Over the Waters (14 page)

"Y
ou're still scheduled to fly home a week from next Saturday, right?" Beth's voice kicked into big-sister mode.

Valerie switched the phone to her other ear. She turned to Max to find him watching her intently. She shot him a smile and rolled her eyes comically, but he quickly looked away.

"And you'll be sure and call me?" Beth said. "The minute your plane lands, right?"

"Yes, Mother," Valerie teased, smiling into the phone. "I fly out February first. You have my itinerary, don't you? I think I get in around nine Saturday night." Speaking the words made her departure seem so near. It was an unsettling thought. In so many ways it was beginning to seem as if she'd been here forever. And now, before she knew it, it would be time to return home.

To what?
She planned to spend a few days with Beth and Dean and the kids in Chicago, but what was there for her when she got back to Kansas City? Could she really return to her job at the agency, go back to the church where she and Will had met--where Will would still be--and pretend that nothing had changed?

"Valerie? Are you there?"

She started at her sister's strident tone in her ear. "I'm here..."

"Oh. I thought we got cut off."

"No. I'm here. But I'd better hang up. I'm using up all Max's minutes."

"Max?"

Valerie cut her eyes to Max. He was watching her again.

"Dr. Jordan," she explained to Beth, flashing Max a smile.

"He's working with a neighboring orphanage. He did a clinic here today and was kind enough to loan me his phone. And hey, you won't believe it, but he's from Chicago."

"Really? What'd you say his name was?"

"Dr. Jordan. Max Jordan."

"No way!" Beth squealed.

"Why? Do you know him?" Valerie grinned at Max again, knowing he was listening intently to her end of the conversation.

"Max Jordan? You mean Dr. Botox? Who
doesn't
know him?"

"What?"

"You're kidding, right? Are you seriously calling me on Dr. Botox's cell phone?"

Valerie glanced at Max, then quickly back to the phone. She turned away from him slightly, anxious to change the subject. Whatever Beth was talking about, it didn't sound like something she wanted to have to repeat to Max after she hung up.

"Seriously, Val, are you really there with
the
Dr. Botox? Oh, man, just wait until I tell Dean."

"I'm not sure what you mean," she hedged.

"Well, the only Dr. Max Jordan I know is this plastic surgeon all the executive's wives in Dean's firm go to. He's the facelift king...well, maybe not facelifts. He does chemical peels and Botox. You know--that new wrinkle treatment they do now. That kind of thing. He's opened up all these clinics around town and he's supposedly one of the richest men in Chicago. I'm talking
filthy
rich. His ads are in the newspaper all the time. Have you actually met him? Is he as handsome in person as he is in the ads?"

Valerie couldn't tell her sister that the very handsome "Dr. Botox" was standing within earshot, smiling down at her. She had a hundred questions for Beth--and two hundred for Max--but right now, she was desperate to get off the phone.

A truck roared by on the road outside the gate, conjuring up a dust devil. She turned away from Max, ostensibly to keep the dust out of her face.

"What's that racket?" Beth asked.

"Oh," she said, seizing upon the convenient distraction.

"It's just a truck on the road. We're...I'm outside. In the courtyard. But...I really do need to go," she stuttered. "I'll call you from the airport, okay? Give my love to Dean and the boys."

Before Beth could ask any more questions about Dr. Botox, Valerie pulled the phone away from her ear and studied the keypad. She punched the off button and handed the phone back to Max, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush that had risen to her cheeks. "Thanks so much."

"You're welcome."

He eyed her in a way that told her he probably had a pretty good idea of Beth's end of the conversation. "Did I hear my name being taken in vain?"

She swiped at an imaginary stain on her skirt and pretended not to hear him, then hated herself for the deceit.

Max pinned her with a stare and tried again. "So your sister's heard of me, I take it?"

She let out a puff of air. "It sounds like everyone has."

"Well, that might be a stretch. But...I suppose I'm pretty well known in the Windy City."

"And...
are
you filthy rich?" She affected a lopsided grin. It did feel good to get this out in the open.

He gave a snort. "Is that what your sister said?"

She nodded.

"I guess it depends on how you define filthy." His gaze panned the orphanage compound. "I think probably every American is filthy rich in comparison to this."

"Good point," she said, feeling properly chastened. "I'm sorry. That was none of my business."

"No. It was a fair question. I've been very...prosperous in my business." He looked down at the ground before meeting her eyes again. "Financial success isn't all it's cracked up to be. Despite popular opinion to the contrary, there are a lot of things money
can't
buy."

The sorrow in his eyes told her he was thinking of his son. She hated that their conversation had somehow come back around to this again. "You're right, of course. But then, some of the best things in life don't cost a nickel either, so I rather think it evens out, don't you?"

He scratched his head, and a slow smile lit his face. "I guess I hadn't thought about it that way."

She followed his line of vision to the west where a bright orange ball of sun was sinking below the wall.

"Oh, and look..." He cocked his head. "A beautiful sunset to prove your point. Did you arrange that?"

She laughed. "I wouldn't dare take the credit. But it is beautiful, isn't it?"
Thank you, Lord, for your perfect timing.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment. "Yes, it is." He turned ninety degrees and glanced out through the gate. "Well, I suppose I should get back before it gets dark. Madame Duval will be wondering what happened to me." Looking down at his feet, he said, "I've been walking in the mornings--just a short walk between the two orphanages. Would...would you like to join me tomorrow?"

"I'd like that very much. What time?"

"I've been going around five-thirty."

"A.m.?" She blew out a breath of feigned annoyance.

"You're almost as bad as the roosters."

"Well...if that's too early..."

"No. No, it sounds wonderful." She'd be back in time to have her quiet time on the rooftop and help with breakfast.

"I'll meet you at the gate?"

He nodded. "See you in the morning then. Goodnight, Valerie."

"Goodnight. Be careful going back." She glanced at the quickly fading sun. "Are you sure you don't want Henri to go with you?"

"I'll be fine. It's only five minutes."

She turned and walked back to the dormitory, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She liked Max Jordan. A lot. But reconciling the sad, kindhearted man she'd come to know with Beth's "Dr. Botox"...That was something of a struggle.

Valerie was already waiting at the gate when Max arrived the following morning. Her cheeks looked fresh-scrubbed and her hair was pulled back into a smooth chignon.

The watchman, Henri, was with her. He unlatched the gate, then locked it behind her. He pointed to the bell high up on the gatepost. "You ring when you get back," he said. Then turning to Max, he wagged a finger. "You not leave her until she back inside, okay?"

"I'll make sure she gets back safely."

Henri made a slashing gesture across his throat. "Madame Phil, she have my head if anything happen to Miss Valerie."

"I understand," Max said. "I'll take good care of her."

"Good morning," Valerie chirped, after Henri had started back across the yard. "It's beautiful out here this morning...almost cool."

The sun that rose behind the palm trees was a mirror image of the stunning sunset they'd witnessed last night. It would soon burn off any hint of the cool breeze they enjoyed now, but Max had to admit Valerie's optimism was rubbing off on him. He liked who he was when he was with her.

They walked the short distance to the potholed lane that ran in front of the orphanage, then set out toward Madame Duval's. "So you're not mad at me for getting you up so early?"

She cast him a sidewise glance. "I might be tonight when I'm falling asleep in my dinner plate, but right now I'm thrilled to be alive." She flung her arms out and whirled around in the lane, her simple red gingham skirt swishing gracefully around her legs. It was the same thing she'd worn yesterday and he asked without thinking, motioning toward the skirt. "You've still not gotten your luggage?"

She looked down and smoothed the skirt. A mischievous twinkle came to her eyes. "Why? Are you tired of seeing this outfit?"

"Oh, no," he said, embarrassed. "I'm just surprised you're still waiting for it."

"I actually haven't thought much about it. At this point, it probably makes more sense to just grab it when I get on the plane to go home. I'm getting along fine with what little I did get here with. It's amazing how few things a person really needs, you know?"

Her carefree air took him by surprise and he opted for a teasing tone. "Hey, I don't know if I'm up for the Pollyanna routine this early in the day."

"Okay, okay...I'll sober up." She straightened and donned an unconvincing somber expression, falling in stride beside him.

They walked in silence for a long minute. "Well, I didn't mean you had to totally clam up."

Her smile broke through again. "I'm just enjoying the sights. It's interesting to see Brizjanti come to life from down here."

He shot her a questioning look. "Down here?"

"I usually watch the sunrise from the roof of the orphanage. Up there, I see all this--" she waved an arm over the scenery "--from a very different perspective."

"Why the rooftop?"

She shrugged. "I don't know really. I discovered it one day when we were washing down the walls of the dorms. It's just kind of gotten to be a habit. It's quiet up there so I can meditate and read."

"Oh? What are you reading?" Now here was something they could talk about. He prided himself on being well read.

"Wait...Let me guess. Poetry?"

She smiled. "You could say that. I'm reading through the Psalms." But she said it with a hint of apology in her voice, as though she knew he'd be sorry he'd asked. He was.

Or was he? Looking at her, seeing the indisputable honesty in her eyes, he stifled a sigh. He'd studied countless faces in his life. Mostly the faces of women grasping desperately to hold on to what was meant to be fleeting. He could erase wrinkles, plump up lips, and take years off a woman's face. But Valerie Austin's countenance shone with a quality he could never dispense. Honesty. Sincerity. And something else he couldn't quite place.

He'd be gone from this place in a few days, and would never have to see her again. Maybe she could answer some of the questions that had plagued him since he got here. No, before that. Since Joshua's death.

"So...how exactly do you read it?"

Her brow arched. "The Bible?"

He nodded. "It doesn't seem like the sort of book you read cover to cover. I mean, I remember reading it for some lit class. It was a little like reading Shakespeare, as I recall. I think of myself as a pretty cultured guy, but I never could get into the Bard."

"Well, believe it or not, the Bible's like that for me sometimes, too. But not usually. Most of the time it's exactly what I need to hear. But I wouldn't necessarily recommend reading it cover to cover to start with."

"So what? Do you just...flip it open and start reading?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes. When I'm feeling desperate." She flashed a crooked smile. "Come to think of it, I've been using the flip method a lot lately."

He laughed. "Yeah, I suppose that's how I would've done it lately, too--if I read it, that is."

Her expression turned serious. "It really does help, you know. There's a lot of good stuff in there."

He worked to keep the cynicism from his voice. "So I've been told."

She tilted her head, questioning.

"Joshua often went so far as to preach certain passages at me."

She cringed. "Oooh, ouch."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. That's what
I
thought."

"I'm sure he meant well, Max. I'm sure he just wanted you to know the same joy he'd found." She dipped her head. "People sometimes go a little overboard when they first give their life to the Lord."

He stopped in the road and put his arms akimbo. "Okay. Right there, for instance. You're talking in that same...
foreign
language Josh used to speak. What does that mean anyway? Give your life to the Lord? How do you give your life to somebody else?" It sounded like handing over control. He'd fought too long and too hard to relinquish that.

"Hmm..." She scratched her head. "I guess I never thought about the way that sounds. It just means..." She rubbed her temple, then rested her hands on her hips, mirroring his stance.

"Okay...are you really asking, or are you just giving me a hard time?"

He blew out a breath, considering her question, then plunged in headfirst. "I'm really asking."

"It's all about a relationship. You said you believe in God, right? Or a higher power, or whatever you called it."

He nodded, but already he felt the teeth of a trap clamping down on him.

"That's a good start," she said, "but the Bible says even the devil believes. It's not so much believing in God as it is having a relationship with him." She paused, and her expression told him she wondered if he was following.

He nodded for her to continue.

"The provision God made for that relationship is Jesus Christ. I don't know how to explain it any better than that."