Following the Bodleian luncheon, Adam dropped Peter off at the company and silently accepted the chairman’s hoarse thanks. Adam remained deep within the adrenaline rush of a successful role. He drove back to the village where Honor greeted him with a hug, led him into Peter’s office, delivered a tray of sandwiches and tea, and shut the door as she departed.
Adam pushed wearily through Derek Steen’s downloaded files. By dinnertime he was certain they contained no direct reference to MVP’s attack on Peter’s company. Even so, the term Serengeti was everywhere, referred to in terse bullets that included such words as crush, brutalize, bury. Adam checked corporate listings in Europe and the United States, but could come up with nothing that used the Tanzanian name. The search kept him up until well after midnight. He would have stayed at it longer, but exhaustion swept him away. Adam barely made it up the stairs and into the guestroom bed.
He came grudgingly awake at a knock on his door. Honor stood in the alcove doorway, a steaming mug in her hand. “I let you sleep as long as I could.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost ten.” She entered the room and set the mug down on the side table. “Peter was hoping to speak with you before he meets with the executive committee this afternoon. And Professor Beachley phoned. She asked if you would stop by this morning. She made it sound quite urgent.” Honor took a slip of paper from her pocket. “And Kayla asked me to give you this.”
She handed him the note, then retreated to the doorway. “Adam, I hope you someday understand what your assistance has meant to Peter.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Yes. He is that.” Honor smiled. “Well, I’d best let you get dressed. Your breakfast is waiting.”
Adam waited until the door closed behind her to unfold the slip of paper. Kayla’s note read, I went to church this morning. I prayed. For me. For you. For us. Love, K.
The church door squeaked loudly as he let himself in. The sound echoed through the empty chamber. On the altar table, a single candle gleamed inside a lead crystal vase. Adam walked to the front pew and seated himself. In front of him was a waist-high frieze of intricately carved wood. Beyond it, a pair of stone steps rose to the altar and the table with its linen tablecloth. The cloth was embroidered with a crown of thorns surrounding a gold chalice.
He had spent a lifetime running from this place. It all came down to that. He had a million reasons to walk away. He caught a fragrance of incense as he slipped off the pew and came to rest upon the cold stone floor. He shut his eyes with the certainty he could not find his way alone.
That morning Kayla drove her father to the office. He had apparently rested well, for his voice was stronger and his features not so stained with exhaustion. Kayla allowed her father to escort her through his outer office as he would an honored guest. Mrs. Drummond served them coffee in the gold-rimmed china instead of the normal mugs. When they were alone, Peter said, “Honor told me of your desire to return the money. I won’t hear of it. I don’t wish to argue with you. So I’m asking that you set this notion aside.”
She had a dozen reasons all lined up, ready to fire. But she did not have the heart to add to his strain. “All right, Daddy.”
“Are we done with that?”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Have you heard anything about yesterday’s meeting?”
“Their response should be coming through later today.” Peter coughed. “Adam was magnificent.”
“So you told us last night. I wish I could have seen him.”
“If we succeed in holding on to these investors, it will all be due to him.”
“No, Daddy, I’m sorry. But that’s not correct. He followed your lead.”
His smile lacked the shadow she had been seeing since her return. “You’re sure about that, are you?”
“Absolutely.”
He hesitated, then asked, “You’re still determined to return to Africa as planned?”
“I must.” Suddenly the air carried a razorlike edge. “My ticket is booked. Tomorrow is your birthday. I leave the next morning.”
She was terrified at what he might say. The slightest comment, the softest argument, and she knew her control would shatter. All the tears she had held back would come pouring out. And for a reason she would never have expected to find in this brief journey home.
But when Peter spoke, it was to say, “These past few days I have witnessed miracles with my own two eyes. Astounding events, joyful moments. The impossible made real. A young man who has been fired from my firm does everything within his power to keep this same company alive. My daughter joins me in our beloved church for the first time since her mother’s funeral. And suddenly I find myself daring to voice a word I thought was lost to me.”
Kayla waited until she was back in her little alcove before she whispered the word for herself. But saying it softly was not enough. She took out a clean sheet of paper. She wrote down the word. She pinned it to the bulletin board. She sat there for quite some time, studying the word as she would a timeless mystery. Hope.