No Greater Love

by Kathi Macias

  All the more reason she, too, must be allowed to accompany Themba and the others as they went out during the day to fight for their cause and their people. Chioma opened her eyes and looked toward the lean-to she shared with her husband. Did she dare ask him to take her with him at the next sunrise? Her heart raced at the thought. He had been good to her, and she knew she could do much worse than to be his wife. But she also knew there were certain lines she dared not cross, at least not yet—

  She lifted her head, every sense alert. Had she heard something, a noise that didn’t belong to the usual bushveld chatter, a warning of some sort? Straining her ears, she glanced at Mandisa, who continued her work undisturbed. Surely if there were some sort of danger, Mandisa would also be aware of it, as would the guard stationed outside the camp.

  When Chioma heard nothing more and all seemed at peace around her, she shrugged and turned her attention to the empty cooking pot. Themba and the rest would be back soon, and they would not be pleased if they returned and found no food awaiting them. She had better get busy if she wanted to be sure everything was ready on time.

  But even as she began her preparations, the vague sense that something wasn’t quite right gnawed at her gut and flitted around the edges of her thoughts.

  “When do you plan to make your trip to visit your missionary friends?” Anana asked, as the two sisters strolled the expansive veld in front of the Vorster home. The morning sun was still a welcome warmth, though they planned to complete their walk and return to the veranda for cool drinks before the golden orb made its way much farther into the sky overhead.

  “I’d like to go soon,” Emma answered. “Friday, perhaps. I want to spend a few days with them, but I also want to return in time for us to have another week together before I go home.”

  Anana fell silent, her head bowed and her eyes focused on her feet as she walked. She didn’t want to think about her sister returning to the States, though she knew she had to do so. After all, Emma’s life was in America now. But it would be so difficult when she left! If only she didn’t have to take time from the precious days that remained to deliver the Bibles.

  “Can you … have someone else deliver the Bibles to the missionaries?” she asked, sneaking a peek at Emma to see her reaction. “We could have one of our people take them … “

  Emma stopped. Anana did the same, and they faced one another. “In many ways I wish I could,” Emma said, her voice soft. “I don’t want to miss any of our time together any more than you do, but …” She paused, smiling before she continued. “But I promised—Jeannie that I would come for a visit, Mariana that I would bring back pictures, and Jeannie’s mother that I would check to be sure they’re well. I must keep my promises.”

  Anana dropped her eyes, feeling the tears come. “I know.” She took Emma’s hands in her own. “It’s one of the reasons I love you so dearly. I just … wish I could go with you.”

  Emma squeezed her hands before loosing them. “You know Pieter would never allow it. He’s very protective of you—as he should be. If he feels there’s any danger at all, he’d never let you go.”

  Anana knew Emma was right, but her heart squeezed with fear, and she felt her brow draw together in a frown. “Then you mustn’t go, either. Emma, how could I bear it if anything happened to you?”

  Emma smiled again. “The danger is too small for concern. I only mention it because I know how Pieter feels. My goodness, Anana, all I’ll be doing is riding out there in the company of one of your drivers, where I’ll deliver a box of Bibles and visit with friends for a few days before returning when your driver comes to pick me up. What could possibly happen in such a simple arrangement?”

  Anana did her best to return Emma’s smile, but for a moment she felt a bit like Pieter, insisting that a loved one not be allowed to expose herself to any danger at all, regardless of how slim the possibility. Then she reminded herself that God could protect Emma, regardless of where she went or what she was doing—and particularly when it involved delivering Bibles to missionaries who worked with little children.

  With that thought in mind, Anana turned to resume her walk, determined to leave her sister and her trip to deliver Bibles in the capable hands of a loving God.

  Emma quickly fell in step beside her, as the two sisters crossed the veld toward the house.

  By the time Themba and the others returned, Chioma had their meal ready and waiting for them. When she heard them coming, she was surprised to realize how relieved she was that her husband had returned safely. But when she saw his face, she knew he hadn’t survived the day without paying a price.

  Sweat beaded his forehead, and though he walked tall and straight, she sensed there was pain in each step. When their eyes met, her instinct was to run to him and help him to the lean-to, where she would feed him and wipe him down with a cool cloth. But she had learned her lesson, and instead dropped her eyes and immediately scooped his meal into a bowl, holding it out to him as he stepped up beside her. He took it with a grunt, and then turned toward the lean-to. Without hesitation, Chioma followed him, concerned that he had not stopped to eat with the other men.

  Silently she joined him on the mat that covered the dirt floor of what served as their home. When he finished eating, he handed her the bowl and said, “I’m tired. Get me some water, and then come and lie beside me so I can rest.”

  Obediently Chioma retrieved the water, and by the time she returned to the lean-to, Themba was lying on his back. When he saw her, he lifted his head just enough for her to hold the cup to his lips so he could drink.

  “Would you like more?”

  “No,” he said, once again resting his head on the mat. “Just you. Here, beside me.”

  She set the cup down and stretched out next to him, careful to avoid his still-healing injury as she laid her head on his chest and he pulled her close. His heart sounded strong and regular, and she relaxed a little, but his breathing was labored, and she knew he had pushed himself throughout the long day.

  “Do you need anything else, my husband?” she ventured, wanting to check his wound but knowing she couldn’t unless he first asked her to do so.

  “Just quiet.”

  She pressed her lips together and lay very still. Though she hadn’t yet had time to eat her own meal, she would skip it tonight and think only of her husband’s welfare. It was the least she could do as wife of the group’s leader. She only wished she had been able to tell him of the noise she thought she heard, and of the strange feeling that followed—a feeling that someone was watching her, and the entire compound … someone who did not wish them well. But her husband had requested quiet, and she would grant it.

  Chapter 18

  PAUL AND JEANNIE MCDERMOTT WERE MARRIED IN December of 1988, and by January of 1989 they had come to South Africa and set up housekeeping in the two-room block building that would be their home for the next year. Even as Jeannie had unpacked their few belongings and rejoiced that God had at last given her the desire of her heart to serve on the mission field, she also looked forward to the visit they would have from Emma Rhoades, Jeannie’s longtime Sunday school teacher and her best friend’s mother.

  Now, settled into her new life in this strange but beautiful foreign country, she smiled at the realization that Emma would be coming in a few days to deliver the box of Bibles that had been too cumbersome for the young newlyweds to include in their own luggage. How lovely it would be to spend time with Mariana’s mother in this breathtakingly lovely land of South Africa!

  Jeannie hummed as she swept the floor and prepared to teach her morning class of twelve children, all under the age of ten. She so enjoyed having the little ones here, interacting with them and watching the light shine in their eyes when they correctly answered a question or did well on a quiz. Their sweetness and naivete, combined with their eagerness to learn, had quickly endeared them to her heart. It was as if they were her own children, and she cheered each one accordingly.

  She was sad, tho
ugh, that she and Paul had only been given clearance to teach those under ten. She couldn’t imagine that children so young were ready to trade in the furthering of their educations in favor of becoming breadwinners for their struggling families. And yet, she knew, the children who came to their missionary school were the fortunate ones, as there were so many others who didn’t have such an opportunity, even in their earliest years.

  Jeannie laid her hand on her stomach. There was no bulge and she hadn’t yet seen a doctor to confirm her suspicions, but the child was there; she was sure of it. Her baby, and Paul’s, conceived in love, was growing inside her. Tears stung her eyelids as she thought of the joy this child would bring, even as she considered the concern it would evoke from her own mother to think that her first grandchild would be born so far from home. Jeannie smiled then, as she realized that as soon as the news was formally announced, her mother would immediately begin making plans to travel to South Africa to be with her daughter when the baby was born.

  Oh, Paul, please be happy about it, she prayed silently, knowing her husband would also be concerned when he realized they would be having a baby so far from home. But babies had been born far away from home for years, Jeannie reasoned. Even Jesus had made His entrance into this world in a town far from the village of Nazareth where Joseph and Mary lived, so the little one whose life Jeannie was certain had already begun inside her would be in very good company, indeed.

  With that assurance, she went back to work, singing a song of praise from her heart.

  Pieter awoke in the dark, long before he needed to arise but as he often did in the early morning hours—especially since Andrew died.

  He had done the same thing for months after Gertie died as well. Unlike Anana, who seemed unable to fall asleep quickly, he often dropped right off, only to awaken during the night and then lie there, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the God of his fathers had so failed them.

  This early morning, however, easily more than an hour before the sun would begin to peek over the horizon, Pieter listened to his wife’s steady breathing and thanked God she was sleeping peacefully. Though he still wrestled with so many questions and doubts regarding his faith and the religion he had been raised on, he did find himself appreciating the little things, now that he had lost so many of the more important ones.

  First Gertie, now Andrew. How is it possible? And yet my dear wife continues to sleep beside me. For that I’m grateful, though I worry about her more than she can imagine. Another loss could finish her. If only I could find a way to convince Emma not to go on that trek to deliver the Bibles, to stay here with Anana instead. I’ve heard rumors of attacks, even on missionary compounds. If anything were to happen while Emma was there …

  Anana stirred beside him, interrupting his fears, and despite his resolve to let her sleep, he moved toward her and gathered her into his arms. Murmuring his name, she snuggled close, laying her head on his chest as the scent of her hair brought tears to his eyes. Did this woman have any idea how very much he cherished her, how much he wanted to protect her and keep her from harm and pain? He had wanted to do that for her since the day she agreed to become his wife, but he had failed miserably. Though he had given her two children, he hadn’t been able to keep either of them alive. Now all the grieving parents had left was one another.

  Dear God, please don’t take her from me, as You’ve done with our children. Please, if You can hear me, I beg You, don’t take her from me … or me from her.

  Themba looked better this morning—stronger and healthier. The sleep had done him good, and Chioma noted that he sat with the other men and ate his morning meal without hesitation—another good sign.

  Alert to his every movement, Chioma watched … and waited. Would he suggest she accompany them this day, or would she once again be left behind to tend the camp with Mandisa and Sipho?

  Themba, standing now and surrounded by a group of men, turned to her and jerked his head toward the lean-to. She knew what he meant, and quickly retrieved his assault rifle and brought it to him, her heart racing with anticipation.

  Before either of them had spoken to one another, Themba was gone. Without a word of explanation or good-bye, he had snatched the weapon from her outstretched hand, slung it over his shoulder, and grunted an order. The next thing Chioma knew, with the exception of the one sentry she knew Themba had left on guard, she and Mandisa and the baby were alone in the camp once again, staring at the place where the others had disappeared into the bush. Though Mandisa immediately began to hum as she prepared to tackle her day’s duties, Chioma felt her heavy heart collapse at her feet. Would she ever be included with the others, or was she destined to remain in camp to cook and clean … and wait? Didn’t Themba realize how much she longed to join them? Or perhaps he did realize, but he simply didn’t care.

  Dejected, she sighed and turned to join her friend in the many tasks that lay before them. It would be a long day, and a disappointing one—though in the back of her mind was the thought that perhaps her husband had left her behind because he truly did care and wanted to protect her.

  The midafternoon sun burned hot overhead, as Chioma took a rare respite from her work. Mandisa was at the creek, cooling Sipho with the refreshing water, while Chioma opted for the semi-privacy of the small clearing in the trees just outside the camp, where she still liked to steal away to be alone with her holy book.

  Checking first for stickers and thorns, Chioma leaned her back against a tree and relaxed in the coolness of its shade. Dappled light shone through the leaves overhead onto the book that now lay open in her lap. She had given up reading where she had started, as she found it too confusing. Now she turned randomly to a page that read at the top “1 John.” Scanning the page she saw the word love repeated often, and she wondered that a holy book would speak so much about such a human emotion. One verse in particular caught her eye: If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God.

  Jesus. She had heard the name often during Dominee Vorster’s sermons, and she knew the whites believed this Jesus was God’s Son. But how was that so? If Jesus was God’s Son, who then, was His mother? Chioma had also heard of a woman named Mary, who was referred to as the mother of Jesus, but how could that be possible, since this Mary was supposed to be a virgin? Chioma might be only sixteen, but she was a woman now, and a wife besides. She knew enough to understand that a virgin could certainly not be a mother—unless, of course, she was a mother like Mandisa to Sipho. Yes, she supposed that could be the case with this Jesus and the woman named Mary.

  She looked again at the curious verse. How could this holy book say that the white man’s God lived inside people who believed that Jesus was God’s Son? If the white man believed in only one God, He would have to be a very large God. How then could He fit inside a person, and how could He do so inside many people all at one time?

  Chioma sighed and laid the book in her lap. If only this holy book wouldn’t call to her, she would throw it into the creek and never worry about it again. After all, it made no sense, and it certainly didn’t teach her anything that applied to her life. So why bother?

  She had asked herself that question many times, but each time she came back to the conclusion that it truly must be a holy book or it wouldn’t have the power to communicate with her heart. For that reason alone, she would restrain herself from throwing the book into the water—that and the fact that Themba had given it to her and might not take kindly to her tossing it away.

  Tucking it back into her pocket, Chioma pulled herself to her feet, thinking she would walk to the creek to check on Mandisa and the baby. Before she could take a step, she felt it—that same sensation she had experienced the day before, that knowing that something wasn’t right, that evil had invaded their territory.

  Her nerves and senses on high alert, she listened, even as she silently melted back into the trees, hiding herself from view.

  What was it? Who was it? What did they want? And wh
ere was the lone sentry Themba had left to guard the camp?

  Then Mandisa screamed, and Chioma knew at least where the problem was, even if she didn’t know who or what it might be. Realizing she couldn’t count on any help from the guard, who undoubtedly had already met with his demise, Chioma made her decision. As she moved stealthily toward the lean-to, she made a quick visual sweep of the camp before stepping into view long enough to sneak into the lean-to and grab the rifle Themba always kept loaded and ready at his bedside. Chioma hadn’t fired a gun in several years, not since her father had taught her when she was still quite young, but she was confident she could aim and fire at any danger that confronted her—or Mandisa and the baby.

  Ignoring the shaking inside her, Chioma moved quickly but carefully through the shadows at the outskirts of the camp, avoiding the open areas but hurrying as quickly as possible toward the sound of Mandisa’s cries, which had now been joined by the baby’s, who no doubt sensed his mother’s distress.

  Reaching the edge of the tree line just before it broke into the open bank beside the creek, Chioma halted, her weapon held tightly in her right hand. There were three of them, their broad backs to her, facing Mandisa, who clutched the baby to her chest. It was obvious they had come upon her as she was not only bathing Sipho, but herself as well. The mother and child’s nakedness only added to their vulnerability, as the men taunted Mandisa, casting lewd suggestions and even vicious threats her way.

  As Chioma watched and Mandisa pleaded for her life and the child’s, the men began to close in, laughing at their prey’s fear. Chioma noted that only one appeared to be carrying an assault rifle, though she imagined the others also had weapons of some sort. She could easily shoot one and possibly two of these vultures before they reached her friend, but certainly not all three. For the first time, though it would have been unfamiliar and cumbersome, she wished Themba had left an automatic weapon instead of this older firearm. But at least she was somewhat familiar with the type of weapon she held in her hand, so maybe it was for the best after all. She would just have to go for the one with the AK-47 first, and then take her chances with the other two.