Like Dandelion Dust by Karen Kingsbury
The Petty kids and Joey were all awake now, asking Jesper questions as quickly as he could answer them. They piled out through the side door, grabbing luggage from under the seats and trying to make sense of the chaos. The van with the three college kids and the young pastor pulled in and parked behind them.
“Who lives at the mission house?” Cammie climbed out of the backseat. Blain and Braden followed her.
“Volunteers and visiting Americans.” Jesper smiled. “Today . . . you and your family!”
“What do people eat here?” Braden rubbed his eyes. “I’m hungry.”
“Faun will have rice feast in one hour.” Jesper’s voice rang with pride. “We take good care American guests.”
The questions continued as they pulled their suitcases into the house. “Were we supposed to bring pillows?” Bill uttered the question quietly as they made their way up the walk.
“I don’t think so.” Jack looked over his shoulder and smiled. “But I did, anyway. You never know.”
Beth watched the men, not sure what to feel. This was something new, the way they got along and made small talk so easily. Was it genuine—something that had come from their prayer meeting? Or was this new camaraderie only Jack’s way of getting along with Bill, keeping suspicions at bay until he and Molly and Joey made their break?
The men from the other van trailed them into the house. The leader said something about putting their suitcases away and heading over to the orphanage to meet the children. Good, Beth told herself. Let them go. It would take longer to get their two families settled at the mission house, and that meant Beth had more time to study her sister. Without the group leader interrupting.
She watched Molly, the easy way her sister smiled at Joey and Jack as one of the volunteers met them and directed them to a room off to the left. If they were planning a getaway, they didn’t show it. They seemed surprisingly at ease. Beth was suddenly assaulted by doubt. What if she was wrong? How could she ever expect Molly to forgive her for the questions she’d asked, and the way she’d been acting?
Beth had no answers for herself. They were led to their rooms, and Bill nodded his approval. “Running water and electricity. I’d say they treat their guests very well.”
“I hope they treat the orphans this nicely.” Cammie grabbed her suitcase and flung it on her bunk bed. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
Again Beth was pulled back into the moment. They were here to take part in a work trip, after all. It was time to stop worrying about Molly and Jack and Joey. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience for her own kids. She worked her bag beneath her bunk and sat on the edge of the mattress.
Suddenly tears blurred her vision, and she closed her eyes. For months she’d been preaching to Molly and Jack that the answer lay in praying for God’s will. Trust God, she’d told them. He knows what’s best for Joey, even if it doesn’t seem best to you. But what had she, herself, been doing?
The whole time she’d been trying to teach Molly and Jack about faith, she’d been walking in her own strength entirely. Not once had she prayed about her doubts where Molly and Jack were concerned. Sure, she kept praying for Joey, that her sister would get to keep her son. But every time she felt doubts about what Molly and Jack might be planning, she turned into a detective, firing questions at her sister and snooping for clues.
Even the phone calls to the social worker and to Wendy Porter were done without so much as a single bit of communication with God. No wonder she’d been plagued by doubt and fear. She had no peace, because she hadn’t taken her own advice.
Now she bowed her head and covered her face. The kids were distracted, heading out into the main room with Bill. Only Jonah remained, and he must’ve heard her crying.
“What’re you doing, Mommy?” Jonah bounced down next to her. “Are you sad?”
“No, not really.” She sniffed and put her arm around him. “Mommy needs a minute to pray.”
“Is it okay if I play with Blain and Braden?”
“Yes, sweetie. Go ahead.”
Jonah ran off, and Beth covered her face once more. Then she did what her soul had been crying for since she woke up that morning. God . . . forgive me for my doubts and suspicions. I’ve tried so hard to be my sister’s keeper, when You already know exactly what’s going to happen. Help me remember the joy of my salvation and the certainty of Your truth, Father. She wiped at her tears. They were meeting for the rice feast in just ten minutes. And, God . . . I beg You that Your will be done for Molly and Jack and Joey. From this minute on I’ll trust You—whatever happens.
She opened her eyes and stood up. Without a doubt she knew what she was going to do the moment she saw Molly. She would sit beside her at the rice feast, and before another minute passed, she would do what she should’ve done a long time ago.
She would apologize.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jack could feel his heart changing.
On the inside where his existence had been all confidence and self-assurance, something was happening, a softening—a knowing that somehow all his life, just maybe he’d been wrong. He hadn’t expected this kind of change to happen at this stage of the plan. The trip to Haiti, the work . . . It was all part of the guise to get them out of the country. But after a day of working with the Haitian people and the volunteers at the orphanage, Jack could see that Jesper was right.
God was everything to them.
It was their second full day in Haiti, and Jesper suggested a trip into the city. Day excursions were a scheduled part of the work trip, a way to take food and supplies to the people in the streets. For Jack, the day trips had been his guarantee that the plan would work. Once they were on the city streets, anything could happen. And he would make sure it did.
They’d spent that morning working with the children and the volunteers at the orphanage. Bill watched as Joey and the Petty kids mingled with the orphans. The children had only one small play room, a square area with a tile floor and no furniture. There were maybe four or five toys among more than forty boys and girls.
“I thought the church back home sent toys and clothes to these kids,” Jack said to Jesper.
He smiled. “Kids get lots of toys and clothes. Much more than children on street.” He motioned toward the front gate. “Volunteers box up things Americans send, give to family and friends on street who have nothing.”
The answer was humbling.
They set to work repairing a collapsed wall on the south side of the orphanage, and at break time Jack found Joey with six little boys. He had a protein bar for his son, and a few others for the orphans. Hardly enough to go around.
He pulled Joey aside. “Hey, sport, I have a snack for you. Think you could share with the other boys?”
Joey’s blue eyes shone with love. “O’ course, Daddy.” He took the bars and ran back to the circle of boys.
Joey broke the bars into small bits and gave each of the boys a piece. The children were overwhelmed with joy. They marveled and held up their snack, chattering in Creole, obviously excited. What Jack saw next only added to the strange feeling inside him. Each of the Haitian children took their piece and ran to a group of the other children. Still chattering and gesturing in sheer joy, they broke off piece after piece until every child in the orphanage had a small bite.
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 singl
“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?
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.”