In the Light of Love

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  As darkness settled around him he thought of Talisa, hoping that Peter had taken her back to safety in Kampala and the orphanage. He would have given anything, he thought, to be with her one more time, to hold her in his arms and feel the tender caress of her skin against his. As he lay listening to the hushed whispers of his captors, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was ever going to have the chance to kiss the sweetness of her mouth again. Jericho could feel his tears falling down his cheeks. Moses was snoring lightly beside him and so Jericho lay still, not bothering to try to wipe his eyes lest he wake the child from his few minutes of rest.

  He could only imagine what was going through Talisa’s mind. He knew that if their positions were reversed he would be crazy over the loss of her. If it took a lifetime, nothing and no one could have kept him from finding her. He imagined Talisa was thinking the very same thing. Jericho sighed. He knew enough about Talisa to know she was holding on to hope from a higher source. “Let go, and let God,” she had said to him once, that sweet smile washing over his spirit as she lifted herself in prayer. Talisa’s faith was unfailing. He closed his eyes, filling his lungs with oxygen as he took a deep breath. Staring back out into the darkness, Jericho began to pray.

  Talisa noticed the lone figure limping toward the compound before anyone else. The thin frame was so small against the dusty horizon that she almost thought it an illusion. As it drew closer, Talisa could feel her heart skip a beat, anxiety suddenly washing over her.

  “Peter! Peter!” she yelled loudly as she gestured for some of the men to open the gates for her. “Hurry, Peter!” she called as she raced to catch Susie’s bruised body into her arms.

  The child was barely recognizable. Her face was swollen, having been battered black and blue. Talisa pressed her fingertips to Susie’s forehead, fighting back the flood of tears that suddenly spewed from her eyes.

  “Shhh, you’re safe, baby girl,” Talisa whispered into the child’s ear. “I’m right here, Susie.”

  Susie squeezed an eye open to stare up at Talisa. The edge of a smile blessed her face. Her mouth moved open and then closed as she struggled to speak. Talisa leaned to hear as the child whispered into her ear.

  “Just rest,” Talisa responded, lifting the child into her arms and heading back into the compound. “You just rest now.”

  Running to meet her, Peter and one of the nurses reached to lift the girl from Talisa’s arms.

  “She’s burning up with fever,” Talisa stated, still holding tightly to the child’s hand as they rushed her into the infirmary.

  Talisa stepped back out of the way as the medical staff leaned in to work on the girl’s injuries. She turned to stare toward Peter who was watching just as intensely.

  “We have to go find them, Peter,” she said matter-of-factly. “Jericho and Moses are both okay, but we have to go find them before it’s too late.”

  As Peter stood staring at her, his resolve melding with hers, he nodded his understanding. With much to arrange, Peter headed out the door, Talisa following closely behind him.

  Later that evening Talisa pulled her chair up against the cot, settling herself comfortably beside the sleeping child. Susie rested uneasily, tossing about as nightmares coursed through her dreams. If it had been possible, Talisa would have taken every ounce of the child’s hurt onto herself and it pained her to see the small body so tormented. She ran a soft hand against the child’s arm.

  She and Peter would be headed toward Sudan in the morning, hopeful that Jericho and the boy would be found before they crossed the borders into hostile territory. She understood that the trek would not be an easy one, but finding her man was all she could think about.

  Despite the distance between them, Talisa could feel Jericho as if he were standing beside her. He was thinking of her, worried about her being safe from harm. He missed her as much as she missed him and it was if the emotions they carried for one another were being carried on the gentlest of breezes blowing through the African air.

  Rising from her seat, Talisa eased her way outside, taking great care not to disturb anyone from their sleep. Standing on the porch of the building, she took a deep breath, inhaling the essence of Jericho from the midnight air. High in the dark sky overhead, the sliver of a new moon glimmered in the distance. A spattering of stars twinkled against the black backdrop, shimmering reverently for attention. Talisa could feel her spirit smiling as Jericho called her name, telling her he was alive and fighting just as intensely to get back to her. Lifting her gaze skyward, Talisa could feel the pull against her heart and answered it, her arms hugging her body tightly. “I’m coming, Jericho,” she said, her voice barely a whisper out into the dark. “We’ll be together very soon.”

  Jericho leaned up in the darkness. The village had finally gone quiet for another night, the troops preparing to leave for Sudan in the early morning. The faint moonlight and glitter of stars above shone down upon him, easing the anxiety that had plagued him for much of the day. Talisa was in his heart, and he could feel his spirit holding on to hope that they would soon be together again. He could taste her, his tongue flickering out over the coarse skin that covered his dry lips. The scent of her filled his nostrils, her honeyed essence billowing through his bloodstream. Jericho smiled, whispering softly into the night air. “I love you, too, Talisa. I love you, too.”

  Chapter 21

  They were stocking the jeep with supplies when the convoy of military vehicles pulled into the compound. Both Peter and Talisa diverted their attention as officers from the local militia and the Ugandan army pulled into the empty spaces beside them. Angela drove the fourth jeep, stepping quickly out of the car as Jericho’s parents followed closely on her heels.

  As Talisa’s gaze locked with Jericho’s mother, she smiled, nodding her head softly. The older woman smiled back, her nervous anxiety flooding her dark complexion.

  Angela reached to hug her husband first, then leaned to wrap her arms around Talisa. “Any news yet?” she asked.

  Peter nodded. “We’re headed to the border. We think we can catch him before they cross.”

  Angela nodded, her gaze shifting from one to the other. “Well, I’ve gotten you some assistance,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the military presence. “The consulate is calling in a number of favors on our behalf.”

  Peter smiled as he was quickly introduced to the officials. Turning his attention to Jericho’s parents, Peter extended his hand toward Dr. Becton. “I am sorry that we must meet again under these circumstances, sir,” he said, pulling the man into a warm embrace as they greeted each other.

  Jericho’s father nodded his head. “So am I, Peter,” he said, as Jericho’s friend reached to hug and greet his wife.

  “Do you think he’s okay?” Irene asked, the worry tainting her words, Peter’s arms still wrapped around her shoulders.

  Peter turned his gaze toward Talisa. All eyes followed his as everyone’s attention suddenly fell on the young woman who stood standing off to the side.

  “We’re going to bring him home, Mrs. Becton,” Talisa said softly.

  The woman studied her momentarily. “You must be Talisa,” she said finally, reaching for Talisa’s hands. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

  Talisa nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, I’m going with you,” Dr. Becton said, looking from one to the other.

  Peter shook his head. “I do not think that is a good idea, sir. I think it would be safer for you to stay here.”

  “Well, I don’t care—” the man started.

  Talisa lifted her hand to interrupt him. “Jericho wouldn’t want that, Dr. Becton. They can use your help here. The hospital is filling up and there aren’t enough medical personnel to help all the patients. Jericho would want you to help out here until he can get back. I promise you, sir, we will find him and bring him home.”

  “How can you promise me that?” Dr. Becton said tersely. “What do you know?”

  Talisa pressed her pal
m against her heart. “I know that I love your son and he loves me. And I know he’s going to be just fine. He’s strong and he’ll guide us to wherever he is. But we don’t have time to argue about it. He would want you to stay here, to be with his mother. He would want both of you to help with the children. That’s what Jericho would want you to do.”

  Dr. Becton moved to argue, tossing an angry look in Talisa’s direction. His wife stalled the motion, moving to press her fingers to her husband’s lips. The man eyed her curiously as she stepped back toward Talisa, clasping the younger woman’s hands between her own.

  Talisa noted the damp tears that pressed at the woman’s eyes. She reached to give the woman a hug. “I can feel him, Mrs. Becton. I can feel him in my heart and I know he’s going to be fine,” she whispered.

  Irene nodded. “I believe you,” she whispered back. She wiped at her eyes, the moisture brushing against the back of her hand. Reaching for the necklace around her neck, she undid the clasp, pulling the chain and pendant into her hand. She studied it for a quick minute then pressed it into the palm of Talisa’s hand.

  Talisa looked down to study the large gold cross embedded with a line of four diamonds and the heavy chain that supported it. She wrapped her fingers tightly around it as she glanced back up to stare at Jericho’s mother.

  “When you find my baby boy, give him that, please. Tell him his father and I will be right here waiting for him. Tell him, please, that we love him.”

  Nodding, Talisa linked the chain around her own neck. “I promise, Mrs. Becton,” she answered as the woman leaned to kiss her cheek.

  Irene pressed a palm to Talisa’s face. “They have work to do, Elijah,” she said, directing her comment to her husband. “Peter and Talisa do not need us in their way. We can do more for Jericho right here. Talisa’s right. That’s what Jericho would want.”

  The man sputtered as his wife turned to clasp his arm in her own. “Angela, why don’t we three go see where we can be of service. These two need to get out of here,” she stated, leading the way toward the hospital, pulling her husband along behind her.

  Angela smiled, reaching to hug and kiss her own husband one more time. She turned to Talisa and grinned. “Just follow the light,” she said, nodding her head slowly. “It will take you in the right direction.”

  Talisa grinned back. “I know.”

  Minutes later, Angela and the Bectons stood watching as the rescue caravan exited through the gates. In the seat beside Peter, Talisa turned to wave back as Jericho’s mother lifted her hand in the air. Watching the woman who clung closely to her husband for support, Talisa couldn’t help but wish for her own mother.

  Onen was giving orders, his troops falling into line as they prepared to move camp. Jericho knew they were quickly running out of time. Beside him, Moses had grown anxious, shifting nervously from side to side. His gaze shifted focus quickly, trying to take in everything and everyone around him.

  “What’s happening, Moses?” Jericho whispered.

  “We have to run soon,” the boy responded. “We can’t let them take us across the border. But if they catch us, they will kill us.”

  Jericho nodded his head. “We won’t let that happen,” he said firmly. The rope around his wrists was cutting into his flesh, cutting off his circulation. He wiggled his fingers, trying to motivate the blood flow through his arms. “I need my hands free, Moses.”

  The boy nodded, then called out to the leader. Onen gave them a hostile gaze and they could almost see the vile thoughts racing through his mind as he contemplated what he wanted to do. He stomped toward them, a rifle raised high, ready to fire, as he shouted obscenely.

  Moses leaned against Jericho’s leg, his body tensing. “The doctor wants to check your bandage,” he said, not a quiver in his young voice.

  Onen stared first at Moses, then Jericho, then back to Moses. The gun dropped down to his side. He spoke quickly, casting a glance over his shoulder to watch that his troops were acting on his orders.

  Moses spoke again. “The doctor says he needs to check the infection. He doesn’t want you to get sick. You can’t lead if you are sick.” Moses pointed to where the young man stared. “They will not listen to you if they know you are getting weak,” the boy added.

  Onen grunted, then gave the okay for Moses to release the bindings. He stepped forward, gesturing for Jericho to examine his rash. Cleaning the flesh and applying the balm had significantly soothed the raging infection. Jericho could see marked improvement in the teenager’s condition, but he did not say so. Instead, he shook his head, a look of serious concern crossing his face.

  “Tell him this is getting worse,” Jericho said to Moses. “We need to treat it for another day or two before he leaves. If it gets any worse it will poison his blood and kill him. Tell him if he continues to travel in this heat, it will make the rash spread faster.”

  Moses nodded and translated. Onen grunted, looking down at his chest, his hands reaching to touch his flesh. His skin burned ever so slightly but not nearly as much as it had before the doctor had treated him. The two men locked eyes, studying each other intensely. Pointing his gun for a second time, Onen gestured for the duo to take a seat back on the ground. He turned, heading back to the gathering of boys who stood readying themselves for travel.

  “Do you think he believed me?” Jericho whispered.

  Moses said nothing, listening closely as Onen shouted. The rebel turned to toss them one last glance before storming into the hut he’d spent the night in. Moses nodded. “They’re splitting up,” he said, whispering back. “He’s sending most of them on ahead. The rest of us are going to follow in a day or two.”

  Jericho smiled ever so slightly. “That’s good,” he said softly. “That’s all the time we need.”

  By midafternoon the summer sun was shining brightly overhead. The heat was intense, flooding over them. Onen and three of his soldiers were lazing around doing nothing. None of them were paying any particular attention to Jericho and Moses, having almost forgotten that they were still there. Onen had allowed Jericho to change his dressings just before lunch, then had left them as he sought out shelter away from the scorching heat. Deluded by their compliance, Onen hadn’t bothered to retie Jericho’s hands.

  “They will be sleep soon,” Moses said, gesturing with his head toward the four young men who were settling down for an afternoon nap, their bellies full from the food they’d not bothered to share.

  Jericho nodded, lying back against the dark earth as if he, too, were tired. His mouth was dry, the back of his throat and his tongue hardened tight from the dust that clung to the lining of his tissues. He yearned for just a single drop of water but knew none was coming. He pulled at the long blades of grass beneath him, sucking at the trickle of moisture that clung to the roots and filled the green leaves. He motioned for Moses to do the same.

  “This isn’t going to be easy, Moses. We’re going to have to be strong,” Jericho said softly as the boy dampened his lips.

  Moses nodded. “My sister needs me,” he said. “I have to get back to her.”

  Jericho smiled. “Tell me when,” he said, reaching to stroke the boy’s shoulder.

  Minutes later, Jericho and Moses were racing through the brush back in the direction they’d come from. Running because their lives depended on it, neither bothered to look back, not even when they heard the burst of gunfire sounding through the afternoon air when one of their captors woke from his nap and realized they were gone.

  As the group made camp for the night, Talisa found her frustrations rising. They’d driven most of the day, the militia stopping more times than necessary to search the thick growth of trees for abandoned camps. As time was being wasted and no progress was being made, Talisa had no way of making them understand how they needed to keep on, to get closer to the border to find Jericho. She knew they would think her foolish if she tried to explain how she knew that Jericho was still too far from where they now rested to be found.

&n
bsp; Peter looked toward her as she sighed, the heavy gust of air flooding from her body. “Is all well, Talisa?” he asked, concern coating his words.

  Talisa shrugged, the gesture missed in the darkness that surrounded them. “It will be well when we reach him, Peter,” she finally answered.

  The man reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. He settled his back against a large tree that hovered above them, shelter from a faint mist of rain that had begun to drip from the sky. Talisa turned to listen as the man spoke, his words reflecting the warmth of emotion he held for his friend.

  “When we were in school, Jericho and I, he was so serious, that one. He wanted to make his father proud and all he could focus on was his studies. We use to tease him because he would not pay the girls any attention. And the girls loved him, they did.”

  Talisa smiled as the man shared his memories.

  “He was dating this one young lady and everyone was so sure that they would marry one day. Even I thought that it would be their destiny to be together. But my Angela, she knew different. This woman came with Jericho to our wedding and when Angela met her, she knew. She told me then that Jericho had not yet met the woman who would be his wife. She said his heart had not yet opened to what was written in the stars. Neither of us paid her any attention. A woman’s foolishness, we thought. But she knew. My Angela knew better than Jericho or I did.”

  Talisa could sense the man nodding his head beside her. She waited for him to continue.

  “His heart is wide open, Talisa. You are the love of his life and he is yours. This is but a small storm between you. I can feel it.”

  Talisa smiled. “Thank you, Peter,” she said softly.

  “Love him well, Talisa. He is my best friend and I want him to know love like I know love. Be to his heart, what my Angela is to mine.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  Peter crossed his arms over his chest. Side by side the two stared up into the dark sky wishing a prayer that their search would soon be over. With her eyes closed, Talisa whispered Jericho’s name in her heart, her spirit calling out to his, and some eighty-odd miles away, Jericho answered with his own.