The afternoon light was fading. Nathan Camfield moved out of his own shadow to the other side of the crude examination table where his patient lay. He peered into the bloodshot eye, trying to determine the cause of the irritation.
The elderly man was hard of hearing, so Nate had to shout the question three times before the man understood. “Andres, pir aurdo? Where does it hurt?”
But before Andres could do more than nod, a shrill cry pierced the air outside the hut.
The old man bolted upright and slid off the table, and he and Nathan went to gaze out the window of the medical clinic. A boy of about ten raced into the clearing, screaming Dr. Nate’s name. In front of him, as though it were a snake, he carried a bag fashioned of coarse cloth and tied with a length of jute. It was clear from his bulging eyes that he was terrified of whatever was inside.
Nate signaled for his patient to stay put, and he ran outside to meet the boy. “What’s wrong?” he asked in Timoné. “What’s in the bag?”
The boy untied the bag and opened it to reveal the lifeless body of a small bat. From the child’s breathless explanation, Nate gathered that the creature had bitten the boy’s sister while they were playing in the trees. The boy had managed to capture the animal when it became entangled in his sister’s hair. But now apparently there was swelling at the site of the bite, and his sister was having some sort of seizure and struggling to catch her breath.
Nate grabbed his medical bag from just inside the door and descended the steps two at a time. With the young boy in his shadow, he ran the short distance to the mission office, hollering for David Chambers as he crossed the stream.
Chambers appeared on the stoop of the hut. “What happened?”
“His sister was bitten,” Nate shouted, indicating the boy. “I’ve got a patient waiting at the clinic. Can you explain and tell him to come back after supper? You’ll have to speak up. He’s very hard of hearing.”
“Go,” David told him, already sprinting toward the clinic.
Nate told the Timoné boy to take him to where his sister was and tore off across the village, easily keeping up with the lad. He led Nate to the family’s hut where the mother sat in the doorway cradling a little girl who looked to be about four years old. The mother wailed and moaned while the child convulsed in her arms. A small crowd of neighbors were gathered around watching the drama unfold.
Nate climbed the ladder, knelt to examine the girl. The boy pointed to the soft flesh on his sister’s shoulder where the bat had sunk its teeth. The tiny slits in her skin were barely visible now because the area surrounding the bite had swollen to the size of a small apple. Apparently she’d had a severe allergic reaction to the bite. “What is her name?” Nate asked, lifting the child from her mother’s arms.
“Zari,” the woman breathed, wringing her hands.
Nate carried her into the fresh air. He laid her out on the stoop and began to work over her, but within seconds she stopped breathing. Frantically, Nate performed CPR and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, while the mother prayed loudly to Jesu on her daughter’s behalf.
The toddler resumed breathing on her own once, only to begin convulsing again. But finally, Nate was able to get an antihistamine into her and stabilize her. Within minutes, little Zari had calmed down and was breathing normally.
When he placed the little girl back in her mother’s arms, the woman smiled through her tears and looked heavenward. “Égracita, Jesu!” she cried.
“Yes,” Nate agreed. “Thank you, Jesus.” He knelt beside the woman, placed his hand on the child’s head and prayed in Timoné. “Father in heaven, thank you that you love little Zari. Thank you for making her well. Thank you for giving her brother swift feet. Please bring Zari quickly back to perfect health. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Zari’s mother smiled her thanks, and when Nate felt certain the child was out of danger, he trudged through the village back to the clinic to make sure Andres had gone home. The sun was sinking quickly, and David Chambers had closed everything up for the night. Nate walked back to his hut, bone-tired.
As he walked, he gave thanks. To his knowledge, the child’s mother was not a Christian convert, yet she had prayed in Jesu’s name, and God had answered. Nate knew that by this time tomorrow night, the woman’s testimony of Jesu’s provision would have spread throughout the village.
He climbed the stairs of his stilted hut and plopped down on the stoop, swinging his legs absently over the side. Grateful, but exhausted, he wasn’t sure he could even summon the energy to fix himself something to eat tonight.
Suddenly remembering the e-mail David Chambers had brought back from San José del Guaviare this morning, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the creased, water-stained paper. He had not had one extra minute today to read the post. He unfolded it and smoothed out the rumpled sheet with burn-scarred fingers. It was from Daria, dated just one week ago. He read it through once. Then he read it again, trying to make the meaning of the words register.
Dear Nate,
I’m so sorry to have to send you bad news again, but there’s been a new development in the whole situation with Natalie since her car accident. Unfortunately, we didn’t have all the facts at the time I wrote. Apparently, Natalie has been keeping the truth from us, and it only came out a few days ago when she received a summons from the county attorney. Even though Nattie’s driving didn’t actually cause the accident, tests they took at the hospital that night show that she had been drinking before it happened, and now she has been charged with DUI.
She will appear before the judge in county court next Tuesday to be arraigned. They are telling us that the system is so clogged that it can sometimes take months to get a court date. We just pray that it will all be resolved before she’s supposed to be at college.
It’s been difficult enough for Natalie to accept that Sara is gone, but the guilt she’s feeling because she was driving after she’d been drinking that night is eating her alive.
I feel sorry for her, and yet, to be honest, Nate, I’m so angry with her for lying to us and for getting into this mess in the first place, that it’s hard to know how to handle this.
We’ve hired Dennis Chastain to represent Natalie. As you can imagine, he has been very helpful.
Nate’s pulse quickened at this distressing news, and his thoughts took him back to another courtroom—a long-ago day that had sealed his separation from Daria and from Natalie forever. It had, in the end, been a seal of his own choosing, and Dennis Chastain had been instrumental in turning their crucible into something they could all live with—even something that God had used for good. He located his place on the page and continued reading.
Dennis tells us that Natalie will probably get probation, but he’s warned us that she will almost certainly have to serve some jail time—probably no more than forty-eight hours. He says the most likely scenario is that she’ll be put on probation for a year, and, of course, she’ll have to pay the fine and attend some kind of drug-and-alcohol counseling, and maybe do some community service. Oh, Nate, this all looks so cold and clinical on my computer screen. Our hearts are broken over this, and I know yours will be too. I don’t know what else to say.
Since she confessed the truth to us, Nattie has become so withdrawn and depressed that I’m truly worried about her. The Devers (Sara’s parents) have been wonderful and have completely forgiven her—even after finding out about her drinking that night—but Nattie can’t seem to forgive herself.
I’m so sorry, Nate, to have to put this all on you. I know the last thing you need when you’re so far away is to be burdened with something like this, but I knew you would want to know.
I will let you know the minute we find out her court date. Thank you for your continued prayers.
Love,
Daria
Nate looked up from the page, fixing his gaze on some unseen object in the distance. Tears filled his eyes, as he thought of his little girl standing before a judge and being sentenced f
or such a serious charge. Why hadn’t Natalie told them the truth in the first place? He couldn’t help but wonder if the angst his daughter suffered was—at least in part—a result of his absence from her life. If he’d been able to be a true father to her, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
He shook off the festering emotions before they erupted. He’d been over the regrets, the what-ifs, too many times to count. There was no use in rehashing them. What had happened with Daria all those years ago was done. It was inevitable that there would be some repercussions. He had done what was best under the circumstances, he reminded himself. What was important now was to help Natalie.
He folded the paper and tucked it reverently into the pocket of his cotton shirt. Resting his elbows on his knees, his forehead on the palms of his hands, he sought God’s direction. After many long minutes, he lifted his head and rubbed his face with a heavy sigh.
Jumping down from the stoop, he started across the village toward the mission office. God willing, he would be able to radio Bogotá yet this evening and arrange for Gospel Outreach headquarters to get him a flight back to the States. He only hoped the airstrip in San José would be clear when he got there, given the rumors of sporadic guerrilla raids in the area.
Nate’s heart beat with a sense of urgency. Yet strangely he sensed more purpose in this mission than he’d felt in any task for a long while.
Daria had the windows open. A brisk night breeze rustled the newspaper and a stack of bills and letters that were spread out on the kitchen table. Cole was attending a veterinarians’ meeting in Kansas City, and Natalie and Noelle were already in bed for the night, but Daria was killing time while she waited for Cole and Nikki to get home. Ever since Natalie’s accident, she hadn’t been able to rest easy until her family was safely in bed for the night.
Jon Dever was home from college on winter break, and Nikki had begged to spend every possible minute with him during this last week that he would be in town. They’d been lenient, even letting her stay out late on school nights, knowing it would be two months before Jon might be home again.
Once more Daria whispered a prayer of gratitude that the whole mess with Natalie hadn’t come between Nikki and Jon. In spite of their reservations about Nicole getting so serious about a boy at such a young age, she and Cole already loved Jon like a son. Daria thought it was a testimony to the two teenagers’ maturity that they had weathered this crisis so well; if anything, they’d become even closer. She had little doubt now that Nicole and Jon would end up getting married.
It would have all been perfect if not for the tragedy of Sara’s death and the part Natalie had played in it.
Daria’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car on the gravel drive. She glanced at the clock. It was not quite eleven. Sighing, she pushed back her chair and stood to look out the window. Cole’s car slowed and stopped in front of the garage while he waited for the door to glide up.
A minute later he came through the kitchen door, looking surprised to see her. “Hey, babe. You still up?” He leaned to kiss her.
“Nikki’s not home yet,” she told him.
Cole looked at his watch, worry creasing his brow.
“Remember, you gave her till 11:30 tonight,” Daria reminded him, sitting back down at the table.
He sighed and shook his head as though he regretted his decision now. But apparently resigned, he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the back of a chair.
“Man, it’s freezing in here,” he exclaimed, looking around the room. “Why do you have all the windows open?”
“I don’t know. It seemed stuffy. I’ll close them.” She started to get up, but Cole interrupted her.
“I’ve got it.” He shut each window and straightened the curtains, then came to sit across the table from her.
“Do you want some tea?” she asked. “The kettle’s still on.”
“Sure. I can make it. You want some more?”
She nodded and held out the ceramic mug she’d used earlier.
“Nattie and Noelle are home?”
“Safe and sound.”
He brought two steaming cups over to the table and sat down. “How’s Nattie doing?”
“I don’t know. The same, I guess.”
He put his head down, ostensibly blowing to cool his tea, but she could see that he was troubled. She reached across the table and put a hand on his arm. “She’ll get through it, Cole. We all will.” She wished she believed her own words.
He shook his head. “I just don’t know what to say to her. She shuts me out.”
“It’s not just you, babe. She shuts everybody out.”
“I miss the little girl who calls me ‘Daddy,’ ” he said, his voice breaking.
He looked up, and the pain Daria saw in his eyes broke her heart. She pushed back her chair and went to him, standing behind his chair, wrapping her arms around him, leaning down to put her cheek against his. He took her hands in his and squeezed. They were still that way a minute later when the back door flew open and Nikki and Jon burst in.
“Hey, you two, break it up,” Nikki teased, throwing her purse on the counter.
“Oh, you’re home.” Daria disentangled herself from Cole’s embrace and tried to hide the emotions that were so close to the surface. “How was your evening?”
“Good,” Jon said. “We’ve just been hanging out at my house. We were going to go to Wichita, but Mom kind of wanted us to eat with them, and then it got late.”
“So, you’re heading back tomorrow?” Cole asked.
“Yeah, back to the grind.”
“Well, don’t study too hard,” Cole said wryly.
Jon shrugged and started toward the door. “Well, I’d better get going.” He dipped his head politely and waved. “See you guys in a couple of months.”
Nikki followed him out the door, and when she came back a few minutes later there were tears in her eyes.
“Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow,” Cole teased, with a thespian hand to his chest.
“Quit it, Daddy,” Nicole pouted, but she punched him playfully.
Cole grabbed her arm and wrestled her into a bear hug. “Guess you’ll just have to spend more time with your boring ol’ dad now.”
Their affectionate exchange touched Daria’s heart, but at the same time it hurt. She would have given anything for Cole to have the same close relationship with Natalie. And he would have if Natalie hadn’t pushed him away.
Nicole kissed them both good night and went up to bed. While Daria put their dishes in the sink, Cole turned off the lights and locked the doors. They walked through the mundane comfort of routine that had underpinned their marriage for almost two decades now. But as they fell asleep in each other’s arms, Daria couldn’t help but feel that the tranquil life they cherished was about to come further unraveled.
Fifteen
The sun rose high in the sky on a clear January morning one month before Natalie Camfield’s nineteenth birthday. She crawled out of bed and went through the motions of getting ready for school, but the unseasonably balmy air was no antidote for the heaviness in her heart.
Eight weeks from now she would appear before a judge in the same courtroom she’d once visited on a seventh-grade field trip. How naive she’d been on that long ago day, pretending with Sara to be high-powered lawyers, and then taking turns playing the judge, never imagining that one day she would stand on the criminal side of the bench, accused of an act that had ultimately ended in Sara’s death. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach.
She went down to the kitchen. She shook cornflakes into a bowl and sliced a banana over the top. Absently opening the local morning paper, her heart lurched when her eyes came to rest on the Court Report. The two-column article shouted the news in twelve-point type. The charge against her—DUI—and the date for her sentencing had been published for the whole world to see. Her shame and humiliation were complete now.
She shoved the newspaper into the recycling bin in the mudro
om and went back up to her room and lay down on top of the quilt on her bed. Of course, the news of her DUI charge had gotten around school weeks ago, but once that first day of whispers and stares was over, everyone had seemed as sympathetic and forgiving as they had right after the accident happened. She was grateful for their kindness, yet it hadn’t seemed right. She deserved the shame.
But now it was in the paper for Grandma and Grandpa Haydon and all of Mom and Daddy’s friends to see. She hadn’t just shamed herself, but her entire family would be publicly disgraced because of what she’d done. Natalie knew Mom had called Grandma and Grandpa Camfield to tell them. She hadn’t had to face her grandparents since then, but she couldn’t put it off forever. They’d felt sorry for her when they’d thought she was the victim of a terrible, fatal accident. What must they think now?
Natalie was still lying on the bed, dressed for school, when Noelle stuck her head into the room. “Natalie, hurry up! Nikki says she’s leaving without us.”
Nicole was driving since Daddy had decreed that Natalie could not drive until she’d completed whatever sentence the court imposed. Though she understood why he’d done it, it was an added indignity in this whole mess.
“I’m not going today,” she told Noelle now.
Noelle stepped into the room. “What’s wrong, Nattie?” she asked. Noelle’s sweet concern tugged at something inside Natalie.
“Come here, Noey,” Natalie said, sitting up on the side of the bed. “It was in the paper this morning. My— My DUI.”
“Oh,” Noelle said, her face falling.
Natalie’s heart twisted, realizing that her sisters, too, would have to face all over again the humiliation that the morning newspaper announced.
“I can’t go to school,” she told her sister. “I just can’t. And I really do feel kind of sick.”
Noelle nodded, her unblemished face pale and ever innocent. “You want me to tell Mom?”
Natalie shook her head. “I’ll tell her. Just go on … before Nikki really does leave you.”
After the Rains Page 12