16

 

“Shay? Are you up to visitors?” Nurse Meri came through the doorway carrying my breakfast. Behind her trailed a welcome guest—a short, gray-haired, much-loved, Filipino woman.

“Imelda! I’m so happy to see you.” My friend sprinted to my side and grasped my face between her palms. Her gaze scanned me up, down, and sideways. I was glad I’d brushed my teeth.

“You’re still not feeling very well, are you?” She fussed with my blankets and dragged a heavy chair over next to me—not an easy feat for such a small woman. “Dengue fever! Now why’d you have to go and catch such a ghastly illness?”

I shook my head and tried not to wince at the sudden motion. “You’re right. I should have given it more consideration before I let the nasty old mosquito bite me, huh? Whatever was I thinking?”

I lifted the lid on my breakfast tray and whimpered with dismay. Scrambled eggs, again, and not one lousy sliver of bacon in sight. I grabbed my fork and swished the bland mess around my plate. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Eat your breakfast. Brianna called me this morning. Timothy’s been sending her daily e-mails on your progress, and she was hoping I could visit.” How did Timothy get Brianna’s e-mail address? Oh yeah. I’d listed her as my emergency contact. “I’m glad you did, and that was nice of Timothy. Contacting Brianna hadn’t occurred to me yet, I’m ashamed to say.” I tried a tiny forkful of the eggs and gagged.

“No need to be ashamed, dear.” Imelda dragged her chair closer. “From what I hear, you’ve been a mighty sick girl for days. Brianna wanted to jump on a plane as soon as she heard, but Timothy promised her he’d look out for you, and that he’d call her if she was needed.”

“He’s been a rock.”

“I promised her I’d check in on you and give her a status report. I also told her I’d be happy to take care of you, and she needn’t worry. And I meant it.”

“Take care of me?” I picked up a limp piece of toast and let it drop back on the plate. No butter, much less jam.

“Sure. According to Nurse Flores, you’ll be ready to leave in a day or two. However, total recovery time is measured in weeks. You’re going to need some TLC to get your strength back, so you’re coming home with me. Did I mention that before I retired, I was a nurse?”

“No you didn’t mention it.” How fortuitous. God’s perfect timing in those proverbial mysterious ways.

“The last hospital I worked at was George Washington in DC. We didn’t get too many cases of dengue fever, though.” With a charming chuckle, she recounted some of her escapades as a nurse.

It hadn’t crossed my mind what I’d be doing when I left the hospital. “I assumed I’d be going back to the seminary until I’m well enough to fly home.”

“And let that handsome man be your nursemaid? I don’t think so. I doubt you’ll want him checking your vitals and changing your sheets.”

“Good point, but I couldn’t foist myself on you. You hardly know me. And I couldn’t impose on your family.”

“Any family of my son’s wife is family of mine. In addition, I’m staying in an in-law suite, so I have my own space. The bottom line is I’ll have no argument.” She beamed at me and bounced those curls.

We were discussing the details of my imminent departure when Timothy arrived.

Imelda’s eyes almost jumped out of her head when she got a load of my missionary man. Anyone Timothy married would have to get used to having women fawn all over him. Women of all ages.

“Timothy, this is Imelda de la Rosa, Brianna’s mother-in-law. Imelda, this is Dr. Timothy Flynn.”

Timothy strode over and extended his hand to shake, but Imelda would have none of it. She wrapped him in a mama-bear hug. “Dr. Flynn, the sight of such a fine-looking man could raise a girl’s blood pressure to dangerous heights. Nice to meet you.”

His grin couldn’t have gotten any wider. “I like this woman. Nice to meet you, too, Imelda de la Rosa, Brianna’s mother-in-law. Shay’s filled me in on how much she enjoys your company. Did I hear you live in Luzon?”

"I’m visiting family in Quezon City.” The two jabbered on in Tagalog, only pausing every now and then to glance over at me and snicker. They spoke my name, but I had no idea what they were saying. I hoped it was good.

Eventually, they broke off and had the good grace to lower their heads, chagrinned expressions on their faces.

“Sorry,” said Timothy.

“Sorry,” echoed Imelda.

“Imelda’s been telling me you plan to recuperate at her home. Good idea. And we were talking about the palengke—the open market. She’s going to buy you all kinds of healthy food to help you feel better.”

I had a feeling they’d been conferring on a lot more than that. It was obvious they were hatching some kind of a plot. I pushed the disgusting breakfast away, slid down in my bed, and straightened the blanket.

Imelda kissed me goodbye on the cheek with instructions to listen to Nurse Meri. Easy for her to say. She didn’t have to force down gummy eggs and dry bread.

Imelda was gone, but Timothy remained, and for some reason, my heart skipped. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His fingers brushed mine as he made himself comfortable in the visitor’s chair Imelda had vacated.

I’d been itching to satisfy my curiosity, and now was the time. “I’ve been meaning to ask you a question.”

He crossed one leg over the other and tilted his head. “Shoot.”

“Do you remember when we were talking in your apartment and you mentioned an ex-girlfriend?”

“Uh huh. Her name was Heather.”

“And you said she was a gold digger?”

Timothy’s eyes crinkled. “I knew you were going to bring that up.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”

Timothy tapped his chin with his index finger. “I do want to tell you. I’ve just been waiting for the right time. Have you ever heard of Flynn’s Irish Pub?”

“Who hasn’t? The national chain in the States, right?” Then it dawned on me. “Do you mean you have something to do with those Flynns?”

“You could say that. My dad’s the owner.”

“Wow. But aren’t there dozens of locations?” I smoothed the covers and stuck my hands under the edges. I could’ve used a good snuggle with a warm kitten. Maybe I could persuade him to bring Lois the next time he dropped by.

“I think at last count, Dad mentioned we’re up to two hundred and thirteen. My father’s very proud.”

“As he should be, I guess. Quite an achievement.” My eyes narrowed into slits. “So you’re rich. I mean super rich. Or you would be if you and your dad got along…or something…?”

“Mom left me her fifty percent in her will, so yes, I have money.” In retrospect, I guess he didn’t owe Yale a dime. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they owed him something.

“I see. A good reason for your dad to be angry with you.”

“As if he needed another reason. Between that and my career choice, you can see why I’m a gigantic disappointment to him.”

My mouth opened and dropped shut. I needed a moment to absorb all of this. I drew in a cleansing breath. “I’m still at a loss, here. Why were you keeping it a secret?”

“Can you imagine what my life would be like if eager brides-to-be knew about my money? By asking for applications, at least I found out basic details first. And, as a side note, I was happy to hear Blaine was well off, and his financial status didn’t matter a whit to you.”

“That’s true. He’s egotistical when it comes to his fat money belt. One of his least attractive traits.” It was starting to make sense, now. “So you’re the reason I have the best room in the hospital?”

“Yeah.” He blushed. I loved it when he blushed.

“Thank you for the private accommodations. Does anyone else at the seminary know of your, ah, plentiful portfolio?”

“The president knows, and I think Danilo suspects, but no, I don’t advertise the fact.” He stood up and walked over to the window.

“I don’t understand why you don’t want your friends to know.” I reined in a yawn, and I’d only woken up two hours ago. Pathetic.

He rested his hands on the windowsill and leaned his forehead on the glass. “It’s complicated. Give me a minute to think of how to put it into words.”

He paused and I let him ponder. He didn’t open up easily, and from what I’d seen, it was a rare day when he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” I shivered and huddled deeper under the blankets.

He glanced over his shoulder and turned toward me. “OK, let’s talk money. First, my father’s career was mostly responsible for my parents’ difficult marriage. He was always at work, and Mom resented it. I vowed I’d never let the pursuit of wealth come between my future family and me. Second, as to why I don’t simply throw dollars to the poor here…Shay, this stays between us, right?”

“Of course. I’d never betray a confidence.” I gazed into his eyes hoping he’d know I meant it.

“All right, then. I make anonymous donations to the community, the hospital, the seminary, and anywhere I feel I can make a difference. God’s blessed me with means, and I want to do the best I can with the hefty responsibility.”

Well, this was new. Someone who wished to remain anonymous. “Giving financial gifts sounds like a great deal of fun. But why are you so bent on getting a promotion? Heck, why do you even need a job?”

“Someday I hope to have a more important role here at the seminary so I can better assist the community. If I had additional clout, the government might listen to my ideas concerning clean well water, better sanitation, etcetera. There are tons of ways to help the people do more than merely subsist.” Timothy’s voice deepened, and I could feel his passion from across the room.

He wasn’t coldly ambitious. He didn’t want a wife so he could further his career for selfish reasons. He was poles apart from Blaine. Goodness, he was a galaxy apart from any other man I knew. “But why then, when Pinky landed in the hospital, did you ask for money from your church? Wouldn’t writing a check have been easier?”

He walked over to the bed and sank down next to me. “To answer that, have you ever heard of the story about the widow’s mite?”

“Yeah, but run it by me again. I’m a bit rusty in my Bible knowledge.” I sipped ice water from the cup Nurse Meri had left for me.

“In the New Testament, passages in both Mark and Luke tell how Jesus watched as people gave their money to the collection boxes. Many of the wealthy were throwing in large sums, and they were proud of their generosity. A poor widow came by with an offering of two small copper coins. That was all she had, and she gave it away.”

“OK, so you’re saying although the rich gave more, the widow’s gift meant more?” Interesting concept. A song from my childhood played through my mind. “Little is Much When God Is in It.” I hadn’t thought of that hymn in twenty years.

“Exactly.”

I rubbed my temples for a moment. This was weighty stuff, and I wanted to soak it in. “But how does that apply to you having piles of money?”

“If God sees it that way, why would I deprive anyone from knowing the joy of giving? A person’s gift of a dollar might mean more than all the checks I write.” He stared into my eyes, urgency written all over his face. “Do you see? Faith matters most of all. How was that widow going to live? How was she going to eat? She sacrificed all she had because she had faith God would take care of her.”

Now I got it. Reach out in faith even when it doesn’t make sense—or perhaps especially when it doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with this new information, but I knew it was important. Deep inside, I longed for such faith—faith like Timothy’s.

I reached out my hand for him, pulled him toward me, and draped my arms around his neck. His encompassing warmth seeped into me. He hugged me as if I was made of spun glass, and he was afraid I’d shatter. I rested my forehead on his shoulder and sighed.

“Shay, I have faith you’re here for a reason. You’re supposed to be here. I can feel it.”

And he was right. Getting my relationship with God back on track was priceless and worth every millisecond of agony I’d experienced since arriving. Maybe someday I’d tell him the whole story.

He kissed the top of my head—there’d been a lot of that going on lately—closed the blinds, switched off the light, and left on quiet feet.