Like Dandelion Dust (33 page)

Jesper found Jack watching. The man put his arm around Jack’s shoulders. “They understand God’s teaching. Better to give than to receive.”

Jack didn’t know what to say. He could hardly wait to tell Molly. What children back home would act that way, would think of others the way these kids did? Here they had nothing to their name, but when given a gift, they couldn’t wait to share it. Back on the damaged wall, Jack took up his place with a hammer and a bag of nails alongside. Working next to him was an orphanage volunteer named Franz. Franz spoke broken English, and, like Jesper, he was talkative.

“God saved my family.” Franz positioned a nail and sent it through a new piece of wood with a single blow from his hammer. He was built like Mike Tyson, but he had the tenderness of a child. “We have no food, dying on streets. Me and wife beg God for mercy, for help.” He motioned to Jesper. “Next day Jesper come to us and ask work at orphanage for food and house.” He pointed up to the hazy blue sky overhead. “Good God, our God. Very good.”

“Yes.” Jack would’ve had trouble denying the fact.

The day trips took place at three that afternoon, during naptime for the orphans. The college guys—including their group leader—were going to the roughest neighborhood in the area. The Petty family was headed for a busy street of townspeople a few blocks away, and the Campbells to another. They would take food bags and supplies to the people and distribute booklets written in Creole, explaining the message of hope in Christ and the path to salvation.

The pastor back at Bethel Bible Church had encouraged them that they didn’t need to do anything more than smile at the people and be kind. “Anyone can do this; theological training isn’t necessary. Remember . . . it’s a
work
trip. The booklet says it all.”

As they set out, Molly turned to Jack. “I’ll be watching.”

He nodded. They’d talked about it the night before. Being out on the street that afternoon would give them their only chance to make a plan. Then, the next day, they would ask to go to the same place, the same neighborhood. From there they would figure out their escape.

They had packed lightly for the trip, because there was no way to take their suitcases on a day trip into Port-au-Prince. Whatever they could fit in their backpacks and Molly’s single roll-aboard would be all they could take. So that they wouldn’t raise suspicions the following day, they brought the exact same bags with them for this current day trip.

“Why the suitcase?” Franz was their driver. He gave Molly a funny grin. “You Americans always take bags.”

“I have allergies.” Molly patted her bag. The lie tasted like rotten eggs on her tongue. “This has my food and medicine. In case we’re gone for longer than we expect.”

Franz gave an exaggerated shrug, but he never stopped smiling. “Fine with me. Throw in the back.”

On the way to the neighborhood, Molly leaned around Joey and spoke low near Jack’s ear. “I forgot to tell you. Beth apologized yesterday.”

“Really?” He was surprised. “I sort of figured she still doubted us, like she’d be the first one on our trail when we go.”

“She will be.” Molly angled her head. “But I think she’s done worrying about it. Almost like whatever her fears are, she’s letting them go.”

Jack let the notion settle into his heart. More proof that the faith Beth and Bill lived by was strong enough to change people. He looked out the window and studied the shacks and makeshift tables with wares for sale. There were so many people, all of them existing without any reason for hope.

The people who walked the streets were empty-eyed for the most part. Some sat on street corners, their heads in their hands, waiting for another day to pass. Others were hunched over in front of a table of dusty candy or bottled water, hoping to make a few dollars before evening came.

Only at the orphanage and in the mission house were the Haitian people alive and full of love and joy. Whatever Jack had thought about Christianity in the past, there was no denying its positive impact on their hosts.

Franz drove another ten minutes, then he turned down a narrow alleyway. At the other end, a village of people was gathered in what looked like a small courtyard. “We work here, yes?” Franz glowed at the possibility.

“Yes.” Jack glanced around. Every eye was on them. He had thought once or twice about the possibility that this part of the trip could be dangerous for them, for Joey. He gave Molly a look. “Don’t let go of his hand.”

“I won’t.” He saw the fear in her eyes and he knew. She was afraid of more than the villagers.

Last night after everyone else was asleep, she had climbed into Jack’s bunk and held onto him. “I’m so scared, Jack. What if we get caught?”

“We won’t.” He smoothed her hair and kissed her. “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?”

She buried her head in his shoulder. “I’m serious, Jack. What if it doesn’t work?”

“It will.” The whispered conversation went on for nearly an hour before she fell asleep, her head still on his chest.

Now, her eyes were wide with the enormity of the task that lay ahead of them. They would have to greet people, pass out food and supplies and the church tracts, and somehow make contact with someone who would help them. That, or figure out a way to get lost, and then catch a ride to the airport before anyone found them.

Franz climbed out first. With his big voice and bigger smile, he announced something in Creole. Then he took the food and supply boxes from the back of the truck and set them on the ground. He said something else, and the people drew closer.

“I hope he told them we’re friendly,” Jack said, his voice low.

“Me, too.” Molly clutched Joey.

“Is this the part where we tell people about God?” Joey was excited, but not the least bit worried. He had no idea of all that lay ahead.

“Yes, buddy.” Molly kissed the top of his head. “This is that part.”

They were waiting in the car for the signal from Franz, and at that moment he opened their door and motioned for them to climb out. “People are ready for their gifts.”

Jack knew it was up to him. With Molly terrified and worried about Joey, the three of them wouldn’t be friendly enough to attract the right type of people. His behavior would have to make up for theirs. While Molly and Joey stayed with Franz, Jack would mingle with the people.

The first half hour, they worked so hard filling the people’s needs that they didn’t have time to think of anything else. But after that the crowd started to break up. Somehow word must’ve gotten out, because carloads of people arrived, looking for a handout. The weather was much like South Florida, humid and tropical. Cumulus clouds gathered in the distance, and Jack checked his watch. It was four o’clock. They didn’t have long.

Now and then he looked over the crowd to Molly and Joey and Franz. Once in a while Franz would see someone he knew and follow that person. Sometimes he was gone for three, even four minutes. Once he didn’t return for fifteen. He had explained that he knew people in this area, and that sometimes he needed to visit someone at their house. “They need pray and visit,” he said. “You be fine here.”

The situation was working out perfectly. If Franz was given to brief disappearances, then tomorrow they could use a moment like that to run. But none of it would happen if Jack didn’t figure out a contact. If not today, then tomorrow, when they were fleeing on foot. Someone who could get them to the airport.

“Bondye reme ou,” Jack told each person. “Do you speak English?”

Most of them shook their heads. They took the food and supplies and tracts and didn’t linger around the Americans. Jack began surveying the perimeter of the square. In the distance he saw several cars, each of them with a driver.

He made his way back to Franz and Molly and Joey. “What are they doing?” He pointed to the drivers. “Should I take them some gifts?”

“Why not?” Franz grinned. “They are drivers. Like . . . cabbies in America.” His smile faded. “Most have no work, just sit. Some run drugs for drug lords.”

Jack had wondered as much. In the distance there was a light rumble, the first bit of thunder. “How much longer, Franz?”

“We stay until gifts gone.” He squinted at the sky. It was still sunny where they were. “Or until big storm. Whatever first.”

Molly cast him a nervous glance before turning her attention back to the people. The women and children were gathered around her and Joey—there seemed no shortage of them.

Jack scanned the cars again.

He filled his arms with gift bags and tracts and approached the drivers. Two looked uninterested, and a third was in a conversation with someone—a shady looking older man. But the fourth smiled at him and held out his hand. “Hello, American.”

English! The man spoke English! Jack held up the gift bags and made his way to the man. “Hello! Bondye reme ou.”

“God loves everyone!” The man chuckled. “I speak English, friend.” He leaned out his car window. “What you bring me today?”

Jack gave the man several bags, some with food, some with supplies.

“You keep your book.” He pointed up and winked. “I already know God. Good, good God.”

“Yes.” Jack felt a shiver pass over his spine. Indeed. He looked over his shoulder. Franz was deeply involved in a conversation, and Molly and Joey were still reaching into the supply box, handing out bags. He rested his elbow on the man’s car. “You are a driver?”

“Yes.” He gripped his steering wheel. “God gives Tancredo enough work.” He motioned to the other men. “Others, dirty drivers.” He lowered his voice. “Drugs . . . bad.” His smile was back and he thumped his chest. “Tancredo drive for God.”

Jack would’ve believed anything at that point. He took a breath and steadied himself. “My wife and son and I need a ride to the airport tomorrow. At this time.”

Tancredo clapped his hands. “Yes, I do that. Tomorrow. Same time.”

Jack took a few steps back. He didn’t want to attract attention. “I will pay you a hundred dollars for the ride, okay?”

The man’s mouth hung open. “One hundred?”

“Yes. But you say nothing. God has told us that we must escape tomorrow. For our boy’s safety.” He pointed down the alley. “You meet us at the end of this street. Okay?”

Tancredo looked slightly confused, but he nodded. “God tells you, I say nothing.” He placed his hand over his mouth. “Tancredo drive, nothing more. I meet you in hidden place. End of alley, two streets to the left.”

“End of alley, two streets to the left.” Jack couldn’t believe their luck. A driver who spoke English and understood their need for discretion. From the corner of his eye, he saw Franz walking toward them. Jack took another few steps backward and waved at Tancredo. “Bondye reme ou.”

“Oui, Bondye reme ou!” The driver held up his gift bag and then leaned back against his headrest, resuming his wait for a customer.

“You did good, Jack.” Franz fell in step beside Jack. “You make friends with Haitian people. God smiles at you.”

Jack wasn’t sure what to feel. How could God smile at him? He wasn’t making friends, he was making plans to break the law, to run from his own country. He dismissed the thought and pointed at the supply box. “Are the bags gone?”

“All given out!” Franz held up his hands toward heaven. “God glorified this day, this place.”

The ride back was quiet except for the occasional Bible reference or exclamation by Franz. Jack couldn’t wait to tell Molly what had happened, but he didn’t dare do it until they were alone. As they started back, he turned to Franz. “Can we come back here tomorrow—same place? I told one of the men to bring his friends because we’d be back.”

“Yes, good plan.” Franz grinned and stared at the sky. “Storm will be big tonight.”

Halfway back to the orphanage, they stopped for gas. Rain had just started pelting the area. The station was a cacophony of chaos—fifteen or twenty people selling a hundred worn-out, tired-looking things, and large mounds of trash dotting the perimeter, each with a couple of skinny pigs rooting through them.

As soon as Franz left the car to find the attendant, Jack turned to Molly. “It’s perfect. I met a driver.”

“I saw.” Their conversation was hushed, their words fast. Once more Joey was asleep between them, so there was no danger of him hearing. “What’s the plan?”

“His name is Tancredo. We meet him there tomorrow. We’ll keep your bag with us at all times, our backpacks on. When Franz goes off to meet with one of the villagers, we wander down the alley and run for it. The driver will be waiting.”

He gave her arm a tender pat. “I have it all figured out, Molly. You can relax.”

“I feel sick.” She pulled Joey close and buried her face in his blond hair. Jack wasn’t sure, but he thought she was crying. Tears stung his own eyes, too. They were doing what they had to do for their son, the only way they knew to protect him.

Jack would like to have left on the first or second day, but they needed to follow the schedule, needed a day in the village in order to make connections. And now they were just one day from seeing it all work out.

When they got back to the orphanage, they put Joey down for a short rest and made a plan to play cards with Beth and Bill in the common room before dinner. The college guys and the group leader had gathered with them that morning for breakfast and a briefing about the dangers of heading into the village. That night the group would split up so the guys could work with the orphans. Jack was glad for the sense of privacy. Before meeting with Beth and Bill, he led Molly to the corner of their room.

“Listen, I have an idea.” He looked over his shoulder—no one was listening in on their conversation. His eyes met Molly’s again, and he spoke quickly. “Tomorrow I’ll take one of my T-shirts, rip it and get it dirty, and smear it with my blood.”

“Jack!” The color drained from her face. “That sounds like a horror film.”

“No, I’ll just prick my finger. It won’t be much blood, just enough that it’ll look like something bad happened to us. I’ll leave that on the street when we take off with the driver.”

Molly still looked shocked. But gradually, as the information sank in, she nodded. “So it might throw them off the trail?”