Shaken Page 7

  Kaylan met his eyes. “It’s also demonstrated best over time.” She kept her tone light, but her message was clear. He better tread lightly.

  His smile grew as he acknowledged her gentle warning. “How about this: I promise I won’t say it until I know for sure.”

  “I can handle that.”

  His eyes grew intense again, and she fought the urge to pull back. “But when I finally say it, Kaylan, I’ll be playing for keeps. And you’ll need to make a final decision on whether you can trust me or not.”

  She nodded, speechless. He pulled her near again as the song wound to a close, and they stood breathless in the middle of the studio.

  His lips lowered to hers, his fingers weaving through her hair, challenging her resolve. Her racing heart galloped like Black-Eyed Pea in an open field. Heat poured into her face. She wasn’t ready for the feel of his lips on hers again. Not when everything was still unsure. Before she could change her mind, she gently pushed against his chest and away from his embrace.

  “Make good on your promise,” she whispered. “Let’s see what happens.”

  He nodded, pulling her close again and resting his forehead on hers. He chuckled. “You won’t let me say good-bye like I want, will you?”

  She shook her head, tempted to change her mind. Her arms slipped around his neck, and they swayed in the silence. In the moments that passed, she stored the memory in her heart to recall when she was miles away and this seemed only a dream. His arms, warm and firm, made it seem as though all was right in the world. He chased away the shadows. But it was time to face her future. Only God knew if Nick would play a part.

  Weaving her fingers into his hair, she brushed his cheek with a kiss before pulling away, her eyes looking to his heart, to the hole in his armor he’d opened for her alone. Her whisper echoed in the gilded room: “It’s how I want to say hello.”

  “You can bet on it, beautiful.” He slipped his rough hand in hers, linking their fingers, and brushed her fingers with his lips. Her breath caught and a future with him materialized in her mind again piece by piece.

  As they left the studio to rejoin her family at home, Kaylan felt as if she could conquer the world with him at her side.

  With his promise to sustain her, the trip to Haiti shone all the brighter.

  PART TWO

  Chapter Nine

  THE STREETS OF Port-au-Prince, Haiti, buzzed with goats and children. A chicken ran across the road in front of Rhonda’s small car, flapping and clucking, and Kaylan leaned out the window to watch its frenzied trek. She had just arrived, and already the vibrant colors in this tiny country astounded her—bright reds, deep turquoise, kelly greens, and sunny yellows and oranges marked people’s lives and art in the tropical environment.

  Mothers poured buckets of water over naked children less than a foot from where cars zoomed past. Cars played chicken in the streets, traffic lines completely ignored, speed limits disregarded. If a car moved too slowly, others simply zoomed around it, dodging oncoming traffic. Women walked with baskets or buckets of water balanced on their heads, their daughters trailing behind with smaller balanced bundles.

  Homes stood pieced together with sheets of rusted metal and worn wooden boards. Clothes hung loosely and mismatched on adults and children wandering the streets, but smiles adorned many faces, and children played in the street with rocks and flattened balls. Though many were destitute, the people made up for the squalor by accessorizing their lives with color. Her first glimpses of Haiti filled Kaylan with a strange mixture of horror and hope. She was ready to roll up her sleeves and dive in.

  “What’s that terrible smell?” Sarah Beth wrinkled her nose in protest at the scent of burning plastic. Since debarking the plane, Kaylan had fought the urge to hold her breath.

  “It’s garbage and waste. People don’t have a way to dispose of trash properly, so they burn it. You’ll get used to it after a while. It’s worse in the city than farther out in the country.”

  Rhonda gripped the steering wheel, winding her way among cars and trucks zooming past, some with men perched precariously on the car roof. Kaylan sent up a silent prayer for safe arrival at their destination.

  A tap-tap, similar to a small bus, navigated the street in front of them. Kaylan stared in awe at the array of colors coating its sides. It was as if a rainbow had broken apart into odd shapes and pieces and melded together to form a unique piece of artwork on the vehicle—a hippie experiment gone terribly wrong. The sides of the bus were covered with voodoo and Christian symbols, and men peered at the white women from the small door in the back of the bus. A motorcycle skirted past their car, carrying four people and a small pig.

  Their car bumped and swerved over potholes. Kaylan pressed her hand to the roof of the car, anchoring herself in the seat. The sides of the road overflowed with clothes, flip-flops, food, and artwork. Packed bodies scurried from one side of the street to the other, resembling ants on a mission to carry supplies back to the queen. Cars honked, people ran to and fro, and vendors yelled from the side of every street. A thin, bald man stood on a corner, handing out pills to locals who bartered with him.

  “He’s the local pharmacy,” Rhonda pointed out. Kaylan sat up straighter and took a closer look. That couldn’t be healthy. A basket rested on his head, and he periodically reached up to grab a package of unmarked pills.

  Rhonda jerked the car then slowed as a mass of humanity came in view. Sarah Beth squealed from where she sat in the back. “What is all this?”

  “It’s one of the biggest marketplaces in Port-au-Prince.” Rhonda gestured to the women and children outside. The mothers spoke with their hands, their voices rising over the clamor of people arguing for the necessities. “Despite what they barter for here, people still have very little. Hardly enough to survive.”

  “They must be pretty tough.” Kaylan watched a mother corral her children through the mass of bodies.

  “They’re resilient. Life is hard, and the people here roll with it. In a sad way they’ve accepted that it will probably never get better. It’s a sick cycle.”

  “Then how do we stop it, Rhonda?”

  “One person at a time. Sometimes it’s like trying to swim upstream. You fight the current the whole way, and only those determined to tough out the heat, animals, natural disasters, and blasé attitude make it. This country isn’t for the fainthearted or idealistic.”

  Kaylan’s heart broke for the Haitians, and her affection swelled for the lady driving. From the moment Rhonda Ames collected them from the airport, Kaylan sensed a humble strength from this tiny woman.

  “Rhonda, how did you end up here in Haiti?”

  The corners of her eyes crinkled with her smile, a mark of years in the Haitian sun. “I was young and idealistic like you. I got married right out of college, and we both wanted to save the world. Haiti was the forgotten country, the underbelly of the United States, with little resources and big problems.” She shrugged. “At first we were determined to change it. But my husband left me three years after we married. He hated the heat and the lifestyle. I said we could go back to America and serve there, but he said it was too late for us. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Haiti was home. My family is here now. Haiti can drain your motivation or make you more determined.” She looked at both of them in the rearview mirror. “Be careful not to let life here discourage you.”

  Kaylan studied the scene outside her window. Poverty, pure and simple. She never imagined it could be this bad. How did people live like this? Before she boarded the plane, she questioned her sanity. Haiti had more nonprofits trying to help than almost any other country. Maybe she should pick somewhere else to help. But those thoughts were immediately dispelled as she drove through human squalor. This country needed more help than it was getting. And she and Sarah Beth were ready and willing.

  “We’re excited to help. Just put us to work, Rhonda.” But Kaylan wondered who she would be if she spent years in Haiti as Rhonda had. Would she lose her pas
sion, or would she grow even more motivated? Only time would tell.

  Evening had descended on the California coast. As much as Nick missed Kaylan, it was nice to be back in the home he shared with Micah close to the beach in Coronado. It was definitely a Navy community, and Nick had missed the sound of the waves and the smell of salt in the air. As much as Micah was a Southern man with the accent to prove it, Nick had been born and bred for the ocean.

  He and Micah had returned to California a day before Kaylan left for Haiti. After spending his first deployment with the SEALs in Afghanistan, it was comforting to be back with these men, his family.

  Music drifted from Micah’s room as Nick took advantage of the down time to compose a letter to Kaylan. Words spilled onto the page.

  A football whizzed through the air and landed next to Nick on his bed. Nick looked up to see Micah cross the room with an envelope in his hand, a grin the size of Canada lighting his features.

  “Well, Hawk, looks like you made more headway with my sister than I thought. Maybe your charm worked after all.” He tossed the envelope on the bed, and Nick wrestled to keep his expression mild. If Micah knew just how much this meant, he would never hear the end of it.

  “Looks like it got lost in our pile of mail on the kitchen table.” He smirked. “You gonna open it?”

  “Not with you watching, Nosy.”

  “C’mon, Hawk. I need something on my mind besides all these drills they’ve run us through since we got back.” He massaged his shoulder and neck. “They must be prepping us for something big.”

  Nick nodded. His muscles ached from drills and the weight room. He may have overdone it a bit, but anything was better than losing his mind worrying about Kaylan. He wanted to kick Micah out of the room and read her letter, but years of discipline kept his emotions firmly under control.

  Micah shifted back against the wall, this time massaging his calf muscle. “What do you think it is?”

  “What are you yapping about?”

  Micah snatched the envelope and twirled it between his fingers. “If you can’t get your mind off my sister and into combat mode, we may be in serious trouble on our next deployment. Is that why you’ve been hitting the weights during every free moment? You’re making me look bad, man.”

  Nick punched him in the arm. “I’ll be good when it counts. Kaylan won’t be an issue.” Yet, Nick silently wondered. She invaded his thoughts, made him second-guess his moves in combat. He didn’t need her on his mind to stay alive. The natural drive was strong enough. Micah was right, though. If he couldn’t start focusing here, he’d be in big trouble on the next op.

  The letter landed on his chest lightly, and Micah rose to leave the room. “Maybe I should find a girl so I’m motivated to hit the gym more often.” A sarcastic smile lit his face. “Tell my baby sis I said hi.”

  Nick tore through the envelope and found her familiar script, as elegant and graceful as she was.

  Nick,

  We watched our last sunrise together this morning, and tomorrow afternoon I will board a plane for a country that has a name but no face to me right now. It comforts me that no matter how far apart we are, we are both under the same sunrise. I will watch them in the mornings and pray for you.

  The art of writing letters has been all but forgotten, but thank you for braving my brother’s endless teasing and your own embarrassment to make the effort. It means more than you know. You asked me to trust you, and you have made that easier every day of this holiday. You’ve lived up to your word and your mantra.

  As I leave for Haiti, I leave with hope. I will spend time with my best friend and serve with her because I love her; I will help people physically because the Lord has gifted me; and I pray their hearts will change spiritually, because He came to heal body, soul, and mind.

  Your calling and mine are not all that different. You fight for your country because you love it. You would lay your life down, because you believe some things are worth it. You would pay the ultimate sacrifice for people you have never met, because Jesus did the same for you. I find myself praying for that courage and servant’s heart. I will help people, because the Lord cared about the broken, abused, poor, and needy. I will be the hands and feet of Jesus. In the process, I pray I can learn the sacrificial heart of a warrior. That’s what I admire about you, Nick: your strength.

  Praying for you from an ocean away,

  Kayles

  Nick skimmed the page again, seeing her quiet strength. He stood and paced the room. She trusted him. How precious was that gift, one he didn’t deserve after his past with her. He prayed for courage and for strength. She weighed heavier on his mind than she had in days, and he felt an urgency to pray.

  She would receive the gift he’d sent in a few days, and he hoped she saw the heart behind it. He folded the letter and slipped it into his Bible, two precious treasures united. If she spent the early morning hours praying for him, then he would do the same.

  He grabbed his running shoes to stamp out the urgency and longing knotting his gut. He was just beginning to appreciate the strength and perseverance it would take to ask her to wait for him at home while he served his country.

  Micah stood in the center of the living room, stretching. A grin spread across his face again. “Ready for that run?”

  “You know me too well.” Nick laughed. “See if you can keep up.”

  “No problem. Now you gonna tell me what that letter said that has you in need of clearing your head?”

  Nick grabbed Micah in a headlock. “If I talked about it, it wouldn’t clear my head, now, would it? Besides, I would hate to ruin my mysterious reputation.”

  Micah fell into step with him, his laughter echoing off the houses in their neighborhood.

  Chapter Ten

  THE FIRST THREE days in Haiti passed in a blur. While Sarah Beth roamed the neighborhood getting to know the children, Rhonda worked Kaylan mercilessly at the medical clinic, training her in skills she lacked, like suturing and giving shots. Kaylan had knowledge of nutrition practices, health needs, the body, and basic chemistry, but the practical, hands-on skills escaped her. As Rhonda trained her, she realized how little she actually knew. Book knowledge only went so far. In a country like Haiti, though, whoever was present to help handled any and every emergency. Doctors and volunteers alike became masters in the art of “winging it” for the sake of saving a life.

  Patients came and went. Kaylan brought them water as they waited and spoke to children who shyly smiled back, curiosity shining from big, dark eyes. To build relationships, she and Sarah Beth had even joined in a soccer game the night before. A rolled-up lump of trash had served as a ball until Sarah Beth presented the checkered ball she had slipped in her suitcase in place of a pair of shoes. The excitement of the children shattered the language barrier. Laughter became the means of communication. Kaylan had fallen in love—not with a man, but with a people.

  Today was her day. Rhonda had declared her ready to start seeing patients on her own. This day might test everything she held dear about her new romance.

  Her interpreter, Abraham, entered the clinic with a big grin, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. Sunglasses rested on his head, and his designer jeans spoke of American attempts to provide for this country. The Haitian flag on his T-shirt spoke of his pride. Kaylan warmed at his presence, thanking God for this lanky teen.

  “I feel called of God to lead my people, Kaylan. I will teach them the truth about Jesus Christ,” he had told her on her first day at the clinic. He was in his first year at the local seminary and volunteered as an interpreter with Rhonda in his free time.

  “I’m ready.” Her eyes flitted around the room, finding her first patient, a young girl of about fifteen with a child in her arms.

  “You be God’s hands today, and I will be His mouthpiece, and together we will make a great team. Wi?” Abe held up his hand for a high-five, something Sarah Beth had taught him. His grin was infectious.

  “Wi.” Th
e crack of their hands drew several curious looks from those waiting.

  Kaylan knelt down in front of the young girl and brushed her fingertips across the head of the sleeping baby.

  “Are you Tasha?” The girl nodded as Abraham translated, Kaylan understanding bits and pieces from her study of French. “Tasha, I’m Kaylan. Let’s go back and check you and your little man out, okay?” Tasha rose and followed Kaylan to a small room in the back of the clinic where Rhonda inventoried supplies. She had promised to listen and observe, stepping in only if necessary.

  “May I hold him?”

  Tasha handed her baby to Kaylan reluctantly. Kaylan placed her hand on his tiny back, feeling the rattle through his thin shirt as he breathed. “What’s his name?”

  “Kenny.”

  “He’s beautiful.”

  Tasha grinned, her hesitancy dropping away. “Wi. A gift.”

  Kaylan placed Kenny on his back in a small basinet then displayed a pamphlet she’d brought with her, outlining in Creole good foods to eat so Tasha and Kenny would receive the nutrition they desperately needed. “Do your best to eat chicken or pork daily to satisfy your protein requirement. Fruits and vegetables are necessary too, as well as grain or bread of some kind.” She stopped and waited for Abe to translate. He looked at her, his eyes wide and confused.

  “Sorry, Abe. Do I need to slow down?”

  Tasha’s eyes swiveled back and forth between them, her forehead wrinkling.

  “Kaylan, I cannot tell her that.”

  “But that’s what she needs while she breast-feeds, so she and Kenny will be healthy. I’ve researched this. I have a plan. It’ll be okay.”

  “I do not think you understand the ways of Haiti.” He shook his head sadly and spread his hands, imploring. “Do you not know what she is?”