The sky had opened in full force, water pouring down in buckets over the land. Jericho and Moses had sought shelter beneath the thick growth of the trees that bordered the line of dry desert behind them. Both were grateful for the brief reprieve, the onslaught of rain and the ensuing darkness shielding them from the troops trailing too closely behind them.
Onen and his men were relentless, anger fueling their search. The man and the boy had gotten the best of the young leader and he was intent on seeking retribution for the assault on his immature ego.
Jericho cupped his hands beneath his chin, lapping greedily at the moisture that filled his palms. Moses lay on the ground beside him, his back flat against the hard earth. The child lay with his mouth wide open, allowing the flow of rainwater to flood past his lips and down his throat. Both rested cautiously, one ear listening for any sound that indicated the threat of danger might be near by. The other focused on the rapid beat of their own hearts thundering loudly in their chests. Jericho wiped a damp hand across his face.
“We need to keep moving,” he said softly, tapping his hand against the boy’s leg.
Moses nodded, his small body consumed by exhaustion. Night sounds billowed through the trees around them. The duo lay listening, neither saying anything, relishing the moment of quiet rest. Jericho had never felt so lost in his life. He was concerned more for the child than for himself, the magnitude of his responsibility front and center in his mind. Moses had worked diligently to be strong for both of them but he was still just a small boy wanting to be a child in such a grown-up world.
Moses shifted his body closer to Jericho’s, moving to lay his head against the man’s leg. “Are you ever afraid in America?” he asked softly, his low tone floating with the cool breeze.
Jericho nodded. “Yes. Sometimes I am,” he responded.
“Do they make little boys fight and hurt people there?”
“No. Not like here.”
“If I were there I would go to school,” Moses professed.
Jericho smiled into the darkness. “You are a very smart boy,” he said. ‘We will make sure you go to school wherever you are. You promised me you were going to study to be a doctor, remember? I plan to hold you to that promise. I expect great things from you, Moses.”
Jericho could feel the boy shaking ever so slightly. Silence reclaimed them as they both fell into their own thoughts. An hour or so later the man and the boy woke from a deep sleep, startled by the sound of voices that resonated much too close for comfort. Jericho had been dreaming of Talisa and for just a brief moment he was totally disoriented, unable to remember where he was. The moment passed quickly as Jericho returned to consciousness, his senses heightened by his own fear. Moses reached for Jericho’s hand as they both came to their feet, listening intently to determine just how near to danger they were. The shouting seemed to originate to the west of where they stood, angry voices penetrating the midnight air.
“We must move quickly,” Moses whispered.
Jericho nodded as the child pulled at him, urgent for Jericho to stay close beside him.
“This way,” Moses prodded.
As his eyes readjusted to the darkness, Jericho focused his gaze up toward the sky. A faint ray of light in the distance captured his attention, the glimmer of brightness shining against the dark sky. A smile of hope flickered across his face as he took in the promises shimmering within the spray of stars above them.
“No,” he said firmly, gesturing in the opposite direction. “We’ll be safe this way.”
The caravan was back on the road just as dawn broke over the horizon. The energy in the air was electric and Talisa found it difficult to be calm. She stared anxiously over the landscape, searching for a sign, just a hint of recognition that Jericho was close. As the morning sun stepped higher in the sky, Talisa could feel her excitement being consumed by disappointment, each stop yielding no sign of his whereabouts.
“Jericho, where are you?” she whispered to herself, fingering the crucifix that hung from her neck. “Please, Lord, show me where he is,” she prayed, her eyes still skating over the countryside.
Gunfire suddenly rang in the air and Talisa gripped the car door as the convoy came to a stop. From the vehicles ahead of them, the officers jumped out with their weapons in ready-mode, rushing into the thick growth that lay past the expanse of roadway. The rash of gunfire was followed by waves of shouting, harsh voices ringing angrily through the morning air.
The sky above suddenly went dark as the sun disappeared behind a wave of rain clouds perched precariously overhead, reappearing just as quickly a minute later. Stepping from the vehicle Talisa stared upward, marveling at the sun and moon sitting side by side in the bright blue sky. There was a shift in the temperature, a sudden gust of cool air blowing through her hair. As quickly as it passed, the summer heat regained control. Talisa stood watching as the clouds continued to roll past, spinning off into the distance faster than she could focus on them. When the sun reappeared for a second time, shining just as brightly as it had moments before, an easy calm washed over her. Without a second thought Talisa tore into the woods behind the soldiers, calling Jericho’s name as Peter raced behind her, shouting for her to stop.
She sensed his presence before she heard him. She had felt the nearness of him washing over her, flooding through her body like a tidal wave. Then she heard him calling her name, the sound of his voice barely audible over all the commotion. She heard him answering as she continued to shout over the noise of soldiers fighting around her, militia reigning control over an enemy she had no understanding of. As she continued searching, his voice closer with each step, she barely noticed the young men being held at gunpoint as they lay prone on the ground, their hands clasped above their heads. An army captain stepped in her path, upset by her blatant disregard for her own safety. The man stood reprimanding her actions as she pushed past him, ignoring his orders for her to return to the convoy.
As Talisa continued past the turmoil, her eyes darted back and forth searching anxiously for Jericho. Just seconds later Moses stood in the distance, waving his thin arms excitedly over his head. He jumped up and down for her attention, relief flooding his young face as she and Peter raced to the child’s side.
Jericho lay on the ground beside him, staring skyward, dazed from dehydration. Delirium danced through his mind as he mumbled her name over and over again. As his gaze met hers, he smiled ever so slightly, his only greeting a quick nod of his head. Dropping to the ground, Talisa leaned her body down over his, pulling him to her. He had lost weight and she could feel his ribs pushing harsh against his skin. His flesh was badly sunburned, charred red and blistered from the intensity of the sun. She whispered his name into his ear, her lips lightly grazing his flesh. “I’m here, Jericho,” she whispered softly, “I’m right here, baby and everything is going to be just fine.”
It was only when Peter tried to help his friend to his feet that any of them noticed the puddle of blood on the ground beneath Jericho’s body. The smile flew from her face as Talisa pressed her hand just beneath his shoulder blades, feeling the warm flow of sanguine fluid spilling over her fingers. “Oh, dear God, no,” she whispered, her eyes widening in horror as Peter called for more help. Calling out that Jericho had taken a bullet in his back.
Jericho’s breathing was shallow, a slow raspy exchange of air and breath. His head was cradled in Talisa’s lap as the car they rode in sped back toward the hospital. A medic had stopped the bleeding enough to stabilize his condition, and Talisa was confident that once they were safely behind the walls of the compound all would be well.
Moses had given them a blow-by-blow description of what had happened, his youthful exuberance enlivening his words. When the child finally drifted off to sleep, the adults could only sit in disbelief, amazed that the two had come back.
Peter sat in the front passenger seat, stealing glances over his shoulder at them. He found Talisa’s warm smile and easy tone comforting, and though his
friend was slipping in and out of consciousness, he couldn’t help but sense that Jericho felt the same way. Peter was almost embarrassed sitting there eavesdropping on them as Talisa whispered words of encouragement in the man’s ear. Her assertions held promise of a future any man would have been thrilled to share, and it was at that moment Peter bore witness to the light of love his wife frequently spoke of.
Talisa brushed her fingers through the thick length of Jericho’s hair. His braids had come undone and the soft strands fell against her lap and down the side of her leg to puddle against the seat beside them. She hummed softly, leaning over to let her lips brush against his ear.
“I did not come this far to find you, just to have you leave me, Jericho Becton. I need you to stay strong. We’re going to get through this together, darling.” Talisa brushed her cheek against his. He shivered as if cold and she tucked a wool blanket tighter against his body. “The very first time I saw you, you took my breath away. I was so scared in that operating room, and then I heard your voice and I could just feel that everything was going to be fine.” Talisa smiled, brushing her fingers against the profile of his face. “Then, when we were standing together in that hotel suite I was so excited to be close to you that I couldn’t stop shaking. I’m surprised I didn’t fall straight to the floor,” Talisa continued, chuckling softly. Jericho shifted his head closer in her lap, his forehead resting against her belly button. “You are going to be just fine, sweetheart. I can feel it. Just hold on, baby. You have to hold on.”
Talisa closed her eyes, struggling to contain the flow of water that threatened to spill from her eyes. When she opened them again, her gaze met Peter’s. He smiled, nodding his head in support before turning back to stare out the front window. Talisa persisted, certain that as long as Jericho heard her voice, knew that she was right there holding on to him, that he would keep fighting to come back to her. “Your mom and dad are waiting for you. Your mom is amazing. I can see what a strong woman she is. You have her strength.” Talisa paused, taking a deep breath before she continued. “She wanted me to give this to you,” Talisa whispered, fingering the crucifix around her neck. Reaching to unclasp the pendant, she eased the chain beneath Jericho’s head and fastened it tight. Talisa ran her fingers gently against the outline of the gold emblem, etching it gently along Jericho’s chest. “Everyone is praying for you, Jericho. God will see you through this, baby. You have to believe in that.”
Talisa continued murmuring into Jericho’s ear for the entire ride, maintaining her hold on him for the duration of the ride. She prayed over him, professed her love for him, whispered promises to him, letting him know that she had every intention of staying right by his side until he was back on his feet and well again.
As they finally pulled into the compound, the car careening through the gates toward the hospital, she reached for his hand and squeezed it. When Jericho squeezed back, Talisa could feel the pull of energy renewing his spirit. The man opened his eyes for a brief second, blinking them to focus and as Talisa smiled down on him, he moved to bend his lips in response. He motioned as if to speak, his mouth opening and then closing. His tongue slipped past to tap lightly against his lips.
“Shhh,” Talisa murmured into his ear.
Jericho squeezed her hand again, then managed to whisper ever so softly, “I love you.”
As Peter threw the back door open to help lift him inside, Talisa placed one last kiss against Jericho’s lips, one more “I love you” blowing breath into body. As his parents rushed to greet them, both reaching to help pull Jericho from the vehicle, Talisa’s gaze locked with his mother’s, and as if an unspoken understanding passed between them, both women knew that although the worst had passed, Jericho still wasn’t out of the woods and an air of uncertainty hung like a dark cloud above them.
Talisa had grown weary of looking at her watch. Jericho’s surgery was lasting longer than any of them had anticipated and although she was confident that he was in good hands, she couldn’t help but worry.
The makeshift operating room and lack of medical supplies had been cause for concern, but Dr. Becton had kissed his wife and promised her he would get Jericho through the procedure. As Talisa and the woman sat side by side, both were counting on him to keep that promise.
Irene reached for Talisa’s hand, patting it gently as she smiled sweetly. “He’s going to be just fine. His father is one of the best surgeons in the world. There is none better. Jericho learned from a master.”
Talisa nodded. “He’s very proud of his father and you. He loves you both very much.”
“He’s a wonderful young man and we’re the ones who are proud,” his mother commented, her head bobbing up and down slowly.
Quiet floated in the air between them, as both women fell back in their own thoughts about Jericho. Irene broke the silence. “I imagine your mother and father are as proud of you, Talisa. It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing here. Angela and Peter both speak very highly of you. I’m always impressed when I see young women like yourself involved in helping others.”
“Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”
“What possessed you to volunteer here in Africa?”
“It’s just who I am and how I was raised. My father taught me that when you give to others it comes back to you tenfold. Being able to come to Africa was just a dream come true.”
“And somewhat fateful, I think. I know you and Jericho weren’t able to connect back in Atlanta. Perhaps destiny had her own mission to bring you two together here in Uganda?”
Talisa chuckled. “Perhaps.”
“My son’s a good catch,” Irene said with a wink. “He was raised well, he loves his mother, he’s financially responsible, and he’s a great dancer.”
“Is he now?”
“Oh, yes! I made him take dance lessons when he was a boy. He’s very good. Plus he knows how to cook and he can do his own laundry. I highly recommend him.”
The two women giggled, ease and comfort wrapping around them as Irene continued.
“When Jericho called to tell us about the two of you, I couldn’t remember the last time I had heard him so happy. You could feel his happiness coming through the telephone lines. I knew then that you had to be very special.”
“Jericho makes me feel special, Mrs. Becton.”
His mother smiled. “He said the same thing about you.”
At that moment, Angela stepped into the room, pulling at the gloves and gown she’d worn in surgery. Dr. Becton followed close on her heels. The smile on her face spoke volumes, the essence of it only surpassed by the glow from the man at her side. Both women jumped to their feet, Peter shuffling in quickly from the other room.
“How is he?” Peter asked, voicing what the other two women couldn’t find a voice to ask. “Will he be okay?”
Dr. Becton nodded. “He should be fine. We were able to remove the bullet and thankfully it didn’t hit any major organs. He’s lost a good deal of blood so he’s going to be very weak and we have to watch that he doesn’t get an infection. But I’d venture to say he’ll be up and about in a few days and we’ll probably have to tie him to the bed to keep him still after that.”
Irene reached to embrace her husband, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he returned the hug. “Praise Jesus,” she exclaimed softly.
Peter jumped with joy, clasping his hands excitedly. He reached to hug his wife, lifting her off her feet as he spun her in a quick circle. “That is good news,” he said. “Very good news.”
Talisa heaved a sigh of relief, her eyes closing in silent prayer as she gave thanks for the blessings that continued to be bestowed upon them. When she opened them, Irene was staring at her, a warm smile gracing her face. They shared a silent conversation between them as both under-stood that the future held nothing but promise of brighter tomorrows for them all. Nodding her head slowly, Talisa smiled and Irene Becton’s grin widened. Looking up at her husband she tossed him a quick wink as she reached out to Talisa, pullin
g the young woman into the arms of their embrace.
Chapter 22
Depressing the hook to disconnect her last call, Leila paused for one quick moment before she dialed. Her index finger skated quickly over the numeric pad. Pulling the receiver back to her ear she waited as it rang on the other end. When Mya finally picked up on the fifth ring, Leila sat back against the headboard of her brass bed, pulling her legs comfortably beneath the curve of her behind.
“Hi, Mya. It’s me.”
“Hi, Leila. Girlfriend, can I call you back later? I’m kind of busy. You caught me right in the middle of something.”
Leila shook her head. “No. You were supposed to call me three days ago when you were busy with David, Duncan, Daryl, whatever that brother’s name was. Who are you busy with now?”
“My auction date. He stopped by so we could watch his new commercial together.”
“Shouldn’t he be asleep or getting ready for work, or something?” Leila asked, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It was just after eleven o’clock, and she knew the nightly news was well underway.
“He doesn’t go in until four a.m. He said he couldn’t sleep and that he wanted some company.”
Leila groaned. “Mya, do not sleep with that man,” she said pointedly.
Mya laughed, cupping her hand around the receiver to whisper into it. Behind her, the man sitting on her sofa was oblivious, his attention focused on the television set. “Sleeping was the last thing we were planning to do tonight, Leila,” she said smugly.
“Mya, you really need to slow down before you catch something nasty.”
“Don’t hate ’cause I get mine and yours, too.”
“You’ve done mine, yours and half the city of Atlanta’s. I’ve lost count with the list being as long and as undistinguished as it is. At the rate you’re going, you’re sending my condom stock straight through the roof. You are using condoms, aren’t you?”
In the Light of Love Page 17
