whether he should find her or if she planned to come to the dining hall to find him. Either way, he needed a bed.
“The first day’s always the hardest,” Irene Solofa told him as she gathered a stack of papers at the end of the table Alessandro occupied. “I can’t believe you’re still awake. Tommy said you haven’t slept since you arrived.”
“Haven’t you noticed? I am asleep.”
His response garnered a snort of laughter from Irene. Though she spent most of her day in the nursery, Irene often helped during homework time. The two of them had kept the older kids on task, though Alessandro quickly realized he’d need to do some studying himself if he were to assist with schoolwork. It’d been ages since he’d cracked a book other than a thriller, and he’d been compelled to do a quick geometry textbook review in order to help one of the girls understand her assignment.
Picturing the girls working on their homework reminded him that he’d meant to ask Irene a question. “There was one girl at the end of the table in a pink dress who didn’t seem to talk to anyone. Who is she?”
“Long black braid, adorable cheeks?” At Alessandro’s nod, Irene said, “That’s Naomi Iakopo. She doesn’t speak.”
“Not at all?”
Irene shook her head. “Not since her parents left. They took her baby brother with them when they went to Papua New Guinea to find work. We thought they’d have returned by now, but her father’s had trouble getting a position. Naomi was a quiet girl anyway—at least according to her mother—but the separation has been difficult. She smiles and pays attention during social time and school, and her grades are top of the class, so we continue to treat her as if she’s part of the conversation and hope that someday she decides to speak.”
“I wondered.” The little girl seemed both part of the chaos in the dining hall, and yet separate from it. “Sounds like she might benefit from time with a counselor.”
The Wicked Prince Page 6