The Desire (12 page)

B
y the end of the family dinner, Michele had to admit . . . she liked this Christina. She didn't seem to always know how much or how little to say. She had plenty of opinions but didn't share them in a way that said you must be stupid if you didn't agree. And she had a good sense of humor, bordering on the sarcastic side. She knew enough to play it safe. By the look in her eyes, Michele was sure she was holding back plenty.

It was safe to say, half the laughter at the table followed something Christina said.

Michele thought it was odd; Christina wasn't like anyone else in the family—didn't think like anyone else, didn't talk like anyone else, seemed to view life from a totally different vantage point—yet at the same time, she fit right in.

Her mom was certainly enjoying having Christina there, or maybe she was just relieved. Doug seemed to be enjoying having her there too. As the meal went on, he seemed to be paying more and more attention to Christina. At one point, Michele thought she saw that certain look in his eye. He had only ever brought one girlfriend home, so she couldn't be sure.

Whatever may or may not be happening on Doug's end, she definitely detected interest on Christina's side. Christina
looked at Doug
that
way at fairly consistent intervals throughout the dinner. Michele didn't know her little brother too well, but from what she did know, she would be surprised if Doug could overlook Christina's . . .
condition
.

The only awkward moment in the meal came a few minutes ago when it came time to clear the table. The women all got up to help, including Christina. Marilyn, in a voice filled with kind, maternal concern, said, “Oh no, Christina, you better stay put in your condition.”

Christina looked so embarrassed; her face blushed instantly. She looked at Doug, then down at her big belly, as if wishing she could will it away. She recovered her composure and replied, “Mrs. Anderson, you're so thoughtful. But really, I'd like to help. Besides, did you forget I'm a waitress? I do this kind of thing every day.”

“I did forget.”

“Christina,” Jean said, “I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to being mothered if you live around here.”

“You mean smothered,” Doug said.

“Hey,” Marilyn said.

Doug laughed. “I meant it in a good way. As in smothered with love.”

Christina stood up and piled Doug's plate and silverware on top of her own and walked them toward the kitchen.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Marilyn said. “Speaking about your waitress job, isn't it back in Sanford, closer to your apartment?”

“It is.” Christina set the plates down by the sink. “I didn't really think about that when you invited me to live here. I'll eat up all my tips in gas.” She looked around the kitchen and at the family members walking by. “But I can find another waitress job. I wouldn't turn all this down because of that.”

“How set are you on staying a waitress?” Marilyn asked.

“Are you kidding? I hate it. Especially now. My back kills me at the end of every shift. But I can't do anything else.”

“I doubt that,” Jim said as he carried in the main meat dish. “I'll bet there's lots you could do.”

“I know of one other thing you could do,” Marilyn said. “If you want to, I mean. I didn't even tell you this yet, Jim.”

“Do what?” Christina said. “You mean like another job? A not-waitressing job?”

Marilyn nodded, smiled. “Right here in River Oaks.”

“No way.”

Marilyn nodded again. Michele figured it out before her mother even said it.

“How would you like to work with me? At a little shop on Main Street called Odds-n-Ends?”

“Emily's leaving, isn't she?” Michele said. “She told me at church. She's leaving town to go back to college.”

“That's right.”

“Is Emily someone you work with?” Christina asked.

“Yes, and the store owner goes to our church too. Her name's Harriet. I asked her if she would consider interviewing you for Emily's job.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said if I trusted you enough to invite you to move into our garage apartment, she didn't even need to interview you. You could start this week.”

“Really? I can't even believe this,” Christina said.

“Like I said, smothered with love.” Doug walked by, carrying what was left of two side dishes. He was actually helping to clear the table.

“How much of a notice do you need to give your boss?” Marilyn asked.

“How long? For him, not much.”

“Two weeks?” Marilyn said.

“More like two days. It's not a nice place. He tells us at least once a day: ‘You think I need you? I don't need you. I got fifty people waiting in line for your job. Now get back to work
.
'” She said it like a New Jersey mobster.

“Oh my,” Marilyn said. “That's awful.”

“No,” Christina said. “That's not awful. That's what he says when he's being nice. I can't repeat what he says when he's being awful.”

“I wouldn't give a guy like that two minutes, let alone two days,” Doug said.

“Maybe you're right.” Christina looked at Marilyn. “Tell the owner I'll start whenever she wants me. Tomorrow even. I'll just call my boss and tell him to call up one of those fifty people standing in line.”

Marilyn was so excited, she hugged Christina in a full Mom-embrace. Michele noticed a slight delay in Christina returning the hug. But she did hug her back and kept telling her how thankful she was.

Just then, Allan walked into the kitchen holding his cell phone. “Say, hon, just got a call from Ray. He was wondering if I could meet him for a quick cup of coffee. He said some big things are happening with the orphanage plan and wants to go over them with me. I guess he wants me to start working on them soon or something. Is that okay?”

“You mean now? You're going to meet him now?”

“Well . . . yeah. If it's okay. You know what's gonna happen here. You guys'll clean up like you always do, get the coffee on. Eat dessert a little while after that. I won't be long. I'm too full for dessert anyway.”

What could she say? She wasn't okay? But she didn't want
to say it. He was right about the routine. But part of the routine was him being there with her, sitting next to her, drinking coffee at the table as everyone talked and joked around. She also wasn't crazy about all this Korah orphanage stuff coming back into play. It had been so nice the last few days having the old Allan back. She could tell by the look in his eyes, he was already halfway down the road on his way to meet Ray.

“So, is it okay?”

“I guess,” she said, as unenthusiastically as she could.

“Love you.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.

W
hen Allan pulled up to the Starbucks in the River Oaks downtown area, he passed Ray's car parked along the curb a few stores down. He found Ray sitting outside in the café area, tapping something into his iPad. Allan looked at Ray's coffee cup and said, “Hey, Ray. I'll get mine and be right there.” Ray looked up and waved.

When Allan joined him, Ray set his tablet aside. “Just sending a quick reply back to Henok.”

“How's he doing?”

“Extremely well.”

“You sounded pretty excited on the phone,” Allan said.

“Things are really starting to come together over there. A lot faster than I expected. Life getting back to normal for you?”

“Mostly. Took me a little longer this time than usual.”

“Korah?” Ray said.

Allan nodded. “We were only there a couple of days, but I can't get the images out of my head.”

“Me neither.” Ray picked up his cup. “This time I don't think we're supposed to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don't think the Lord wants us to let this one go. That's what usually happens on these short-term mission trips. You know how it is. We go over there, do some good for a few weeks. It messes with our minds a little, the whole culture shock thing. Coming face-to-face with the kind of suffering and poverty other people live with every day. Then we come back to the good ol' U-S-of-A with a whole new sense of appreciation for everything God has given us. For a little while. Maybe we stop grumbling . . . for a little while. In a few weeks, the whole thing fades to the margins as real life kicks in and our routines take over.”

Ray had pretty much summed up his experience after every other mission trip.

“Once that happens,” Ray continued, “it's pretty much out of sight, out of mind until the next time we go over there.
If
we go over there.”

“But that's not happening this time,” Allan said.

“Not for me. Sounds like not for you either. And I've heard from all the other guys on the team. They're experiencing the same thing. I think it's seeing all those innocent kids, seeing what their life is like. The effect is so much more powerful.”

“They were at the dump again today,” Allan said. “Another long day spent poking through all that garbage for something to eat.” A flash went through his mind of that young boy pulling a crumpled yogurt container out of his filthy white bag, swirling his finger around inside, licking it, then looking up at Allan with that satisfied smile. Ayana's big beautiful eyes came to mind next. How had her day gone? Did she remember him? Then one more picture . . . the scene he had just left on Elderberry Lane. The Anderson clan sitting, yet again, around a large Sunday feast. Thankful, grateful to God. Their biggest concern was trying not to eat too much.
All these images happened in seconds, followed by a strong desire to hold little Ayana again. To see her at that Sunday table, maybe sitting next to Tommy and Carly. Laughing, drinking, eating. Trying to learn good table manners, acting just like cousins.

Cousins? Listen to him. But that's how the thought came to him.

“You're there now, aren't you?”

Allan looked up.

“It's been happening to me too,” Ray said, “ever since I got home. Julie's starting to get a little upset. Either her or one of the kids will say something that triggers a flashback, and I'll just go back to Korah. Completely tune them out.”

Allan shook his head. “It's not good. I don't want to sour Michele on this. I wish there was some way to involve her more, so that this wasn't just my thing.” He took a sip of his latte. “What I really wish is that she'd come with me sometime.”

“Then you'd both be staring off into oblivion, tuning each other out,” Ray said.

Allan smiled. “Maybe. But at least we'd be doing it together.”

“I think one way to cure this distracting stare is to do more than just think about it. We need to
do
something. That's why I wanted to get with you today. That is, assuming you're still willing to be point man on this thing.”

Allan thought about some of his recent conversations with Michele. Was being the point man still a good idea? “I am, but I'm not sure I remember the details of what you had in mind.” What he did recall didn't seem like it would be all that time-consuming.

“I'm thinking of you being more like the project manager.
You're good at flowcharts and organizing things. I've been making some notes since we got home. I just sent them to you as an email attachment. It's all the different things I can think of that need to be done for this orphanage plan to happen. Not things done by you, but by everybody, including me. I've also asked all the guys to start emailing you, not just me, with updates as we go. I'm mainly going to be working on the fund-raising side, which is already going way beyond my expectations.”

“Really? What's happened?” Allan knew that none of their great intentions would ever come about without solid funding.

“For starters, Henok is really on top of things. I can tell he's made this job one. He says the government over there is wide open to the idea. They want to see a proposal for the whole thing. The initial plans, the long-term goals, how we expect to pay for it. He told them this project probably won't cost them a dime. He's hoping to secure some local funding, but the majority of the money will come from churches here.”

“And how's that part going?”

“That's the other positive development. Joe got that video put together. I haven't seen it yet. But he said it's incredible. He's going to upload it to YouTube, so all the churches represented by team members can get an idea of what we're talking about. Our church elders are meeting this week. They've already agreed to put funding for this orphanage on the agenda, and I'm going to play the video for them at the meeting.”

Allan sat forward in his chair. “They've already agreed to fund the orphanage?”

“Not yet. They've agreed to evaluate it, see if we want to make it a part of our mission budget this year and, if so, decide on how much. But I know once they hear what I have to say and watch this video, they're going to get behind this
thing. Part of the reason I need you to get working on this is to help us nail down the costs. Until we hammer out a game plan, we won't know what kind of income we'll need to keep up with expenses. But God's really put faith in my heart that it's all going to come together.”

This was exciting news. Allan was so glad to hear that the elders were responding so positively to this. “I think you're right. Once they see this video, how can they not want to help?”

“So what do you think? You still willing to run point on this?”

This definitely sounded doable. Ray was right; Allan was good at organizing things. He could do it in his spare time and not cut into his time with Michele much at all. Then a new thought . . . Michele had to see this video. It wouldn't be as powerful as being there, but it would make it easier for her to grasp why all this was so important to him. Allan nodded. “Sure, Ray, I'll do it.”

Then he wondered if Ayana would show up anywhere on the video. He wanted to see her again. But even more, he wanted Michele to see her.