Despite a full night’s sleep, Talisa was exhausted. The day had been long and there didn’t appear to be an ending anywhere in sight. The morning had started with a two-hour history session about the country, then the minister and his staff had warned them against traveling north toward Sudan, where rebels were committing heinous crimes against civilians. Duly noted, Talisa had reiterated to her group the importance of none of them ever traveling unaccompanied and without letting her, or Reverend Oloya, know where they intended to venture. The rest of the day had been a whirlwind of activity, so much so that Talisa could barely remember one point from another.
Nakasero, the residential area where the embassy sat, wasn’t much different from any other upscale community in the United States. There was an energy that resounded through the streets of Kampala, a direct reflection of the culture’s growth and thriving independence. They’d been driven to Gaba, where the waters of Lake Victoria had seemed to welcome their arrival. Colorful boats sat invitingly against the dark waters. The shoreline was a wealth of nonstop activity. Black men were auctioning the morning’s catch to fishmongers near the lake’s shore, baskets overflowing with tilapias and Nile perch. Not far from the activity of buying and selling, the women were smoking meals of fish and fresh vegetables under heavy brick structures.
They’d traveled the road from Kampala to Jinja, stopping to admire the lush green landscape of the tea plantations that lay like thick blankets atop the rich, dark earth. In Jinja, they’d noted the dilapidated homes that had once housed Uganda’s wealthy, now only empty, stagnant structures that looked out over the Nile.
Talisa had actually cried at the edge of the river Nile where bare-breasted women cleansed themselves and their laundry, children splashing in play in the cool waters. One of the students had asked for prayer and so they’d all stood in a circle, hand in hand, heads bowed as Clarissa led them in litany.
Talisa was grateful for the assortment of cameras that had captured the sights; memories she could reflect back on at a later time, in a different place. Her only memories at that moment were the stares and gazes of the women and children who would never know the privileged lifestyles she and her students took for granted. The van was quiet. Everyone was lost in deep reflection as Talisa stared out over the landscape. She was struck by how alone she suddenly felt.
“We’re here,” Reverend Oloya called out to them, pointing toward the village that was awaiting their arrival. Talisa leaped up to see a circular enclave of thatched roof huts, bordered by fields of sugar cane and manioc, a fruit much like the tropical cassava root. As they slid out of the automobile, a crowd was gathered in the center of the village and they were greeted with the excruciating screams of a small child in pain. Children were racing about as if lost and the women were wailing at the top of their lungs.
Reverend Oloya pushed his way to the center of the commotion, Talisa close behind him. The young girl was writhing on the ground, clutching her protruding abdomen as intense hurt contorted her face. The child’s mother was beside herself, pleading in Bantu for someone to help them.
“There is a doctor at the orphanage down the road,” Reverend Oloya shouted to Talisa.
Instinctively, Talisa tossed her tote to one of the young adults in her party and reached for the child, lifting the little girl into her arms. Her legs seemed to have a mind of their own as they propelled her straight toward the vehicle, Reverend Oloya and the crying mother close on her heels.
It was a short drive and as they entered the gates of the Home of Compassion Orphanage, Talisa’s heart was racing. She brushed at the tears on the toddler’s face, cooing softly into the small person’s ear.
“Hold on, baby. Help is coming, sweetheart,” Talisa murmured under her breath.
As Reverend Oloya pulled open the car door, another man rushed from nowhere to guide them to the clinic. The child’s mother was still moaning and crying, words spewing out in her native tongue. Talisa understood the woman’s grief, but had no understanding of what she was trying to tell them.
“This is Peter Colleu,” Reverend Oloya said, the quick introduction meant only to ease the anxiety racing between them. “Peter, this is Talisa London, visiting with us from America. She is leading the mission team that will be lending you their services.”
The man nodded politely. “Thank you. I’m sorry that your arrival is marred with sudden trauma.”
Talisa could only nod her head, the weight of the ailing child bearing heavy on her shoulders and her spirit.
“This way. Our doctor is inside.”
The strong smell of antiseptic greeted them in the entrance. Inside the white concrete building, a very tall, very elegant black woman guided them into an examination room. Talisa barely noticed the doctor who stood with his back to them as he pulled instruments and syringes from a locked cabinet. His tone was firm and commanding as he barked out orders and asked questions.
“What happened?” he queried from behind her, turning just as Talisa leaned down to cradle the child against the examination table.
The man named Peter answered as he and Reverend Oloya stood in the doorway, his arm wrapped consolingly around the mother’s shoulder. Glancing up, it was the first time that Talisa noticed how young she was, her exquisite, deep chocolate complexion creased with worry.
“The mother says the child hasn’t been well for a few days. She won’t eat and last night she started screaming in pain. The mother walked all night to bring her to our village.”
The doctor pushed Talisa aside as he began his exam, spinning her to stand against the wall behind him. So intent on his work, the man didn’t even bother to focus a gaze on her, almost oblivious to her presence. Talisa eased out of the way as she watched him work on the child, the other woman following his orders effortlessly. His palm pressed gently against the child’s stomach. The baby screamed and the doctor reached for a syringe, filling it with medication that he quickly injected into the little girl’s arm. Talisa could sense him counting to himself as he stalled, waiting for the pain medication to take effect. Talisa found herself counting silently herself.
The second time the doctor pressed hard against the child’s stomach, there were no screams, barely a whimper from the child. And just as quickly the little girl ceased crying, her gaze flickering back and forth in interest across the man’s face. From where she stood, Talisa could see the child smile ever so slightly and she sensed the man must have smiled first as he stared down at her. They all stood in anxious anticipation for his diagnosis.
“What’s her name?” the doctor asked, looking up for the first time, his eyes locking on the adults standing in the doorway.
Peter repeated the question in Bantu.
The mother answered, her fingers twisting nervously in front of her. “Juji.”
The doctor nodded. “Juji has an abdominal hernia. There is a small hole in her stomach muscle and her intestines became trapped. I’ve pushed it back in but I’m going to have to operate to repair it, otherwise it will only happen again.”
“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Talisa asked, speaking out loud for the first time.
Turning an about face in her direction, Jericho Becton saw her for the first time. Recognition wafted like a current of electricity between them and both stared in disbelief.
“Yes,” Jericho finally answered, his excitement seeping like a tidal wave of water from his glazed eyes. “Yes, Miss London. She’ll be just fine.”
Talisa grinned. A rush of color warmed the brown tones of her complexion, the tint of red flushing her cheeks. “Thank you, Dr. Becton. That’s very good news.”
Chapter 10
Talisa sat patiently in the clinic’s waiting room. She had no idea of the time, but was certain that at least two hours had passed since the surgery had begun. Juji’s mother had crawled onto a corner of the wooden bench against the other wall and had fallen into a deep sleep, forty-eight hours of sheer exhaustion overcoming her. Talisa had searched out a bl
anket from the clinic’s sparse supply cabinet and had wrapped it snugly around the woman’s lean frame.
Her own eyelids were heavy, beginning to get the best of her. Images of the handsome doctor had occupied her mind since he’d greeted her, the two of them offering a quick explanation to the others about the nature of their acquaintance. When he’d asked her to wait with Juji’s mother, she’d nodded willingly, not bothering to pause for a second thought. She was finally succumbing to the burden of exhaustion that pressed heavy against her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, the pattern of her breathing shifting gears toward slumber.
Jericho came to a stop in the doorway, watching as Talisa fought to keep her eyes open, losing the battle as she sank lower in her seat. She was breathtaking in the simple white blouse and khaki trousers that fit her nicely. He was in awe, unable to comprehend how the exquisite creature could actually be there. Talisa London was so close that he could smell the light essence of vanilla in her perfume, the aroma of fragrance scenting the air around her. He heaved a deep sigh, a heavy shiver coursing through his bloodstream. Pulling the green surgical cap from the top of his head, he moved to take the seat beside her, brushing his palms against the matching green surgical scrubs he wore.
Jericho pressed a warm palm lightly against Talisa’s knee, gently stroking the flesh beneath her cotton slacks. The woman jumped with a start, her gaze flickering with disorientation until focus finally settled on Jericho’s smiling face. Talisa smiled back, her hand moving over her mouth as she tried to suppress a yawn with her palm.
“Excuse me,” she whispered, her voice low so as not to wake the sleeping woman.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jericho whispered back.
“How’s Juji?”
“Sleeping. That one’s a fighter. We probably won’t be able to keep her still when she wakes up.”
A pregnant silence suddenly filled the space between them as they both continued smiling nervously.
“What are you doing here?” Jericho finally asked. “And why didn’t you return my telephone calls?”
“I’m so sorry. My mother forgot to give me your first messages and by the time she remembered, your office said you were gone. What are you doing here?”
“Volunteering. I came to help my friend Peter and his wife get this clinic operating. Now back to you. What are you doing in Uganda?”
“I’m here with a college work team. We’re here on an eight-week, church-related, missions program.”
Jericho nodded with approval as he processed the knowledge that not only was Talisa there in the flesh, but that she would be there for an extended period of time. He glanced down at this watch, the hands on the timepiece approaching the midnight hour.
“I can’t believe I’ve kept you here this long. Have you eaten? Are you hungry?” Questions raced a mile a minute from Jericho’s mouth.
Talisa smiled, the warmth of the gesture suddenly stalling the man’s words. “Thank you, but I’m too exhausted to be hungry. It’s been a long day.”
“You can stay here if you’d like. We’ve got a few empty beds in the back.”
“Well…” Talisa hesitated. Certain that most in the village compound were probably sound asleep, and having no idea where it was they’d arranged for her to stay, she surmised staying at the clinic was probably the better option. “If it won’t be a problem, I should probably stay here,” she concluded.
“No problem at all. The beds aren’t overly comfortable, but it’s quiet. Juji is our only patient tonight and she should sleep straight through the night.”
“I’m sure I’ll sleep like a rock myself.”
Jericho came to his feet, extending a hand to help Talisa to hers. As she rose, Talisa became acutely aware of just how close his body was to hers. So close she could study the chiseled lines of his profile with ease, noting the faint brush of new growth that painted the beginnings of a new beard across his face. His smooth, caramel complexion had tanned deeply beneath the intense African sun. But what was most apparent was that he looked much more at ease than Talisa remembered from their last encounter. He’d been out of place at the auction, but there, within the clinic walls, he was in his element: secure, confident and in total control.
The exchange of energy permeated with an eroticism that had them both breathing too heavily for comfort. It was an unspoken wanting that pulled them closer, Jericho taking an unconscious step toward her and Talisa meeting him with one of her own. Jericho reached his arms around her and pulled her close, his face brushing against the softness of her curls. Talisa reached out to hug him back, pressing her body comfortably against his.
“Welcome to Uganda, Talisa London. I’m very glad you’re here.”
Talisa awoke from a sound sleep just as quickly as she had fallen into it. Her gaze focused instantly on the little girl sitting upright in the bed across from her and the child’s mother who lay beside her daughter, humming softly. Juji smiled and lifted her hand in a slight wave. Talisa pulled her body upwards and waved back. Juji’s mother sat up and grinned in her direction, greeting her warmly.
Looking around, Talisa took in her surroundings beneath the morning light. The room was sparse, two rows of twin beds lined neatly against the walls with a small nightstand between each one. There were no curtains at the windows and sunlight flooded the interior. Someone had placed a new toothbrush still wrapped in cellophane, a sample tube of toothpaste, a washcloth and a bar of soap on the small nightstand at Talisa’s side. As Talisa swept the items up into her arms, the woman from the night before entered the room.
“Good morning, Ms. London.”
“Good morning. I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”
“Angela. Angela Colleu.”
“You must be Peter’s wife?”
The woman smiled, a brilliant display of straight, white teeth. “Yes.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Angela. And please, call me Talisa.”
Angela nodded as she reached to check Juji’s temperature. There was a brief exchange of conversation between them and Talisa listened with amusement at the quick, lyrical linguistics of the language.
“Juji says you are very beautiful. She has many questions about you,” Angela said, coming to sit on the bed beside Talisa.
Talisa smiled in the little girl’s direction. “Thank you,” she said, nodding at the grinning child.
“The rest of your group has just arrived from the village. Peter has breakfast ready for everyone. There is a bathroom and shower down the hall where you can freshen up. One of the students placed your luggage inside for you.”
“Thank you. I definitely need to get into some clean clothes.”
Angela smiled. “Jericho wanted to come wake you, but I would not let him. Now he is pouting. He is such a man.”
Talisa laughed. “I’m glad he didn’t see me like this. I’m sure I don’t look that good this morning.”
“That one will think you look beautiful no matter what. He is very excited about you being here. You and he are old friends, no?”
“We actually just met recently and only for a few minutes.”
Angela clapped her hands together. “That would explain it then. You have both been touched.”
Talisa looked at the woman questioningly, her gaze meeting Angela’s dark eyes in query. “Touched by what?”
Angela rose to her feet, gesturing for Talisa to follow. The woman smiled smugly as she answered. “Touched by the light of love, of course.”
Jericho paced the concrete floor of the clinic’s small office. He was weary, his energy level nearing an all-time low and his body was feeling it from his shoulders down to his lower back. His sleep had been less than restful, his mind overwhelmed with anxiety. Anxiety plaguing his dreams. What had he been thinking? He’d been so consumed by his excitement that he had blundered about like an adolescent. As innocent as it was intended, it was sheer boldness that had prompted him to pull Talisa in
to his arms.
She had fit against him as though they’d been made for one another and all had felt right with his world. Even when they’d both pulled back, embarrassment tingeing the moment, things between them had seemed copacetic. But Jericho knew things weren’t always what they appeared and what had seemed very right between them could easily turn very wrong. Shannon had taught him that harsh lesson.
Jericho shook a quiver of coldness through his body, the sensation sweeping down the length of his spine. Clasping a hand over his fist, he cracked the knuckles of each appendage. A deep inhale of air blew mournfully past his lips. He suddenly remembered the feel of Talisa’s cheek pressed against his, the gaze that had caused him to melt with wanting, and the laughter that had warmed him from the pith of his center. He smiled, hope settling easily into his bloodstream. Talisa London was nothing like Shannon.
Peter’s presence in the doorway pulled at Jericho’s attention.
“Good morning, Peter,” Jericho said, acknowledging his friend’s arrival.
Peter smiled. “How are you this morning?”
Jericho nodded his head, then shrugged his shoulders. A wide grin spread across his face as the other man appraised him all-knowingly.
“The volunteers from Wesley are here. They are having breakfast with the children this morning. Their arrival is special to us so the women have made mkate mayai.”
Jericho’s grin widened as he thought about the breakfast meal. Originally an Arab dish, mkate mayai, or bread eggs, was a rare treat for them all. Made from wheat dough spread into a thin pancake and filled with minced meat and raw egg, the concoction was then folded into a neat little package and fried over hot stones until done. Suddenly realizing just how famished he was, Jericho dropped a hand to his abdomen, hunger growling loudly for attention.
Peter laughed. “It would seem your appetite will be just fine. How about your heart?”
Jericho cut an eye toward his friend as the two men headed out the office door into the courtyard. “My heart is just fine,” he said sheepishly.
In the Light of Love Page 7