Lifting her eyes to the massive crisscross of beams overhead, she caught a glimpse of Max on the scaffolding that scaled the eastern side of the structure. He stood astride on the platform, gesturing and shouting something to the Haitian workers. She couldn't make out his words, but she smiled to herself at the authority he wielded. This was his hospital.
No. Max would have corrected her: This was God's hospital. But Max had worked full-time for the past year and a half, wrapping up his interests in Chicago, then overseeing the design, and ordering and shipping materials to Brizjanti for the construction of the medical facility. Madame Phil said she'd never seen anything so big go up so quickly here. Too often, it took months just to get supplies across the Atlantic for such a project.
But money talked. And Max knew how to make it sing. He'd never lorded his wealth over any of them, but he knew what was needed for the facility and he was particular about the quality of the work. Valerie loved that about him.
Max had assembled a crew of twenty Haitian workers, family men from the local church. Their respect for Max shone in their eager eyes and ready smiles as they worked long hours on the hospital construction. The project had put food on many Haitian tables over the past months, and several of the men had promised to stay on as maintenance and grounds workers when Hope Hospital opened next spring.
Already Max had begun recruiting physicians and nurses from his large church back in Chicago to come as volunteers in the facility two weeks out of the year. He'd also been interviewing skilled Haitian nurses and clinicians for the fifty-bed surgical center.
But it wasn't hospital business Valerie was interested in today. She sought Max for a different reason. She quickened her pace, resisting the urge to run. When she reached the base of the scaffold, she stood watching, waiting for him to notice her.
He observed as another section of reinforced cement was set in place. When the foreman signaled that it was secure, Max turned away, a look of satisfaction on his tanned face. He drew a wrinkled blue bandanna from his back pocket and swabbed at his forehead before tucking the cloth back into his pocket.
She knew the minute he spotted her. His eyes lit and a smile spread wide across his face.
She would never tire of seeing that unguarded joy on his face--joy at seeing her. She lifted her free hand in a wave. "Thirsty?"
He nodded and clambered down the wobbly scaffolding. Still grinning, he jumped to the ground and strode toward her. "I'd kiss you if I weren't so grimy."
She raised an eyebrow and flashed him a teasing smile. "I brought plenty of water. I can wait while you wash up."
He laughed, and offered cupped hands in invitation. She opened the jug and poured the cold water into his hands. Splashing and sputtering, he scrubbed his face, then tipped back his head and let the water trickle through his hair. He took the jug from her and drank deeply, then set it on the ground. With a gleam in his eye, he wagged his head like a freshly bathed puppy, spraying her with cool crystal droplets.
Valerie squealed and backed away, but he caught her up in his arms and twirled her around. He nuzzled her chin, his mouth seeking hers. She returned his kiss, until she remembered the workmen.
"Max..." She pulled away, shaking her head. "We have an audience."
They both looked up toward the hospital, but the work crew had turned back to their tasks. The gas engine of a cement mixer putted in rhythm with the clank of steel against steel, background music to their interlude.
Max pulled Valerie into a one-armed hug and kissed her soundly, then steered her into the shadow of an abandoned truck parked at the site. He kissed her again, longer this time, making her forget all about the work crew. If the sun hadn't already burnished her skin to copper, he would have seen her blushing madly.
Finally he pulled back a fraction, the impish gleam back in his eyes. "Okay. Now that we got that out of the way..."
She giggled.
He motioned toward the jug. "Did you come just to bring me fresh water?"
"And for those kisses."
"Well, of course." He cocked his head. "But seriously, you look like you have news."
She patted her pocket. "I do. And you almost made me forget."
He waited, curiosity in his eyes.
"I got a letter from Beth. They've all got tickets to come over the first week in May."
His eyebrows shot up. "So it's on, then?"
"It's on--" she dipped her head "--if you're still willing."
He drew her into his arms again. "Don't be silly, Miss Valerie. You're the one who should be seriously thinking of gettin' out while the gettin' is good."
"No sir, Dr. Jordan. You're not getting off the hook that easily. But if we get married the first Saturday of May--" She gave a little gasp. "That's less than three weeks away!"
"Now are you chickening out on me?"
She frowned and looked past him to the framed structure that would soon be Hope Hospital. "No, but will the construction be far enough along that you could take a day off by then?"
"We'll see that it is. But only one day." His expression turned serious. "You're sure you don't mind?"
She wrapped her arms tighter around him. "I don't mind."
He brushed her forehead with his lips. "Here...I'll walk back with you. I need to get some blueprints from the office. Wait just a minute while I let Antoine know."
He ran to the base of the building and spoke briefly to the foreman.
When he returned to her side, he picked up the jug and put one arm around her shoulders, guiding her back to the road. "I've been needing some time with you." He planted a kiss in her hair.
"Oh, you have, have you? And why is that?"
He looked surprised. "You have to ask? Because I'm madly in love with you, that's why."
"Oh." She grinned up at him. "Good reason. I've needed some time with you, too. We have so many plans to make if we're going to get married in three weeks." A butterfly of panic fluttered up inside her.
The day after Max had asked her to marry him, they'd agreed the wedding would be here in Brizjanti, on Haitian soil. After all, this was not only the place they would spend the rest of their lives together, it was the place they'd met.
It was home.
But Max had promised her they wouldn't get married until Dean and Beth and the boys could be there. Valerie had always dreamed of having her sister stand with her as she spoke her vows. And Pastor Phil--if he was well enough--would be Max's best man. Phil Greene had served as a gentle shepherd while Max grew in his newfound faith. It amazed Valerie to compare her fiance to the cynical man she'd first met in the Port-au-Prince airport a little more than two years ago. God had truly worked a miracle in Max Jordan's heart.
But then, he'd worked a miracle in her own heart, as well.
"You're quiet." Max brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead.
"There's just so much to do. We have to decorate the church and plan a menu and--oh, my! What will I wear?"
"I know what I want you to wear."
She stopped in the path. "You do?"
A mischievous twinkle came to his eye. "That skirt...You know...the red checkered-y one...?"
She burst out laughing. "No way! I am not wearing that stupid skirt! But I just might plan a special bonfire ceremony for it during the wedding."
"Aw, come on. I've grown rather fond of that outfit."
She landed a playful punch on his forearm. But teasing with Max this way brought home the fact that she was about to take the most serious step of her life. A month from now, this man would be her husband. She'd be waking up beside him every morning and falling asleep in his arms. She shook her head and mentally rolled her eyes at the image. Maybe she had things a tad over-romanticized.
Max must have sensed something in her thoughts, for he turned to her with a quizzical expression. "What?"
"Nothing...I was just wondering if you were going to work this hard after we're married."
"You know I will, Valerie. We've talked about this and--"
She shushed him with a gentle finger to his mouth. "I know, I know. I'm not trying to pick a fight. I just want to be sure I get my fair share of you."
He wiggled Groucho Marx eyebrows at her. "Oh, don't you worry about that. Besides, you'll have me all to yourself on our honeymoon."
"That's a long way off, buddy."
They wouldn't take their honeymoon trip until winter. The hospital would be nearly completed by then and Max could finally take a break. They would have only about ten days, but he'd promised to show her Europe.
They had ulterior motives for choosing their destination. Pastor and Madame Phil had a son in England and a daughter living in Wales. Valerie and Max hoped to contact them and somehow arrange a surprise visit for the elderly couple.
They walked in easy silence back to Hope House. While visions of wedding gowns danced in her head, Valerie knew Max was beside her calculating work schedules and organizing cement-bucket brigades for his crew.
She sighed. Sometimes she was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work there was to do before the hospital could open. By the time she and Max got back from their honeymoon, it would be time for him to supervise the installation of the surgical equipment. She was so proud of this man who had taken his wealth and multiplied it with wise investments and good management of his clinics in the States. In this land of deprivation, the funds would go a long way. They were both excited about what they might accomplish here.
As they approached the locked gates in front of Hope House, little Birdy stepped out of the shade of a ceiba tree. He wore only a tattered pair of khaki pants that were three sizes too big. Valerie cringed at the sight of the bony ribs embossing his concave chest. Birdy came almost daily now for whatever meager snack he might be offered. Valerie knew it wouldn't be long before other homeless children caught on and came begging at their gates. Then they would have to make some changes.
Yet God seemed to be opening so many doors here. Her heart thrilled at what the future might hold for children like Birdy because of their obedience--hers and Max's. It still amazed her.
Max had tried several times to get close enough to the little boy to assess the severity of his deformity, but Birdy always took off like a wild deer as soon as Max took two steps in his direction.
They stopped a few feet from where the boy stood. Valerie put up a hand. "Hi, Birdy." Unable to get his real name out of him, she had started calling him Birdy, even to his face. He seemed to like the name--or maybe he just liked the slice of bread or hunk of cheese that usually accompanied it. "Did you get your snack yet?" She made a spooning motion to her mouth.
He patted his tummy and nodded, his face twisting into a grotesque smile.
Samantha must have brought him something from Madame Duvall this morning.
"Good. See you tomorrow, okay?" She gave a little wave.
He didn't respond, but stood eyeing Max warily, poised to take flight. When they started on toward the gate, Birdy lit out, loping across the road and out of sight.
Max spoke under his breath. "We can help that child. I know we can. I have a young surgeon in one of the clinics who has already performed dozens of surgeries on complicated cleft palates. Birdy's condition is the severest I've come across, but I think Sylvia could do it."
"Oh, Max, that would be wonderful."
She leaned her head back in the crook of his shoulder, relishing the sense of belonging that overwhelmed her when she was with him. Sometimes she shuddered to think what her life might be like now if she had carried out her wedding plans with Will Concannon.
She shook off the thought. She didn't want to spoil one minute with Max beside her. Their life wasn't going to be an easy one. She already knew Max was a hard worker and a driven man. Leisurely walks like the one he offered her today might be a rarity in their future. But if that was what being Max Jordan's wife meant, she would take the good with the bad.
A breeze picked up and a bank of gray clouds rolled in. The air grew heavy with imminent rain. Valerie held out a hand, testing for raindrops.
Max turned to study the sky behind them. "We'd better run." He slid his arm from her shoulder and knit his fingers with hers. "Come on...hurry!"
Too late. All at once, the sky opened up and dumped a torrent of rain on them. Within seconds they were soaked to the skin, hair plastered to their scalps, eyelashes dripping, rivulets of rainwater trailing down their faces.
Valerie didn't care. An afternoon rain shower only meant a few more precious minutes together.
Laughing, he pulled her after him and they ran with abandon toward the shelter of Hope House.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-1732-8
OVER THE WATERS
Copyright (c) 2005 by Deborah Raney
New epilogue (c) 2008 by Deborah Raney
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Over the Waters Page 27