A Sheltering Heart

Coming into the main terminal, she headed for the Tube station, since their baggage was checked all the way through to Uganda and would be there when they arrived. Unlike the subway of New York, the station was shiny silver with the longest escalator she’d ever seen.

They boarded the Tube. The eclectic assortment of passengers showed little interest in the Americans boarding.

Joyce, Craig and Ned took a row of seats beside a sullen teenage boy dressed in black. Gwen chose to stand and Derek halted next to her, his big hand wrapping around the overhead bar just millimeters from her own.

The Tube shot forward. Gwen braced her feet apart to keep her balance. Outside the window the dimly lit walls of the tunnels whooshed by in a blur. Gwen turned her gaze away because she’d learned the last time she rode on the Tube that watching out the window made her motion sickness kick in.

Derek captured her gaze and smiled. “So is that true?”

“What?” Gwen tried not to let his nearness and the killer smile have an effect on her. She told herself it was the excitement of the trip that sent her pulse pounding.

“That you’re all work and no play?”

She lifted a corner of her mouth in a self-effacing smile. Now that she’d calmed down after Joyce’s announcement, she decided she’d rather be a hard worker than a flake. “I suppose.”

“What do you like to do for fun?” he asked, his green eyes alight with interest.

She shrugged. “Stuff.”

“Like what?”

She thought about the question for a moment. “I like to walk on the beach. I read. I bike. Normal stuff.”

“That’s good. Are you a road bike or mountain bike person?”

She thought of the shiny blue metallic bike that Claire and Nick had given her when she’d moved to Seattle. “I have a road bike. To be honest, I haven’t ridden in a long time. I tried to bike to work but it didn’t work out. You know Seattle. Too many hills.”

“Very true. What kind of books?”

“For fun?”

He nodded.

“I’m fascinated with historical fiction.”

“I’m an action-adventure reader myself.”

She laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

The Tube slowed. A voice over the loudspeaker announced their arrival at Paddington Station.

“This is us,” Gwen said.

Craig, Ned and Joyce rose from the bench and crowded toward the door. Gwen turned her back to Derek just as the car came to a jerking stop. The force of the train’s abrupt halt caused several people to stumble. Someone bumped into Gwen, knocking her off balance. Derek’s arm coiled around her, steadying her.

Her already parched mouth went impossibly drier at the contact. She gathered her bearings and stepped away from him with a slight shiver. “Thank you, again.”

He grinned and winked. “Anytime.”

The doors opened and they stepped out into the brisk evening air. The tree-lined streets bustled with activity. There were black cabs, double-decker red buses and cars going by with nobody in the driver’s seat.

The facades of the buildings retained their time-gone-by feel that made Gwen smile. She loved the grand feel of London and the history represented in the architecture. The arched doorways and colorful doors of the tall slim houses that were built together as if sharing the walls, called to her. Someday she’d like to live in London.

Their hostel was two blocks down on the right. The two-story yellow brick building sat in the middle of the block. An archway over a red door welcomed them. Arched windows with wrought iron balconies gave the building charm.

The proprietor, who introduced himself as Damon, greeted them warmly and showed them to their accommodations. They passed a room with comfy-looking couches that served as the common area, then up a narrow staircase with an ornately carved banister.

The wood floors of the hallway were covered with worn blue runners. Gwen was thankful they each had separate rooms with a single bathroom just down the hall.

The rooms weren’t fancy, but they were clean and functional with a single bed, scratched-up dresser and small closet with empty hangers. Gwen’s room shared a wall with Joyce’s while the men’s rooms were across the way.

Derek and the others were making plans for a late dinner. Gwen listened for a moment before stepping into her room and closing the door. Her plan was to relax and prepare for the rest of the journey; the long flight in the morning from the UK to Africa, then the drive from Entebbe Airport to the Moswani province.

To that end, she grabbed a few toiletries and stepped back into the hall which was thankfully empty. She wasn’t big on small talk.

Between the long flight and the eight-hour time difference, she felt ready to grab a bite to eat at the little pub next door and then sleep. Refreshed, she opened the bathroom door and found Derek leaning against the wall.

She blinked. “Uh, it’s all yours.”

“Is there any hot water left?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “I think so. I wasn’t in there that long.”

His mouth quirked. “I’m teasing.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know him well enough to recognize when he was teasing or not. “I hope you’re not too uncomfortable with the accommodations here.”

He waved off her concern. “I lived in a dorm in college.”

“Well, Joyce wasn’t kidding when she said this is luxurious compared to where we’ll be staying next.”

He lightly tweaked her braid. “Don’t worry about me. I’m adaptable.”

She stepped away from him. “That’s good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hey, wait,” he said. “We’re all going to dinner in an hour. You’re coming, too.”

She cocked her head, not liking the way he told her what she was doing. “I don’t think so.”

“You have to eat. And from what the others were telling me, this might be the last normal meal we’ll get until we’re back here.”

“I don’t want to stay out late.”

The excuse was lame. She had no real reason not to join them other than she just wasn’t good in casual settings. She didn’t do the chitchatty, surface deal that Joyce was so good at. She hadn’t learned the fine art of conversation. Living on the street, it wasn’t a priority—wondering where the next meal was coming from was. She gave another prayer of thanks for Claire and the teen shelter she’d created, which helped get her off the street.

“I promise I won’t keep you out long.” He stepped into the bathroom. “I’ll come get you in an hour.” With that he shut the door.

Gwen frowned. He was awfully pushy, but she couldn’t deny that eating alone as usual wasn’t appealing. Maybe it was time to step out of her comfort zone and try to have a casual dinner out with the team.

Her team.

She had to keep reminding herself that she was in charge and responsible for the success of the mission and the safety of the people. A heavy load, but one she willingly bore.

An hour later, there was a knock on the door to her room. Her heart leaped and she forced herself to stay calm. This wasn’t a date. She wouldn’t be alone with Derek. Still she smoothed a hand over the skirt she’d brought to wear to church in the village.

She opened the door expecting to see Derek and found only Craig and Joyce standing in the hall.

Disappointment spiraled through Gwen and she forced the silly emotion down. She had no business caring one way or another about Derek’s whereabouts.

Still the anxious flutter of nerves warned her that she wasn’t as unaffected by him as she wanted to be. Not good. Not good at all.

Gwen forced a smile and stepped into the hall. “Hi, guys. Where are the other two?”

“Ned and Derek went on ahead to secure a table,” Joyce explained as they headed down the stairs.

“Boy, I’m starved.” Craig held open the door for the ladies. Gwen smiled at him as she left the hostel, liking his gentlemanly manners.

Joyce had changed into a pair of linen pants and a bright pink tank top that showed off her creamy complexion. Her dark hair curled in appealing ringlets. Craig had shaved, his young face looking even more boyish. His jeans and polo shirt could have used an iron.

They walked two blocks to a quaint restaurant called Monica’s. The entryway boasted dark mahogany wood and antique furnishings. Waiters with white aprons hustled about. Tantalizing aromas hung in the air and Gwen’s stomach rumbled.

At a white linen-covered table near the back Derek waved them over. He looked good, with his freshly washed hair and clean-shaven face, though there was nothing boyish about Derek. His broad shoulders filled out his silk blue shirt. He looked solid and sturdy. The type who liked to be in control.

Gwen hung back slightly, unsure where to sit.

Derek stood and pulled out a chair for Joyce and then turned to her. “Here you go.” He pulled out the chair next to where he’d been sitting.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she sat. Awareness tingled over her arms. She shivered.

He folded himself back into his chair. “Cold?”

She shook her head and picked up the menu. Traditional British Cuisine the top read. “This is an interesting place. How did you find it?”

Derek picked up his own menu. “Damon suggested it.”

“Get a load of this food,” Craig commented.

The one-page menu didn’t offer a great deal of choice but each dish listed was described in captivating detail, complete with its particular historical background. Gwen put her menu down. She swallowed a lump of dread. Nothing on the menu was traditional for her.

“Ooo. Calf’s liver and beetroot. Yum,” Joyce said with a wince that indicated she thought the dish anything but appealing.

A young woman approached their table. Her short spiked hair was tipped blue and one earring dangled from her right earlobe. “Ready to order?” she asked, her accent making it clear she was a local.

Each member of the team ordered something different from the traditional menu.

Then it was Gwen’s turn. She could feel the attention on her. “Do you have just fish and chips?”

The waitress sighed. “Yes.”

“Oh, come on. Try the Arbroath Smokie with me,” Derek said, his green eyes steady on her. “It’s haddock, smoked over an open fire. You’d like it.”

She frowned at the description. “No, I wouldn’t.”

To the waitress, she stated firmly, “The fish and chips, please.”

Better to go with something she’d had before than risk ordering something that she couldn’t eat and wasting the food.

Once the girl left, the conversation flowed easily enough. First with mundane get-to-know-you type things. Education, home towns and hobbies. Gwen participated a little, giving short evasive answers that made her sound an awful lot like Ned. She almost giggled, but managed to rein her amusement in.

But the small talk was wearing.

Soon the conversation turned to politics and became more animated as they discussed state issues and abuse of natural resources in the Pacific Northwest. Their food arrived and the conversation died down as they all concentrated on their meals.

“Here, try this,” Derek said as he offered her a forkful of his haddock.

She wrinkled her nose. “No. Too fishy.” Using the excuse of the fish, she backed away from the intimacy of his offering her food from his plate.

“How can you say that without tasting it?”

“I can smell it.”

“Be adventurous. Just taste it.”

“I am adventurous. You stop being so pushy.” She glared at him, but found it hard to be mad when his green eyes sparkled with amusement as he ate the bite intended for her.

When they left the restaurant, Joyce said she wanted to see some sights. Craig and Ned said they’d go, as well.

“Count me in,” Derek said. “Gwen?”

She shook her head. “I need to sleep.”

“Thought you said you were adventurous?”

There was challenge in his tone and she chafed against the need to prove to him that she could be adventurous. “We all should rest for the trip.”

“We can rest on the plane,” Derek replied. “We won’t stay out too late. Come on. How often do you get to just play?”

She felt torn between what she thought she should do and what she really wanted to do. She wanted to go, to be a part of the group, and see London at night.

To play.

But wouldn’t the more responsible, practical course be to turn in?

Of course, this could be a perfect opportunity to talk to Derek about how the group provides healing in so many ways beyond just the physical. So much was riding on this mission. She wanted to make Doc Harper proud and fulfill his wishes. She wanted to be a good leader.

“All right. Let’s go.”

The group set out. Ned, Craig and Joyce led the way while Derek walked along with Gwen. She and Derek lagged slightly behind the others. She found herself relaxing and enjoying his lively humor as she took in the sights—the spectacular Tower Bridge spanning the Thames, the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben.

His stories of growing up on Bainbridge Island, where his parents still resided enthralled her. It sounded so Leave it to Beaver-ish. So far removed from her own experiences as a homeless teen.

“Someone in the office said you’re a world-class marathon runner.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had some success.”

She waited, expecting him to expound on his successes. He didn’t. She liked that. She forced herself to remember why she hadn’t returned to the hostel. “The place we are going in Africa is very far removed from the rest of the world. You hear so much about AIDS in Africa, but malaria cases are more rampant worldwide. For many, Hands of Healing is the only hope of medical care they have.”

“You don’t have to sell me on the importance of why we’re going,” he stated softly.

No, she supposed she didn’t. He was his father’s son after all, but then why did Dr. Harper feel it necessary to ask her to promise to try to make Derek see that the healing they brought went beyond the physical? Shouldn’t Derek already know that?

“Tell me more about you,” he said.

“Not much to tell. Born in Portland, Oregon. Went to med school at OSHU in Portland. Pretty boring really,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t push for more details.

She didn’t share the pain of her childhood with anyone, let alone a man who had a perfect upbringing with loving parents. He wouldn’t understand.

The group stopped in front of a large cathedral. The spire rose heavenward and was lit from within. The big stone structure made Gwen feel small and insignificant against the history and power of faith that the building represented.

“We should get back before we all turn into pumpkins,” Joyce announced on a yawn.

Everyone agreed and returned to the hostel. As late as it was, Gwen didn’t feel exhausted or tired. She could have stayed out all night and been fine. The time spent with Derek and the others had been unexpectedly fun.

In the hall to their rooms they said good-night. Craig and Ned disappeared inside their rooms. Joyce lingered a moment then she, too, went inside her room, leaving Gwen and Derek alone in the hall.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Derek teased.

She smiled. “It was nice to ‘play.’ Thanks for talking me into going with you guys.”

He shrugged. “‘All work and no play,’ as they say.”

Remembering Joyce’s earlier comment, Gwen impulsively asked, “Do you find me dull?”

His gaze touched her face and lingered on her lips. “Not all at. I find you fascinating.”

She swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat. “You do?”

He nodded.

Had he moved closer? Against logic, against her ingrained sense of self-preservation, she swayed slightly toward him as if some invisible force was pulling her forward. Her gaze took in his features, memorizing the angle of his nose, the planes of his cheekbones. The fullness of his lips.

He gave her a crooked grin as his head dipped. She steadied herself, waiting, wondering, and fought the need to run, to protect herself.

Her eyes closed and her hands fisted in an effort to stay put. The air felt heavy as he came closer. Her breath hitched as old fears and unwanted memories battered at her consciousness.

His lips gently pressed against her forehead.

Her eyelids jerked open as confusion and then disappointment rushed in, filling her lungs to bursting.

“Good night, Gwen. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said before he turned and went into his own room.

She blinked. She put her hand to her hot cheeks.

What just happened?

For a brief moment she’d wanted him to kiss her. And he had. Only not in the way she’d expected.

Dope! Where would a kiss have led anyway?

Nowhere that she intended to go. That was for sure.

Becoming involved with her boss’s son was not something she was going to let happen.

Period.

End of story.

She fled to the sanctuary of her little room, wondering why she felt so let down.

By him or herself?

Chapter Three

The next morning Gwen awoke groggy from too little deep sleep. She didn’t regret spending the time the night before with the others. The bonding could only be good for the team.

She tried to analyze her feelings for Derek. He confused her and intrigued her. He obviously was ambitious and driven, yet there was a wildness in him that kept her on edge.

She had to keep a tight grip on the magnetic pull he had on her. Yes, he was good-looking. But more than that, something about him called to a restlessness inside her that she refused to unleash.

Best to keep a strictly professional demeanor around him and not form any sort of attachment.

With that settled in her mind, she dressed in black, stretchy yoga pants and a bright pink, long, lace-edged tunic T-shirt, then packed up and went to join the group in the common room where they were munching on scrambled eggs and toast. She immediately noticed Derek’s absence.

“Where’s Derek?”

Craig, sitting on the couch drinking from a water bottle, shrugged. He’d shaved and his dark hair was pulled back into its customary ponytail. His cargo pants and rust-colored Henley shirt made him look as though he was ready to go skateboarding rather than head to Africa.

“Took a run. Now showering,” Ned replied before stuffing his mouth with a bite of toast. He wore Bermuda shorts and a solid orange, short-sleeved button-down shirt. The outfit suggested he was a vacationer ready to go sightseeing, not travel halfway around the globe to help those less fortunate than himself.

Joyce dipped a tea bag in hot water. Her apparel was much more understated—dark jeans and a striped T-shirt. Her dark curls were stuffed under her hat. She’d applied a touch of makeup to accentuate her classical bone structure and wide eyes. “I wish I’d known he was going for a run. I’d have joined him.”

An unfamiliar sensation slid down Gwen’s spine. She frowned and shook it off before pouring some hot water from a silver pot into a flowered china cup. Whatever developed between Joyce and Derek was none of her business. Her only concern was to make sure he understood the work and came away appreciating the importance of what they did.

“I hope he’s ready soon,” she said to no one in particular.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

Gwen’s whole being went on alert. She slowly pivoted and watched Derek come into the room wearing flat-front khaki shorts and a white, short-sleeved shirt hanging open over a print screen T-shirt of a basketball player making a jump shot. He exuded confidence and health. With his smooth square jaw and freshly blow-dried hair, he could easily be a model for some sports and fitness magazine.

Gwen forced her gaze from his long muscular legs to his eyes which glinted with a knowing amusement. As if he’d sensed her attraction before she had even become aware of it.

“Good,” she said in a decisive tone that hid the pounding of her heart—far from a “professional” reaction to the man.

Derek gave her a short nod as he moved past her to the table where the food had been set out. He put a piece of toast on a plate and then poured himself a cup of coffee.

Gwen drank her tea while the group chatted and finished up their breakfast. After paying for their stay they were off to Heathrow. Though Derek was considerate and charming, Gwen sensed a distance that hadn’t been there the night before. He didn’t tease her or flash his grin at all.

She should be thankful.

Really, she should.

As she settled into a seat in the waiting area at the gate, she wondered if she’d done something to offend him. She silenced a groan. Maybe she’d seemed too forward or willing to be kissed last night and that had repulsed him. Maybe he did find her dull even though he’d claimed the opposite.

She gave a sharp shake of her head as old echoes of worthlessness tried to rise. No. She was a strong independent woman who didn’t need validation from anyone, let alone a man she barely knew.

Over the years, guarding her heart and her space had become as natural as breathing.

If she stayed prepared and in control, she’d never have to be vulnerable again.

Derek leaned against a concrete pillar while the rest of the group sat in the stiff black chairs in the wide waiting area of the airline’s boarding gate. He didn’t see why they’d want to sit now when they’d be sitting for the next eight or so hours in the confining plane cabin.

He longed to get out and run off more of the relentless energy that buzzed through his system. The sprint from the morning had barely assuaged his need to move. He’d been keyed up ever since he’d almost kissed Gwen the night before.

Man, what had he been thinking?

At least he’d had the good sense to divert his mouth to the petal softness of her forehead and not touched the apricot-colored lips she’d offered. That would have been a huge mistake.

He acknowledged he was commitment-phobic. He’d certainly heard it from every female in his life, including his mother. He accepted he was a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. It worked for him.

Gwen was not a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of woman.

And if he did anything to hurt her, his father would skin him alive. Not what he was going for.

He had to stay focused. Life was an adventure that he fully intended to live.

Without the burden of a relationship.

He prayed, something he didn’t do often, that he’d find the will to keep from acting on the attraction sizzling between them.

Gwen decided not to spend any more time worrying about Derek and his mood. She’d had enough of that growing up, trying to determine when she was safe and when she should hide. She’d vowed never to be at the mercy of someone else again.

Their flight would be taking off soon. Once they reached their destination, she’d fulfill her promise to her mentor and focus her energy on making this mission a success. Though her definition of success wouldn’t match that of world opinion.

Success meant knowing she’d made a difference in the world, demonstrated God’s love in a real and tangible way.

“Hey, guys, let’s pray before we board,” she said to the group.

“Good idea.” Joyce stood. Craig and Ned followed suit. Gwen rose, took Joyce’s hand in her left hand and then waved Derek over with her right hand.

He pushed off the pillar and slowly made his way to join their circle. He frowned as his gaze took in their linked hands. “What’s this?”

Gwen pinned him with her gaze. “We’re going to say a prayer for a safe journey.”

“Can’t we each silently say our own prayer?”

Was Dr. Harper wrong about his son’s faith? He’d said Derek had accepted Christ as his Savior as a teen, but that didn’t necessarily make him a believer.

“‘For where two or three are gathered,’” Gwen quoted Matthew 18:20 softly, then narrowed her gaze. “What’s the problem?”

Derek glanced around. “I just don’t think we need to advertise.”