laughs. “Lets just say he's willing. And since he's a friend of the family's, maybe he's afraid to say no.”
Okay, I'm not sure what this means, but I tell her I think it sounds like a good way for me to do some research. “Let me ask my aunt first,” I say as Sid emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head.
“Ask me what?” she says.
I explain Lydias idea, and Sid thinks it sounds good. “I've got some writing to do this morning anyway,” she says. “Go ahead.” And so I agree to meet Lydias friend Peter Sampala at Saint Luke's at ten.
“This is really a great opportunity,” says Sid as she towels her hair. “You can get some first-person accounts that I can excerpt. That Lydia is really a smart girl.”
I fill Sid in a bit on Lydias history, how she was adopted by the Johnsons. “She wants to go to med school,” I say, “but she has to earn tuition first.”
“Wow, that's got to be a challenge.” Then Sid gets that light-bulb look on her face. “But what if someone partnered with her to support her financially? For instance, my editor, who has no children of his own but has a big heart for Papua New Guinea? What a great way to invest in this country's future.”
“That's a very cool idea.”
“Or maybe my church?” she says. “They're always looking for some new kind of international outreach.” I can see the wheels spinning in her brain as she skims over the room-service menu.
“Maybe my church too,” I suggest. “Maybe our youth group could do some fiind-raisers.”
“Lets have breakfast in the room today.” Sid tosses the menu to me. “I dont feel like getting dressed this morning.”
I order our breakfast and take a shower, and then we discuss Lydias future a bit more while we eat. Strange as it sounds, it seems that Lydias chance of being adopted more than once in her lifetime is becoming a distinct possibility.
“But lets not tell her for a while,” says Sid as she sips her coffee. “Just see how it goes. Besides, I'd like to check some things out back home first.”
“Sure,” I agree. “No sense in getting her hopes up.”
“Well, you should probably head over to the clinic now, Maddie.” She studies me with a concerned look. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Why not?”
“Well, remember how you got kind of sick to your stomach when we were there yesterday?”
“That might ve been from the Malarone,” I point out.
“Speaking of which…” She gets up and goes to her purse for our pills.
“Besides, I was thinking about it,” I say as she gives me a pill. “You know, I grew up on a farm. I've shoveled everything imaginable. I've helped deliver calves and lambs and foals. I've buried dead animals. I don't think being in that clinic should get to me like it seemed to yesterday.”
She nods now. “You're probably right. To be honest, I was feeling a little queasy in Sydney, and that was the second day we took the malaria pills.”
“So,” I proclaim, “that's what I'm going to blame it on.”
“Good for you.”
“It was really bugging me to think that I couldn't handle being around sick people like that,” I admit. “I mean it seems so shallow and selfish. Yesterday I kept thinking, what would Jesus do?”
She smiles sadly. “Heal them?”
“Don't you wish?”
“Well, good luck. And don't forget to take lots of notes.”
I pick up my notebook, then slip it into my bag.
“Let me get you some kinas for the taxi or whatnot,” she says, getting into her purse. “And do not walk anywhere by yourself, Maddie. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Take my cell phone too.” She hands me her phone and the money. “Don't be afraid to use my phone if you need to. In fact, why don't you give me a call to let me know when you get there and when you're coming back. Do you have the hotel phone number?”
I pick up a piece of notepaper from the desk. “It's on this.”
“Okay.” She looks carefully at me.
Okay, I'm not sure what this means, but I tell her I think it sounds like a good way for me to do some research. “Let me ask my aunt first,” I say as Sid emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head.
“Ask me what?” she says.
I explain Lydias idea, and Sid thinks it sounds good. “I've got some writing to do this morning anyway,” she says. “Go ahead.” And so I agree to meet Lydias friend Peter Sampala at Saint Luke's at ten.
“This is really a great opportunity,” says Sid as she towels her hair. “You can get some first-person accounts that I can excerpt. That Lydia is really a smart girl.”
I fill Sid in a bit on Lydias history, how she was adopted by the Johnsons. “She wants to go to med school,” I say, “but she has to earn tuition first.”
“Wow, that's got to be a challenge.” Then Sid gets that light-bulb look on her face. “But what if someone partnered with her to support her financially? For instance, my editor, who has no children of his own but has a big heart for Papua New Guinea? What a great way to invest in this country's future.”
“That's a very cool idea.”
“Or maybe my church?” she says. “They're always looking for some new kind of international outreach.” I can see the wheels spinning in her brain as she skims over the room-service menu.
“Maybe my church too,” I suggest. “Maybe our youth group could do some fiind-raisers.”
“Lets have breakfast in the room today.” Sid tosses the menu to me. “I dont feel like getting dressed this morning.”
I order our breakfast and take a shower, and then we discuss Lydias future a bit more while we eat. Strange as it sounds, it seems that Lydias chance of being adopted more than once in her lifetime is becoming a distinct possibility.
“But lets not tell her for a while,” says Sid as she sips her coffee. “Just see how it goes. Besides, I'd like to check some things out back home first.”
“Sure,” I agree. “No sense in getting her hopes up.”
“Well, you should probably head over to the clinic now, Maddie.” She studies me with a concerned look. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Why not?”
“Well, remember how you got kind of sick to your stomach when we were there yesterday?”
“That might ve been from the Malarone,” I point out.
“Speaking of which…” She gets up and goes to her purse for our pills.
“Besides, I was thinking about it,” I say as she gives me a pill. “You know, I grew up on a farm. I've shoveled everything imaginable. I've helped deliver calves and lambs and foals. I've buried dead animals. I don't think being in that clinic should get to me like it seemed to yesterday.”
She nods now. “You're probably right. To be honest, I was feeling a little queasy in Sydney, and that was the second day we took the malaria pills.”
“So,” I proclaim, “that's what I'm going to blame it on.”
“Good for you.”
“It was really bugging me to think that I couldn't handle being around sick people like that,” I admit. “I mean it seems so shallow and selfish. Yesterday I kept thinking, what would Jesus do?”
She smiles sadly. “Heal them?”
“Don't you wish?”
“Well, good luck. And don't forget to take lots of notes.”
I pick up my notebook, then slip it into my bag.
“Let me get you some kinas for the taxi or whatnot,” she says, getting into her purse. “And do not walk anywhere by yourself, Maddie. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Take my cell phone too.” She hands me her phone and the money. “Don't be afraid to use my phone if you need to. In fact, why don't you give me a call to let me know when you get there and when you're coming back. Do you have the hotel phone number?”
I pick up a piece of notepaper from the desk. “It's on this.”
“Okay.” She looks carefully at me.
Similar Books
