The Golden Angel

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The Golden Angel Page 30

by Gilbert, Morris


  “Oh, Quaid, how wonderful! Such a beautiful thing!” Erin’s eyes were filled with tears, and she could not speak. She could only look up at him, and now she freed her hands and put them up on his shoulders. “I know it’s not my place, but I’ve got to do this with you. You said you loved me once, so now I’m going to tell you. We’re not in a parachute falling, but I feel like God has put us together. I love you, and I want to marry you and be your wife and have your children and fly planes with you in Africa. And—”

  She got no further, for Quaid uttered a glad cry and pulled her forward. He kissed her, and to Erin it was like coming home from a dangerous voyage at sea into a quiet and peaceful harbor.

  The two stood there embracing, and then she lifted her head and said, “Can you believe that God intended this from the very first?”

  “Yes,” Quaid said. He held her in his arms, looking down at her, and finally a great joy flashed out of his eyes. “Other men are thrilled with ordinary women, but God gave me the Golden Angel.”

  Erin put her cheek down on his chest and clung to him tightly. His arms closed about her, and she whispered, “Wait until Nbuta meets you.”

  The two stood there, and each of them knew that the future was in God’s hands. But as they clung to each other, a melody seemed to be chiming, for this was right, and this was good, and this was the way God had planned it all.

  Epilogue

  Nbuta stood with his left heel against the inside of his right leg. He held his ever-present spear in his right hand and looked at the two who had come to visit him, and pride swelled his heart.

  “So, my young pale hunter has come back home.”

  “Yes, Nbuta, and I’m so glad to see you.” She held tightly to Quaid’s hand and looked up at him and then back at Nbuta. “You’ll have to call me by my married name now. I am Erin Merritt.”

  Nbuta nodded. “There is no need for titles. You will always be my daughter.” His eyes went to Quaid, and his look seemed to pierce down to the heart of the tall man. “We must celebrate. We will eat now to celebrate the coming of the young lion hunter with her mate.”

  Suddenly Erin saw the glint of humor that was almost hidden in the tall Masai’s dark eyes, and she knew what was coming. “I think that would be wonderful. We haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. Would you like to eat a little, Quaid?”

  “I’m starved to death,” Quaid said.

  They had been in Africa for only three days, but already he loved it. He had heard a great deal about Nbuta and was somewhat in awe of the tall, strong warrior with the classic features.

  “Come. It would not do to offer old food. We will have a fresh meal.”

  Quaid glanced at Erin and saw that she was smiling. “Come along, husband,” she said.

  “All right, wife.”

  They followed Nbuta out to the herd. He had stopped to pick up a gourd with a large, open mouth. When they came to a big red cow, Nbuta put his hand on her and said, “Be still. You must honor our guest.” He quickly filled the gourd with milk and then reached for his spear, which he had given to Erin to hold. Quaid watched carefully and with some apprehension. The tall warrior expertly sliced a large vein in the animal’s neck and put the gourd under it. The rich crimson blood poured a steady stream, and finally Nbuta reached down and closed the artery with a blob of cow dung. He then shook the contents of the gourd, saying with a solemn air, “You are our guest, so you will go first.” He handed the gourd to Quaid, who took it but stood there uncertainly.

  “A happy marriage to both of you. We will eat and drink to that,” Nbuta said, and a smile touched his lips as he waited.

  Quaid Merritt knew that he was being put to a test. Even though Erin had told him of the Masai custom of drinking this unusual beverage, his stomach churned at the thought of what he had just seen. He did his best not to let his discomfort show on his face as he swirled the contents of the gourd, lifted it, and drank deeply. He blocked all thoughts from his mind, and when he lowered the gourd, he said steadily, “Thank you, Nbuta. Very good.”

  Erin threw her arms around him and cried, “I didn’t think you could do it!”

  Nbuta watched as the two embraced, and then he laughed. “You have a good man there. He would make a good Masai.”

  Quaid then said, “And I have a good woman.” He looked down at her and lifted the gourd high in the air. “Here’s to the Golden Angel!”

  GILBERT MORRIS spent ten years as a pastor before becoming Professor of English at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas and earning a Ph.D. at the University of Arkansas. During the summers of 1984 and 1985, he did postgraduate work at the University of London. A prolific writer, he has had over 25 scholarly articles and 200 poems published in various periodicals, and over the past years has had more than 70 novels published. His family includes three grown children, and he and his wife live in Alabama.

 

 

 


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