The Missionary

by Margaret Ferguson

  “What’s he saying?” she asked, confused. I glanced out the windshield that Mary Beth had scraped off, the defroster making a meager attempt to keep up. I wiped the window with my arm until I could see. And what I saw was at least a dozen men with rifles yelling and shaking them into the air.

  “They were thanking us for dropping by and told us to come back anytime we wanted to for tea.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she murmured, watching cautiously, I’m sure, concerned for our safety.

  “Oh, and I told them to stop by the clinic if they needed anything else.”

  She turned to me. “Did you really?”

  “Sure did,” I smiled, mischievously.

  “Did they tell you we could come back to vaccinate?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you tell them that without vaccinations others would get sick?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m guessing he didn’t believe you.”

  “Good guess,” I said flatly, as I drove as fast as I could, away from the town.

  “Well, I guess we won’t be going back there for a while.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m going back tonight.”

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  “They’ve got one of my men in there.” I nodded over my shoulder as I turned the wheel. “Abraham found him.”

  Mary Beth looked back, and Abraham grinned at her before she turned and stared straight out the front windshield, unsure what to say.

  “I’m going back there tonight, and I’m going to get him out, if I have to kill every last one of them to do it.” Suddenly, I was met with silence—complete, absolute silence. I glanced in the rearview mirror at a solemn Abraham, who I’m sure understood at least part of what I had said. When I turned to Mary Beth, she was focused on the side window; refusing to face me. I reached over and took her hand, which she didn’t pull away. “Hey,” I said, drawing her attention back to me. “Everything’s going to be okay. Remember?” I smiled sincerely.

  Mary Beth returned to staring at the fogged window, lost in her thoughts.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  We had plenty of fuel to make it back to our little berg in the mountains, but I would have to scavenge more to assure that I not only had enough to get to the rendezvous point, but to where the extraction was to take place. We were down to less than three days now, and I was getting anxious. It had been a long, quiet trip home, and with so much on my mind, I didn’t even bother singing to break the tension.

  When we arrived, we were greeted by dozens of townspeople welcoming us home. Mary Beth climbed from the truck without a word. Through the windshield, I watched her walk sullenly past Denice, through the crowd, and into the clinic. The boys sat silently, as though waiting for permission to get down. When we stood beside the truck together, the mob gathered around us.

  We all turned, forced smiles and accepted the well wishes. And as the crowd dissipated and we were left facing each other again, they looked at me expectantly.

  I sighed. “You can’t go, fellas,” I said in English. “I can’t take you,” I repeated in Pashto. “It’s too dangerous.” I put my hands on one of each of their shoulders. “I’m sorry, guys. You have been a tremendous help. But this one, I have to do on my own.”

  Then I turned away from them and walked to the clinic. I searched until I found Mary Beth going over the inventory again, I guess to see what had been depleted while she was gone; although I’m pretty sure she was just trying to appear busy when she heard me coming. I took the clipboard from her hands and turned her around, holding her by the shoulders.

  “I have to go back for him. You understand that, right?”

  Her eyes were on the dirt floor under our feet. “I know,” she said faintly. When she looked up, I saw the sadness in them. “So, when is your rescue scheduled?”

  I drew in a deep breath. “Day after tomorrow.”

  She nodded ever so slightly, biting her lip.

  I lowered myself until we were eye to eye. When she dropped her gaze, I lifted her chin with my finger. “There’s always room for one more on the transport,” I said hopefully. “Leave all this in Denice’s capable hands.”

  Her fingers moved to her eyes, and she rubbed them. “I can’t do that to her. You know that.”

  “I know.” I nodded. But your contract is up in a couple of months and then… Maybe we can—.” I felt myself stumbling. “You know—make plans?”

  “Plans?”

  “To see each other, you know—stateside?”

  “Hmmm,” she hummed, distracted.

  “Maybe try this under less stressful circumstances.”

  “Try what?” she asked, coyly, her eyes again meeting mine.

  I drew in a deep breath, glanced around and then exhaled, leaning nearer to her. “Go on a date.” I took her hands in mine. “Get to know one another better.”

  “A date?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “You’re right. A date might be kind of boring after all this.” My fingers gingerly brushed her cheeks. I know it may sound cheesy, but I felt my heart skip a beat. And, as I looked deeply into her eyes, I knew—I knew—I wanted to hold her in my arms every day. I wanted to wake up next to her every morning. I wanted to be the one she laughed with, the one to dry her tears. It was at that precise moment in time that I knew she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

  I’d known this exasperating, stubborn, beautiful woman only a few weeks, and yet, I’d foolishly allowed myself to fall deeply, madly and undeniably, in love with her. For the record, I’ve been in love very few times in my life. And, yes, I did love all of them. But, somehow, this—was different. I was different.

  “Or, we could just forgo the dating and get married,” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

  She looked at me completely shocked, as though I’d lost my senses. “Married? You did say…married?” she scoffed then turned away.

  “What’s so funny?” I tried to read her reactions, unsure if she was serious or not, though I must admit, I enjoyed watching her squirm.

  “You. Marriage. This!” Mary Beth spoke emphatically, arms flailing. “You haven’t known me two months.”

  “Actually,” I glanced at my watch. “Fifty-six days, eighteen hours and forty-nine minutes,” I grinned. “But the heart wants what the heart wants.” From her expression, you’d think there was a horn growing out of my forehead. I narrowed the distance between us. “So, you’re going to tell me you don’t feel the same way I do?”

  She shook her head, perusing the list on her clipboard. A moment later she slapped the paper and pen onto the makeshift gurney. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  I took her hand, caressing it gently, more than slightly amused. “I know exactly what I’m asking.”

  “You’ve never been married.” She tried to turn, but I blocked her escape. “Marriage is work.” Mary Beth exclaimed. “It’s commitment and sacrifice and accountability.” She shook her head, never once facing me. “Marriage?” she exhaled dramatically as she crossed her arms. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

  I stepped closer, brushing back her hair, nodding confidently, although it was lost on her since she refused to look up at me.

  “I do,” I replied playfully. When Mary Beth peered up at me, I tucked my finger under her chin.

  “Have you forgotten that we haven’t agreed on a single thing since you arrived?”

  “We agree on this.” I took her face into my hands and kissed her. Mary Beth tried to back away, only, I held her tight, kissing her more passionately until she no longer resisted my embrace. Soon our tongues were dancing together, sweetly. Perfectly.

  We finally stopped, mostly to catch our breath. Slowly, Mary Beth opened those gorgeous brown eyes. As I pulled away, she added, “What makes you think I’d want to date you, much less marry you?” I thought I caught a wisp of a smile in them.

  “Because you can’t resist me,” I grinned, pulling her closer, interrupting her
continued objections. “That is, if you could put up with a temperamental,” I stopped between every adjective I used to describe myself, to plant small kisses on her. “Selfish. Arrogant. Obstinate old soldier, like me.”

  “You forgot argumentative,” she said, allowing my kissing to continue down her throat. “And difficult.”

  “Difficult?” I held my head up regally. “I’m not difficult.” Then I smiled as Mary Beth fell against my chest. I hugged her tightly. “The last thing I ever thought I would do, much less wanted to do, was to fall in love with you. I mean, you’re not so easy, yourself.”

  And, then those beautiful, dark eyes stared up at me and smiled.

  “You’re obstinate.” I hesitated deliberately for dramatic effect. “Not to mention, inflexible.”

  She opened her mouth, but I silenced any attempt to defend herself by placing my fingers over her lips.

  “And, you’re determined in a way that’s not just annoying, it’s admirable. You’re in a country—of your own free will, I might add—that considers you property. You spend every day serving those who have little or no respect for you, helping some who may have even killed your husband, and treat them like they are family. You’re the most loving, selfless woman I’ve ever known. You deliberately put your life on the line to save a child who one day might try to kill you, not to mention possibly me.” I pulled her to my chest again. “And, I might add, you’re hard-headed.”

  Mary Beth grinned up at me. “It’s a gift.”

  It was now my turn to chuckle. “That it is.” I held her face in my hands. “I want to spend my life with you, Mary Beth. I want to make babies with you.”

  Mary Beth stepped away and began to toy with the clipboard, again.

  “But what if I want to come back?” Those dark eyes turned to me. “What if this is where I’m supposed to be?”

  “Then, I’ll come with you.” She was running out of objections. “Don’t you get it? I love you. I want to be with you,” I added, following her.

  When Mary Beth turned back to me, there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “What if…” she began, “what if we can’t have children?”

  I furrowed my brow, stepping to her.

  Mary Beth lowered her gaze. “What if I can’t have children?”

  Without even hesitating I answered, “I don’t care.” I took her into my arms and lifted her face until she saw the sincerity in my eyes. “I don’t care. We can adopt,” I reasoned. “And if we don’t adopt, we’ll get a dog.”

  She exhaled sadly, then looked up at me. “But,” she sighed, wiping away a tear. “What if I’m more of a cat person?”

  I exhaled dramatically. “Then I’ll get you a damned cat.

  Mary Beth smiled. “How is it that you always have an answer for everything?”

  “Why is it that you always have an excuse for everything?”

  “Because I’m scared,” she breathed out, pressing her head against my chest.

  I petted her hair as her breath warmed my neck.

  “Now, who’s the glass-half-empty person?”

  When she smiled up at me, I kissed her softly before drawing her tightly into my arms.

  “I’m scared, too,” I confessed, squeezing her closer. “But,” I breathed out. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  I glanced down at her without letting her go. “Because a wise woman recently told me so.”

  Mary Beth leaned back in my grasp.

  “And she’s got more faith than anyone I know.” I tilted her chin up with my finger. “He’s got this,” I reminded her, not just saying the words, but actually believing them.

  When she smiled up at me, I moved to kiss her. Only Denice walked in, interrupting us.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I looked at my watch as we parted. “I’ve got to get going.” I reached down and held Mary Beth’s face again in my hands, kissing her sweetly. My lips moved to her ears. “No words,” I whispered, my eyes on Denice as I read the concern in her expression.

  “No words,” Mary Beth cooed in return.

  Hesitantly, I pulled away, not wanting to let her go. “I’ll be back by daybreak.” I stopped beside Denice and nodded over my shoulder. “Take care of my girl,” I said to the surprised woman as I walked away.

  Before climbing back into the vehicle, I checked the medical bag, packed another change of clothes, and then went to see the mullah. There were a few more things I needed before my trip, and he was the only one I could trust to ask. Not to mention that I wanted to make the town’s religious leader aware of our encounter in the last village.

  He listened intently as I gave him the abbreviated version of our trip, and then he insisted that I stay for a meal and a smoke. Although I had very little time to spare, I didn’t want to disrespect a man of whom I was about to ask a tremendous favor. So, we ate until I was full, and then we sat on comfortable pillows to smoke. The man took a deep drag on the hookah as he contemplated my request. I knew it was a longshot, but I had nowhere else to turn.

  “You have been a guest of ours for some time now, and you’ve never made any requests of us,” he exhaled, the mist hanging thick in the air.

  “You have been so very generous that I would never want to take advantage of your kindness. And I would not make such a request of you, if it weren’t something so complicated that I was left with no other choice.”

  He handed me the pipe, which I knew was his way of sealing the deal, so I inhaled deeply before slowly releasing. I closed my eyes, feeling a little dizzy.

  When I opened them again, he studied me for many moments before adding, “Koh har qadar baashed, sar-e khod raah dared.” Even if a mountain is very high, it has a path to the top. I blinked. Suddenly, everything became very clear. There was no “us” and no “them”—no struggle or strife. No conflict. There was no more hiding or hatred. No suspicion. No division of country or faith. In that moment, we were merely two men having a smoke.

  He nodded in understanding. Then, the mullah gave me a toothy smile, rose, and walked away from me. I hesitated, then stood and followed him down a hallway, past rooms that held his wife and children, to a room that had nothing in it but a beautiful Persian rug with his prayer mat on top. He leaned over and lifted both, revealing a wooden door. As he opened the door, he held out his hand.

  “What I have is yours to use, my friend.”

  I gazed down the dark opening, then pulled the flashlight from my pocket and shone it down there. Holy crap! This peaceful, simple mullah in this plain, quiet town, had a friggin’ arsenal beneath his house. I climbed down the hole and began bringing out things I might need. Grenades, two rifles, two pistols, plenty of ammunition, and several flares. When I popped my head up from the hole, he stared down at me, smiled and nodded.

  Getting the equipment across town was tricky, as I drew more than a few stares with my bulky garments. It looked like I’d been shoplifting at Academy and didn’t care who saw. I unloaded everything inside the truck as quickly as possible, hoping that Mary Beth wouldn’t walk up and see what I had acquired.

  I arrived at the vehicle at the same time as a multitude of townsmen, all carrying various sized containers of fuel for the Unimog. The mullah or the boys must have spread the word that I was leaving again. So once more, these gentle, kind people sacrificed of themselves for me. I gazed amongst the bearded men and the canisters they held. OSHA would have had a conniption had they seen the plastic and metal and even rudely constructed containers from Styrofoam and plastic wrap that were used to transport the gasoline. They were carrying what was remaining of their own fuel, probably all they had left for the winter, sacrificing for my trip. And, all I could do in return was bow gratefully as I emptied each one into the vehicle.

  When the ant trail of villagers was gone, I began to double-, and triple-check my gear one last time before finally climbing into the oversized truck. I was a little surprised tha
t I hadn’t seen Abdullah or Abraham since arriving almost four hours ago. More than likely, they were still explaining our adventures to their families. I contemplated seeing Mary Beth once more, but I didn’t want to upset her any further. I remembered her rebuffs to my proposal. Had I proposed, or merely suggested we marry? I smacked my forehead. Not exactly the romantic proposal she deserved.

  When I placed the key in the ignition, I glanced out of the windshield. Mary Beth stood before me, in the clinic doorway. I smiled through the fogged glass at her, as she simply stared back. I memorized her face, one last time, before glancing away.

  How many times had I selfishly put myself and my career before the women in my life? And yet, never before had I felt so torn as I did now. Never before had I wanted to stay, rather than go. You have a job to do, soldier, Kevan admonished. Do your job and then get the girl. My sigh was filled with frustration. Fifty-six days, twenty-two hours and—I looked at my watch—fifty-three minutes of frustration. Not including my time hanging in the tree.

  When I looked back up, Mary Beth was gone. I breathed in deeply as I turned the key. Kevan was right. I had a job to do. It’s why I was here. I needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Rescuing my teammate. Saving Mikey’s life.

  I watched until the RPM’s dropped and then drove away.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The moon had somehow disappeared, and it was snowing, which only made it more difficult to see. For all I knew, I was about to drive off of a mountain, and someone would find me at the bottom of it sometime after the snow thawed, perplexed looks on their faces as to how I got there. I rechecked my watch. Damn. I was late. One thing they teach in Special Forces training is to never, ever be late to a rescue mission. It looks bad in the reports. When I looked up from my wrist, I slammed on the brakes. Another thing they teach you in Special Forces training—never, ever run over the guy you’re rescuing. That definitely looks bad in the reports.