Angel of Hope

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “I’m sure you will be.” Amber thought Ruth far too serious for one who was soon to become a bride. She wore no engagement ring. Neither had she talked about a honeymoon, or buying things for herself or a new house. “Will you live here?”

  “For a time, yes. Then we will become missionaries and move out into the bush to spread the Gospel.”

  Amber realized she didn’t have much in common with this girl. Becoming an itinerant preacher’s wife before she was twenty and living off the land didn’t sound very appealing to her, but she hoped she seemed more enthusiastic about it than she felt. She didn’t want to hurt Ruth’s feelings.

  When it was time for Amber and Boyce to leave, Ruth said, “It is pleasant to know you. You are like your sister in some ways, but you are yourself, too.”

  On the walk to the guest house in the moonlight, Amber asked, “Everybody loved Heather, didn’t they?”

  “Yes,” Boyce said.

  “You too?”

  “She’s my sister in the Lord. I love her like a sister. Believe me, Amber, a lot of workers come through the Mercy Ship program, and most are dedicated. But few have the intensity, the heart, the sheer love for mankind that Heather has. God used her in a mighty way while she was here. Perhaps he will use her again. I don’t know. I do know that I count it a privilege to know her.” He stopped at the doorway of the guest house. “You’ve come as her emissary, and I think that’s admirable too.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “We’re different,” she said. She didn’t want him to think she was her sister’s clone. “We don’t exactly think the same way.”

  “Maybe not as different as you think. Wait until you’ve been challenged. Then you’ll see what I mean.”

  He told her good night, and she went inside. Her mother was asleep, so she got ready for bed quietly and slipped under the clean sheets. She lay in bed, staring at the moon through the screen of the bedroom window, her mind jumbled with thoughts.

  It dawned on Amber that Heather had truly achieved a kind of cult status at the compound. Amber’s motives for coming hadn’t been pure—she had wanted a change of scenery, a way to perk up her boring life. Coming to Africa on Heather’s behalf seemed logical and altruistic. But it had also been self-serving. She felt like a fish out of water among these gentle people dedicated to serving God. How long before one of them discovered that she was a fraud?

  9

  Amber’s plan to sleep in changed quickly when her mother routed her out of bed early the next morning. “We have to be at the hospital in an hour,” Janet said. “This isn’t a vacation, you know.”

  Although her mother’s bossiness irritated Amber, she refrained from complaining. After all, Heather had kept such a schedule, and so could she.

  At the hospital her mother went off to perform surgical duties, and Dr. Gallagher assigned Amber to the Women’s Clinic, an outpatient operation that handled routine immunizations, performed TB testing, and dispensed information about birth control and HIV. Local women were lined up with their children from the minute the doors opened. An Ugandan nurse named Grace explained the counseling process to Amber, and to Amber’s great surprise, she was left on her own to counsel native women about the various forms of birth control.

  She felt overwhelmed at first, and embarrassed to be talking about such things with strangers. The women seemed incredibly young, and most had two or three children clustered around their chairs. But they looked eager to learn what she had to say, and before she knew it the morning had flown and Grace was excusing her to go to lunch. She stepped out the door and ran into Ruth.

  “I didn’t know you worked here,” Amber said, pleased to see a familiar face.

  “I do counseling in another room.”

  “What do you tell the women? Saying the same things about birth control all day long sure gets old. Maybe you can help me do a better job. Maybe we should work together. That would be good, don’t you think?”

  “I counsel women with other problems.” Ruth looked uneasy, as if Amber’s suggestion had upset her.

  An awkward moment of silence passed. Finally, noticing that Ruth’s hair was covered by a white cloth and her dress by a white apron, Amber asked, “Are you a nurse? You look so professional.”

  “I am an apprentice. When Patrick and I are serving in the bush, I will have to care for villagers. I am learning how.”

  “Can we eat lunch together?” Amber changed the subject when her stomach rumbled.

  “Thank you, but I do not have time.”

  “So where’s the cafeteria?”

  Ruth gave Amber a blank stare.

  “You know, the place where the staff go to eat their meals.”

  Ruth shook her head. “You must bring food with you. Only the patients are fed at the hospital.”

  Embarrassed by her faux pas, Amber shrugged. “Silly me. I forgot to bring anything. Oh, well . . . I’ll skip lunch. Besides, it’s almost time for Alice’s surgery, and I’d planned to hang around until it’s over. Can you please tell Grace what’s going on? Tell her I’ll be here in the morning, though. I don’t want her to think I’ve deserted her.” She realized she was babbling. “Got to run. Catch you later.”

  Amber took off toward the surgical wing, made a wrong turn, and found herself in an unfamiliar ward filled with male patients. Every bed was occupied, and more patients had been placed on mats lining the floor. A man in a makeshift traction device consisting of wooden rods, pulleys, and rope, called out to her in Swahili. “Maji. Tafadhali, maji.”

  “I—I don’t understand.”

  The man in the bed next to him said, “He wants water, please.”

  “I—I’ll get a nurse.” Amber looked around for someone—anyone. The room held only the sick and hurt. There were no nurses or orderlies.

  “You are a nurse,” the man said.

  “No. I—I’m only a helper.”

  “Maji, maji,” another called.

  All at once other patients began to cry out to her, some in pain, some in anger. One man on the floor grabbed for her foot, making her squeal. Panicked, she said, “I’ll send someone.” She backed out of the ward, turned, and ran toward an outside door with the men’s cries chasing her.

  “Mom, I’m not cut out for this.”

  An hour later Amber stood in the area directly outside the operating room with her mother, sniffling back tears and telling her mother what had happened. Janet was dressed in pale green scrubs, preparing for Alice’s surgery.

  Janet shook her head. “Listen to me, Amber, you can’t fall apart. I don’t have time for it. I know things are hectic—”

  “Things are bizarre,” Amber corrected. “Sick people are lying on floors, the equipment is dilapidated, there’s not enough of anything to go around—”

  Janet took hold of Amber’s shoulders. “Stop it. I know conditions are primitive by our standards, but this place is first-class compared to others I’ve seen. Now I have to go in there and operate on that baby. I have to concentrate and can’t be worrying about you. So pull yourself together and wait for me. Jodene is coming over with Kia. Neither of them needs to see you in shambles.” Janet let go of her daughter’s arms. “You will be all right.”

  Chastised, Amber hung her head. “I—I’m sorry.”

  The operating room door opened and a nurse said, “We are ready, Dr. Barlow.”

  Janet tied her surgical mask over her mouth. “I’ve got to scrub. Can you manage?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Her mother stepped inside the operating room. Amber glanced out the window and saw Jodene and Kia coming across the hospital’s neatly trimmed grass. “How did you do this, Heather?” she asked under her breath. When Jodene and the child walked into the area, Amber put on a smile and announced, “You’re just in time. Alice just went into surgery.”

  Jodene told Kia, “We’ll visit Alice when the doctor is finished. Now we must wait.”

  “Does she understand what’s happening?” Amber asked.


  “I told her that Dr. Janet, the Mother Doctor of sisters Heather and Amber, is going to make Alice’s face look like Kia’s face. I think she gets it.”

  They sat on a hard wooden bench along the wall to wait. Unexpectedly, Kia handed Amber a small package wrapped in a banana leaf.

  “What’s this?” Amber took the green leaf and opened it. Inside lay two pieces of homemade bread.

  “It’s a peanut butter and honey sandwich,” Jodene said. “Boyce and I thought you might be hungry. You know, it’s not everyone he shares his peanut butter with,” she added with a chuckle. “You must really be special.”

  The unexpected gesture of kindness touched Amber. “Thank you,” she said to Kia. “I forgot to pack a lunch, and I’m really hungry.”

  The child’s wide, trusting eyes tangled with Amber’s gaze. “Mother Doctor will make my dada so that she can smile very pretty.”

  Emotion closed Amber’s throat. “Yes,” she said, suddenly proud of her mother’s skills. She smoothed Kia’s hair. “My mother can do that. She will make Alice’s smile very pretty. Just like yours.”

  The surgery took an hour. Alice went to the recovery room, and Janet bent the rules and carried Kia there to see her sister. Jodene and Amber waited in the hall while Amber wondered if the sight of the surgical dressing would scare the child. But Kia returned looking satisfied, not frightened.

  “I’m going to stay around for a while,” Janet told Amber. “Why don’t you go back to the house?”

  “You’re both having dinner with us,” Jodene interjected. “Come straight over when you’re finished.”

  “We’ve got to learn to fend for ourselves,” Janet said. “You can’t be feeding us every night.”

  “Nonsense. We like your company. And when you head off to Kampala at the end of next week, we expect Amber to eat all her meals with us.”

  For that Amber was grateful. Heather had had friends to eat with every night, but Amber would have no one once her mother left.

  “Thanks,” Janet said to Jodene. To Amber she said, “We’ll call home tonight. I know your sister’s sitting by the phone waiting for a full report.”

  Amber was certain her mother was correct.

  After dinner Amber helped Jodene do dishes at a sink with a hand pump connected to an underground well, and Janet returned to the cottage to place the phone call. “Give me about twenty minutes to talk, then come,” she told Amber.

  Amber waited the allotted time, then hurried to the house to take her turn on the phone. “Hi, sis.”

  “Hi yourself. Mom says you’ve pitched right in at the hospital. It’s different from medical care over here, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say. I feel sorry for the people. I’m counseling women about birth control,” Amber added quickly. “Who’d have thought it?” Hurrying on, she said, “Patrick has a fiancée— Ruth.”

  “Patrick’s engaged? That’s wonderful! What’s she like?”

  “Sort of quiet. She and I don’t have a lot in common, so it’s not easy to have conversations with her. She’s worrying about being a good missionary wife. She seems really nervous about it.”

  “Well, I’m sure if Patrick picked her out, she must be special. How’s Boyce?”

  “You didn’t tell me he was so totally hunky.”

  “You saw photos of him.”

  “Grainy little snapshots,” Amber corrected. “Up close and personal, he’s pretty awesome.”

  “I’ll write and tell him you said so.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Amber squealed. “I’ll never speak to you again if you do.”

  Heather laughed. “All right, I’ll keep quiet. Now, tell me about everybody else. I want to hear what you think about everything.”

  Amber launched into a monologue about Alice and Kia, Jodene and Paul—anything she thought Heather might want to hear. Once she’d finished, she asked, “And how about you, sis? How are you doing?”

  “I’m still having problems. The doctors are baffled, and Dad’s on their backs all the time. I’m seeing another specialist on Friday. He’s from Atlanta’s CDC—Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.”

  “They think you’re contagious?”

  “No—but since they can’t figure out what’s wrong, they’re trying everything. Maybe I did pick up something while I was in Africa.” A chill went through Amber, but she didn’t say anything. “I told Dad that hundreds of people travel to Africa and never catch anything, so if you’re worried about it, stop worrying.”

  Amber blushed. Her sister knew her too well. “I’m not worried.”

  “I’m doing exactly what I’m told,” Heather added. “Staying in bed, taking my medicine . . . Truth is, I don’t feel much like doing anything else.”

  “Then do nothing! You can always shop QVC.”

  Heather laughed. “You nut! How’s that shopping gene helping you in Uganda?”

  “Give me time. I’ve only been here a few days.”

  “I miss you, Amber.”

  “I miss you, too.” Amber swallowed the lump of emotion sticking in her throat and saw her mother signal her from the bedroom doorway. She told Heather, “Mom’s giving me the evil eye. I’d better hang up.”

  “She said she’d call again after Alice’s second surgery. Take care,” Heather said, sounding teary. “And go easy on Boyce. He’s already had his heart broken by Ingrid.”

  Amber hung up, thinking about everything Heather had said to her. She took the phone to her mother in the living room, asking, “What’s your opinion of Heather’s being seen by someone from CDC? What do you think he’s looking for?”

  “Your father’s worried that she might have a mutant strain of the hepatitis virus.”

  “That’s bad?”

  “Yes,” Janet said in her gravest tone. “That could be very bad indeed.”

  10

  “I’m telling you, Boyce, it could be serious.” Amber had sought out Boyce the next evening as soon as both had completed their work for the day. They had met under the pavilion because the sky was threatening rain.

  “What exactly did your mother tell you?” Boyce asked. He was freshly showered, his hair still damp.

  “She had some medical mumbo jumbo about the different strains of the hepatitis virus. It seems like science is constantly discovering some new strain of it—A, B, C . . . all the way up to G. The worst is C because it destroys a person’s liver.” Amber paced as she talked.

  “Can’t doctors give you an immunization shot against it? I got an armful of shots before I came here.”

  “Sure, for hepatitis A and B. But not C. And according to Mom, there’s no known treatment for it. What if Heather has hepatitis C? What if she begins to lose her liver function? A person can’t live without a liver, Boyce.”

  Boyce took Amber’s hand. “Slow down, girl. You’re jumping to conclusions. What exactly did your mother tell you?”

  “She said that a small percentage of the people who have it die from it.”

  “A small percentage,” Boyce emphasized. “Besides, you don’t know for sure that Heather even has the virus.”

  “That’s why the doctor from CDC is coming to examine her. According to Mom, he’s an old friend, someone they knew years ago when they were in the Peace Corps. He’s some kind of specialist in infectious diseases. Not that Heather’s contagious or anything. But what if she picked up this virus?”

  “Then this guy will figure it out.”

  “Mom’s going to call again before she heads off to Kampala. But she’s taking the phone with her, so how will I find out anything?”

  “If it’s serious, she can reach Paul on his ham radio unit.”

  Amber chewed her bottom lip. “I’m worried about her. Really worried. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

  “Heather’s in good hands, and I’m sure her doctors will get to the bottom of her problem soon,” Boyce said soothingly.

  “I feel helpless. I wish there was something I could do for her.”


  “You can pray. Patrick and I meet every night for prayer. We’ll put Heather at the top of our prayer list.”

  Amber didn’t have as much confidence in prayer as Boyce did. “Do you really think God listens?”

  “Yes. And because you come from a family of doctors, you should know that plenty of doctors also believe in the power of prayer. I read some studies scientists have done on the subject, and it’s documented that people who pray, people who believe in God, recover more quickly and with a lot less stress. Even people who are prayed for without knowing that they’re being prayed for recover faster.”

  “Really? ” That sounded hopeful to Amber. If such a scientific study had been done, there had to be some truth to it. “I don’t mean to sound skeptical,” she said. “I—I just don’t feel the same way about things that you do. About God and all.”

  Boyce looked her in the eye. “Faith is a gift from God, Amber. No one’s born with it.”

  “I’ve never heard that before.”

  “Think about it. Our brains want everything spelled out for us. We want proof of something before we believe in it. Faith is trusting in what we can’t see or touch. It’s being changed from a person who must have things proved to a person who accepts the unprovable as true and real. That’s a big leap for a lot of people. And one that only God can accomplish by faith.”

  Amber considered his explanation. Her sister had always been a person who wanted to help others. When the two of them were growing up, Heather had been the one who raised money for charity and organized food drives. But when she’d come home from Africa, she’d been different.

  “Coming here, meeting up with you, Ian, Jodene, and Paul, changed Heather,” Amber told Boyce. “Losing Ian was part of it; she was sad and she kept to herself more. But she was also more . . . focused. Quieter. It’s hard to describe.”

  “She encountered a different world over here. I know, because so have I. Being here changes your perspective on our world. Our American, sanitized, white-bread world,” he elaborated. “Being changed isn’t necessarily a bad thing, you know.”