Some of the villagers dropped their heads—whether in rejection or in prayer, Natalie couldn’t be sure.
But as Dad and David recounted Anazu’s sermon to her again over supper that night, filling in the words and phrases she hadn’t understood, she felt certain that the Holy Spirit had moved in Timoné in a mighty way that day. She was humbled to have been a witness.
They finished their meal of donated food, and suddenly Natalie was overcome with exhaustion. Her head pounded from the stress of the last few days, and her throat felt tight with emotion, yet she couldn’t bear to leave this celebration table. She poured one last round of cazho and sat at the table with the men as they told the story yet one more time.
Thirty–Seven
When the meal was over, Natalie started clearing off the table. Dad and David rose to help her. Dad picked up a bowl of leftover rice, yawning loudly. “I’m going to go put this in the fridge, and then if you two don’t mind, I think I’m going to turn in early and leave the rest of the dishes to you.”
“Sure,” Natalie said. “Good night, Dad.”
David suddenly seemed uneasy, fidgeting while Natalie fixed the dishwater and Nate gathered his things. After her father had gone, David stood beside Natalie, bent over the dishpan that sat on the crude table on which they’d dined.
She watched him from the corner of her eye, as he handed her dishes to dry without speaking. She knew he had a lot on his mind, but something seemed to be bothering him—something more than the hardships they’d just endured.
It had been an exhausting few days, trying to right the havoc inflicted by the raid on the village. Thankfully, the two natives who had gone to Conzalez reported that the Middletons were safe. According to their report, the guerrillas had left Conzalez when their co-conspirators returned from Timoné. Hank and Meghan had been miraculously unharmed, but when the rebels left Conzalez, they had taken with them the Middletons’ radio and other supplies—and, most devastating, their airplane. But they hoped to have another plane there from Bogotá within the week.
The day after tomorrow David would be leaving for San José to begin the overwhelming task of replacing their supplies. A small party from the two missions would fly to San José, then on to Bogotá if they deemed it necessary.
David handed Natalie the last plate to dry, took his hands out of the dishwater, and stretched to his full height. “Man,” he moaned, kneading the small of his back. “I’m going to have to find something higher to put the dishpan on.”
“Is your back hurting you again?” Natalie asked, tipping her head to look up at him.
“A little,” he said. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.” He picked up the dishpan and walked a few steps to toss the dishwater on the little plot of vegetables Natalie had planted beside the clinic.
“Oh, sure,” she teased as he walked back toward her, “a good night’s sleep on that soft, cushy mattress of yours. You know, you’re lucky the guerrillas didn’t cart that off.”
He grinned. “Let me tell you, I was mighty happy to see that it was still there after those boys left.”
She turned serious. “But I bet you would have gladly let them have it if they’d left your laptop behind.”
Avoiding her eyes, he nodded. “You’ve got that right.” He plopped down at the table, rested his elbows on the rough surface, and propped his chin on his hands.
She took a stool across from him. “How far behind did this put you?”
“Well, thank goodness, I had everything backed up—and they didn’t take the disks. But even after we replace the computer—which could take weeks with all the travel—I’ll still have to reload all the software, transfer my files …” He sighed heavily, puffing out his bearded cheeks and looking very vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” she said, putting a comforting hand on his arm.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, pulling away, ostensibly to slap at a mosquito on his other arm. “You’d better get inside,” he told her, “before the bugs eat you alive.”
“You know, I hardly notice them anymore.”
“I wish I could say the same.” He slapped at another insect and rose to go. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He gave a halfhearted wave and disappeared into the encroaching darkness before she could find her voice.
“Okay,” she whispered to the empty air. “Good night, David.”
What was wrong with her? She should have known better than to bring up the topic of his stolen computer and lost work hours. She’d meant to give him an outlet for venting his frustrations. She’d hoped to cheer him up. But obviously she’d done exactly the opposite.
She gathered up the clean dishes and carried them into the clinic. Locking the door behind her, she walked across the yard to her utta. As she climbed the ladder-steep stairs, fatigue overcame her. Her muscles ached and her head throbbed. Poor David, she thought, as she got ready for bed. How discouraging it must be to have made so much progress, only to have those hours stolen away. Yet, as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement. She didn’t think David was aware of the progress that she was making in her own study of the Timoné dialect. Maybe she could help—really help—this time.
She had to admit that it would be a joy to work with the man. She laughed softly into the darkness, thinking how crazy that statement would have sounded in her ears a few short months ago!
David Chambers lay tossing and turning in his bed, in spite of the soft, cushy mattress Natalie had given him such a hard time about. Natalie. Oh, how she was complicating his life. Besides the fact that she reminded him of the whole mess with Lily, he could scarcely concentrate on his work with her around. Or even with her not around. She seemed to invade his thoughts when he was away from the village in San José or Conzalez.
As the thoughts formed in his mind, he knew he was being irrational. And unfair. Natalie had contributed much to the mission—not the least of which was a decent pot of coffee. It wasn’t her fault that she drove him to distraction.
He threw off the thin blanket and sat up on the side of the bed. This could not go on. Tonight when Natalie had touched him, it was all he could do not to take her in his arms and kiss her. He had to get a grip on his emotions before he did something foolish.
“Is Natalie around?” Purposefully Nate closed the door to the office.
David looked up from the word list that had begun to blur in front of his eyes. “I think she’s in the chapel.”
Nate cleared his throat, and David waited expectantly.
“I want to talk to you about something, Dave.”
He put his pencil down and leaned back in his chair. “Sure. Shoot.”
“I want to send Natalie back with you when you go to San José tomorrow.”
“She wants to leave?” His heart started pounding erratically.
“No. I— I haven’t told her yet. I’ve been wrestling with this for days, but I’ve made a decision. She’s probably not going to like it.”
“I’m just glad I don’t have to be the one to tell her.” He tried to affect a wry smile, but the muscles in his face weren’t cooperating.
“What happened last week was too close for comfort,” Nate went on. “I could never forgive myself if anything happened to Natalie. I know you may get to Conzalez and find out that things have settled down, but I’m not willing to take that risk with Nattie. I need you to help make arrangements to get her a flight back to Bogotá—and call her mother about getting her a connecting flight back to the States.”
David nodded. “Okay.” He looked down at the desk, then back up at Nate. “What if we get to Conzalez and they still don’t have a plane?”
“I realize that’s a possibility. I want you to take enough provisions to go all the way to San José by boat if you have to. Plane or no, we’ve got to replace the radio and the computer and restock our supplies.”
David whistled under his breath. Nathan had no idea what he was aski
ng of him. “That’s … a hard trip.” He scuffed the toe of his boot hard on the floor. “Do you … think Natalie is up to it?”
Nate sighed. “I don’t think Natalie is going to be up to leaving, period. But I’m not giving her a choice. I promised her mother that I’d take care of her, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You mean that’s what I’m going to do.” David’s words came out harsh and accusing, born of an irrational fear that had begun to grow in his mind. How in the world was he going to spend even one day alone on a boat with Natalie Camfield?
Nate stared at him, a puzzled expression on his face. Finally he shook his head. “I’m sorry, David. I know it’s asking a lot. But one of us needs to stay here, and it makes no sense for me to go. I wouldn’t know the first thing about replacing the computer. If my life depended on it, I wouldn’t know how to get the files you need to—download or upload, or whatever it is you do with them.”
David sighed. There was going to be no getting out of this. The Timoné could do without a translator far more easily than they could do without a doctor right now.
“I’m putting a lot off on you, I know,” Nate repeated now. “Someone needs to check on Hank and Meg, make sure things are still going okay there.” He stopped midstride and looked hard at David, as though gauging how this plan was going over, then forged ahead. “You probably would have been looking at going on into Bogotá anyway, Dave. So it’s not like that’s above and beyond just because of Natalie—”
David held up a hand to silence him. “I’ll do it, Nate. You know I couldn’t very well say no.”
“I know that. But I’m grateful nevertheless.”
His smile was wry but genuine now—in spite of his growing apprehension. “You owe me big time, buddy.”
“I won’t forget that.”
“When are you going to tell her?”
Nate headed for the door. “Right now. Pray for me.”
“You’ll need it.”
David watched through the window as Nate walked up the incline toward the chapel. He put his elbows on his desk and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, Father,” he whispered, “I’m the one who needs prayer.”
Thirty–Eight
The waters of the Rio Guaviare overflowed its banks, and still the rains fell. Natalie Camfield huddled under a coarsely woven blanket beneath the tattered Bimini top of the pontoon boat. Damp and shivering in spite of the tropical air, she was still so angry she could scarcely think straight.
She had never liked having people make decisions for her—even when she was a little girl—but it especially rankled her now that she was a grown woman. She had felt a calling to Timoné—a calling she was sure of. She had worked hard to prove that she could be an asset to the mission. She was just beginning to make real progress with the language and felt on the brink of truly being a help to David with the translating work.
With one sentence, her father had crushed every dream, changed every plan, robbed her of her one chance to make a difference, her one opportunity to atone for what her life had been before.
She had tried to explain all that to him. She had begged and cried. But in the end, none of it made a whit of difference. And now here she was on the vessel that would take her away from her father, away from a people she had come to love. Away from the thing God had called her to do. And away from David. Possibly forever.
As though her thoughts had summoned him, David Chambers left his place beside Juan Miguel, the boat’s copper-skinned pilot. David poked his head under the canopy, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you okay?”
She grunted noncommittally, suspecting that David had encouraged her father’s decision to exile her from Timoné.
He started to walk away, but instead ducked and came to sit beside her under the mildewed awning, the only shelter the craft offered from the downpour.
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
“You’d think we were on a sleigh ride the way you’re bundled up.”
She shrugged. “I’m fine.”
He started to say something, then rose to leave. But a minute later he was back, sitting across from her on the built-in bench seat. “Natalie,” he started, scuffing his boot on the deck, “I know you’re not happy about being here. But I know your father. He would never have sent you back if he wasn’t convinced it was the right thing to do.”
She made a sound between a snort and a harrumph.
“Believe me, it was a sacrifice for him to let you go.”
“He didn’t let me go,” she shot back. “He made me go.”
“Because it’s too dangerous right now. And because he loves you.”
“He treats me like a child!”
“You are a child.”
She glowered at him. “Is that what you think?”
“I only know what I see.”
She narrowed her eyes and drew back her shoulders. “Then look again, David Chambers. I am twenty-two years old, and—” To her dismay, her voice broke and she dissolved into tears, sobbing like the child he’d accused her of being.
He sat silent, waiting for her tears to subside.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, wiping her cheeks on a corner of the rough blanket. “You’re right. I’m acting like a baby.” She sat up straighter and looked him in the eye. “Oh, David … I loved my life in Timoné. It was my home. And I know God called me there. I know he did.”
He was quiet, and she tried to read his face. “You don’t believe me?” she challenged.
“That’s not for me to say. That has to be between you and God.” He stroked his beard. “But I think maybe God interrupts our callings at times. For our own safety, or for a time of spiritual growth. Maybe that’s what this is about for you, Nattie.”
He rarely used her family’s pet name for her, but now it warmed her heart somehow. She sat quietly thinking about what he’d said. He was looking out over the water now. The rain had let up, and the air between them was static, the only sounds the hum of the boat’s motor, the soft slosh of water against the hull, and the usual cacophony of the jungle’s denizens from the overgrown banks that flanked them. Finally the clouds dissipated, and Natalie peeked from under the canopy, craning her neck to see where the sun was positioned in the sky. “What time is it anyway?”
David turned his wrist over, glancing at his watch. “We’ll be at Conzalez in another hour. It’s almost noon.” He looked at his wrist again and shook his head in amazement. “It seems impossible that July is half gone,” he commented.
“It’s funny,” she told him. “The calendar doesn’t seem so important here. I lose track of time. I don’t even know what day it is.”
“It’s the sixteenth.”
July 16. Sara’s birthday.
She must have gasped at the remembrance because David gave her a strange look. “What’s wrong?”
“My— My friend’s birthday is today.”
“I can send an e-mail for you when I get to San José. It’ll only be a couple of days late—unless we run into trouble at Conzalez.”
She shook her head. “No. Sara … well, she died. I meant today would have been her birthday.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” After a few awkward seconds, he surprised her by asking, “Is this—the friend who was killed in your accident?”
Her accident. Did he know how apt that was? She nodded, a lump coming to her throat. She’d never talked to David about Sara, though she suspected he knew her story, since Dad had left Timoné to be with her during that time.
“Anniversaries are rough, aren’t they?”
She looked into his eyes. A part of her was touched, but mostly she was afraid that his sympathy would make her cry again, and then they’d both be embarrassed. “Yeah, well, everything about Sara’s death is rough,” she said, purposely putting a hard edge in her voice.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Do you— Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to say,
” she told him. “Dad probably told you about the accident.”
“A little. We prayed for you a lot during that time.”
“Thank you.” Again her throat grew tight. “It was my fault. I was driving drunk.”
He nodded. “I know.”
She felt guilty that she’d gone all day without even remembering Sara’s birthday. She knew Sara’s parents and her brother had not forgotten. The tears came now, and she turned away.
“It’s okay to cry, you know,” David said.
That only made her cry harder.
“I’m sorry about what happened, Natalie. I’m sure it was a very hard thing to go through.”
Her voice was a whisper when she answered, and she was speaking as much to herself as she was to David, “Sara was the sweetest girl you’d ever meet. She loved God with all her heart, and she— She made a difference in the lives of everyone she ever knew.”
Natalie stared out at the murky brown waters of the Guaviare. “And it’s my fault that she’s dead. I was rebellious and stubborn. I’m the one who deserved to die. But instead God took Sara.”
She put her head in her hands, suddenly not caring if he saw her cry. “Oh, David, I’ve made such a mess of my life. And just when I was doing something that might really make a difference, just when I had a chance to make it all up … then this happens.”
He eyed her, his head tilted to one side. “Is that what your coming to Timoné meant to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was Timoné supposed to be your salvation? Your redemption?” He seemed astonished.
She sat looking at him, almost afraid for him to explain.
“Natalie, let me ask you a question. Have you been forgiven for what happened with Sara?”
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