Finally and Forever

by Robin Jones Gunn

  What hit Katie so hard was that Rick had managed to get in touch with his true feelings and take the lead in acting on them. He had decided after only a few months of dating Nicole that he was ready to commit himself to one woman, and Nicole was that woman. Katie was astounded. She didn’t know where to put that thought. For so many months she had worked out scenarios in which she was that woman. Rick’s one woman. But, no. It was her friend.

  “I’m happy for them,” she said, sounding emotionally flat even to herself.

  “Are you really?”

  Katie looked at Eli. He glanced over at her, and she nodded. “Yes. I’m shocked, but I’m happy for them.”

  Eli gave her another glance, this time with an encouraging grin attached to it. He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “I guess when you know it’s the right person for you, you just know.”

  She felt her heart stir. He had just made that declaration in front of his parents.

  “Do you think that’s true, Eli? Really?”

  “Yes. Really. I do. Don’t you?”

  Katie wanted to believe it. She wanted to agree. But at this moment, she couldn’t find a way to add her own affirming comment. What was it Christy had said about riding along inside the mystery of growing a relationship? That’s how she felt right now.

  Eli let go of her hand and put both hands on the steering wheel to navigate the bumpy stretch ahead. Katie noticed that he turned on the headlights because the daylight had faded quickly, and the dark African night was rolling in, covering them with an inky blanket of darkness. The only lights were the car’s headlights and the stars that Katie could see out the windshield. The moon wasn’t in front of them, nor did it seem to be providing any light. It was the darkest night Katie had ever seen.

  Eli hit a bump and slowed down. A minute later he hit another big bump, and when he did, the engine made a strange clunking noise.

  “That didn’t sound good,” his dad said.

  The car coasted; the engine had shut itself off.

  “Hold on,” Eli called out. “The steering wheel is locked.”

  “Put it in neutral,” his dad said.

  “I already did.”

  “Try the brakes.”

  “Got my foot on them.”

  Katie braced herself. She could see nothing but rutted road ahead of them. No cliffs or drop-offs.

  “There’s a level, open spot up there,” she said, straining her eyes. “It looks like a turnout.”

  Eli coasted into the area, working hard to force the steering wheel to turn the tires to the right. He pressed on the brakes, and the car stopped with the left side of the car still on the road and the right side on the turnout.

  “Let’s see what we have going on under the hood,” Jim said. He was out the back door before Eli even had his seat belt off.

  Katie noticed that none of the Lorenzos seemed overly concerned at this turn of events. All three of them were acting as if this happened all the time, and once again they seemed content to go with the flow. Katie could hear Jim directing Eli where to shine his flashlight. The two of them remained hidden behind the car’s raised hood. Then it sounded as if one of them was underneath the engine, tapping on something.

  “Nothing obvious under here,” Eli said.

  Katie and Cheryl got out and peered at the engine with the guys. Not that either of them could say what they were looking for.

  “I guess we pray for a mechanic and see what God brings us,” Cheryl said.

  As had been the custom often at Brockhurst, they stopped right there, joined hands, and prayed. Then they put together a plan for taking turns with the flashlight to “pay a visit to the cheetahs,” which was code for going off to find a private spot to go to the bathroom. The guys went first, leaving Katie and Cheryl standing in the light of the car’s headlights.

  It was so dark that Katie kept looking up into the vast night sky. The stars, like pinholes in the velvet carpet of heaven, permitted the tiny points of glory to slip through. She thought of Queen Elizabeth coming down the stairs at Treetops and Rebekah going to Isaac in the field. Two very different women who had life-changing moments on ordinary days. From that one event on, they knew what their lives were about. They entered what was next and lived it out. Katie wanted that. With or without Eli or any other guy in her life, she wanted to know what God had created her to do. But she had to admit, she would rather go the distance with Eli than without him.

  The guys returned and handed over the flashlights. Katie headed off into the brush with Cheryl following close behind.

  “Clap your hands, Katie.”

  She obliged and made critter-shooing noises while Cheryl swished the flashlight. The next five minutes weren’t as bad as Katie thought they might be. Cheryl came prepared with what they needed and made the experience seem natural. They returned to find Eli and Jim stretched out on the car’s closed hood, gazing at the stars. Katie smiled.

  Eli held out his hand, inviting her to clamor up and stretch out beside him. She didn’t care how dirty the car’s hood was or how many squished bugs on the windshield were going to now attach themselves to her shirt. She was in Africa, watching the night sky and stretched out next to Eli. This was a memory moment that overlapped the meteor-gazing night in the California desert and yet had a pristine beauty all its own. This was a different continent. These were different stars, and in many ways she was a different person than she had been last fall.

  Eli, however, was his same, steady self.

  Jim spoke softly, pointing out the constellations. Cheryl pulled a bag of her own version of trail mix from the backseat and passed it down the line while she stood next to Katie on the passenger side of the car. The four of them munched their evening meal of peanuts, pumpkin seeds, and dried pieces of papaya and banana while passing a bottle of water around.

  In the distance, they heard a chilling sound of some sort of animal. The call was faint but distinctly a wild creature.

  “What was that?” Katie asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Jim said. “But I’ll tell you one thing. We’ll be sleeping in the car tonight.”

  “I’ll take the driver’s seat,” Eli said.

  None of them protested, because they all knew that Eli could sleep anywhere. Jim took the passenger’s seat, and Katie and Cheryl shared the backseat. Katie put on her faithful Rancho Corona sweatshirt and was grateful for the silly luxury of having brought her pillow. She put it between her and Cheryl, and the two women fell asleep sharing her pillow with the Little Mermaid pillowcase.

  Through the night they slept in snatches. They would doze off, and then someone would hear a sound outside and rustle enough to wake everyone else. The night sounds increased. At one point, they were certain they heard a car approaching. Eli got out with his flashlight, prepared to wave them down. But no car lights ever appeared on the road.

  By first light they were up and out of the car, eager to stretch. The world around them seemed much friendlier, even though it was just as void of human activity as it had been last night when they were rolling along on this road.

  Katie was slowly chewing her handful of trail mix from the morning ration when she thought she saw someone walking down the road toward them. “Is that a person, or am I seeing things?”

  Eli shielded his eyes from the sun that had just risen in the east. The light shone behind the man as he walked and cast a glow on him so that at first it seemed he was there, but then the light swallowed him, and he seemed to be a mirage.

  “Dad, I think someone is coming this way.”

  Jim and Cheryl joined Katie and Eli at the front of the car.

  “Do you have yours?” Jim asked Eli in a low voice.

  “Yes.”

  Katie didn’t know what they were talking about, but she could guess that in the same way both of them had flashlights connected to their key rings, they also had some sort of weapon they would be willing to use if necessary.

  The dark-skinned man coming toward the
m at an even pace was wearing a white shirt and had something under his arm. It didn’t seem to be a weapon. When he was within fifty feet of them, Katie saw that he was holding a chicken under his arm. The perplexing part was trying to figure out where he had come from and where he was going.

  “Jambo,” Jim called out.

  “Jambo.” The man grew closer. “You have some car troubles?”

  “Yes. We’re not sure what’s wrong. Can you tell me where you’ve come from? Is there a place up the road that might have a mechanic?”

  “Let me have a look.” He handed the chicken over to Jim as Eli popped open the car’s hood. The man leaned over and put his long fingers into the engine like a pianist would place both hands on the keys of a baby grand. He seemed to pull something here and attach something there.

  “Try it now.” He stood up straight and waited.

  Eli slipped inside the car, turned the key, and the engine started. Katie let out a cheer.

  “Did one of the wires or tubes shake loose?” Cheryl asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Asante sana.” Jim held the chicken back to him. “We’re so grateful.”

  The man held up his hand, calmly refusing to take back the chicken.

  “It’s your chicken. Here. We can’t accept this.”

  The man put up both hands. “Mpaji ni Mungu.”

  “Mpaji ni Mungu,” Eli and his parents responded in unison.

  The chicken fluffed up as if trying to get out of Jim’s grasp. “Here, Cheryl, you were always better with these things than I was.” Jim handed Cheryl the chicken, and with ease she tucked it under her arm as if it was a puffy, feathered handbag.

  Eli settled back into the driver’s seat and peered at the engine as it rumbled. “Dad, did you see what it was that needed to be reconnected?”

  “No, I was holding the hen.”

  The men looked at each other, and then Jim asked their timely visitor, “What was it that came loose?”

  All four of them looked up and looked around. Their morning mechanic was gone.

  “Where did he go?” Katie peered down the long, straight rural road in both directions.

  The four of them exchanged glances, their faces expressing the same look of amazement.

  In a matter-of-fact way, Jim said, “We shouldn’t keep the engine running. We can’t afford to waste the petrol. Let’s get going.”

  They took the same spots where they had slept last night. Eli drove.

  “What was that he said to you and that you guys repeated?” Katie asked.

  “It’s sort of a blessing,” Eli said. “Like the way people in the US say, ‘God bless.’ Here they say, ‘Mpaji ni Mungu.’ God is the sustainer.”

  The chicken remained under Cheryl’s arm in the backseat between her and Katie. Twice Katie turned around and looked behind them, expecting to see the man stepping out of the shrubbery that was scattered at intervals along the road and continuing his trek with his back to them. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  Now that they were back in closer quarters again and had the foul fowl to add to the fragrances, Katie remembered noticing something else about their unexpected roadside assistant. He smelled nice. That was unusual for someone who was in a remote area and had been walking some distance carrying the stinky chicken. He should have smelled more like the rest of them did. Instead, he smelled like fresh air.

  “I just have to say something,” Katie said after they were ten minutes down the road. “Does anyone else think that guy was an angel?”

  “Yup.”

  “Yes.”

  “I think so.”

  “Okay, just checking.” Katie looked out the window and let the profoundness of what had just happened sink in.

  14

  One of Kenya’s distinctives that Katie had come to adore was the light. As they journeyed the final two hours to the village, the morning light awakened the day with long shadowed contours that seemed like gentle fingers rousing the earth from its night’s sleep.

  Katie felt the warm light settling on her shoulders as the golden fingers stretched through the car’s back window. In front of them lay miles of dry red dirt, pale blue skies, and an occasional baobab tree posing like a great ancestor standing patiently under a wide, leafless umbrella. The familiar greens of the hill country were gone. No tea fields would thrive in this arid space.

  She reached for her water bottle and downed the last few sips. They had only one or two more bottles of water with them in the trunk, and she didn’t want to ask for any of that supply even though she was still thirsty. It made her realize how valuable clean water is in a remote place like this.

  Gazing out the window, Katie watched Africa go by. Everything in her wanted to ask, “How much farther?” but she resisted.

  She didn’t have to wait much longer. About two hours after their car was mysteriously and miraculously repaired, Eli turned down a side road and kicked up a cloud of dust behind them. Katie could see several huts just past the line of shrubs. Three barefoot boys came running toward the car, smiling, waving, and calling out to them. As soon as Eli turned off the engine and the dust settled, at least two dozen children had gathered around the car and were all talking at once, peering into the side windows.

  “Have you got the chicken?” Jim asked.

  “Yes. I’ll hand it over to you when we get outside.” Cheryl tucked the clucking hen under her arm and opened her door. The chatter of the welcoming committee rose, and it seemed as if a hundred arms with open hands were reaching for Cheryl at the same time.

  Eli turned around and looked at Katie. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. I’m not sure how to open my door, though, without hitting one of these kids.”

  “Slowly. Like this.” Eli experienced the same greeting his mom had. Dozens of hands touched him, and a stream of rising chatter surrounded him. Jim was already out of the car while Katie hesitated.

  As she cautiously opened the door, the cluster of children drew back just enough to make room for her. The moment she stepped out, the children around her seemed to take another step back as their eyes widened. They stared at Katie in silence for a moment.

  Then, as one, they rushed toward her, reaching out to touch her red hair. They called to the other children, and suddenly all the children in the welcoming committee were circling Katie, staring at her, and reaching out to touch her hair.

  “I forgot to warn you this might happen,” Eli said. “I doubt any of them have ever seen a redhead before. Are you doing okay?”

  Katie felt herself sliding into the moment with her whole heart. She leaned down so they could touch her hair and look into her green eyes and point at her, chattering like a bunch of chipmunks. Eli came up beside her and spoke to the children in Swahili. They responded eagerly, and he translated for Katie.

  “They want to know how you got all the spots on your skin.”

  “Do they mean my freckles?”

  Eli said something to the kids and pointed to the freckles on Katie’s bare arm. Some of them gave him doubtful looks. Others took on somber expressions of awe, while a few of them covered their mouths and giggled.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them that when you were born, God was so delighted that he sent a hundred angels to kiss you while you were in your mother’s arms. Every place where the angels kissed you, they left a tiny dot. That way, if you ever forget how greatly you are loved by God, all you have to do is look at your skin, and you will remember.”

  Katie was so touched by Eli’s fable, she felt her throat tighten. Several of the little girls in front of her were looking at their arms and legs and pointing out to each other where they thought they found an angel kiss on their skin.

  “We need to take our greetings to the chief,” Eli said. “You ready?”

  “Sure.” As soon as Katie started to walk with Eli and his parents toward the center of the village, a bunch of little girls reached for her hands as if they were s
elf-appointed special escorts. Other children circled her and Eli, and one little girl stretched her hand around Katie’s right wrist and held on tight.

  They entered the center of the village and were greeted by lots of adults who were sitting in the shade or coming out of their mud huts that were covered with roofs made of dry twigs and grass. From one of the larger huts, an elderly man emerged wearing a button-down shirt made from bright yellow and black printed fabric. He wore glasses and a pair of khaki shorts, but on his head was an intricate headdress made of feathers and beads.

  Jim greeted him in Swahili and gave a respectful nod of his head as they shook hands. Cheryl lowered her head as well and held out the chicken as a present, which the chief took with quiet words exchanged between the three of them. It seemed the chicken was the perfect gift to bring and was greatly appreciated.

  Jim introduced their son. Eli spoke in Swahili and dipped his chin to honor the chief. The two of them shook hands warmly. Then it was Katie’s turn. All the children let go and stepped back as Katie became the focus of the chief’s attention. He seemed to study her face and hair with fascination.

  “Jambo.” It was the only Swahili Katie knew. She hoped it was the right thing to say in a moment like this. When no one moved or said anything, she added, “Hakuna matata?”

  Eli gave her a signal that she should back away quickly and not try any more clever phrases.

  The chief moved his attention back to Jim and handed off the chicken to one of several women who were standing nearby. The two men walked away from the others as they talked together and headed for the shade of a large tree behind the chief’s hut.

  “What do we do now?” Katie asked.

  “Hang out for a while. After my dad gets the update, we’ll probably go to where the workers are finishing up the well, and if it’s done, we’ll have a short dedication ceremony.”

  “And then what?”

  “We’ll take it as it comes, Katie. Don’t worry. Hakuna matata.”