by Roger Bruner
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What are the kids like in your church?”
“Have you ever been on a mission trip before?”
“I love your Southern accent. I hate those fake ones you hear in movies and on TV, but yours is real, and it sounds neat!”
“I thought people down South always said ‘y’all.’ But you speak English good.”
“You have a cell phone with all the minutes you want, unlimited texting, and a car? Wow! Has God ever blessed you!”
“Is it true you’ve done volunteer work with migrants? Cool!”
“I’d have run home as fast as I could if I’d broken my arm yesterday. You have a lot of spunk!”
“Some of us are already talking about having a team reunion. You’ll come, won’t you?”
“Do you enjoy music, Kim? Are you a good singer? You must be since you brought that karaoke thing.”
“Do you know what you want to major in, Kim? If you do, you’re so lucky. I haven’t got a clue what I want to do.”
“Your mom and dad are still married after all those years? How wonderful! Mine have been divorced since I was ten. Yours must really love each other.”
“It’s an honor and a privilege to have you on my team, Kim. Welcome back, and let me know what I can do to help you.”
An honor and a privilege? Frank? Was that really Frank who just said that? Frank who hated my guts yesterday and seemed almost gleeful about my accident? He’d just smiled at me, too.
I’d never seen him smile before.
If this wasn’t The Twilight Zone, it must be heaven—or at least a convincing preview. Never had I witnessed such a complete reversal of attitude. It was more than I could have dreamed of, much less hoped for.
But I noticed something curious about the way the team members welcomed me back. Several things, actually. Although the team members didn’t line up as such, they kept appearing at regular intervals. Like someone had assigned each person a fifteen-second time slot, and as soon as one person approached the end of his allotted time, another one showed up.
But stranger than that was the way each of them looked at Aleesha before addressing me. I could best describe the looks in their eyes as a cross between fear and hesitation. They looked at her again afterward as if asking whether they’d done a satisfactory job.
When Aleesha gave a nod—apparently one of approval—their look of relief reminded me of Rob after I forgave him yesterday.
Aleesha never smiled once until the last person finished greeting me.
Just before graduation, one of my favorite teachers confessed that she never let her students see her smile until after Thanksgiving. Feigning an almost frightening authority in the classroom before letting her hair down and revealing her humanity helped establish a standard of discipline that lasted throughout the school year.
But why did I remember that story now, and how did it relate to Aleesha and the other team members?
I didn’t keep count, but it seemed like every single team member spoke to me that morning. Although their well wishes sounded 100 percent sincere, they came across as premeditated; I felt as though I’d just watched an entire graduating class try to write meaningful yearbook inscriptions for someone they knew about but didn’t know.
The fact that no one had given me a chance to respond made me feel like I was the yearbook. Strange. Very strange indeed.
Aleesha grinned from ear to ear.
“Sometimes stereotypes work to a person’s advantage,” she said, “especially in the hands of a budding drama major.”
She laughed, and I stared at her as if she had three heads. Still under the influence of codeine, I might not have found two heads to be particularly unusual.
“Call it a little old-fashioned fire-and-brimstone preaching, if you like,” she said as we headed away from the mess tent.
I shook my head vigorously—as if that might make things clearer. It didn’t do anything but make me dizzy.
We settled down on the ground near the churchyard. Aleesha opened a small can of meat for me, and I said grace. When I looked at it more closely, lying motionless in the can like a body in an aluminum coffin, I almost retracted my blessing. I liked potted meats fine, but not served that way.
“Let me know if you need help getting up, Kim,” one of the guys said as he passed by.
“I will, uh …”
“My name is Geoph. That’s with a G-e-o and a p-h.”
“With what …?” I responded more loudly than I meant to.
“Geoff with a G-e-o and two f’s. I was just teasing about the p-h. I wouldn’t want you to think I was ‘p-h unbalanced.’”
I smiled back. I couldn’t imagine anything unbalanced about him. He was gorgeous, and he looked so English. Of course, since I’d never met anyone from England, I was just imagining that part. Although G-e-o-f-f was a British spelling, his accent didn’t sound any more English than Aleesha’s or mine.
“Thanks, Geoff with a G-e-o and two f’s. I’ll let you know if I need help. I just might. You never know.”
I never had any problem attracting guys. I didn’t even have to try most of the time. Unfortunately, I was just as good at making girls jealous, and I never meant to do that.
But Aleesha was the only person I wanted to talk to now. Giving up this chance to let gorgeous, humorous Geoff practice his charms on me meant I was serious about finding out what Aleesha had done.
chapter twenty-seven
I sighed as I watched Geoff walk away, but I felt confident I’d get to talk to him again.
“So what’s up, Aleesha?” I tried keeping my tone casual. Although I would’ve preferred hearing a voluntary confession to having to badger her about the team’s strange behavior in the mess tent, I’d bug the daylights out of her if I had to.
“Whatever do you mean, Kim?” she said, her arms folded and her eyes upturned in feigned innocence.
“I know you’ve seen The Twilight Zone. You told me you have.”
“Yes, yes, great show—filmed in living color like every other show back then: black and white.”
“Who but you!”
We giggled together.
“Now, what were you saying a few minutes ago about stereotypes, budding drama majors, and fire-and-brimstone preaching? Come on. ‘Fess up.”
“You really expect a full confession, girl?”
“Yes, and the sooner the better.” Concerned that I might have sounded too impatient, I toned down. “I’m not upset with you, Aleesha. But I need to understand what happened in the mess tent a few minutes ago. You obviously had something to do with it. That’s all.”
Then I punctuated my words with a patient smile.
“That’s okay, then. Your teammates—all one hundred and however many of them there are—were sincere in what they said to you.”
“Yes, they sounded like it. But wh—?”
“They knew they’d better be.”
“You didn’t threaten to beat them up, did you? They looked half-scared.” I smiled once more to show I was teasing. Mostly so, anyhow.
“No, girl. And don’t go suggesting any more ideas like that. You’re trying to give up swearing. I’m trying to give up violence.”
“Aleesha? You? Violence?”
“Yes, Aleesha. Yes, me. Yes, violence. If there’s any violence around, I want to be as far from it as I can.”
“Oh.” I must have sounded disappointed.
“Gal, I’m a pacifist for sure. You know that now, but they don’t. So I preached a little sermon to them while you and Mr. Rob were in San Diego. Let’s just say I emphasized a few points from the Bible the way only a very talented but extremely modest freshman drama and theater major of the dark-skinned persuasion can do.”
Aleesha started laughing then, and she laughed until the tears streamed down her face. Although I tried to resist laughing—her confession sounded too serious to take lightly—her laughter was contagious. One of us would look at the other and start to say some
thing, and then we’d break out laughing all over again. We must have gone on that way for five minutes, although it seemed more like twenty.
People have a hard enough time ignoring female teenagers in the midst of a giggling jag, but it’s worse when the observers are teens, too. After several minutes, we’d attracted quite a crowd.
Eighty or ninety of our group gathered around, plus some of the villagers. The girls started laughing first, but the boys soon became innocent and unwilling participants, too.
We’d momentarily become one in common laughter.
As soon as the laughter died down, everyone looked around as if to say, “That was fun. What shall we do next?”
Aleesha wasn’t one to ignore a crowd, or so I was about to discover. I didn’t know if the actress in her was coming out or if she was just a purebred country ham seeking an appreciative audience to try her saltiness on. Either way, she took advantage of the opportunity to address the group. “Ladies, gentlemen, and, uh, respected elders …”
Rob and Charlie performed awkward bows of acknowledgment. Their faces were still red from laughing so hard.
“Miss Kim and I have been discussing how nice you were before breakfast, and that surprised her in light of certain recent, unfortunate events that shall be spoken of no more. Nonetheless, she’s grateful for your interest and well wishes. She’d better be. Right?”
Cautious laughter rippled through the crowd.
“But her curiosity has put me in a bind. Not only has she insisted that I explain, she’s also questioned whether I’ve threatened you with violence. Would anyone speak to that, please? Totally voluntarily, of course.”
“No, Kim,” Geoff said. “Aleesha didn’t even hint at violence. All she did—do I have to call her ‘Miss Aleesha’?”
“Call me whatever you want to as long as you do it with a modicum of respect, boy. Even if you call me ‘that fool black girl’ just do it with respect and we’ll be fine.”
She giggled. Several other people in the crowd did, too, but not as many as I’d expected. People didn’t seem to know how to take Aleesha. I wasn’t so sure myself now.
Was this the same girl who’d befriended me at orientation and become my second best friend after Betsy Jo, or had that girl disappeared in The Twilight Zone, leaving this new Aleesha in her place?
On the other hand, Geoff couldn’t have looked more shocked if Aleesha had told him she was a cannibal and he was to be her next meal.
She must have felt sorry for him, though. “I’m just teasing, Geoff. Just apply the Golden Rule. Now, what were you starting to say?”
“Uh, right, Aleesha,” Geoff said. Although he sounded a tad hesitant, he continued. “Kim, Aleesha preached us a little sermon. That’s all.”
“A little sermon? Aleesha? This Aleesha? The one standing right beside me? Her?” I started to point at her, but pointed at the ground instead as if I’d just discovered I was holding a smoking gun. Or at least a loaded one.
Disbelief overwhelmed me. So Aleesha had been serious when she told me she’d preached a sermon.
Once more, she stood with her eyes upturned in mock innocence. She could have modeled for a cherub statue.
“That’s right, Kim,” a blond said from the edge of the mess tent. I recognized her as the girl who’d admired my presence of mind dealing with the missed flight. “She reminded us of some things we Christians had forgotten about.”
Another voice chimed in. “She brought up what Jesus said about being known by our fruit … and she pointed out how rotten our fruit had been yesterday and the day before.”
And another. “Aleesha mentioned what Jesus said about cutting back unproductive vines to produce more and better fruit.”
“Judge not, that ye be not judged.” The voice spoke in what I took to be a foreign accent.
“New York City,” Aleesha whispered when she saw the questioning look on my face. I just knew he was foreign. “Foreign” is anywhere not in the South.
She beamed as one person after another brought out different sermon points.
“Jesus only had one opportunity to forgive the people who crucified Him, so He didn’t put it off. He did it from the cross despite the fact His enemies weren’t sorry for what they were doing. Then Aleesha reminded us how sorry you were.”
The blond spoke again. “Jesus said if we loved one another, it would show—and if we didn’t, it would show even more. What influence would we have on these villagers if we failed to love one of our own team?”
One very shy-looking boy—he didn’t look old enough to be part of our group—appeared to be struggling to make himself say something. That had to be Neil, the boy genius who’d graduated from high school at sixteen. I felt sorry for him. I used to be that bashful myself. He must feel pretty out of place with this group. I made a mental note to befriend him and show my acceptance.
I understood firsthand how rejection felt.
“Kim … Miss Kim,” he said as if he’d never addressed a slightly older girl before, “Aleesha was your Good Samaritan when the rest of us walked on by, ignoring your needs. We knew you were hurting; but instead of tending to your wounds, we pressed a figurative crown of thorns down on your head.”
“Aleesha said that?” I said, gasping.
“No, ma’am,” the man-boy said, apparently too modest to admit that those comparisons were original, “but we could see what we’d done. Passing by on the other side of the road and leaving you lying there was horrible, but we came by and beat you up even more.”
That was one smart kid all right.
The momentary quiet exploded into spontaneous applause—the kind that would have felt great after my “I’m staying” speech at orientation. Shy, young Neil had forced himself to speak, and he’d said eloquently what was in everyone’s heart that day.
One by one, others shared bits and pieces from Aleesha’s impromptu sermon. Her powerfully inspired sermon had me in tears. I started to appreciate the diversity of our group and to imagine how each of our individual gifts might prove useful.
Whoops. My turn. “I can’t thank you enough for your support.”
I felt a blush bathing my face at the clichéd way I started. Before it could turn into a flood, I struggled to find something more precise—more meaningful—to say. I wanted to speak fluently, but my nerves took control of my tongue, and I stumbled through my speech the best I could.
“The—the truth is I … the truth is I don’t know how to express my grati—to express my appreciation any better than that. I’m embarrassed to admit how disillusioned I—I felt during orientation, and it didn’t get any better at breakfast yesterday or right after my accident. But you’ve given me a much-needed lesson in forgiveness, too. I hope we can work together as a … as a team now. I’ll do my best to help any way I can—even with—with my broken arm.”
“Amen!” Aleesha said.
From somewhere—perhaps an angel started it—“When God’s People Come Together” filled the mess tent with ever-increasing volume as one person after another joined in singing. Enough kids knew the parts to give the sound an unbelievable a cappella richness. Singing in an angel choir couldn’t have been a more glorious experience.
“When God’s people come together,
His Spirit makes them one.
When God’s people feed on His Word,
Their hearts beat to His truth.
When God’s people pray together,
He gives them hope and strength.
When God’s people sing together,
His joy flows from their lips.”
After a number of repetitions, someone changed songs. The new selection couldn’t have been a more perfect follow-up.
“Wherever there is need, that’s where I must go With feet that move in Jesus’ name so the love of God will show.
Wherever there are problems, that’s where I must be
With hands that work in Jesus’ name so God’s love
will show through me.
<
br /> Wherever there are problems, wherever
there is need,
As the hands and feet of Jesus Christ,
Let me go as God’s love leads.
Let me do as God’s love leads.
Let me serve as God’s love leads.”
Hands reached out to hands, and nobody wanted to quit singing. Aleesha’s voice—rich, clear, and beautiful—rose above the rest.
The villagers held hands with us, too, even though they didn’t understand what we were talking about or why and what we were singing. But the Spirit had obviously moved them. Whatever they witnessed that morning was good.
Just as suddenly and unexpectedly as the singing began, we reached a stopping point. I didn’t realize until several minutes later that I was still holding hands with the person on my left. The one on my right was gently touching my shoulder.
Part of me was dying to say, “I’ve got to ask one last question.” Not wanting to break the mood, however, I remained silent. I couldn’t be the one to poke a hole in this reverent balloon of fellowship.
“Kim, you look like you want to say something,” Geoff said more loudly than he needed to. Although I might feel guilty about it later, I resented his doing that.
I shook my head. I frowned. I glared. But he was unstoppable. He couldn’t have shattered the worshipful atmosphere more completely if he’d meant to.
“This feeling of love and unity is overwhelming,” I began. I could barely speak for sobbing. As tears of joy kept running down my face, I forgot about my anger at Geoff. I’d never experienced God’s presence in such a real way before.
I still didn’t want to talk, but I had to. “Maybe Geoff did us a favor by bringing us back down to earth. We can’t build houses in the valley if we stay on the mountaintop all day.”
I saw smiles and nods of agreement. “But I do have one more question, and it’s bugging the daylights out of me. You all looked like you were scared to death of Aleesha when you spoke to me earlier. Yet you’ve insisted she didn’t threaten you—”
“Oh, we didn’t exactly say that, Kim,” Geoff said.
“She threatened to preach the sermon all over again if we didn’t show we’d learned our lesson the first time around,” the blond explained. “She told us she’d keep repreaching it until it took, and she’d make it longer every time.”
