Michele had been nervous standing in the main lobby of the Orlando International Airport, staring down the hallway as incoming passengers came through the gate area. It was Tuesday, late in the afternoon. Allan’s return route from Africa had been such a hodgepodge of different flights, even different airlines, with long layovers in large airports; she was afraid he wouldn’t show up on time.
But her fears had quickly dissipated when she saw his beautiful smile peeking out from behind a small crowd of women dressed in business attire. He looked exhausted, more so than he usually did coming home from these trips. They hugged and kissed, then hugged and kissed some more. She couldn’t help it; she started to cry. It just felt so good being back where she belonged, standing inside his strong arms.
They had gotten through the baggage claim process with little trouble. Miraculously, all of his bags had made it intact and were all there to greet them on the baggage conveyor belt.
Now they were almost home. They had just driven through the main entrance to River Oaks. Allan was in the passenger seat. She had kept the conversation mostly light, considering the almost dazed expression on his face. She was somewhat used to this from his previous trips. The jet lag was significant. It was four in the afternoon here. For Allan, it was one in the morning. The biggest jet lag she had ever experienced was three hours coming back from California.
Beyond this, she suspected his fatigue had more to do with culture shock. She watched his eyes as they drove home from the airport. She remembered that look from previous trips. It was as if he was seeing these very familiar buildings and places for the first time.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Just tired,” he said. “I’m sure that’s it.”
“Are you sure? You’re always tired when you come home from one of these trips. But you seem . . . different. Did anything happen since we talked the other night?”
He looked at her, then reached out his hand and stroked her cheek softly. “Not especially. Some things definitely happened. But not bad things. We went back out to that place I was telling you about.”
“Korah?”
“Yeah. Spent the whole last day there.” He shook his head, as if not believing the memories he was obviously reliving. “You can’t imagine it, Michele. I want to tell you about it, all about it. I might just need a few days to catch my breath.”
“That’s okay.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ll still be here in a few days. What was the first thing you ate when you got back on American soil?” Maybe changing the subject would help.
He seemed to think a moment. “I don’t remember. A sandwich, I think. Yeah, turkey and swiss cheese. It wasn’t very good, or maybe I just wasn’t that hungry. I still have half of it in my brief bag.”
This was different. Normally, he would get all animated talking about how wonderful it was to finally be able to eat a decent meal again. He wouldn’t even care that it was airport food.
“These places,” he said as they drove through the first big neighborhood in River Oaks, “they’re like castles. It’s like a fairyland. Like that place right there on the corner.” He pointed to a house not much different than the family house on Elderberry Lane. “After what I’ve been seeing in Korah, I can’t get my mind around the idea that one family lives there.” He almost sounded like he had a slight tone of disgust in his voice. He looked at her. “I saw places, little one-room shacks, where nine people lived. At night, they were packed in like sardines. Dirt floor, rusty tin roof. No streets, just mud.”
She didn’t know what to say. What should she say? Should she apologize? It felt almost appropriate. They continued driving through street after street of the most gorgeous homes and yards America could produce. River Oaks. Home sweet home. “Do you think . . . this is wrong? That people shouldn’t live in places this nice?”
“What? No. That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t think it is, anyway. It’s just so hard seeing these people—not the people here—in Korah, I mean, living with nothing. Absolutely nothing. And there’s not even the hope that someday their situation will improve. I talked with one old man. I thought he must be seventy or eighty. It turned out he was fifty-three. He’d lived his entire life there. I don’t think he could even conceive of the possibility of life on any street here in River Oaks. I couldn’t even find the words to describe it to him. He’d have no reference point.”
Allan paused, looking at Michele as she drove. “But the hardest part were all the kids. Hundreds of them. Most of them orphans. Just scrounging around every day, rummaging through dirty, filthy garbage, looking for anything they could eat. The smell was horrendous, Michele. Beyond belief. We not only lost our appetites, most of us felt like we would lose our breakfast any minute. I can’t even imagine being hungry enough to eat something I picked out of there.”
She made a few more turns. The townhome village where they lived was just a few minutes away. Their neighborhood was still gorgeous, but the homes were much smaller. Maybe seeing them would be easier for him to bear. “Well, are you still glad you went?”
“Yeah, I’m still glad. All in all, it was a fruitful trip. I’m sure we’ll be going back there. Maybe just back to Korah. Ray said he believes that discovering that place was the whole purpose of our trip.”
“What do you think?” She tried not to sound too enthusiastic. She was actually a little discouraged to hear him already talking about wanting to go back.
“I totally agree. As hard as it was. Nothing else we did on that trip even comes close to the significance of those last few days in Korah.” He turned toward her in his seat. Not just his head but his whole body, a new look of excitement on his face. “The guys . . . well, the guys and I . . . we decided we have to do something. None of us felt right seeing all of that and just walking away. We couldn’t live with ourselves if we did.”
She didn’t like the sound of this. “Like what?” She turned left down the little driveway that ran behind their section of townhomes. She could see their place just up ahead.
“Michele, we’re going to help this man we met build an orphanage there.”
“What?”
“An orphanage. Just a small one at first. But we spent most of the plane ride home figuring it out. It can work, Michele. It really can.”
“You’re saying we here. Who’s we?”
“Me and the rest of the guys.”
“What’s your role in this supposed to be?”
“Ray’s going to be the point man, in charge of all the fund-raising and kind of be the spokesman. He’s asked me to take care of all the logistics here at home. The administrative stuff.”
She pulled into the driveway. His face was all lit up.
Her heart was filled with dread.