Who You Say I Am (A Jai Courtney Fanfic)

Chapter 1-Meg

"I am Megan Wright.  I can do this.  Just step out of the plane and keep your head up.  You've just got to get through the day," I mumble my pep talk to myself as I stuff my thin down winter coat into my carry on bag.  I pocket my phone and I follow the rest of my small group of missionaries I'm aquatinted with from our inner-city sister church out of the exit on our airplane.  I've never traveled on such a tiny plane before. 
I step to the exit and I'm surprised by the sunlight and heat that hits me since our changeover was inside the main airport. I've never been to Jamaica before today or anywhere truly tropical for that matter.  It's beautiful, warm, and incredibly humid.  This is my first airport where we're let off the plane outside of a building.  I step down the staircase to the flat pavement.  I see a few other planes in the distance.  One is taking off, another just landing nearby.  The latter looks incredibly fancy, not like the scary little plane behind me. 
"Sister Wright?" someone calls out to me.  I remember being told that everyone refers to each other as brother or sister here, like in the Catholic Church.  It's actually really nice. 
"Yes?" I reply. 
"Try to keep up, sister. We don't want to lose you on the first day," I'm told in a strong, worried accent.  I nod and smile.  I love accents.  It's so nice to hear such a beautiful voice.  I pay attention to the two men tossing out our luggage from the storage compartment underneath the plane—one grabs them while the other piles them up out of the way.  Most of them are out and I see the others grabbing their bags.  I wait patiently for them to finish. Mine come out last and I'm handed them from a friendly young man with the most beautiful chocolate skin I've ever seen and the brightest smile. 
"Thank you," I smile back taking my bags from him.  The atmosphere is almost infectious and I'm so incredibly grateful that I came.
He smiles again in return.  I really am already feeling so much better.  I know there was a big snowstorm predicted back home for today and I'm so blessed not to be there right now.  I hurry to catch up to my group on foot.  I see a small staircase pulled down from the fancy looking plane that just arrived out of the corner of my eye.  Our group is loading up onto a small bus, I think... I'm not entirely sure what it is.  It's different than any other vehicle I've ever been in. I hand my bags to a middle-aged gentleman who loads it in the underside compartment of our vehicle and wait in line to get on.  The transportation appears incredibly crowded.  I can hear people saying small up yuhself which translates to make room.
I hear another unusual accent being spoken behind me—not from this region at all—and I glance over my shoulder.  My breath catches in surprise.  The ritzy plane just let off a celebrity, a very handsome celebrity who I've seen before but never in person.  He glances my way and stops mid-step. 
"Sister Wright, is it?" I'm asked drawing my attention back to the woman before me. 
"Yes, ma'am," I say reaching out. 
"I'm Sister Ini," she introduces herself. 
"It's nice to meet you," I tell her attempting to shake her hand but she hugs me instead.  I smile and laugh so glad to have such a welcomed greeting. 
"We're so happy to have you joining us here," she says to me.  "Small up yuhself," she tells the group in the transport as I'm led inside.
I grin and nod climbing on, making my way through the narrow walkway that is definitely some sort of bus. Before I'm even seated, I feel the lurch of the vehicle taking off.  I hold onto the ceiling and a railing since it's so crowded and grasp on tightly as we go over the bumpy road. 
I glance out the window between people to see him still watching us leaving.  He's heading for a limousine. I sigh in relief that he's probably going to one of the resorts, meanwhile, we are headed for the locals' cities.  We'll be visiting a church and assisting with activities. I know our hotel is in a local's city near the beach—not a resort—and that we'll be visiting an area in the mountains as well. I'm actually not too sure about the itinerary for the trip since I was a last minute addition.
I look around the cramped quarters of acquaintances from our sister church. I only know a few of them since I've filled in from time to time in the nursery when they've needed assistance. I helped out with worship once for a couple weeks when their leader had laryngitis. I recognize their faces from church pictures online but I wouldn't say I know them—not even their names. I'm a member of our suburban church since it's so near to our family home. Mrs Johnson was supposed to accompany me—a close friend of my parents' who I've known all of my life—but she just came down with the flu yesterday and had to stay behind. The church was hoping for a full group but we're still short one person.
The bus swerves around and I grasp onto the rail more firmly pushing myself toward the ceiling with my other hand. I'm holding on for dear life so I don't fall on the crowd of seated individuals or the standing ones in front of me. I glance over my shoulder to see the path looks smoother ahead on the road. I turn around so I can watch as we drive through the heavily wooded forest with what appears to be gravel roads, leading to dirt roads. I'm grateful it hasn't rained today or I would dread the possibility of this vehicle getting stuck in the mud. We continue on and I observe the gorgeous tropical landscape as we drive to our intended destination.
We trek through winding roads near the coast at first, then move onto a small farm-like setting. I see a man walking in the street with a goat—a rope tied around the animals neck. It reminds me of how someone would walk a dog back home. I smile at the difference and similarity. We move through a somewhat more urban setting where homes look like small tin shacks in the mountains. The metal construction has a grooved texture on the surface and many of them appear quite rusty. Further on is a flatter area with a larger settlement. The roads are paved and homes look to be better constructed even though many of them are quite small. They appear to be made of concrete or stucco possibly but I'm unsure.  We travel on and I'm able to view a bit more traffic.  I'm still not used to seeing everyone driving on the wrong side of the road. 
The bus pulls up in front of what I assume is our hotel. It looks to be on one level.  I'm surprised that we're here already.  I was expecting a long trip—although the initial flight was seven hours from Detroit to Miami, then to a main airport in Jamaica.  After that we flew from there to this little obscure one which took a little less than an hour.  I can't recall how long we waited before then but we left after breakfast and ate lunch during the layover.  We should be arriving close to dinnertime.  From the chatter of the group it sounds like they're all hungry and tired.  I'm just tired.  I haven't had much of an appetite in days.
Pastor Ben rises and stands grabbing everyone's attention. "We'll be getting off the bus in a moment," he explains. "You will each be given a key to your room. You may take a little time to yourselves if you want. The church has prepared dinner for us all so meet back in the dining hall within thirty minutes. Please don't wander far. We will go over a few rules and suggestions after dinner. As you step out, grab your bags, and tell Sister Ini your name. She will give you your keys and room number. There's one empty room already paid for if you find anyone willing to help," he laughs saying the last part.
I watch as Pastor Ben steps down the steps exiting. I follow. Sister Ini remembers my name. She hands me my key and room number. My bags are already out of the storage compartment beneath the bus lined up along the curb. I thank the sister for everything and grab my bags.
"Oh, Megan!" I hear Pastor Ben call out for me.
"Yes, sir?" I question turning around.
"Your mother has texted me probably ten times asking about you. Your father has, too. You may want to give them a call," he suggests.
"Oh, okay. Thank you," I nod.
He gives me a sad sort of smile and it makes my heart hurt. He knows. I face the other way and pull my luggage along toward the building.
I enter inside to see it has a tiny desk. There's a man sitting down listening to some lively reggae music.
"Hello," I tell him trying to grin even though I feel like I may break down into tears at any moment.
"Good evening, Miss," he says. "We're happy to have you here."
"Thank you," I smile a little at his kind words. "I'm so happy to be here, too. Thank you for the warm welcome."
"Always a pleasure, Miss. Always a pleasure," he smiles sincerely.
I wave to him and follow the signs to my room. I realize I'm at the end of the hallway. I walk down to the very last door. I see a few others enter the hall, too, but they appear to be at the far end of the building. I stick my key into the deadbolt and unlock the door. I open the door and step inside pulling my bags with me. I set them down and survey the small, private space I've been given. There's a twin bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a chair. I walk in further to see a small nook with a private bathroom. It has a toilet, a shower, a sink, and a mirror. I'm actually surprised. I thought there would be a shared bathroom. I must've misunderstood. I was in a daze when everything was explained before leaving. I turn on the the faucet and flush my face with water, drying off on a provided towel. I step back into the bedroom and sit on my bed. I turn my phone back on and see so many messages. I try not to look at them. I switch to my contacts to dial up my mother. I select her and it doesn't even ring once.

"Hello? Meg is that you?"

"Yeah, Mom. It's me. I just stepped into my room."

"How was the flight? Are you feeling okay?"

"The flight was fine. I'm good."

"I'm glad you arrived safely. I was a little worried. How's the weather there?"

"It's beautiful, very warm."

"The storm had just started here when you left. Too bad it didn't snow this much for Christmas but it's lovely outside here, too. It's just a different kind of pretty."

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you're doing alright, sweetie? If you're not feeling like being there, you could always come home."

"No, I'm good. The people here are so friendly. I like it. It's definitely helping."

"I'm so glad. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, dinner should be ready any minute now so I should probably get going."

"Alright. Make sure to check in with us at least once a day or we'll worry, okay?"

"Okay, Mom. I can do that."

"Alright. Talk to you soon and take care."

"You, too. Goodbye, Mom."

"Goodbye, Angel."

I hear the dial tone and I sigh shakily. I glance up to see that there's a window along the wall. We're up on a small mountain or hill and I can see the village below and the ocean. They gave me the best room. I can't hold back any more and I break out in tears.