Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Greed

Nick saw some movement in the darkness of the woods behind the house, his investigative nature taking over, his heart rate increasing. “He needs some time,” Nick said. “He’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“Sure,” Walt said.

“How about Julio?”

“Marco is adopting him,” Walt said. “Apparently Garza really loves that kid and insists Marco take him. Especially since Garza will never see the outside of a prison again.” Walt stopped for a moment and added, “How are you doing?”

Nick squinted as a neighbor’s dog came trotting out of the woods wagging his tail. He took a deep breath and said, “I could use a break too.”

There was a long pause.

“Walt?”

“Well, there is something else brewing,” Walt said.

“Yeah?”

Walt hesitated. After a few seconds, he said, “Forget it. I need you guys rested up.”

But Nick already knew they would be talking about this again. After a couple of weeks at home, Nick and Matt would be climbing the walls, and by the silence on the other end of the line, Walt seemed to know it too.

“Hey,” Walt said. “You need to get back to your family. Tell Julie I said hi. We’ll finish this conversation some other time.”

Nick shut his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the problem,” he said. “We will never finish this conversation.”

Susan Walker had watched the two boys acting casual as they passed the orphanage for the third time. Nairobi was a hard enough place to raise HIV babies, but when scavengers were casing her garden, Sarah went into protective mode. Her shack was made from cardboard and mud with a sheet of corrugated tin acting as a roof, but it was home to over fifty abandoned children who needed her support.

On the side of the orphanage was a garden surrounded by a plastic sheet to keep the rodents and thieves out. There was spinach and spring onions among others, but her prized possessions were the sweet potatoes which were just about to be harvested.

One of the boys was checking out for onlookers, while the other came up closer to the garden. They didn’t notice Susan on her knees, tilling the dirt with a hand trowel. She took her largest sweet potato and came to her feet.

The boy heading toward the garden froze.

Susan held out the sweet potato and nodded. The boy looked back at his friend who gave him a look of approval.

As the boy approached Susan, she handed him the prime catch and said, “I see you rummaging through my garbage at night. I don’t have much, but next time, come to me and I’ll help as best I can. Okay?”

The boy looked astonished to hear such an offer. He snatched the potato from her outstretched hand and walked backwards, as if Susan might turn on him. After a few steps, the boys ran silently on their bare feet down the dirt path like jewel thieves being chased by the law.

Susan sighed. She had so many needs, but the slums of Nairobi had no middle class. The adults in the area knew of her quandary and tried to protect the orphanage from scavengers, but the young kids with their hungry stomachs only knew survival and hadn’t yet discovered the etiquette of the slums.

“Susan,” a female voice called from the shack’s front doorway. “Your formula has arrived.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Susan said, brushing off the dirt from her knees and heading inside.

The front room held the older children who watched out for straying toddlers who might wander into the street. Susan patted one of her ten-year-olds on the head as she passed and went through the nursery where several of the nine infants were at different stages of crying from their basinets. Susan could tell by the tone this was their hungry cry, and although her order of formula was three days late, she was grateful to see the box sitting on the floor in her office.

The room was no more than a closet where she would sit on an upside down bucket and scribble her letters to different organizations for funding which would never come. But Susan was the ultimate optimist. She had to be, because no one else was.

She tore open the box from America and as she ripped apart the inner packaging, she stopped. Inside the box was a briefcase. Susan’s heart dropped as she realized this wasn’t the formula for her babies. She tried to contain herself as the infants next to her sobbed. She immediately considered where she could scrounge up enough milk to make a diluted version of lunch.

Susan snapped apart the latches and opened the briefcase. She pressed a hand to her mouth and shrieked. Inside the briefcase were stacks of hundred dollar bills. Too many stacks. She touched one of the piles with trembling fingers. It looked real. She tried to imagine the amount and quickly realized it must’ve been millions.

Just then an eighteen-month-old girl with chocolate brown skin staggered up to Susan wearing nothing but a diaper. Susan scooped her up and dropped the girl on her knee.

“Hey there, Tasha,” Susan said, following the toddler’s eyes to the briefcase.

“Yes,” Susan said. “It’s a gift from God.”

Tasha lifted an envelope from the mound of money and shook it.

“What’s this?” Susan asked, taking a pack of bills and handing it to the girl in trade for the envelope. The girl seemed agreeable to the exchange.

Susan opened the envelope and read the note inside:

HUG A BABY FOR ME.

LOVE, TOMMY

Susan’s eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t even dream of what this meant for her children. Susan coddled Tasha in her arms. “Baby, I think we’re going to get you some shoes today.”