Mission: Motherhood. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ Anna paused by a desk in the room behind the lobby.

      “It’s nice to meet you, Caitlyn.” The slim young blonde flashed a welcoming smile. “Especially since I’m sure you’re going to take some of the load off my shoulders.”

      “Laura is officially our secretary, but like everyone else, she does whatever needs to be done. And she does it very well, by the way.”

      Anna was out of the room before Laura could respond, but Caitlyn guessed Laura was probably used to that.

      “This will be your office.” Anna ushered her into a high-ceilinged room with windows looking onto a side lawn. It had probably once been a modest parlor, with its small fireplace and beautiful molding, but was now furnished with a computer desk and file cabinets. Several maps were pinned onto a bulletin board on the wall.

      Anna waved at the small blue pins that dotted the map. “Those are places where we have programs. We provide food, shelter, medical care, educational programs—anything we can to alleviate the suffering of those touched by war.” Anna’s passion was impressive.

      “It’s a big job.”

      “A huge job,” Anna agreed. “Those projects are ongoing, and they’re already established and running well. What I need you to do is coordinate the kinds of services we provide for individual special needs that arise frequently.”

      “I see.” She didn’t, but surely she was going to get more explanation than that.

      Anna bent over the desk for a moment and brought up a file on the computer. “Here’s the project I want you to start with. There’s very little information yet, but you’ll read everything we have.”

      “Yes, of course.”

      “Ali Tabiz was orphaned and injured in the fighting. We’ve been contacted by Dr. Mike Montgomery, a surgeon with the army currently stationed in the Middle East. We’ve worked with him for a while. Little Ali may need heart surgery, and Mike wants him brought here to see a pediatric cardiac surgeon. That’s your job.”

      So she was supposed to get a minor foreign national out of a war-torn country and bring him to Texas for treatment. She couldn’t even begin to ask the questions that flooded her mind.

      “Don’t panic,” Anna said. She pulled out a black three-ring binder. “Our last coordinator was very organized, and we’ve done this sort of thing many times. She’s outlined a step-by-step process with all the things you’ll need to do.”

      Caitlyn grasped the binder as if it were a life preserver and she were sinking under the waves. “Good. I’m going to need it.”

      “You’ll be fine. And I’m just across the hall. Come to me with any questions.” She frowned slightly. “Dr. Mike is usually in touch via e-mail, but sometimes things get pretty hot where he is.”

      “You think that’s why you haven’t received any other information?” That must mean that the child was in a dangerous place, as well.

      “Probably, but we won’t waste time. You can start by alerting the medical facilities and personnel we normally use that we’ll have a case coming their way. Once we know more, you can get the details nailed down.”

      Someone tapped on the frame of the open door, and Caitlyn turned to see Sarah, the kindergarten teacher. “Anna, you’re needed on the phone. It’s some CEO who wants to make a donation and won’t talk to anyone else.”

      “Okay, I’ll take it. Never turn down an eager donor.” Anna was gone in an instant, leaving Caitlyn with her mouth still open to say goodbye.

      She looked at Sarah, who stood there smiling, probably at her expression. “You didn’t tell me she was a whirlwind.”

      Sarah laughed. “How else would she get everything done? Don’t worry—you’ll get used to it.” She waved and disappeared, leaving Caitlyn staring blankly at the computer screen.

      She found she was still clutching the binder. All right. She could do this. She needed a job, and here it was. She wouldn’t let anything keep her from succeeding at it.

      An hour later she was feeling far more confident. As Anna had said, her predecessor had been organized.

      She’d already made several calls, and she’d been pleasantly surprised by her reception. The physicians and hospital administrators had obviously worked with Children of the Day in the past and were perfectly ready to jump into the new project. As soon as she had some more information—

      That was the sticking point. No one could do anything until they learned a bit more about the case. She checked the e-mail inbox again, feeling a flutter of excitement at a message from Dr. Montgomery. Maybe this was what they needed.

      She clicked it open, and a small face appeared on the screen. This, clearly, was Ali Tabiz.

      Big brown eyes, short dark brown hair, an engaging smile. According to the brief statistics attached, the little boy was five, the same age as the twins, but he looked—what?

      She grappled for the right word. He was small, maybe suffering from the shortages that went along with having a war in your backyard, and there was a bruise over one eye. But he didn’t look younger than the twins. In a way, he looked older, as those dark brown eyes seemed to hold a world of sorrows.

      “Cute kid.” The voice, coming from behind her without warning, startled her so much that her hands jerked from the keys, and she swung around. It was Steve Windham again, this time in uniform. Somehow it made him seem even taller, his shoulders even broader. Or maybe that was because she was sitting down.

      She shoved her chair back, standing. “Steve, hello.” She noted the bars he wore. “Or should I say Captain Windham?”

      He shook his head, giving her that easy smile. “I’m Chaplain Steve to everyone. Since we’re old friends, I’m just Steve to you.”

      She wouldn’t, she decided, exactly call them old friends. “First the elementary school, now Children of the Day. Are you following me?”

      His grin widened. “Afraid not. Not that that’s not a good idea.”

      Maybe it was safest to ignore the comment. “What are you doing here?”

      “I coordinate all the military volunteers who work with Children of the Day, so I’m in and out of the foundation office all the time.”

      “Painting at the elementary school, volunteering here, counseling the grieving—surely a chaplain’s not expected to do all that.”

      “All that and more.” He shrugged. “An army chaplain has a surprising amount of autonomy. His or her duties are what he or she makes of them, outside of regular services. I follow where the Lord leads me to minister, and He led me here.”

      Which meant she’d be tripping over him, apparently. He’d been right to remind her. Prairie Springs was a small town.

      He nodded toward the computer screen. “Is this little guy your first project?”

      “Yes.”

      He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not a state secret, СКАЧАТЬ