The camp was in disarray. Bundles and crates had been piled onto carts. People milled about, cooking on small fires or packing up the last of their belongings. Alice stood in front of one of the few tents still standing, surrounded by several men who bore rifles and spears, their kind, but watchful faces glowing darkly. She held her hand up when the group appeared at the edge of the camp.
“All of you wait here. The Lakwena wishes to speak to Sally Beth,” she said, giving Sally Beth a meaningful look, then she turned and strode into the tent. Sally Beth followed her inside to find her settling into a chair that dwarfed her small frame. Alice gazed forward, unspeaking, before she sat up, stretching her neck, giving Sally Beth a long, appraising look.
“My friend, the Lakwena sees something in you that he cannot decipher, something bigger and stronger than even he is,” she said in her light, girlish voice. “Although I had feared your sin had caused us to suffer loss in battle, he tells me otherwise.”
Alice stopped suddenly and her eyes went blank, as if dead: the pupils shrank to mere pinpricks. Her young face hardened. “Prayer Warrior, who has the ear of Almighty God, you are timely come,” came the low, guttural voice of the Lakwena. “I call upon you to preserve the life of my servant Alice and her army, for I can protect them no longer. The enemy has learned the secret of this place, and they are at the door. You must pray for my servants, for they will suffer great defeat in the days to come.”
Alice took a breath, the life came back into her eyes, and she said simply in her soft, Alice voice, “Did the Lakwena tell you I must be on my way?”
“Yes, and I am to pray for you,” replied Sally Beth, biting her lip and wondering how helpful her prayers could be. How could she preserve the life of Alice and a whole army?
“Good. The Lakwena has told me that your soul is pungent with the Spirit; your prayers are like incense.” Alice rose, going out of the tent as she called to her soldiers. Sally Beth did not have the heart to tell her that the Lakwena was mistaken, but she felt a small flutter of life in her spirit, and she took hope.
Lilly broke into her thoughts as they strolled through the camp, saying goodbye to the friends they had made during the days they had lived among them. “It’s tough, seeing them go, knowing things are probably over for them, for Alice. The day I went with them, I somehow felt like we were invincible. I guess those days are done now. They’ve lost the last three battles. Once Amin’s army figures out they aren’t bullet proof, the whole charade falls apart.” She looked up to see Howard Graves standing nearby, his eyes locked on her.
“You’d better go rescue Howard,” Sally Beth teased. “He looks as pitiful as Lamentations when Jimmy Lee’s been out of sight too long. And he sure doesn’t look like he belongs in this place. If he tries to go through the swamp without you, he’s likely to be eaten by something.” Lilly laughed and squeezed her hand as she slapped at a mosquito.
“He’ll at least be eaten by these mosquitoes. Shoot, we all will be if we don’t get out of here.” She looked at Howard with wistfulness before she added, “You’d think I’d develop a taste for the rugged type. They’re much handier at getting you through the jungle, but I can’t stop myself from looking at those pretty city boys.” She walked toward him, stepping lightly, and as Sally Beth watched Howard’s face, she felt a sweet hope for her baby sister pierce her heart.
Already, the army had completely broken camp. They had hauled boats to the edge of the island opposite the swamp and had loaded them, waiting for darkness before they attempted their escape. A sad aura of defeat hung about the place. Sally Beth watched them quietly moving about, until John appeared beside her. “We need to leave now,” he said gently. “The guide is waiting.” He nodded toward a soldier standing with Phil, Howard, Lilly, Lyla, and Pastor Umbatu.
“I know,” she said, reluctant to leave. “I’m sad for these people. They had such good intentions, and now, I see defeat in their faces. You didn’t see them the day they marched to battle, before their first loss. You’ve never seen anything like it. Such confidence and joy.” They turned toward the forest, leaving the camp and the defeated people behind them, walking side by side for a few paces before John finally cleared his throat and spoke.
“I owe you an apology, Sally Beth. For all the stupid things I’ve done.”
She was surprised. “You didn’t do anything stupid.”
“Oh, I think so.”
“You mean risking your life to go after me? Taking a couple of bullets? Keeping me from crashing into the lake? I wouldn’t call that stupid. I thought it was kind of sweet.”
“Sally Beth! Did you just make a joke about the danger I was in? I never thought I would see you be snide.”
She laughed. “John, I’m the one who owes you an apology. And I’m not even sure I’ve realized all the things I’ve done to wrong you. I need some time to think before I come clean. I’ve already made a big enough fool of myself.”
“And pray tell, exactly how did you make a fool of yourself?”
“You know.” She blushed, then stopped and turned to him. “John,” she said earnestly, “I love you, you know that, and I don’t regret what happened between us. But I took advantage of your generosity. I know I put you in an impossible situation, and I’m sorry. I was a little crazy, I guess, but I’m not making any excuses, and I’m sorry I did that to you. I was wrong, and I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway, and while I appreciate your trying to make me feel better about it, you can’t. You just have to leave me alone for a while and let me get over it.”
John felt a great weight settle around his heart at the thought of her uncomplicated love—too generous, too freely given to him. He knew what he had done to her twenty-four days ago. She had lavished all of her love on him, and, in her most vulnerable moment, he had let her know he could not return it. And yet, she did not fault him for his cruelty. “You love me still? After all that?”
“Well, why ever not? You think I can get over you just like that?” She snapped her fingers.
“I thought you were—I thought I had hurt you, and you couldn’t forgive me.”
She looked at him as if she thought he was crazy. “Hurt me? You’ve never been anything but kind to me.”
“When I, when you—” He didn’t want to say it, to admit that he had fallen apart at the depth of her feeling for him. He shut his eyes against the vision of himself as she had looked deep into his soul and uttered the words, John, I love you. He knew he had flinched, had hesitated, had shown her his callous heart. He paused, took a breath, and launched in.
“Sally Beth, in case you are wondering, when I look at Geneva now, all I see is a friend and I realize I never loved her like I thought I did. I was just in love with the idea of being lovestruck. To tell you the truth, I’ve been running from the real thing, and I was using her—my supposed heartbreak—as a shield, a shield against anyone who might want to love me. I have to admit, I don’t think I know how to really love anybody. I look at you, and I see beauty and grace and love and goodness and strength. I just wish I could love you the way you love me. And I am sorry I hurt you.”
She pressed her hands against his chest. “You don’t understand. This is not about you and me. Whatever hurt I’ve suffered, I brought on myself. This is between me and God, and it’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
She sighed. “I let God down, and now things aren’t right between us. I need time to sort through some things, to beg His forgiveness, to learn how I’m supposed to love Him again before I can even think of anything else.”
“Things aren’t right between you? Lilly told me you went to the mountain to pray for me, and while you were there, my fever broke, and I started getting better. How could things not be right between you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think my prayers even reached Him,” she said miserably. “Either He chose to heal you without my intervention, or the medicines finally started working. I was just up there arguing with Him.”
“Well—how did you let God down?”
“I quit listening. I wanted what I wanted without even caring what He wanted. I got mad at Him. I ignored His will. I did my dead level best to seduce you.” She intoned the list like a somber clanging of bells. He didn’t know what to say, but he wanted to reassure her.
“Sally Beth,” he said hesitantly, “We—we didn’t do anything.” He groped for the words. “You’re still a virgin, if that’s what’s bothering you.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “This isn’t about my body parts, what’s been altered. In my mind, in my heart, my spirit, I did do something. I tried to run from God.” She hated to admit the next part. “I—I put you in His place. I wanted you—your love more than I wanted His. That’s worse.”
John listened quietly, his head down as she continued. “And I wronged you, too. I asked you—demanded that you do something you knew was wrong, and I didn’t give you a choice, not even a little out. I made you feel like you would be a horrible person if you didn’t make love to me, and, John, I’m sorry! I knew at the time what I was doing.” She bit her lip and fought back the tears. “I’m so sorry! I was really, really weak, and I was feeling desperate and lonely, and I was so in love with you, and you loved Geneva. Oh, John, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I understand why you can’t love me back.”
John was taken aback, and instinctively, he reached for her, wanting to comfort her, wanting her to know she was worthy of love from the right man, but just as he touched her shoulder, a sudden explosion rocked both of them from their feet. They fell to the ground as mud rose up, splattering them. The hill behind them erupted with people running and shouting. Raking the mud out of his eyes, John searched the area, only to see wild confusion. People streaked through the forest, running for safety, and behind them streamed an army of Ugandans, yelling and indiscriminately shooting automatic rifles. People were falling: men, women, and children screamed and collapsed, the blood flowing from their bodies, mingling with the mud, turning the place into a red quagmire where Death danced.
“Run!” he yelled, pulling Sally Beth to her feet. Dragging her into a grove thick with mangrove trees, he pushed her underneath a root. Half submerged in thick water, they held onto each other and watched while dozens of men in Ugandan uniforms attacked the fleeing people.
They waited, shivering in the quagmire of a sluggish stream until the last man passed, not daring to move until the noise had moved away from them, and then they bolted, rising to their feet, running downstream, falling through the swampy morass, until at last they came to the boats they had left tied to mangrove roots. Alice’s guide had already hustled Pastor Umbatu, Phil, Lilly, and Lyla into one of them. He sat with a white-faced Howard in the other one, grim, waiting. As Sally Beth and John emerged onto the wider swamp, the guide pulled her into the boat while John jumped aboard. They were just about to push off when they saw movement in the forest above them.
“Get down!” hissed the guide, as he maneuvered the boat among the sedge. The other boat followed closely behind. Waiting in the thick air, heavy with the suffocating stench of rotting vegetation, the group felt fear rising and hovering above them, nearly as palpable as the cloud of mosquitoes attacking them. They did not have to wait long before they saw two men stumbling down the hill, carrying a limp Alice Auma.
The guide sitting in the boat stood cautiously. “We are here!” he said softly, waving his hand. The men changed course, picking their way through the trees. Sally Beth recognized Francis and another man known as Tabor, although their faces were altered by fear and smeared with blood. A dark patch of blood stained the shoulder of Tabor’s shirt, and Alice was covered in blood from her shoulder to her hip.
“Alice has been shot,” gasped Tabor, just as he sank to his knees.
“Quick!” said Francis. “You must take her with you. She is alive, but you must get her to a hospital as quickly as you can.” He dragged his young commander down the hill toward the boat as the guide and Pastor Umbatu jumped out to run toward them, followed by all the others. Together, they laid Alice on the bank.
She had been shot in the gut. A great, gaping wound slowly pulsed and sucked, seeming to inhale and exhale, breathing blood. Sally Beth bent to examine the injury. “Somebody give me your shirt or something we can stop this blood with,” she said. Several items of clothing were handed to her, which she stuffed into the gory, throbbing hole.
“You must save her!” said Francis. “We still have time to get away; they are waiting for us on the other side of the island, but only you can get her to a hospital in time. Please take her in your plane.”
Alice stirred. “No,” she moaned. “I have not been granted permission. We have not purchased the right…” she groaned loudly. Francis and Tabor looked at each other.
Francis leaped to his feet, pulling coins and cowrie shells out of his pockets. “Give me what you have of value,” he said urgently.” I will take responsibility for this.” He flung the items from his pockets into the air. “Great Spirits, give us leave for Alice to enter the air!” Snatching coins from outstretched hands, he threw them high out over the water, watching them arc above the papyrus and sedge, then he turned to Alice and gently laid his hand on her cheek.
“Alice,” he said softly. “We have purchased the right. The air will allow you transport, with the blessings of the Spirits.”
She did not hear him. Her face had become still and gray, and the bloodstain continued to spread out over the compresses that could not stem the flow.
Sally Beth stood to look around. Fajimi had used bur marigold on John’s wounds to staunch the bleeding, and she knew it grew in swampy places on this island. She jumped up to the firmer bank, walking quickly, searching, until her eyes landed on a patch of yellow daisy-like flowers growing in a sunny spot. Running to it, she grabbed a handful.
John felt a sudden unease as he watched her walking away. When he drew breath to call her, a glimmer and a flash caught his eye, and to his horror, a Ugandan soldier stepped into the sunshine, wrapped an arm around Sally Beth’s waist, and pushed a knife against her throat.
She gasped, but silenced herself when the knife pressed closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John standing in deep shade, looking at her. The blood was slowly draining from his face.
John crouched, halting into a stuttering half-step in which he pivoted his left leg forward, the right hip turned slightly back, obscuring his holstered revolver. He had learned from his past mistake not to venture out into a war zone unarmed, but still, he was woefully unprepared for battle. Out in the open like this, even hidden by shade, he knew that if the soldier saw him, he would not be able to reach for the revolver and flip off the safety before the man drove his flashing knife into Sally Beth’s throat. He eased sideways, creeping higher up the bank to the shelter of the trees above him. In the eternity that passed second by second, he sensed the tension of the others behind him. Glancing back, he saw that they were partially hidden, crouched behind the sedge, but the boats still lay in the water, highly visible in a shaft of sunlight. If the soldier glanced in their direction, he would surely see them.
Alice’s guide was armed, but John did not know if he would be willing to kill in order to save Sally Beth; the Holy Spirits soldiers were trained never to shoot directly at the enemy. He did not know if the man who held Sally Beth was alone or if companions were nearby. There were sounds of distant gunfire and grenades, but all around the immediate vicinity lay deadly quiet. If he were to fire his revolver, anyone nearby would hear it.
Sally Beth concentrated on breathing and on keeping the eyes of the man who held her from straying to John. He was not easily visible, for they were standing in bright sunlight and John was in deep shade, but she could sense that he was slowly moving upward toward the trees. Oh, Lord, please keep John safe. And Lilly. I don’t care what happens to me, but let them get away. Tell me what to do to help them.
The man hoisted Sally Beth in one arm, the knife pressed in the soft, white place underneath her chin. She did not struggle, but risked one backward glance to John. He saw the terror in her clear blue eyes, and felt a jolt hit him full in the chest as he realized that her fear was not for herself, but for him. Those eyes begged him to run away, to leave her behind and find safety for himself. And beyond that, he could see the authentic soul of Sally Beth, and he remembered the way those eyes had looked into his when her words had come, without guile, without pretensions, John, I love you.
The heavy air suddenly lightened, turned clear and transparent, and in a flash, he recalled the sound of Holy Miracle’s voice floating to him, Your happiness is standing right in front of you. All of a sudden, he knew it was true, and that he had been blind and obtuse. Even as he had denied it, Sally Beth was everything he had ever said he wanted: here was his adventure, his challenge, his chance to be a hero. But all that meant little, for what he had said he wanted was simply a fiction he had created—what he thought he wanted, what had seemed to be a holy grail of his manhood. But as he looked into her eyes, limpid with love and fear for him, he knew that he had lied to himself for years. What he really wanted was the Sally Beth he saw standing before him, looking at him with such love pouring from her clear, honest soul, full of longing and hope and fear for him. She was more than beautiful, so much more than the script he had written, and he realized he could not live without her.
His heart beat against its cage. What had he done? Twenty-four days ago, she had told him she loved him. Twenty-four days ago, she had been willing to give herself to him. Twenty-four days ago, she had looked into his eyes, he had seen the golden heart of Sally Beth, laid bare and open to him, and he had flinched, had closed his heart. She had seen it, had seen his cowardice, his shallowness, and still she loved him.
He would have given his own life if only he could go back to that moment and take with him the love he felt for her now, if he could have, in that moment, made her know that her heart was safe with him, that he would cherish it as it deserved to be cherished. He forgot his weakness, his pain. He would die before he lost her, but more important than that, he knew he was capable of killing, more than capable. He would find a deep satisfaction in killing this man who was threatening Sally Beth.
Already, the man had begun to slowly back up, dragging Sally Beth with him. Within seconds, they would vanish into the forest. John steadied himself and locked eyes with Sally Beth.
She saw him shift his focus to look at her and saw his face soften, saw the raw, naked feeling for her, saw the anguish etched there, and she knew he was willing to die or kill for her. It made her sad, to think about the missteps they had taken, the love that they had juggled between them like a hot stone, tossing it from hand to hand, and up into the air, but never able to hold it together, never quite able to find a way to let it warm both of them at once. She wanted to shout out to him that whatever happened, she needed him to know that she loved him, loved him with her heart’s blood, with her spirit, with her soul. If she died in this moment, she wanted to send him the message that he had awakened something in her that was worth cherishing.
As the man began to drag her away, she fought to keep her eyes on John’s and saw his gaze harden, then he subtly moved his head to the right and let his eyes flicker in the same direction. She nodded, steadied herself, drew a sharp breath, and jerked her head upward, away from the knife. She tried to spin out of the man’s grip, but it seemed that he was a mountain of strength while she had the weight and power of a butterfly. All she managed to do was make him more aware of her. He tightened his arm around her head and laughed as it began to crush her.
During the struggle, John had managed to pull his revolver and snap off the safety. But before he could take aim, the attacker suddenly noticed him and swung Sally Beth around so that she was between them. Frustrated, John took a step forward, but the Ugandan reached behind him to flip his AK 47 around from his back, and he was forced to stop again.
Sally Beth saw the situation in slow motion. It was going to be up to her. If she did not disarm the Ugandan now, he would kill John, and most likely, everyone there. Taking the moment that the knife was absent from her neck, she spun around, lifted her knee sharply, and jerked it hard into the man’s groin while she simultaneously pressed her fingers against his carotid artery. She knew she did not have the strength to throw him, but if she pressed hard and long enough, she might be able to incapacitate him. His eyes bore directly into hers, and there were demons in them.
Not taking his eyes from hers, he grinned, then swept his arm upward, knocking her backward. She staggered and fell, skimming down into the water, just as a shot rang out. The soldier spun backward, clutching at his shoulder as another shot sang through the air. He cried out as he fell, blood blooming at his groin, his hands clutching at air, and John rushed forward, gun in hand, shooting again and again until the revolver clicked impotently, spent. That did not stop him. He raised his gun above his head, then pummeled the man’s head with a rage that filled him as he felt the satisfying crunch of metal on bone. Seconds passed before he felt Sally Beth tugging at his arm.
“John, stop! We have to go. Stop! There may be others.”
His vision cleared, and he saw the bloody revolver in his hand, the limp form of the man at his feet, the now-feeble pulsing of blood staining his uniform and the ground below him. John took Sally Beth’s hand, and they ran.
One of the boats was in the water, with Phil, Pastor Umbatu, and Lyla already paddling away. Alice lay in the bottom of the boat, her gray, chalky face resting in Lyla’s lap. The second boat remained at the bank, half in the water with the guide sitting in the forward section, but both Lilly and Howard Graves were crouched beside it. Lilly had her eye pressed to the viewfinder, intently focusing and shooting. Howard was next to her, a rifle in his hands, and he, too, had his eye to the scope.
Francis and Tabor suddenly rose from the reeds at the shoreline to hustle Howard and Lilly into the boat. They held it steady as John and Sally Beth reached the bank, splashing through the water with agonizingly slow steps. He picked her up, dumped her into the boat, and then grabbed the hands reaching for him to haul him out of the water.
“Get away!” whispered Francis urgently as he shoved them off. “Our country depends on her.” Then they slipped back into the shadows of the forest as John and Howard picked up their paddles and began the frenzied task of steering away from the bank.
When they had gone about a hundred feet, the first bullet whizzed by. Another hit the water beside them, and several others embedded themselves into the wood. Yet another splintered the oar that Howard held. He threw it away and picked up the rifle beside him. Throwing himself down, he leveled the rifle toward the shore just as another burst of fire spat into the water nearby. Two men stood at the edge of the forest, rifles pointed toward the small boats hurrying through the swamp.
Lilly lay beside Howard in three inches of water, and more water slowly poured into the craft riddled with holes. Her camera rested on the edge of the boat, her face, calm, concentrated, was plastered to the viewfinder. She was snapping and advancing film nearly as fast as the AK-47 fired bullets at them. Sally Beth dove on top of her, grabbed her by her blonde hair, and yanked her head toward the soup at the bottom of the boat.
“There are only two of them,” said Howard as he raised himself to one knee and took careful aim. He fired once, then again, and silence suddenly fell upon the reedy water. After a long moment, Sally Beth raised her head enough to look over the edge of the boat. There was nothing but marsh grass and mangrove trees visible in the tranquil, dappled, empty forest.
“Howard!” cried Lilly. “When did you learn to shoot like that?”
Howard sat in the bottom of the boat, stunned, the rifle lying beside him in the water. “This summer. After what happened last year when that boar attacked Geneva, I figured I ought to learn. How to ride, too.” He looked up, pale and shaking, and tears rimmed his lashes. “I didn’t know I would ever actually kill somebody.”
“I know what you mean, buddy,” came John’s choked voice from the other end of the boat. He sat still, his paddle hovering above the water for a moment before he flung himself at Sally Beth and gathered her into his arms.
November 24, 1978,
Lawn of the Victorian Hotel Inn, Nairobi, Kenya
John woke, shivering, with lights bouncing off his eyes. The sound of the Super Cub’s engine rattled his ears and his head, and he jumped up from the lounge chair in which he lay, only to feel such pain piercing his thigh that he fell flat on his face. As he was trying to pull himself up, he felt gentle arms around him and the sweet, warm smell of Sally Beth.
“Why aren’t you in bed? You’re shivering. And you’re wet. Did you sit out here in the rain all night?”
“Didn’t notice. It was bad enough I didn’t go to Bukoba with you. The least I could do is wait for you. Gordon is sitting by the radio. I could have gone to you if you needed me.”
“John, there was no need. We made it fine, and you needed to get the others back. Howard, help me get him up to his room. He’s freezing and plumb done in.” Howard Graves appeared at his other side, putting his arm around him. “Okay, man. You’ve played the hero enough today. No need to die of exposure just because we had to take a side trip. None of us are full of bullet holes, you know.”
“How’s Alice?”
“She’ll make it. We waited until she was out of surgery, but if we had known you were going to stay out here all night waiting for us, we would have come back sooner.”
Together Howard, Lilly, and Sally Beth helped the limping, shivering John up the hill to the hotel. “Don’t go to bed yet,” he said to Sally Beth when they had brought him to his room. “I’m going to take a hot shower, and I’ll be quick. Could you get me a cup of coffee?”
“Don’t you want to sleep a little? The sun won’t be up for another hour.”
“No, if you can stay up a little longer. I just need some coffee. Please. I need to talk to you, and I need coffee.”
Everyone fell quiet, assessing John’s condition. He looked better. At least he wasn’t shivering, and his eyes looked tired but more alert. At last, Sally Beth said, “You two go on. I’ll run down and get him some. The kitchen will be open by now.” Howard and Lilly looked at John and Sally Beth, then at each other. Something flashed between them, and Sally Beth thought about giving some cautionary advice, but then she reconsidered. Lilly was her sister, not her child. “Go on,” she said, as she slipped out the door. “I’ll be right back, John.”
When she returned ten minutes later, bearing coffee for each of them, he was dressed and sitting at the table waiting for her. “Thank you,” he said as she handed the coffee to him. “I’m sorry to make you go get it for me, but I got stiff out there, and walking is—”
She cut him off. “Don’t be silly. You have already done too much. You shouldn’t even have gone with us, but I’m so glad you did. How are you feeling now?”
“Fine, I guess. Except I’ve realized that I’m the world’s biggest idiot.” He paused, then his words came out in a rush. “Sally Beth, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know where to begin. How to begin. I’ve been blind; I’ve been arrogant; I don’t know why I’ve resisted loving you. But when I saw you with that knife at your throat, I knew that I can’t live without you.” He stopped. His hands were shaking, and he was dangerously close to bursting into tears.
“Hush,” she said. “You just got scared, and you feel responsible for me. You know, when you save somebody’s life, you think you’re accountable to them forever, or something like that. I think you just need to get some sleep. You’ll feel better.”
“I can’t feel better until I’ve told you. Until you know I love you. Until I have done right.” He put his hand to his forehead, blinking back tears, then looked at her again, imploring her to understand.
She chose her words carefully. “John, you’re overtired.” She did not say that she was overtired, too, and right now this was more than she wanted to deal with. When John had looked into her eyes there on the banks of the swamp, when the knife was pressed to her throat, she thought she had seen his feelings for her, but in reality, she knew that was just wishful thinking. John did not love her, but he really wanted to, he wanted to do the right thing, and he was willing to believe he was in love with her to make her happy. She sipped at her coffee, inwardly writhing at how painful this moment was. “Why don’t we talk about this after we’ve both rested a bit?”
He saw the doubt in her face, her misgivings. Drawing a shaky breath, he began again, “Yes, we can do that. But Sally Beth,” he said as gently and as non-threateningly as he could, “would you do something for me? Return a favor?”
“Of course, John.”
“Stay with me a while. Curl up with me on the bed and sleep with me. I need to hold you, and I can’t sleep unless you are here with me. I need to feel you, alive, in my arms.”
She remembered the night he had offered her the comfort of sleep in his arms, and how beautiful that night had been, under the stars, under the orange tree, an oasis in the midst of terror. Blinking back tears, she nodded. “Yes, I will,” and she stood and held out her hand.
He awoke hours later, feeling calm and warm. Sally Beth’s head was on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, and his arm was wrapped tightly around her. As he allowed consciousness to lighten his being, he felt the rightness of having her beside him, the sweetness of her regular, soft breath, and he felt an overpowering urge to hold her there forever. He studied her face for a long time, newly astonished at her beauty. The face of an angel.
At one time, he had said he wanted a woman who had read War and Peace and who could discuss it with him. Sally Beth, barely literate, would never read War and Peace, or anything like it, but she had lived through war and peace, and she had emerged from the darkest moments stronger and more beautiful than any woman he could imagine. What kind of fool had he been? The chuckle rose unbidden in his throat as he considered his own arrogance, his pretentiousness at trying to construct the “perfect” woman, and how Sally Beth was so much more than that.
She stirred, opening her eyes, but she did not move. “Good morning, my love,” he said. “You don’t have to wake up just yet. Sleep all day if you want to.”
She smiled as she sat up. “I’m hungry. And really, really dirty.” Lifting her arm, she gazed at the mud caked on it. He had not even noticed the mud until now. She was covered with it, and streaks of blood fouled the blouse she was wearing. He remembered anew the blood foaming from Alice’s stomach, the blood spewing out of the man’s shoulder and groin. Only her face and hands were clean; she must have washed them at the hospital while they were waiting through Alice’s surgery.
“Oh, gosh, I really need a shower, and clean clothes,” she said, looking forlornly at the filthy pink skirt and white peasant blouse. It had been her favorite outfit, the one Lilly had bought her for her birthday, and she had donned it for the Thanksgiving lunch as a private tribute to her sister. Now she would never be able to wear it again, for the memory of yesterday lay over it like a violation.
“I don’t want you to leave.” He was afraid she would never come back.
“I just want to get cleaned up. We can go to breakfast. Or lunch, whatever time it is.” She smiled at him, and hope fluttered in his heart.
“Go shower and change and meet me at the landing strip in thirty minutes. I’ll bring something to eat.”
He was glad she had not walked with him. Shards of glass seemed to find their way into his thigh and work their way up to his hip with every step he took, and he felt nearly helpless trying to manage the picnic basket as he hobbled the hundred yards to the plane through a shimmering drizzle. By the time she arrived, he was already in the cockpit waiting for her, and although he would have liked to help her get in, the best he could manage was having the door open for her. He did not want her to see him so helpless.
By the time they were aloft, a soft silence had inserted itself between them. She was feeling fretful and lost, reliving the horror of the death and suffering she had seen the day before; he was facing the urgent need to make amends for how he had failed her. They flew southward until the majesty of Kilimanjaro rose out of the mist before them, and John settled the plane down in an open savannah. The rain had settled into a whisper of drizzle, falling onto grass that had turned impossibly green from the rains. Rivers thundered through grottos and rocky draws nearby, and lakes had appeared in the grassy valleys. Everywhere lush flowers bloomed, perfuming the air with their sweetness mingled with the scent of rainwater, while Kilimanjaro glimmered white and silver in the distance. As Sally Beth climbed out of the plane, she gasped at the wonder around her, from the shimmering, emerald grass at her feet to the towering clouds above her, and the glorious, nearly infinite, sparkling mountain beyond. Sally Beth inhaled the purity of the air around her, feeling her spirit being cleansed from the horrors of the day before.
John limped out to an acacia tree with wide, spreading branches, the white blooms drooping like wisteria, exuding a scent as sweet as mimosa. There he spread a blanket over the lower branches to keep out the rain and another on the grass, and together they laid out the small feast he had procured from the hotel kitchen. They both fell onto the food as if they had not eaten for weeks.
After the first flush of their appetite had been satisfied, John sat up, looking at Sally Beth with watchful, sad eyes. He began hesitantly. “Sorry about last night. This morning, I mean. I was insane with worry.”
“I know. It’s okay. Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes. I’ve told you how I feel, and that hasn’t changed. Will never change. Now will you tell me?”
The question took her aback. She was not quite sure how she felt. She loved him, that she knew, but she was not convinced of his love for her, and her soul was greatly troubled. People had died and they had been responsible, things were not resolved between her and God, and His silence was oppressive. How could she begin anything new unless she knew for certain His blessing lay over it? “I… feel… confused. And sad at all that has happened. All this death, the defeat of Alice’s army. I feel like you and I need to sort of fall back and regroup. Do some thinking, I guess.”
He felt his heart plummet. “Whatever you need. I’m here. I love you. I’ll wait; I’ll follow you; I’ll be here. But I won’t be apart from you. I can’t let you get away from me. I’d rather die than lose you.”
“It’s hard to think about love right now, with all that happened yesterday. You killed a man, John. Doesn’t that… hang over you, oppress you? Make you feel lost?”
“No. I only feel glad that I killed him because it means that you are alive. I would be oppressed and lost if you were not here. Does it bother you? You’ve seen plenty of death these last few weeks.”
“I know. And I have been at least partly responsible for three deaths. This man yesterday, and two more when the Ugandans took Priscilla and me. She killed one of them with just a knife, and I helped her. John, it haunts me. I was raised to believe you never take the life of another, and I’ve been putting my own life and the lives of people I love—basically what I want, what I think I need—above that. It’s hard to live with.”
He edged closer. “Pray with me, Sally Beth,” he said, taking her hand. She hesitated before moving closer to him, and they both bowed their heads.
“Lord,” he said, “we have been caught in a war, and we have taken lives, and we don’t know if You will forgive us for it. Ease our hearts, Lord, not just about what has happened, but about loving. Let Sally Beth know how much I love her, how much I am willing to do for her. Let me love her, Lord, and let her love me.”
Sally Beth glanced up, and she couldn’t help but smile at John’s heartfelt, but selfish prayer. Not me, me, me, she thought. What can I do for You? She lifted her eyes to the silver mountain before her just as the sun broke through the clouds, and an unbearably bright shaft of light shone down on it, glancing into her eyes and making her squint.
Beloved, it is that easy, came the Voice as clear as the air and the raindrops shimmering in the sun. It always has been. My Grace is as great as My Might.
She startled. “What?” she asked.
John repeated himself, “I’m asking for you to love me.”
His words were rich and sweet, like honey, falling into her ears as softly as her own thoughts. Subtly, quietly, she felt a shifting in her spirit, a lightening of weight as she lifted her eyes to the bright snowcapped mountain, as she thought of her own green hills and of Holy Miracle Jones. A flock of blue swallows winged their way across her line of vision. From somewhere nearby came a birdsong, and behind the song was a memory: Sally Beth, the man God has planned for you will run from you before he runs to you, and when he catches you, you will know what it means to be loved.
“How long do you think it will be before you can run, John?” she said. She liked the idea of him running to her. She was tired of chasing after him.
“I can hobble pretty fast now. If you run slow, I think I could catch you. Why don’t we take a little break from all this and run away together?”
“Where to?”
“I’ve heard that West Virginia is a beautiful place. A good place to raise a family. I know of a little farm where I could run a clinic, right next door to the most charming family. He’s a physician; they have four little girls who would play with our children.”
She shook her head. “That sounds lovely. But I just realized how much we have to do here first. I don’t think it’s time to rest, yet.”
He sighed, and then he laughed. “I don’t know why I ever thought loving you would make me lazy. But I have an inkling of what I’m in for. Marry me. Marry me right now. Then we can get busy.”
Get busy echoed the Voice. I have plans for you two.
Sally Beth laughed as the joy welled up, sudden as a cloudburst, spreading from her belly to her chest to her head, and in celebration, she lifted her face into the sun and the stunning clouds of light and let herself be enfolded in the sky’s embrace.