Angel of Hope

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “Maybe, but to be honest, her change has bothered me. I’ve felt cut off from her. We’re in the same house, but not in the same place. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so.”

  “She said something happened to her spiritually. She and Dad had a discussion about it. I don’t think any of us understand it, but it’s real to Heather. She still wants to help people and all, but she wants to help them in a deeper way.”

  “Before God got to me, I was pretty wild,” Boyce said. “In trouble at school, driving my parents crazy. But once God changed me, I felt like some fire was living inside me. I wanted to do something good with my life, something for others. Trouble was, no one believed I had changed. Coming to Africa was part of proving it. While I was on the Mercy Ship, I met a whole lot of people who felt the same way. Building something over here has made me feel useful. Like my life was counting for something. Not just for the sake of the orphans living here, but for God, too. Not that God needs any help from me,” Boyce added with a laugh, “but it feels good to do something for him when he’s done so much for me.”

  Rain had begun to fall, and the drops on the thatched roof made a muffled patter. Amber felt wrapped in a cocoon of softness and cut off from the march of time. “You sound like Heather,” she said.

  “I can’t change who I am, Amber. I’m a man who loves God.”

  No guy had ever talked to Amber with such sincere, open honesty. It moved her. And it made her feel inadequate, as if she was missing a piece of something bigger. Back home, with her friends, with Dylan, she’d been able to feel as if she fit, as if pleasure and enjoyment were central to the scheme of life.

  From Boyce and her work at the hospital she was discovering something outside herself, something independent and unimpressed by her presence. She stood at a doorway, but a doorway into what she did not know. Still, she had sense enough to realize that if she went through the door, she too would be changed. And that was what made her feel uneasy. Once through it, there would be no turning back.

  “I admire you for knowing who you are,” she said above the patter of the rain. “I don’t know that much about myself, although I wish I did. But I trust you. And if you’re praying for Heather, I hope it will help her.”

  “Prayer is a way for us to talk to God, to ask him for something we want. Heather’s in his hands. He’ll watch over her.”

  And so was Ian, Amber thought, though she didn’t say it. All the prayer in the world hadn’t made a difference for him.

  Alice’s second surgery at the beginning of the next week went well, and once the dressings came off, everyone could see the dramatic improvement in her appearance. With Jodene and Kia, Amber visited the ward where Alice lay recovering. “It’s the repair on the inside of her mouth and nasal cavity that’s going to make the most difference in her life,” Janet said when Jodene raved about her surgical skills. “Now she’ll be able to learn to eat and talk properly.”

  “But it’s the outside that people see,” Jodene reminded them. “Looking normal will really improve the quality of her life. You’ve worked wonders for her.”

  Janet waved aside the woman’s praise. “By the time she’s a toddler, the scar will be as thin as a pencil line.” She smiled and smoothed the baby’s hair. “Amber, take a few photos to mail off to your sister.”

  “I’ll send along pictures as she improves,” Jodene promised. “I know how much this little girl means to Heather.”

  “I’m turning her over to the nursing staff,” Janet said, “and packing up for Kampala.”

  “Paul will take you whenever you’re ready.”

  Once her mother left, Amber would be on her own, and although her work was going smoothly and she’d forged friendships with Jodene, Boyce, and a few others, this would be the first time in her life that she would be totally out of touch with her family. She thought back to the many times she’d wished they’d get out of her face—just disappear. Now that it was about to happen, she had mixed feelings.

  Two days later, in the early hours of the morning, Janet prepared to leave. A call stateside the day before had revealed that the CDC specialist had been delayed in his trip to Miami, so nothing new had happened for Heather. “Don’t work too hard,” Heather had said cheerfully. But to Amber, her sister’s voice didn’t sound strong.

  Paul loaded Janet’s belongings, and Janet hugged Amber goodbye. “You going to be all right?”

  “Jeez, Mom, I’m seventeen. I think I can handle a few weeks away from my mommy.”

  Janet sighed. “I was just asking.”

  Amber held herself rigid. “I’ll be fine. When you talk to Heather, tell her I miss her. And Mom, if you find out anything about her health—”

  “I’ll get word to you,” Janet said. She stepped into the van and leaned out the window. “Be good, okay?”

  Amber rolled her eyes dramatically. “As if I could even find trouble around here.”

  “You have a knack, honey....”

  Paul started the engine and, as Janet waved to the small group gathered in the yard, pulled out. As the taillights disappeared, tears spilled from Amber’s eyes. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she said, holding up her hand to ward off sympathy.

  Boyce slung his arm over her shoulders. “Hey, it’s Saturday. What would you say to taking the day off with me? We’ll borrow the Jeep and I’ll take you to one of the most beautiful places on planet Earth.”

  Boyce drove to the town of Kabale, in Uganda’s mountainous region. “Lake Bunyoni, a crater lake six thousand miles above sea level,” he told her as they took a winding, rough road cut through a thick jungle of towering trees and fallen branches. As the Jeep chugged upward, the air turned cooler, less humid and smothering. At the crest of the slope, the ground flattened and Amber looked out onto a breathtaking view of lush acres of mountain forests surrounding calm blue water. In the center of the lake she saw an island, and on it, a building that resembled a fortress. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a school now, but once it was a leper colony built by the Dutch.”

  “Lepers! Like in the Bible?”

  “We have a few cases in our hospital. The patients are housed in the back buildings, along with the AIDS and TB patients. But leprosy is treatable, even curable with modern drugs. We can paddle out to the island by canoe later if you want.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Amber said, shivering at the vision of people with open sores and rotting skin.

  There was an inn at the top of the hill, accessible by steps carved out of the ground. A patio faced the lake. Boyce took Amber’s hand. “Come on. I’ll buy you lunch.” They settled into chairs facing the lake, and Boyce ordered strong Ugandan coffee. Happy to get her mind off disease and sickness, Amber took a lungful of rain-scented air and listened to the exotic calls of wild birds and monkeys.

  “This rain forest is the home of the only mountain gorillas in the world,” Boyce told her. “They’re shy animals that keep to themselves, and tourists come from all over the world on photo safaris to Bwindi National Park. Rangers protect the animals, but poachers still kill them.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Sure is, especially when you consider there’re only about six or seven hundred left.”

  “People certainly mess up the planet, don’t they?” Amber sighed. “I’m glad you brought me here. It’s really beautiful.”

  “I hoped you’d like it. When I’m up here, I feel like I’m on top of the world. Hard to believe that Rwanda is less than fifty kilometers away.”

  “Isn’t that where some of Ruth’s family is living?” Amber craned her neck in the direction Boyce pointed in, but all she could see were vast forests of trees.

  “Yes. She once lived there too. Never again.”

  “What’s wrong with Rwanda?”

  “Civil war broke out in ’90, and Ruth’s village was burned to the ground.”

  “That’s terrible. Was she hurt?”

  Boyce furrowed his brow. “You
mean you don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Her parents were away doing missionary work the night the rebels came and looted and burned her village. She was twelve years old and they dragged her off into the underbrush, raped her, and left her for dead.”

  11

  Amber felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. “I—I didn’t know. She’s never said a word.”

  “That’s why she counsels rape victims at the hospital. She knows what they’re going through. She knows how violated they feel.”

  Amber had assumed that Ruth did the same type of counseling she did. Not counseling for rape victims. “Twelve . . . she was just a child.”

  “Right. But they didn’t care. They were animals.”

  Amber shuddered. “She could have told me.”

  “I guess it’s not something she talks about except to other rape victims. Besides, I think she’s slightly in awe of you.”

  “Of me? Why?”

  “You’re Heather’s sister. You’re an American, and wealthy, and confident. Ruth’s not had much contact with Westerners. She admires you.”

  Amber felt her cheeks color. “I’m the one who admires her. Especially now. I thought she didn’t like me.” All her life Amber had been shielded and protected, given good things and plenty of opportunities. In the light of Ruth’s horrible trauma, Amber’s life was a fairy tale. “Why did the rebels do such a terrible thing? Why destroy Ruth’s village?”

  “Because she was from the wrong tribe,” Boyce explained. “Civil war is a fact of life in Africa. So is political unrest.”

  “Why didn’t her parents leave Rwanda? I would think they’d never want to live there again.”

  “Staying took courage, all right. Plus, they’re missionaries. It spoke volumes about forgiveness to villagers who had been attacked by the rebels. If Ruth’s family had been home that night, they would have been murdered. But they weren’t home. They believe God spared them to do good works, to spread the Gospel of love, not hate.”

  “How about Ruth? Why didn’t God save her?”

  “What makes you think God didn’t save her?”

  “But she was raped, and you said they were trying to kill her! What was she saved from?”

  “What those men meant for Ruth’s destruction, God used for her good. What happened to her was terrible, but it also sent her into Uganda. It put her with the Children’s Home. It led her to Patrick and to their engagement.”

  “Well, I would think God might have figured out some other way to accomplish the same thing,” Amber said indignantly.

  Boyce toyed with the handle of his coffee cup. “God permits evil to exist, and he often uses evil to accomplish his purposes. God doesn’t micromanage the universe, Amber. People have free will, and just because we don’t get it doesn’t mean it’s not part of a bigger plan we can’t see when we’re going through something bad.”

  Boyce’s notion that life worked out for the best regardless of the circumstances irritated Amber. “I still don’t think it’s fair. Ruth didn’t deserve to have that happen to her.”

  “I agree. But it did happen to her. And because it happened, she’s able to help others who’ve gone through the same thing. And don’t you know? Life isn’t fair.” He tipped his head to one side and flashed her a mischievous smile. “If life was fair, I’d be able to get a stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch.”

  “Are you changing the subject?”

  “Yes. But only because I brought you here to have a good time, not to make you mad at me.”

  “Fair enough,” she said with a toss of her hair. She didn’t like arguing with Boyce and didn’t want their relationship to turn adversarial. “I’m hungry too. Maybe I’ll be less crabby after lunch.”

  “You’re not crabby,” he said, signaling for the waiter. “You’re curious. That’s allowed. Ask questions whenever you want.”

  The waiter, a boy of about thirteen, hustled over and Boyce asked, “What’s to eat?”

  “Crayfish from the lake. Or chicken. Very good food.Very fresh.”A grin split the boy’s face.

  Boyce opted for the crayfish; Amber chose the chicken.

  “Below is the village,” the boy said, pointing to a cluster of huts along the side of the lake. “I will gather a cook.”

  “It could be a long wait for lunch,” Amber said, dismayed.

  “Here, have some of these.” Boyce opened a small backpack he’d laid by his feet and doled out two finger bananas and a pile of peanuts.

  “I thought Uganda didn’t have peanuts.”

  “They call them groundnuts.” Boyce popped a handful into his mouth. “What they don’t have is peanut butter. Instead they turn the nuts into a sauce to pour over meat. They also don’t have bread, so I guess there’s no reason for peanut butter to exist, is there?”

  “Well, I’ve eaten matoke—Uganda’s excuse for bread. It tastes like library paste.”

  “What’s wrong with library paste? I ate a steady diet of it in second grade.”

  “I’ll bet if we flavored it with peanut butter, you’d still eat it.”

  “Got any?”

  Amber poked him in the side. “Don’t make me slap you around,” she joked.

  They sat together in a long, comfortable silence, watching a woman walk up the hill. The boy who’d gone to get her was already back and stealthily tiptoeing up to a clump of bushes not far from the patio. He crouched and clucked softly. All at once a large rooster squawked and darted out from under a bush with the boy in hot pursuit. Amber began to laugh but stopped as the truth dawned on her. She grabbed Boyce’s arm and straightened in her chair. “Uh—do you suppose that’s my lunch?”

  Boyce studied the drama unfolding below. “Probably.”

  “Yikes! Tell him to stop! I can’t eat that poor thing!”

  “Why? Where did you think they were going to find your chicken?”

  “In a refrigerator.”

  Boyce laughed heartily. “There’s no refrigeration up here. No stores, either. If you’re hungry you pick it or catch it, then cook it and eat it.”

  Amber’s stomach churned. “I think I’m going to be sick. Make him stop, Boyce. Tell him I’ve changed my mind.”

  Still laughing, Boyce called out to the boy in Swahili. The kid looked up, gave Amber a curious look, then shrugged and hiked up to the patio. The rooster stopped flapping and settled down to peck at bugs on the ground. “What would the lady like for lunch?” the boy asked. “The cook is waiting for the chicken.”

  By now the woman from the village was inside the building behind them, and Amber smelled the aroma of sautéing onions and tomatoes. Normally her mouth would have been watering in anticipation, but her appetite had fled. “Vegetables would be good,” she said. “Just a plateful of cooked vegetables, please.”

  The boy exchanged looks with Boyce, who shrugged. “I still want the crayfish,” he said. He handed the boy a few Ugandan dollars. “More coffee. I think the lady needs it.”

  She needed it, all right. She also needed a constant reminder of where she was: She was in a place where chicken didn’t come in tidy little cellophane-wrapped packages. And wicked men thought nothing of taking a young girl by force simply because she belonged to a particular tribe. Simply because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong ancestors.

  It was well past dark when Boyce and Amber returned to the mission compound. Jodene met them in the yard with an oil lamp. “The lake is beautiful, isn’t it?” Jodene asked as Amber exited the Jeep.

  “Gorgeous,” Amber said. “But I think we hit every pothole in the road home. I wish I could soak in a hot bath.”

  “I know how you feel,” Jodene said. “When we first arrived, we stayed with another missionary couple. They had a huge old Victorian tub—perfect for soaking. In fact, in the cities, many Ugandan homes have tubs left from the time the British ruled the country. Trouble is, the tubs have no plugs. The Ugandans threw them all away.�
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  “How do they take a bath without a plug to stop up the drain?”

  “No African would ever sit in dirty bath-water. They were appalled at the British custom. Instead, they fill a container with water, sit in an empty tub, and pour the water over themselves. All the dirty water goes down the open drain.” Jodene shook her head, bemused. “Besides, water is precious during certain times of the year, and for one person to fill a tub and bathe when the same amount could water a field of crops, or some cattle . . . well, you can see how it appears wasteful to them.”

  Amber understood, but she still yearned for a tub of hot water and scented bubbles. “I guess,” she said with a sigh.

  Boyce excused himself. “Church tomorrow,” he said. “I’m speaking, and I want to see Patrick tonight.”

  “Speaking of Patrick, there’s been some excitement,” Jodene said. “Ruth received a message from her parents that her cousin Ann is also getting married. In fact, her father suggested that Ruth and Patrick come to Rwanda, to her uncle’s village, and get married at the same time.”

  “Rwanda!” Boyce said.

  After their conversation at the lake, Amber understood his alarm.

  “Is she going?” he asked.

  “They were waiting to talk to you. Ruth’s scared, but she really wants to go. If you’d go with them, they might do it.”

  Boyce hurried off to Patrick’s hut, Amber right on his heels. At Patrick’s living quarters oil lamps burned, and they found Patrick, Ruth, and their family of orphans sitting in a circle on the floor, praying. “Come,” Patrick said, taking hold of Boyce’s elbow. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Amber inched inside behind Boyce, hanging back, trying not to be in the way. Boyce went to Ruth, crouched in front of her, and caught her hands. “Jodene told me. She said you wanted me to go with you and Patrick.”

  Ruth’s large brown eyes looked serious. “I love my cousin. I would love to share this time with her. And I want to marry Patrick without waiting until September. Yet I am afraid.” A wry smile crossed her face. “It seems as if God is calling me home to face my demons, doesn’t it?”