The Impossible Lisa Barnes (Anika Scott Series)

by Karen Rispin

  The people looked too busy to pay attention to me, so I stood up and walked normally. That was a lot easier on the head. But I'd forgotten something until a noisy yapping reminded me: there's always a few skinny yellow dogs hanging around any African village.

  A couple of people on the outside of the circle turned to see what the dogs were barking at. It was too late to hide, and I couldn't run if my life depended on it. I just stood there kind of swaying on my feet.

  One of the women screamed and pointed, then everybody swung around. They just stared.

  "Jambo," I said. It was a silly thing to say, but I couldn't think of anything better. It came out really funny, too. Nobody answered. They just kept staring, So I started walking toward them.

  All the women screamed and ran, and the men backed up in a hurry. I'd never even thought that I must look pretty weird by this time. I touched my face, and my hand came away all sticky with half-dry blood and sand. My hair was all sticking up, and my legs were cut from the coral.

  "Don't run," I pleaded in Swahili. "Please help me. Where is my friend?"

  Everybody kept staring, so I yelled in English, "Lisa! Lisa, where are you?"

  I heard a muffled sort of yell from the house, but it was cut off like somebody had grabbed her mouth.

  One of the women who'd started to run had come partway back and was looking at me really hard. She ducked into her house and in a second was back out, running toward me with a cloth in her hands.

  She stopped right before she got to me and hesitated, "You are the daughter of Mr. Scott?" she asked with her head to one side.

  I nodded, and she wrapped the cloth around me, yelling something to somebody behind her. All of a sudden it seemed like there were about twenty people crowding around me, asking questions at once.

  I felt really dizzy and just kept saying, "Wapi rafiki yangu?" over and over, which means, "Where is my friend?"

  There was a loud argument outside the people around me, and the next thing I knew Lisa was shoved through the people and standing next to me. I felt so relieved! Then, all of a sudden, I couldn't seem to keep my balance anymore. For the second time, everything went black.

  | Go to Table of Contents |

  Chapter Ten

  Something wet and cold hit my face. Somebody had thrown water on me.

  "Come quickly, come quickly," I heard vaguely in Swahili, through the noise of people shouting.

  "Anika! Come on!" That was Lisa.

  I tried hard to wake up, but my head hurt so much. Then hands grabbed me under my arms, yanking me up and dragging me. I jerked my eyes open just in time to see a man's silhouette looming out of the dark. The sickening smell of stale beer washed over me. I wasn't sure if it was a bad dream, but I wanted out of there.

  I rolled over and frantically tried to get up. A huge black arm swung over me and there was a loud thwack. I cringed, but nothing hit me. I started crawling away frantically, and my hand bumped a person's face. I went around and kept going. There was a huge noise of shouting behind me.

  "Anika! This way!" That was Lisa's voice, just a little to my left. I turned toward her and could see her vaguely in the dark. A second later we stumbled through a door into an even darker house. A woman practically fell through the door after us.

  It was hard to tell just from the moonlight through the door, but I thought it was the same woman who'd brought the cloth. How had she known who I was? Who was she? She shut the door, and it was pitch black in the house. I could hear her shove something across the door. When I peered through the dark at her, I saw she was holding onto her side, kind of bent over, and gasping.

  There was still a lot of noise outside, but it was a bit muffled now with the door shut. I stayed where I was on my hands and knees on the floor, panting. I could hear both Lisa and the woman breathing hard.

  Finally, I gasped out in Swahili, "Who are you?"

  "Lydia, wife of Daudi," she answered between breaths. "Iwas at church. Your father gave us good words. I had to help you, but I don't know what my husband will do. He is not a Christian. Oh, what can we do?"

  She gave a kind of gasp, and I heard her feet going away toward the back of the house.

  It was dead quiet again inside. The noise outside seemed louder. I could hear the drunk fisherman bellowing and people arguing with him.

  "Lisa? Lisa?" I whispered. I couldn't bear being all alone again and called out loud, "Lisa?"

  "Shhhh, I'm right here," she whispered above my head. "Maybe they'll go away if we're quiet."

  I felt around frantically in the dark and hit Lisa's foot. She sat down beside me, and we held on to each other. My head and legs hurt like mad, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying. After a second I realized that Lisa might be hurt, too.

  "Are you OK?" I whispered.

  "Yeah, I guess," she answered. "Are you? I thought you were dead. You looked dead." She shivered and held on to me tighter.

  "My head hurts, and so do my legs," I whispered. We held on to each other and listened. My head hurt like my skull was on too tight. I kept hoping to hear the woman come back, but there was only the noise of the argument outside.

  I kept wondering about Lisa and what had happened. Finally I whispered, "What happened to you? Did he hurt you? I was afraid he would…" I stopped.

  "Yeah," she agreed, "I was scared, too. But what happened was really weird." She stopped and said slowly, "I guess God kept me safe, at least so far."

  She didn't say anything else, and finally I couldn't stand it. "Well what did happen?" I blurted. Then I felt bad. "I mean, you don't have to tell if you don't want to."

  "Oh, I don't care about that. It wasn't really terrible or anything—just weird. We got to the beach right after he hit you with that pole. You were just lying there like you were dead. He dumped you on the sand, grabbed me by one arm, and pushed me ahead of him up the beach. I was too scared to fight him after what happened to you.

  "Anyway, this village or whatever it is was all quiet. He pushed me through a dark doorway and threw me on the floor. I rolled away from him and held still. Some woman came out of the back of the house with a lamp. When she saw me, she screeched and started yelling at him. He bellowed and waved his arms around. His back was to me. I heard a sort of hiss right behind me. Then somebody whispered at me, but I couldn't understand." Lisa stopped talking for a minute, then said, "If I ever get out of here, I'm going to learn Swahili."

  She was quiet for so long that I finally said, "Somebody whispered?"

  "Yeah, it was this really old woman. She had her head poked out of a door behind me. She was motioning me to follow her. You can bet I did, too. When I reached her, she shut the door and shoved something against it. Most of what happened after that was yelling. The fisherman banged on the door and yelled. The old woman yelled at him and at me. The younger woman yelled and cried…I think she's his wife or something. Can you imagine being married to that creep? Anyway, I just sat still and kept praying and praying.

  "I guess the yelling woke everybody in the village, because pretty soon there were people outside the house yelling, too. It seemed like they kept on arguing forever, and I didn't know what they were saying. I figured out it had to be something about me, but I didn't know if that made it better or worse for me. The argument would get louder and softer, louder and softer.

  "Then it all went quiet, and you yelled my name. I tried to yell back, but the old woman grabbed my mouth. She must have changed her mind, because all of a sudden she opened the window and practically shoved me out. A bunch of people grabbed me and pulled me to you."

  "Did that fisherman chase you or something? Was that him who tried to hit me again?" I asked.

  "He didn't hit you. He hit the woman who was helping you. He knocked her down, and you practically crawled right over her getting away."

  "Oh…" So that's whose face my hand had bumped when I crawled away. She'd helped me for no reason except that we were at church, and she'd been hit for it. But that didn't st
op her. I felt a huge bubble of thankfulness come up in me. What had she said her name was? L…L—something. Lydia, that was it—Lydia, wife of Daudi. And she didn't know what Daudi would think of what she'd done.

  "Isthis her house?" I asked.

  "How should I know?" said Lisa. "It was the only house with a door open. She sure acted like it was. What'd she say to you anyway?"

  "She said she's a Christian," I said. "Her name's Lydia, and she was at church where we were on Sunday. She helped us because of that. She's afraid of what her husband will do, though."

  We were both quiet for a minute, and I realized that the shouting had stopped outside. I wondered again if this was Lydia's house, and if she would come back before her husband showed up. After a few seconds, I whispered, "We'd better pray."

  "Yes," Lisa agreed like she really meant it.

  "Dear God," I started, "Thank you that we didn't drown and that the fisherman didn't hurt Lisa. Please help Lydia's husband to help us get home."

  "Yes," said Lisa. "Please let us get back to our parents, and let Anika be OK and her dad be OK, too. In Jesus' name, amen."

  I hadn't thought about my dad all night, and a sick feeling washed over me like a wave. It was too much. The back of my eyes ached, my throat felt hard and choked up. A sob came out. It sounded so loud it scared me, but suddenly I was crying, and I couldn't quit.

  Thoughts swirled in my head, all mixed up. Lisa kept patting my shoulders and trying to get me to quit, but I couldn't. I kept thinking of things that just made me cry more—Daddy worrying; having to leave Kenya; being hurt and afraid in this dark hut; the smell of stale beer; Mom worrying about me; Lisa hating Kenya; us trying to scare the Barneses away (which seemed horribly mean now); the fisherman looming out of the dark over me; Lydia helping us even when she was hurt…But the thought that kept coming back, and that hurt the most, was the thought of leaving Kenya.

  Gradually I stopped crying so hard and got those hiccuping gasps you get after you've cried a long time. Now my head hurt even worse, but I had to admit I felt better inside. I sniffed and tried to wipe off my slimy face.

  "Here," Lisa said and shoved a piece of cloth into my hand. "It was on the floor."

  I'd just finished blowing my nose when stripes of light flashed across the room. A car had stopped right outside the house, and a second later another one pulled up. The second vehicle sounded like a Land Rover Lisa and I held perfectly still and listened. Doors slammed and loud feet stamped. There was a loud banging on another door, not ours, and a man yelled in Swahili, "This is the police! Open up!"

  I was so busy listening to what was going on out front that I nearly jumped out my skin when I heard someone come in through the back of the house.

  "Daughter of Mr. Scott? Daughter of Mr. Scott, are you here?" It was Lydia, and two other people were with her. What if one of them was her husband? I didn't answer.

  A match flared, and I could see Lydia lighting a lantern. The people behind her were just dark blobs. Then the lamp caught, and I could see them. Two African men. One was a stranger who had a cloth around his middle and looked like a fisherman. But the other man…I was sure I knew him. But my mind wouldn't tell me who he was.

  "It's the guy that preached," said Lisa, sounding really surprised.

  Hasan? I thought and looked again. A smile started to grow on my face. Lydia had gone to get Hasan! I'd never even really noticed him before, not to see him as a person, anyway. He was always just one of Mom's African students. Now he looked familiar and safe. He could take us home.

  "Hasan," I stammered and staggered to my feet.

  "Oh,sorry, sorry," he said hurrying over to me and Lisa.

  A tremendous banging on the door interrupted us. I'd forgotten all about the police out front. Lydia quickly went to pull back the table she'd shoved in front of the door and opened it.

  The white edges of the policemen's eyes and the edges of their wide khaki shorts caught the light.

  "You are hiding two white girls. You must give them up immediately!" one said.

  "No." It was the other man who'd come with Lydia and Hasan who answered. "My wife was helping them. Juma was drunk and has beaten one of them. He found them on the reef."

  "That's true," I blurted. "This woman is helping us." Lydia's husband wasn't so bad after all.

  Both policemen swiveled to face me and Lisa, "You must come with us immediately!" the first one repeated. "You must make a statement."

  My head throbbed, and I felt all dizzy again. I sure didn't want to go with those policeman—I was going to go home with Hasan.

  "No," I said, "Hasan will take us home."

  I should have known better. It's never a good idea to argue with police. If I'd just talked politely, I might have gotten somewhere. They simply stepped across the room, and one policeman grabbed each of us by the arm.

  "Hasan, tell Mom," I yelled back over my shoulder as we were hustled into the back of the police Land Rover. They just left us there. There were no windows.

  "You'd think we were the criminals," Lisa said, anger in her voice. "Let's get out of here." She rattled the door, but it wouldn't open.

  "Shhh, listen," I said.

  The police were telling Lydia that she'd have to come to the station. Then they started in on Hasan, saying he had to come, too.

  "Oh no," I said.

  "What's wrong now?" Lisa asked.

  "The police are trying to get Hasan to come, too. If he comes, nobody will tell Mom and Daddy where we are."

  "The police will, won't they?" she asked.

  "Eventually, I guess." I just hung my head.

  The front door of the Land Rover opened and slammed, and a second later we were moving. I didn't know if they'd taken Hasan and Lydia in the other car or not. I sure hoped they had that horrible drunken fisherman, Juma—or whatever his name was. I wanted him to get into lots of trouble!

  That long bumpy ride into Malindi was one of the worst rides of my life. Every jerk and jar of that Land Rover shot through my whole body. The seat was cold, and the sand on it hurt my bare legs. I ended up huddled against Lisa, crying.

  She held on to me, trying to keep me from being joggled. She also kept talking to make me feel better, all about how God had kept us safe from the ocean and the fisherman. I really loved her then, but I still felt miserable and not safe at all. I wanted Mom and Daddy. Then I thought, Daddy's so sick he couldn't take care of me anyway. It just wasn't fair.

  Finally the Land Rover stopped, and somebody opened the back.

  "Get out," one of the policemen ordered in Swahili.

  I just sat there. I hurt all over. Besides, I didn't want to make a statement, whatever that was, especially in Swahili. Until now, all my life, Daddy had done the talking whenever we had to do something with governments, banks, or official stuff.

  "Get out," he ordered even louder and banged on the back of the Land Rover.

  "Whatdid he say?" asked Lisa.

  "He said to get out," I answered.

  "Well, let's do it then," she said climbing out. I followed her, moving slowly.

  Lisa was already following the police onto the veranda of the police station. Her hair was all tangled and sticking out, and she still just had a swimsuit on. That's all I had on, too, and I felt self-conscious going into a police station with just a swimsuit on. The bare light bulb above the door was the brightest light we'd seen all night, and it hurt my eyes as I followed slowly after Lisa and the police.

  One policeman turned and looked back at me. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Then he burst into speech. It was too fast for me to follow—something about being hurt. Then he hurried back toward me saying, "Pole, pole," which means "Sorry, sorry."

  Two other policemen came out of the building, and they kept arguing with the first policeman the whole time they were taking me inside and making me sit down.

  He kept saying over and over, "I didn't know she was hurt. It was dark."

  Lisa stood beside me. I co
ncentrated on sitting up straight. It seemed harder than usual somehow.

  Vaguely I heard the door open and more people come in, but I didn't look up until Lisa yelled.

  It was Mom! Mr. Barnes, Hasan, and Dr. Bishop were with her. I squealed, jumped to my feet, and tried to run to her. But my legs weren't working right, and I ended up doing more of a wobble.

  Mom came toward me and caught me and took me right back to the chair. I landed in it just before I fell down. She held on to me and kept saying, "Anika, Anika," over and over. Every now and then she'd throw in a "Praise God."

  I just put my head up against her and held on. Even the way she smelled made me feel safe. Then I thought of Daddy, looked up with a jerk that really hurt, and blurted, "Daddy's OK, isn't he? He's not worse?"

  "Don't worry about your father," Mom said. "He felt much better as soon as we knew you were safe. Elsie Barnes is with him." She hugged me again. "We're just so glad you're alive."

  Vaguely I heard Dr. Bishop, Hasan, and Lydia's husband talking to the police. Then Dr. Bishop came and looked at my head. He also made me look right at him so he could see my eyes and crouched down to look at the coral cuts. He did it all real quick, then went back to talking to the police. They seemed to talk for ages, but I didn't care because I was with Mom.

  I was half aware that Lisa was talking and talking to Mr. Barnes, and part of me had room to feel happy that things were going to be OK between Lisa and her dad.

  Next thing I knew, Mom was helping me out to a car. It turned out to be the Barneses' car. As we walked, I noticed it was getting light outside already. Lisa sat in front with her Dad. I sat in the back between Mom and Dr. Bishop. Dr. Bishop kept asking me about how I got hurt and what happened after. I was so sleepy I could hardly answer him.

  | Go to Table of Contents |

  Chapter Eleven

  I woke up when somebody was trying to pick me up out of the car. We were back at the house! I struggled to stand up and winced. Boy! Did it ever hurt!

  "Now just you hold still, honey. We'll have you inside in a jiffy." It was Mr. Barnes. I could see his face and blue sky above him. Then I saw the doorway, then the ceiling, and then I was laid down on a bed.