AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When I did, I’ll never forget those first few hours of dealing with the heat.
Never had I dealt with humidity so extreme my rigid lace bra stuck to my skin within minutes of stepping outside. A shuffle on the wharf alerted me to the large number of military present. It wasn’t the guns that spooked me. More, the shouting in another language, and I couldn’t understand their demands. If I didn’t understand, how would I know if I was doing something wrong or even illegal? How could I reason with anyone? Not learning Spanish added to my long list of regrets as I stepped into a foreign world that will be my home for at least the next twelve months.
When I reached the wooden deck of the port, a woman, Maria Pérez, greeted me. She took me aside and after confirming my identity, led me past the military, shouting something in Spanish as we walked.
It took all my energy to keep up with her, especially since my sea legs were not cooperating. I asked her why people were shouting.
In her thick Spanish accent, she explained they were calling out Yankee interference about the Americans coming to work as they have a better tax system and can return with more money than if they stayed in the US.
Politics. I was clueless, so I asked her about our itinerary, and she spoke so quickly I could barely make out what flight we were to take to Venezuela. I caught her words ‘visa’ and ‘passport,’ and I already packed them in my small case. The plan was to then continue onto another flight to Canaima come morning. Diego will meet us for orientation for my medical role in the camp.
After months at sea, the four-hour flight didn’t bother me, nor did the never-ending questions Maria had to translate at customs. The following morning, we were ready to board another flight to Canaima, a tiny, beat-up aircraft that barely appeared capable of leaving the ground. Only then I wanted to stomp my foot and say enough.
Until I remembered what I had given up on coming here to live my dream—Albert and Winston were back home, surviving without a mother and a wife. If I were to give up now…
No, I was stronger than that.
So, I boarded the plane and prayed we landed safely. And we did so in an hour of flight time.
As Maria promised, Diego was there to meet us at the flight strip and would drive us to the camp. He told me how appreciative they were to have someone like me with my expertise. They have volunteers only, and more are needed as most head to Africa or Europe. They would pay me well in gold, even as a volunteer.
If I were to reread this entry, I’m to remind myself of the ride in the jeep as the bumpiest I’ve ever experienced. Hence, the bad handwriting.
Only my thoughts are fresh, and I intend to document every part of my journey.
I’m about to be overwhelmed with emotion when we arrive at the base camp.
I hope to write about the most amazing adventure while helping those unable to receive the benefits of modern medicine like many of us in the modern world.
9
SAMUEL
Samuel’s dream seemed real as it’s almost a recount of the past. With his people, they trudged against stems of thick leaves to forge their own path—a path into the unknown. Yet they trusted and relied on him to get them to safety wherever it may be.
He tosses and turns in the covers, his dream broken by the roar of modern heavy machinery that sounds like it’s coming through his window.
Rubbing his face, he then clambers out of bed. Construction work has begun on the resort pool—the project Eden is determined to see through. Rose screams from the other room, so he dashes to her and swings open the door.
“Dad-da.” She lifts her arms for him.
“Come here, my beautiful girl.” Lifting her into his arms, he presses her head against his chest. “Dad-da is here. You’re safe with me.” A promise he’ll uphold her entire life. He takes her to his bedroom and points down to the trucks.
Eden is standing nearby wearing an industrial yellow hard hat, looking every bit as sexy as the day they first met. “Mama,” she coos.
“Yes, Mommy is down there,” he says in his American accent to influence his daughter. He’s curious about what accent she’ll take when she learns to talk.
He turns and checks the time.
“It’s breakfast time, cupcake.” He heads toward the kitchen and notes Ivy’s journal on the couch. He places Rose on the carpeted floor and examines the cover. The weight of the memories between the covers makes the book seem heavier than what it is. Memories of a place he still dreams of, a place he longs for but not without the two loves of his life.
A suffocating weight tightens his chest.
He closes his eyes and takes a moment to reel in his thoughts. Pressing the journal to his chest, he then places it on the table. Yesterday showed glimpses of the old Samuel. Money held power, and he remembered it as he stepped into the car dealership with the salesperson almost falling at his feet after realizing the commission he would receive.
He hated the man he was.
Hated his life of wealth and fake people.
