to her senses and said the words herself: "We're making a big mistake."
After the initial grief and humiliation, she was actually relieved that Will had called off the engagement. She knew he loved her, but he loved his dream more. She loved him, too, but apparently she loved her dream more as well.
She could handle not being a mom because she'd never met the right man. But she didn't think she could ever have forgiven Will for marrying her and then denying her the only thing she'd ever really wanted from life.
Valerie winced at the memories. She sat up straighter and adjusted her seat belt, then rubbed her eyes, as though to wipe the thoughts away. She reached under the seat and pulled a paper from her carry-on bag--the information sheet from the orphanage that was her destination. Hope House, the missionary doctor visiting her church had called it. She studied the address.
Orphelinat d'Espoir, 7500 Carrefour Briz, Brizjanti, Haiti. According to the leaflet, the home's full name, Orphelinat d'Espoir pour l'Avenir, meant "Orphanage of Hope for the Future."
The flight attendant came by with a flimsy trash bag, gathering cups, rumpled napkins and pretzel wrappers. Valerie passed her empty cup over her still-snoozing seatmate and turned to stare out the window again.
Hope for the future. Ironic when she thought about Will and the dreams she'd had for her future. But that was just the problem. They were her dreams. It wasn't Will's fault he didn't share those dreams with her. She couldn't honestly say she'd given up hope that there might still be someone out there for her. But it couldn't be on her terms anymore. That much she'd learned.
The plane broke through a dense layer of clouds and sunlight streamed in through her window. Valerie sighed heavily and slid the window shade down. Then, bowing her head, she closed her eyes and laid her dreams, again, at the foot of the cross.
Max Jordan unbuckled his seat belt and stepped into the narrow aisle, steadying himself with a hand on the seat backs on either side of the aisle. He wasn't crazy about flying and was accustomed to traveling first class when he did. Unfortunately, he'd only been able to get in coach on this flight. It was a short hop from Miami, but already he regretted his decision. He stretched his cramped legs and made his way to the front of the plane where a flight attendant was emptying coffee grounds into the waste receptacle.
She looked up with a practiced smile, a question in her eyes. Eyes rimmed with premature crow's-feet. Twenty minutes in his office and he could take ten years off her face.
"May I help you?" She spoke it in a way that made him realize she was repeating herself.
"I'm sorry." He glanced pointedly at the empty carafe on the beverage cart. "I was hoping I could get another cup of coffee before we land. But it looks like I'm too late?"
"Sorry..." She lifted an arm to check her watch. "We're almost there, actually. The captain will be turning on the seat belt light shortly."
"Okay. Thanks anyway." He started back through first class to his seat. He'd been surprised to find that this was a full flight. And that it was mostly Haitians. Weren't the natives all trying to get out of Haiti instead of back in?
He nodded as he passed by a couple of American men. They acknowledged him with similar aloof nods and went back to talking about the stock market.
Max slid into his seat and refastened the seat belt loosely.
Across the aisle from him, an old Haitian woman sawed logs, while beside her a young blonde stared out the window. He guessed her to be American, but since she'd not spoken one word the entire flight, he couldn't be sure. She appeared to be traveling alone. She'd been slumped against the window, ostensibly sleeping, most of the flight. Max thought she looked sad--and nervous. He'd seen her take her passport out several times, as though reassuring herself it was still in her possession. He wondered what her story was.
A tone
After the initial grief and humiliation, she was actually relieved that Will had called off the engagement. She knew he loved her, but he loved his dream more. She loved him, too, but apparently she loved her dream more as well.
She could handle not being a mom because she'd never met the right man. But she didn't think she could ever have forgiven Will for marrying her and then denying her the only thing she'd ever really wanted from life.
Valerie winced at the memories. She sat up straighter and adjusted her seat belt, then rubbed her eyes, as though to wipe the thoughts away. She reached under the seat and pulled a paper from her carry-on bag--the information sheet from the orphanage that was her destination. Hope House, the missionary doctor visiting her church had called it. She studied the address.
Orphelinat d'Espoir, 7500 Carrefour Briz, Brizjanti, Haiti. According to the leaflet, the home's full name, Orphelinat d'Espoir pour l'Avenir, meant "Orphanage of Hope for the Future."
The flight attendant came by with a flimsy trash bag, gathering cups, rumpled napkins and pretzel wrappers. Valerie passed her empty cup over her still-snoozing seatmate and turned to stare out the window again.
Hope for the future. Ironic when she thought about Will and the dreams she'd had for her future. But that was just the problem. They were her dreams. It wasn't Will's fault he didn't share those dreams with her. She couldn't honestly say she'd given up hope that there might still be someone out there for her. But it couldn't be on her terms anymore. That much she'd learned.
The plane broke through a dense layer of clouds and sunlight streamed in through her window. Valerie sighed heavily and slid the window shade down. Then, bowing her head, she closed her eyes and laid her dreams, again, at the foot of the cross.
Max Jordan unbuckled his seat belt and stepped into the narrow aisle, steadying himself with a hand on the seat backs on either side of the aisle. He wasn't crazy about flying and was accustomed to traveling first class when he did. Unfortunately, he'd only been able to get in coach on this flight. It was a short hop from Miami, but already he regretted his decision. He stretched his cramped legs and made his way to the front of the plane where a flight attendant was emptying coffee grounds into the waste receptacle.
She looked up with a practiced smile, a question in her eyes. Eyes rimmed with premature crow's-feet. Twenty minutes in his office and he could take ten years off her face.
"May I help you?" She spoke it in a way that made him realize she was repeating herself.
"I'm sorry." He glanced pointedly at the empty carafe on the beverage cart. "I was hoping I could get another cup of coffee before we land. But it looks like I'm too late?"
"Sorry..." She lifted an arm to check her watch. "We're almost there, actually. The captain will be turning on the seat belt light shortly."
"Okay. Thanks anyway." He started back through first class to his seat. He'd been surprised to find that this was a full flight. And that it was mostly Haitians. Weren't the natives all trying to get out of Haiti instead of back in?
He nodded as he passed by a couple of American men. They acknowledged him with similar aloof nods and went back to talking about the stock market.
Max slid into his seat and refastened the seat belt loosely.
Across the aisle from him, an old Haitian woman sawed logs, while beside her a young blonde stared out the window. He guessed her to be American, but since she'd not spoken one word the entire flight, he couldn't be sure. She appeared to be traveling alone. She'd been slumped against the window, ostensibly sleeping, most of the flight. Max thought she looked sad--and nervous. He'd seen her take her passport out several times, as though reassuring herself it was still in her possession. He wondered what her story was.
A tone
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