Page 7 of Love Story
The man’s gaze drifted and he touched the extra sandwich. “She does love me. Forty-nine years. She’s all I have.”
If Andi didn’t move on, she’d drop to the ground from the heartache of it all.Please, God, let them find her. Please. She steadied herself and found her smile once more. “If you need me, I’ll be handing out sandwiches.” Andi hesitated. “Keep praying.”
“Yes.” He nodded again, his eyes still locked on some distant place or maybe some long ago memory. “I’ll pray. I will.”
The conversation, the sandwich, the prayer... all of it was a life rope for the man. Whether his wife was found or not Andi had given him a reason to hold on. And in so doing she had given herself a reason to hold on, also. Which was why she’d gone into relief work in the first place. As she helped others, she herself was helped. They were all trying to survive some kind of storm.
Whether it came with the wind and rain or not.
Andi picked up the sandwich box and moved to the next cot. She swiped her fingertips beneath her eyes and struggled to compose herself. The next victim needed her at her best. Tears came with the job, of course. But she had to find a way to hide them. People caught up in the aftermath of devastation and disaster desperately needed to be surrounded with strong people. Calm people. They needed workers with a solid plan for what happens next, people to listen to their terribly sad stories and pray with them. Workers who could get them food and water and shelter, so the shock would have a chance to wear off even a little.
Sometimes Andi waited till she got back to her hotel room before she let the tears come. People from her agency worked twelve-hour shifts every day as long as victims lived in their shelters. As long as they were needed. After a tragedy like the Louisiana floods, they would receive a month of paid leave. Time to recuperate and find restoration for their souls. So they’d have a well deep enough to draw from when the next disaster hit.
As far as Andi knew, they had at least another month before they’d have every flood victim placed in more permanent housing, before the next team could help everyone salvage whatever they could from their homes.
Today was one of the tougher days for Andi. She checked with the man at the front desk before she left. “What about the gentleman in Bed Eleven? Did they find his wife?”
The man’s expression fell. “Not yet. He’s been coughing, too. Probably inhaled water during the rescue.”
Andi looked over her shoulder at the old man. He was still sitting on his cot, still looking straight ahead, catatonic-like, the blanket still around his shoulders. In his hands was the second sandwich—the one for his wife.
“They need to find her.” Andi turned to the man. He was the crew leader this time around. “Can the medics start him on antibiotics?”
“They did.” Her boss gave her a sad smile. “Get some sleep, Andi. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
She breathed in deep. Already the air was pungent with mold and mildew—the way flood areas always smelled. She swatted at a mosquito on her arm and met the man’s eyes again. “I’ll try. See you in the morning.”
Andi boarded the shuttle that ran between the temporary shelter and the hotel where she and her co-workers were staying. A few seconds later, one of her co-workers—Caleb Rhimes—entered the bus and took the seat beside her.
“Hey.” His eyes were warm, deep. “Long day, huh?”
“Always.” Andi leaned her head back against the headrest. “So many hurting people.”
Caleb studied her for a beat. “I watched you today. With that older man.” He hesitated. “You’re the most compassionate person I know.”
His kind words were a balm to her ragged heart. “He can’t find his wife.”
“I figured as much.” Caleb took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m honored to know you, Andi Ellison.”
“Thanks, Caleb.” Andi smiled at him. Lately she enjoyed this work friend most of all. Their friendship might even be leaning toward an attraction. “You, too.”
Caleb was in his late twenties, a dark-haired handsome guy from Amsterdam. Last winter he came to the United States to do mission work, something he’d always wanted to take part in. He’d worked for a church in Louisiana before being hired by the disaster relief organization a few months ago.
This was the first mission he and Andi had worked together.
As they exited the bus onto the rain-soaked sidewalk, Caleb hugged her and kissed her cheek. The way Europeans and Hollywood types do. But this time his lips lingered and their eyes met.
“You are the highlight of my days here.” His breath was soft against her skin. “I want you to know that.”
A rush of heat filled her cheeks. “Thank you.” He made her feel beautiful and wanted. Something she hadn’t expected to feel again after Cody. “Get some rest.”
“You, too.” He walked her to the door of the hotel and they parted ways at the elevator. Caleb’s room was on the first floor, Andi’s on the third.
Long before she reached her room Andi knew this would be one of those nights when the tears came all on their own. When she was helpless to stop them. Caleb was interesting, yes. But how could he be more than a diversion? She didn’t want to live in Amsterdam, and he’d already told her that’s where he was returning when his term of relief work was over. Amsterdam was his home.
Once inside she adjusted the air-conditioning. The housekeeper must’ve dropped the temperature to sixty-eight degrees. Andi liked her room warm—with a breeze if at all possible. This time around she didn’t have a roommate, so she could keep the room how she liked. She raised the window and fresh air rushed over her. This far away from the flood zone, the night air smelled like sweet springtime.
She found her journal and her Bible in the nightstand and dropped to the chair near the window. Already tears trickled down her cheeks. Her eyes found a line of lights in the distance.Please, Father... Harry needs his wife. Even for a few more years. If she’s alive... please.
