it at the same time as the hospital?”
Phew; she had to stop just blurting out what she was thinking, though he seemed to have the same problem. Good thing he changed the subject, or she just might have melted down into the mud.
“John Adams concentrated on getting the school open while I focused on the hospital. His daughter, Patience—I think you met her?—will be going to school next year, so he’s been pretty excited about the project. They live in a small apartment attached to the school, so she’ll probably be there today. She loves to hang out in the classrooms and pretend she can read and write.”
“Patience is a cutie. She and I bonded over ice-cream.” His eyes always turned such a warm blue when he talked about children; it filled her chest with some kind of feeling she didn’t want to analyze. “So, is John from here?”
“Just so you know, he’s always gone by both his first and last name. I’m not sure why.” She smiled. “John Adams’s parents both worked with my parents here. They left too when the war broke out. Their family and mine met up again in Togo and, since he’s just a few years older than I am, he’s kind of like a brother. And I love Patience like I would a niece.”
“Where’s her mother?”
“She died suddenly of meningitis. It was a terrible shock.” She sighed. “Moving here with me to open this place has been a fresh start for John Adams and Patience, and hugely helpful to me. I couldn’t have done it alone.”
“I’ve been wondering where your funding is coming from. The GPC’s been cutting back, so I know they can’t be floating cash for the whole hospital.”
“We’ve shaken down every possible donor, believe me. The school was as big a shambles as the hospital, and usually donor groups focus on one or the other. But we managed to get the building reasonably repaired and the basics in—desks and supplies and stuff. We opened with thirty primary-school-aged kids enrolled and have almost a hundred now.” She shook her head. “It’s not nearly enough, though, with half a million Liberian kids not attending school at all. And sixty percent of girls and women over fifteen can’t read or write.”
He frowned. “Is it as hard to raise cash for a school as it is for a hospital?”
“It’s all hard. But I’m working on getting a donation from a church group in the States that’ll help us hire a new teacher and have enough food for the kids’ lunches. I’m excited. It looks like it’s going to come through.” Charlie smiled at Trent, but his expression stayed uncharacteristically serious. “We hate turning families away, but can’t just endlessly accept kids into the program, you know? It’s not fair to the teachers or the students to have classrooms so big nobody gets the attention they need. So I’m sure hoping it works out.”
“How soon will you know?”
“In the next day or two, I think.”
His expression was oddly inscrutable. “Be sure to tell me if the donation comes through or not, okay?”
“Okay.” She had to wonder why he wanted to know, but appreciated his interest. “As for the hospital, I’m supposed to get a giant check from the Gilchrist Foundation as soon as the new wing is ready to go, thank heavens.”
He stopped dead and stared at her. “The Gilchrist Foundation?”
“Yes. You’ve heard of them?”
“Yeah. You could say that.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“HAS THE GILCHRIST Foundation donated to hospitals you’ve worked at before?” Charlotte asked. “Did they come through with their support? I’m a little worried, because we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel just to get the wing finished.”
Trent looked into her sweet, earnest face before turning his attention to the verdant landscape—not nearly as vivid and riveting as the color of her eyes. “They’re a reputable organization.”
“That’s good to hear.” She sounded slightly breathless, her footsteps squishing quickly in the mud, and he slowed his stride. He resisted the urge to grasp her arm to make sure she didn’t slip and fall. “I heard they were, but they’re making us jump through some hoops to get it.”
He almost asked what hoops?, but decided to keep out of it. The last thing he wanted was to get involved with anything to do with the Gilchrist Foundation. Or for Charlotte to find out his connection to it. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure. So, this is it.” He looked up at the one-storey cement building painted a golden yellow, the windows and door trimmed in a brick color. “Looks like you’ve done a nice job restoring it.”
“It took a lot of money and manpower. It was basically a shell, with nothing left inside. The windows were gone and there were bullet holes everywhere. John Adams and I are pretty proud of how it turned out.”
As they reached the wooden door of the school he saw Charlotte glance up at the sky, now filling with dark-gray clouds. “Looks like rain’s coming, and I wasn’t smart enough to bring an umbrella. Sorry. We won’t stay too long.”
“I’m not made of sugar, you know. I won’t melt,” he teased. Then the thought of sugar made him think of her sweet lips and the taste of her skin. It took a serious effort to turn away, not to pull her close to take a taste.
They left their muddy shoes outside before she led the way in. Children dressed in white shirts with navy-blue pants or skirts streamed from classrooms, laughing and chattering.
“Mr. Trent!” Cute little Patience ran across the room, the only one in a sleeveless dress instead of a uniform. “Mr. Trent, you bring me candy?”
“Sorry, Miss Impatience, I don’t have any left.” She wrapped her arms around his leg and the crestfallen expression on her face made him wish he’d brought a whole lot more. Too bad he hadn’t known he’d be here longer than a few days.
“How about gum?”
He laughed and swung her up into his arms. “Don’t have any of that left either.” He lowered his voice. “But, next time you’re at the hospital, I’ll sneak some pudding out of the pantry for you, okay?”
“I heard that.” Charlotte’s brows lifted. “Since when are you two best friends? Dr Trent just got here a few days ago.”
“Mr. Trent and me are good friends, yes.” The girl’s arms tightened around his neck, which felt nice. Kids didn’t want or expect anything from you but love. And maybe candy too, he thought with a smile. There weren’t too many adults he could say that about.
“Patience and I share a fondness for that chocolate pudding.”
“Hmm.” A mock frown creased Charlotte’s face as she leaned close to them. “I didn’t know you were stealing supplies, Dr Dalton. I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.”
“What’s the punishment for stealing?” His gaze dropped from her amused eyes to her pink lips. Maybe if he stole a kiss he’d find out.
“I don’t think you want to know.” Her eyes were still smiling and he found himself riveted by the glow of gold and brown flecks deep within that beautiful green.
“Miss Edwards!” Several kids ran their way. “You coming to see our play this Wednesday? Please come, Miss Edwards!”
Charlotte wrapped her arms around their shoulders in hugs, one after another, talking and smiling, making it obvious she wasn’t a distant director around here; that she put in a lot of face time, truly cared about these kids. That impressed the hell out of him. He’d seen a lot of hospital directors in his day, even some in mission hospitals, who were more focused on the bottom line and making donors happy than they were about helping the patients they existed for.
Trent set Patience back on her feet. “Have you been doing any more drawing? You know I like to see your art.” Nodding enthusiastically,