Moore Than Forever (17 page)

“What’s up?” he cocked his head.

“I was thinking. Do you want to just go down to City Hall and get married before we go?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No. I’m not. This way with us being married, if something should happen,” she didn’t finish her sentence.

Shaking his head no, “Mia, from a legal standpoint should something happen to either or both of us, we have everything locked down, married or not. It’s all taken care of. I’m all for getting married sooner rather than later, but you know what, you deserve a wedding. We deserve to celebrate with everyone we love.”

“But I don’t need,” she began her protest.

“No, you don’t need. But what I would like for you to have, what I’d like for us to be able to share together, are wonderful memories of a day we’ve waited for since we were kids. This was our dream, Mia. Me and you. Married. That was our dream.”

Nodding, “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

Taking a sleepy Nathaniel from him, she laid him down in his crib. Standing beside her, Schooner pulled her close to him. “And this is the other part of our dream, Baby Girl,” they stood and watched him as he fell asleep, this beautiful little angel who brought light to everyone’s life.

“Here’s what I think,” he began, “let’s go to Zambia and make some dreams come true for other people, and then we’ll come home and make the rest of our dream come true. How does that sound?”

Mia smiled and nodded. She couldn’t speak for fear her voice would crack. Here was this man, this beautiful man, who told her that she made him a better man. That she made him want to be a better man. How could that be? It was he that made her a far better person. Didn’t he see that?

As she stood looking at Nathaniel’s sweet face, she wondered what Schooner would think if he knew all her secrets. Would he still look at her the same way? Would he still feel that she made him a better man?

Chapter Thirty-one

Driving down the Jacaranda lined streets of Lusaka, Mia was amazed at how the city was so cosmopolitan, its vitality exuding a different and unique beat than she was used to hearing.

“I don’t know what I expected. I knew it was the capital, but somehow the wilds of Africa were in my head.”

Joined by Berto, his wife Marit and their daughter, Liliana, who had just completed her freshman year at Yale, they were doing a mini-tour prior to heading over to the first hospital facility.

Turning around in his seat, Berto explained, “You are going to see a huge divergence in lifestyles here, from walled suburban communities to shantytowns. There’s been a huge influx of residents from rural areas into the city. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been a boomtown and unemployment is at about sixty percent.”

“Sixty percent? Holy smokes. That is beyond significantly high,” Mia frowned, as she watched the scenery pass outside the van’s window.

“This afternoon, we will visit Kabwata Village and that’ll give you an opportunity to really get a flavor for the people and the culture,” Berto explained.

“And to shop,” Marit added.

“You just said the magic words,” Schooner smiled at Mia.

Pulling up to the first facility, Berto explained a lot of what they could expect. “This is a newer facility and you’ll find from a technology standpoint they are pretty well equipped. This is one of the facilities where I think we can help fill in the gaps in their PT Rehab area with equipment, but in general, this facility is offering premiere level service in Lusaka. Unfortunately, they can only see so many patients. So not everyone is getting this level of treatment.”

After touring the PT Rehab center, Schooner, Mia and Berto sat down with the department director and Marit and Lily went to go tour the pediatrics’ floor.

“I’m very impressed with what you’ve got in place. What’s visibly missing are the multi-stack/multi-station gyms, and I would venture to guess you could probably use a few more leg extension/leg curl stations.”

The director, a distinguished grey haired gentleman who appeared to be in his mid-50’s, laughed, “Have you been reading my memos to administration?”

“If we can put in just two of the multi-stacks, you’ll be able to see so many more patients a day,” Schooner continued to survey the facility.

“With just those pieces of equipment, we should be able to accommodate at least a fifteen percent increase in patients. And that’s a conservative estimate.”

Nodding, Schooner tapped his finger against his lips, “I don’t see any issues with us being able to provide that.” He walked over to where a therapist was working with a patient who had sustained a leg injury and watched them work through a series of exercises.

“I understand we’re going to have PT’s here on loan as part of a scholarship program you’re setting up,” the director mentioned as they were departing the facility.

“What we’re envisioning is to bring them over to work at the facilities here in Lusaka first as they acclimate to being in country and then cycle them through some of the more rural facilities. We’re going to try and assess some equipment and training needs for those areas, as well.”

“Let me know how I can be of help in all this, Coach Schooner,” the director’s smile glinted in his eyes.

The surprise on Schooner’s face at being addressed as ‘Coach Schooner’ was evident. In his eyes flashed a deep emotional response that wouldn’t have been detected by anyone but Mia. On his face was his All-American boy smile. But it wasn’t his real smile.

Schooner Moore was wearing a mask and Mia Silver was wondering why.

The next stop brought them to a hospital that wasn’t nearly as financially endowed. Walking the old tile hallway, Mia’s heart felt heavy. There didn’t seem to be the hope in these corridors as there had been in the first hospital.

“Adjacent to this, on the property is where we will be breaking ground later this week for the new rehab facility,” Berto explained. “There’s also a small orphanage that is part of the facility.”

Looking at the expressions fleeting across Liliana Castillo’s face, Mia instinctively knew that they were both feeling a sense of uneasiness and frustration. There was so much that could be done to help, and so many superfluous things in their everyday lives, things that they would never miss, that could make a significant difference in the lives of these people. Walking over to her, Mia could feel the protective force field she had erected around herself. Mia knew it well. Lily might be protected by Human Shield v.2, a wall impenetrable by other human beings, but it didn’t put Mia off, after all she had been the inventor of the original Human Shield v.1.

Casually slinging an arm over the teen’s shoulder, “I am feeling positively disgusted at the decadence that I call my life.”

Lily looked at Mia, her almond-shaped golden brown eyes, widening and tearing up slightly. Nodding, she didn’t speak, but also did not move away from Mia’s embrace.

A handsome young doctor approached, coming down the hall toward them. In light blue scrubs, a surgical mask still hanging around his neck, he appeared to have been coming straight from the operating room. And then it happened, for the second time that morning.

“Coach Schooner,” he exclaimed, loudly.

Mia watched as Schooner visibly stiffened at the moniker, until the young doctor smiled, and in that split second, Schooner Moore’s face emoted pure joy as the two men came together in the hearty, warm embrace of brothers who had been separated for a lifetime.

From the moment she spied the young doctor’s smile, Mia could feel the tears spurt forth from her eyes and begin their lazy trail down her cheeks. She would’ve recognized that smile anywhere.

The two men still held each other tight, swaying slightly. Where they had gone in their lives, who they had become and why they were once again together were inextricably tied together and always would be. This was fate at its best, taking paths and intertwining them, twisting them, turning them and then bringing them back together in a sublime homecoming that neither of them could have ever imagined. Such sweetness of fate was the ultimate gift.

“I want you to meet Mia,” Schooner was wiping tears from his face with the back of his hand.

Wiping his own tears, “You got the girl!”

“Yeah, it took me awhile, but I got the girl,” Schooner clapped him on the back.

And turning to Mia with his brilliant smile, the gap between his front teeth making her think, “the only thing he’s missing is the soccer ball,” was Dr. Sonkwe Banda, Schooner’s eight year old star goalie from the Macha Soccer Camp.

Chapter Thirty-two

A man of great cheer and boundless energy, Sonkwe Banda proudly led the tour through the facility. It was apparent that he wanted one member of that tour group to be proud of him and his achievements.

Born of the heartache of that summer, Schooner was seeing firsthand the results of selfless behavior and of playing to his strengths. The nine children of Macha that became his “assistants” were as affected by the magic of that summer as he had been. They were his anchor, his reason to get up every day and drive himself as hard as he could. His commitment to them had kept him from falling into a deep depression - Mia was gone and his bright tennis career shattered.

And now, a quarter of a century later, he was building a physical therapy rehabilitation center at a facility where his goalie led the pediatrics’ department.

“How does Schooner know Dr. Banda?” Lily asked Mia, as they trailed behind the rest checking out the different wards.

“After our freshman year in college, Schooner came over here with Dr. Faulkes to set up a facility in Macha. His hand was in a cast, so he couldn’t do too much, but he realized that all these families were traveling long distances for medical attention and they would bring their children, who would end up sitting around waiting all day. So, with the help of nine kids from the village, Schooner set up a soccer and fitness camp for the kids. They played soccer and had tournaments and he taught them about exercise and nutrition and how to do CPR and other lifesaving techniques. Dr. Banda was his goalie.”

“Is this the first time they’ve seen each other since that summer?” Lily’s smile was bright.

“Yes, it is. Schooner has a picture of him holding a soccer ball. I recognized him immediately when he smiled.”

Mia was taken by Lily’s awe. It was the first time she’d seen the girl really smile since they had met.

“And now he’s building this facility here and they are together again, that is incredible. What are the chances?”

“I know, right?” Mia laughed.

“I really feel like I should be doing something over here, Mia, not sitting in a classroom in New Haven with a bunch of pompous, over-educated professors and rich, erudite kids. I know I can do so much more here, like Schooner did.”

They stopped to watch a blonde man working alone at his desk. He didn’t have an office, his desk resided against a wall at the end of a hallway. In front of him, spread out was a variety of white plastic triangles in different sizes, a palette of paints and brushes. With a fine-tipped brush in hand, he meticulously painted the minute details of a pupil and an iris onto one of the white plastic shells.

Sensing he was being watched, he looked up, his warm blue eyes welcoming Mia and Lily.

“Hello,” he spoke in a soft, German-accented voice.

“Hi, I hope we are not bothering you,” Mia was fascinated by what he was doing.

“Not at all,” he assured them.

“Are those prosthetic eyes?” Lily was in awe.

“Yes, these are the shells and after I paint them, they get cooked,” he explained.

“For some reason, I always envisioned they’d be like plastic balls. Do you mind if I photograph you?” Mia asked.

“Not at all,” his smile was as warm as his eyes, “they used to be more like plastic balls in the past, but the body continually tried to reject that. In recent years, doctors have begun to use implants that the body will accept and will actually become vascularized. These prosthetics that I make then sit on top of the implant.”

“Like a big contact lens almost?” Lily was trying to envision it.

“Yes, exactly like that.”

“Why do most people lose eyes?” she watched him closely putting in the fine lines of brown iris.

“A variety of reasons, accidents, disease, infection.”

Pointing to several small shells, “Are those for children?” she asked, alarm in her own eyes.

He nodded, “Yes. I am just making a pair for a child who had cancer.”

“In their eyes,” both Mia and Lily said in unison, shocked.

“Yes, it is called retinoblastoma and it affects infants and toddlers, often before the age of two.”

Mia put her camera aside, suddenly unable to breathe. Those were babies Nathaniel’s age. Parents just like her and Schooner.
How could that be? How did they deal with that?

“Is it deadly?” Lily was the first to speak.

“If not treated in time, like any other cancer,” the sadness in his kind eyes surfaced. He had seen too many children whose diagnosis had been not been made in time, “Unfortunately, if the diagnosis is delayed or if the tumors don’t respond to other therapies, the eye must be removed to save the child’s life. The goal is to stop the cancer before it metastasizes, even if that means losing one or both eyes.”