After the Rains

by Deborah Raney

  After breakfast Monday morning, Daria went with Natalie out to the cool shade of the porch to sit. Meghan was already at work in the clinic, and the men were loading the plane for their trip to Bogotá as well as getting David’s provisions ready to go back on the boat to Timoné. David was leaving this afternoon, and tomorrow morning Daria and Cole and Natalie would fly home.

  It had all gone too quickly. But it had been wonderful to spend this time with her daughter here in Colombia, to see how much Natalie had come to love this country Daria had once called home. Natalie had grown up so much in the few months she’d been here. Last night Daria and Cole had lain awake in the guest room next to Nattie’s and marveled together at the changes they’d seen in her. And while they had begun to suspect from Natalie’s letters that there was something between David and Natalie, seeing them together had left no doubt.

  “I wasn’t ready to like him one bit, Dar,” Cole had told her. “But I do. I like him a lot. I wish he wasn’t quite so old, but it’s obvious that he loves Nattie. And he’s good to her.”

  Daria had laughed softly.

  “What’s funny?” Cole said.

  “It’s just interesting that you think David Chambers is old. Oh, to be as ‘old’ as he is again! You’re no spring chicken, my darling.”

  “Well, you know what I mean. I don’t like to think of Nattie widowed young or nursing an old man someday down the road. She’s in love. I’m sure she hasn’t thought that far ahead.”

  “I’m sure God has,” Daria chided.

  “You’re right, as always,” he’d whispered, pulling her close.

  They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

  Now, seated across from Natalie on the porch, Daria fanned herself and took a sip of the chilled sweet tea Meghan had brewed for them. “Natalie, I’m crazy about David,” she said, “but I’ll have you know I’m not so crazy about his calling. I suppose there’s no question that you’ll be going back to Timoné?”

  Natalie nodded. “As soon as I can, Mom. It’s my calling too.”

  “Oh, Nattie, I know. But as a mother, I don’t like it one bit.” She sighed. “What about Evan? What happened with him?”

  Natalie shook her head. “There’s nothing between us anymore, Mom. From the sound of his letters, I think maybe he’s found someone else. A certain ‘Candace’ has come up in his e-mails a lot lately.”

  Daria rubbed the corner of the tablecloth between her thumb and forefinger. “This love for David isn’t.” She began.

  “On the rebound?” Natalie shook her head vigorously. “No, Mom. Not at all. I think things were really over with Evan before I ever left Kansas.”

  “Well, I had to ask.”

  “I know. And I did write to Evan to let him know what’s happened. I owed him that much.”

  Daria put a hand on her arm. “I’m so happy for you, Natalie.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’m so glad you and Daddy could come and meet David. I wish you could come to Timoné sometime.”

  Timoné. Daria winced, struggling to stay clear of the whirlpool of memories that threatened to pull her in. She didn’t know whether she could handle seeing the place where she had left Nathan, could handle seeing him there still caring for the people she’d left so long ago. “Maybe someday, honey … maybe someday.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I know this is where I’m supposed to be. Somehow, I just know it … right here.” Natalie put a hand gently over her heart. “And … well, Dad’s there. And he needs me.”

  “Oh, Nattie, more than anything, I’m so happy that you’ve had this time to get to know your father. You can’t imagine how much that means to me.”

  She covered her daughter’s hand with her own, and they exchanged teary smiles.

  Natalie’s eyes held a knowing beyond their years, and she said, “I think maybe I do know, Mom.”

  Natalie lay down midafternoon for yet another Nurse Meg–prescribed nap. David had promised that he would wake her before he left for Timoné. But she had lain awake for the past half-hour thinking and praying. Her thoughts were not troubled, though she didn’t know how long it might be before she saw David again. Instead of feeling panic at his going, she felt perfect peace. Instead of feeling gloomy about the weeks—perhaps months—they would be apart, she felt anticipation for the things God would teach her while she was away—and for the reunion she and David would have when finally she was able to return to her beloved Timoné.

  She was just thinking of getting up when she heard a soft knock at her door. David stepped into her room, and the rich aroma of coffee and buttered toast wafted from the tray he held in his hands. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said, putting the tray on her nightstand and placing a warm hand on her cheek. He helped her sit up in the bed.

  She yawned and smiled. “I think surely I’ve slept as much in these last two weeks as I have in my whole life.”

  “You just keep it up. It’s the best thing you could do to get well now.”

  “It does make the time go more quickly,” she told him. “I’ll be grateful for that while I’m back in the States.” She had almost said “while I’m back home,” but what she had told David that day on the river was true—Timoné was her home now. And even more so since she’d come to love David.

  He went to the window and rolled up the bamboo shades, letting the light stream across her bed. She watched him as he stood, illumined by the tropical sun. She loved the way that sun had burnished golden highlights in his dark hair and beard, and coppered his skin as deeply as the natives’.

  He seemed to have a new serenity, and she thought it amazing that they each had so recently found the peace for which they’d longed. To the end of her life, she would carry deep regret for the sorrow her foolish, rebellious actions had caused. But she understood now that God was a God of deliverance and redemption. There was no sin so great that he could not forgive, no tragedy so profound that he could not bring something good out of it.

  She fell back against the down pillows, savoring their softness. “Oh, how I wish I could take this bed with me when I go back to Timoné.”

  David turned and looked at her, an odd expression on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He sat down on the edge of the chair beside her and enveloped her right hand in both of his. “Natalie, if I have my way you won’t need a bed.”

  She pushed herself up again, supporting her weight on her elbows. “What are you talking about?” Surely, after all they’d been through together, he hadn’t changed his mind about her going back to Timoné.

  A slow smile painted his face as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I have a perfectly lovely bed in my utta …”

  “But … what about your back? I couldn’t ask you to—”

  “I wasn’t offering to give up my bed. I was— I am offering to share it with you, Natalie.”

  Before the meaning of his words congealed in her mind, he slid from the chair to sit beside her. Turning to her and taking her face in his hands, he placed an exquisitely tender kiss on her parched lips. “Natalie Camfield, I love you and I want you to be my wife. There’s nothing I long for more than to have you lying in my arms every night before I fall asleep.”

  She gave a little sigh and leaned over to lay her head upon his strong shoulder. “Oh, David …”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She heard the smile in his voice, and she nodded into the soft fabric of his denim shirt, unable to speak.

  “You go home, get well,” he told her. “I’ll be counting every minute until you’re in my arms again.” He stood now, kissed his fingertips and, bending down, transferred the kiss to her lips with a feather-light touch. “Mi carru. My love.”

  Then, without another word, he turned and ducked through the doorway.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank the following people for their roles in bringing After the Rains into being:

  Miss Linda Buller, who will soon
celebrate her ninety-first birthday, and whose many years as a missionary in Colombia have been an inspiration to me.

  Police Chief Jim Dailey, Judge Ted Ice, Gerry Loomis of the Harvey County Sheriff’s Department, County Attorney Matt Treaster, Joyce Roach, Vern Schmidt and others in local law enforcement agencies who patiently answered my many questions.

  Dr. Mel and Cheryl Hodde, the wonderful writing team who make up Hannah Alexander, for providing information on the medical aspects of this story.

  Tom and Diane Tehan, doing the Lord’s work in Thailand, for sharing invaluable information and literature on the work of translator linguists.

  Author Gayle G. Roper, who unknowingly provided my theme in one of the chapters of her wonderful book on contentment, Riding the Waves (Broadman and Holman, 2001).

  Others who helped with research on various topics: Melody Carlson, Jason Efken, Larry Greene, Cyndi Kempke, Erin Pennington; and my children, Ryan and Tobi Layton, Tarl Raney, Trey Raney, and Tavia Raney, who brought my memories of life as a preteen and teenager into the twenty-first century.

  Those who read my manuscript in its early stages and offered suggestions and encouragement: Lorie Battershill, Meredith Efken, Kim Hlad, Cyndi Kempke, Terry Stucky, and my parents, Max and Winifred Teeter.

  Dan and Jeanne Billings, whose charming Victorian bed-and-break-fast, the Emma Creek Inn, near Hesston, Kansas, provided a lovely writing retreat away from the cry of the telephone, doorbell, and dirty laundry—and came complete with a nice fat tomcat to warm my feet. Thank you, Alex.

  My incredible editors at WaterBrook Press, Erin Healy, Traci DePree, and Laura Barker.

  And as always, my biggest supporter, encourager, and the love of my life—my husband Ken.

  ___________________

  A note to my readers: As in Beneath a Southern Sky, the villages, native people, and dialects of Timoné and Conzalez—while based on actual people groups of South America—are fictionalized as portrayed in After the Rains, and are the products of my imagination.

  For more information, or to write me, please visit my Web site at www.deborahraney.com. I love hearing from my readers!