The Sunflower: A Novel by Richard Paul Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

waiting on the other side at Lake Huitoto. It’s another forty minutes by canoe to the Makisapa Lodge. We’ll be at the lodge for three days. Believe me, after all your hard work and travel you’ll be glad for the rest.”
    A young man raised his hand. “What do we do at the lodge?”
    “Favorite jungle activities include crocodile hunting, bird-watching, piranha fishing and some exploring—but only as a group. It is the jungle and there are jaguars and anacondas and a nasty assortment of vipers. In the jungle even the frogs and butterflies are poisonous.” He smiled again. “It’s a lot of fun.”
    Christine raised her hand. “Yes? Christine,” Jim said.
    “Are there spiders?”
    “Yep. Big ones. Big enough to catch birds.”
    A groan went up in the room.
    Christine nudged Jessica. Jessica just grinned.
    “But I wouldn’t worry about them. Like most things in the wild, if you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone.” He smiled again. “Unless they’re hungry.”
    Another groan.
    “Any more questions?”
    A new hand went up. “What’s the weather like?”
    “Good question. Peru is south of the equator, so we’ll be there during their summer. Dress accordingly. However, it’s also their rainy season, so bring a poncho or rain jacket. And we’ll be pretty high up in the Andes so you’ll want to bring a sweatshirt or light jacket.”
    “With all that extra bag space,” Christine said.
    “Any more questions?”
    No one spoke so Jim said, “Okay, I have a little Power-Point presentation I put together. I want to show you why we do this. Could someone get the lights?”
    He switched on his projector as the lights dimmed. The presentation was a five-minute slide show of previous excursions: There were groups of Americans working side by side with Peruvians building greenhouses and latrines, digging trenches for water lines and painting classrooms. There were pictures of Quechuan natives in their bright, dyed shawls and black top hats, standing in the Andes snow, wearing sandals made from tire treads.
    Everyone laughed at a slide of a little boy showing off his new eyeglasses, beaming as proudly as if he’d just won a gold medal.
    Another slide showed a group of American women bathing babies. Then there were several slides of small children sleeping in doorways or begging, their eyes dark and expressionless. The presentation was set to music and the emotional effect was potent. When the lights came up, most of those in the room were wiping back tears. Jessica handed Christine a Kleenex.
    Jim walked to the front of the room. “That’s what it’s all about. The chance to find yourself by losing yourself in service to others. I look forward to seeing you all in a couple weeks. You have my number. If you have any questions, please call. Otherwise, I’ll see you, on time, at the airport.”
    As the group rose to leave, Christine, still sniffing, said, “I’ll go.”
    Jessica looked at her. “What?”
    I said, “I’ll go.”
    Jessica smiled. “You’ll never regret it.”
    As the room emptied, Jessica stopped to talk to Jim. “It worked,” she said, “Christine was blubbering like a baby.”
    He smiled triumphantly. “The slide show gets them every time.”

Chapter
Seven
    It is always winter somewhere…
    PAUL COOK’S DIARY

    “I’m so glad we’re getting out of winter,” Jessica said. With the Jeep’s heater blasting on full it was hard to believe that somewhere in the world it was summer. “Girl, we’re coming back with tans.”
    “Yeah, that’s good,” Christine said softly.
    Jessica frowned and turned away. Christine had grown quiet for most of the drive. Jessica guessed that she was regretting her decision. But Christine had grown melancholy for other reasons. She still hadn’t heard from Martin and she doubted that he even knew or cared that she was going.
    Jessica parked in the airport’s long-term parking lot; the two women gathered their carry-on luggage and shuttled