I held the door open for Denice as we walked to the back of the clinic. A small courtyard with a tiny footpath ran between the clinic and her home. It was completely blocked with the collapsed structure. I climbed the rubble as best as I could and peered in. The damage on the outside was worse than I first perceived. “What happened?”
“The snow came early, the weight of it was too much for the roof, and it collapsed.”
I looked up at the cloudy sky. “Does this happen often?”
“Every year—all over town. It’s the first time at the clinic, though. Of course, it would be the day before Teddy was to leave. Because the front blew in earlier than we expected, he had to go, or take a chance that he wouldn’t get through until spring. So, he went.” She shrugged.
I crossed my arms and scratched my beard as I sized up the project.
“Usually, we fix things like this when it thaws. But we really could use that generator now.”
“Okay. I’ll get started on it tomorrow.”
As I began walking away, she called after me. “Yesterday was the anniversary.”
“Excuse me?”
“Of Henry’s death. He died a year ago, yesterday.”
Suddenly, my heart sank. I’d broken every rule where Mary Beth was concerned. I knew I could be leaving at any time, and yet, I’d allowed myself to fall for her. I’d crossed the line, though I knew it was wrong. And when she stepped back, suddenly I felt jilted, without taking into consideration that there was more to her distancing herself from me than, well—me. Did I mention I don’t handle rejection well?
“She’s hurting, Eddie.” Denice’s eyes met mine. “So, maybe cut her a little slack.” I recognized the tone enough to realize it was more an order than a suggestion. Remember, I’ve lived with a woman, was raised by a woman, and have three sisters. Subtle hints were usually more than just suggestions.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She reached over and took my hand. “Don’t break her heart more than it’s already been broken.”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
A moment later she was gone, and I was there, alone, contemplating more than the wall at this point. I dropped my face into my hands and massaged my temples. Then I growled to myself before walking back into the clinic. The shadows had already overtaken the hallways, the waiting room empty of the infirmed. A small light shone from the surgical suite. As I neared the doorway, I spied Mary Beth just where I’d found her the night before, looking over lists and inventorying what few supplies she had left. She seemed to be straining to see the words on the paper in front of her face.
“My momma always said that when you try to read with no light, you’ll ruin your eyes.”
She gasped, grabbing her chest. “You startled me. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I was just back there,” I said, pointing over my shoulder. “Looking over the roof damage. Denice asked me to see if I could repair it.”
“That would be great,” she replied softly, looking back down at her list.
I walked to her side and took a flashlight from my pocket, clicking it on. “Is that better?”
Mary Beth nodded. “But I don’t think you’re going to want to stand here all night.”
“You never know.” I grinned at her when she looked up. “I could be persuaded.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “No, really. I’m going to be here awhile.”
“What else do I have to do?” I asked, matter-of-factly, looking around. “The bars close when the sun goes down. And I’m sure Abraham would much rather eat with his family, than the sweaty, smelly soldier he’s been bunking with for over a month.” She glanced at her clipboard, which I promptly removed from her hands. “It will go faster this way.”
Mary Beth looked up at me again, her eyes softening with her demeanor.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” she replied, nervously. “You read the list off to me, and I’ll finish inventorying.”
“Okay,” I smiled in return.
I began reading aloud the supplies listed, and she continued to pack them. We worked mostly in silence, casting uncomfortable, occasional glances at one another. She expressed frustration at how low her inventory was running. Sometimes items would mysteriously disappear, although usually, it was a local who needed something for their livestock or neighboring villages. Mostly, they stole because they didn’t have the resources to buy or trade for the items they needed, and it was too humbling for them to ask—or worse, beg.
Afghanistan has no government supplemented health care or social services. So, if you are poor, especially poor and living outside of a metropolitan area—which pretty much describes eighty-five percent of Afghanistan—then you are out of luck. When organizations like Mary Beth’s sought to place personnel in key positions all over Afghanistan to aid with social services and rebuilding infrastructure, the government would merely turn a blind eye. It was easier and less expensive than having to fund it themselves. Never mind that the powers that be knew full well that these organizations were of religious affiliations other than Islam.
Within two hours, we had finished. They were only missing a few splints, syringes, and Ace bandages. She could only pray that they wouldn’t run out of anything else before the pass thawed, which Mary Beth hoped would be by the first of March. My heart became conflicted when she said the date. What drew me nearer to home, a warm bed and a daily shower would take me farther from her. And as I listened to her talk, I couldn’t help falling for her all over again.
Mary Beth dropped into the chair, relieved to not only be through with her inventory, but early, at that. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at me.
“Anytime,” I smiled, in return. I found myself clenching my jaw, a nervous habit that I’d had since childhood. “Look, Mary Beth,” I began, looking down, embarrassed. “About yesterday.”
She stood and began to walk away, but I caught her wrist and held her fast.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said the things I said.”
“It’s okay.”
“No,” I clarified. “It’s not. I was wrong to—.”
Her hand moved to my lips. “You’re forgiven.”
“Oh, my God! Really?” I began to pace. “No, I don’t! I don’t deserve to be let off the hook that easily. I was a—. A jerk. I mean; I held a grudge all night and day. I’m so ashamed.”
Mary Beth chuckled.
“It’s not funny.”
She tried to cover her laugh, only to snicker behind her hand.
“How can you be so forgiving?” I brushed her hair back behind her ear.
“Forgiving is easy,” she smiled.
I sighed. “How can one person be so… so… good?”
Mary Beth laughed. “Not good. Human.”
“To err is human,” I quoted.
“To forgive, divine,” she finished.
I shook my head, stepped to her and took her face in my hands, then caressed her cheeks. Her hands went to mine, gently holding them. My forehead dropped to hers, our noses touching. “I never expected to be feeling what I’m feeling now. Here. With you.”
Mary Beth smiled. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
“There hasn’t been anyone for a long time, Mary Beth.”
“I’m scared,” she said, closing her eyes, before dropping her head to my chest.
“Of what?”
“Of what?” she scoffed quietly.
I raised her chin, then brushed her face with my fingers. “Of what?”
She shook her head, refusing to answer at first. I held her chin firm until her eyes were on mine, only she closed them, unable to meet my stare. “Of you. Of this.” Then she opened those beautiful, inviting eyes and I held them on mine; tears wetting her face. “Of losing someone else,” she whispered.
“Don’t cry,” I smiled, kissing the tears away. I bent my knees until I was eye to eye with her.
“What?” she asked dryly, wiping her nose with he
r sleeve.
“I’m sorry,” I grinned. “It’s just, even when you’re all sniveling and crying, you’re absolutely the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
“Whatever.” She sniffed and cut her eyes at me.
“Did you just say ‘whatever’ again?” I teased. “For an educated woman, you sure have a very trendy vocabulary.” I wiped the last of her tears with my thumbs.
“Don’t try and make light of… of…,” she floundered.
“Of this?” I completed her statement. I brushed back her hair, holding her head in my hands. “Trust me, I’d never minimize this. Us.”
Her eyes met mine again. “Us?”
“Yes, us. This.”
“What is this?” she asked, unable to take her eyes from mine. “What are we doing here?”
“Talking?”
I got the look again. “No, really. What are we doing here?”
I looked up at the ceiling and sighed before facing her again. “I’m not sure. And maybe whatever we are doing here, we shouldn’t be. It goes against everything I’ve been told—everything I’ve been trained not to do. And no matter how many times I try to stop thinking about you, need to stop thinking about you—I can’t.” I want to kiss you so badly that I ache inside. But I don’t dare kiss you again because I wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop, I thought. I took her face in my hands again. “You’re all I think about.” My eyes searched hers. Could they see into the depths of my soul and know what I really wanted to say? I love you with everything inside of me, and I never want to let you go.
Her eyes closed as she dropped her head to mine. Our foreheads kissed. “I don’t know if I can leave these people,” she breathed out.
I patted her head, the finality of her words settling in. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she murmured.
“It’ll be okay,” I exhaled as I stood upright, pulling her to my chest. “We’ll figure it out,” I held her tighter, and with a whisper of a promise told her again, “Everything will be okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After another night of tossing and turning in frustration, again, I drifted off just before dawn. Seemingly minutes later, I was awakened by the sound of heavy knocking. Abraham answered the door and the mullah entered. Groggily, I maneuvered to standing, leaning against the wall. I think he sensed my discomfort and motioned for me to sit, so I did. Then he handed Abraham the small plate he held, filled with breakfast fruits that he had dried himself, on his roof, just before the first snow. He walked to the repaired wall, the dark mudding still wet from the day before, and ran his hand over it.
Abraham placed a pillow on the floor to my right, and moments later, the mullah sat upon it. For a few minutes, we talked about his family and his health, and then he said what he came to say. “We would like you to teach us your trade.”
“My trade?”
“We would like you to instruct us how to build walls,” he stated. “You’ve taken things that we threw away and made them into something that will help us rebuild our village,” he said pointing at my patch job.
I didn’t know what to say. I glanced at Abraham.
“We would like you to teach us your trade,” he repeated.
I glanced at the wall before turning to him. Then, I smiled and put my hand on my heart. “I would be honored.”
“I will make sure that there are people to help you.”
I nodded. Then the mullah stood and backed out the door, bowing the whole time. When I turned to Abraham, he smiled. Within minutes, there was another knock on the door, and one of the tribal council stepped inside. We went through the same respectful greetings before he handed me a few nuts and berries. Then, minutes later he expressed his gratitude that I would be assisting them with their newly designated village improvement project. I glanced once more at Abraham, who shrugged.
For the next two hours, a stream of Ahura leaders and villagers came and went, all bearing gifts and thanking me for helping them with rebuilding their homes and shops. I began to envision an endless line outside my door, of men—arms filled with foods and gifts, much like after I first arrived. When the line of well-wishers finally wound down, half the morning was gone.
After a brief visit to the latrine/trash heap, Abraham and I walked into the clinic and straight to the generator room at the end of the narrow hallway. I had a promise to keep. With a tape measure Henry had used to initially build the clinic, I measured the wall and the missing portion of the roof. This would definitely be a challenging rebuild. But, it could be done. How quickly, was the question. That would depend on what the mullah meant when he said I would have help. I wanted to do as much as I could; however, I didn’t plan on taking all winter to finish it.
We worked our way back through the hallways of the clinic, arriving in the courtyard behind it, where at least two dozen men and boys were waiting for us. I looked from face to face and couldn’t help but smile. The village’s religious leader had been good to his word. I held my hand to my chest and bowed slightly. Then, as everyone stared, apparently looking to me for direction, I began to delegate.
I instructed the youngest, strongest men to remove the bigger, heavier sections of the wall. The boys I sent to the village dump to retrieve all the bottles they could find, along with all the bags of plastic and paper trash that they could carry, which would be used to stuff the bottles. The older men wanted to assist as well, so I asked for help with the breakdown of the old wall. Anything that was salvageable that hadn’t already broken down in melting snow could be repurposed. A stone fire pit was quickly constructed, and an old barrel was set over it to aid in creating the mud for the walls. Little children, eager to participate, cupped snow and ice into the barrel. Their tiny hands were perfect to assist in crumbling what could be broken down of the smaller, misshapen bits of the older adobe into the brew. Old men chiseled into blocks the pieces that could be cut into bricks and reused.
In a perfect world, I could drive down to the Home Depot to buy bags of sand and fill dirt. But, if the men that built this structure did it with whatever they could find here, then by golly, so could we. I looked around. Everyone had something to do. And, I was impressed by their eagerness to help. No one asked, “What’s in it for me?” or said, “My house is next.” They all came together with one purpose and one purpose only—to rebuild their community clinic.
For the next hour, several of us dug through the heavy rubble inside, trying to uncover the generator and the worktable where the satphone was supposed to be. Considering how much debris it was under, and how long it took us, I didn’t hold out much hope. That way, I told myself, I wouldn’t be too disappointed when I found it in pieces under wood and stone and dust. But, I was. What was left, I tossed against the wall, shattering it into unrecognizable fragments, startling those helping me.
With few hours of daylight remaining, I left Abraham to oversee the deconstruction in the courtyard while I moved indoors. Now it had been months since I had worked on my vehicles, and years since I’d worked on anything other than a car, but the machinery before me seemed simple enough. I ran my gloved hand over it, brushing away dust and debris. The heavy-duty generator appeared to have suffered minimal external damage in the cave-in. We uncovered several cans of fuel in a corner. I furrowed my brow. Could it be that easy? I added a little fuel, just enough to prime the engine, praying that when I pushed the button, I wouldn’t blow myself up. I hesitated and then pressed it. Nothing. I pulled the choke. Nada. I added a little more fuel and exerted more pressure against the button again. Damn it!
I peered through the hole in the wall and smiled at the progress. It was sunset, and we had dozens of bottles stuffed with trash and mud, the fallen wall was removed, and the opening had been squared off. I stepped through it and patted Abraham on the back. One by one, the townsfolk meandered away, chattering about their accomplishments and eager to continue tomorrow. I felt proud. Hating to feel beaten by inanimate object
s, I refused to look back at the generator that had failed to work.
Mullah Akhssey visited our job site several times, pleased with the progress and insisted that I join him for dinner that evening. I had put off his generosity long enough. Six weeks to be exact. I humbly accepted. Thank God it was my night for a bath since I was so dirty and sweaty. It was only my third one since arriving, my second one standing.
By now, my wound had almost entirely closed. Though I had a massive scab on my thigh, it had healed with no infection and few complications. The bruises on my body had faded to yellow and were almost gone. The scratches and gashes on my face all but gone, with minimal visible scarring remaining.
It had been two days since my last checkup, and my rehabilitation so far was going well. I barely limped and had most of my range of motion back. I hadn’t seen Mary Beth all day, and my heart ached to see her again. I wanted to go to the clinic and wondered how obvious it would be if I injured myself again just to have a legitimate excuse to be there.
I shook my head suddenly. “Stop it!” I said aloud to myself. “You’re leaving. She’s staying,” I added, under my breath. “Quit making an impossible situation worse.”
I finished sponging my body, feeling somewhat refreshed, though I knew it wouldn’t last; especially if I were going to be working on rebuilding walls and roofs over the next few days. I had just finished putting on my clean tunic, the one that had been defrosting on the line for the past week when there was another knock on the door. Denice peeked her head in and grinned.
“Hey,” I said, smiling a greeting.
“Thought you could use these.” She handed me a small booklet and a small box of savory nuts. She read the confusion on my face. “I heard you were visiting the mullah. It’s customary to bring a gift.”
I nodded gratefully. My friendly neighborhood dentist had just saved me immense embarrassment on behalf of an uneducated—rather, ignorant—Westerner as to the etiquette of local custom. In my other hand, I held the owner’s manual for the generator. “Thanks. This will definitely help.”
The Missionary Page 15