No Greater Love

by Kathi Macias

  Sunny South Africa, my beloved homeland! At last I will see you again—walk upon your earth, smell the flowers and the foods that are so unique to our people, and yes, even hear the cries of conflict that are also such a part of who we are.

  She sighed, wishing Mariana weren’t so far along in her pregnancy and could accompany her on this month-long trek, but Emma understood why her son-in-law, Eric, wouldn’t want his wife taking such a chance, particularly in a country going through so much upheaval. Both Eric and Mariana had tried to dissuade Emma from making the trip herself, without her husband at her side, warning that danger was a very real concern. But Emma knew they felt as they did because they had never lived in South Africa and therefore had no passion for the country. Their loyalty was with America, as well it should be. She, too, was an American citizen now, and yet …

  A smile played on her lips, as she closed her eyes and remembered the years when she and Anana had grown up on their Afrikaner parents’ farm, blissfully unaware that across the land trouble brewed and tempers flared. The way of life the young girls knew was peaceful and happy because their mother and father made it so; there was no room for alarm or concern for their two daughters. Emma had enjoyed free run of the farm, with her four-years-younger sister, Anana, tagging along behind. The farm’s many servants doted on the two towheaded charmers, and often covered for them when they got into something they shouldn’t. Never had either of the girls experienced a fearful or negative event due to their Afrikaner beliefs or their carefully maintained but separate coexistence with those who didn’t share those beliefs—or their skin color. It had been as close to idyllic as any life could be, and though Emma knew she could never recapture those carefree days, she did look forward to reminiscing about them with Anana.

  “Mom?”

  Emma started. She hadn’t realized how far away she had drifted until Mariana interrupted her daydreaming. Emma opened her eyes and turned to her daughter, who sat beside her in the waiting area, her rounded stomach nearly bursting at the seams of her cotton smock. Nearly all the seats in front of the gate were filled. Soon they would begin boarding, and Emma would be alone among strangers.

  “Forgive me,” Emma said. “My mind was wandering.”

  Mariana smiled, and Emma’s heart constricted as she once again saw her husband’s kindness and warmth reflected in their daughter’s brown eyes. Though Mariana had inherited the blonde hair of their Dutch ancestry, she had the doelike brown eyes of her fun-loving, Italian father. John, how I miss you! This is the first time I’ve ever flown anywhere without you beside me!

  Mariana patted her mother’s hand. “Nothing wrong with that, Mom.” Her smile faded then, and her eyes took on the serious look that had also been such a part of John’s personality. “I know you miss Daddy.” Her voice cracked. “So do I. But you’re going to have a good time visiting Auntie Anana and Uncle Pieter. It will be good for you, though I hate to think of you going alone. If things were different with me, I—”

  Emma raised her hand and shook her head. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. You’re expecting a baby! I certainly don’t expect you to leave your husband behind and fly halfway around the world with me—though I’ll admit, I’d certainly love it if you could.” She smiled. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back before that little one makes an appearance. And maybe next time I go, you and Eric can both come, and bring your baby for your auntie and uncle to see.”

  Mariana returned her smile and nodded. “Yes. Next time, Mom.” The concerned look returned, as she added, “But, please, be careful. You know how much turmoil is going on in South Africa right now. We read of kidnappings and murders all the time, and—”

  This time Emma interrupted her daughter by placing a finger against her lips. “Don’t worry about me. We’ve prayed, and we’ll trust God to take care of me—of all of us. He’ll bring me home safely to you, I promise.”

  With only a brief hesitation, Mariana nodded again. “Of course He will. And I’ll pray for you every day while you’re gone.”

  Emma smiled. “I know you will, my dear, as I will for you.”

  Mariana leaned across the plastic divider of their chairs and kissed Emma’s cheek. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered.

  Emma felt the all-too-familiar sting of tears against the back of her eyelids. “I know,” she said, not trusting herself to say more but grateful that God had blessed her with such a loving and caring daughter. Of course He would bring her back safely, she reassured herself. Why on earth would He choose to do anything else?

  The moonlight was gentle as it spilled through the trees onto the small, secluded spot just outside the camp where Chioma sat, remembering the moonlight that had shone overhead just one thirty-day cycle earlier. The creek running over their feet, Andrew’s eyes as he looked at her, his words as he spoke of his feelings for her … and then the terror—

  She closed her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to block out the memories, it seemed they were always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to pounce the moment she allowed herself even a brief respite from the exhausting routine that had become her life since joining the group. If she had thought she was busy when she lived and worked on the Vorster farm, it had been nothing compared to the pace she kept at the compound. Now, of course, she had a purpose. She was working for the cause, at last. Whether loading bullets or cooking meager rations over an open fire, there was no time for regret or recriminations during the day. But when the sun went down and everyone else curled up in a blanket to rejuvenate for the coming day, Chioma wandered away to a private place to think and clear her mind before trying to sleep.

  In the beginning she thought the nonstop labor of the long days would enable her to sleep the moment she closed her eyes. Such was not the case. The loneliness and haunting memories had become her constant companions, and whether alone or sleeping side-by-side in a tiny lean-to with Mandisa and Mbhali, her pain was palpable. And so she chose to give vent to it as best she could, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

  But even in the relative privacy of her little spot among the trees, she was careful not to allow herself to weep aloud. When tears seeped out of her eyes and drifted down her cheeks, she made no sounds that would alert others to her grief. If the gods truly existed and were listening, they knew, and that was enough.

  She had been in the compound sufficient time now to recognize which sounds, muted or otherwise, were a normal part of the communal lifestyle or the surrounding wildlife, and which were warnings of possible danger. The snap of a twig to her left was too near to be someone walking in the camp, and she felt the hair rise on her arms and the back of her neck as she realized she was no longer alone.

  Lifting her head toward the sound that had caught her attention, she felt her heart skip at the sight of the tall figure standing over her. His head was bent, looking down at her, and there was just enough moonlight to see that familiar look of hunger in his eyes. She recoiled, partially from fear of what lay behind that look, but also because she sensed yet again that inexplicable drawing toward him, that feeling of compulsion to go to him, regardless of the outcome.

  She clenched her jaw and lifted her chin, determined not to show her feelings, yet sensing he already knew what they were. What was it about this man that she could find him both terrifying and attractive at the same time?

  “You’re quite a loner, I see,” Themba announced, deftly lowering himself to a sitting position beside her. “I think maybe you need some company.”

  Chioma’s heart raced, and she forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly as she turned her gaze from him to look straight ahead. “I may be a loner, but I’m not lonely, and I don’t need or want company.”

  After a moment of stunned silence, Themba’s familiar laugh erupted, brief and staccato-like, into the night sky, startling more than a few sleeping pigeons from a nearby tree. If anyone from the camp heard it, they undoubtedly recognized its source and ignored it.

  In spite of h
erself, she turned back to look at him. He never ceased to amaze her, this man who struck terror into the hearts of nearly everyone who met him and yet seemed to have such a caring and even humorous side. Chioma couldn’t help but wonder if he was unique in his dual personality, or if everyone had such a perplexing mix of personality traits buried deep within.

  “So,” he said, his smile still in place, “you’re not in need of company.” He paused, watching her as she tried not to squirm under his gaze. “But perhaps I am. Perhaps I desire your company this fine evening. What would you say to that?”

  Chioma swallowed, wondering if she might faint from fear, certain she would if he made even one move toward her. What was he trying to say? Surely he didn’t mean …

  She tried to suppress a shudder, but she was certain he had seen it. No matter. Though she had been telling herself ever since arriving in the compound that she would pay any price to be accepted into the group and allowed to participate in whatever possible acts of revenge against their common enemies, she knew in her heart this was one thing she couldn’t do—not willingly, at least. If he decided to force himself, he might win, but he wouldn’t do so unscathed.

  “I’d say you’d better find your company somewhere else,” she said, her voice no longer calm or steady, but at least the words were clear and understandable. She squared her shoulders, realizing the effect was greatly diminished by the fact that she was now trembling uncontrollably. “I’m sure there are many women who’d find spending time with you … attractive. I’m not one of them.”

  There. She had said it. If she must die, here at the hands of Mbhali’s rebel cousin, so be it. But she would die with dignity, as her father had done. She wouldn’t grovel or beg, and she hoped she wouldn’t cry.

  The flash of anger in Themba’s eyes was brief, but enough to send an arrow of terror through Chioma’s heart. Then his eyes softened, and she saw his jaw twitch before he spoke. “You are a brave woman, Chioma—brave and beautiful. I’ve decided to let you live, though you defy me as no one has ever done before … and survived.”

  He reached out then, caressing her cheek with his large, rough hand and amazing her at the gentleness in his touch. Mesmerized, she waited, afraid to breathe. He had said he would let her live. What did that mean? What else might he do to her, even at the cost of sparing her life?

  “Listen to my words, brave and beautiful woman,” Themba crooned, sending a shiver up Chioma’s spine. “I spare you for a reason. I have long wanted a wife to fight at my side and to one day bear my children, should we live that long. But never before have I found anyone worthy to take that place.” He nodded, moving his hand to cup her chin and tilt her face to his. “Now I’ve found you, and though I’ll be patient for a time, you’ll soon become the wife I’ve searched for.” His eyes narrowed and his grip on her chin tightened slightly. “I won’t wait long. Do you understand me, Chioma?”

  Before she realized what she was doing, Chioma found herself nodding in agreement. What was she thinking? Surely he understood she had acquiesced from fear, not from desire. Whatever the reason, he was now smiling, as his dark eyes danced with delight.

  “Good,” he said, releasing her chin. “Then it’s settled. You’ll be my wife—soon. Until then, you’re under my personal protection. No one will bother you. They’ll know you’re my woman.”

  Chioma felt her eyes widen. His woman? His wife? How had it come to this? Just a month earlier she had sat next to Andrew, trying to resist the forbidden love of an Afrikaner farmer’s son, and now she was pledged to marry a black rebel who struck terror into her heart—and for good reason. His reputation as a ruthless killer and a violent warrior was not unwarranted. How could she ever share her life—and her heart—with such a man, despite the seemingly tender side she had glimpsed in him? Was there no other choice for her, no hope of deliverance or escape?

  The lingering smile on his lips as he rose to leave left little doubt that indeed there was none.

  Chapter 10

  SO, NOW WE ARE TRULY SISTERS.” Mbhali’s matter-of-fact statement confirmed Chioma’s suspicion that Themba had already announced the news of their “relationship,” as Chioma’s standing in the community had suddenly gained a higher level of respect. Those who used to eye her with suspicion now nodded in deference when she passed by. Mbhali, however, had been the first to verbalize it.

  Chioma sighed. There was no sense denying what she couldn’t avoid or change, but she wouldn’t admit to anything that had yet to transpire. “If you mean because you and Themba are cousins, then you and I are related,” Chioma said, “that’s not the case—not yet anyway. I’m not his wife.”

  Mbhali raised her eyebrows. “But you will be. And you’re already his woman. He said so, and that makes it so for all of us—including you.”

  Once again, as she had many times over the last few days, Chioma wondered at how her situation had changed so quickly. Did she no longer have any say in her own future? She sighed again. Apparently not—at least not so long as she lived with this rebel band. And where else was she to go? Her fate was sealed, and she knew she couldn’t prolong the inevitable for long—unless, of course, something happened to Themba before …

  She shook her head. She mustn’t think that way. It was far too dangerous. Better to accept what must be and make the best of it—even while hoping for some sort of miraculous reprieve or change of heart on Themba’s behalf.

  Lifting her head, she locked eyes with Mbhali. “What you say is true, though it’s not by my choice.”

  Mbhali’s dark eyes flashed, and she leaned toward her friend, grabbing her arm as she hissed, “Sometimes we don’t get to choose how we live, Chioma—or with whom. So never speak those words again. Do you hear me?”

  Chioma’s arm hurt where Mbhali’s nails dug into her flesh. Why was she being so dramatic? Of course Chioma knew about choices—or lack of them. If she had been able to make her own choices all along, she certainly wouldn’t be living in a dirty compound while her loved ones lay dead and buried under the South African dirt.

  Chioma shook her arm free. “I know that,” she said, doing her best to sound confident. “But I thought I could speak my feelings to you, of all people. Who knows better how things are with me—with all our people? We do what we must to survive. I’m only too aware of that fact.”

  Mbhali’s face remained close to Chioma as she warned, “Then keep your feelings to yourself. It’s safer that way—for everyone concerned.”

  Chioma paused, wondering if she was reading too much into Mbhali’s warning. At last she nodded in affirmation, and the subject was closed, at least for the time being. Chioma’s heart, however, was anything but comforted, and the fear that had been gnawing at her gut continued to grow more pronounced.

  It had been a long flight, and Emma was exhausted, but the closer they got to their destination, the more energized she became.

  Home. At last she would see her beautiful homeland once again! She had come to love America, but it would never take the place of the beloved country where she had grown up in a close-knit family and enjoyed a relatively carefree life. Though Anana had been four years younger than Emma, the two had been inseparable. When Emma met and fell in love with John, she had been faced with the most difficult decision of her entire life—let him fly to America without her, or leave her parents and little sister, as well as her home and everything familiar to her, behind. She had quite obviously chosen the latter, and she didn’t regret it one bit, and yet …

  Blinking back tears, Emma determined not to dwell on the negative; they had all experienced far too much of that already. There would be time for tears when she and Anana were alone. For now, she would think only of the joy of setting foot on South African soil, and of sharing precious days and weeks with her only sibling.

  If only John could be here to share it with her, as he had been on her previous visits. And if only Andrew would be among Emma’s welcoming clan when she stepped off the plane …

>   She shook her head, peering out the window into the early morning darkness, which was just beginning to be dispelled as they flew toward the sunlight. In a matter of only a few hours now, she would watch the achingly familiar outline of Johannesburg rise up to greet them, and her heart reached out in longing.

  Anna could scarcely contain her excitement, and it amazed her that she could once again experience such a positive emotion. It nearly immersed her in guilt to think she could rejoice over anything while still in the midst of grieving the loss of her only son. And yet she knew Andrew would want her to rejoice and to look forward to her visit with his Auntie Emma with great anticipation.

  She needed this, she thought. They all did. The heavy pall that had settled over the Vorster home after Andrew’s death had nearly suffocated the life out of Anana, and she had come close to giving up altogether. Then she had received the phone call. When she heard Emma’s voice on the other end of the line, her heart had seemingly jumped into her throat. Receiving phone calls from halfway around the world was not an everyday occurrence, and they were never made frivolously. Emma’s last call had been to inform them of John’s death, made not long after Anana’s call to Emma to convey their loss of Andrew. How thrilled Anana was when Emma delivered the good news that she was coming for a visit! It had been the lifeline Anana needed.

  She and Pieter would leave for the airport soon. Anana made one more trip into the guest room, smoothing the soft blankets that had replaced the feather bed, and fluffing the foam pillows one last time. The scent of candles freshened the room, and Kagiso, one of the new servants they hired when Chioma and the others left, had dusted the dark mahogany furniture to a sparkling sheen. All was ready.

  Anana took a deep breath and went to find Pieter. It was time to leave, and she didn’t want to take any chances on being late.