Healing Love

by Jennifer Slattery

  An image flashed through his mind of Jesus Christ, arms stretched out, hands and feet nailed to the cross.

  He inhaled a shuddered breath. Reconciliation would be tough, but not as difficult as death on the cross.

  ***

  The van eased to a stop in the hotel parking lot. The asphalt glistened in the aftermath of the heavy storm, and large puddles filled deep potholes. Brooke’s hair draped her face in wet clumps and her dampened dress clung to her. Her weary muscles longed for a nice hot shower, clean sheets, and a fluffy pillow.

  “Thanks once again for the ride.” She gathered her things.

  He touched her arm. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”

  She stared at her backpack, filled with left-over VBS supplies, fresh water, granola bars, and scented lotion—items she once took for granted. “I can’t stop thinking about that girl. I know there are millions more like her, not just here in El Salvador, but all over the world.”

  “Even in the United States.”

  She nodded. “But seeing a homeless child face to face—”

  “If those girls were homeless. They may not have been.”

  “True.” Although homeless or not, their bony frames and threadbare clothes told of hardship, the kind Brooke had never witnessed before.

  “But I know what you’re saying. I’m glad she took the candy and drink you offered. We can only pray that God will provide more, somehow.”

  “I guess.” But why did God let children suffer in the first place?

  A tap sounded on her door and she jumped. Aubrey stood outside, her face pressed to the window, eyes crossed, her nose flattened against the glass.

  Brooke rolled her eyes and pushed open the door. “Amusing. And disgusting. Do you have any idea the kind of filth you just inhaled?”

  “You going to squirt me with that ginormous jug of hand sanitizer now?” Aubrey laughed and held out her hand. “Toss me the hotel keys, will you? Amanda’s about to wet her pants.”

  Ubaldo chuckled. “How do you say it? TMI?”

  Heat flushed Brooke’s face. “Lovely, Aubrey. Why not broadcast that one a little louder.”

  “Okay.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey everyone, Amanda’s got to—”

  “Shut up!” Amanda yelled from across the lot.

  Brooke unzipped her backpack and fished around for the hotel key, handed it over. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Aubrey bounded toward the room.

  Ubaldo laughed, his deep eyes and thick, dark lashes capturing Brooke. “So, tell me, were you ever that crazy?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, maybe not. I was one of the nerdy girls who spent my weekends locked up in my room with my nose stuck in a book.”

  “And your favorite?” He motioned to plastic chairs outside the lobby, and together they walked over.

  “Oh, too many to name. But if I had to choose … maybe Little Women. I read it over and over.”

  They talked a while longer, comparing college life in El Salvador to that in the United States.

  According to Ubaldo, most El Salvadorans weren’t able to go. “The state college is free, but only a small number get accepted. Like four percent. Honestly, most of my people don’t make it past sixth grade. I was the first in my family to finish high school.”

  “And yet, you went to a state college and graduated top of your class?” Such an honorable, hard working man. Obviously, he’d overcome great odds to get where he was.

  Why couldn’t she meet a man like him in the states?

  “Your parents must be very proud,” she said.

  “Not exactly.”

  She wanted to ask why, only his frown dissuaded her.

  But then, he lifted his chin and smiled. “I’ve received many blessings, and for that I’m grateful. You know what the Bible says—to him who much has been given, much is required. So now, I use my education to give back, to help others work towards a better life. That’s why I teach. What about you? What motivated you to pursue a career in television?”

  She studied her hands. Although her reasons weren’t as altruistic, they held significance to her. Would he understand? And why was it so important to her that he did? “Guess it was kind of an unspoken dream my dad and I shared.”

  Only now, she questioned the validity of that dream. Suddenly, she wanted more—to somehow make a difference. In light of the extreme poverty all around her, standing in front of a camera talking about architectural designs or extreme home make-overs seemed unreal.

  A warm breeze swept over them, and she gazed at a full moon glowing behind wispy clouds. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. When I pray, I like to look at the stars and think about how many other Christians are praying at that moment.”

  “A wonderful thought. You can’t see the stars much where I live.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Is it stormy all the time?”

  “Too many city lights.”

  “That’s a shame. See, our country is even more beautiful than you thought.”

  She smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  They sat a moment longer, admiring the stars in silence, listening to the hum of cars passing by the adjacent road. Peace surrounded her as she inhaled the warm night air.

  She could stay like this indefinitely. With him. And yet, with each moment, her departure grew closer. The day when she’d say goodbye and board a plane back to the states, never to see him again.

  Her heart squeezed, and she closed her eyes with a heavy breath.

  They sat in silence for a while. Was he thinking the same thing—about their inevitable parting, or had he simply ran out of things to talk about?

  Ten, maybe twenty minutes later, he cleared his throat and stood. “I better go.”

  It felt too soon.

  Resisting a frown, she nodded and walked him to his vehicle. “Thanks for talking with me. It helped me sort through the mess in my head. I think.”

  He studied her for a moment, the intensity in his eyes drawing her. “My pleasure.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and she held her breath. Leaned ever so slightly toward him. He stepped closer.

  “Hey!”

  She startled and whirled around. Across the lot, Eddie poked his head out of his room. “Why’s the Internet not working? Have you seen Pastor T?”

  Before she could answer, he darted to the adjacent room and started knocking.

  Ubaldo smiled. “I should let you go.” With a parting wave, he climbed into the van and drove away.

  The moment broken, which was probably for the best. The more time she spent with him, the more certain her impending heartbreak. If only they didn’t live a continent apart.

  She gave a deep sigh, the day’s events swimming through her mind. Why am I here, Lord? Why have You allowed my heart to get so jumbled? The one time I fall in love—and yes, she was in love. Not just with Ubaldo, but with each one of those poor, precious children.

  She rummaged through her backpack until she found her Bible and laid it on her lap. As she flipped through the pages, something Ubaldo said, a verse, came to mind. “Comfort others with the comfort you have received.” She knew it well, but never had it pricked her heart like it did tonight. She turned to 2 Corinthians.

  Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.

  Tears blurred her vision as she thought about the night her parents died, and how her aunt held her. Then, when Brooke could cry no more, her body limp with sorrow, Aunt Isidora had whispered the most beautiful prayer.

  Later, after she’d tucked Brooke in bed, she paused with her hand on the light and said, “I know this hurts, and it will for some time. But we’re here for you honey.”

  When Brooke’s world fell apart, she’d had Aunt Isidora, Au
brey, and Uncle Lester. But who did the orphans have? And what about those two girls she’d seen huddled behind the car? Did they have anyone to hold them close and tell them everything would be okay?

  She blew a puff of air toward her eyes to dry the emerging tears. Slipped her Bible into her backpack and stood.

  She returned to her hotel room to find the girls in the middle of a makeover party. Make-up, lotion, and hair products were spilled everywhere, and the scent of hairspray tickled Brooke’s nose. They offered to give her “smoky eyes,” but she declined and sat cross legged on her bed. Longing for a night of silence to process her feelings for Ubaldo.

  And yet, despite the energy zinging through the room, it was nice to see her sister having fun. And forming such close friendships, especially with youth group girls. Brooke was almost jealous.

  She pulled her laptop from her suitcase and opened her email account. Ten unread messages, most junk, one from Aunt Isidora, two work forwards, and one from Caleb. Curious, she clicked on the latter.

  “Good news. Home Haven’s started to generate some buzz, thanks to a recent newspaper headline and, don’t say anything, but rumor has it Mr. Echo plans on making you co-host. No more grunt-work, my rookie friend. Ratings remain shaky, but we’ve seen a slight climb, and I’ve got some ideas I think will give us another spike. I’ll tell you more about it when you get back. Oh, almost forgot. The News Xchange Gala dinner is coming up. Want to go? It’d be a great opportunity for you to rub elbows with a few of the network big-wigs.”

  Caleb Silvas had invited her to a gala? As a date? Did that mean …?

  No. The event was purely business. Most likely a way to increase publicity for his show. Or counter some of the crazy, playboy rumors that had surfaced about him on social media. Hopefully they weren’t an indication of what awaited her, once she got her big break. Public opinion could be so fickle—and loud. Misinformation traveled faster than a viral video.

  She turned off her computer and returned it to its case. A few months ago, she would’ve been thrilled to get invited to this formal event, excited about the schmoozing it offered. But now? She wasn’t sure what she wanted. Except sleep—like ten hours worth.

  And more time with Ubaldo.

  She needed to quit thinking that way about him. Their goodbye would be hard enough as it was.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  On their way to the orphanage, Brooke asked Ubaldo to stop somewhere so she could buy a few packages of candy, some cheese crackers, and two bottles of Gatorade. The teens thought this was a great idea. As if they needed more sugar.

  As Ubaldo pulled up to the curb outside a convenience store, Brooke fished through her backpack for her wallet. Would they see the girls again? Were they okay? She’d probably never know.

  The youth spilled from both vehicles and Brooke trailed along behind. Inside, an armed man guarded the entrance. He stepped aside to let the group in, watching them closely.

  Brooke dashed to a cooler in the back. Selected a variety of drinks and moved to an aisle lined with snacks.

  “Wow, you’re hungry today.” Eddie inspected her items. “Let me guess, not a fan of papusas and fried fish with eyeballs?”

  “Not exactly.” Brooke smiled and maneuvered around him toward the counter.

  Aubrey met her with an energy drink and a bag of chips. “You buying?”

  “What happened to all the money Aunt Isidora gave you?”

  “Left it at the hotel. I’ll pay you back. Promise.”

  Yeah, right. “Fine.”

  Twenty minutes later, they reached the orphanage and were met once again with giggling faces. Brooke’s heart warmed. How could she feel such love for children she bareley knew? If only she could take them all back to the states.

  Along with their handsome translator.

  Ugh! Why did she keep thinking that way?

  Re-centering her thoughts, she joked with the children for a moment. Engaged in a patty-cake game. Then, giving them each a firm squeeze, she excused herself to find Ubaldo. He stood on the other side of a tall concrete wall translating for two El Salvadoran builders trying to communicate their needs to some men on her team. Planks of wood rested on the wall and a handful of tools lay scattered on the ground.

  Ubaldo glanced up when she approached, and her stomach fluttered.

  She stepped over a two-by-four and maneuvered around a bucket of nails. “I left some things in the van. Can I borrow the keys?”

  He nodded and gave them over, his hand slow to leave hers. His eyes intense, focused. Studying her. But then he blinked, straightened.

  She swallowed and did the same, reminding herself that she came to El Salvador to serve, and watch over Aubrey. Not to fall in love with a handsome, kind translator. “Thank you.”

  Once outside, she looked first to the spot where the two girls once sat, then scanned the street on either side of her. At the corner, a bony dog with bald patches sniffed at trash on the ground. Across the street, a boy carrying a machete and a cloth bag followed three cows tied together with rope. The girls were nowhere to be seen. Would they return, looking for more treats? Or maybe they hid and watched. She could only hope.

  She unlocked the van, climbed in, and sat on the seat to pull candy, snack crackers, and drinks from her bag. At least this time she’d remembered to bring a gospel tract. Although the girls probably wouldn’t be able to read the words, the pictures painted a vague story of God’s holiness, man’s sin, and Christ’s redemption. If nothing else, it would provide a connection between the food Brooke offered and the God that moved her to do it.

  She dropped everything into a paper lunch sack, carefully folded the top, and jumped out.

  Ubaldo drew near. “You are very compassionate.”

  “I doubt they’ll be back.” Her throat felt tight, scratchy. “And someone else will probably take the candy, but hopefully it’ll be someone who needs it.”

  “And yet, God brought those girls into our path for a reason. A reason only He knows.”

  ***

  Fatima crouched along a concrete wall dividing a small plot of land and the inner courtyard of the children’s home. Dinora sat next to her, lining small pebbles on the sidewalk. She chattered as she did so, naming one stone mother, another sister, and the largest of them father.

  Fatima smiled. Only Dulce Din could find joy on the streets. “Who should I be?” She sat beside her and picked up a twig lying on the concrete. “I know, I’m a long, fat snake!”

  Dinora grinned. “But I am the snake catcher.” She moved one of her stones forward. “And we shall put on a grand show.”

  “Yes! We will be stars, and many people will come to watch us.”

  “They’ll buy tickets.”

  “Lots of tickets, and with the money we will buy …” Fatima raised an eyebrow. “What shall we buy with all our riches, Dulce Din?”

  “Plantains.”

  “Lots and lots of plantains! Big, fat ones! And what else?”

  “And papusa de quesos.”

  “With beans and chicken and pork and beef!”

  They continued their game, adding every food they could think of, talking of smells, and tastes, and bulging bellies. Fatima opened her mouth to start their list again when Dinora’s stomach grumbled so loudly, laughter stole her words.

  “It sounds as if your belly is trying to tell me something.” She tickled Dinora’s ribs and stood. She angled her face toward Dinora’s midsection and spoke in a gruff voice. “Be patient, silly stomach, before Dinora turns her snake on you.”

  Giggling, Dinora went back to her game, adding another animal to her “show.” Fatima slipped away to peer around the corner just in time to see the beautiful lady step into the street. Her mouth watered as the woman placed a brown paper bag and two bottles of blue liquid on the curb.

  The woman glanced in her direction. Fatima held her breath and crouched closer to the wall. Oh, how she wanted to trust her, to run out into the street and beg her to help th
em. But she was not so foolish. Though this woman, and the man who translated for her, seemed kind, it was but a trick. They wanted something. Everyone did.

  How many young girls seeking food, shelter, and someone to care for them soon found themselves trapped? Forced to work for others, with no pay themselves. Or worse. She shivered and shook her head. Not her, and certainly not Dinora. They didn’t leave their cruel cousin to be abused by a stranger.

  Once the woman disappeared into the children’s home, Fatima turned to her sister. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  Dinora licked her lips, her eyes brightening. “Will you bring more dulce?”

  Fatima cast another glance to the curb. What if this was a trick and she and the man were waiting somewhere, trying to catch her? But so long as she moved quickly, she could grab the food and outrun them. And yet, when she rose on weakened legs, dizziness swept over her. She reached for the wall to steady herself and waited for the fog to leave her head.

  Still touching the wall, she turned back to Dinora. “If I don’t come back—”

  “No!” Dinora grabbed Fatima by the shirt. “Don’t leave me!”

  She placed her hand over Dinora’s and forced a smile. “What I started to stay is, if I don’t come back right away, you wait here. If anyone comes, you must run as fast as you can and find a place to hide.”

  “How will you find me?”

  “I will. I promise. But that won’t happen. You’ll see. I’ll get us something to eat and be back without any trouble.”

  Dinora’s brow pinched, but she nodded.

  “Bien.” Fatima inched around the corner, surveyed the area. She paused to stare through the doorway leading to the children’s home. Once again, she saw children of all sizes, some with chubby cheeks and round bellies. Though their clothes were tattered and few of them wore shoes, their laughter flowed freely.

  A man with hair the color of the husk of coconuts, and almost as fuzzy, pulled a guitar from a black case and sat upon a bench seat. When he began to play, the children gathered around and soon joined him in song. The man Fatima met on the path leading to her village stood beside him, singing as well, just as he had the day before. The foreigners sang in English while the El Salvadoran and the children sang in Spanish. They sang of power, compassion, and a love stronger than fear. The beautiful woman with the long black hair sat on the ground, holding a toddler.