Michele was nodding off.
Normally, when she had to work the next morning, she’d be asleep by 10:30. But Allan had said he’d contact her tonight on Skype, if at all possible. He was almost thirty minutes late. She was beginning to doubt it would happen. Communication was the worst part of these trips. No, the worst part was him being gone every night and her being left alone.
Was there a best part?
She forced herself to think about all the good he was doing. He was helping people. Lots of people. Orphans and widows and sick people and hurting people and people who had almost nothing. She was sitting in an upscale townhome in River Oaks, in a nicely decorated and spacious master bedroom suite. From her soft, upholstered chair, she could see into the bathroom. There was a garden tub with whirlpool jets. She barely used it anymore; it was a nightmare to keep clean. But there it was, and she could use it whenever she wanted.
Allan had talked to her once about the bathroom situation of most of the people in Ethiopia. Halfway through, she had to make him stop. The images in her mind were so revolting.
She stared at the computer screen, waiting for the little icon to activate, indicating Allan was on the line. Please, Allan . . . please call. She heard a beep and jumped. But it wasn’t him. It was her cell phone on the nightstand. Apparently informing her the battery was fully charged. She stood up and walked to the bathroom to wash her face with cold water.
Five more minutes. She would give it five more minutes.
As she turned off the faucet, she heard that familiar chime from her laptop. She dried her face and hands and ran to the computer. There was Allan’s beautiful face staring back at her. She clicked the button to accept the call, and the picture instantly enlarged. “Can you see me? Can you hear me?” she asked.
“I can. Man, are you a sight for sore eyes. I haven’t seen anything that beautiful since . . . since I left you at the airport.”
It was so good to see him. But something in his eyes . . . she could tell he was struggling with something. “You look good. A little tired maybe. Your eyes look kind of puffy. Are you sleeping okay?”
“I was until last night. Had a real hard time for some reason. Well, I guess I know why.” He looked away, offscreen.
“What’s wrong? What happened last night?”
He looked back at her. “Just some stuff we saw yesterday. Had a hard time getting the pictures out of my mind. I’ll tell you about it when I get home.”
“Would it help to talk about it? I’m here if you want to talk about it now.”
“I don’t think so. I’m going back out there again in just a few minutes. Maybe seeing it all again will help take the sting away. If we talk about it now, it might mess up your sleep. It’s midnight there, right?”
“A little after,” she said. “I can see it’s daylight there from the window behind you. That’s so strange. I still can’t get used to the time difference. It’s tomorrow for you already.”
“I know. One more day and we start the long journey home. I can’t wait to see you.”
“I love you so much,” she said.
“I love you too.”
There was a long pause, which rarely happened in their conversations. “What’s wrong, babe? You seem . . . off somehow. Are you just worn out?”
“I’m sure that’s part of it.” He looked away. When he looked back at her, he said, “No, that’s not it. Not really. I’m sure it’s this place.”
“You mean Addis Ababa?”
“No, the place we visited yesterday.”
She noticed something then. He was looking right at her, but it was as if he wasn’t seeing her anymore. He was seeing something else, in his mind. “Tell me about it.”
“No, I’m sorry. It can wait. Tell me about you. How are you holding up, with me being gone again on one of my trips?”
She had to be careful or she’d slip into a faraway stare too. This wasn’t the time to talk about her baby woes. Rather, her lack-of-a-baby woes. “Nothing much going on here. You missed a big family dinner today after church. Doug was even there.”
“Again? That’s two weekends in a row, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Wonder what he’s up to?”
“I don’t think he’s up to anything,” she said. “Maybe he just misses us.”
“Maybe.”
She knew why Allan had his doubts. The family was seeing less and less of Doug over the past twelve months. He had just finished up his freshman year and was beginning his sophomore year at Flagler College in St. Augustine. He was staying at a dorm on campus, but the college was only a ninety-minute drive from here. Before he’d left for college, he had vowed to drive home most weekends. That lasted maybe a month.
“Guess who else was at the dinner?”
“Who?”
“Audrey Windsor. Remember her?”
“Sure I do,” he said. “The lady who taught your dad how to dance.”
“That’s her. She called Dad this week saying she had something big to discuss with him, so he invited her to Sunday dinner.”
“You know what it was?”
“I don’t. Not yet, anyway. When the kids went down for a nap, I went out shopping with Jean for a little while. As we walked out the front door, I saw Audrey in Dad’s home office, still talking. Dad was clicking away on his computer, working on some kind of spreadsheet.”
Allan laughed.
“What?”
“I guess you really are curious.”
“Well, we haven’t seen her very much the last few months. She did say it was something big. And then they’re in there talking about it for hours. She was just saying good-bye when Jean and I came home from the store.”
“Well, maybe your mom can tell you what it’s all about tomorrow.”
“I’m definitely going to call her when I get home from school.”
Allan glanced at his watch.
“Do you have to go already?” she said.
“In a few minutes. But I’m also thinking about your bedtime. You’re teaching school in the morning. I know how hard it is facing those kids when you haven’t had enough sleep.”
That was definitely true. But she didn’t want him to go. “So you and your team are heading out to that place again? Whatever it is?”
“Korah. It’s a little village about fifteen minutes from here.”
“Well, at least it’s not very far.”
“It’s not. But it’s nothing like Addis Ababa. Even the worst parts of town are way better than anything there.”
There was that look again, like he wasn’t seeing her anymore. “What’s it like?” He didn’t answer for several moments. “Allan?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It must be awful.”
A long pause. “It is. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
From the pictures and videos Michele had seen of other places, that was really saying something. “Not on any of your trips?”
“Nothing even close.”
She wanted to help him, to be there for him. But maybe he was right. Maybe she shouldn’t hear all about this place right before bed if it was that bad. “What’s it called again?”
“Korah,” he said. “They call it Korah.”