NICK WIPED SWEAT off his brow and took the drink offered by Kaylan.
“Sweat looks good on you, soldier.”
“Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.”
Kaylan, Nick, and the Tuckers toiled over the church, making it a labor of love for Sarah Beth and the people of Haiti. Little food existed for the inhabitants of the city, but what little was present was shared with their American band. Nick was honored. He could see why Kaylan had fallen in love with these people. These men and women had weathered an earthquake and, although shaken, stood tall. Hope wasn’t an elusive concept but a present reality, and they clung to it as if it were food and water.
His phone rang. Nick dropped the cement block he was carrying to fish out his cell. Seeing the number, he moved away from Kaylan before answering. “Hey, Bulldog.”
“Hawk, how’s she doing?”
Nick studied Kaylan as she distributed water bottles. Her smile was lighter, and the circles under her eyes continued to fade; she was active and aiding a cause she was intimately linked to. “Better. She’s getting there.”
“I hope you were right about this trip.”
“I was right. But something tells me that isn’t why you called. What’s up?”
“Janus is back. Made a reappearance in Ukraine before slipping her shadow. She’s good, Hawk. One of the best I’ve seen.”
“We’re better.”
“We’ll have to be. That’s why I’m calling. X wants everyone back, stat. Time to catch ourselves a killer.”
Nick could almost taste the desire. This woman didn’t think twice about whom she hurt or the clients to whom she sold weapons. She was cold-blooded, a viper, and she must be stopped before another 9/11 landed on their hands. Nick needed to do his job, but he worried what Kaylan would have to say. They had a lot to talk through.
“I’ll be there in the next forty-eight hours. Can you hold down the fort until I get back?”
“You got it. Take care of my sister.”
“Always. Hey, man, be praying for tomorrow. We’re visiting Sarah Beth’s grave, and I’m not sure how she’s going to hold up. Pray we don’t have a relapse into the Kaylan of the past couple of months.”
“You got it.”
Nick closed his phone and took another swig from his water bottle. Children flocked around Kaylan, including little Sophia. Nick couldn’t thank that child enough for finding someone to dig Kaylan out.
Kaylan was holding up well, even thriving. She had accepted the internship in San Diego to be closer to him. After it was over, she planned to become a dietician for a natural disaster relief organization based in California. Having been a survivor of one of the worst earthquakes of the Western world, she understood the challenges of a crisis and had a passion to help others survive the trauma.
Despite her plans and the strides they’d made in their relationship, he knew the hurdles ahead were daunting. She would need to learn how to trust God with Nick when Nick entered deadly situations. He knew the sacrifice he was asking of her. He had lived through it himself when he hadn’t known whether she was dead or alive.
Nick tensed, unsure what had set him on guard. He surveyed the men around him. Each had stopped work and stood with his shovel ready. Quiet, strong, they resembled statues that had survived an onslaught and were preparing for another. Kaylan glanced up and paled, her eyes looking beyond him. Nick turned, his fists balled, braced to face whatever had upset her.
Kaylan shuddered and almost dropped the box of water bottles. A man strode at the head of a mob. Tall, bald, commanding, his eyes were those of the living dead—Eliezer. Surly teens drifted behind him, their features chiseled in stone, hardened by life in the slum, brainwashed by a man who promised power and the riddance of the white man.
Kaylan tensed and turned to the children. “Run to your mothers. We can play later.” She jerked as a hand grabbed hers before recognizing Nick’s touch. Her breath caught in the oppressive humidity, and she fought the panic rising in her heart.
“Eliezer?”
“I didn’t want to see him, Nick. I didn’t want to see him.”
“It’s fine, babe. Maybe he just wants to see what we’re up to.”
“You don’t understand. Eliezer has studied the history of Haiti. He still believes white people only cause havoc in his country. The only way for the people of Haiti to have a better life is to do what the slaves did long ago, rid their country of white influence.”
The men had moved from the rubble pile and now stood around Nick and Kaylan. Ex-gang members gripped shovels tightly, and Kaylan worried that more Haitian blood was about to be spilled. Fear of this man was irrational, but Kaylan was more worried about what he intended to do to the men working than what he could do to her.
Lord, help.
Eliezer appeared calm, almost regal, but the men behind him shifted and clenched their fists. Kaylan was thankful they hadn’t brought guns onto the streets. Dusk was hardly the time to attack this far from their territory. They were unsure and angry, the remnant of one of the slum gangs. She searched their eyes for understanding or compassion. Hatred boiled in their depths, though she wasn’t sure if it was part of their nature or if they despised her.
“You are not welcome here, Kaylan Richards. Why did you return?”
Nick stepped in front of Kaylan, and she gripped his arm. “Eliezer, I’m glad to see you are no longer in pain. Did Rhonda help you?”
His eye twitched, and the scar along the side of his face tightened. “I did not seek her help, nor did I want it. You should not have come back.” He gestured to the devastation around him. “As I have told you, this is your fault. You and your God. You should never have come to Haiti, and your return is unwelcome. Go home, and take your God with you. He has only brought pain to us.”
“Eliezer, my God isn’t one who inflicts pain. Se jezu sel ki kon geri —it’s only Jesus who can heal. And He came to heal you and me and Haiti and America because He knew we are helpless and hopeless without Him. He loves us.” She pleaded with him to understand.
“Is this His idea of healing?” His voice rose, and Kaylan noticed the pulse throbbing in his throat.
“I don’t know what this is, but good things are happening among your people, Eliezer. Don’t you see? I came back to see if things were better, and they are.”
“They are not better. There is no one here helping Haiti. Your people helped, and then left us to our filth and destruction. No homes, little food, disease. This is not better. You have angered the spirits. Leave, Kaylan Richards, or we will make you leave. You are not one of us.”
The men behind Eliezer stepped forward as the men from the church surrounded Kaylan and Nick, pushing them to the back. Rolin stood at the front of the group, eye to eye with Eliezer. His Creole was quick and passionate, but firm. Abraham translated for Nick and Kaylan.
“She is one of us. She has the heart of a Haitian. She lived through what we lived through. Her God is now our God. We rebuild from the ashes to make a better Haiti. Help, or be gone.”
“You would side with her over me? Who helped you when your wife ached with child? Who came to your aid to yank Yanick away from the ways of this woman and her God? You dare turn on me now?”
“Her God gave me hope to live tomorrow, and so I rebuild a place where those of our city can worship Him. You have no power here. My God is bigger than you or your spirits. He is hope and love, not manipulation and anger. In the name of Jesus Christ, leave. You will not harm this woman today. She brought a message of life to Haiti. This earthquake was not her fault.”
Kaylan closed her eyes and fought tears at the outpouring of love from these people. She had given them pieces of herself, and they had given pieces of themselves to her. They formed a tapestry of color and loyalty. She had poured into them, invested all of who she was. When they were broken, she was broken. In their hope, she now found hope. Another small piece of her heart felt the warm sensation of healing.
Stevenson stepped forward, and Eliezer’s eyes blazed. “You left me.”
“You asked me to harm the people you claim to protect.”
“You have turned your back on our heritage. You are no student of mine.” As he raised his arm to strike Stevenson, Kaylan surged forward before Nick could catch her.
“Stop.”
Eliezer’s hand froze in midair, and his eyes focused on her, surprised, angry.
“We don’t have to do this. You once told me we could both help Haiti. Help us now, Eliezer. Help us rebuild.”
“I will not. Haiti will not be saved with your religion.”
“No, it’ll be saved because of my God. The Bible says the Lord binds up what is broken.”
Eliezer seemed to lose the ability to talk. He advanced toward her again, the men behind him rooted to the ground. He bared his teeth, but Kaylan stood her ground. She remembered her place. She remembered her identity and why she’d come to Haiti. She remembered her calling to stand for the less fortunate, and her fear fled. No more would the past months destroy her hope. As Nick moved to her side, she laid a restraining hand on his arm.
“I will not fight you, Eliezer. My purpose is to help, not hurt. Will you inflict more harm on those of your own blood?”
His eyes blazed, and he studied the men surrounding Kaylan. He took a step backward, then another, before swiftly turning and fading back into the dust, leaving those around him confused, adrenaline crashing without a fight. The church members swarmed around them, talking, sharing the gospel.
Nick watched it all, but most of all he watched Kaylan. She had never looked more beautiful. Her hair knotted under a bandanna, dirt smudged her cheek, and her clothes were sweaty and crumpled. She’d done it. She’d graciously, confidently faced the man who had haunted her dreams. She’d come to the country that had nearly destroyed her, and in the process she’d emerged like the lily she wore around her neck: strong, beautiful, resilient, changed.