Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
JACK
When that waitress had asked for my order last night at dinner and I’d found my mother’s name on her name tag, it was like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t thought about my mother lately; it was too painful to. Seeing Sonia printed on the young woman’s tag had taken my breath away and created the hole in my heart that my mother’s death had caused to grow even deeper.
They said time healed all wounds. Not this one. Time made mine worse. I was starting to forget parts of her. What her laugh sounded like, the smell of her shampoo, how she had this little nervous twitch with her nose when stressed. I was letting her go and I couldn’t do that. She deserved to be remembered forever.
The only thing keeping me from wallowing in my misery right now was Hannah. Experiencing India through her eyes was like a breath of fresh air. Everything was new and exciting to her, from drinking from a coconut to having our cloth napkins at the table be in the shape of a swan. She was adorable, my own little personal sunshine.
I was fighting the depression that threatened to swallow me under. I’d suffered bouts of it off and on ever since my mother was murdered. Sometimes it lasted months, sometimes only weeks. When it hit, I had to tell Chloe to lighten my schedule at work, and Jason took on a heavier load. Everything was harder then: getting out of bed, showering, making dinner. I just wanted to do nothing during those bouts. It was like the darkness tried to hold on to me forever, but I always made it out. It was hard to live when you hated yourself, but I kept going because that’s what my mother would have wanted.
Right now, I wanted to go back to the hotel, crawl under the blanket, and sleep for a week, avoiding my phone and ignoring the world—but Hannah was here. This little ball of sunshine on the seat next to me happily pointing out every single cow or stray chicken we saw on our drive to the orphanage kept me going.
I usually made a point not to go to these things. Chloe was always going in my honor. I didn’t want praise—I gave money to poor people, big deal. It didn’t make me a good person. I mentally prepared myself for all of the thank-yous, and God-bless-yous I was about to receive as the car pulled up to the orphanage.
Jack Marrow House for Kids was written on a giant sign at the end of the road. Had Chloe done that? I never would have approved my name to be on this thing. I blushed as Hannah excitedly peered over at me.
“We’re here!” She was practically jumping in her seat.
This girl’s mother had cancer, yet she still was like a little golden retriever puppy, smiling and bouncing with energy. I adored her at that moment.
As the van pulled up to the large stucco house with giant wooden double doors, a flood of about twenty girls ran out to greet us, ducking under the big red ribbon that had been placed there ceremonially. They were all smiling and waving, and my heart clenched in my chest at the sight.
They looked clean and well cared for, part of what I had donated to. I hadn’t just bought fifty houses in India. I’d set them up for life. I’d donated a water well for each one and sent money for books, schooling, clothes, medical care—whatever they needed.
I glanced at Hannah to see her beaming as a small tear cascaded down her face.
Asha opened the car door, and we stepped outside.
“Jack!” the children cried out happily as they descended on Hannah and me. Their accents were thick, so it sounded more like Shack or Joc or something in between.
“Namaste.” I bowed to them, and all the girls, ranging from four to fourteen, burst into giggles. I’d probably said it wrong. “This is my friend Hannah.” I touched Hannah’s shoulder to convey my message.
“Anna!” The girls moved on to her, completely forgetting the H in her name. They reached out, touching her hair and giggling as Hannah grinned at them and allowed them to play with her blonde tresses.
It was such a special moment that I had to take a picture. I pulled out my phone and snapped a shot so quickly that I didn’t think she realized.
“Jack.” Asha called me over. “This is Dev and Priya. These are the girls’ house parents. They will live here and take care of them, make them meals, and see to their daily needs.”
An older Indian couple in their forties dropped to the ground and touched my feet, bowing their heads to the dirt.
“Oh,” I said, surprised. “No need to do that.”
“It’s our custom,” Asha told me. “They are very grateful for your help in giving these girls a life off the streets.”
Emotion clogged my throat again, and I wondered how quickly we could build another fifty houses. Or five hundred. Whatever it would take to get every child off the streets across the entire world. Did I have enough money for that? Probably not, but I could make a decent dent. I’d have to ask Chloe.
The couple stood and then started speaking rapid-fire Hindi or whatever language was their mother tongue, and I looked at Asha.
“They are very grateful for your generosity and wish that God would bless you greatly in return.”
Hannah stepped up beside me, smiling as a few of the little kids were hanging on her, one holding her hand. She’d already made friends; I wasn’t surprised.
“Oh, tell them they are very welcome,” I said.
Hannah’s eyes roamed all over the place, looking at the water well, the front yard, the big red ribbon, and the balloons in the entryway of the home.
Asha pulled out the scissors. “Shall we?” she asked, handing them to me.
“Hannah, you want to cut the ribbon?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “This is your blessing, Jack. You do it.”
My blessing . I’d never thought about it like that.
Reaching out, I cut the ribbon, and all the girls ran inside, screaming in joy. The entryway to the home was tiled, and they all gathered around a dining table that had been pulled off to the side.
There was a huge birthday cake sitting there. I frowned at it, confused.
Asha smiled. “Many of the girls have been on the streets since they were little, so they don’t know their real birthday or they’ve never celebrated it. Here at Angel House, we like to make the opening day of the orphanage their birthday and celebrate every year with cake. So today is all of their birthdays and they are very eager for their first bite of cake.”
I couldn’t help the little gasp of shock that came from me at that. My eyes welled with tears, and beside me, I saw that Hannah was struggling to keep her emotions in check as well. They didn’t even know the day they were born? They had never had a birthday? Or cake? It didn’t seem real. Or fair. A child never having tasted cake at this age.
Hannah stepped forward and slipped her hand into mine for a brief moment, squeezing. It was her way of saying she felt exactly what I felt. I squeezed back and cleared my throat, grateful for the support.
“Well, let’s dig in!” I announced.
We then sang happy birthday, and I watched as the cake was cut into twenty of the smallest pieces I’d ever seen and given to the girls. Even though the pieces were tiny, the girls grinned when they got them and shoved the whole thing into their mouths. Some of the girls got icing on their noses, which started all of them laughing.
It felt like this house, in the middle of rural India, was filled with more joy than I’d ever felt in my whole life. These girls had come from hard pasts. Some of them had really dark backgrounds. Yet they laughed and smiled and were grateful for a tiny sliver of cake. It made me want to never complain about anything in my life again.
Hannah leaned into me, and I smelled the coconut shampoo she must have used in the hotel.
“I’ll never look at cake the same again,” she whispered.
“Me either,” I muttered. I’d be grateful for every piece of cake or pie that ever came into my mouth from this day forward.
Next, we were given a tour of the five bedrooms the girls slept in. They had four bunk beds each. The linens were fresh and clean with colored patterns, and each girl had a backpack and a Bible on their pillow.
Hannah turned to me with surprise. “Is this a Christian organization you donated to?”
I chuckled. “You don’t find many atheists building houses for orphans,” I told her, and she grinned.
Angel House was a Christian organization, yes, and I didn’t have anything against the religion. It just wasn’t for me. If they wanted to give each kid a Bible with my money, it didn’t bother me. I just wanted these girls off the streets.
Over the next hour, Asha translated as Priya, the house mom, showed us the kitchen where she made meals for everyone. She seemed really proud of the space and her work here, which was nice to see. Happy people made me happy.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, I felt the jet lag hit again and I could tell Hannah did too. She was talking less and her eyelids looked droopy.
When we said goodbye to the girls, they all got one last touch of Hannah’s blonde hair, and then we got back into the van. As we drove away, the girls ran after the van, waving and screaming. “Bye, Shack and Anna!”
Hannah giggled, waving back at them as I just watched her. I’d dated some really beautiful women, but their beauty paled in comparison to Hannah’s and I was just now realizing that it was because Hannah’s beauty leaked from the inside out. There was a light inside her that lured me towards it, like a moth to a flame, hoping I could capture a fraction of it for myself.
When we were back on the road to the hotel, Hannah peered over at me. Our gazes connected and she sighed. “Jack, that was…so special. Thank you for bringing me. I’ll never forget that.” She took my fingers into hers and held them.
Her delicate skin brushed against mine and my heartbeat wildly.
“I’ll never forget you ,” I said to her. Because the reality was that she lived in Willow Harbor, I was in Seattle, and we were both about to go back to our lives. And I only visited Willow Harbor on Christmas.
She yawned, letting go of my fingers to cover her mouth, and then laughed. “Sorry. I’ll never forget you, either, Jack. You bought me a restaurant, remember?”
I grinned. “I remember.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder, and then a few minutes later, her soft snoring filled the car.
What I wouldn’t have given to have a woman like this own my heart. She was too good for me, though. I’d ruin her sunshine by bringing my clouds and rain.
No.
Best to just enjoy this trip for what it was and not look too much into it. Besides, once she found out I was a convicted felon who had done time for murder, she’d run far, far away from me. As she should.