After the Silence
After the Silence
Rula Sinara
Does following her passion mean losing her way? Marine Ben Corallis is an expert at facing death, but nothing comes close to the terror that grounds him when his wife is killed in a car accident the day he returns from duty. He's left to raise an infant, a toddler and a ten-year-old girl who hasn't uttered a word since her mother's death.It's hard not to care for the widowed marine with three young children. Yet he's still grieving, too burdened with guilt to fall in love again. And Hope Alwanga's future as a doctor awaits her on the other side of the world, in Nairobi. If two such opposites can't agree on a common country, how can they ever create a safe place to call home?
Does following her passion mean losing her way?
Marine Ben Corallis is an expert at facing death, but nothing comes close to the terror that grounds him when his wife is killed in a car accident the day he returns from duty. He’s left to raise an infant, a toddler and a ten-year-old girl who hasn’t uttered a word since her mother’s death.
It’s hard not to care for the widowed marine with three young children. Yet he’s still grieving, too burdened with guilt to fall in love again. And Hope Alwanga’s future as a doctor awaits her on the other side of the world, in Nairobi. If two such opposites can’t agree on a common country, how can they ever create a safe place to call home?
“I’m having a hard time picturing Christmas trees growing in Kenya.”
Hope stepped away from the corner where she’d been leaning against the wall, watching them.
“Other than hunting our plastic one out of storage, I have not had a real tree-hunting experience, but I think you and the kids should go by yourselves.”
What? She was still upset with him?
Maddie took Hope’s hand and tugged her even closer to Ben. She wanted her to come, too. For an entirely different reason, he was sure.
Ben started to reach out to take Hope’s hand himself. He wanted to pull her out the door. Make her come, because he needed her to be there. He was taking the kids to get a tree because a crazy voice in his head was telling him it was the right thing to do. Whether it was going to be a good thing, he didn’t know for sure. What if being in that tree lot proved too hard to take and he ruined the night for his kids? He wanted her there when he helped the kids hang all the ornaments Zoe had collected over the years. How could he get through that without Hope there to pick up the pieces if he broke down?
But maybe she didn’t want to pick up the pieces.
Dear Reader (#ulink_07471ece-c5d8-500c-be7d-1eebb653ab34),
Silence is something that—as a mother of three boys and an outrageous number of pets—I’ve begged for at times. Anything for a little bit of soothing peace and quiet in which to work, think (and actually be able to hear my thoughts) and decompress. But, as a mother, I also know firsthand how frustrating and destructive silence can be, especially for a child.
Although my kids have come a long way, two of them struggled with being able to cope with and express overwhelming emotions when they were younger. As a result, they’d shut down. The teacher calls, school visits, hours of trying to get them to open up...I’ll never forget any of it.
It’s heartbreaking for a parent not to be able to get through to their child. For my kids, the silence would last from endless minutes to hours. But for Maddie, the young girl in this story, it has gone on for months...triggered by the tragic loss of a parent. I’m so grateful that my kids didn’t have the same diagnosis or trigger as Maddie, but nonetheless, it still comes down to internal suffering. An inability to cope. A cry for help. And whether it’s a child or adult withdrawing, silence can be a dark, stressful and lonely place...until love and trust finally break through.
I hope you enjoy this story of how two people suffering on opposite sides of the world discover each other, rediscover the power of love and family and, together, show a little girl that it’s okay to be happy again.
My door is always open at rulasinara.com (http://rulasinara.com), where you can find links to my blog, all the places I hang out and more, so feel free to drop by!
Rula Sinara
After the Silence
Rula Sinara
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
RULA SINARA lives in Virginia’s countryside with her husband, three boys and zany but endearing pets. When she’s not writing or doing mom stuff, she loves organic gardening, attracting wildlife to her yard (cool bugs included) or watching romantic movies. She also enjoys interviewing fellow authors and is a special contributor for Happy Ever After on USATODAY.com. Her door is always open at rulasinara.com (http://www.rulasinara.com) or awritersrush.blogspot.com (http://www.awritersrush.blogspot.com).
To each of you who has helped a child to heal and rediscover joy.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_57c3af09-c065-582c-bb77-11fc2ce913d8)
Infinite thanks to my author sisters for their support and shared stories of surviving deadlines when life throws a few curveboulders...and to my reader friends for your generous and beautiful words about my first book in this series, The Promise of Rain. You all kept me going.
And, as always, thank you, Victoria Curran, for your patience, incredible insight and for encouraging me to be cruel to my characters. Plain and simple, you make me a better writer. I’m blessed to have such a gifted editor and teacher to guide me.
Contents
Cover (#uddfd58f4-9613-52b0-8c1a-4ada639767c1)
Back Cover Text (#ub718ed3c-d9bf-51f9-b0d6-70749920511c)
Introduction (#u91287761-0dcf-510d-b7b2-fe6ce9df2f12)
Dear Reader (#u65bd9e5f-363d-5b9d-8a2e-728585df6dce)
Title Page (#uf40a1904-3a12-5254-b309-2553f185e4e2)
About the Author (#uca82b396-bb10-531f-a969-651bb2039864)
Dedication (#uf65cbd30-8102-5062-b684-b01f7f7fc747)
Acknowledgments (#u3ff83144-0f4f-5c9f-9a46-874c28d33028)
PROLOGUE (#u7f170235-05b3-5d66-97c7-b2506da6096e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u52c4093d-2f30-522c-b6e2-000aeb706ebc)
CHAPTER TWO (#u9d350449-49bb-548f-ae53-25ed551b6b47)
CHAPTER THREE (#u8f154af7-8efe-57d7-a80b-5f6b0b594001)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u43df0a92-99b5-5643-a7b8-8927746143d6)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_3a8dd918-576b-5f1a-87a0-391643fcde94)
ZOE CORALLIS HELD her breath as the door to the baby’s room clicked shut. She counted five seconds before daring to tiptoe away, cleared a good five feet before exhaling, then scurried to the kitchen.
“Mommy, I finished copying down my spelling words and the oven just beeped,” Maddie said, jumping off the kitchen stool and stuffing her notebook into her brown-and-pink gingham backpack. “Did you want to check them?”
Zoe chuckled as she turned off the oven timer before it could ring and wake up Ryan. Maddie, knowing full well there wouldn’t be homework checks this afternoon, already had her backpack zipped up.
“I trust you, sweetie,” she said as she pulled two round pans of Ben’s favorite banana cake out of the oven and set them on the stovetop to cool. She dipped her head, teaming up with the effervescent light spilling through the window, and scanned the counter for rogue crumbs. Spotless.
“Is he almost here?” Maddie asked.
Zoe glanced at the oven clock for the hundredth time since morning. Three-fifty. Which meant the cream-cheese frosting and strawberries weren’t going to make it onto the cake until after Ben arrived, and she’d wanted everything perfect and ready. After ten months of hell, he deserved to come home to peace and quiet. And Zoe knew how much having the house calm and clean helped him recover from experiences he never discussed and she didn’t dare imagine.
Zoe held Maddie’s cheeks and kissed her pert little nose. “Almost.” She gave Maddie’s two dark braids a playful tug, then took her backpack from her hand. “I’ll put this away. Do me a huge favor and go help Chad pick up his toys so Daddy doesn’t trip on them.”
“Okay.” Maddie tucked her stool under the counter, then cupped her hands against her chest. “Can we tell him about the puppy yet?” she whispered. Chad was too young to be trusted with a secret, and Maddie was nearing bursting point, not being able to share their plans to raise a puppy. Zoe was so exhausted today that she had fleeting second thoughts about the yearlong commitment—raising a puppy for a service-and-guide-dog-training organization that was known for helping veterans—but seeing her daughter’s face beaming reaffirmed her decision. Maddie loved animals, and the experience would not only be great for the kids, it would be great for Ben, too. Her gift to him. A way to serve...from home.
“Let’s give Daddy a day to settle in before we tell him. Think you can keep it hush until tomorrow morning?” With the pup scheduled to arrive in five days, they’d definitely need to tell Ben as soon as possible. Breakfast time would be good. Maddie scrunched her face as if she’d sucked on a lemon and dropped her arms.
“Fine. I’ll survive,” she said with a dramatic sigh.
Zoe watched her daughter skip into the family room off the kitchen and half listened to her coaxing her four-year-old brother to clean up rather than play. He protested. Loudly. Peace and quiet were near impossible on a good day. She sure hoped the antibiotics for Ryan’s ear infection would kick in so he’d sleep through tonight. That, or Ben was going to need earplugs. Zoe rubbed her forehead. With no caffeine because of nursing and no more than three hours of sleep last night, she knew anticipation was the only thing keeping her from crashing. She felt guilty for not taking the kids to get Ben, but with a sick baby and the wait time involved, it just wasn’t possible. It wasn’t his first homecoming, but it felt like it. Every time he made it home safely, she couldn’t shake the niggling fear that they’d used up their good luck. Zoe’s eyes burned. She’d give her life to know that Ben would be safe and sound forever.
She swallowed hard and reached for the baby monitor perched on the counter by the fridge, and made sure Chad hadn’t fiddled with the volume setting. She would not break down. Not in front of the kids, and certainly not in front of Ben. He’d be dealing with jet lag and exhaustion. He didn’t need her falling apart at the sight of him, too. Not when she wanted so badly to convince him not to reenlist—again—and that this was the place to be.
Home.
And changing her shirt would be a good move. Even she, immune as she was, could smell the sour tang of baby burp on her shoulder.
“Maddie. Chad. I’ll be right back. Hide the toy box behind the sofa when you’re done.”
“Daddy!” The creak of the front door, thud of a duffel bag hitting the floor and Chad’s squeal sent an explosion of everything pure, wonderful and fated surging through Zoe and lodging in her throat. The sight of him standing in the doorway did her in.
“Ben.” She could barely hear her own voice over the wail from the baby monitor.
His lips curved into the crooked smile that had charmed her from day one. Zoe held back for the kids and thanked her stars when Ryan’s cry through the monitor mellowed to a gurgle, then silence. She watched as Ben knelt down to hug Chad, then held one free arm out to a suddenly shy Maddie. Chad was young enough to get excited over the idea of Daddy, but Maddie’s uncertainty broke Zoe’s heart. At nine, she was realizing just how much of a stranger her dad really was. Seeing her finally wrap her arms around him set Zoe’s tears in action. He stood up, and in seconds Zoe ambushed him, legs around his waist. Her lips met his in a long, warm kiss. She ran her hands along the stubble that shaded his face and kissed his neck, letting herself get enveloped in the strength, warmth and scent that was only his.
“I missed you. Oh, man, I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you, too,” he said, nuzzling her hair and holding her firmly against his chest. He didn’t let go. Zoe loved that he didn’t let go—in spite of the fact that the aroma of baby burp couldn’t have escaped his keen marine senses.
“Something smells good,” he said.
Zoe laughed and pulled back.
“I need to change my shirt.”
“Me, too. I’ll be right behind you. I need to set my bags in the bedroom.”
Zoe stroked his cheek again. “By the way, I’m making your favorite cake, and as soon as I change, I need to run to Bentley’s to pick up dinner.”
Ben flattened his hand against his heart.
“You’re the best. With extra cheese?”
“Made to order just for you,” Zoe said. Ben loved her home-cooked meals, but ordering his favorite burger from the same pub where they’d gone on their very first date had become a homecoming tradition. Thank goodness Maddie had reminded her this morning. Lack of sleep nurtured brain fog.
Zoe fingered his collar, then rested her hands on his shoulders. Whatever had been bugging him, they were finally face-to-face. They’d sort it out. She knew he worried about money. But once he met his son, nothing else would matter.
She hoped.
“Ryan is sleeping, barely, but you have to come see him. Mom says he looks like me, but I don’t know. I think he has your nose.”
“Poor kid,” Ben said, ruffling Chad’s hair before picking up his oversize duffel and following Zoe toward the bedroom hallway to the right of the kitchen.
“Poor kid has an ear infection. He might be cranky when he wakes up, but I won’t take long. Maddie can help you.”
“Yep, he likes me,” Maddie said, looking at Zoe for confirmation.
“How could he not? You’re the greatest big sis and helper ever,” Zoe said, letting Ben enter the master bedroom ahead of her. Maddie looked expectantly at her father for approval, but he just set his bag near the foot of the bed and looked around the room without a word, as if he’d entered a hotel room and needed to get his bearings. It happened whenever he came home. And by the time they’d find a new rhythm and his awkward, withdrawn silences would subside, he’d get ready to head out again.
But not this time. Zoe needed to convince him that he’d served enough and that she needed him here with her. The kids needed their dad.
Zoe rubbed Maddie’s shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile.
“Do me a favor. Go touch a finger to one of the cakes and see if it’s cool enough to frost. You can start on it while I pick up dinner.”
“Okay!” Maddie ran down the hall, the hurt of her dad not responding seemingly forgotten.
Chad scrambled up the side of the bed and started jumping.
“Get down, buddy, before you fall,” Ben said, scooping him by the waist and setting him on the floor.
Zoe slipped into their small walk-in closet and quickly changed. She couldn’t help feeling a little nervous and self-conscious around him. The last time he’d seen her she’d barely begun showing, but Ryan was only four weeks old and, as slim as she was, she was still battling the remains of belly flab and stretch marks. She stepped out just as Ben pulled an army-green cap from his bag and put it on Chad’s head.
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” she said.
“No, wait,” he said. “I can go. You stay in case the baby wakes up.” The baby. Not Ryan.
“Ben, you’ll be fine. He was up all night, so I don’t think he’ll wake up for a while. Just go take a peek at him.”
Ben started to protest, and Zoe put her fingertips to his mouth, then ran her thumb along his bottom lip in promise. “Go meet your son. Spend a little time with the kids. They go to bed pretty early. You’ll survive.”
Ben covered her hand with his, then let her slip away.
* * *
SOME THINGS WERE not meant to be miniature.
Ben cocked his head and looked at his swaddled son. Poor thing really did have his nose. Don’t worry, bud, you’ll grow into it. He was actually a cute little thing, little being a scary word. With the same caution he’d use to handle a live grenade, he reached down and laid his hand against Ryan’s chest. The pulsing of that tiny infant heart against his callused palm blew him away. Innocence. It killed him that he had taken part in bringing another innocent child into a world ravaged with so many evils and dangers...but he had. And it was his duty to make sure his family was provided for and no harm came to them.
Wow. Kid number three. Ben swiped his palm down his face. Higher bills, expenses and college tuition...which meant no way could he give up his steady pay and benefits. Not yet. He was more valuable to them on duty anyway. Whenever he was home, his time was dedicated to fun and relaxation with Zoe and the kids. If he had to tackle child rearing on a daily basis, he’d probably just mess up what Zoe had going. She was the most amazing wife a marine—any man, for that matter—could have. The most incredible, patient woman and mother he knew. And they had a system. His career meant they’d be safe and provided for and she...she held down the fort and made it all worthwhile. It worked for them, and she seemed happy enough.
He hadn’t had any doubts about her happiness until she’d recently begun talking, via Skype, about how relieved she was that his duty was ending, and she wouldn’t have to live day to day worrying about the infamous knock on the door. He’d let it go. Arguing over his decision to reenlist wasn’t something he’d wanted to get into on a computer screen. Especially not with her pregnancy hormones out of whack. The way he figured things, he didn’t have an option. Not with a growing family.
The doorbell rang, and Ben froze, expecting the baby to wake up. He pulled his hand away, careful not to cause any air turbulence. Put a real grenade in his palm and he’d deal with it. A crying infant with a loaded diaper? Now, that was a weapon he had no intention of handling.
“Daddy, the door!”
His breath caught, both from fear that she’d wake the baby and from the sound of Daddy from his daughter’s lips. He rushed out of the room, intent on forestalling the next ring of the bell.
“Mommy says to leave the door answering to her,” Maddie explained from behind a disaster of frosting and what he hoped was cake. Chad, perched on a stool next to her, was licking white goop off his hands.
Oh, boy. Zoe’ll be back soon. Zoe’ll be back soon.
“Make sure your brother doesn’t fall,” Ben said, pointing at Chad for emphasis. Man. At least they knew not to open the door to strangers.
Ben reached the front door and swung it wide, not in the mood for visitors, but half expecting Zoe’s parents. Grandma could handle the goop.
The ground rippled beneath his feet when he saw the uniforms. His adrenaline jacked into high gear.
He was overreacting. Maybe this time PTSD had won out. They were probably just door-to-door fund-raising. They still did that, right? He scratched impatiently at his forehead, irritated with himself for going into battle mode.
“Yes, officers?”
“Sir, is this the home of Zoe Corallis?”
Is this the home of Zoe Corallis?
An icy cold bled across his chest. He shook his head, refusing to listen to what instinct told him they were going to say. This wasn’t right. This was supposed to be home.
Ben’s chest heaved, and his knuckles whitened against the door frame. The officer’s words blistered in his ears. Is this the home of Zoe Corallis?Car accident... We’re sorry.
“No. No.” He shook his head emphatically, his words sounding like military orders even to himself. He fisted his shirt, where Zoe’s touch still lingered.
“Maddie, take Chad to Ryan’s room and stay there until I say.” He turned to be sure they obeyed and was met with stunned looks. “Now! Go!”
Maddie helped her brother down and they disappeared like frightened prey. Ben braced his hands against the door frame, trying to process what was happening, then, like the friends he’d seen pelleted with shrapnel, he buckled and hit the floor.
Zoe.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b30ecf6e-74a0-54df-8087-8d52c10ade8d)
Dear Diary,
They said writing to you would help. I’m not sure. I can’t tell anyone what I did. Not even you. If anyone finds out, I could go to jail...or hell.
HOPE ALWANGA STRIPPED off her bloody gloves and gown, then rushed from the room, but there was no escaping the merciless, coppery smell that had penetrated her sinuses. She pressed the crook of her elbow to her nose to shield against the added assault from the sweaty, desperate crowd still waiting to be seen and made her way to the back of the emergency room. A steady stream of patients was expected at any of Nairobi’s public hospitals—she saw it as added experience during her internship year—but this? This was pure chaos. And she’d been forced to do procedures she’d never done before.
She needed a minute to sit. Just one.
She collapsed onto a stool near a half-empty medical supply closet, leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.
“Go home.”
“No,” she said, jerking her head up and pushing off the stool. The floor tilted, and her hands shot out reflexively for balance. “I’m fine. I just needed a second.”
Zamir, her supervising doctor, put a gentle hand on her shoulder and urged her back onto the stool.
“Take that second and then go home. That’s an order,” he said.
“I haven’t eaten anything. That’s all it is.” That and no sleep.
“Don’t argue with your superior.”
Hope rolled her eyes. Zamir could never nail a harsh tone when it came to her. He was closer in age to her much-older brother, and, given that he’d grown up as a family friend, he often teetered between his role as her supervising medical officer and a caring friend. A lot. Only, he knew full well that Hope wasn’t interested in anything but focusing on her education and career. Hope brushed his hand aside and stood, taking a deep, readying breath.
“You need me here. We’ve lost two patients already this morning, and there has been no news of the rest of the staff coming back. I’m not going anywhere.”
For two days now, they’d been running on bare threads. It was bad enough that, under normal circumstances, Nairobi’s public hospitals were grossly underequipped. Only months into her internship, she’d already witnessed patients either dying or being turned away due to lack of medical equipment and supplies alone. Even children. God, the children broke her heart. Now, to add insult to an already critical situation, delayed government paychecks had spurred a strike by the majority of their medical staff. As an intern, her pay was barely worth counting anyway, but she wasn’t here for money. She was here to help, but this...this was like asking a gnat to save a drowning shrew.
She turned to head back toward the main area. Failure wasn’t an option. Not for an Alwanga.
“Hope, don’t be stubborn,” Zamir said, stepping in front of her. “You need to get some sleep or you’ll be useless. You’ll start to make mistakes. I can’t have that happen. Stay and I’ll write you up.”
Hope stopped dead in her tracks, then looked right at him. Her pulse drummed at the base of her throat.
“That man did not die because of me,” she said, pointing down the hall toward the patient they’d just lost. “I did everything—”
“I didn’t mean him,” Zamir said, shaking his head and holding up his palms. “You were brilliant in there. Hope, that man had been thrown from a boda-boda. He didn’t have a chance. Not with what we have here. But I need you to get some rest before I end up having to resuscitate you. Or before you do make a human mistake.”
Hope pressed her lips together and cringed at the mental image of Zamir resuscitating her. He’d love that, wouldn’t he? Zamir to the rescue. Always looking out for her. That was exactly why her parents loved him so much.
But he was right. Anyone who dared hitch a ride on Kenya’s motorcycle-styled taxis, manned by an array of notoriously reckless drivers, was gambling with death. She’d done what she could, stepping in to assist Zamir in the absence of more experienced doctors and nurses. But her trained immunity to the stench of violent death had failed her today. The lack of sleep really was doing a number on her senses, and the last cup of lukewarm coffee she’d guzzled hadn’t done much to help. She ran both hands back over her chin-length waves. She still wasn’t used to the texture after her mom insisted she have it relaxed a few weeks ago. “Fine,” she said. “Just for a few hours.”
“Don’t come back until tomorrow. I’ll find someone to help. Maybe the strike will be over by then,” he said, twisting his lips. Neither of them was holding out hope on that count. Even if it did end, the suffering and loss would have still happened. The supplies and equipment needed to better serve the majority of locals too poor to seek help from private hospitals or doctors—such as her parents—would still be an issue.
Hope nodded and walked away, too tired to argue anymore. What was the point? After finishing up her year here, she’d be moving on to her master of medicine in orthopedics before joining her parents’ private practice. That had always been the plan. All she was doing right now was rolling a boulder uphill.
She grabbed her things, made a quick call to Jamal, their family driver, for pickup and fled the building. A well-dented matatu packed with passengers revved its engine and missed her by two feet as it sped away from the curb. She gasped, then coughed out a lungful of exhaust fumes. And there was the reason she didn’t drive. One had to have a little daredevil and adrenaline addict in them to navigate the streets of Nairobi. Being a passenger was scary enough, but she trusted Jamal. He’d been her family’s driver since she was an infant, hired right after her parents had employed his wife as a housekeeper and cook, because at the time, with Hope’s medical needs and heart surgery, they’d needed the extra help.
She made her way to where she spotted Jamal waiting. The October sunshine cleansing her face made up for the emergency room “aromas” and exhaust fumes. Boy, was she glad their family home was outside the city. Although lately, she hadn’t spent much time there.
“Jambo,” she said, climbing in with the oversize woven shoulder bag she carried her life in: clinical books, notes, wallet, a few toiletries and probably a few items lost at the bottom that she’d forgotten about entirely.
“Jambo, Hope,” Jamal said, closing her door, then making his way around to the driver’s seat.
She quickly pulled off her socks and shoes and slipped her achy feet into the sandals she kept tucked under the front seat. She sighed and leaned back.
“Home?” Jamal asked.
“No, I need to stop at the university first. Then Chuki’s, then home.” She wouldn’t be able to truly relax until she dropped off inhaler samples for Chuki’s little sister. Her friend’s family had been struggling financially for a while now, and the least Hope could do was to try to help out. Especially with the strike going on.
Jamal glanced at her through the rearview mirror before turning his focus on the road.
“You look pale. Dalila told me to tell you she’s making some fresh mandazi just for you. She said not to tell your parents. She’ll have stew ready by the time they come home,” he said, winking at her through the rearview mirror.
“Mmm.” Hope closed her eyes and savored the mere idea of a warm homemade doughnut. Her only vice. Her stomach growled, and she pressed her hand against it. “Dalila is an angel,” she said, barely lifting her heavy eyelids.
“I know,” he said, grinning.
Hope gave in to sleep as she smiled back. Not much of a nap, given that the campus building where her brother’s research lab was located wasn’t far enough for the solid dose of REM sleep she needed. She woke up at Jamal’s prompting and dragged her groggy self toward the building and up the stairs to her brother’s genetics lab.
“Jambo,” she said, closing the door behind her and hanging her bag on the hook meant for his lab coat. She glanced over her shoulder, pretending not to notice the annoyed look on her brother Dr. Simba David Alwanga’s face. “Dr. Alwanga” to all his staff and colleagues—especially the ladies—but family always used his middle name, David. Hope, however, had called him Simba ever since she could talk, and she was the only person who could get away with it. He hated the fact that he shared a name with an animated movie character. She loved it.
“Jambo. No sandals in the lab. You know that,” he said.
She did know. Standard lab safety called for closed-toe shoes, something she’d gotten in the habit of wearing during medical school, especially when working with patients and blades or needles.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. Every cell on me needed to breathe,” she said, collapsing onto the swivel stool in front of the counter across from where he was labeling petri dishes. “Besides, I’m not staying long. Please tell me you got some.”
The corners of his mouth quirked up.
“I promised, didn’t I?” he said, still labeling and setting the dishes in organized rows.
She shook her head and chuckled at his smugness. Even as his sister, she had to admit he was a good-looking guy, on top of having a phenomenal reputation in the research world and a natural charisma women seemed to find irresistible. That actually worried her a bit. She had a hard time imagining him settling down, but at the same time, she didn’t want him trapped by some woman who only cared about his name and success. Men could be so blind.
“I do appreciate the fruits of your effortless labor, dear brother, but one of these days you’re going to meet your match, and she’s going to laugh at your smooth-talking ways.”
He flicked the on switch for the sterile hood that occupied a good five feet of the narrow lab’s right wall, set his tray of dishes under it, then leaned back against the counter and folded his arms.
“Smooth talking? It’s this face and the brains behind it,” he said.
Hope rolled her eyes. She knew he was kidding for her benefit. Mostly. It took about two seconds for his eyes to narrow.
“You look terrible,” he said.
“Did you really just compliment your looks, then insult mine? Just give me the samples,” she said, hoping to deflect his concern.
“Hope, trust me, not even mud could mask your beauty—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, tell me you haven’t tried that one in public,” she said, tossing her head.
“—but you really do look pale. And yes, that one got you these,” he added, pulling two sample-size boxes out of his lab coat pocket and handing them to her.
“Thank you!” Hope jumped off the stool, took the boxes and gave Simba a quick hug. “I’ll leave you to work.”
“Not so fast.” He guided her back to the stool and made her sit. So much for a quick exit. Hope knew when she was in for another lecture. A part of her understood the good place it was coming from.
As the youngest, she was stuck with the position of the family baby. Considering how “delicate” she’d been as a real baby, Hope was used to her every breath being scrutinized or worried over. Yes, it was love, but it was also irritating at times. At twenty-five, she knew how to get things done. So far, she’d been successful with every step of the career that her parents had carefully outlined with her. It was just that, as a woman, it seemed as if she always had to work harder for the same success and accolades as her male peers. Even her brother. So yes, she was tired.
“I know I look tired. I am. I just left hell, but I’m headed home right after dropping these off, so I’ll be fine. Jamal is waiting for me. Okay?”
Simba rolled another stool near hers and sat down. He pressed his lips together and looked off to the side before turning to her. There was no trace of his fun demeanor left. This was all lion king.
“Listen to me, Hope. This isn’t just about today. I’ve noticed you going downhill for months now.”
“I’m an intern at a public hospital. What do you expect?”
“I expect you to have good days and bad days. But be honest. You’re miserable, Hope. Your face is like an open book. I see determination and exhaustion, but never joy. I see no peace in you.”
Hope licked her lips and looked away, blinking several times to fight the burn of tears. He was right. Everyone always said that she had such an expressive face. Kind of a curse at times. No emotional privacy.
“Sometimes I feel as though I need to be autoclaved. It’s expected.”
“Sometimes you simply need a break. You’re making yourself sick and I’m worried,” he continued. “When was the last time you visited this friend of yours? Do you even still have other friends?” He pointed to the boxes Hope held.
He didn’t really know Chuki, and she wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t recall her name. The women that caught his eye were in related fields...and not from Chuki’s side of town. But he was right. It had been almost two months since she’d seen Chuki in person, and even that visit had been no more than thirty minutes. She shrugged. She couldn’t do this now.
“Exactly. You care about her, yet you hardly see her. Do you know why I’m successful at what I do?” her brother asked. “Because I love this.” He waved a hand at the lab. “This is my passion, Hope. I went after it because I wanted to. It satisfied me. Hard work? Yes, but there has to be balance.”
Hope straightened and took a deep breath.
“That’s enough, Simba. You can’t tell me what I want and don’t want to do.”
“No, but I can tell you that your health comes first. Your happiness comes first. Can you tell me that if you had one wish on earth, it would be to join Mama and Baba’s practice?” He sliced his hand through the air. “Do you even have a wish?”
The door to the lab swung open and Simba’s friend and colleague Dr. Jack Harper stepped in. Yes. A buffer.
“Hey, you two slackers. Stop sitting around and get to work,” Jack teased as he carried two racks of sample-filled vials to the far end of the lab near the centrifuge. He set them down and pulled a pipette out of a drawer. Simba gave her a “this isn’t over” look and went back to his work.
“Jack. I didn’t know you were going to be here today!” Hope said, perching her sandals on the bottom rung of the stool and swiveling it gently left and right. “How is everyone at Busara? How is little Pippa?”
“They’re great. And Pippa... That little monkey is growing fast.” His eyes sparkled like only a proud father’s could. “Anna and Niara told me to say hi to you and to tell you they’d be around for some supplies soon,” Jack said.
“Tell them I can’t wait.” She resisted the urge to ask when exactly “soon” would be. She really wanted to see them, but her brain tensed from the mere idea of how the logistics would work with her current schedule. Unless, maybe, if the strike ended.
Hope had met Jack and Anna a little over a year ago, when her brother was helping them sort out US citizenship and paternity paperwork for their daughter, Pippa, whom Anna had been raising in secret at Busara, her remote elephant research and rescue camp in the Serengeti. Anna had brought along her devoted friend Niara, and Hope had had a wonderful time taking Niara and her little boy shopping, while Anna and Jack had dealt with the embassy. At the time, Hope had almost been done with medical school. Jack, Anna and Pippa had come to dinner at their home a few times since then, after Jack had moved to Kenya and started collaborating with Simba, flying from Busara to Nairobi a few days a week. They’d all grown even closer as friends when Jack was crushed by the death of his sister in the States six months ago. He wasn’t the biggest talker, but whenever he mentioned something about his niece and nephews back home, it was clear to Hope that they meant a lot to him.
“Sandals?” Jack asked, raising one brow at Simba, as if surprised he hadn’t chased his sister out of the room yet.
“Not you, too. You’re more paranoid than my brother,” Hope said, hopping off the stool to get her bag. The room spun, and she took a step back, sending the stool rolling to her left. She dropped the sample boxes and grabbed the edge of the counter to regain her balance, but Simba was already holding her by the arm and Jack was over in seconds with a backed chair from the small adjoining office.
“Are you preg—” Jack asked, picking up the inhaler samples.
“No!” Hope and Simba said simultaneously, glaring at him in disbelief. Then Simba looked at Hope with scary-wide eyes.
“No!” she confirmed. Talk about an impossibility.
“Pretend I didn’t open my mouth,” Jack said with raised palms. He handed her the boxes.
“I just got up too quickly. I’ll be fine now.”
“That’s it,” Simba said. “You’re taking medical leave. Some time off.”
“Have you lost your mind? I can’t. Zamir needs me at the hospital. Half his staff are gone.”
“Zamir called me today, worried sick. I’m not the only one who’s noticed you withering away.”
Hope felt the rush of blood heat her face.
“He didn’t,” she said.
“He did. I know I’ll have his backing on this. He’ll sign whatever is needed. The internship will still be there, Hope. If that’s what you want. But you need to pause.”
Hope rubbed her hands down her face. No. This was impossible. People would ask questions and spread rumors that she’d failed somehow. She’d embarrass her parents. She’d disappoint them, and she couldn’t do that after all they’d sacrificed to save her life and to give her nothing but the best. Being where she was in her life wasn’t just hard work, it was a privilege. It was the grand plan. And taking off would be the equivalent of being ungrateful...or worse, incapable. At least that was what people would think.
Simba was right, though. Doctors really did make awful patients, because if she was honest with herself about how she’d been feeling lately, she’d be surprised if her adrenal glands hadn’t shriveled up.
God knew, she wanted to help people. She really did. But lately all she was feeling was frustrated and depleted. She didn’t dare admit to her family how many times the idea of escaping all their expectations and all her responsibilities had crossed her mind. Kicking back. Partying. Traveling places she’d seen in movies or read about in books. Freedom. How selfish was that? Witnessing poverty and disease everyday and then yearning for something different than the life she had? Some wishes were better left unspoken.
She closed her eyes and a tear escaped. She swiped it away.
“Um, can I get you something?” Jack asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Hope cleared her throat. She needed to get home. This was all too embarrassing.
“No, no. Thank you, Jack. Simba is making a big deal out of nothing.” She scowled at her brother. “And you’re embarrassing me here. Why don’t you walk me downstairs, Simba? You can buy your little sister a snack to eat in the car.”
He couldn’t say no to getting food in her system. She really didn’t want to argue in front of Jack, nor did she want to pass out before getting to the car. Jack slipped over to his vials and grabbed a pair of sterile gloves from a box, granting them a little privacy.
Simba paced in front of her like...well...like a lion.
“Hope, I know you’re worried about what people will think. What Mama and Baba will say. I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ll handle them. Don’t worry. No one will judge.”
Hope sighed. “Look. I’ll take a weekend or a week and stare at the walls at home. Will that make you happy?”
She waited for her brother to say something. The hum of the sterile hood and the occasional clink of Jack’s tubes were the only sounds in the lab. Simba scratched his forehead, then looked around the lab as though in search of a scientific reason to nix her suggestion. He drew back his shoulders and braced his hands on his hips.
“No. This isn’t about a few nights of sleep. This is about you not killing yourself and having regrets. I know our parents mean well, but the fact is, they’re from a different generation. Even I have a decade on you and can see that. You’re my sister. I want you happy. I want you to have perspective. Choices. Which is why—” he hesitated, scrubbing his jaw and exchanging glances with Jack “—I think you should take a few months and go to America.”
The chair grated the floor as Hope stood, the bolt of shock keeping her on her feet this time.
“What? Jack, tell him he needs an MRI.”
Jack held his sterile gloved palms up.
“I’m not getting in the middle. A wise friend once told Anna and me his favorite saying—‘when two elephants fight, it is the grass that gets trampled.’ In this lab, that would be me.”
“Something tells me you’re already in the middle. America? Really?”
Hope knew her brother had come through for Jack when Jack had discovered the daughter he didn’t know he had was being raised in Kenya’s wilderness. Had Simba cashed in on a favor?
“I’m helping you here, Hope,” Simba said. “Haven’t you always wanted to visit America? I’ve heard you talking to Anna. This is the perfect time. The perfect chance. Jack’s family needs some help.”
Jack tipped his head in agreement as he loaded the centrifuge.
“Don’t feel obligated or anything, but when Alwanga here told me you needed to get away, it did make sense,” Jack said. “Ben, my brother-in-law, could use help with the kids.”
Hope gripped the sides of her head, then grabbed her purse off the hook and turned back to face the crazy men. There’d be no fainting. Her blood had hit boiling point.
“You expect me to go from medicine to childcare? A nanny? That’s your idea of a getaway? A break?” she said, pointing at both of them.
“Whoa. Not really a nanny. Not in the official hired sense. Let’s not complicate visas here,” Jack said.
“He’s right. More of an exchange,” Simba said.
“Yeah. You all are like my family here in Kenya. Mine can be like yours while you’re in America. I think a visitor would be good for them right now. A distraction.”
Hope raised a brow.
“Okay, so distraction might be a bad choice of word, but you know what I mean.” Jack looked between Simba and Hope. “I should keep my mouth shut now.”
Hope closed her eyes. She did know what he meant. His parents had lost a child. His niece and nephews, their mother. And their father—Ben—had lost a wife. She sucked in her bottom lip. Was her brain so foggy that what they were suggesting had merit? An escape while saving face? She felt Simba’s hand close around her shoulder. His voice deepened, and his words came slowly and reassuringly.
“You help out, and in return, you have a place to stay, people I trust around you, so that I don’t have to worry about you alone in a foreign country. It works,” Simba said.
Hope wrapped her arms around herself.
“What if Chuki’s sister needs medicine when I’m gone?”
Simba sighed loudly.
“I’ll take it. Give her my number here in case there’s an emergency. Maybe I can convince the pulmonary doctor I got the samples from to see her once at no charge. If you go.”
Hope studied the braided leather of her sandals.
“I’ll sleep on it. But don’t go buying plane tickets or anything,” she said. She gave Jack a tired smile for his well-intentioned role of trampled grass. “Or making promises of help. We have another wise saying in Kenya. ‘Thunder is not yet rain.’”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_62bb9462-1588-573b-8001-47fcbd5561a9)
Dear Diary,
I had a bad dream again last night. This time, I couldn’t remember her face. I woke up so scared. I hate sleeping.
IF BEN HAD to listen one more time to the mechanical grind of “Frosty the Snowman” coming from the holiday jack-in-the-box Grandma Nina had gotten Ryan yesterday, he was going to explode. He scrubbed his hands across his short, prickly hair and dropped his fists against the kitchen table. A tangerine tumbled off the edge of the centered fruit basket and rolled onto the chair next to him. This was pointless. Who in the blasted universe could think through all that noise?
The laptop screen switched to screen-saver mode. He’d been staring at it that long without touching a key. He shoved his chair back and marched into the family room, where Chad, kneeling on the carpet in front of Ryan’s bouncy seat, was gearing up to crank that Jack Snowman again. Maddie was curled up against a sofa pillow watching some show starring rainbow-colored ponies that was set loud enough to drown her brothers out. The place looked as though toys had attacked by air, land and sea. And a friend of the real Jack was flying in today.
That was likely the reason he was irritable. That and the phone call from Maddie’s teacher letting him know that Maddie needed to be picked up at the nurse’s office and asking if he could return after school let out for a conference—especially since he’d missed the routine parent-teacher conferences scheduled at the beginning of the month. All in one day. The teacher meeting meant that he’d have to head straight to the airport from the school. Which had forced him to call Nina to see if she wouldn’t mind coming over to watch the kids. She’d jumped at the opportunity. Zoe’s mom had her heart in the right place, but he was about to get bombarded with the implied “you’re doing this all wrong” and “we know what your kids need more than you do” from all angles—his mother-in-law and the school. With his bad luck, this Hope person would add her two cents to the pot.
He’d blasted the idea of anyone living in his house to help. He was managing just fine. Most of the time. Even now, the idea of having a stranger underfoot, on top of everything else, didn’t sit well. However, Jack had made an effective point. Having live-in help would mean that he could focus more on developing his security-business plan. Plus, his mother-in-law would back off a little—or, as Jack put it, “worry less”—and see that he had everything under control. Maybe she’d get used to not hovering. Likewise, Ben wouldn’t keep enabling the situation by having to call her for emergencies. He’d resisted a few weeks ago, when Ryan had come down with another ear infection on parent-teacher conference day, a decision that was biting him today. In any case, if this Hope got on his nerves, then he could have her stay at his in-laws and keep them occupied from over there. Nina loved guests. Either way, he’d have more control...and some quiet time to sort things out in terms of work.
“Hey, guys,” Ben called over the exasperating ruckus. No reaction. He put two fingers between his lips and blew.
Maddie turned her cheek against the pillow and frowned at him before taking her time to pause her video. Chad stopped midcrank and looked up, and Ryan stared wide-eyed with his little hands securing his feet tight against his belly. Ben took the snowman from Chad, stuffed it into the box and snapped the lid with the sense of relief one got from defusing a bomb. This stay-at-home-dad stuff was really messing with his mind.
“That’s better. Mads, keep that down, would you?”
She aimed the remote at her brothers and pretended to lower their volume. Silent sarcasm. A bit of silence was exactly what he wanted, except from Maddie. He’d change a hundred stench-drenched diapers if it meant she’d say something. Anything, other than the sounds of crying or the shrill, closed-mouth scream she did when she’d been pushed too far.
He had no doubt the parent-teacher conference he had to leave for in a few hours was going to be about just that. Again. The school nurse had shown him Maddie’s handwritten note. One word: headache. They all knew there was more to it. Frustration twisted the muscles in his shoulders, and he cranked his neck to the side.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said to Maddie. “Chad, pick up some of these toys before Grandma gets here. A dime a dunk.”
He was not above bribery. After Zoe was killed, one of the school moms had stopped to check on him in the parking lot and had begun spewing advice. She’d assured him that bribery was a parent’s secret weapon. Everyone used it. Not everyone admitted to it.
Chad immediately began tossing toys into the giant wicker basket by the couch. Unfortunately, each dunk came with a creative sound effect, and his four-year-old had gifted lungs. Maddie slammed a second pillow over her ear as she zoned out in front of the TV.
Ben grabbed a chewable and slobber-proof picture book, gave it to Ryan and set his bouncy seat near Maddie. Yes, he’d resorted to the television babysitter a couple of times, but all those colors had to have some visual-stimulation benefits. Right?
“I’ll tell you what, man. How about you help me inflate a bed? You can push the button on the pump motor. It’s really loud.”
A superhero landed headfirst on the floor near the basket. Ouch.
“How loud?” Chad asked, wrapping one knee around the other as though he was holding it in.
“Jet-fighter loud.” Anything loud served as bribery with this kid.
“Like this?” The ensuing screech from Chad had Maddie pounding the pillow on her ear, Ryan whimpering and Ben wincing. It wasn’t going to take long for this Hope person to flee to Nina’s house.
“How about you go use the bathroom and meet me in your room to find out?”
“Okay!”
At least getting Chad in a different room would give Maddie some peace.
The doorbell rang, sending Ben’s nerves prickling up his spine like a row of merciless fire ants, a reaction that hadn’t subsided since Zoe’s death.
He rolled his shoulders and went to let Nina in. He’d specifically told her he’d leave the door unlocked, but apparently she’d forgotten.
He found her standing there with a big cardboard box in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I had to use my elbow on the doorbell. This box is a little heavy,” Nina said as she bustled past him. His nose twitched from an ambush of fruity hairspray.
Ben took the box from her and escaped to the kitchen. Nina made a beeline for the baby, after hanging her coat on the wooden rack by the door.
“So what’s in the box?” Ben said, closing his laptop and stacking his notes on top, then setting them in the cabinet under the microwave. Zoe’s mother did not need to see any of it.
“Oh, just some holiday decorations Zoe had stored in our basement because your garage was getting too full. I put a tin of chocolate-chip cookies on top. Go ahead and pull it out so you don’t forget,” she said. She unclipped Ryan and hugged him close to her shoulder, then slathered him with kisses and singsong words Ben couldn’t make out.
He pulled a red tin decorated with elves and snowflakes out of the box, noted the rest of the contents and quickly slapped the flaps of cardboard back in place.
“Not happening,” he said.
“Shh. Maddie’s asleep on the couch,” Nina said, turning off the TV and walking into the kitchen with Ryan in her arms. Her lips tightened. “Zoe’s favorite thing to do was to decorate the weekend after Thanksgiving. That’s in just over a week.”
“It’s not happening this year, Nina, so feel free to keep the decorations.” He carried the box back to the entryway and set it under the coatrack so that it wouldn’t be forgotten. She followed him.
“Let the kids have some fun, Ben. It could cheer Maddie up.”
He looked at the half-tidied living room.
“I’d say they’re having plenty of fun already. And no, I don’t think it’ll cheer Maddie up. We’re not decorating this year. They can enjoy the decorations at your house. But not here.”
“You told me yourself that Maddie’s counselor said to make as few changes as possible so as not to stress her more. Not letting her go through the holidays like she always did would be a mistake. One that she might not recover from.”
A direct hit. Nina and Zoe’s father, Eric, were known in the community for opening their hearts and home to others. Years ago they’d adopted Zoe’s younger brother Jack after he’d lost his parents to drug overdoses. And they’d even accepted Ben—albeit reluctantly—when Zoe had brought him home from college and announced that they were getting married. Ben had always wondered if Nina harbored a nugget of resentment toward him, believing he’d triggered Zoe’s decision to quit college to raise Maddie. Even if had really been Zoe’s call. Nina was a fiercely protective woman, and ever since Zoe died, she’d directed those energies at her grandkids. As if they didn’t have a dad, or at least one whose parenting methods and choices she agreed with.
He got the message loud and clear every time. She’d been around his kids over the years more than he had. She knew them better. He looked back toward the bedroom hallway. Empty. Chad had either taken himself to do number two in the bathroom, or was trying to pull the inflatable bed out of its box. As long as no little ears were sticking around the corner...
“Nina. You know how grateful I am for all you’ve done over the years—being there for Zoe and the kids, being here for us, helping me, especially with Ryan, over the past seven months. But with all due respect, this is my home, and they have a father. No decorating this year.”
“But Zoe would—”
“Exactly. This was her thing. She decorated for Christmas. And she’s not here. Out of respect for her, it’s not happening. What my kids need is to get through the rest of this year without any more pressure or sympathy or attention that does nothing but remind them of losing their mother. The stuff in this box will only emphasize what they don’t have anymore.”
Nina’s chin and brow rose simultaneously, and she turned her back to him. She carried Ryan, who was half-asleep and drooling like a pro on her shoulder, and laid him on his back in the playpen occupying the corner of the family room. End of conversation. Good.
Ben glanced at his watch. He hurried to check on Chad and found him on the potty buck naked and humming. Or was that moaning? And at what age was he going to stop stripping every time he used the bathroom?
“Daddy, I think I’m conti-pasted.” Constipated. Ben knelt down and rubbed Chad’s back. He should have known the packet of gummy lizards he’d given him in the car on the way to picking up Maddie had been a bad bribe.
“Uh, how about giving it a few more minutes? Here.” Ben picked a book from a stack of Chad’s favorites, which he kept in the bathroom for “encouragement.” “Read this. I have to go, but Grandma is here. Call out to her if no torpedoes launch. But not too loudly. Maddie’s napping.”
“Okay,” Chad said, taking the book.
Ben slipped into his room and grabbed his sweatshirt. Nina had picked up all the remaining toys and was checking Maddie’s backpack at the kitchen table.
“She hasn’t done her homework yet?” Nina asked, looking up from the student agenda.
“No. She can do it when she gets up, if she feels up to it.”
“But she was watching a video,” Nina said, putting the homework agenda back inside and propping the bag on a chair. Ben closed his eyes briefly and exhaled.
“She had a headache. Chad’s on the toilet. I really have to go.” He grabbed his wallet and keys. If he was going to make his appointment with the teacher, he needed to leave now.
“You go. I have everything covered. I really don’t mind helping. Especially since I guess I won’t get to help as much with Jack’s friend around.”
Oh, for crying out loud.
“You’ll be busy cooking for Thanksgiving and then the holidays. You wouldn’t want to deprive everyone, would you? Don’t worry, you’ll still see the kids,” he said, opening the front door.
“I hope so. Of course, you’ll bring them for Thanksgiving, then. Right? Even with losing Zoe, and with what Maddie is going through, there’s a lot to be thankful for.”
Ben’s temples started to pound, and his knuckles whitened against the doorknob. Everyone mourned in their own way, but being thankful was pushing it. She had to be in denial.
“Nina, I’ll bring them, but I’m not thankful for the drunk who killed my wife, and I’m not thankful for what my daughter is going through.”
“But you should be thankful that you’re here with your children and that they didn’t lose both parents. Be thankful that Zoe wasn’t still pregnant with Ryan when she was in that car.” Her eyes glistened and her voice hitched. “Ben, I need you all there to get through it,” she whispered.
Ben felt sucker punched. What if Zoe had still been pregnant? Bile burned his chest, and he swallowed the emotions churning with it. He nodded as he let go of the door. “Thanks for watching the kids,” he said. “Lock the door. It’ll be a couple of hours before I make it back.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you come home.” He could hear the door click shut behind him.
I’ll be here when you come home.
How many times had Zoe said those words over the years?
He double paced to the Expedition hogging the small driveway. After Zoe’s death, he’d bought a year-old model because of cost, but he wanted the equivalent of a tank to haul his kids around in.
At least maybe he could keep the rest of his family safe.
* * *
BEN SCANNED THE report card preview before him. It looked like a Fortune 500 company stock sheet. Numbers, letters, categories and subcategories. What happened to just giving students As, Bs and Cs? Or Fs... He quickly searched the columns, relieved when no Fs jumped at him.
Ms. Serval crossed her legs again and kept fiddling with her necklace. Did teachers really dress up that much for a school day? He wore his worst jeans just to get through a day with three kids. She had eighteen. Ben pretended not to notice when she flicked her hair back over her shoulder and leaned forward to pass him another sheet of paper, and tried not to pass out from her tear-gas perfume. Maybe that was what had triggered Maddie’s headache. What he really wanted was for the woman to turn off the background music in the classroom. It was driving him insane, but he didn’t dare give her a reason to get up and walk in front of him. Not in his precariously low position on the child-size chair he was in.
“What’s an N?” he asked.
“That stands for Needs Improvement,” said Ms. Serval.
“In class participation? Seriously? After our meeting at the start of the year with the school counselor, knowing what’s going on, did you really find it necessary to give her an N on her report card? I’m sure there are ways to show participation that don’t involve raising your hand and speaking.”
Ms. Serval pulled back and gave her skirt a tug.
“Well, she’s doing great academically, really, Mr. Corallis. I wanted you to have a chance to see her interim grades, since you missed the scheduled conference.”
“The office gave you my message about my youngest getting sick, right?”
“Yes, of course. I completely understand and sent you an email about rescheduling.”
She had? Crap. He had a vague recollection of one that he’d planned to get back to. And forgot.
“Please understand, the whole report card is computer based now,” she said, redirecting the conversation. “We have to input a grade or letter, and there are criteria we have to follow to be fair. I couldn’t put anything else, given the situation. I do understand the reason and I understand that she’s getting therapy for her selective mutism and to help her heal from her—your—loss. But it’s more than that. Lately, she acts as though she doesn’t care. As though she’s not paying attention. Zoning out in the afternoons. And once this week, when I tried to correct something on her paper, she simply crossed her arms and sat at her desk staring at her paper for almost an hour. She refused to respond to anything I said. By working, of course. I don’t mean verbally.”
“An hour?” he asked, adjusting his balance on the chair. Why had she let Maddie sit there that long without calling Mrs. Eggers, the school counselor, or him, for that matter? Ms. Serval gathered the report-card papers, then clasped her hands.
“Not quite an hour,” she said, tipping her chin, “but I was doing what I could. Mrs. Eggers wasn’t here that day. She covers other schools certain days of the week. I had to keep seventeen other students on task, Mr. Corallis. I tried to get her attention as I kept teaching, and hoped she’d come around on her own. It was so close to the end of the day that I didn’t want to encourage the behavior by letting her go home early.”
“I don’t think she was trying to be difficult or manipulative.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that at all.”
Then, maybe he needed a hearing aid. Ms. Serval scratched her cheek.
“It’s just that we’re almost through the first quarter and I’m worried that if she withdraws more, as opposed to showing improvement, it’ll take its toll on the rest of her school year. I realize you’ve been taking her to a therapist and thought you could share these observations. I’ll be honest. I spoke to Mrs. Eggers, and she mentioned the option of putting her in Special Ed if things got worse.”
“No.” Ben couldn’t help it, but the mention of taking Maddie out of a regular classroom so early in the school year felt like a threat. “I’m sure that would be appropriate and helpful for a lot of kids, but Maddie isn’t learning disabled. Nor is she autistic. This is different. She belongs in a regular class with her peers,” he said, standing up. Ms. Serval quickly followed suit.
“I agree...if she doesn’t regress. Which is why I thought that maybe more interaction with kids casually, outside school, might help. This is just a suggestion. Actually an idea her art teacher gave me. A lot of children respond to art, and I teach an art club at the community center on weekends. I’d be more than happy to work outside school hours with her. If you think she won’t be comfortable with a group, I wouldn’t mind coming over and spending time with her. Her brothers could even join us if they wanted.”
Wow. Ben’s neck itched. Zoe had been an avid artist and photographer and used to tell him how much she enjoyed volunteering her skills at the school. No doubt Ms. Serval knew that. What he didn’t feel like sharing at this moment was that they were between therapists. He’d stopped taking Maddie to the one she’d been seeing and was still in the process of finding someone who’d do a better job of connecting with her. Even with medical coverage, nothing was free, and he’d expected her to show improvement at the couple hundred an hour the therapist charged.
He hadn’t bothered with family counseling, in spite of everyone bringing it up. He figured the boys were still young, and he... Well, he’d survived loss before. He’d pulled through that year in college, when his mother, who’d single-handedly raised him down in Virginia on nothing but waitressing jobs, had passed away from an undiagnosed tumor. That was when Zoe, a photography student, had come up to him in the library and asked if she could take candid shots for a project. She’d said that he had a distant look she wanted to capture. Everything had changed after that moment. It was then that he decided to join the marines. He’d needed to prove himself. Make something of that latchkey child his mom had sacrificed for. And for Zoe.
He’d survived.
But he hadn’t been a kid at the time, and with the changes Maddie’s teacher had noted over the past few weeks, he had to wonder if the sessions had indeed been doing any good at all. Or had the changes for worse occurred because he’d been devoting more time to his computer lately?
“Thanks, but I’ve already arranged for help outside school.” Not exactly the kind she was talking about, but not exactly a lie, either. He didn’t have details beyond the fact that Hope was a medical intern, so for all he knew she could be specializing in pediatric psychiatry. “Let’s see how she does over the next month or so. After the holidays.”
“Of course. Oh...” Ms. Serval picked up a blue folder and textbook from the corner of her desk and handed them to him. “I put together the work she missed today and some of the worksheets we’ll be doing tomorrow, just in case it turns out she’s coming down with something. Thanks so much for coming in here today. Maddie really is a sweetheart. I’m so sorry for all you’re going through.” She reached out, so he shook her hand. It felt limp.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Ben said. Then he escaped for the peace and quiet of his SUV.
A solid night’s sleep would be better, but that would have to wait until he made it home and got the kids to bed. Hopefully Ryan would have a good night, but that was about as predictable as peace in a war zone. He swore as he put the gear in Reverse. He’d never inflated the guest bed in Chad’s room. If Chad fell asleep early... Well...if any kid could sleep through the pump noise...
He pulled into the airport parking lot at 1700 hours and found a spot two lanes and six cars north of the target entrance. The sun was setting, and the edge of the cold front they were expecting had definitely arrived. He scribbled Hope on the back of a sheet of paper he ripped from a notepad he kept in the console for whenever Maddie forgot hers, and headed for baggage claim thirteen. He stopped briefly to check the monitors in case changes had been made since he’d called to check on the flight earlier that afternoon. Thirteen it was.
The hustle and bustle of people headed their own way, doing their own thing, was nice. Like being camouflaged in a crowd. He needed a few minutes of feeling invisible today, but traffic had made him later than he’d hoped.
He waited for a passenger shuttle car to drive by and then crossed over to the carousel. He crumpled the paper in his hand. Hope was hard to miss. Other passengers had already left with their luggage, save for a family of four and a man in a suit on his cell phone. The slender woman he was certain was Hope stood about five-five or six and wore a bright orange scarf that framed her face like a headband, holding back a mass of dark curls. She wore flat sandals, one of those flowing ankle-length skirts in a bright pattern and an orange sleeveless top. As a marine, he was trained to register details. If she didn’t have a sweater on her, she was in for a surprise. She stayed close to two green suitcases as she scanned the opposite direction, while alternating between fidgeting with one of her big hoop earrings and gripping an oversize woven purse against her side.
“Hope Alwanga?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her hand pressed against her chest. No doubt she was relieved she hadn’t been forgotten, alone in a foreign airport.
“Ben Corallis.” He extended his hand, and she shook it firmly. Her full lips spread into a bright smile.
“Ben. It’s so wonderful to meet you. Jack speaks so highly of his family.”
Ben nodded, releasing her hand slowly, then stuffed his into the front pockets of his jeans.
“We miss him around here.” Jack was one of the few guys he’d hung around with whenever he was on leave. He wished he still lived here. “These your only bags?” he asked, in case the airline had lost any.
“Yes.”
“You don’t happen to have a sweater you want to pull out of one of these before we hit the road, do you? It’s a little chilly out,” he said. He wasn’t offering his sweatshirt. No one wore his favorite marine sweatshirt. Either Jack should have warned her about the weather or she should have checked her destination weather on the internet.
“Oh, I have one here.” She reached into her shoulder sack and dug out a wad of cloth so small, he knew it wouldn’t be warm enough. She set her bag between her feet while she slipped it on. Thin as an old undershirt. “I could use some cool, fresh air, actually,” she said.
“First time in a plane, huh?”
“Yes,” she said, closing her warm brown eyes briefly. “I’m going to try to forget that I have to do this again in order to get home.”
He picked up her luggage as she slung her bag back onto her shoulder.
“I can get one of those,” she offered.
Not likely, unless she was packing solid muscle in those thin arms. Her suitcases felt like a few elephants had stowed away.
“I have them,” Ben said. “Car’s this way.” He headed toward the glass doors closest to where he’d parked and heard a gasp behind him when the second set of doors opened, letting in a gust of wind. He looked over his shoulder. She slapped her hands down on her skirt to keep it from blowing and hunched her shoulders. Welcome to a Pennsylvanian cold front.
He glanced at the parking lot and gave in. He really wanted to get home, but she was Jack’s friend and his guest. He backed up enough for the doors to close.
“Go back in and I’ll bring the car around. Just keep an eye out for a silver Expedition,” he said, wondering belatedly if she knew what an Expedition looked like.
“No, no. I’m fine. It just took me by surprise.” She fisted the sides of her skirt so it wouldn’t blow. “Lead the way.”
Well, okay, then. Ben headed out. Dark had settled, and the wind chill was pretty uncomfortable, even for him. And this was only November. She wasn’t going to last three months. He let her into the car before loading her bags into the back, then jogged around to the driver’s side and got in. Hope’s laugh caught him off guard. He’d have expected the cold to have irritated her more than the plane trip.
“I’d say I got my fresh air,” she said, rubbing her arms.
That was one way to think of it.
“I guess you did. Seat belt,” he said, nodding toward her shoulder strap and waiting for her to buckle up.
He cranked the heat as soon as the engine was running. The dash read forty-three degrees. Likely in the thirties with the wind factor. He backed out of the parking spot and hit the road.
“Just wait till our first negative temperature day,” he said. “Fahrenheit,” he added, knowing she’d be used to Celsius. He’d spent enough time overseas to do the conversions in his head. “It feels close to two or three degrees Celsius out there.”
Her eyes widened.
“Wow. Twelve is cold in Nairobi. We’re actually warming up this time of year. My brother won’t believe that I braved this in sandals,” she said, grinning.
“Might have been more tolerable a few hours ago.” She was enjoying this? First-time trip. New country. Maybe adrenaline was warming her up.
“Jack suggested that I wait and buy a few warm items here, since nothing in our stores was suitable for your winters,” she said.
“Makes sense,” he said. He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, unsure of what else to say. He couldn’t talk about the weather the entire way home. How was this supposed to work for months? He hated gray areas, and he wasn’t quite sure how to treat her. Child-care helper or family friend?
The silver bracelets on her wrist sounded like wind chimes every time she reached up to touch her earring. She rubbed her hands in her lap and looked out the window. There wasn’t much she could see from the freeway in the dark. He looked at the dash clock, wishing the airport was closer to his house.
“Thank you,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m...I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m grateful for being invited into your home. I’ll do what I can to help while I’m here.”
Ben scratched his jaw, then settled his hand back on the wheel. He couldn’t really take credit for inviting her, though Jack had insisted that Ben would be doing both him and his friend’s sister a huge favor. Jack had never asked him for anything before. He’d said her family wanted to be sure she’d be safe...with good people. Her brother did take the phone and speak to him briefly during one of the calls. Sounded like a sharp guy. Joked about keeping her safe, especially from men. Despite his tone, Ben knew he wasn’t joking. He couldn’t blame him. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Hope Alwanga could easily land a job as a fashion model and never make it back to her medical career. She’d be turning a head or two during her stay.
“Jack told me you’re in medicine. Pediatrics?” he asked, refocusing.
“No. Well, yes, a few young patients at the emergency room I’m interning in right now, but mostly adults. Eventually, I’ll join my parents’ orthopedic practice. They work a lot with professional athletes.”
Whew. She came from a family of docs. And money, or so it sounded, if they were working with athletes. And she was here, of all places, to help out with his kids? He’d been told that she was stressed, but stable, and needed a break...but, shoot, a break to him would be the Bahamas.
“So you must have a lot of little nieces or nephews,” he said. “Younger siblings?” Some sort of experience with watching kids?
“No. I’m the youngest. It’s just my older brother, Simba—Jack’s friend—and me. I can’t wait to meet your children, though.”
This time Ben laughed.
Forget a few months. Hope wasn’t going to last a day in his house.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_356a7aca-093e-5834-8977-4c71a834b388)
Dear Diary,
Sometimes I close my eyes so that everyone will leave me alone. But I’m not really asleep. I hear everything. They fight because of me.
HOPE HAD WORKED with enough patients to know how to read body language, an important skill, given that many “cushioned” or omitted facts in their medical history or medication compliance out of sheer embarrassment. The hesitations. The flinches. Nervous laughter. Jack and Simba had assured her that she’d be doing Ben a favor and that he’d jumped at their idea of having her stay at his place and help with his kids for three months. But he sounded much more skeptical than enthusiastic. She wasn’t so sure the man wanted her in his house any more than she wanted to be in anyone’s way.
Oh, but this? She leaned her head back against the seat and looked out the window. Simba was so right. She needed this break. The good parts and the not so good, like over twenty-four hours of planes and layovers. She could have done without that. But she’d never in her life felt so free. This was spectacular. Ever since they’d exited the freeway, she’d been entranced by the dazzling lights that trimmed shops and street lamps. It was like a fairy tale. A scene out of a movie. Sure, a few places in Nairobi would set out some decorations at Christmas, but these were lights on steroids by comparison. She’d never seen anything like it.
“We’re here,” Ben said, startling her. He turned left onto a street lined with houses separated only by a few meters. Even in the dark, the glow from windows and entry lights revealed a well-manicured neighborhood.
“Oh. My. Gosh,” she said, gaping at the house he approached. Forget fairy tale. After reading about it in stories, she now knew what “Santa’s workshop” really meant. And she was going to get to live in it. Her pulse picked up. Chuki wasn’t going to believe this.
The house looked as if all the colors of a Masai village had been brought to life and showered with Serengeti stars. A sleigh with St. Nicholas—or Santa Claus dressed the American way. Giant wrapped gifts held by elves in green hats. Trees made of nothing but white lights. Even the roofline and windows sparkled.
“Christmas is celebrated quite early here,” she said. “Your children are so lucky.”
“Not celebrated yet, just decorated. The commercial side of things. Thanksgiving comes first in the US,” he said, turning left into the driveway across from Santa’s workshop. He shoved the gear into Park and turned off the ignition. “This is my house.” He sank back in the driver’s seat. Hope looked through the windshield.
No lights. Nothing. Save for a lit doorway. Hope quickly stamped out the hint of disappointment she had no right to feel. She smiled.
“It’s beautiful.” She unbuckled her seat belt and put her hand on the door.
“Wait a sec,” Ben said, squinting from the reflection of lights in the car mirror. “I don’t know if Jack told you, but my daughter... Maddie... She doesn’t—”
“I know,” Hope said, placing her hand on his arm. It was a reflex. Reassurance. Sympathy. Her bedside manner. But her fingers warmed, and she pulled back when he stared at her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m aware and understand,” she said, hoping the words explained her touch.
“Okay.” He got out and went around back. Hope cringed when the rush of cold came through his open door. She took a deep breath, then exited, hurrying up the flagstone path. Her teeth chattered as she rubbed her arms and waited for him, but she didn’t mind too much. She had a great view of the display across the street from here.
The front door swung open before he made it. A woman in beige pants and a blue tunic-length sweater scanned her from head to toe.
“You must be freezing,” she said, ushering her in. “I’m Ben’s mother-in-law. You can call me Nina.”
“Nice to meet you, Nina,” Hope said, shaking her hand. “I’m Hope.”
“Yes, I think either Jack or Ben mentioned it. It’s a lovely name. Is it short for anything?”
Hope raised her forehead and shrugged with a smile.
“No, just Hope.” She knew what Nina meant by the question. She was expecting a more ethnic name. Her mother was of Luo descent and had decided to combine their common practice of giving their children both a Western name and a Luo name, based on the events of the day of birth. She’d been named only Hope, because it was what her parents were clinging to when she was diagnosed with a hole in her heart as a baby.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look just like that beautiful actress... What’s her name? She won an award... Lupita something,” she said, waving her finger, trying to make the connection.
“I know who you mean. I’ve been told we look like sisters, and I’m thinking of cutting my hair very short like hers. It seems so much easier.”
“You’d be twins for sure. Come on into the living room,” Nina said just as Ben pushed through the door, maneuvering one suitcase inside and setting it against the wall. He took a stack of what looked like mail out from under his arm and set it on a wooden console, then quickly retrieved the second suitcase from where he’d left it on the front landing and kicked the door shut with his heel.
“I take it you’ve met,” he said, looking up as he took his keys out of the pocket of his jeans and set them next to the mail.
“Of course we met,” Nina said, brushing her hand through the air. “Unfortunately, I need to run or Eric is going to get grouchy. I spoiled that man, and now he can’t even fix his own dinner. Listen, Ben. I made sure Maddie’s homework got done, so you’re set for tomorrow morning. No sign of a fever or anything, but I sent her to take a shower. Chad was on the potty for quite a while before he went. I made a pot of vegetable minestrone for dinner, and everyone has eaten—”
“I’d ordered pizza before leaving and told them to have it here at five-thirty. Wasn’t it delivered?” Ben asked. Nina cocked her head and tucked her graying chin-length hair behind her ear. Hope felt like a third wheel all of a sudden, not sure if she should sit on the sofa or keep standing. She desperately needed to use the restroom, but the insistent line of Nina’s mouth and twitch at Ben’s temple kept her from interrupting.
“I put the pizza boxes in the fridge. I really didn’t mind cooking,” Nina said, grabbing her purse. “Oh, Chad said that you promised he could help with inflating that bed, so we went ahead and took care of it. He’s playing on it right now, and Ryan is sleeping. He drank his entire bottle beforehand.”
“Great,” Ben said, cranking his neck to the side and back. “You took care of everything perfectly. I better walk you to your car before Eric wonders what happened to you.”
“Well, maybe I should take a few minutes and go over some kid things with Hope and—”
“Nina. I’ll take it from here,” he said, putting his hand on Nina’s back to guide her out. “I’ll be right back, Hope. Make yourself at...comfortable.”
Not at home.
“I really need to use the restroom, if you don’t mind,” she said, slipping the tote handles off her shoulder.
“First door on your left is a powder room,” Ben said.
“Nice meeting you, Hope,” Nina called as Ben followed her out the front door. As the door closed, Hope overheard her telling Ben that she was hurt that he wouldn’t be needing her anymore. Clearly there were undercurrents here she hadn’t anticipated.
But all she cared about right now was peeing.
* * *
BEN LOCKED THE door behind him, rubbed his face with his hands, then exhaled. Why did he let everything Nina did or said get to him? He toed off his sneakers and turned. Hope was staring at him. For the next three months, the only place he could be alone in his house was going to be his bedroom.
“I, um, don’t know what you’d like me to do,” she said.
“Oh.” He patted his jeans. What did he need her to do? He’d never had a houseguest or a live-in anything. Granted, he’d spent most of his married life deployed. “You probably want to settle in, right? Or are you hungry?” He was starving as if there was no tomorrow. No way soup was going to cut it for him. The mere thought of vegetable soup annoyed him. It was the way Nina had said it. As if he was to blame for Chad being plugged up and Maddie not feeling well. As if he fed them takeout three meals a day. They were veggie pizzas, for crying out loud. A complete meal. He’d eaten his fair share of restaurant leftovers growing up and he was doing just fine. Then again, maybe it was a good thing there was healthy soup to offer Hope. Her being in medicine and all.
“I’m famished,” she said. “I’d love a shower, too, whenever you are all done with the bathroom.”
“Let me check on the kids real quick. If my daughter isn’t using it, it’s yours. I have my own in my room.” He glanced around the place, from living room to kitchen. “Sit wherever you like. I’ll be right back.”
Ben hurried down the hall. Things might not feel so weird if the kids came out. Buffers. He could hear Maddie still puttering in the bathroom at the end of the hall. He cracked open Ryan’s door. Sound asleep, but the telltale gurgling sound of congestion wasn’t good. Please get through the night, buddy.
“Chad?” He crossed the hall and pushed open Chad’s door. The kid had a slightly bigger room than Ryan and Maddie, but Maddie liked the way hers overlooked the backyard and had a window seat. It made sense to set up the inflatable bed in Chad’s room for that reason. Plus, he wasn’t sure how Maddie would take to a stranger in her room, and nights would get awkward if he went in to check on Ryan and Hope was sleeping there. This way, maybe they could alternate night calls if Ryan was teething or had another ear infection. But even with its extra room, he couldn’t see how those two suitcases were going to fit. He hadn’t even thought about emptying a few of Chad’s dresser drawers, but maybe tomorrow he’d clear the top two that Chad couldn’t get into.
“Daddy!” Chad leaped up from zooming cars along the inflated mattress set in a corner of the room. He hugged Ben’s leg. “I want to sleep on that tonight.”
“Sorry, bud, but remember what I told you about having a visitor? She won’t be able to fit in your car bed.”
“But I like this one,” he said, throwing himself on it and spreading his arms and legs.
“Come say hi. We’ll talk about this later.”
“But—”
“Now, Chad. You can have a snack if you’re still hungry. Come on.”
Chad rolled off the bed and stomped past Ben. Hope was sitting at the breakfast table, digging in her bag.
“Hope, this is Chad.” Good luck with him.
“Hi, Chad,” she said, beaming. She set her bag aside. “How old are you?”
Chad twisted his body around Ben’s right leg and then looped around the left in a figure-eight. Ben picked him up and set him on his feet.
“Say hello to Miss Hope.”
“Hello, Miss Hope. Could you sweep on my car bed?”
Hope kept smiling but gave Ben an inquisitive look.
“I don’t have a guest room. There’s an inflated mattress in Chad’s room he’s taken to. The novelty will wear off soon. I’m sorry it’s not a real bed.”
“It’s no problem.” She leaned her arms on her lap and brought her face closer to Chad’s level. “I think your bed is special just for you, but I don’t mind if you want to take naps on mine in the afternoons.”
“Good luck with that.” Ben chuckled. Her smile widened. She had a really nice smile.
“Are you living with us because my mommy’s body broke?” Chad asked.
Ben’s chest cramped. Hope’s smile faded, and the corners of her eyes creased in sympathy.
“I’m only visiting for a while and helping out because everyone who lives in a house should help out. Right?” Chad grimaced. If she got him to nap and help out more with his own cleanup, she’d be a miracle worker, Ben thought. “And then I’ll go back to my home on the other side of the world,” she said.
Ben nodded and knelt down by Chad. He appreciated that Hope had set the stage, making sure his son knew she’d be leaving. In a planned way. Not unexpected, the way their mom left. The idea of his kids actually getting attached to her hadn’t crossed his mind when her visit was arranged. It was just a few months. But what if they did grow to like her and then lost her? He cursed to himself. Given the new situation, he realized that he really did need to find a new therapist for Maddie.
“Is that where my mommy is? Are you going to trade places again, so my mommy will come back from the other side of the world?”
Hope pressed her fingers against her lips, and her eyes glistened.
“I’m sorry. I said the wrong thing,” she said, shaking her head at Ben.
“No, it’s not you,” he said. God knew, Chad had a way of turning anything Ben said upside down, inside out and backward. He’d been told and had read on the internet about how kids Chad’s age and younger perceived death. How literal they were about everything. Chad often asked when Zoe would be coming back, a question that upset Maddie every time. Ben had started keeping a doorknob pick on his dresser after she began locking her bedroom door when Chad wouldn’t stop asking about their mom.
He ruffled Chad’s hair.
“Hey, buddy. Remember that I told you mommy’s not coming back? She’s not on the other side of the world. She died and went to heaven.”
Chad’s shoulders rose and sank. “Okay. Can I have some pizza? Grandma said it would conti-paste me, even if I pooed the size of a dinosaur when you were gone.”
“Then, I’d say you earned a piece. Grab a seat. You can have a slice, then it’s bedtime.”
Hope’s lips parted as Chad climbed onto the chair next to hers. She was either speechless at how fast Chad switched gears or afraid to say anything more to the kid.
“Let me help you with the pizza,” she said.
“I’m assuming you’d prefer hot soup. Especially after freezing out there. Nina is a great cook. I’m sure it’s excellent. And healthy. So don’t let the fact that we’re eating pizza sway you,” he said, pulling two pizza boxes out of the fridge. He didn’t mind cold pizza for breakfast, but this was dinner. He wanted them hot. He opened a cabinet and grabbed a microwaveable dish.
“My parents always insist on home cooking. It’s probably why I suffer from fast-food rebellion. And for the first time, my parents are too far to hover.” Hope stood at the end of the counter, sucking in her lower lip and gazing at the slices he was placing on a dish.
“You want pizza?” he asked. She was around twenty-five, wasn’t she? And her parents still hovered? His mom had never had time to hover, though he imagined that Zoe’s parents probably had.
Hope crinkled her nose. “I just traveled clear across the planet. Doesn’t that count for earning it?” she said, winking at Chad. “I love pizza. You wouldn’t deny me my first slice on American soil, would you?”
Ben grinned. “You can have as much as you want.”
He took the pot on the stove and popped it into the fridge, then started the microwave.
“I’m going to check on Maddie. Help yourself when it’s ready, just make sure it’s not too hot before Chad digs in,” Ben said.
The bathroom door was ajar, and the light was off in it. He knocked on Maddie’s door. No answer.
“Hey, Mads. There’s pizza if you want. I’m coming in, okay?” He tried giving her privacy, since she was a girl, but sometimes it was tough not knowing whether to let himself in or not. He opened the door slowly, giving her time to shove the door shut if she was dressing. “Mads?”
She was already in bed with her eyes closed. Her bedside lamp was on, but he knew she didn’t like the room totally dark. He touched her forehead. It felt okay. He walked over to her closet, turned the light on, then left its door open. He clicked the lamp off so the light wouldn’t be on her face all night. Homework done or not, he was going to let her stay home tomorrow.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_7c4f8e5b-6d11-57a4-a7cb-65036dd448b8)
Dear Diary,
I wish I didn’t ever have to go to school again. Sara keeps talking about her new puppy. Daddy said no to the one Mommy got. It was supposed to be a present for him staying home. I think he wants to go away.
HOPE COULD NOW add jet lag to her list of worldly experiences. She needed caffeine. The last time she’d made her own coffee, she’d used a French press, not a drip machine like Ben had, but she knew how to follow instructions. She set up the filter and coffee grounds she’d found in the cabinet overhead, then turned on the coffeemaker. To her relief, it gurgled and started to fill. Thank goodness Ben didn’t mind ordering take-out food. Actual cooking was beyond her abilities.
She padded quietly to where one of her suitcases still sat against the wall by the entry. Ben had carried the one that had her clothes and necessities in it to Chad’s room last night. This one would get emptied today. It was mostly filled with gifts Anna and Jack had asked her to take to the kids for them. What weighed it down were the medical texts her father told her she should take along, so that her brain didn’t atrophy.
She got down on her knees, unlocked the suitcase and leaned the upper half back against the wall. Cooing came from a white baby monitor set on the end table next to the couch. Did Ben have another unit in his room? Or did he forget this one here last night?
A blur of orange caught her eye as something—or someone—scurried from the hall and disappeared into the kitchen. Two big eyes spied on her from behind the counter. Hope pretended not to notice and instead began taking gift-wrapped items out and carefully setting them down on the carpet next to her.
“Hmm. I think this present is for the baby, and this one, I was told, had to make it into the hands of the older boy.” She rummaged as if she’d lost something. “Did I forget the present Jack and Anna said was for their niece?”
A little girl Hope knew had to be Maddie inched closer. The pumpkin-dotted hem of her orange nightgown skimmed the floor, and she hugged a stuffed monkey to her chest. Tangled hair framed her delicate face.
“I see I’m not the only one up early,” Hope said. “Good morning. I’m Hope, one of your uncle Jack and auntie Anna’s friends. You must be Maddie.”
The girl gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“I had better find the present they sent you, then. They’d never forgive me.” Hope pulled out the package she knew was Maddie’s and held it out. Maddie got down on the carpet, set her monkey aside and began to unwrap. Her eyes lit up at the wooden keepsake box carved with elephants.
“You like it?” Hope asked. Maddie gave her a silent yes.
The cooing from the monitor turned into a staccato cry. Hope was going to assume that Ben forgot the monitor. They hadn’t really gone over how things would work. How much she’d help versus getting out on her own to enjoy her time here.
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Rula Sinara
Does following her passion mean losing her way? Marine Ben Corallis is an expert at facing death, but nothing comes close to the terror that grounds him when his wife is killed in a car accident the day he returns from duty. He's left to raise an infant, a toddler and a ten-year-old girl who hasn't uttered a word since her mother's death.It's hard not to care for the widowed marine with three young children. Yet he's still grieving, too burdened with guilt to fall in love again. And Hope Alwanga's future as a doctor awaits her on the other side of the world, in Nairobi. If two such opposites can't agree on a common country, how can they ever create a safe place to call home?
Does following her passion mean losing her way?
Marine Ben Corallis is an expert at facing death, but nothing comes close to the terror that grounds him when his wife is killed in a car accident the day he returns from duty. He’s left to raise an infant, a toddler and a ten-year-old girl who hasn’t uttered a word since her mother’s death.
It’s hard not to care for the widowed marine with three young children. Yet he’s still grieving, too burdened with guilt to fall in love again. And Hope Alwanga’s future as a doctor awaits her on the other side of the world, in Nairobi. If two such opposites can’t agree on a common country, how can they ever create a safe place to call home?
“I’m having a hard time picturing Christmas trees growing in Kenya.”
Hope stepped away from the corner where she’d been leaning against the wall, watching them.
“Other than hunting our plastic one out of storage, I have not had a real tree-hunting experience, but I think you and the kids should go by yourselves.”
What? She was still upset with him?
Maddie took Hope’s hand and tugged her even closer to Ben. She wanted her to come, too. For an entirely different reason, he was sure.
Ben started to reach out to take Hope’s hand himself. He wanted to pull her out the door. Make her come, because he needed her to be there. He was taking the kids to get a tree because a crazy voice in his head was telling him it was the right thing to do. Whether it was going to be a good thing, he didn’t know for sure. What if being in that tree lot proved too hard to take and he ruined the night for his kids? He wanted her there when he helped the kids hang all the ornaments Zoe had collected over the years. How could he get through that without Hope there to pick up the pieces if he broke down?
But maybe she didn’t want to pick up the pieces.
Dear Reader (#ulink_07471ece-c5d8-500c-be7d-1eebb653ab34),
Silence is something that—as a mother of three boys and an outrageous number of pets—I’ve begged for at times. Anything for a little bit of soothing peace and quiet in which to work, think (and actually be able to hear my thoughts) and decompress. But, as a mother, I also know firsthand how frustrating and destructive silence can be, especially for a child.
Although my kids have come a long way, two of them struggled with being able to cope with and express overwhelming emotions when they were younger. As a result, they’d shut down. The teacher calls, school visits, hours of trying to get them to open up...I’ll never forget any of it.
It’s heartbreaking for a parent not to be able to get through to their child. For my kids, the silence would last from endless minutes to hours. But for Maddie, the young girl in this story, it has gone on for months...triggered by the tragic loss of a parent. I’m so grateful that my kids didn’t have the same diagnosis or trigger as Maddie, but nonetheless, it still comes down to internal suffering. An inability to cope. A cry for help. And whether it’s a child or adult withdrawing, silence can be a dark, stressful and lonely place...until love and trust finally break through.
I hope you enjoy this story of how two people suffering on opposite sides of the world discover each other, rediscover the power of love and family and, together, show a little girl that it’s okay to be happy again.
My door is always open at rulasinara.com (http://rulasinara.com), where you can find links to my blog, all the places I hang out and more, so feel free to drop by!
Rula Sinara
After the Silence
Rula Sinara
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
RULA SINARA lives in Virginia’s countryside with her husband, three boys and zany but endearing pets. When she’s not writing or doing mom stuff, she loves organic gardening, attracting wildlife to her yard (cool bugs included) or watching romantic movies. She also enjoys interviewing fellow authors and is a special contributor for Happy Ever After on USATODAY.com. Her door is always open at rulasinara.com (http://www.rulasinara.com) or awritersrush.blogspot.com (http://www.awritersrush.blogspot.com).
To each of you who has helped a child to heal and rediscover joy.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_57c3af09-c065-582c-bb77-11fc2ce913d8)
Infinite thanks to my author sisters for their support and shared stories of surviving deadlines when life throws a few curveboulders...and to my reader friends for your generous and beautiful words about my first book in this series, The Promise of Rain. You all kept me going.
And, as always, thank you, Victoria Curran, for your patience, incredible insight and for encouraging me to be cruel to my characters. Plain and simple, you make me a better writer. I’m blessed to have such a gifted editor and teacher to guide me.
Contents
Cover (#uddfd58f4-9613-52b0-8c1a-4ada639767c1)
Back Cover Text (#ub718ed3c-d9bf-51f9-b0d6-70749920511c)
Introduction (#u91287761-0dcf-510d-b7b2-fe6ce9df2f12)
Dear Reader (#u65bd9e5f-363d-5b9d-8a2e-728585df6dce)
Title Page (#uf40a1904-3a12-5254-b309-2553f185e4e2)
About the Author (#uca82b396-bb10-531f-a969-651bb2039864)
Dedication (#uf65cbd30-8102-5062-b684-b01f7f7fc747)
Acknowledgments (#u3ff83144-0f4f-5c9f-9a46-874c28d33028)
PROLOGUE (#u7f170235-05b3-5d66-97c7-b2506da6096e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u52c4093d-2f30-522c-b6e2-000aeb706ebc)
CHAPTER TWO (#u9d350449-49bb-548f-ae53-25ed551b6b47)
CHAPTER THREE (#u8f154af7-8efe-57d7-a80b-5f6b0b594001)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u43df0a92-99b5-5643-a7b8-8927746143d6)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_3a8dd918-576b-5f1a-87a0-391643fcde94)
ZOE CORALLIS HELD her breath as the door to the baby’s room clicked shut. She counted five seconds before daring to tiptoe away, cleared a good five feet before exhaling, then scurried to the kitchen.
“Mommy, I finished copying down my spelling words and the oven just beeped,” Maddie said, jumping off the kitchen stool and stuffing her notebook into her brown-and-pink gingham backpack. “Did you want to check them?”
Zoe chuckled as she turned off the oven timer before it could ring and wake up Ryan. Maddie, knowing full well there wouldn’t be homework checks this afternoon, already had her backpack zipped up.
“I trust you, sweetie,” she said as she pulled two round pans of Ben’s favorite banana cake out of the oven and set them on the stovetop to cool. She dipped her head, teaming up with the effervescent light spilling through the window, and scanned the counter for rogue crumbs. Spotless.
“Is he almost here?” Maddie asked.
Zoe glanced at the oven clock for the hundredth time since morning. Three-fifty. Which meant the cream-cheese frosting and strawberries weren’t going to make it onto the cake until after Ben arrived, and she’d wanted everything perfect and ready. After ten months of hell, he deserved to come home to peace and quiet. And Zoe knew how much having the house calm and clean helped him recover from experiences he never discussed and she didn’t dare imagine.
Zoe held Maddie’s cheeks and kissed her pert little nose. “Almost.” She gave Maddie’s two dark braids a playful tug, then took her backpack from her hand. “I’ll put this away. Do me a huge favor and go help Chad pick up his toys so Daddy doesn’t trip on them.”
“Okay.” Maddie tucked her stool under the counter, then cupped her hands against her chest. “Can we tell him about the puppy yet?” she whispered. Chad was too young to be trusted with a secret, and Maddie was nearing bursting point, not being able to share their plans to raise a puppy. Zoe was so exhausted today that she had fleeting second thoughts about the yearlong commitment—raising a puppy for a service-and-guide-dog-training organization that was known for helping veterans—but seeing her daughter’s face beaming reaffirmed her decision. Maddie loved animals, and the experience would not only be great for the kids, it would be great for Ben, too. Her gift to him. A way to serve...from home.
“Let’s give Daddy a day to settle in before we tell him. Think you can keep it hush until tomorrow morning?” With the pup scheduled to arrive in five days, they’d definitely need to tell Ben as soon as possible. Breakfast time would be good. Maddie scrunched her face as if she’d sucked on a lemon and dropped her arms.
“Fine. I’ll survive,” she said with a dramatic sigh.
Zoe watched her daughter skip into the family room off the kitchen and half listened to her coaxing her four-year-old brother to clean up rather than play. He protested. Loudly. Peace and quiet were near impossible on a good day. She sure hoped the antibiotics for Ryan’s ear infection would kick in so he’d sleep through tonight. That, or Ben was going to need earplugs. Zoe rubbed her forehead. With no caffeine because of nursing and no more than three hours of sleep last night, she knew anticipation was the only thing keeping her from crashing. She felt guilty for not taking the kids to get Ben, but with a sick baby and the wait time involved, it just wasn’t possible. It wasn’t his first homecoming, but it felt like it. Every time he made it home safely, she couldn’t shake the niggling fear that they’d used up their good luck. Zoe’s eyes burned. She’d give her life to know that Ben would be safe and sound forever.
She swallowed hard and reached for the baby monitor perched on the counter by the fridge, and made sure Chad hadn’t fiddled with the volume setting. She would not break down. Not in front of the kids, and certainly not in front of Ben. He’d be dealing with jet lag and exhaustion. He didn’t need her falling apart at the sight of him, too. Not when she wanted so badly to convince him not to reenlist—again—and that this was the place to be.
Home.
And changing her shirt would be a good move. Even she, immune as she was, could smell the sour tang of baby burp on her shoulder.
“Maddie. Chad. I’ll be right back. Hide the toy box behind the sofa when you’re done.”
“Daddy!” The creak of the front door, thud of a duffel bag hitting the floor and Chad’s squeal sent an explosion of everything pure, wonderful and fated surging through Zoe and lodging in her throat. The sight of him standing in the doorway did her in.
“Ben.” She could barely hear her own voice over the wail from the baby monitor.
His lips curved into the crooked smile that had charmed her from day one. Zoe held back for the kids and thanked her stars when Ryan’s cry through the monitor mellowed to a gurgle, then silence. She watched as Ben knelt down to hug Chad, then held one free arm out to a suddenly shy Maddie. Chad was young enough to get excited over the idea of Daddy, but Maddie’s uncertainty broke Zoe’s heart. At nine, she was realizing just how much of a stranger her dad really was. Seeing her finally wrap her arms around him set Zoe’s tears in action. He stood up, and in seconds Zoe ambushed him, legs around his waist. Her lips met his in a long, warm kiss. She ran her hands along the stubble that shaded his face and kissed his neck, letting herself get enveloped in the strength, warmth and scent that was only his.
“I missed you. Oh, man, I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you, too,” he said, nuzzling her hair and holding her firmly against his chest. He didn’t let go. Zoe loved that he didn’t let go—in spite of the fact that the aroma of baby burp couldn’t have escaped his keen marine senses.
“Something smells good,” he said.
Zoe laughed and pulled back.
“I need to change my shirt.”
“Me, too. I’ll be right behind you. I need to set my bags in the bedroom.”
Zoe stroked his cheek again. “By the way, I’m making your favorite cake, and as soon as I change, I need to run to Bentley’s to pick up dinner.”
Ben flattened his hand against his heart.
“You’re the best. With extra cheese?”
“Made to order just for you,” Zoe said. Ben loved her home-cooked meals, but ordering his favorite burger from the same pub where they’d gone on their very first date had become a homecoming tradition. Thank goodness Maddie had reminded her this morning. Lack of sleep nurtured brain fog.
Zoe fingered his collar, then rested her hands on his shoulders. Whatever had been bugging him, they were finally face-to-face. They’d sort it out. She knew he worried about money. But once he met his son, nothing else would matter.
She hoped.
“Ryan is sleeping, barely, but you have to come see him. Mom says he looks like me, but I don’t know. I think he has your nose.”
“Poor kid,” Ben said, ruffling Chad’s hair before picking up his oversize duffel and following Zoe toward the bedroom hallway to the right of the kitchen.
“Poor kid has an ear infection. He might be cranky when he wakes up, but I won’t take long. Maddie can help you.”
“Yep, he likes me,” Maddie said, looking at Zoe for confirmation.
“How could he not? You’re the greatest big sis and helper ever,” Zoe said, letting Ben enter the master bedroom ahead of her. Maddie looked expectantly at her father for approval, but he just set his bag near the foot of the bed and looked around the room without a word, as if he’d entered a hotel room and needed to get his bearings. It happened whenever he came home. And by the time they’d find a new rhythm and his awkward, withdrawn silences would subside, he’d get ready to head out again.
But not this time. Zoe needed to convince him that he’d served enough and that she needed him here with her. The kids needed their dad.
Zoe rubbed Maddie’s shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile.
“Do me a favor. Go touch a finger to one of the cakes and see if it’s cool enough to frost. You can start on it while I pick up dinner.”
“Okay!” Maddie ran down the hall, the hurt of her dad not responding seemingly forgotten.
Chad scrambled up the side of the bed and started jumping.
“Get down, buddy, before you fall,” Ben said, scooping him by the waist and setting him on the floor.
Zoe slipped into their small walk-in closet and quickly changed. She couldn’t help feeling a little nervous and self-conscious around him. The last time he’d seen her she’d barely begun showing, but Ryan was only four weeks old and, as slim as she was, she was still battling the remains of belly flab and stretch marks. She stepped out just as Ben pulled an army-green cap from his bag and put it on Chad’s head.
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” she said.
“No, wait,” he said. “I can go. You stay in case the baby wakes up.” The baby. Not Ryan.
“Ben, you’ll be fine. He was up all night, so I don’t think he’ll wake up for a while. Just go take a peek at him.”
Ben started to protest, and Zoe put her fingertips to his mouth, then ran her thumb along his bottom lip in promise. “Go meet your son. Spend a little time with the kids. They go to bed pretty early. You’ll survive.”
Ben covered her hand with his, then let her slip away.
* * *
SOME THINGS WERE not meant to be miniature.
Ben cocked his head and looked at his swaddled son. Poor thing really did have his nose. Don’t worry, bud, you’ll grow into it. He was actually a cute little thing, little being a scary word. With the same caution he’d use to handle a live grenade, he reached down and laid his hand against Ryan’s chest. The pulsing of that tiny infant heart against his callused palm blew him away. Innocence. It killed him that he had taken part in bringing another innocent child into a world ravaged with so many evils and dangers...but he had. And it was his duty to make sure his family was provided for and no harm came to them.
Wow. Kid number three. Ben swiped his palm down his face. Higher bills, expenses and college tuition...which meant no way could he give up his steady pay and benefits. Not yet. He was more valuable to them on duty anyway. Whenever he was home, his time was dedicated to fun and relaxation with Zoe and the kids. If he had to tackle child rearing on a daily basis, he’d probably just mess up what Zoe had going. She was the most amazing wife a marine—any man, for that matter—could have. The most incredible, patient woman and mother he knew. And they had a system. His career meant they’d be safe and provided for and she...she held down the fort and made it all worthwhile. It worked for them, and she seemed happy enough.
He hadn’t had any doubts about her happiness until she’d recently begun talking, via Skype, about how relieved she was that his duty was ending, and she wouldn’t have to live day to day worrying about the infamous knock on the door. He’d let it go. Arguing over his decision to reenlist wasn’t something he’d wanted to get into on a computer screen. Especially not with her pregnancy hormones out of whack. The way he figured things, he didn’t have an option. Not with a growing family.
The doorbell rang, and Ben froze, expecting the baby to wake up. He pulled his hand away, careful not to cause any air turbulence. Put a real grenade in his palm and he’d deal with it. A crying infant with a loaded diaper? Now, that was a weapon he had no intention of handling.
“Daddy, the door!”
His breath caught, both from fear that she’d wake the baby and from the sound of Daddy from his daughter’s lips. He rushed out of the room, intent on forestalling the next ring of the bell.
“Mommy says to leave the door answering to her,” Maddie explained from behind a disaster of frosting and what he hoped was cake. Chad, perched on a stool next to her, was licking white goop off his hands.
Oh, boy. Zoe’ll be back soon. Zoe’ll be back soon.
“Make sure your brother doesn’t fall,” Ben said, pointing at Chad for emphasis. Man. At least they knew not to open the door to strangers.
Ben reached the front door and swung it wide, not in the mood for visitors, but half expecting Zoe’s parents. Grandma could handle the goop.
The ground rippled beneath his feet when he saw the uniforms. His adrenaline jacked into high gear.
He was overreacting. Maybe this time PTSD had won out. They were probably just door-to-door fund-raising. They still did that, right? He scratched impatiently at his forehead, irritated with himself for going into battle mode.
“Yes, officers?”
“Sir, is this the home of Zoe Corallis?”
Is this the home of Zoe Corallis?
An icy cold bled across his chest. He shook his head, refusing to listen to what instinct told him they were going to say. This wasn’t right. This was supposed to be home.
Ben’s chest heaved, and his knuckles whitened against the door frame. The officer’s words blistered in his ears. Is this the home of Zoe Corallis?Car accident... We’re sorry.
“No. No.” He shook his head emphatically, his words sounding like military orders even to himself. He fisted his shirt, where Zoe’s touch still lingered.
“Maddie, take Chad to Ryan’s room and stay there until I say.” He turned to be sure they obeyed and was met with stunned looks. “Now! Go!”
Maddie helped her brother down and they disappeared like frightened prey. Ben braced his hands against the door frame, trying to process what was happening, then, like the friends he’d seen pelleted with shrapnel, he buckled and hit the floor.
Zoe.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b30ecf6e-74a0-54df-8087-8d52c10ade8d)
Dear Diary,
They said writing to you would help. I’m not sure. I can’t tell anyone what I did. Not even you. If anyone finds out, I could go to jail...or hell.
HOPE ALWANGA STRIPPED off her bloody gloves and gown, then rushed from the room, but there was no escaping the merciless, coppery smell that had penetrated her sinuses. She pressed the crook of her elbow to her nose to shield against the added assault from the sweaty, desperate crowd still waiting to be seen and made her way to the back of the emergency room. A steady stream of patients was expected at any of Nairobi’s public hospitals—she saw it as added experience during her internship year—but this? This was pure chaos. And she’d been forced to do procedures she’d never done before.
She needed a minute to sit. Just one.
She collapsed onto a stool near a half-empty medical supply closet, leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.
“Go home.”
“No,” she said, jerking her head up and pushing off the stool. The floor tilted, and her hands shot out reflexively for balance. “I’m fine. I just needed a second.”
Zamir, her supervising doctor, put a gentle hand on her shoulder and urged her back onto the stool.
“Take that second and then go home. That’s an order,” he said.
“I haven’t eaten anything. That’s all it is.” That and no sleep.
“Don’t argue with your superior.”
Hope rolled her eyes. Zamir could never nail a harsh tone when it came to her. He was closer in age to her much-older brother, and, given that he’d grown up as a family friend, he often teetered between his role as her supervising medical officer and a caring friend. A lot. Only, he knew full well that Hope wasn’t interested in anything but focusing on her education and career. Hope brushed his hand aside and stood, taking a deep, readying breath.
“You need me here. We’ve lost two patients already this morning, and there has been no news of the rest of the staff coming back. I’m not going anywhere.”
For two days now, they’d been running on bare threads. It was bad enough that, under normal circumstances, Nairobi’s public hospitals were grossly underequipped. Only months into her internship, she’d already witnessed patients either dying or being turned away due to lack of medical equipment and supplies alone. Even children. God, the children broke her heart. Now, to add insult to an already critical situation, delayed government paychecks had spurred a strike by the majority of their medical staff. As an intern, her pay was barely worth counting anyway, but she wasn’t here for money. She was here to help, but this...this was like asking a gnat to save a drowning shrew.
She turned to head back toward the main area. Failure wasn’t an option. Not for an Alwanga.
“Hope, don’t be stubborn,” Zamir said, stepping in front of her. “You need to get some sleep or you’ll be useless. You’ll start to make mistakes. I can’t have that happen. Stay and I’ll write you up.”
Hope stopped dead in her tracks, then looked right at him. Her pulse drummed at the base of her throat.
“That man did not die because of me,” she said, pointing down the hall toward the patient they’d just lost. “I did everything—”
“I didn’t mean him,” Zamir said, shaking his head and holding up his palms. “You were brilliant in there. Hope, that man had been thrown from a boda-boda. He didn’t have a chance. Not with what we have here. But I need you to get some rest before I end up having to resuscitate you. Or before you do make a human mistake.”
Hope pressed her lips together and cringed at the mental image of Zamir resuscitating her. He’d love that, wouldn’t he? Zamir to the rescue. Always looking out for her. That was exactly why her parents loved him so much.
But he was right. Anyone who dared hitch a ride on Kenya’s motorcycle-styled taxis, manned by an array of notoriously reckless drivers, was gambling with death. She’d done what she could, stepping in to assist Zamir in the absence of more experienced doctors and nurses. But her trained immunity to the stench of violent death had failed her today. The lack of sleep really was doing a number on her senses, and the last cup of lukewarm coffee she’d guzzled hadn’t done much to help. She ran both hands back over her chin-length waves. She still wasn’t used to the texture after her mom insisted she have it relaxed a few weeks ago. “Fine,” she said. “Just for a few hours.”
“Don’t come back until tomorrow. I’ll find someone to help. Maybe the strike will be over by then,” he said, twisting his lips. Neither of them was holding out hope on that count. Even if it did end, the suffering and loss would have still happened. The supplies and equipment needed to better serve the majority of locals too poor to seek help from private hospitals or doctors—such as her parents—would still be an issue.
Hope nodded and walked away, too tired to argue anymore. What was the point? After finishing up her year here, she’d be moving on to her master of medicine in orthopedics before joining her parents’ private practice. That had always been the plan. All she was doing right now was rolling a boulder uphill.
She grabbed her things, made a quick call to Jamal, their family driver, for pickup and fled the building. A well-dented matatu packed with passengers revved its engine and missed her by two feet as it sped away from the curb. She gasped, then coughed out a lungful of exhaust fumes. And there was the reason she didn’t drive. One had to have a little daredevil and adrenaline addict in them to navigate the streets of Nairobi. Being a passenger was scary enough, but she trusted Jamal. He’d been her family’s driver since she was an infant, hired right after her parents had employed his wife as a housekeeper and cook, because at the time, with Hope’s medical needs and heart surgery, they’d needed the extra help.
She made her way to where she spotted Jamal waiting. The October sunshine cleansing her face made up for the emergency room “aromas” and exhaust fumes. Boy, was she glad their family home was outside the city. Although lately, she hadn’t spent much time there.
“Jambo,” she said, climbing in with the oversize woven shoulder bag she carried her life in: clinical books, notes, wallet, a few toiletries and probably a few items lost at the bottom that she’d forgotten about entirely.
“Jambo, Hope,” Jamal said, closing her door, then making his way around to the driver’s seat.
She quickly pulled off her socks and shoes and slipped her achy feet into the sandals she kept tucked under the front seat. She sighed and leaned back.
“Home?” Jamal asked.
“No, I need to stop at the university first. Then Chuki’s, then home.” She wouldn’t be able to truly relax until she dropped off inhaler samples for Chuki’s little sister. Her friend’s family had been struggling financially for a while now, and the least Hope could do was to try to help out. Especially with the strike going on.
Jamal glanced at her through the rearview mirror before turning his focus on the road.
“You look pale. Dalila told me to tell you she’s making some fresh mandazi just for you. She said not to tell your parents. She’ll have stew ready by the time they come home,” he said, winking at her through the rearview mirror.
“Mmm.” Hope closed her eyes and savored the mere idea of a warm homemade doughnut. Her only vice. Her stomach growled, and she pressed her hand against it. “Dalila is an angel,” she said, barely lifting her heavy eyelids.
“I know,” he said, grinning.
Hope gave in to sleep as she smiled back. Not much of a nap, given that the campus building where her brother’s research lab was located wasn’t far enough for the solid dose of REM sleep she needed. She woke up at Jamal’s prompting and dragged her groggy self toward the building and up the stairs to her brother’s genetics lab.
“Jambo,” she said, closing the door behind her and hanging her bag on the hook meant for his lab coat. She glanced over her shoulder, pretending not to notice the annoyed look on her brother Dr. Simba David Alwanga’s face. “Dr. Alwanga” to all his staff and colleagues—especially the ladies—but family always used his middle name, David. Hope, however, had called him Simba ever since she could talk, and she was the only person who could get away with it. He hated the fact that he shared a name with an animated movie character. She loved it.
“Jambo. No sandals in the lab. You know that,” he said.
She did know. Standard lab safety called for closed-toe shoes, something she’d gotten in the habit of wearing during medical school, especially when working with patients and blades or needles.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. Every cell on me needed to breathe,” she said, collapsing onto the swivel stool in front of the counter across from where he was labeling petri dishes. “Besides, I’m not staying long. Please tell me you got some.”
The corners of his mouth quirked up.
“I promised, didn’t I?” he said, still labeling and setting the dishes in organized rows.
She shook her head and chuckled at his smugness. Even as his sister, she had to admit he was a good-looking guy, on top of having a phenomenal reputation in the research world and a natural charisma women seemed to find irresistible. That actually worried her a bit. She had a hard time imagining him settling down, but at the same time, she didn’t want him trapped by some woman who only cared about his name and success. Men could be so blind.
“I do appreciate the fruits of your effortless labor, dear brother, but one of these days you’re going to meet your match, and she’s going to laugh at your smooth-talking ways.”
He flicked the on switch for the sterile hood that occupied a good five feet of the narrow lab’s right wall, set his tray of dishes under it, then leaned back against the counter and folded his arms.
“Smooth talking? It’s this face and the brains behind it,” he said.
Hope rolled her eyes. She knew he was kidding for her benefit. Mostly. It took about two seconds for his eyes to narrow.
“You look terrible,” he said.
“Did you really just compliment your looks, then insult mine? Just give me the samples,” she said, hoping to deflect his concern.
“Hope, trust me, not even mud could mask your beauty—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, tell me you haven’t tried that one in public,” she said, tossing her head.
“—but you really do look pale. And yes, that one got you these,” he added, pulling two sample-size boxes out of his lab coat pocket and handing them to her.
“Thank you!” Hope jumped off the stool, took the boxes and gave Simba a quick hug. “I’ll leave you to work.”
“Not so fast.” He guided her back to the stool and made her sit. So much for a quick exit. Hope knew when she was in for another lecture. A part of her understood the good place it was coming from.
As the youngest, she was stuck with the position of the family baby. Considering how “delicate” she’d been as a real baby, Hope was used to her every breath being scrutinized or worried over. Yes, it was love, but it was also irritating at times. At twenty-five, she knew how to get things done. So far, she’d been successful with every step of the career that her parents had carefully outlined with her. It was just that, as a woman, it seemed as if she always had to work harder for the same success and accolades as her male peers. Even her brother. So yes, she was tired.
“I know I look tired. I am. I just left hell, but I’m headed home right after dropping these off, so I’ll be fine. Jamal is waiting for me. Okay?”
Simba rolled another stool near hers and sat down. He pressed his lips together and looked off to the side before turning to her. There was no trace of his fun demeanor left. This was all lion king.
“Listen to me, Hope. This isn’t just about today. I’ve noticed you going downhill for months now.”
“I’m an intern at a public hospital. What do you expect?”
“I expect you to have good days and bad days. But be honest. You’re miserable, Hope. Your face is like an open book. I see determination and exhaustion, but never joy. I see no peace in you.”
Hope licked her lips and looked away, blinking several times to fight the burn of tears. He was right. Everyone always said that she had such an expressive face. Kind of a curse at times. No emotional privacy.
“Sometimes I feel as though I need to be autoclaved. It’s expected.”
“Sometimes you simply need a break. You’re making yourself sick and I’m worried,” he continued. “When was the last time you visited this friend of yours? Do you even still have other friends?” He pointed to the boxes Hope held.
He didn’t really know Chuki, and she wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t recall her name. The women that caught his eye were in related fields...and not from Chuki’s side of town. But he was right. It had been almost two months since she’d seen Chuki in person, and even that visit had been no more than thirty minutes. She shrugged. She couldn’t do this now.
“Exactly. You care about her, yet you hardly see her. Do you know why I’m successful at what I do?” her brother asked. “Because I love this.” He waved a hand at the lab. “This is my passion, Hope. I went after it because I wanted to. It satisfied me. Hard work? Yes, but there has to be balance.”
Hope straightened and took a deep breath.
“That’s enough, Simba. You can’t tell me what I want and don’t want to do.”
“No, but I can tell you that your health comes first. Your happiness comes first. Can you tell me that if you had one wish on earth, it would be to join Mama and Baba’s practice?” He sliced his hand through the air. “Do you even have a wish?”
The door to the lab swung open and Simba’s friend and colleague Dr. Jack Harper stepped in. Yes. A buffer.
“Hey, you two slackers. Stop sitting around and get to work,” Jack teased as he carried two racks of sample-filled vials to the far end of the lab near the centrifuge. He set them down and pulled a pipette out of a drawer. Simba gave her a “this isn’t over” look and went back to his work.
“Jack. I didn’t know you were going to be here today!” Hope said, perching her sandals on the bottom rung of the stool and swiveling it gently left and right. “How is everyone at Busara? How is little Pippa?”
“They’re great. And Pippa... That little monkey is growing fast.” His eyes sparkled like only a proud father’s could. “Anna and Niara told me to say hi to you and to tell you they’d be around for some supplies soon,” Jack said.
“Tell them I can’t wait.” She resisted the urge to ask when exactly “soon” would be. She really wanted to see them, but her brain tensed from the mere idea of how the logistics would work with her current schedule. Unless, maybe, if the strike ended.
Hope had met Jack and Anna a little over a year ago, when her brother was helping them sort out US citizenship and paternity paperwork for their daughter, Pippa, whom Anna had been raising in secret at Busara, her remote elephant research and rescue camp in the Serengeti. Anna had brought along her devoted friend Niara, and Hope had had a wonderful time taking Niara and her little boy shopping, while Anna and Jack had dealt with the embassy. At the time, Hope had almost been done with medical school. Jack, Anna and Pippa had come to dinner at their home a few times since then, after Jack had moved to Kenya and started collaborating with Simba, flying from Busara to Nairobi a few days a week. They’d all grown even closer as friends when Jack was crushed by the death of his sister in the States six months ago. He wasn’t the biggest talker, but whenever he mentioned something about his niece and nephews back home, it was clear to Hope that they meant a lot to him.
“Sandals?” Jack asked, raising one brow at Simba, as if surprised he hadn’t chased his sister out of the room yet.
“Not you, too. You’re more paranoid than my brother,” Hope said, hopping off the stool to get her bag. The room spun, and she took a step back, sending the stool rolling to her left. She dropped the sample boxes and grabbed the edge of the counter to regain her balance, but Simba was already holding her by the arm and Jack was over in seconds with a backed chair from the small adjoining office.
“Are you preg—” Jack asked, picking up the inhaler samples.
“No!” Hope and Simba said simultaneously, glaring at him in disbelief. Then Simba looked at Hope with scary-wide eyes.
“No!” she confirmed. Talk about an impossibility.
“Pretend I didn’t open my mouth,” Jack said with raised palms. He handed her the boxes.
“I just got up too quickly. I’ll be fine now.”
“That’s it,” Simba said. “You’re taking medical leave. Some time off.”
“Have you lost your mind? I can’t. Zamir needs me at the hospital. Half his staff are gone.”
“Zamir called me today, worried sick. I’m not the only one who’s noticed you withering away.”
Hope felt the rush of blood heat her face.
“He didn’t,” she said.
“He did. I know I’ll have his backing on this. He’ll sign whatever is needed. The internship will still be there, Hope. If that’s what you want. But you need to pause.”
Hope rubbed her hands down her face. No. This was impossible. People would ask questions and spread rumors that she’d failed somehow. She’d embarrass her parents. She’d disappoint them, and she couldn’t do that after all they’d sacrificed to save her life and to give her nothing but the best. Being where she was in her life wasn’t just hard work, it was a privilege. It was the grand plan. And taking off would be the equivalent of being ungrateful...or worse, incapable. At least that was what people would think.
Simba was right, though. Doctors really did make awful patients, because if she was honest with herself about how she’d been feeling lately, she’d be surprised if her adrenal glands hadn’t shriveled up.
God knew, she wanted to help people. She really did. But lately all she was feeling was frustrated and depleted. She didn’t dare admit to her family how many times the idea of escaping all their expectations and all her responsibilities had crossed her mind. Kicking back. Partying. Traveling places she’d seen in movies or read about in books. Freedom. How selfish was that? Witnessing poverty and disease everyday and then yearning for something different than the life she had? Some wishes were better left unspoken.
She closed her eyes and a tear escaped. She swiped it away.
“Um, can I get you something?” Jack asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Hope cleared her throat. She needed to get home. This was all too embarrassing.
“No, no. Thank you, Jack. Simba is making a big deal out of nothing.” She scowled at her brother. “And you’re embarrassing me here. Why don’t you walk me downstairs, Simba? You can buy your little sister a snack to eat in the car.”
He couldn’t say no to getting food in her system. She really didn’t want to argue in front of Jack, nor did she want to pass out before getting to the car. Jack slipped over to his vials and grabbed a pair of sterile gloves from a box, granting them a little privacy.
Simba paced in front of her like...well...like a lion.
“Hope, I know you’re worried about what people will think. What Mama and Baba will say. I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ll handle them. Don’t worry. No one will judge.”
Hope sighed. “Look. I’ll take a weekend or a week and stare at the walls at home. Will that make you happy?”
She waited for her brother to say something. The hum of the sterile hood and the occasional clink of Jack’s tubes were the only sounds in the lab. Simba scratched his forehead, then looked around the lab as though in search of a scientific reason to nix her suggestion. He drew back his shoulders and braced his hands on his hips.
“No. This isn’t about a few nights of sleep. This is about you not killing yourself and having regrets. I know our parents mean well, but the fact is, they’re from a different generation. Even I have a decade on you and can see that. You’re my sister. I want you happy. I want you to have perspective. Choices. Which is why—” he hesitated, scrubbing his jaw and exchanging glances with Jack “—I think you should take a few months and go to America.”
The chair grated the floor as Hope stood, the bolt of shock keeping her on her feet this time.
“What? Jack, tell him he needs an MRI.”
Jack held his sterile gloved palms up.
“I’m not getting in the middle. A wise friend once told Anna and me his favorite saying—‘when two elephants fight, it is the grass that gets trampled.’ In this lab, that would be me.”
“Something tells me you’re already in the middle. America? Really?”
Hope knew her brother had come through for Jack when Jack had discovered the daughter he didn’t know he had was being raised in Kenya’s wilderness. Had Simba cashed in on a favor?
“I’m helping you here, Hope,” Simba said. “Haven’t you always wanted to visit America? I’ve heard you talking to Anna. This is the perfect time. The perfect chance. Jack’s family needs some help.”
Jack tipped his head in agreement as he loaded the centrifuge.
“Don’t feel obligated or anything, but when Alwanga here told me you needed to get away, it did make sense,” Jack said. “Ben, my brother-in-law, could use help with the kids.”
Hope gripped the sides of her head, then grabbed her purse off the hook and turned back to face the crazy men. There’d be no fainting. Her blood had hit boiling point.
“You expect me to go from medicine to childcare? A nanny? That’s your idea of a getaway? A break?” she said, pointing at both of them.
“Whoa. Not really a nanny. Not in the official hired sense. Let’s not complicate visas here,” Jack said.
“He’s right. More of an exchange,” Simba said.
“Yeah. You all are like my family here in Kenya. Mine can be like yours while you’re in America. I think a visitor would be good for them right now. A distraction.”
Hope raised a brow.
“Okay, so distraction might be a bad choice of word, but you know what I mean.” Jack looked between Simba and Hope. “I should keep my mouth shut now.”
Hope closed her eyes. She did know what he meant. His parents had lost a child. His niece and nephews, their mother. And their father—Ben—had lost a wife. She sucked in her bottom lip. Was her brain so foggy that what they were suggesting had merit? An escape while saving face? She felt Simba’s hand close around her shoulder. His voice deepened, and his words came slowly and reassuringly.
“You help out, and in return, you have a place to stay, people I trust around you, so that I don’t have to worry about you alone in a foreign country. It works,” Simba said.
Hope wrapped her arms around herself.
“What if Chuki’s sister needs medicine when I’m gone?”
Simba sighed loudly.
“I’ll take it. Give her my number here in case there’s an emergency. Maybe I can convince the pulmonary doctor I got the samples from to see her once at no charge. If you go.”
Hope studied the braided leather of her sandals.
“I’ll sleep on it. But don’t go buying plane tickets or anything,” she said. She gave Jack a tired smile for his well-intentioned role of trampled grass. “Or making promises of help. We have another wise saying in Kenya. ‘Thunder is not yet rain.’”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_62bb9462-1588-573b-8001-47fcbd5561a9)
Dear Diary,
I had a bad dream again last night. This time, I couldn’t remember her face. I woke up so scared. I hate sleeping.
IF BEN HAD to listen one more time to the mechanical grind of “Frosty the Snowman” coming from the holiday jack-in-the-box Grandma Nina had gotten Ryan yesterday, he was going to explode. He scrubbed his hands across his short, prickly hair and dropped his fists against the kitchen table. A tangerine tumbled off the edge of the centered fruit basket and rolled onto the chair next to him. This was pointless. Who in the blasted universe could think through all that noise?
The laptop screen switched to screen-saver mode. He’d been staring at it that long without touching a key. He shoved his chair back and marched into the family room, where Chad, kneeling on the carpet in front of Ryan’s bouncy seat, was gearing up to crank that Jack Snowman again. Maddie was curled up against a sofa pillow watching some show starring rainbow-colored ponies that was set loud enough to drown her brothers out. The place looked as though toys had attacked by air, land and sea. And a friend of the real Jack was flying in today.
That was likely the reason he was irritable. That and the phone call from Maddie’s teacher letting him know that Maddie needed to be picked up at the nurse’s office and asking if he could return after school let out for a conference—especially since he’d missed the routine parent-teacher conferences scheduled at the beginning of the month. All in one day. The teacher meeting meant that he’d have to head straight to the airport from the school. Which had forced him to call Nina to see if she wouldn’t mind coming over to watch the kids. She’d jumped at the opportunity. Zoe’s mom had her heart in the right place, but he was about to get bombarded with the implied “you’re doing this all wrong” and “we know what your kids need more than you do” from all angles—his mother-in-law and the school. With his bad luck, this Hope person would add her two cents to the pot.
He’d blasted the idea of anyone living in his house to help. He was managing just fine. Most of the time. Even now, the idea of having a stranger underfoot, on top of everything else, didn’t sit well. However, Jack had made an effective point. Having live-in help would mean that he could focus more on developing his security-business plan. Plus, his mother-in-law would back off a little—or, as Jack put it, “worry less”—and see that he had everything under control. Maybe she’d get used to not hovering. Likewise, Ben wouldn’t keep enabling the situation by having to call her for emergencies. He’d resisted a few weeks ago, when Ryan had come down with another ear infection on parent-teacher conference day, a decision that was biting him today. In any case, if this Hope got on his nerves, then he could have her stay at his in-laws and keep them occupied from over there. Nina loved guests. Either way, he’d have more control...and some quiet time to sort things out in terms of work.
“Hey, guys,” Ben called over the exasperating ruckus. No reaction. He put two fingers between his lips and blew.
Maddie turned her cheek against the pillow and frowned at him before taking her time to pause her video. Chad stopped midcrank and looked up, and Ryan stared wide-eyed with his little hands securing his feet tight against his belly. Ben took the snowman from Chad, stuffed it into the box and snapped the lid with the sense of relief one got from defusing a bomb. This stay-at-home-dad stuff was really messing with his mind.
“That’s better. Mads, keep that down, would you?”
She aimed the remote at her brothers and pretended to lower their volume. Silent sarcasm. A bit of silence was exactly what he wanted, except from Maddie. He’d change a hundred stench-drenched diapers if it meant she’d say something. Anything, other than the sounds of crying or the shrill, closed-mouth scream she did when she’d been pushed too far.
He had no doubt the parent-teacher conference he had to leave for in a few hours was going to be about just that. Again. The school nurse had shown him Maddie’s handwritten note. One word: headache. They all knew there was more to it. Frustration twisted the muscles in his shoulders, and he cranked his neck to the side.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said to Maddie. “Chad, pick up some of these toys before Grandma gets here. A dime a dunk.”
He was not above bribery. After Zoe was killed, one of the school moms had stopped to check on him in the parking lot and had begun spewing advice. She’d assured him that bribery was a parent’s secret weapon. Everyone used it. Not everyone admitted to it.
Chad immediately began tossing toys into the giant wicker basket by the couch. Unfortunately, each dunk came with a creative sound effect, and his four-year-old had gifted lungs. Maddie slammed a second pillow over her ear as she zoned out in front of the TV.
Ben grabbed a chewable and slobber-proof picture book, gave it to Ryan and set his bouncy seat near Maddie. Yes, he’d resorted to the television babysitter a couple of times, but all those colors had to have some visual-stimulation benefits. Right?
“I’ll tell you what, man. How about you help me inflate a bed? You can push the button on the pump motor. It’s really loud.”
A superhero landed headfirst on the floor near the basket. Ouch.
“How loud?” Chad asked, wrapping one knee around the other as though he was holding it in.
“Jet-fighter loud.” Anything loud served as bribery with this kid.
“Like this?” The ensuing screech from Chad had Maddie pounding the pillow on her ear, Ryan whimpering and Ben wincing. It wasn’t going to take long for this Hope person to flee to Nina’s house.
“How about you go use the bathroom and meet me in your room to find out?”
“Okay!”
At least getting Chad in a different room would give Maddie some peace.
The doorbell rang, sending Ben’s nerves prickling up his spine like a row of merciless fire ants, a reaction that hadn’t subsided since Zoe’s death.
He rolled his shoulders and went to let Nina in. He’d specifically told her he’d leave the door unlocked, but apparently she’d forgotten.
He found her standing there with a big cardboard box in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I had to use my elbow on the doorbell. This box is a little heavy,” Nina said as she bustled past him. His nose twitched from an ambush of fruity hairspray.
Ben took the box from her and escaped to the kitchen. Nina made a beeline for the baby, after hanging her coat on the wooden rack by the door.
“So what’s in the box?” Ben said, closing his laptop and stacking his notes on top, then setting them in the cabinet under the microwave. Zoe’s mother did not need to see any of it.
“Oh, just some holiday decorations Zoe had stored in our basement because your garage was getting too full. I put a tin of chocolate-chip cookies on top. Go ahead and pull it out so you don’t forget,” she said. She unclipped Ryan and hugged him close to her shoulder, then slathered him with kisses and singsong words Ben couldn’t make out.
He pulled a red tin decorated with elves and snowflakes out of the box, noted the rest of the contents and quickly slapped the flaps of cardboard back in place.
“Not happening,” he said.
“Shh. Maddie’s asleep on the couch,” Nina said, turning off the TV and walking into the kitchen with Ryan in her arms. Her lips tightened. “Zoe’s favorite thing to do was to decorate the weekend after Thanksgiving. That’s in just over a week.”
“It’s not happening this year, Nina, so feel free to keep the decorations.” He carried the box back to the entryway and set it under the coatrack so that it wouldn’t be forgotten. She followed him.
“Let the kids have some fun, Ben. It could cheer Maddie up.”
He looked at the half-tidied living room.
“I’d say they’re having plenty of fun already. And no, I don’t think it’ll cheer Maddie up. We’re not decorating this year. They can enjoy the decorations at your house. But not here.”
“You told me yourself that Maddie’s counselor said to make as few changes as possible so as not to stress her more. Not letting her go through the holidays like she always did would be a mistake. One that she might not recover from.”
A direct hit. Nina and Zoe’s father, Eric, were known in the community for opening their hearts and home to others. Years ago they’d adopted Zoe’s younger brother Jack after he’d lost his parents to drug overdoses. And they’d even accepted Ben—albeit reluctantly—when Zoe had brought him home from college and announced that they were getting married. Ben had always wondered if Nina harbored a nugget of resentment toward him, believing he’d triggered Zoe’s decision to quit college to raise Maddie. Even if had really been Zoe’s call. Nina was a fiercely protective woman, and ever since Zoe died, she’d directed those energies at her grandkids. As if they didn’t have a dad, or at least one whose parenting methods and choices she agreed with.
He got the message loud and clear every time. She’d been around his kids over the years more than he had. She knew them better. He looked back toward the bedroom hallway. Empty. Chad had either taken himself to do number two in the bathroom, or was trying to pull the inflatable bed out of its box. As long as no little ears were sticking around the corner...
“Nina. You know how grateful I am for all you’ve done over the years—being there for Zoe and the kids, being here for us, helping me, especially with Ryan, over the past seven months. But with all due respect, this is my home, and they have a father. No decorating this year.”
“But Zoe would—”
“Exactly. This was her thing. She decorated for Christmas. And she’s not here. Out of respect for her, it’s not happening. What my kids need is to get through the rest of this year without any more pressure or sympathy or attention that does nothing but remind them of losing their mother. The stuff in this box will only emphasize what they don’t have anymore.”
Nina’s chin and brow rose simultaneously, and she turned her back to him. She carried Ryan, who was half-asleep and drooling like a pro on her shoulder, and laid him on his back in the playpen occupying the corner of the family room. End of conversation. Good.
Ben glanced at his watch. He hurried to check on Chad and found him on the potty buck naked and humming. Or was that moaning? And at what age was he going to stop stripping every time he used the bathroom?
“Daddy, I think I’m conti-pasted.” Constipated. Ben knelt down and rubbed Chad’s back. He should have known the packet of gummy lizards he’d given him in the car on the way to picking up Maddie had been a bad bribe.
“Uh, how about giving it a few more minutes? Here.” Ben picked a book from a stack of Chad’s favorites, which he kept in the bathroom for “encouragement.” “Read this. I have to go, but Grandma is here. Call out to her if no torpedoes launch. But not too loudly. Maddie’s napping.”
“Okay,” Chad said, taking the book.
Ben slipped into his room and grabbed his sweatshirt. Nina had picked up all the remaining toys and was checking Maddie’s backpack at the kitchen table.
“She hasn’t done her homework yet?” Nina asked, looking up from the student agenda.
“No. She can do it when she gets up, if she feels up to it.”
“But she was watching a video,” Nina said, putting the homework agenda back inside and propping the bag on a chair. Ben closed his eyes briefly and exhaled.
“She had a headache. Chad’s on the toilet. I really have to go.” He grabbed his wallet and keys. If he was going to make his appointment with the teacher, he needed to leave now.
“You go. I have everything covered. I really don’t mind helping. Especially since I guess I won’t get to help as much with Jack’s friend around.”
Oh, for crying out loud.
“You’ll be busy cooking for Thanksgiving and then the holidays. You wouldn’t want to deprive everyone, would you? Don’t worry, you’ll still see the kids,” he said, opening the front door.
“I hope so. Of course, you’ll bring them for Thanksgiving, then. Right? Even with losing Zoe, and with what Maddie is going through, there’s a lot to be thankful for.”
Ben’s temples started to pound, and his knuckles whitened against the doorknob. Everyone mourned in their own way, but being thankful was pushing it. She had to be in denial.
“Nina, I’ll bring them, but I’m not thankful for the drunk who killed my wife, and I’m not thankful for what my daughter is going through.”
“But you should be thankful that you’re here with your children and that they didn’t lose both parents. Be thankful that Zoe wasn’t still pregnant with Ryan when she was in that car.” Her eyes glistened and her voice hitched. “Ben, I need you all there to get through it,” she whispered.
Ben felt sucker punched. What if Zoe had still been pregnant? Bile burned his chest, and he swallowed the emotions churning with it. He nodded as he let go of the door. “Thanks for watching the kids,” he said. “Lock the door. It’ll be a couple of hours before I make it back.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you come home.” He could hear the door click shut behind him.
I’ll be here when you come home.
How many times had Zoe said those words over the years?
He double paced to the Expedition hogging the small driveway. After Zoe’s death, he’d bought a year-old model because of cost, but he wanted the equivalent of a tank to haul his kids around in.
At least maybe he could keep the rest of his family safe.
* * *
BEN SCANNED THE report card preview before him. It looked like a Fortune 500 company stock sheet. Numbers, letters, categories and subcategories. What happened to just giving students As, Bs and Cs? Or Fs... He quickly searched the columns, relieved when no Fs jumped at him.
Ms. Serval crossed her legs again and kept fiddling with her necklace. Did teachers really dress up that much for a school day? He wore his worst jeans just to get through a day with three kids. She had eighteen. Ben pretended not to notice when she flicked her hair back over her shoulder and leaned forward to pass him another sheet of paper, and tried not to pass out from her tear-gas perfume. Maybe that was what had triggered Maddie’s headache. What he really wanted was for the woman to turn off the background music in the classroom. It was driving him insane, but he didn’t dare give her a reason to get up and walk in front of him. Not in his precariously low position on the child-size chair he was in.
“What’s an N?” he asked.
“That stands for Needs Improvement,” said Ms. Serval.
“In class participation? Seriously? After our meeting at the start of the year with the school counselor, knowing what’s going on, did you really find it necessary to give her an N on her report card? I’m sure there are ways to show participation that don’t involve raising your hand and speaking.”
Ms. Serval pulled back and gave her skirt a tug.
“Well, she’s doing great academically, really, Mr. Corallis. I wanted you to have a chance to see her interim grades, since you missed the scheduled conference.”
“The office gave you my message about my youngest getting sick, right?”
“Yes, of course. I completely understand and sent you an email about rescheduling.”
She had? Crap. He had a vague recollection of one that he’d planned to get back to. And forgot.
“Please understand, the whole report card is computer based now,” she said, redirecting the conversation. “We have to input a grade or letter, and there are criteria we have to follow to be fair. I couldn’t put anything else, given the situation. I do understand the reason and I understand that she’s getting therapy for her selective mutism and to help her heal from her—your—loss. But it’s more than that. Lately, she acts as though she doesn’t care. As though she’s not paying attention. Zoning out in the afternoons. And once this week, when I tried to correct something on her paper, she simply crossed her arms and sat at her desk staring at her paper for almost an hour. She refused to respond to anything I said. By working, of course. I don’t mean verbally.”
“An hour?” he asked, adjusting his balance on the chair. Why had she let Maddie sit there that long without calling Mrs. Eggers, the school counselor, or him, for that matter? Ms. Serval gathered the report-card papers, then clasped her hands.
“Not quite an hour,” she said, tipping her chin, “but I was doing what I could. Mrs. Eggers wasn’t here that day. She covers other schools certain days of the week. I had to keep seventeen other students on task, Mr. Corallis. I tried to get her attention as I kept teaching, and hoped she’d come around on her own. It was so close to the end of the day that I didn’t want to encourage the behavior by letting her go home early.”
“I don’t think she was trying to be difficult or manipulative.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that at all.”
Then, maybe he needed a hearing aid. Ms. Serval scratched her cheek.
“It’s just that we’re almost through the first quarter and I’m worried that if she withdraws more, as opposed to showing improvement, it’ll take its toll on the rest of her school year. I realize you’ve been taking her to a therapist and thought you could share these observations. I’ll be honest. I spoke to Mrs. Eggers, and she mentioned the option of putting her in Special Ed if things got worse.”
“No.” Ben couldn’t help it, but the mention of taking Maddie out of a regular classroom so early in the school year felt like a threat. “I’m sure that would be appropriate and helpful for a lot of kids, but Maddie isn’t learning disabled. Nor is she autistic. This is different. She belongs in a regular class with her peers,” he said, standing up. Ms. Serval quickly followed suit.
“I agree...if she doesn’t regress. Which is why I thought that maybe more interaction with kids casually, outside school, might help. This is just a suggestion. Actually an idea her art teacher gave me. A lot of children respond to art, and I teach an art club at the community center on weekends. I’d be more than happy to work outside school hours with her. If you think she won’t be comfortable with a group, I wouldn’t mind coming over and spending time with her. Her brothers could even join us if they wanted.”
Wow. Ben’s neck itched. Zoe had been an avid artist and photographer and used to tell him how much she enjoyed volunteering her skills at the school. No doubt Ms. Serval knew that. What he didn’t feel like sharing at this moment was that they were between therapists. He’d stopped taking Maddie to the one she’d been seeing and was still in the process of finding someone who’d do a better job of connecting with her. Even with medical coverage, nothing was free, and he’d expected her to show improvement at the couple hundred an hour the therapist charged.
He hadn’t bothered with family counseling, in spite of everyone bringing it up. He figured the boys were still young, and he... Well, he’d survived loss before. He’d pulled through that year in college, when his mother, who’d single-handedly raised him down in Virginia on nothing but waitressing jobs, had passed away from an undiagnosed tumor. That was when Zoe, a photography student, had come up to him in the library and asked if she could take candid shots for a project. She’d said that he had a distant look she wanted to capture. Everything had changed after that moment. It was then that he decided to join the marines. He’d needed to prove himself. Make something of that latchkey child his mom had sacrificed for. And for Zoe.
He’d survived.
But he hadn’t been a kid at the time, and with the changes Maddie’s teacher had noted over the past few weeks, he had to wonder if the sessions had indeed been doing any good at all. Or had the changes for worse occurred because he’d been devoting more time to his computer lately?
“Thanks, but I’ve already arranged for help outside school.” Not exactly the kind she was talking about, but not exactly a lie, either. He didn’t have details beyond the fact that Hope was a medical intern, so for all he knew she could be specializing in pediatric psychiatry. “Let’s see how she does over the next month or so. After the holidays.”
“Of course. Oh...” Ms. Serval picked up a blue folder and textbook from the corner of her desk and handed them to him. “I put together the work she missed today and some of the worksheets we’ll be doing tomorrow, just in case it turns out she’s coming down with something. Thanks so much for coming in here today. Maddie really is a sweetheart. I’m so sorry for all you’re going through.” She reached out, so he shook her hand. It felt limp.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Ben said. Then he escaped for the peace and quiet of his SUV.
A solid night’s sleep would be better, but that would have to wait until he made it home and got the kids to bed. Hopefully Ryan would have a good night, but that was about as predictable as peace in a war zone. He swore as he put the gear in Reverse. He’d never inflated the guest bed in Chad’s room. If Chad fell asleep early... Well...if any kid could sleep through the pump noise...
He pulled into the airport parking lot at 1700 hours and found a spot two lanes and six cars north of the target entrance. The sun was setting, and the edge of the cold front they were expecting had definitely arrived. He scribbled Hope on the back of a sheet of paper he ripped from a notepad he kept in the console for whenever Maddie forgot hers, and headed for baggage claim thirteen. He stopped briefly to check the monitors in case changes had been made since he’d called to check on the flight earlier that afternoon. Thirteen it was.
The hustle and bustle of people headed their own way, doing their own thing, was nice. Like being camouflaged in a crowd. He needed a few minutes of feeling invisible today, but traffic had made him later than he’d hoped.
He waited for a passenger shuttle car to drive by and then crossed over to the carousel. He crumpled the paper in his hand. Hope was hard to miss. Other passengers had already left with their luggage, save for a family of four and a man in a suit on his cell phone. The slender woman he was certain was Hope stood about five-five or six and wore a bright orange scarf that framed her face like a headband, holding back a mass of dark curls. She wore flat sandals, one of those flowing ankle-length skirts in a bright pattern and an orange sleeveless top. As a marine, he was trained to register details. If she didn’t have a sweater on her, she was in for a surprise. She stayed close to two green suitcases as she scanned the opposite direction, while alternating between fidgeting with one of her big hoop earrings and gripping an oversize woven purse against her side.
“Hope Alwanga?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her hand pressed against her chest. No doubt she was relieved she hadn’t been forgotten, alone in a foreign airport.
“Ben Corallis.” He extended his hand, and she shook it firmly. Her full lips spread into a bright smile.
“Ben. It’s so wonderful to meet you. Jack speaks so highly of his family.”
Ben nodded, releasing her hand slowly, then stuffed his into the front pockets of his jeans.
“We miss him around here.” Jack was one of the few guys he’d hung around with whenever he was on leave. He wished he still lived here. “These your only bags?” he asked, in case the airline had lost any.
“Yes.”
“You don’t happen to have a sweater you want to pull out of one of these before we hit the road, do you? It’s a little chilly out,” he said. He wasn’t offering his sweatshirt. No one wore his favorite marine sweatshirt. Either Jack should have warned her about the weather or she should have checked her destination weather on the internet.
“Oh, I have one here.” She reached into her shoulder sack and dug out a wad of cloth so small, he knew it wouldn’t be warm enough. She set her bag between her feet while she slipped it on. Thin as an old undershirt. “I could use some cool, fresh air, actually,” she said.
“First time in a plane, huh?”
“Yes,” she said, closing her warm brown eyes briefly. “I’m going to try to forget that I have to do this again in order to get home.”
He picked up her luggage as she slung her bag back onto her shoulder.
“I can get one of those,” she offered.
Not likely, unless she was packing solid muscle in those thin arms. Her suitcases felt like a few elephants had stowed away.
“I have them,” Ben said. “Car’s this way.” He headed toward the glass doors closest to where he’d parked and heard a gasp behind him when the second set of doors opened, letting in a gust of wind. He looked over his shoulder. She slapped her hands down on her skirt to keep it from blowing and hunched her shoulders. Welcome to a Pennsylvanian cold front.
He glanced at the parking lot and gave in. He really wanted to get home, but she was Jack’s friend and his guest. He backed up enough for the doors to close.
“Go back in and I’ll bring the car around. Just keep an eye out for a silver Expedition,” he said, wondering belatedly if she knew what an Expedition looked like.
“No, no. I’m fine. It just took me by surprise.” She fisted the sides of her skirt so it wouldn’t blow. “Lead the way.”
Well, okay, then. Ben headed out. Dark had settled, and the wind chill was pretty uncomfortable, even for him. And this was only November. She wasn’t going to last three months. He let her into the car before loading her bags into the back, then jogged around to the driver’s side and got in. Hope’s laugh caught him off guard. He’d have expected the cold to have irritated her more than the plane trip.
“I’d say I got my fresh air,” she said, rubbing her arms.
That was one way to think of it.
“I guess you did. Seat belt,” he said, nodding toward her shoulder strap and waiting for her to buckle up.
He cranked the heat as soon as the engine was running. The dash read forty-three degrees. Likely in the thirties with the wind factor. He backed out of the parking spot and hit the road.
“Just wait till our first negative temperature day,” he said. “Fahrenheit,” he added, knowing she’d be used to Celsius. He’d spent enough time overseas to do the conversions in his head. “It feels close to two or three degrees Celsius out there.”
Her eyes widened.
“Wow. Twelve is cold in Nairobi. We’re actually warming up this time of year. My brother won’t believe that I braved this in sandals,” she said, grinning.
“Might have been more tolerable a few hours ago.” She was enjoying this? First-time trip. New country. Maybe adrenaline was warming her up.
“Jack suggested that I wait and buy a few warm items here, since nothing in our stores was suitable for your winters,” she said.
“Makes sense,” he said. He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, unsure of what else to say. He couldn’t talk about the weather the entire way home. How was this supposed to work for months? He hated gray areas, and he wasn’t quite sure how to treat her. Child-care helper or family friend?
The silver bracelets on her wrist sounded like wind chimes every time she reached up to touch her earring. She rubbed her hands in her lap and looked out the window. There wasn’t much she could see from the freeway in the dark. He looked at the dash clock, wishing the airport was closer to his house.
“Thank you,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m...I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m grateful for being invited into your home. I’ll do what I can to help while I’m here.”
Ben scratched his jaw, then settled his hand back on the wheel. He couldn’t really take credit for inviting her, though Jack had insisted that Ben would be doing both him and his friend’s sister a huge favor. Jack had never asked him for anything before. He’d said her family wanted to be sure she’d be safe...with good people. Her brother did take the phone and speak to him briefly during one of the calls. Sounded like a sharp guy. Joked about keeping her safe, especially from men. Despite his tone, Ben knew he wasn’t joking. He couldn’t blame him. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Hope Alwanga could easily land a job as a fashion model and never make it back to her medical career. She’d be turning a head or two during her stay.
“Jack told me you’re in medicine. Pediatrics?” he asked, refocusing.
“No. Well, yes, a few young patients at the emergency room I’m interning in right now, but mostly adults. Eventually, I’ll join my parents’ orthopedic practice. They work a lot with professional athletes.”
Whew. She came from a family of docs. And money, or so it sounded, if they were working with athletes. And she was here, of all places, to help out with his kids? He’d been told that she was stressed, but stable, and needed a break...but, shoot, a break to him would be the Bahamas.
“So you must have a lot of little nieces or nephews,” he said. “Younger siblings?” Some sort of experience with watching kids?
“No. I’m the youngest. It’s just my older brother, Simba—Jack’s friend—and me. I can’t wait to meet your children, though.”
This time Ben laughed.
Forget a few months. Hope wasn’t going to last a day in his house.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_356a7aca-093e-5834-8977-4c71a834b388)
Dear Diary,
Sometimes I close my eyes so that everyone will leave me alone. But I’m not really asleep. I hear everything. They fight because of me.
HOPE HAD WORKED with enough patients to know how to read body language, an important skill, given that many “cushioned” or omitted facts in their medical history or medication compliance out of sheer embarrassment. The hesitations. The flinches. Nervous laughter. Jack and Simba had assured her that she’d be doing Ben a favor and that he’d jumped at their idea of having her stay at his place and help with his kids for three months. But he sounded much more skeptical than enthusiastic. She wasn’t so sure the man wanted her in his house any more than she wanted to be in anyone’s way.
Oh, but this? She leaned her head back against the seat and looked out the window. Simba was so right. She needed this break. The good parts and the not so good, like over twenty-four hours of planes and layovers. She could have done without that. But she’d never in her life felt so free. This was spectacular. Ever since they’d exited the freeway, she’d been entranced by the dazzling lights that trimmed shops and street lamps. It was like a fairy tale. A scene out of a movie. Sure, a few places in Nairobi would set out some decorations at Christmas, but these were lights on steroids by comparison. She’d never seen anything like it.
“We’re here,” Ben said, startling her. He turned left onto a street lined with houses separated only by a few meters. Even in the dark, the glow from windows and entry lights revealed a well-manicured neighborhood.
“Oh. My. Gosh,” she said, gaping at the house he approached. Forget fairy tale. After reading about it in stories, she now knew what “Santa’s workshop” really meant. And she was going to get to live in it. Her pulse picked up. Chuki wasn’t going to believe this.
The house looked as if all the colors of a Masai village had been brought to life and showered with Serengeti stars. A sleigh with St. Nicholas—or Santa Claus dressed the American way. Giant wrapped gifts held by elves in green hats. Trees made of nothing but white lights. Even the roofline and windows sparkled.
“Christmas is celebrated quite early here,” she said. “Your children are so lucky.”
“Not celebrated yet, just decorated. The commercial side of things. Thanksgiving comes first in the US,” he said, turning left into the driveway across from Santa’s workshop. He shoved the gear into Park and turned off the ignition. “This is my house.” He sank back in the driver’s seat. Hope looked through the windshield.
No lights. Nothing. Save for a lit doorway. Hope quickly stamped out the hint of disappointment she had no right to feel. She smiled.
“It’s beautiful.” She unbuckled her seat belt and put her hand on the door.
“Wait a sec,” Ben said, squinting from the reflection of lights in the car mirror. “I don’t know if Jack told you, but my daughter... Maddie... She doesn’t—”
“I know,” Hope said, placing her hand on his arm. It was a reflex. Reassurance. Sympathy. Her bedside manner. But her fingers warmed, and she pulled back when he stared at her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m aware and understand,” she said, hoping the words explained her touch.
“Okay.” He got out and went around back. Hope cringed when the rush of cold came through his open door. She took a deep breath, then exited, hurrying up the flagstone path. Her teeth chattered as she rubbed her arms and waited for him, but she didn’t mind too much. She had a great view of the display across the street from here.
The front door swung open before he made it. A woman in beige pants and a blue tunic-length sweater scanned her from head to toe.
“You must be freezing,” she said, ushering her in. “I’m Ben’s mother-in-law. You can call me Nina.”
“Nice to meet you, Nina,” Hope said, shaking her hand. “I’m Hope.”
“Yes, I think either Jack or Ben mentioned it. It’s a lovely name. Is it short for anything?”
Hope raised her forehead and shrugged with a smile.
“No, just Hope.” She knew what Nina meant by the question. She was expecting a more ethnic name. Her mother was of Luo descent and had decided to combine their common practice of giving their children both a Western name and a Luo name, based on the events of the day of birth. She’d been named only Hope, because it was what her parents were clinging to when she was diagnosed with a hole in her heart as a baby.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look just like that beautiful actress... What’s her name? She won an award... Lupita something,” she said, waving her finger, trying to make the connection.
“I know who you mean. I’ve been told we look like sisters, and I’m thinking of cutting my hair very short like hers. It seems so much easier.”
“You’d be twins for sure. Come on into the living room,” Nina said just as Ben pushed through the door, maneuvering one suitcase inside and setting it against the wall. He took a stack of what looked like mail out from under his arm and set it on a wooden console, then quickly retrieved the second suitcase from where he’d left it on the front landing and kicked the door shut with his heel.
“I take it you’ve met,” he said, looking up as he took his keys out of the pocket of his jeans and set them next to the mail.
“Of course we met,” Nina said, brushing her hand through the air. “Unfortunately, I need to run or Eric is going to get grouchy. I spoiled that man, and now he can’t even fix his own dinner. Listen, Ben. I made sure Maddie’s homework got done, so you’re set for tomorrow morning. No sign of a fever or anything, but I sent her to take a shower. Chad was on the potty for quite a while before he went. I made a pot of vegetable minestrone for dinner, and everyone has eaten—”
“I’d ordered pizza before leaving and told them to have it here at five-thirty. Wasn’t it delivered?” Ben asked. Nina cocked her head and tucked her graying chin-length hair behind her ear. Hope felt like a third wheel all of a sudden, not sure if she should sit on the sofa or keep standing. She desperately needed to use the restroom, but the insistent line of Nina’s mouth and twitch at Ben’s temple kept her from interrupting.
“I put the pizza boxes in the fridge. I really didn’t mind cooking,” Nina said, grabbing her purse. “Oh, Chad said that you promised he could help with inflating that bed, so we went ahead and took care of it. He’s playing on it right now, and Ryan is sleeping. He drank his entire bottle beforehand.”
“Great,” Ben said, cranking his neck to the side and back. “You took care of everything perfectly. I better walk you to your car before Eric wonders what happened to you.”
“Well, maybe I should take a few minutes and go over some kid things with Hope and—”
“Nina. I’ll take it from here,” he said, putting his hand on Nina’s back to guide her out. “I’ll be right back, Hope. Make yourself at...comfortable.”
Not at home.
“I really need to use the restroom, if you don’t mind,” she said, slipping the tote handles off her shoulder.
“First door on your left is a powder room,” Ben said.
“Nice meeting you, Hope,” Nina called as Ben followed her out the front door. As the door closed, Hope overheard her telling Ben that she was hurt that he wouldn’t be needing her anymore. Clearly there were undercurrents here she hadn’t anticipated.
But all she cared about right now was peeing.
* * *
BEN LOCKED THE door behind him, rubbed his face with his hands, then exhaled. Why did he let everything Nina did or said get to him? He toed off his sneakers and turned. Hope was staring at him. For the next three months, the only place he could be alone in his house was going to be his bedroom.
“I, um, don’t know what you’d like me to do,” she said.
“Oh.” He patted his jeans. What did he need her to do? He’d never had a houseguest or a live-in anything. Granted, he’d spent most of his married life deployed. “You probably want to settle in, right? Or are you hungry?” He was starving as if there was no tomorrow. No way soup was going to cut it for him. The mere thought of vegetable soup annoyed him. It was the way Nina had said it. As if he was to blame for Chad being plugged up and Maddie not feeling well. As if he fed them takeout three meals a day. They were veggie pizzas, for crying out loud. A complete meal. He’d eaten his fair share of restaurant leftovers growing up and he was doing just fine. Then again, maybe it was a good thing there was healthy soup to offer Hope. Her being in medicine and all.
“I’m famished,” she said. “I’d love a shower, too, whenever you are all done with the bathroom.”
“Let me check on the kids real quick. If my daughter isn’t using it, it’s yours. I have my own in my room.” He glanced around the place, from living room to kitchen. “Sit wherever you like. I’ll be right back.”
Ben hurried down the hall. Things might not feel so weird if the kids came out. Buffers. He could hear Maddie still puttering in the bathroom at the end of the hall. He cracked open Ryan’s door. Sound asleep, but the telltale gurgling sound of congestion wasn’t good. Please get through the night, buddy.
“Chad?” He crossed the hall and pushed open Chad’s door. The kid had a slightly bigger room than Ryan and Maddie, but Maddie liked the way hers overlooked the backyard and had a window seat. It made sense to set up the inflatable bed in Chad’s room for that reason. Plus, he wasn’t sure how Maddie would take to a stranger in her room, and nights would get awkward if he went in to check on Ryan and Hope was sleeping there. This way, maybe they could alternate night calls if Ryan was teething or had another ear infection. But even with its extra room, he couldn’t see how those two suitcases were going to fit. He hadn’t even thought about emptying a few of Chad’s dresser drawers, but maybe tomorrow he’d clear the top two that Chad couldn’t get into.
“Daddy!” Chad leaped up from zooming cars along the inflated mattress set in a corner of the room. He hugged Ben’s leg. “I want to sleep on that tonight.”
“Sorry, bud, but remember what I told you about having a visitor? She won’t be able to fit in your car bed.”
“But I like this one,” he said, throwing himself on it and spreading his arms and legs.
“Come say hi. We’ll talk about this later.”
“But—”
“Now, Chad. You can have a snack if you’re still hungry. Come on.”
Chad rolled off the bed and stomped past Ben. Hope was sitting at the breakfast table, digging in her bag.
“Hope, this is Chad.” Good luck with him.
“Hi, Chad,” she said, beaming. She set her bag aside. “How old are you?”
Chad twisted his body around Ben’s right leg and then looped around the left in a figure-eight. Ben picked him up and set him on his feet.
“Say hello to Miss Hope.”
“Hello, Miss Hope. Could you sweep on my car bed?”
Hope kept smiling but gave Ben an inquisitive look.
“I don’t have a guest room. There’s an inflated mattress in Chad’s room he’s taken to. The novelty will wear off soon. I’m sorry it’s not a real bed.”
“It’s no problem.” She leaned her arms on her lap and brought her face closer to Chad’s level. “I think your bed is special just for you, but I don’t mind if you want to take naps on mine in the afternoons.”
“Good luck with that.” Ben chuckled. Her smile widened. She had a really nice smile.
“Are you living with us because my mommy’s body broke?” Chad asked.
Ben’s chest cramped. Hope’s smile faded, and the corners of her eyes creased in sympathy.
“I’m only visiting for a while and helping out because everyone who lives in a house should help out. Right?” Chad grimaced. If she got him to nap and help out more with his own cleanup, she’d be a miracle worker, Ben thought. “And then I’ll go back to my home on the other side of the world,” she said.
Ben nodded and knelt down by Chad. He appreciated that Hope had set the stage, making sure his son knew she’d be leaving. In a planned way. Not unexpected, the way their mom left. The idea of his kids actually getting attached to her hadn’t crossed his mind when her visit was arranged. It was just a few months. But what if they did grow to like her and then lost her? He cursed to himself. Given the new situation, he realized that he really did need to find a new therapist for Maddie.
“Is that where my mommy is? Are you going to trade places again, so my mommy will come back from the other side of the world?”
Hope pressed her fingers against her lips, and her eyes glistened.
“I’m sorry. I said the wrong thing,” she said, shaking her head at Ben.
“No, it’s not you,” he said. God knew, Chad had a way of turning anything Ben said upside down, inside out and backward. He’d been told and had read on the internet about how kids Chad’s age and younger perceived death. How literal they were about everything. Chad often asked when Zoe would be coming back, a question that upset Maddie every time. Ben had started keeping a doorknob pick on his dresser after she began locking her bedroom door when Chad wouldn’t stop asking about their mom.
He ruffled Chad’s hair.
“Hey, buddy. Remember that I told you mommy’s not coming back? She’s not on the other side of the world. She died and went to heaven.”
Chad’s shoulders rose and sank. “Okay. Can I have some pizza? Grandma said it would conti-paste me, even if I pooed the size of a dinosaur when you were gone.”
“Then, I’d say you earned a piece. Grab a seat. You can have a slice, then it’s bedtime.”
Hope’s lips parted as Chad climbed onto the chair next to hers. She was either speechless at how fast Chad switched gears or afraid to say anything more to the kid.
“Let me help you with the pizza,” she said.
“I’m assuming you’d prefer hot soup. Especially after freezing out there. Nina is a great cook. I’m sure it’s excellent. And healthy. So don’t let the fact that we’re eating pizza sway you,” he said, pulling two pizza boxes out of the fridge. He didn’t mind cold pizza for breakfast, but this was dinner. He wanted them hot. He opened a cabinet and grabbed a microwaveable dish.
“My parents always insist on home cooking. It’s probably why I suffer from fast-food rebellion. And for the first time, my parents are too far to hover.” Hope stood at the end of the counter, sucking in her lower lip and gazing at the slices he was placing on a dish.
“You want pizza?” he asked. She was around twenty-five, wasn’t she? And her parents still hovered? His mom had never had time to hover, though he imagined that Zoe’s parents probably had.
Hope crinkled her nose. “I just traveled clear across the planet. Doesn’t that count for earning it?” she said, winking at Chad. “I love pizza. You wouldn’t deny me my first slice on American soil, would you?”
Ben grinned. “You can have as much as you want.”
He took the pot on the stove and popped it into the fridge, then started the microwave.
“I’m going to check on Maddie. Help yourself when it’s ready, just make sure it’s not too hot before Chad digs in,” Ben said.
The bathroom door was ajar, and the light was off in it. He knocked on Maddie’s door. No answer.
“Hey, Mads. There’s pizza if you want. I’m coming in, okay?” He tried giving her privacy, since she was a girl, but sometimes it was tough not knowing whether to let himself in or not. He opened the door slowly, giving her time to shove the door shut if she was dressing. “Mads?”
She was already in bed with her eyes closed. Her bedside lamp was on, but he knew she didn’t like the room totally dark. He touched her forehead. It felt okay. He walked over to her closet, turned the light on, then left its door open. He clicked the lamp off so the light wouldn’t be on her face all night. Homework done or not, he was going to let her stay home tomorrow.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_7c4f8e5b-6d11-57a4-a7cb-65036dd448b8)
Dear Diary,
I wish I didn’t ever have to go to school again. Sara keeps talking about her new puppy. Daddy said no to the one Mommy got. It was supposed to be a present for him staying home. I think he wants to go away.
HOPE COULD NOW add jet lag to her list of worldly experiences. She needed caffeine. The last time she’d made her own coffee, she’d used a French press, not a drip machine like Ben had, but she knew how to follow instructions. She set up the filter and coffee grounds she’d found in the cabinet overhead, then turned on the coffeemaker. To her relief, it gurgled and started to fill. Thank goodness Ben didn’t mind ordering take-out food. Actual cooking was beyond her abilities.
She padded quietly to where one of her suitcases still sat against the wall by the entry. Ben had carried the one that had her clothes and necessities in it to Chad’s room last night. This one would get emptied today. It was mostly filled with gifts Anna and Jack had asked her to take to the kids for them. What weighed it down were the medical texts her father told her she should take along, so that her brain didn’t atrophy.
She got down on her knees, unlocked the suitcase and leaned the upper half back against the wall. Cooing came from a white baby monitor set on the end table next to the couch. Did Ben have another unit in his room? Or did he forget this one here last night?
A blur of orange caught her eye as something—or someone—scurried from the hall and disappeared into the kitchen. Two big eyes spied on her from behind the counter. Hope pretended not to notice and instead began taking gift-wrapped items out and carefully setting them down on the carpet next to her.
“Hmm. I think this present is for the baby, and this one, I was told, had to make it into the hands of the older boy.” She rummaged as if she’d lost something. “Did I forget the present Jack and Anna said was for their niece?”
A little girl Hope knew had to be Maddie inched closer. The pumpkin-dotted hem of her orange nightgown skimmed the floor, and she hugged a stuffed monkey to her chest. Tangled hair framed her delicate face.
“I see I’m not the only one up early,” Hope said. “Good morning. I’m Hope, one of your uncle Jack and auntie Anna’s friends. You must be Maddie.”
The girl gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“I had better find the present they sent you, then. They’d never forgive me.” Hope pulled out the package she knew was Maddie’s and held it out. Maddie got down on the carpet, set her monkey aside and began to unwrap. Her eyes lit up at the wooden keepsake box carved with elephants.
“You like it?” Hope asked. Maddie gave her a silent yes.
The cooing from the monitor turned into a staccato cry. Hope was going to assume that Ben forgot the monitor. They hadn’t really gone over how things would work. How much she’d help versus getting out on her own to enjoy her time here.
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Rula Sinara
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Does following her passion mean losing her way? Marine Ben Corallis is an expert at facing death, but nothing comes close to the terror that grounds him when his wife is killed in a car accident the day he returns from duty. He′s left to raise an infant, a toddler and a ten-year-old girl who hasn′t uttered a word since her mother′s death.It′s hard not to care for the widowed marine with three young children. Yet he′s still grieving, too burdened with guilt to fall in love again. And Hope Alwanga′s future as a doctor awaits her on the other side of the world, in Nairobi. If two such opposites can′t agree on a common country, how can they ever create a safe place to call home?