Page 44 of The Risks of Reuniting

Chapter 17

Holt

Fourdayshavepassedsince I announced my ongoing love for Chloe – and even though she basically forgave me, I'm really trying hard to keep a positive outlook rather than beating myself up over it. Our time here is almost up, and I feel it slipping through my fingers every single day.

I can hardly concentrate on measuring out the wooden beams for the roof supports this morning because I'm so in my head about it all. Cesar is working with me and keeps giving me little nods to remind me of the advice he's given me for the past two nights straight. Pretend one of the thugs kicked me in the head, concussing my previous concussion, and backpedal – hard. I smile at the memory of his serious face over dinner last night, and again as we changed for bed, and again before clicking off the lamp. The poor guy is worried I've gone loco.

"You have to fix this, amigo," he keeps telling me.

He doesn't care that I've spoken with Chloe and we're okay. Like any true friend, he's afraid if I don't slow down, I'll get hurt all over again. But I can't backpedal. Not when the universe, in all her glory, put Chloe back in my path. She'd finally gotten out of her head enough to plan a foreign trip, and it happens to be the same trip I'm on? No way is this coincidence.

If anything, that attack on Sunday afternoon made everything clear as day. It's been horrible without Chloe in my life, and I'm willing to risk itbeing horrible while I work to get her back. If I'm going to suffer either way, I want it to be worth it in the end. So, sorry Cesar, I'm not done yet.

Resolve clears my mind and I get back to reading the plans Carlos gave us for this section of housing. Chloe isn't the only reason I'm here, and I'd do well to compartmentalize a little bit. I don't need more regrets in my life, and I will regret not giving the Peruvian people my best while I am here.

The morning is already warm, but I can feel the seasonal changes coming. The days will cool soon as they head into winter, and I wish I could stick around to see it. As it is, I've started wearing layers, and I'm almost ready to pull off the long-sleeved tee I'm wearing over a short-sleeved tee. Yep, it's T-shirts all day every day around here.

"Holt?" a man's voice cuts into my thoughts and I look up from my measuring tape to see Carlos walking toward me holding a large paper. "I have an update to the plan for this building." He's breathing heavily after hiking up the hillside to where we're working outside the compound today. "Let me show you."

I smile and force down a sigh. These types of last minute changes wouldn't be tolerated in my dad's construction business. They cost time and materials, and from a volunteer perspective I hate to see the work slow when there's so much need. Depending on the changes, Cesar and I may not get as far today as we'd hoped. At least I hadn't started cutting yet. We can't afford to waste wood.

"Sure. Let's take a look," I say to Carlos as I motion for Cesar to join us.

Carlos holds the paper to his side while he gestures up and down the small alley-like street where we're working to reinforce structures, and even build entirely new roofs where needed. The buildings are really glorified sheds, with no insulation, dirt floors, and hodge-podge materials.I've seen locals put them up in as little as two days, but they are often left incomplete because Lima has an interesting building code where only completed homes are taxed. It makes for a lot of unruly construction efforts. Of course, the little shanty town where we're volunteering doesn't seem to fall under any government notice at all, so I don't think that's what's keeping structures from completion.

There are five houses in this tight area that need our attention and I'd hoped to have them all finished this week so that we could move on to the next section, and the wall plaster crew can come in and finish these off. Compared to a lot of the structures, these homes will be nice. I'd love to see at least a few families have more livable dwellings by the time I return to the States.

"The families that are going to take these homes are smaller," Carlos says pointing at the small buildings on either side of the one where Cesar and I are working. "This home is a bigger family. We want to add a sleeping loft."

"A loft?" I ask. "We were putting on a flat roof, which makes that hard. We'd need to make it slanted. Don't we need permits for that?"

Carlos' lip tips up in a slightly sarcastic smile. "Do you think the pueblos jóvenes care about the laws? There are no laws here. Only families who need a house."

Well, that confirms my thoughts on government involvement. I swallow and look around, taking in the dozens of homes in this sloped area. They're built with scrounged items, tilted at strange angles, and far more dangerous than the home Cesar and I are reinforcing. I look back to Carlos and nod.

"Show me the plans."

The three of us look over the paper he's hand drawn and my stomach curls at the fact that all that these people get are crude, hand-drawn houseplans, built by two volunteers who care enough to show up. It's a far cry from my privileged life, and it doesn't sit lightly on my conscience. After thirty minutes of deliberations, and me borrowing Carlos's pencil to write out a plan, he turns and walks back down the hillside to the area where Lifting Hope is located. I watch him go as my mind races.

"Cesar?" I turn to my friend who is standing beside me, also watching Carlos's progress down the steep terrain.

"Si, amigo?" He tugs off his sun hat and wipes his brow.

"I want to finish these houses by Friday," I say.

"Si," he agrees. We're on the same page.

Then I dive into Spanish, because it's more comfortable for him and as easy as English for me, and this conversation needs to go quickly. We can practice his English later. Together, we come up with a plan that will mean little sleep but a whole lot of satisfaction. A slanted roof will take longer, but it's not difficult to do and will give this family some more living space.

As I watch my own determination mirrored in Cesar's eyes, I thank that same universe that brought Chloe back for bunking me with him this week. I'm a lucky sucker.

We skip lunch, and when we've also missed the dinner bell, people come looking for us. It's been a long day. Lima sits right up against the ocean, and the humidity makes everything sticky and that much more difficult, but I'm grateful for the constant haze over us that at least kept the sun from beating down on us.

The area around our work space is dark and quiet. I can hear people a few buildings over, but the homes here aren't occupied yet, so my first clue that a rescue party has been sent is the sound of Rachelle's southern accent calling out a cheerful greeting.

"Well, hello, you sweaty men," she calls. "We bring grub."

It takes me a minute to find her in the shadowy, unlit street, and when I see her marching up the hill with a foil-wrapped plate and jug of water, I'm faint with a mixture of relief and frustration. Did she learn nothing from the attack on Sunday? Why is she alone in the dark up here?

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