Hope House

by Tracy L Carbone

  She helped him along as they walked the last few steps, his hot body wavering. “I’m weak. I don’t know if I can make it.”

  “We are almost there.”

  “The passport was issued,” he said.

  She ushered him inside and onto a bed before she responded. “You have it?” she asked, her heart thumping in her chest.

  “No. It was issued and given to the courier, but-but but he didn’t check in today. Might be here tomorrow morning. That’s why I had to come back. You can fix my arm then we’ll run off. Just like we talked about.”

  He closed his eyes. His body was worn out. She took his shoes off, placed a sheet over him, and started an IV.

  “Look up f-flesh eating bac-bacteria online. That’s the other name for-for it. You . . . can see pictures . . . and read about it. Maybe you can find an article in French.” His speech was slurred and each word a struggle. By the end of his final sentence he fell asleep.

  Maybe the medicine would be strong enough to get him through the next day or two. Maybe in Belize they had a good hospital and they could go right from the airport to the emergency room there.

  She walked into the clinic’s lobby and typed in a few different things before finding what she needed. Terrible pictures of this Flesh Eating Bacteria popped up on the screen. Pictures of arms and legs flayed open like dead fish bellies. Bones exposed, half eaten by the bacteria.

  What she read on the French website made her sick. For Dr. Tad to live, she would have to cut away all the dead flesh. All parts of his arm that were damaged. Skin, muscle . . . Maybe she would have to cut off his entire arm.

  Martine felt sick but forced herself read more. Then finally she shut the computer off, her heart empty and hopeless. She could not make Dr. Tad well. A surgeon needed to chop off the dead parts of Dr. Tad and sew the good pieces together. And even with that, stronger medicines would be needed to make him survive. If he lived, his arm would be gone. Dr. Tad would never perform surgery again.

  Tonight there was nothing she could do except to continue his antibiotics and painkillers and let him sleep. At first light she would go outside the gate and ask Boris for help.

  She walked back into Dr. Tad’s room and sighed. “You have to pull through,” she whispered. “You have to live. I love you, Doctor Tad.”

  Martine reached down and kissed his cheek then got herself comfortable on the chair next to his bed.

  “Good night, Doctor Tad. You have sweet dreams and tomorrow we will start our new life. Just the two of us in a new land. No Mr. Puglisi and no Tonton Macoute. No monsters for us in Belize.”

  She shut the light off and closed her eyes. Martine prayed for sweet dreams too and that in the morning, with the new sun, everything would be all right.

  5.

  Home of Tommy Carpenter, Miami, late evening

  “Tommy, where are you going?” Jen asked as he crawled out of bed. He rolled his eyes in response. His wife was so clingy.

  “I can’t sleep. I may as well work for an hour or so since I’m just lying here anyway.”

  “It’s two in the morning.”

  “I know what time it is. I’d love to sleep but it’s not an option. I’ll be in my office.”

  She rolled over and fell back asleep again in seconds.

  Tommy hoped Gloria really was back home. She had called him from her house so she had been there, but had she stayed? He knew her too well to believe she had just dropped the whole thing so easily. He’d given himself a pat on the back for getting her off the trail but honestly, this was Gloria he was dealing with. She never did anything without a fight.

  It wouldn’t hurt to check her credit card activity. She thought she was well insulated in her charming Massachusetts suburb but there were always ways to watch a person.

  Tommy had used a connection a few weeks before to locate Gloria’s credit card information. From there he’d set up an Internet account to monitor it. If she’d set up an account herself online it wouldn’t have been so easy but he got lucky. She hadn’t. He logged into the account with the user name and password he’d created.

  There was a big new purchase. He couldn’t see the transaction yet but her available credit and posted charges showed a large variance. She’d booked a roundtrip ticket from Boston to Miami and back earlier so it had nothing to do with her travel. Or had something changed?

  He emailed his special friend Cynthia, a ticket girl at the airlines. She was his young mistress for a year or so until she got engaged to some other frequent traveler. It was the middle of the night but he knew she worked this shift. “Hi. Are you there?”

  She replied on that annoying phone of hers with a cryptic: “hiya t.” Things got slow this hour of the night and she'd probably be dying for something to do.

  "Can you check to see if Gloria Hanes booked any new flights tonight?"

  "no can do, t."

  "Please," he wrote back. He knew she damn well could look up whatever she wanted and was just being stubborn. "It's my ex-wife. She's in danger and I need to track her down."

  "dint believe u."

  Damn typos and short answers. Made her look stupider than she already was. Tommy hated how people thought it acceptable to take shortcuts in correspondence. He always wrote long accurately spelled replies.

  "She's my ex-wife, honest. Gloria Hanes-Carpenter. Now she's just Hanes. She just flew home from Miami to Boston but I'm wondering if she booked something else."

  "y do u want 2 know?"

  "I already told you. She might be in danger."

  "y not jst call her?"

  Tommy threw his hands up. Ditzy idiot. Would it really kill her to just look up the name?

  Before he could write again he got another message.

  “just messin w/u. boss checkng other airlines. BIG shot. gh booked flight w/kurt malone from jfk to haiti 2morrow 9am.”

  Haiti? “From New York City? Not from Boston?” he typed.

  “no, nyc. jfk.”

  What the hell? What was Gloria doing in NYC and why was she still with Malone? And why the hell were they going to Haiti?

  “Gotta run. Wife is up.” Okay that was a lie. Jen was fast asleep but he didn’t need anything else from Cynthia. He logged off.

  Kurt and Gloria must know he was involved. They’d been working together, against him. Damn! How much did they know? A hell of a lot if they were going to Maison D’Espoir.

  He dialed Mick’s home number but it went right to voicemail. His cell did the same.

  “Mick, it’s Tommy. Listen, Gloria isn’t back in Massachusetts. She’s with Malone in New York City and they booked a flight to Haiti for tomorrow. Call me as soon as you get this. You have to get a hold of Tad and warn him. And get down there yourself.”

  Tommy hung up. He wished he had Tad’s number but Mick was the only one with that. Only a select handful of people had Maison’s phone number and Tommy was not part of that chosen few.

  He shut off his computer. Sleep was out of the question now. He decided to get dressed and go to the office. He was too antsy to stay here and didn’t want Jen waking up and bothering him, asking questions or pestering him for sex.

  Right now he just wanted to be alone with his work, try to distract himself from obsessing over what would happen when Mick got that message. He gulped and turned on the hot water in the shower.

  Chapter Nine

  1.

  New York City, morning, Sunday, February 12th

  Mick wrapped his wool coat around him as he stepped out of the coffee shop in Manhattan. He wiped the snowflakes off his shoulder and cursed that he had to be here instead of home in the warm sunshine of Miami. At eleven in the morning he had an appointment with the Clarkson family under the guise of wanting to talk about their adoption. Angela had played it up good, told the Clarksons he was going to be in town anyway on business and wanted to see one of his success stories in living color. The adoptive mother had gloated and said she welcomed showing off her “little prince.”
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  He looked forward to beating Gloria to the punch. Another hour and then he could meet the Clarksons. No doubt Gloria and Kurt would be planning to see them sometime today too and then POW! An end to his troubles once and for all.

  Bang, bang, he thought and smiled. Mick patted his coat pocket. Still no cell phone. He hadn’t actually seen it since last night when he stopped for Chinese take out. There’s a little time before meeting the Clarksons, he thought. He’d find a Verizon shop and get a new phone. Hopefully there weren’t any important messages waiting. He ducked out of the snow and back into the coffee shop. They could point him to the nearest store.

  2.

  Maison D’Espoir, Haiti, late morning

  “Martine!” Boris called out.

  She ran toward his voice in the lobby.

  Dr. Tad was in and out of sleep, with a high fever. The dark rotting flesh on his body had crawled up to his shoulder. If she did not quickly get him to a hospital, he would soon be dead.

  “It’s here. Your passport. The man just brought it,” Boris said.

  She clutched it to her chest. “Thank you.”

  Boris placed his hand on her shoulder. “You will go now?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why? Go now, Martine. Take Doctor Tad and go, like you said. Did he change his mind?” Boris’ nostrils flared. “I knew he was lying to you!”

  She pulled away. “Dr. Tad did not lie! He is dying.” She paused and then admitted, “I do not know what to do.”

  Boris’ face changed to one of sorrow and compassion. “How is he dying?”

  Martine threw herself into Boris’ arms and sobbed good and hard. When she cried enough to calm herself she looked into his eyes.

  “The other day—” she gulped hard, “he cut his hand on the gate when he went to talk to you. He got an infection, a bacteria that is spreading. Come with me.”

  She wiped her eyes and then took Boris’ hand and pulled him toward the room where Dr. Tad lay, feverish and sleeping.

  She pulled back the sheet and lifted Dr. Tad’s gown away from his skin.

  Boris gasped then recovered. “I have never seen such a thing.”

  “I have not either.”

  “Come, I will take you and Doctor Tad in my car right now. You go pack and you can leave here forever.”

  “I am already packed,” she replied.

  “I will take you to the airport and you both can get on a plane. When you land you go to the hospital right away.”

  “I do not know if they will let him on the plane so sick.”

  “I can make it,” Dr. Tad said, shocking Martine. She thought he was sleeping. “I’m all right. I’ll take some more Cipro and pain killers. I’ll rest in the car and can pretend to be all right until the plane takes off.” He mumbled but was making sense. No more delusions.

  “What if something happens on the plane?” she asked.

  “I want nothing more to do with Haiti. I want nothing more to do with Maison D’Espoir. Just get me out of this godforsaken compound and on a plane, and I promise I’ll go to the hospital as soon as we land.”

  Martine looked to Boris who nodded. “Are you sure you are strong enough to walk?” His deep voice resonated with care.

  “No. But I can use a cane and can lean on you.”

  Boris smiled. “You will take care of my sister?”

  “Sister? So that’s how you know her?”

  Boris nodded. “Separated . . . long time, long story.”

  “That explains the last name,” Dr. Tad said. “I will take care of her. I promise.”

  Martine put some more antibiotics and Percocet into his IV. “Boris, please watch him while I go get our luggage. Once you drop us off will you come back and tell the girls they can go?”

  He nodded. “Bring a long sleeve shirt to cover his arm. You don’t want anyone on the plane to see it.”

  Martine began to walk away, taking shallow breaths trying to calm herself. A few more hours and they would be on an airplane to their new country. Soon this nightmare of a life she had been forced to live would be over.

  “Help me!” A scream from the front door.

  It was Anni, a girl who came to Maison the same month as Martine. They had been close until Martine became the nurse and Anni had gotten jealous. She had spread rumors that Martine was sleeping with Dr. Tad. Martine did not like Anni.

  The girl was clutching her stomach, crying. “Please. The baby is coming.”

  Martine stood still just staring at her. Not now. Not now, she thought.

  “It is not time, Anni. Go back to your cottage.”

  Anni’s black skin shone with sweat and her blouse stuck to her, gluing itself to her huge baby belly. “I have had four babies already, Martine. I know when it is time!”

  Anni fell to the floor and curled into a ball.

  Martine felt guilty for wanting to leave Anni there to fend for herself. It was not fair to think of herself and her situation now but she could not help it. Hours and hours could pass before the baby might come. The woman was not due for another couple of weeks so there might be terrible complications. Besides, Martine knew she could not take care of any serious problems without Dr. Tad’s help.

  Why couldn’t Anni have waited another hour for this to happen? Then they would be long gone and on their way to Port Au Prince and then Belize.

  Anni grabbed Martine’s ankle and looked up at her. Guilt stabbed through Martine for even thinking such selfish thoughts. If she had waited another hour to come, she would have to deliver the baby by herself. And she could die.

  “Boris!” Martine called.

  He ran from the room where Dr. Tad rested.

  “Can you lift Anni and bring her in the delivery room?”

  He lifted her big body so easily it appeared he had picked up a doll. Without a word, he carried her into the room beside Dr. Tad’s and set her down.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Boris walked out. She knew he must be uncomfortable with watching childbirth. She wished he had stayed. Martine did not think she could do this alone.

  “You rest now, Anni,” she said. “You are safe now. I will take care of you.” Martine was not sure what to do, except speak calmly. She had helped Dr. Tad many times but had never done this alone.

  She knew though that this was not a time for fear. Later she would allow herself the luxury of fear. Right now she had to help Anni to deliver her baby and then she had to get Dr. Tad to the hospital.

  Martine put her hand on Anni’s forehead and spoke softly to her, trying to bring herself some peace as well. Squeaky wheels jarred her.

  Boris pushed Dr. Tad in his hospital bed, pulling the IV along with him. “I cannot help you, but Doctor Tad can,” her brother said.

  Boris left the room again.

  “I can’t get up, Martine, and my arm is no good. But I can talk you through it,” Dr. Tad said. “Just relax. You can do this. Anni, how far apart are the contractions?”

  Martine breathed a sigh of relief. Dr. Tad would take care of things as always. “I will be right back.”

  Boris paced the small lobby. “Thank you for all your help.”

  He smiled. “I am glad to help. Will you be all right?”

  “For now.”

  “Then I will go back by the gate and keep my watch. When the baby comes, you find me and we will leave for the airport with Dr. Tad.”

  She nodded and ran back to the delivery room.

  It would be a long day and night but soon enough it would be over. Anni would have her child and Martine would tell her she could keep it if she wanted. Martine would gather all the girls together and announce the days of being breeding bitches were over. “Stay as long as you want and take whatever you can grab,” she would say. It would be at least a month before Mr. Puglisi was expected again. The girls and their families could strip Maison to the bare walls.

  And perhaps when Mr. Puglisi came strolling in to pick up the newest babies, Boris would
kill him. Shoot him in the head and leave his body in the woods for the wild boars, and he would know Boni’s disgrace.

  Life could sometimes be fair, she thought as she neared the room where Dr. Tad and Anni waited. Sometimes, indeed, God made things right.

  3.

  JFK International Airport, New York, late morning

  “Delayed,” Kurt said as he read the board of departures at the airport. “Damn it.”

  “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised,” Gloria responded. “Look at that snow.”

  Kurt looked out the wall of windows at the airplanes. It was near blizzard conditions, hard to even see the planes parked on the runway. “We’ve gotta get to Haiti. How long do you think it will be before we can leave?”

  Gloria took his hand. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat. We passed a Starbucks on the way to the gate. We can’t fly out till the snow lets up and a few hours won’t make much of a difference.”

  He nodded agreement. What could three hours matter or a day even? If Maison D’Espoir was an actual operation with a legitimate address, and if Tad Boucher was there, then he’d been there for years, and would probably be there for more years still.

  Kurt chewed his lip. “All right,” agreed. He wasn’t in the mood for coffee but he could buy a nip of Jack Daniels at the duty free shop and add it to a latte. It would help the time pass.

  4.

  Maison D’Espoir, late morning

  Anni’s contractions subsided and Dr. Tad, exhausted, had fallen asleep. Martine took the chance to go back to Dr. Tad’s house and gather his luggage. She hoped that Anni had only had false labor and would hold off delivering for a couple of weeks. Martine had decided to give her until early evening and if the contractions stayed away, she would leave with Dr. Tad for the airport.

  Martine dragged the wheeled suitcase into Tad’s home office to grab his passport and any other legal documents. He told her where his bank papers were as well as some other files he needed.