Out Of The Darkness

by Crawford, Dianna; Druten, Rachel;

  He could not remember mounting his horse, or where he rode, or for how long.

  Thoughts tumbled over one another, disjointed and in disarray. He remembered the woman at the river kissing Daniel’s feet and Daniel explaining to the tall, bearded native, “It is not my magic, it is God’s miracle.”

  How Colin had scoffed at that.

  And he remembered so much more.

  He remembered the many debates he’d waged with Daniel those weeks on the road. Daniel’s simple expression of faith as, together, they’d awaited the birth of Mary’s baby. And he remembered his own rude reply. If it gives you comfort. As if only a fool could believe.

  He, Colin, was the fool.

  When he lifted his eyes, he found he had reined up in front of a whitewashed Dutch-styled structure, bathed in sunshine, surrounded by tended grass and shaded by oaks.

  High above the double gothic doors, a simple wooden cross rose up.

  Daniel’s church.

  How Colin had arrived there was a miracle in itself, for he had not consciously determined this destination. And yet he had no doubt that this was where he was meant to come.

  Suddenly he became achingly aware of the beauty that surrounded him, the scent of the myrtle and bright-hued cannas skirting the mission, the warmth of the sun, the caress of a gentle breeze. As he dismounted, he heard the chirp of a bird nesting in the oak above him and bees buzzing in a nearby hive. His boots trod silently across the grass and clacked up the wooden steps.

  It was cool in the narthex as he stood, gazing into the sanctuary.

  The interior was polished oak; the floor, the walls, the pews angled toward the altar. Rectangles of light from the high windows along the eaves marched down the opposing side.

  And rising above it all, the cross. The cross that symbolized the sacrificial death of Daniel’s Lord Jesus.

  Colin’s step echoed as he walked down the middle aisle and slipped into a pew near the back.

  The sanctuary was so silent. As he sat gazing up at that empty cross, he imagined he could hear his own heart beating, echoing inside his emptiness. He felt as if he were a vessel that had been drained, and there was nothing left to fill it.

  If you’re as real as they say you are, Jesus, show Yourself to me.

  “Colin.”

  He looked up.

  Daniel was standing beside him. And in his dear friend’s face he saw reflected there what he so desperately sought. . . God’s mercy, forgiveness, and love.

  Tears clogged Colin’s throat. “Tell me,” he whispered hoarsely, “tell me everything I need to know.”

  sixteen

  Mary buried her nose in the pink cabbage rose, drew a long, deep breath of the heady scent, and reluctantly added the blossom to the arrangement in the cut-glass vase. She’d already set the small table on the verandah with Emma’s finest linens, the delicate, leaf-embossed Wedgewood, and etched sterling.

  Emma did not believe in saving her best just for guests.

  The English habit of tea was Mary’s favorite time of day. She was glad the Bryants had adopted it and intended to do the same when she had a home of her own.

  Absently, she plucked a flowering twig of jasmine from a twining patch and tucked it into her chestnut bun.

  The length of the shadows angling across the lawn told her that Daniel was later than usual. And Emma, never one to while away a useless moment, had gone to the study to finish letters to her sisters until he arrived home.

  A mottled brown-feathered fowl scuttled across a corner of the terrace, followed by a string of chicks.

  Mary smiled. In a year’s time her own little chick would be scurrying after her.

  A year from now.

  She’d just learned that the Bryants’ mission in South Africa was not permanent. Next year, when their tour of duty was up, they could very well be sent to some other location, even to another country. Mary would be on her own.

  She adjusted a rose in the bouquet.

  Her need to earn money had taken on an urgency. Emma was certainly doing her part to help, touting Mary’s skills as a seamstress to every lady she knew.

  Mary smoothed the pleats of the pale yellow lawn dress she’d made just before the baby arrived. Still a little snug, but less so than a week ago.

  If she managed her money very carefully, and with a little help from Ethan and Brody, she expected to have enough saved for her ticket to California by this time next year. Maybe even sooner.

  The sooner the better.

  She would miss the Bryants. Desperately. But she knew that her two active brothers, still in their teens, needed her there to introduce them to the good news of the Lord, to say nothing of some adult supervision. Who knew what those two were up to, off on their own?

  But there was a more pressing reason she was so anxious to leave.

  Colin.

  The temptation to go to him, beg him to forgive her, to take her back, was always there, tugging at her resolve. No amount of praying had eased her longing for him. Putting half a world between them seemed like her safest choice.

  Not that she ever saw him. But there was always that small glimmer of possibility. Perhaps catch a glimpse of him when she and Mrs. Emma went into town on their errands, or on their way to church, or. . .

  She shook her head, determined to clear it of the hopeless musings that would sink her into that wretched melancholia that was always hovering at the edge of her thoughts.

  With brisk determination she turned, but paused when she heard Daniel’s approaching step on the gravel path.

  But it was not Daniel.

  It was Colin!

  Mary sagged against the wicker chair as he stepped into the shade of the verandah. Her heart raced with such a frantic beat she feared it might burst from her breast.

  Was it truly he? Or a cruel imagining?

  Real or imagined, oh, he was so beautiful to her. . .his mantle of curling hair, catching blue lights in the black, his sculpted features and bronzed skin, his virile body made more so by the smart fit of his beige tunic and the highly polished boots.

  The sight of him drew away the air she breathed. Her mouth went dry, her palms moist.

  She stared at him, unable to utter a sound.

  As if he were a thirsty man finding an oasis, Colin’s dark eyes consumed her.

  “Mary.” His voice was low and hoarse with emotion. “Mary—” It grew in strength as he spoke. “The most amazing thing has happened.”

  He took a step forward. She, back.

  He stood then, at ease. A smile began and broadened. Startling, wondrously beautiful. “A miraculous thing. As miraculous as. . .as. . .Nyati’s son’s withered leg becoming whole.” His smile broke into a joyful grin. “Well, almost.”

  Again he took a step forward, and Mary retreated. Again he paused, waited, stalking the bird that really had no heart for flight.

  “How does that hymn go? I was lost—me, the one with a compass always in his pocket. But now I’m found. I was blind, but now I see— Oh, Mary, I was deaf and dumb and arrogant. So arrogant I couldn’t open my mind and heart to what was right in front of me.”

  No! Mary’s hands flew to her flushed cheeks. It can’t be. He’s just saying this to placate me. To trick me. She lowered her gaze, blinded by his smile.

  “Mary, look at me. Can’t you see it?” he beseeched. “I don’t know how to put it into words. My heart is so full.”

  Why would he pretend if it weren’t so? Would he stoop so low to win her?

  Not Colin. Never. He was too honest. Too proud.

  “I believe in Him again, Mary. In His power and mercy. But I have so much to learn. Help me.” He reached out his hand.

  She looked at it—at him. “When? How?”

  “Today, not more than an hour ago. It’s as if I found Him and myself at the same time. You were so right. This is a joy that must be shared. . .especially with the one you love.”

  “Oh, my. Oh, dear.” She reached for Colin and he pulled
her to him. “My darling, my beloved,” she sighed, melting into his arms.

  She felt his lips, warm against her temple, the tip of her ear, the crest of her cheek. A thrill of excitement ran through her, and she clung to him as at last his mouth found hers and she felt its pressure, moist and moving, with a tenderness and yearning that echoed her own.

  Breathless, Mary drew back, gazing up into his dear, beloved face. How could she have misread the truth in his eyes?

  Oh ye of little faith. She had prayed to the Lord, yet not trusted His answer.

  But now her own heart was open, and she saw it all, shining in Colin’s countenance, bright as God’s promise.

  ❧

  Tilting her head, Mary studied her reflection in the full-length mirror as Kweela hooked the thirty tiny covered buttons that marched down the back of Mary’s dress.

  “You do not worry. I know Mr. Colin puts value on you, even though he brings not one cow—not even a goat,” she muttered under her breath. The girl had tried to sound reassuring, but was having trouble hiding her disdain.

  Mary struggled to suppress a smile as she adjusted the delicate tucks that made up the bodice of her ecru silk wedding gown. “That’s not fair, Kweela, we just have different customs. It’s true Magistrate Reed didn’t give Pastor Daniel any cows for me, but he’s spending a great deal of money on our honeymoon.”

  “What is a honeymoon?” Kweela asked suspiciously, adjusting the swagged backfolds of the soft fabric. Kweela had had her hand in the making of the exquisite garment, as had Emma. Even Nandi had offered an opinion. But the dress was Mary’s design, and it was her fingers that had stitched the final seams and each tiny tuck.

  “The first weeks after a wedding are called the honeymoon,” Mary explained. “Couples who can afford to usually go on a trip. Just the two of them. But Colin is taking me and the baby to California to see my brothers—which will cost at least as much as a hundred cows. Maybe more.”

  Round-eyed, Kweela peeked over Mary’s shoulder and met her reflected gaze. “That many?” Clearly, the young maiden, dressed in her own most colorful garments, was impressed. “Well, good.”

  Mary giggled. “Very good, indeed.”

  Over by the window, the baby mewed in her cradle, and Mary turned.

  “Now, you do not move until I am done, Missy Mary. That young one can wait to be picked up.” Kweela tucked a coronet of tiny fresh gardenias around the cascade of auburn curls drawn up at Mary’s crown, and stood back to admire her handiwork. “You are a perfectly beauteous bride. Nobody can doubt that.”

  Mary smiled. “Thank you, Kweela. Perhaps you’ll be next.”

  Looking down, Mary wondered if she’d forgotten anything. She touched Mrs. Emma’s lace hankie embroidered with forget-me-nots that she’d tucked into her sleeve. Something borrowed and blue. And Baby Kathy certainly qualified for something new.

  As for something old—she had folded four one-pound notes into her luggage to give Colin later—an old debt. The amount he’d paid on her hotel bill the first day they met.

  She was ready.

  The sweet fragrance of the delicate gardenias wafted around her like the most expensive perfume as she gazed at her image in the mirror. What she saw was a young woman she wouldn’t have recognized a year ago. And it was much more than the clothes she saw.

  She saw a young woman with sparkling eyes, whose face shown bright with the joy of the Lord. A young woman who knew God’s blessings and was grateful. It was not her own beauty that Mary saw, but the beauty of the Holy Spirit within her. And it filled the room.

  “Missy Mary!” Nandi’s voice and impatient fist hit the bedroom door. “Mr. Colin says if you do not come soon, he will think you ran out on him.”

  Kweela hollered back, “You tell Mr. Colin to hold his horses. She comes when she is ready.” She turned to Mary. “It is not Mr. Colin anyway, it is that Nandi who is impatient. You just take your time.” She strode toward the door. “I am going out there and set her straight.”

  As the door closed behind Kweela, Mary walked over to the window. She stood by the cradle, letting the sights and sounds of this beloved place wash over her for the last time as Mary McKenzie.

  When she returned, it would be as Mary Reed.

  Mrs. Colin Reed.

  She sighed. This room had seen her many incarnations. Her baptism, the birth of her child, and now, her marriage.

  She felt a moment’s sadness, remembering how different this was from her first hasty wedding. How different the wedding. How different the man. But she never would have known the extent of Colin’s goodness had she not first known Ed.

  Perhaps that, too, was part of God’s mercy. Ed had been her choice, not God’s, but He had seen that good came from it. The Lord works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.

  And it was a wonder, how she and Colin found each other.

  How they’d both found Jesus.

  She looked down at her beautiful baby girl, Ed’s legacy that he would never know. And soon to be, in every way, Colin’s child. She smoothed the batiste gown, as delicate and lovely as Mary’s hands could fashion, then picked up her baby.

  Kathleen Elsa.

  The Elsa, for Colin’s mother—Mary’s gift that she was saving to tell him when they were alone.

  She brushed her lips across the infant’s soft cheek. “You are my flower, dear one, my bouquet.”

  As Mary walked down the hall, she heard the murmur of voices in the parlor where the wedding would take place. With the exception of Ethan and Brody, all those she loved most would be there. Jalamba, in his Sunday black suit and starched collar. Nandi would be in her favorite native costume, the orange-dyed fabric slashed with a symmetrical black-and-white tribal design. And Kweela, wearing the bright colors that signified a maiden’s eligibility.

  Emma at the upright. Mrs. Emma, her beloved sister in Christ.

  And Pastor Daniel in his dark robes, his Bible in hand. Beside him, Colin.

  Colin.

  Where she’d felt so calm and sure just moments ago, Mary was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Her footsteps slowed. Before reaching the parlor archway, she paused. She pictured each kind, gentle face turned in her direction—even Nandi’s.

  Her eyes misted and her throat clogged with tears.

  Had the baby not let out a small cry, who knows how long she would have remained.

  She stepped through the curving arch, and it was as she’d imagined. There her loved ones were, the light of God’s blessing.

  And Colin, tall and magnificent, whose eyes alone she sought. Waiting for her.

  As he would be always.

  Now and forever.

  epilogue

  Overseer Daniel Bryant with his wife, Elder Emma Dempsey Bryant, started a mission in South Africa in 1904. They were greatly beloved and remained for several years, returning to America for the birth of their second child, a son.

  The natives called Bryant the modern Moses, and when he returned briefly several years later, they lined the road for three miles to welcome him.

  The mission is still active today.