November 23, 1978, Victoria Inn, Nairobi, Kenya
Half of the long table sat in a pool of sunshine, the other half under the dappled shade of strangle fig trees. The rain had held off for most of the day, allowing for a cool, almost dry breeze.
John sat at the head of the table. This was the first day he had been able to walk without the use of a cane, although he still limped and could not stand for long. As he looked at the crowd, he saw the faces of friends and strangers he had never imagined would be assembled together in Nairobi, certainly not at Thanksgiving, and he took a moment to bask in thankfulness for all they had survived.
Nearly everyone he cared about was there, including the one person he had been longing to see for the past four months. Geneva sat halfway down the table beside her husband, looking radiant and beautiful. He studied her discretely, waiting for his heart to tell him what he needed to know, if it would ever be free of her. As she lifted her eyes to meet his, she somehow did not look like the Geneva he had so desperately loved last summer in that time of windswept delirium. That Geneva had been so full of sunlight that she had seemed almost transparent, nothing but glittering edges, sharp and diamond-like, and the image had blinded him, had made him dizzy with the desire of possibility. In that splendid transparency he had felt that he could layer in all of his dreams.
This Geneva was more substantial, softer, and obviously happier. He had wanted to fill in the transparencies, to make her whole. Now she was whole, and that meant she was now both more and less than sunlight. He could see something he had not seen there before: a woman’s beating heart, flesh and bone, and he suddenly realized he had been chasing a dream, a fiction. He had wanted her not for who she was, but for what she was not: he had wanted her restlessness, her incompleteness so that he could rewrite her to fulfill his fantasies. He had wanted someone to save, someone with whom he could script a heroic ending. And he had been a fool.
He almost chuckled as he realized that he had wanted to be her champion, but she had done the rescuing. She and her family had flown here just to help find them; they had hired mercenaries who had come to the mission and saved everyone there from certain death. He could not pretend to play the hero any longer.
Next to Geneva sat Sally Beth, bouncing Geneva’s baby on her lap, laughing at something Lilly, to her right, had said. Although his heart felt leaden with guilt at how he had hurt her, he could not help but smile—laughter danced in his heart every time he caught sight of her. Sally Beth was fun and funny, and she was able to make him delight in the most ordinary of things. If only he could love her in the way she had wanted him to, his life would be simple and serene, uncomplicated. He had tried, but Sally Beth’s safe, steadfast, faithful love was not what he needed. She was the opposite of the adventure and challenge that he craved in a woman. He lowered his eyes in sadness, hoping she would someday forgive him for what he had not been able to do or be.
Beside Lilly sat Howard Graves, of all people. Why he had come was beyond him; it seemed that he had somehow been involved with the mercenaries and had been instrumental in getting everyone here.
John’s life had changed in ways that he never would have asked for, but he was grateful for most of the changes. His heart full, he slowly struggled to his feet. “My dear friends,” he said, looking at the crowd of people and knowing they were truly his friends. “This is the most thankful Thanksgiving I have ever had. If it weren’t for the absence of Pastor Umbatu, it would be perfect. To have you all here, to be surrounded by so much love and support… well, I can’t thank you enough.” Feeling his throat close, he took a deep breath before lowering his head. “Father, we are truly thankful for all the blessings you have showered down on us, for friends, for love, for hope, for healing, for salvation. Now we ask that you keep Pastor Umbatu safe and that you return him to us soon.”
Then he lifted a glass. “To friends,” he said, “and family, and to the Lord God who looks after us, who saves us from our enemies.”
Everyone raised their glasses, echoing his words. Alethia’s girls giggled. They thought John was the handsomest man they had ever seen, even though he was white. He wasn’t fish-belly white, though, like most of the Americans at the table, but golden, like the sun on the dry grass of August. What made them love him most was the fact that he had saved them all from the Ugandans who had destroyed their home, had brought them to Kenya, and was building a new home for them high in the mountains, far away from Idi Amin.
Sally Beth thought he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, too, but, unlike the six little girls, she tried not to look at the green-eyed, sun-bronzed Adonis who stood at the head of the table. He would never return the love she bore for him, so rather than let herself gaze at him with longing, she turned to Lyla sitting across from her at the table.
“Don’t you worry,” she soothed. “They’ll find him.” Sally Beth was certain of it. More than three weeks had passed since Pastor Umbatu’s kidnapping, but still, she believed he was alive, and that he would be back one day soon.
“Yes,” spoke up Red. “I know it, too.” He raised his glass. “To Pastor Umbatu, a real hero. May he come home soon. If it hadn’t been for him, some of us wouldn’t be here today. I’ll never forget. We were all cowering in our hiding places while soldiers were tearing apart the sanctuary. He stepped out, and just as coolly and kindly as could be, said, ‘Gentlemen, may I help you in the sweet name of Jesus?’ He was so gracious the soldiers didn’t know what to do. He had to be the one to suggest they take him and hold him for ransom. They quit looking after that, or they would have found us.” He paused while everyone lifted their glasses, thinking of Pastor Umbatu and murmuring his name.
Lyla smiled as she said, “My husband, the hero. He has always been a hero to me.”
Red had not finished. Smiling at Geneva and her husband, he lifted his glass again. “And to Howard and Geneva Knight, and Howard Graves, too, you good folks from America who worked so tirelessly to help us. The men you sent to look for us came just a few minutes after the soldiers left. I don’t know what would have happened, how we would have gotten out of there if it hadn’t been for them. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” came the voices from around the table.
Alethia stood. “And here’s to John, who risked his life to bring my children to safety, and to Lyla, who sheltered them, and to Sally Beth, who mothered them when I was not there.”
John wanted to toast Sally Beth, too, and when he tried to formulate in his mind the words he would say to let her know how grateful he was to her, the long list gave him pause. She had saved his life more than once, she had been courageous in the face of danger and death; she had nursed him during his long delirium on the island; she had given him her own blood; she had loved him when he didn’t deserve to be loved. It made him grieve to think that this exquisite woman had wasted her love on him, that he had turned his back on something so beautiful and sweet as the heart of Sally Beth. But what could he do? He could not make himself love. All he could do was try to find a moment to raise a glass to her in thankfulness and in acknowledgement for all she was. He sat, mute and miserable, feeling the sting of his ingratitude.
He hesitated too long. Sally Beth had jumped up. “Here’s to Alethia, the best mother I know.”
Immediately Geneva jumped to her feet. “Here’s to Howard Graves, who is a true friend. He has been the one who managed all this, arranging for the rescue team, for getting us over here.”
John started to speak again, but Lilly’s laughter rang out before he drew breath. “Okay, okay, let’s face it, we’re all wonderful, so let’s just acknowledge that fact and get on with it—I’m starving. Here’s to wonderful us!”
“To wonderful us!” they all echoed with laughter, although more than a few were also wiping tears from their cheeks.
“Wait just a minute,” spoke up Phil. “You all can go ahead and start passing around the food, but I have something to announce that I’ve been sitting on for two days now so I could make it a part of this celebration, and I can’t wait another second or I’ll explode.” He grinned at Lilly, who grinned back. Reaching under the table to bring out a copy of The New York Times, he opened it to the front page of the world news section and held it up for all to see. Lilly let out a squeal, and the others realized what it was.
A picture of Alice Auma, dressed in army fatigues, and looking very young and vulnerable, standing in a jeep on a jungle road, a shaft of sunlight bathing her fresh, innocent face was splayed across the front page. Underneath the photo was the headline: “Modern Joan of Arc Hears Spirit Voices, Leads Army Against Amin.”
“Look here, six inches on the first page of this section and more on page five. Story by Phillip Bayman and photographs by Lilly Lenoir!”
Lilly squealed again and so did Sally Beth. The others all cheered and applauded.
“Read it, Phil!” shouted Howard Graves.
“No, it’s too long,” he said modestly. “I’ll pass it around so you all can read it. There is another picture on page five. Lilly’s amazing.”
“Yes, she is,” said Howard Graves. Lilly blushed as Sally Beth caught her eye. Geneva grinned at her and started to say something, but Sally Beth knew that whatever she said would embarrass her sister, so she piped up.
“Have some of these sweet potatoes, Lyla. It’s my mother’s recipe, and I bet you’ve never had anything like them.”
Lyla made a wry face. “I love you, Sally Beth, but your sweet potatoes are too sweet for me.” She smiled a little. “But I do not complain at how sweet you are.”
Lilly broke in. “You ought to try living with her, Lyla. You might change your mind after you’ve been around all that sweetness for long. It’s enough to give a body diabetes.” She put her arm affectionately around Sally Beth’s shoulders and gave a squeeze. As Sally Beth hugged her back, she saw John looking at her, and she felt her own heart being squeezed.
After dinner, Geneva made her way to where John sat. “You look tired,” she said. “I hope today hasn’t been too hard on you.”
He shook his head, smiling, but his face was lined and sad. “Thank you for coming. It was kind of you. Generous.” He didn’t know what else to say; he suddenly felt overwhelmed and lost, unable to think of what he should do next. She sat beside him and gazed at him, her chin resting on her fist.
“What’s going on between you and Sally Beth?” Geneva asked him without preamble.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re avoiding each other, and both of you keep looking at the other one when you think nobody’s noticing. Something has happened. I keep thinking about that day Holy Miracle—the day he died—told us that she was the one for you, and I’m wondering if you’ve realized it. He called her ‘your happiness’.”
John looked up, surprised, realizing that she had heard it, too.
“So what transpired between you?”
He made a futile gesture. “We almost made love. Would have, but the Ugandans started shooting at us. She wanted to. I didn’t.” He glanced at her sheepishly. “I wasn’t over you. I let her know that she was playing second fiddle.”
Geneva winced. “You idiot.”
“I know.”
“Looks like you’ve made a career out of turning down Lenoir women.” It was his turn to wince. “And I thank you,” she laughed. “At least for turning me down. I had a few lessons to learn. Thank God I learned them in time. Anyway, what are you going to do now?”
He shrugged; his shoulders sagged. “I don’t think Holy Miracle got it right.”
“Well, now I know why I needed to be here. To keep you from continuing to be an idiot.”
He smiled at her sadly. “I’m not ready to love anybody just yet, Geneva. I need more time to heal, I think,” and with that, he rose unsteadily and limped back into the hotel, leaving Geneva feeling confused and saddened, wondering how hurt Sally Beth had been over all this. Hoisting Blue higher on her hip, she went in search of her cousin.
Geneva found her sitting at the window in her room, wrapped in the ragged cloak of her sorrow. Her face was white with grief. Not bothering to knock, Geneva went right in and put her arms around her sweet, uncomplicated Sally Beth.
“Something wrong between you and John?” she asked.
“There was nothing ever right between us.”
“I don’t think so. I think he’s just been through a lot, and deep down, I think he loves you. He just needs some time.”
Sally Beth shook her head. “I am not fit to be loved by anybody.”
Geneva sat up. “What on earth are you talking about? Sally Beth, you are the fittest person in the world! You are—you are the best. Ever!”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I’ve been selfish and manipulative and I’ve been mad at God, and now we aren’t even really on speaking terms, and I don’t know how to make it right unless I just forget about John.” She sniffled.
“You and God aren’t on speaking terms? You mean you’ve quit talking to Him?”
Sally Beth didn’t quite know how to respond. “Well, not exactly, but He doesn’t hear me anymore.”
“And what makes you think this?”
“Because I’m arguing.”
“Is it a sin to argue with God?”
She paused. “Well, no. I guess it’s more like I’ve resisted what He wants me to do.”
Geneva smiled as she put her arms around Sally Beth again. “Oh, honey, you are talking to the queen of manipulators, of selfish, of resisting what God wants. And a year ago, I was thinking pretty much the same thing you are right now, and you know what?”
Sally Beth looked at her tentatively. “What?”
“My favorite cousin in the whole world who is infinitely wiser and kinder and more godly than I am told me something that I’m going to throw right back at you now. We all are a mess. We screw up; we do awful things and expect God to give up on us, but that just makes Him pursue us harder. I remember plain as day you saying, ‘If God didn’t love anybody who wasn’t broken,’—and that means manipulative and selfish and resistant to His will—‘then He wouldn’t love anybody.’ Do you remember that, Sally Beth?”
Sally Beth paused. “Well, yes, but this is different.”
“Different how?”
“I knew better.”
Geneva tried not to snort. “Do you know of anybody who gave in to some sort of temptation who didn’t know better?”
Sally Beth stopped to think as Geneva pressed on. “Eve? King David? Abraham? How about Jonah? Peter? Sally Beth, I could go on all day if I knew my Bible better, but if you think about it, there isn’t anybody who passes that test!”
Sally Beth nearly smiled. “Well, there’s the Virgin Mary.”
Geneva couldn’t stop herself from hooting this time. “Oh, I see. You’re bucking for sainthood, is that it? You expect yourself to be that good!” She shook her finger in Sally Beth’s face. “Silly girl. There’s your sin. You think you are capable of being perfect. And it’s killing you because you aren’t. Close, but believe me, I couldn’t stand you if you were.” Geneva laughed and hugged her again.
Sally Beth hugged her back, letting loose the torrent of tears she had been holding back for weeks. She wept and laughed, nodding her head, sensing the rightness of what Geneva had said, but still wondering if it could be as easy as that. To just wait for God and quit trying so hard. She wasn’t sure. The faithlessness of her recent past still haunted her, and she felt she had some making up to do.
Suddenly, Lilly burst into the room, followed closely by Lyla. “Pastor Umbatu has been found!” she shrieked. “We just got a message from a church up in Bugala Island. He escaped from prison in Kampala and met up with the Holy Spirits army. He’s with them at their camp!” She gave a little hop. “Hot dog! Sally Beth, you’ve got to to get him, and I’m going with you. And Phil, too. What a story.”
“Me, too!” exclaimed Lyla. “You’re not going without me!”
“If I take all of you, there won’t be room for Pastor Umbatu to come back,” protested Sally Beth.”
Lilly waved that off. “That’s okay. Phil and I can stay a few days. You can come back and get us.” She turned toward the door. “Come on! I’ll grab a bag and meet you at the plane.”
Geneva watched as Sally Beth hesitated, glanced at her hopefully, then squared her shoulders and ran out of the room after Lilly.
The news had reached the others by the time Sally Beth made it out to the lawn. John was nowhere in sight, but she did not take the time to look for him. Lyla was already racing for the plane, and Lilly was flying out the door with her bag and cameras over her shoulder.
“Wait a minute!” shouted Phil. “Are you going now?”
“You betcha,” answered Lilly. “Come on.” As she turned to sprint down the hill, she bumped into Howard Graves, who had stepped up behind her.
“Hey!” he said, raking his fingers through his hair in exasperation and exclaimed, “Crazy woman! Am I going to have to follow you to the ends of the earth just to get to know you?”
Lilly’s smile turned incandescent. She paused for a dramatic moment, flickered her eyes at him, and said in mock demure tones, “Maaaaybe,” then took off. Howard did not hesitate before he ran after her.
John appeared. “What’s going on?”
Gordon answered, “Pastor Umbatu is with the Holy Spirits and Sally Beth is going to get him. Lyla, Lilly, and Phil are going, too.” He watched the group racing toward the planes. “It looks like Howard wants to go, too. Should I take him?”
“No,” spoke up Geneva. “John will.” She looked at John meaningfully.
“He really shouldn’t…” began Gordon.
“Yes, he should.” She wasn’t sure why it felt so urgent to her, but she knew without doubt that John must be there for Sally Beth. She put her fist on her hip, glaring at John, willing courage and strength into him. “Sally Beth is going to need you.”
“I don’t have a plane. It was shot up and is still being repaired.”
“Oh. Well, what is Sally Beth flying?”
“The old Super Cub. She’s been flying it since we got back. I haven’t been strong enough,” he admitted, realizing that he probably still wasn’t strong enough. “She’s been helping Gordon while I’ve been recuperating.”
Geneva looked at him intently. He looked tired and thin, and he probably was too sick to make the trip, but she couldn’t stand the thought of Sally Beth flying off into Uganda without him. Pushing aside her doubts, she turned to Gordon. “Give him the keys to your plane,” she demanded. “No,” she added, shaking her head as he started to protest. “John needs to be the one to go.”
John knew Geneva was right. Sally Beth had never flown by herself with more than one passenger, and if she had to land in the water, she might need him to help. The thought of her alone and vulnerable and responsible for so many people made him anxious, too. He shrugged as he held out his hand, feeling the weight of his responsibility to Sally Beth. Never mind that he was still weak and feeling all of his injuries. He had to man up. “I need your plane, buddy.”
Gordon reluctantly reached into his pocket. “Try not to bring her back full of bullet holes,” he pleaded as he placed the key in John’s open palm.
Sally Beth, Lyla, Lilly, and Phil had already climbed aboard the Super Cub. Howard Graves stood outside, holding the back door open, arguing with Lilly.
“I’ll be back when I’m back!” Lilly shouted at him. “Pastor Umbatu will need my seat, so I’ll have to stay until somebody can pick us up. Besides, you never know what may be going on up there, and I can’t miss this story.”
She slammed the door as Sally Beth fired up the engine, leaving Howard standing forlornly in the grass. After a second’s hesitation, Lilly leaned out the window. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “I’ll come back.” Then she leaned out farther, grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him toward her, kissing him long and hard. “Or you can come find me.”
Sally Beth and the Piper Cub were out of sight by the time John had hobbled to Gordon’s Skylane. As he pulled himself into the cockpit, Howard Graves materialized by him. “Can I come along?” he asked.
“There’s a war on. It won’t be a luxury trip.”
“Seems like those Lenoir women aren’t into luxury.” He grinned. “I’ve discovered I like that.”
“You don’t know the half of it, buddy. Come aboard,” John said as he began the preflight checklist.
The Skylane was a faster plane than the Super Cub, so John caught up with Sally Beth quickly. He had half a mind to pull alongside of her, but he was afraid that would rattle her, and she had enough responsibility already. He put on his headset and spoke softly into the radio. “Skylane 235 niner Juliet to Super Cub 18472. You copy?”
The radio crackled, and then Sally Beth’s sweet, soft voice came floating into his head. “Copy Skylane. No need for you to be here. Over.”
He chuckled. No one ever said, “Over,” but Sally Beth loved saying it. She had said it made her feel like an official pilot.
“Roger that. But I’d like to be around when you land that thing. You’re carrying more weight than you’re used to, and the engine isn’t as powerful. Keep the nose up. You roger that?”
“You forgot to say ‘Over.’”
“Roger. One more thing. Stay off the radio when we get close. Someone may be listening. Over.”
“Roger that. Over and out.”
Over and out. Sally Beth hoped that would shut him up. It was hard enough to concentrate, without the sound of his voice in her head, and she was carrying three precious lives. It was scarier than she thought it would be.
The Holy Spirits army had moved. Sally Beth peered down into the mangrove swamps, looking for any sign of the camp. She buzzed low once over the island, but then decided she should climb and look from higher up. If the Ugandans saw her obviously searching, she would give away the position of Alice and her company. Climbing higher, she saw that John had hung back, circling low over the lake, barely visible on the horizon. He was thinking the same thing and was waiting for her to find the Holy Spirits before he ventured in.
“Okay, everybody keep your eyes peeled. They’re probably expecting us, and they’ll have somebody in the open to signal us. Or look for campfires, for tents, anything.”
“There!” shouted Lilly. “Over there—on the east side—just where that peninsula starts to narrow.” She focused on the island and began snapping photographs.
Sally Beth saw it. Ten men stood at the narrow strip of land between the water and the forest. She realized she would have to make a water landing, something she had never done before. In her memory, there was only that terrifying moment when John had wrenched the controls away from her, diving down, and the sudden splash as the pontoons sliced the water and they all were flung into the windshield. “Is everybody buckled up?” She held her breath and ran though the procedure in her head.
John watched from a distance as Sally Beth pushed up into the clouds almost out of sight, and he waited until he was sure she had sighted the army. As soon as she began to descend, he circled back toward the island. If they had trouble, he wanted to make sure he was there. Sally Beth was a natural, and a quick learner, but she had landed a plane only a few times—the Super Cub only three times—and never in the water. He took a breath, watching the fragile vessel winging downward, and concentrated on what she should be doing, willing her to set the nose at the right angle, imagining how the water would rush up to meet her, how confusing the shimmer of the lake surface would be. He pushed his mind toward her, hoping to help her settle down smoothly, like a dragonfly on a flat, untroubled surface.
She gritted her teeth, drew a breath, and hearing her heart pounding above the roar of the engine, she muttered, “Lord, if you were ever with me, be with me now,” then narrowed her focus on the silvery surface of the lake. Beside her, Lyla murmured her own prayer, and from the back seat, Lilly yelled out, “Sweet Lord Jesus, keep this thing upright!”
“What was I thinking?” asked Phil, as the plane bobbed on the lake water and they all were taking a moment to still their pounding hearts. “When you all took off running, it never occurred to me that somebody other than you could fly. How many times have you landed this thing, anyway?” It had been obvious that Sally Beth was not an experienced pilot.
“This plane? A few times. But never in the water.”
“Oh, get over it, Phil,” scoffed Lilly. Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing. And look—there they are.” Some of their old friends in army fatigues, carrying guns, shields, and spears arrived at the shore just as John skimmed smoothly to a stop beside them. One of them called to them.
“Don’t leave the planes here. You can be seen. Move them around to that inlet where you can hide.” He waved toward the southern end of the island. Dutifully, Sally Beth and John fired up the engines again and steered the planes into a small cove tucked into a stand of mangroves.
Alice’s men met them with boats, which took them through shallow water for some distance, and when mangrove roots became so thick the boats could no longer move, they got out to fight their way through papyrus reeds growing in the marshy wetlands. Finally, soaked and caked with mud, they put their feet on solid earth, where they found Alice and Pastor Umbatu waiting. If they had resented their ragged, soggy journey, they forgot about it when they saw Lyla flying like a sprite over the last of the muddy banks to throw herself into the arms of her husband.