A British Bride by Agreement (17 page)

“Here you are.” Ian Griffin, the food
director strode up to Jonathan. “I thought you’d forgotten our meeting.”

Jonathan shifted the little boy in his
arms to shake Ian’s hand. “I just wanted to get to know some of the people you
help.”

“You mean, you help, Mr. Steller?”

“No, I do very little of the helping.
And I need to change that.” He toured the rows of foodstuffs and met the people
who worked to distribute the goods to hungry families. More than once, he found
himself choking back emotion. It was as if he was seeing God’s provision in action.
He needed to spend more time here.
The realization that this
charity work was about God and not himself, was sinking in with crystal
clarity.
He needed to change.

A half an hour later, Jonathan headed
for the last charity group of the day. It was the Kinder AIDS Group headed up
by Anita Garrison. “Lord, whatever
You
have for me
here, I’m ready. Change me. Change my attitude, no matter what it takes.”

As he got out of his car, he saw Ms.
Garrison sitting on the front porch of a weathered looking home, with two
children on her lap.

“I didn’t think you’d really come.”

“Ms. Garrison, have some faith in me.”

She stood and shooed away the children.
“We’ll see about that.”

She led him inside of a clean but shabby
home. Children roamed everywhere, but they looked neat and seemed happy. She
led him into a bedroom with bunk beds in layers of three. “I need to buy more
of these, but since you cut my budget, I can’t.” She bent over and pulled out
worn pallets. “Some of the younger children sleep on the floor.” She stomped
her foot on the wooden floor.
“The hard cold floor.”

Jonathan tugged at his necktie.

“Come here, baby.” She scooped up a
blonde haired blue-eyed girl who looked to be about two. “Smile for the nice
man.”

Black rotting front teeth marred the
lovely picture.

Inwardly he recoiled at the disfiguring
sight.

“My kids need dental work.” She set the
child down and walked into what looked like an infirmary. A child was lying on
a cot with a woman pressing a cloth to the side of his face. “This is Sammy. He’s
five.”

“Hey, big guy.
Got a stomach
ache?”

The little boy with deep brown skin
stared back at him. “He’s had a toothache for the last three days. Probably
needs to be pulled, but I don’t have any money for dental work.”

Jonathan shoved his hands in his pockets
and studied this woman. By the fierce glint in her eyes, she would fight to the
death for these children. They were blessed to have someone who cared this
deeply for them. “Let me look into—”

She snatched a child who walked by and
held her in front of her. “Mr. Steller, I’ve been helping children with AIDS
for over twenty years. I need your commitment that you are going to give these
children what they need to survive—”

Screaming drew their attention to the
back door. A little boy walked in bent over with another older child helping
him. Blood poured from his mouth, down his shirt, and splattered on the floor.

“H—he fell off the slide.” The older boy
blurted out.

Jonathan froze. He’d done enough
research to be comfortable around people with AIDS, but not with their blood.

“Move out of the way.” Anita slipped on
latex gloves before lifting up the child and raced past Jonathan toward the
infirmary.

Jonathan’s heart pounded as he followed.
But he had to see the good and the ugly of charity to work to understand it.

She laid the child down on a cot covered
in plastic, undressed him, and with a wet cloth wiped the blood from his face
and neck. She shoved the cloth and all his clothes in a bag labeled,
Hazmat

Jonathan watched from a distance,
disturbed by the stinging smell of bleach and the sight of blood. And yet, he
was amazed by her dedication to these children. A dedication he didn’t have.

After the child was cleaned up and bandaged,
Ms. Garrison stood. The front of her shirt was covered in red. “You’d better
go, Mr. Steller. I have too much to do to give you the rest of the tour.”

“It’s not necessary.” His voice
strained. “I can see now that accounting has made a mistake. I believe we
intended to increase your budget by twenty percent not cut it.”

A smile lit up her face, but was soon
clouded with suspicion. “And when will this happen?”

“Today.
You have my
word.”

 
“I’ve misjudged you.”

“I’m heading back to the office to talk with
my staff now to see what we can do.”

Anita gestured. “You might want to
change first.”

He glanced down. Blood lay splattered
across his shirt sleeve.

***

Jonathan lay on the couch in his home
with his hair still wet from his long, hot shower. His expensive hand sewn
shirt stuffed in a bag in the trash. His arm rested over his face. He’d called
his doctor on the way home and his longtime friend assured him, since he had no
cut where the blood went through his shirt, he would be fine.

To make matters worse, on the way home,
he’d phoned Nick to have him up the support to the Kinder AIDS group, when Nick
told him the police had called him about Kevin Gibbs, the manager of Hillsdale
House. He was being taken in for questioning, suspected of selling drugs to the
residents.

Jonathan rubbed his eyes. How could he
be an effective leader if he couldn’t accept the people he was helping? And if
he couldn’t see through the scammers the charity attracted?

Revulsion welled at the memory of those
supposedly recovered addicts. They looked terrible. Wasn’t that a clear enough
clue? And the children he’d seen today? His heart hurt as if pierced by a
sword. Children who should be focused on playing and riding bikes, not infected
with a deadly disease.

How long before his father discovered
the chaos he’d made of the family charity? Maybe he should just sequester
himself in his office and never meet with sick people again. He could focus his
attention on the paperwork involved with the established charities they
supported, and turn all the others asking for money away so he wouldn’t fall
into another trap.

His thoughts drifted toward Dede. She
was the head of the St. Louis Trust and had run the city-based philanthropic
organization for years. After hearing about the Belize orphanage, he’d called
her, but after seeing Emma’s expression when she met Dede at the dinner, he
hadn’t called again. How did Dede do it? As far as he knew, her charity had
never been swindled.

How could God send him to work in a
charity when He knew he would fail at it? His face grew hot with emotion. “God,
wasn’t what Dede did to me enough? Do
You
want to
humiliate me further?” His mind drifted to the three children’s cancer
hospitals he had scheduled to visit next week. How could he watch children with
no hair, ravaged by chemotherapy, trying to play? Just the thought of it made
his stomach clench.

The front door opened. Emma? He shot to
his feet, tucked in his shirt and smoothed back his hair. He’d have to think of
reason for being home so early. He wasn’t sure what she thought of him, or if
she cared for him as he deeply as he did, but he certainly wasn’t going to
reveal to her the shock he’d been through.

She’d agreed to marry a successful man.
He would be that man no matter what he had to do to achieve it.

***

Emma slogged through her front door and
threw her keys on top of a box. She’d met with Franz again, but was still
unable to make a decision as to which design theme she wanted to use.
Alpine modern?
European retro?
Antique German?
None of it her taste, but he had been the
Steller decorator for years and this is what was expected of her. Her
mother-in-law had asked her every day when it was going to be done.

Although grateful to be finished for the
day, when her heels echoed with a hollow sound on wide wood planks, reminding
her there was no one at home for her.
Another night alone in
front of the TV.
But as she neared the kitchen, she heard the shuffling
of refrigerator contents. “Jonathan?”

He pulled his head out of the fridge
with his hair sticking out in all directions. His face looked stricken.

“Why are you home so early? Are you
sick?”

He had a white-knuckle grip on a ketchup
bottle. “Do I look sick?”

“No, I’m just surprised to see you.” She
set the shopping bag with the new cologne she’d just bought him on the counter.
She couldn’t wait to give it to him. “Are you going back to work tonight?”

“No…” His face looked stern. “I thought
I’d stay home.”

Warmth filled her. “I bought you a
present.”

“For me?”
But when he
went to open the bag, his hand shook so hard they rattled the tissue paper. He
snatched them back.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Even before
she asked the question, she knew something was wrong.

He shoved his hands to his hips. “Work is
stressful, that’s all. But nothing I can’t deal with. It was a long day. How
was yours?”

Sadness weighted her shoulders. The
carefully constructed fairytale she had been building on hope was crumbling.
This was no romantic union. No caring husband to share her life with. This was
merely a business deal that left her panting with longing for what could have
been. Her head dropped, pressed down by the revelations swirling through her
mind.

“I was born near the Thames, Jonathan,
not in it.” She lifted her chin. “I’m your wife. Can’t you tell me what’s
wrong?”

The word
wife
hung in the air. Was she? She had a marriage license and a
signed agreement. But did he truly see her as his other half?

He ran his fingers through his hair, his
gaze darting about the room as if searching for an escape hatch. “I went and
visited some of the charities we support today and it got a little hectic.”

“Hectic meaning…”

His gaze fell. “I got some blood on my
sleeve…from a child with AIDS—”

She rushed to his side. “Are you okay? Should
I take you to the ER?”

He stepped back from her, disentangling
her grasp, lest she sense the how over whelmed he felt. “No, I’m fine. I can
handle it. I called my doctor and
it’s
all okay.”

Her heart fell. He wasn’t going to let
her in. A row of knots formed in her stomach. She’d been praying for him
constantly, so why was their relationship growing more distant? Perhaps he was
merely tolerating her, like an enterprise gone sour. “Well then,” she handed
him the gift bag. “It looks like you have everything under control.” She spun
around, hiding the tears welling in her eyes, and headed for her bedroom.

“Em.”

The tenderness wrapped up in that one
syllable stopped her in her tracks. “Yes,” she said without turning around.

“Next week, Wednesday, I’ve set up some
events at three children’s hospitals. Would you consider coming with me?”

She gripped her hands.
Thank you, Lord.
She dabbed her welling
eyes, then whirled around. “I’d love to.”

But he was already staring into an open
refrigerator.

CHAPTER TEN

Emma stacked the colorful blocks in the
hospital playroom for the umpteenth time and let the little girl whose head was
swathed in a white bandage knock it down. The tinkle of her high-pitched
laughter made Emma smile. She loved children.

Many of the parents stuck resolutely by
their own kids, until Emma encouraged them to mingle with the other families
gathered. She snuck a peek at two moms, pleased to see them comparing their
children’s baby pictures.

As Emma moved around the
balloon-decorated area, her gaze searched until it rested on Jonathan. He stood
surrounded by reporters, who were doing a piece on the Steller Foundation and
their plans for the future. She liked how his blond hair was cut in a short
masculine fashion. He wore a crisp, navy blue suit with a faint gray pin
stripe—he’d even asked her to pick out his yellow tie.

She smiled at the memory of him this
morning, holding up a wilted gathering of silk ties, his shirt unbuttoned, his
mussed hair still damp.
A wifely moment.
Oh, that
there could be more of those.

Her ears pricked up at the rich timbre
of his confidant voice. She admired the way he spoke, deftly presenting himself
and the charity to the media, as if he’d been born in front of the camera. Jonathan
was perfect for this job. And he was dedicated to moving the Steller
company
forward.
Whilst her father had
never down an honest day’s work in his life.