Missionary Daddy (13 page)

“May I ride with her?” she asked.

The paramedic did a double take. Sweat from the hot day and exertion beaded his upper lip. “Excuse me. Aren’t you Samantha Harcourt, that Style model?”

Sam gave him a dazzling smile, using her fame to advantage. “Yes. Now may I ride? She needs someone familiar at her side. Someone who understands what she’s going through.”

The man hitched his chin. “Climb in and buckle up.”

Sam turned back to Eric, the artificial smile gone, replaced by the grim reality of Gina’s situation. “See you in Richmond?”

“I’m right behind you.”

Four hours later, tired and hungry, Sam joined Eric in the hospital cafeteria for a very late lunch. Eric downed a burger and fries with unabashed male enjoyment while she nibbled a veggie wrap. During the last couple of weeks her appetite had returned to the point where she actually enjoyed the taste of food with a minimum of guilt. Only occasionally did the oppressive thoughts come, and even then, she was learning to cast those aside.

Had God done that for her?

“I hate this.”

Eric paused between bites, burger at his mouth. Both dark eyebrows went up. “The veggie wrap?”

He always made her laugh no matter how serious the situation. “No, goofy. I hate seeing young girls fall into the same trap I did. I want it stopped. It’s madness.”

“Can’t argue that.”

“There’s a beautiful, brilliant young girl lying in there fighting for her life. Do you know she plays piano like a pro? And her science-fair project last year won first in the entire state? And she has a four-point grade average?” Sam had made it her business to learn as much about the girl as possible. “We are losing some of our best and brightest to a destructive mindset that shouldn’t even exist.”

“You should know,” Eric said with a gentle tilt to his lips. “You’re beautiful, bright, talented. And it got you.”

“No more.” She slammed her napkin down, surprised at the surge of anger. “No more. Do you hear me, Eric? I want it stopped.”

“I’m with you. What do we do?”

“Before I leave here today I’m going to talk to Gina’s parents again. To Gina, too, if she’s up to it. And this time I won’t back down. She’s going to get help. I’ll see to it.” She’d even pay for it, but she would keep that between the Sharpes and herself. “I know the best places in America, in the world, for treatment.”

“Will they listen?”

“Let’s go find out.” With a determination she didn’t know she had, Sam pushed back from the round metal table. Eric shoved the last few fries into his mouth and rose with her.

“When you get fired up, you’re ready for action.”

“Yes, I am.”

Sandals clicking on the pristine white tile, she and Eric traversed the long hallway to Gina’s room. Food smells gave way to the antiseptic scent of disinfectants and medication. The frigid air-conditioning had her shivering. Or was that nerves for the confrontation to come?

She tapped softly at Gina’s door and pushed it open. In tandem, Gina’s parents turned, worry hanging over them like a shroud. Gina lay in the bed, awake. IV fluids dripped into both arms while a nasal cannula shot oxygen into her deprived brain. Her sunken eyes were dull and glassy.

“May I speak with you, please?” Sam asked, heart tattooing a rhythm against her rib cage.

“Sure. Come in.” Mr. Sharpe rose from an ugly green chair and offered it to Sam.

She shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you. What I have to say is easier said standing anyway.”

“We didn’t know,” Mrs. Sharpe began. “I’m sorry for the way we brushed you off that day after church.”

Sam held up a hand. “No need. I understand. That’s why I’m here.” She moved close to Gina and took the girl’s bony hand. “Gina, I know exactly what you’re going through.”

Gina stared up at her, expression only mildly curious. She said nothing, and Sam recognized the element of denial, even now in the face of overwhelming evidence.

The evil monster of anorexia wouldn’t turn Gina loose easily.

Knowing the battle she faced, Sam’s stomach jittered, but she pressed on. “I know, Gina. I
know.
We hide it. We lie about it. But we do it.”

“You?” Gina whispered.

“Me. But I’m recovering.
Recovered,
by the grace of God.” She glanced at the Sharpes, who listened with everything in their being. “Since I was fifteen years old, I starved, purged, dieted, exercised like a fiend, did anything I could to be thinner and thinner. And then one day I ended up like you. In a hospital. Only I was thousands of miles from home and family.”

Eric moved to her side and stood, a quiet, solid presence. Sam’s chest filled with gratitude. Opening her soul for someone else’s viewing was a scary thing. But if one person was helped by it, it would be worth the shame and humiliation.

Eric’s strong, supportive hand rested lightly at her back. She drew strength from him and went on, revealing the dark side of anorexia.

When she finished with her own story, Gina murmured, “But being thin made you famous.”

“Maybe. But at what cost? My health? My bones being so brittle that I risk osteoporosis? The chance that I may have a heart attack at thirty?”

She kept the worst inside, the despair too terrible to share, lest she break down. Today, Gina needed her help, not her tears. “I’d give up my career in a minute to get my health back. But it’s not too late for you.”

Gina’s eyes filled with tears. Thank the Lord. Sam was finally getting somewhere. She gripped the fragile hand a little tighter.

“I hate talking about anorexia. Hate it. But I’m telling you because I care. There’s help available and I want you to get it. I’ll help you get it, but ultimately you have to do the work to get well. I won’t lie to you. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Much harder than fasting or purging. But I can tell from personal experience, if you’ll let Him, God will help you every step of the way.”

“The doctor suggested a day treatment center here in Richmond,” Mrs. Sharpe put in. “I told him we’d do anything,
anything
to get our little girl well. We didn’t know. We didn’t realize.”

Compassion replaced the anger Sam had felt toward the Sharpes. “Anorexics are good at hiding the truth.”

“But we should have realized how thin and sick she is.”

Mr. Sharpe’s square jaw quivered. “Gina’s always been our perfect little girl. Our princess. She was all we ever had. We tried to be good parents.”

“Don’t blame yourselves.” As adoptive parents of an only child, the Sharpes no doubt worried they had failed in some way. Which explained their reluctance to accept Gina’s condition in the first place.

As Samantha spoke, encouraging, educating and listening to Gina and her parents, something new and wonderful blossomed inside her consciousness. A hope. A purpose.

Her agent had been after her to appear on
Afternoons with Douglas Matthews,
and though the concept made her nervous, she would accept. But she wouldn’t talk about modeling or clothes or other celebrities as Douglas suggested. She would do much more.

Even though she’d modeled for royalty and dated movie stars—all great topics to a talk-show host—none of them knew the ugly secret she would share with Douglas and his viewing audience. And ultimately the entire country.

Now, more than ever, she wanted to fight the madness that had cost her so dearly. And maybe by doing so, she would find purpose and meaning to her own empty life. If she could make a difference in other girls’ lives, accepting her own fate would be a lot easier.

She’d heard Eric talk of his work with children as a calling. Maybe, just maybe, here in this Richmond hospital on a hot August day, she had found hers.

A
pplication denied.

Eric’s living room was deathly quiet. Even Barker sensed the mood and lay at Eric’s feet, staring up with worried eyes.

The words from the caller hung in the air like a disease, deadly and unavoidable.

For reasons known only to themselves, members of the South African adoption council had made their decision. Amani and Matunde could not leave South Africa. Eric’s application to adopt the boys had been denied.

He’d made four more international phone calls hoping for answers, praying the caller had been wrong. The calls only confirmed his worst fears. The local authorities had ruled against foreign adoptions. Though Eric considered himself as much South African as American by virtue of the years spent in the country, apparently South Africa didn’t share his sentiment.

His hope for bringing many of the Ithemba children to America was gone, too. While he might work in other African nations, the one that held his heart and sons was closed.

How would he tell his boys that he could not be their father?

He wandered into the bedroom he and Sam had spent hours decorating. She’d gone a little overboard on their shopping trip, but her glow of pleasure had weakened his protests. With her creative eye, they’d made a perfect room for two little boys adjusting to a whole new world—a safari theme. Sam had even painted a savannah scene of green grass and baby animals on one of the golden-tan walls. Until then, Eric had had no idea she could draw and paint.

He rubbed a hand over his face, squeezing his lips together. He’d known rejection was a possibility, but he’d always thought God would make the adoption happen.

Grown men didn’t cry, but if they did…He picked up a stuffed monkey and stared down at it. Amani would have loved this. Guess he should put it in the mail.

Expecting to hear from her agent, Sam caught the call on the first ring.

“Hey.” Eric’s deep baritone tickled her ear. She closed her eyes against the wonderful sensation. She loved hearing his voice. And hated knowing their time together had to end.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing?” He sighed and she detected an element of sadness.

“Waiting on a call from my agent. Is everything all right?”

“No.”

A little sprout of anxiety shot up. “What’s wrong? Is Gina worse?”

Though she’d visited the hospital alone first thing this morning, an anorexic could put her life in jeopardy in a matter of hours.

“It’s not Gina. I talked to her folks. She’s really down and not talking much, but she isn’t worse.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Now that she knew her purpose in life, she wasn’t willing to lose one girl to the monster.

“Then what’s wrong? You sound awful.”

“I need to see you. Can I come over? Or would you come here?”

Sam faltered. Last night at the hospital, she’d decided to end things with Eric. But just hearing his voice brought back the indecision.

“I’m really kind of busy.”

“Oh. Okay. Well…”

Silence hummed in her ear. She couldn’t stand knowing he was hurting. “What’s wrong, Eric? Talk to me.”

“My petition to adopt Amani and Matunde was denied today.”

“Oh, no. Oh, Eric.” Her heart sank to her freshly pedicured toenails. “That’s horrid.”

“Yeah.”

Again that hum of silence, the heavy weight of his sorrow stealing the energy from him. She’d never heard him so low.

“Want me to come over?”

“Would you mind?”

This was the man she loved. He needed her. Eric Pellegrino didn’t normally need anyone, but he needed her. No matter that they had no future; they had today. And today the man she loved needed her.

“I’m on my way.”

When Eric opened the door, Sam walked straight into his arms and held him like a broken child.

“I’m sorry. I know how much you love those boys.”

“Yeah,” he murmured against her shampoo-scented hair, relieved to share his heartache with someone who knew Amani and Matunde. He had friends, but none of them had met his boys. Sam had. Sam loved them, too.

And if he were truthful, the only person he wanted to be with tonight was Sam. She was the partner he wanted by his side when life hurt.

For a long time, while Sam held him and he soaked in her love, they said nothing at all. No words were needed. She understood. That was enough.

Though he wanted to stay in her arms forever, when several more minutes passed, Eric sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and stepped back. Automatically, his hand found hers and held tight. He needed the connection desperately tonight.

“Let’s sit. Want something to drink?”

She shook her head. “No. I want you to be okay.”

“And I want my boys.”

They went into the living room and sat together on the fat brown couch. Still holding his hand, Sam scooted around to face him, knee to knee.

“What happened? Do you know what went wrong? Did they give you a reason?”

“The local authorities decided to end foreign adoptions. Period. The ball was in their court and they said no. End of story.”

“Can anything change their mind?”

“Nothing I or any of the people I work with know about.”

“I’m sorry.” His dog ambled in and collapsed at their feet with a low moan. “Even Barker seems depressed.”

Eric’s mouth quirked. “He is. I promised him two kids with enough energy to throw his stick all day long.”

“What can I do to cheer the two of you up?” Sam’s silvery eyes reflected his own sadness.

“Being here helps. I needed you, Sam. Thanks for coming.”

She glanced down at the dog and swallowed. “Maybe I should take you somewhere fun to get your mind off things. Would you like that?”

He shook his head. “Maybe another night. I’m not in the mood to enjoy much of anything. Tomorrow’s float trip will be hard enough.”

After the Noble Foundation Picnic, they’d promised to chaperone a group of the teens on a canoe trip down the James River as reward for all their hard work. Normally, he loved doing that kind of thing, but tonight the outing sounded more like a burden.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

Sam’s tone echoed his hesitation. Did she feel the loss of Matunde and Amani as deeply as he did? Or was there something else going on? She hadn’t wanted to come over tonight either, but after hearing the reason, she’d agreed.

“We promised the kids. We gotta do it.”

“Do they know about Gina yet?”

“I haven’t talked to anyone. With this coming down today…” He let the thought trail off.

“Tomorrow will be important then. They’ll need our counsel, yours especially. You’re the missionary disguised as a social worker.”

The joking reference to the day they’d played hide-and-seek with the media brought a smile. He’d kissed her that day and several times since. And with every moment and every kiss, he fell more and more in love with Sam Harcourt.

She’d admitted she cared for him. Was that the same as love?

“You were pretty amazing with Gina and her parents. Degree or not, you knew what to say and do in a very touchy situation.”

“Experience is a good teacher. Unfortunately, I’ve had more experience in that realm than I care to think about.”

They talked on. About Gina. About Sam’s decision to use her personal battle in a crusade against eating disorders. About the float trip. And most of all, with bittersweet memories, they talked of Amani and Matunde.

Sam understood the loss much better than Eric imagined. He’d lost his children. So had she. Only he could have more. She couldn’t.

The reminder crashed in as it always did, warning her that a Christian did what was best for the other person. And the best thing for Eric was to find a woman to love him and give him the children he wanted. Especially now that he’d lost the boys.

As much as the thought of Eric with someone else pained her, it was the right thing to do.

Tomorrow was absolutely the last time they’d be together as a couple. They’d have a great day, laugh together with the kids, and when it was over, she would cool their relationship. A little at a time, she’d let him go. After tomorrow.