Читать книгу The Doctor's Bride - Patt Marr - Страница 7

Two weeks later

C hloe could work anywhere in the world and feel at home. The filth and danger that followed catastrophic natural disasters were challenges, but she could sleep on a cement floor, be thankful for any food the Red Cross workers dished up and find the bright side to the worst situations.

So why was she scared out of her mind by her new job? All she had to do was walk into the Beverly Hills Terrace Hotel, follow the signs to her Love Into Action workshop and speak on a topic she knew thoroughly. She had the promise that the Lord would give her nothing too great to bear, not even this new skirt that felt too short and this jacket that felt too snug.

Her sisters had said the suit fit just right, but they’d also said she looked great in it. That had to be more like a confidence builder than a true assessment, but then, what did a T-shirt-and-khaki-pants kind of woman like herself know? Her wardrobe had been perfect for the work she’d done the last eight years. If she had her choice, she would still be doing that job and wearing those clothes, but dwelling on that only made her depressed.

Her grand makeover wasn’t much of a morale booster either. She’d liked her natural look, but her sisters had persuaded her to put herself in the hands of pros who’d trimmed her long dark hair and taught her to apply makeup that made her eyes pop and her skin glow. She now owned all these bottles, jars and tubes of makeup that they expected her to use every day.

Since she’d been about six, she’d concluded that God had created her for the express purpose of making her tiny, beautiful sisters look adorable in comparison to herself, but that wasn’t quite as true since her makeover. The ugly duckling had become something of a swan. Sort of an apprentice swan. A tall apprentice swan.

She still towered over her sisters, but she’d gone shopping with them last week without dreading it as much as usual. That hadn’t lasted long. They’d looked appalled at everything she’d pulled off the rack. Granted, she was eight years behind in fashion trends, but was her taste that bad?

At least her suit today was blue, her favorite color, and she loved her new strappy heels. She still wobbled when she walked in them, but they added inches to her height of five feet nine and made her feel really, really tall. From this view she could look anyone in the eye. And she couldn’t miss the sign atop a conference-room door that read The Clayton Room.

That was supposed to be her room, but there had to be some mistake. This room was way too big. This was not the small, intimate environment she’d been promised for her first speaking engagement. Even when she’d pictured herself in a small room with a handful of people, she’d felt queasy. But this room! Her knees sort of buckled, and she sank to a chair on one of the aisles.

Aisles! More than one!

Lord, help! You know my heart. I want to serve You, but I can’t do this! Maybe this new job isn’t Your will, or maybe I’m just in the wrong room.

“Chloe! I see you’ve found your room.” A personable, gray-haired man extended a welcoming hand. “I’m Craig Zook, the workshop coordinator.”

“It’s nice to see you, Craig.” Her voice came out steady, despite her near-panic. “I think I must be in the wrong room.”

“No, this is all for you,” he said with a satisfied smile, scanning the many chairs. “I know it’s not what we discussed, but blame the room change on these pictures in the program. You’re in every one with children from Bangladesh, Thailand, Indonesia, Nicaragua, Peru and places I’ve never heard of.”

“Since I don’t have experience as a speaker, my supervisor thought the pictures would give me credibility.”

“Then, mission accomplished! You’ve created quite a buzz, Chloe Kilgannon. Our conferees want to see the speaker who’s lived her topic, ‘Loving Children—Face to Face.’ I know God’s going to use you today.”

She’d come here, believing that.

Conferees were drifting in, so she headed for a chair near the stage. Maybe she could pray her panic away. She opened her program to the pictures and felt the familiar heart tug of loving these children.

When she’d first been told that her bout with dengue fever meant the end of fieldwork, she’d thought her heart would break. How could the Lord use her better as a seminar speaker? Raising public consciousness to the need of loving children more was a job that needed doing. And she would do it…if she could make it to the stage without throwing up.

Dr. Zack Hemingway waited at yet another red traffic light, the seventh since he’d been counting. He could see the Terrace Hotel from here, and he could imagine his mom sitting alone at the Love into Action conference, wondering if he would show up for the last workshop before lunch or if he’d show up at all. He’d said he would meet her for breakfast, but an emergency surgery had changed that.

The day after his dad’s funeral three months ago, when she’d mentioned how much she wanted to attend the Love into Action conference here in L.A., he’d wanted to shout. Not only was Mom making plans for a new life, he could give her a gift that didn’t involve him “settling down,” which was Mom-talk for saying she wanted grandkids.

The light changed and Zack inched forward in the heavy traffic. Another five minutes and he’d be sitting in the workshop she’d chosen. It had to do with the global needs of children. They’d show those heartbreaking pictures of little kids with their tearful eyes and ask for donations. He would rather write a check, skip the conference and drive Mom up to Santa Barbara for a day of fun in the sun.

Finally, Zack pulled into the Terrace Hotel drive, tossed his car keys to a parking valet and took off at a jog. What was the workshop called? Loving Children—Face to Face?

He hurried toward the right room, straightening his tan suit jacket. Mom said the color looked best with his hair, a nondescript brown cut so short it couldn’t possibly matter. He tightened his blue tie, a present from her because it matched his eyes. Would she notice he’d made the effort?

Finding the Clayton Room was easier than spotting Mom. The room was packed, and every chair seemed to be taken. There she was—second row, center—sitting beside an empty chair. She must have had faith he would get here.

He slid in beside her and said, “Sorry, I’m late.”

“But you’re not,” she said, giving him one of her sweet smiles, complete with dimples. “It’s just starting.”

From her seat near the stage, Chloe stopped praying long enough to glance around. It looked as if every chair was filled. Bile rose in her stomach.

“Hi Chloe, I’m Marilyn James, your workshop moderator.”

The lovely woman extending her hand looked familiar. Most of the moderators were Hollywood celebrities, but Chloe was too out of touch to recognize her.

“Are you ready?” the woman asked with an encouraging smile.

Chloe opened her mouth to say she was fine. When absolutely nothing came out, the moderator gave her an understanding look and took one of her hands.

“It’s only a little stage fright. Let’s pray about it, Chloe.”

Chloe closed her eyes and gripped the woman’s hand.

“Father God, You’ve given Chloe experiences that we need to hear about today. Strengthen her in every way. Help her remember that she speaks for You, and give her the assurance that You will have the right words for her to say when she needs them. In Your Son’s name, amen.”

“Amen,” Chloe echoed, feeling more like herself. How could she have let herself get so worked up when this was all about the Lord and His children?

“I’m going to introduce you now. Okay?”

“Perfect. Thank you, Marilyn.”

She headed for the dais, and Chloe told herself that all she had to do was stay calm until she made her opening remarks. Then the house lights would dim and she would be in the dark, talking about her friends on the big screen. The children were the story.

“Good morning,” Marilyn began, speaking into the mike. “Our speaker grew up right here in Beverly Hills. At the age of twenty, she’d graduated magna cum laude from UCLA and completed her course work for her Ph.D. Her travels began as research opportunities, but turned into long-term humanitarian service.

“From news reports, you’ve heard of devastating natural disasters all over the globe, but our speaker has been there, on the scene, setting up the care of children separated from their parents.”

The longer the woman spoke, the less calm Chloe felt. Her heart raced, her breath came in short, rapid spurts and she couldn’t think of anything she’d planned to say.

“This workshop will present information on short-term international service and give suggestions for long-term ways to show love close to home. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome home our speaker…Chloe Kilgannon.”

The audience applauded and Chloe stood. If she put one foot in front of the other, she could make it. Had anyone ever died of stage fright? Would she throw up first or just pass out? Would there be a doctor in the house?

Zack watched the speaker approach the podium and wondered if there could be two Chloe Kilgannons. Carmen and Cate said he’d met their sister, but he couldn’t have forgotten this attractive, poised woman. She stood at the podium, looked across her audience and smiled. Wow! What a great smile.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” his mother whispered.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say she was terrific, but if he didn’t check that impulse, no doubt Mom would find a way to introduce him to Chloe. He’d rather handle it on his own.

Chloe held on to the podium with both hands just in case her knees gave way. She was that nervous. Nearly every seat was taken, which was amazing considering she was a nobody. They hadn’t shown up to hear a famous speaker, so that had to mean they wanted to make a difference for the Lord. That soothed her nerves and gave her the boldness to begin.

“When God puts a passion in your heart for His children,” she said, the words coming out with surprising ease, “your life is enriched beyond measure. The last eight years of my life have been all I could have asked for, even though the living conditions were far from the luxury you and I take for granted. I’ve come to define luxury as warm water to bathe in and cool water to drink, clean air, a change of clothing, a blanket, an umbrella, a toothbrush, a picture of a loved one.

“I’ve discovered that luxury such as we know becomes a cocoon—a comfortable place that prevents us from experiencing the exhilarating joy of helping people who really need us—children who need us, children like these.”

Chloe nodded to the projectionist. The house lights dimmed and the first picture of her little friends appeared on the screen. Just as she had hoped, standing here in the dark, looking at children she loved, her nerves vanished and she wasn’t scared anymore.

Zack’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and pictures of children flashed across the screen behind Chloe. In the ambient light from the projection, her slenderness gave her a youthful appearance but she had to be in her late twenties.

“You’ll notice that most of these children are well dressed and well nourished. Their physical needs have been attended to.”

None of the photos stayed on the screen more than a few seconds, but the quantity of them made a big impact.

“Many of these children lost their homes, their family members and all that was familiar, but mixed in with their pictures are those of children who live right here in the U.S.A. They live in your neighborhoods. They may lack for nothing materially. They might even have family, yet they share a common denominator. Do you see it?”

The pictures went on and on. As a doctor, Zack had seen misery on many levels and had assumed he was beyond shock, but he’d been wrong. Looking at these children caught him off guard. From the silence in the room, he wasn’t the only one.

Kids who knew they were being photographed usually rose for the occasion and showed plenty of personality, no matter how sick or miserable they were, but not these kids.

“They look lost, don’t they?” Chloe said softly, as if she hated to speak at all. “You may have already guessed that the common denominator is the lack of love in their lives. No government can guarantee love for its youngest citizens, yet, without it, there’s no joy, no hope for a better tomorrow.”

He could see what she meant, and it got under his skin.

“The children in your life need your love,” the speaker said simply. “And the good news is that you are here. That must mean you care.”

She was giving him more credit than he deserved. He hadn’t thought about any of this before, but he should have.

“Most people feel like a monetary gift is all they can provide, and it is a significant expression of your love, but dollars alone won’t put hope back in the eyes of children. When you want to reach out in a personal way and need to know how, Love Into Action can point you to reputable agencies who never have enough volunteers. Would you pray with me about what we can do together?”

Zack reached for his mom’s hand, just as she’d taught him to do when was he was little.

“Father God,” Chloe prayed, “we ask that You show us how we are to love Your children. We want to be Your voice, Your hands, Your feet. Lord, use us…in small ways or big…in our own communities or in faraway places. Through us, Lord, let children feel love, joy and great blessing.”

Zack’s emotions seesawed from wanting to do all he could do to wishing his mother had asked for a birthday cruise. If he were being asked for money alone, he could write that fat check and let his conscience move on.

Chloe then talked about their workshop packets and invited conferees to call, write or e-mail her. There was no hard sell on her part and no overly impassioned plea for their participation, only the statement that she was there to help if they needed it.

“Let me end with this thought,” she said, looking at the final screen, a picture of a little girl holding her older brother’s hand, both of them so pitifully sad that Zack felt a sting of tears behind his eyes. “When you think of the overwhelming need…when you know it’s more than you can possibly handle…you will be right.”

She’d read his mind. He didn’t want to fail kids like these, but what could he do, outside of writing that check?

“You can do more than you think you can.” She paused as if she searched for the right words to bring her message home. “Remember that something is better than nothing. The one smile, the one look of recognition, the one kind word you give to a child may be the only one he receives today.”

Zack hated to believe that was true, but if it hadn’t been for his mom’s smiles and encouragement, he could have been just as sad as the kids on the screen. Would he have had the courage to achieve what he had?

His mom wiped tears from her cheeks.

Chloe was good. Really good. She had him wondering how he interacted with kids in his life. Did he ignore them while he talked to their parents? Did he ever kneel to meet their eyes?

And she had him wondering about her as more than a conference speaker. How could a guy help but admire a woman like her? Was she single? With all that world travel, she might be.

How was he going to meet her? He was terrible at making the first move. If his mother so much as sniffed at his interest, she’d make it for him, he’d be embarrassed, and his chance to know this cool woman would be over. It might be awkward, but he had to make that first move.