God's Gift. Dee Henderson
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wondered if he had made the right choice, he had only to flip open his wallet and look at the pictures of the children the clinics had saved to know that for now, he had made the right decision. He was a patient man who planned to live a long life. There would be time for a good marriage, someday, not now—not while there was work that needed his attention. “You were able to keep my arrival quiet?”
“They think you were delayed by visa problems in Zaire. They aren’t expecting you until late tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” James rolled his shoulders, hating the pain that coursed through his body and up his spine, making every bone ache. “An hour ride should give me time to let another round of painkillers take effect.”
“Do the doctors know what made you ill?”
“No. It was probably an insect bite. They don’t know what it is, but they’re of the opinion that it will eventually run its course. I think Bob kicked me back to the States just to get me out of his office. He knows I hate a desk job.”
He had told Bob to replace him. In the remote areas where the crews worked, it was critical that every man be able to pull his own weight—lives depended on it. They couldn’t have a man who winced every time he swung a hammer managing a crew, no matter how intensely he wanted to keep the job.
James could tell that Kevin understood how deeply he had felt the loss; it was there in his eyes. He was grateful it wasn’t pity.
“Fifteen weeks of your mom’s good cooking, a baseball game or two and you will be back in Africa swinging a hammer, pouring cement, and wondering why you were crazy enough to go back.”
The house had been painted, the color of the shutters changed from dark green to dark blue, the flower beds extended along the length of the house as his mom had planned. He had grown up in this house, built in a subdivision of similar homes, the asphalt driveway going back to the garage the place of many impromptu basketball games. His dad had liked to play and James had liked the chance to razz him about getting old. James felt a deep sense of peace settle inside. He had really missed this place.
Kevin pulled into the drive behind a blue Lexus. James glanced at the car, impressed. His transportation for the last six years had been four-wheel drive trucks. He had always appreciated a nice car.
“I’ll bring in the bags,” Kevin offered.
“Thanks,” James replied absently, stepping out of the car and looking closer at the house. In the evening twilight he could see the porch still needed the third step fixed; it slanted slightly downward on the left end, and it looked as if the gutters were reaching the age when they should be replaced. He made a mental note to look at the window casings and check the roof, see what kind of age the shingles were showing. The grass was going to need to be mowed in another few weeks; he would have to make sure the mower blade was sharpened. The thought of being useful again felt good.
“Looks like your sister is here, that’s her van.”
“The Lexus?”
Kevin shook his head. “Don’t recognize it. You were the one who remembers cars.”
James led the way up the walk. “Do you still have my old Ford?”
“Runs like a dream. You would never know it’s got a hundred eighty thousand miles on it. It’s yours if you want it for the summer.”
“Thanks, I might take you up on that. You must have found a good mechanic.”
Kevin laughed. “With you gone, I had to.”
James quietly opened the front door.
His mom had redone the entryway with new wallpaper, a modern design with primary colors and bold stripes. The hardwood floors were slightly more aged but polished until they gleamed. The living room to the right had white plush carpet and new furniture, a gorgeous couch and wing-back chairs. The place was filled with light even though it was now dark outside, the room warmed by a crackling fire in the fireplace. A CD was playing country music.
The house smelled of fresh-baked bread.
There were puppies sleeping in front of the fire on a colorful braided rug. Two of them, white fluffy bears that were maybe three months old. They reminded James of the little polar bears he had seen in the Coca-Cola commercial on the flight home.
“James!”
His sister Patricia was coming down the stairs, had reached the landing when she saw him.
He met her at the base of the stairs with a wide smile, a motion to lower her voice, a deep, long hug. His ribs ached where she hugged him back, but he ignored the pain as best he could. He had missed her, his companion in mischief. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful,” he said, holding her at arm’s length to look at her. Her hair was longer and her face serene for being the mother of two children. Paul must be fulfilling his promise to keep her happy.
She laughed, her eyes wet. “What are you doing here today? We weren’t expecting you till tomorrow.”
“I like surprises,” he replied, grinning. “Where’s Mom?”
His sister returned the grin. “In the kitchen. She’s been so excited at the idea of seeing you.”
“James, I’ll leave you to the family. Call me tomorrow?” Kevin asked, touching his arm.
James smiled and reached out a hand. “I will. Thanks, Kevin.” He meant it more than he knew how to put into words.
James caught his sister’s hand and pulled her with him down the hall to the kitchen at the back of the house. He had snuck down these halls as a kid to raid the refrigerator during the night, and had spent a good portion of his teenage years sitting at the kitchen table dunking cookies in his coffee, telling Mom about the day’s events. Unlike most of his friends, he had loved to bring girlfriends home to meet his mom.
He leaned against the doorpost and watched his mom as she cleaned carrots at the chopping board. He felt tears sting his eyes. “Is there enough for one more?”
Mary spun around in surprise at his words and he saw the joy he felt mirrored in her face. The knife clattered down on the cutting board.
He steadied them both as her hug threatened to overbalance them, then leaned back to get a good look at her. “Hi, Mom.”
“You rat. You should have told me your flight was today.”
She had aged gracefully. He grinned. “And ruin the surprise?”
He stepped farther into the kitchen, his arm around her shoulders. “What’s for dinner?”
“Vegetable soup, beef Wellington, fresh asparagus.”
“And maybe apple pie,” added a voice touched with soft laughter from his left.
James turned. The lady was sitting on the far side of the kitchen table, a bag of apples beside her. She was wearing jeans and a Northwestern sweatshirt, her hair pulled back by a gold clasp, her smile filled with humor. The black Labrador he had entrusted to his mom when he moved to the mission field was sitting beside her.
The lady was gorgeous. She gestured with her knife toward the peels she had been trying to take from the apples as an unbroken strand. “Your mom swears this is possible, but you’re not supposed to arrive till tomorrow, so I have time to find out.”
James grinned at the gentle rebuke. “It’s all in the wrist,” he remarked as he moved toward her.
“Rachel Ashcroft. Most people call me Rae. Your mom is giving me a baking lesson,” she said lightly, holding out her hand.
James took her hand and returned her smile with one of his own. Rachel the Angel. His building crew had named her better than they knew. “Mom’s a good teacher.”
“And I’m a challenging student,” she replied with a grin. “It’s nice to finally meet you, James.”
He liked the sound