Late in the day, Dr. Sams gathered everyone together in the waiting room. They stood or sat quietly, expectantly, their faces turned toward him. “From what I hear, the Tanzanian army has everything under control. It seems like hundreds have already gone north, if you’ve been watching the road. But you never know. I know we’ve had no casualties come here, but if fighting starts up again, we can expect to see some. They won’t be able to handle them at Mutukula. Dr. Price has talked to John. He says he can bring in all the supplies we need up to a point, unless of course, he has to fly through artillery fire. My guess is the Tanzanians will set up field hospitals if they need them, so that will keep the pressure off us, unless there are a lot of civilian casualties.
“I hate to ask you all to stay. I don’t know if things are going to be more or less dangerous as time goes by. John has offered to take any of you anywhere you want to go. Americans, if you want to go home, we’ve got clearance to leave any time you want. You’re more likely to get flights out of Nairobi.” Dr. Sams sounded tired but strong as he looked around the room, searching everyone’s faces.
“I’m not leaving,” said Francine. “I don’t believe we are in any danger at the moment, and it’s no good to turn tail and run just because we’re nervous.”
“She’s right,” spoke up Janie. “I feel pretty safe here in the compound. The Tanzanians are used to this, and they know how to handle Amin’s army. There’s no way the Ugandans can make it down here without going through the whole Tanzanian army. I’m staying. At least for now.”
Sally Beth wasn’t listening. She wasn’t thinking about leaving or staying, or the danger they might be in. She was just thinking that she should bring Alethia’s girls to the mission until they were assured there would be no war. The Ugandans weren’t so much of a problem, she thought, but the Tanzanian soldiers looked like they wouldn’t be overly cautious about making sure children were kept safe. Dr. Sams broke into her reverie.
“What about you, Sally Beth. What do you think?”
She blinked. “I need to get the girls here. Alethia and Mara and Sylvie are safe in Bukoba, but I worry about all these soldiers being on the road. And what about the other children in the village? Should we set up some place for them so they will feel safe? Are the rooms in the Bamboo building good enough to house them if we can get some men from the village to come help repair the roof? I’m worried about getting people to the hospitals with the roads so clogged with the soldiers coming up, and I’m wondering if maybe John could bring his partner here. They have another plane, and we could shuttle the really injured people to Bukoba or Ndolage.
There was a general soft laughter. Falla came over and put her arm around her. “My dear Sally Beth. In you we see the face of God.”
Sixteen
October 20, 1978
Battles had been going on intermittently just north of them for eleven days, with neither side seeming to gain control for more than a few minutes or a few hours at a time, and because the fighting was taking place in populated areas, civilian casualties were beyond what the Tanzanians’ field hospitals could handle. A river of wounded streamed to the mission, noisy with cries of pain and fear, swelling and surging as the days passed. Everyone was exhausted, not just from the constant work with victims arriving by the hour, but by the emotional strain of trying to remain calm and cheerful around all the children, including Alethia’s, who had been moved to the mission for the duration of the fighting.
Yet, life had not become the hell that war could be. The seriously wounded bypassed the mission clinic to go directly to the hospitals at Bukoba or Ndoledge. The injuries Sally Beth saw were relatively minor, but there were so many of them: a wall of bloody humanity that defined her days and towered over her dreams at night. Everyone, from Pastor Umbatu to the maintenance staff, was pressed into helping bandage wounds and begin plasma or saline IVs. They took their meals at their stations, usually just cold leftovers because the cooks did not take the time away from the clinic to prepare much. Sally Beth spent her time soothing crying infants and distraught women, fishing for bullets and shrapnel, and injecting antibiotics, and she even learned how to stitch up superficial gashes. It was not pleasant work, but it was not gut-wrenching either. Mostly it was just exhausting and depressing.
Late in the afternoon, she heard the drone of an airplane she had by now learned was the much-longed-for sound of John’s Skylane. Sally Beth shook off her fatigue as she washed the blood off her hands, looking forward to a smile from him, or, when she dared to hope, that he would hold her in his arms for a moment.
“It’s John,” she said to Falla. “I’ve finished with this. It wasn’t too deep, but it was long, so I stitched it up. One of the docs should check to make sure I did it okay. I’ll run out and help him unload.” She took off her smock, put on her hat, stepped out into the shimmering rain, and ran toward the meadow beyond the church.
John was tired, so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, and the bad news he had just received had deflated him, but the sight of Sally Beth standing in the rain, her pink princess cowboy hat sitting atop her pale beauty brought a smile to his face. She was simultaneously ridiculous and beautiful, with that ersatz rhinestone crown glinting almost as brilliantly as her genuine radiance. He nearly laughed aloud, and for a moment, he forgot his tiredness.
“Hey, John!” She waved, running to him. “It sure is good to see you! Did you bring penicillin? And some plasma? We’ve plumb run out.” She stopped when she saw his face, gray with fatigue, and her heart lurched with sympathy. “Oh, John! You look so tired! How long has it been since you got any sleep? Do you have time to stop and take a nap? Or at least some coffee?”
He dragged himself out of the cockpit. She took his hand to help him, holding it for a moment longer than was necessary, but he did not mind. Her warmth made him feel steadier. “Coffee sounds great, Sally Beth. I need to get back to Kigemba right now. There’s been a raid on the ranch and although my crew was able to keep most of the cattle safe, I need to get there as quick as I can to help round them up and get them secure. I just got the call about a minute ago. And then I need to get back to Bukoba to get the rest of the supplies for here. They didn’t have everything you need at Izimbya and I didn’t want to take the time to divert because I was afraid you would need the plasma now.”
By now, they were joined by Red and Pastor Umbatu, who had already begun to unload supplies from the plane.
“Thanks, John!” Red said, holding out a thermos of coffee to him. “We’ve got a patient who needs to get to a hospital. He’s got a fractured leg and Dr. Price says he’s going to need surgery. Do you think you could ferry him down to Izimbya?”
John looked defeated. “I just got back from there, but I have to go to Bukoba to pick up some more things. And I have to get back to my station at some point. Can I take him to Bukoba? It would be quicker for me all around.”
“Sure,” said Red. “I’ll let them know you are coming. Can you eat something before you go?”
John hesitated. He was starving, but he didn’t want to take the time to eat. Too many urgent needs demanded he get aloft again quickly.
Sally Beth spoke up. “How about I go with you? You can eat on the way, and then you can drop me off at the hospital in Bukoba with the patient. Red, if you call ahead and have someone at the airport to pick us up, I’ll get him checked in and take care of the supplies, and John can go back to the ranch. You can come back to pick me up tonight. And I’ll be able to see Alethia for a minute. Let her know her girls are safe.”
John felt a tiny lessening of pressure. It would be nice to have Sally Beth along for the company. She had a way of brightening his outlook, and it would be good to sit back and eat and let her fly. He nodded. “That would be fine.”
Thirty minutes later, they began the checklist for takeoff. “You need to learn to take off, Sally Beth,” he said to her. “You never know when you’re going to be called on to fly, so we might as well get a quick lesso
n in. Now pay attention. I’ll show you what to do, and you can try it yourself from a real runway when we leave Bukoba.” He took a few extra minutes to walk through the takeoff procedure, then, when they were aloft, he handed the controls to her with the comment, “I’m starving. Take over for me while I enjoy this sandwich. What is it?”
“PB and J. Nobody’s cooked in a week.”
“Ah, a little taste of home.” He peeked at the sandwich. “Blueberry?”
“Blackberry. The church from home sent it over in a care package.”
The radio crackled and a voice calling for John broke in. He responded, “Skylane 235 niner Juliet here.”
“Some passengers requesting transport from Bukoba to Kyaka. When will you be in the vicinity?”
“Roger that. Will be in Bukoba in twenty, but will be roundabout getting back to Kyaka. Okay to delay delivery? By the way, there’s a war on. Passengers know that?”
“Passengers en route to Bukoba now, due to arrive at sixteen hundred. Roger on the war. They are journalists to cover it. Can you accommodate?”
“If they’re traveling light. I’ll be leaving Bukoba with supplies sometime this evening. Not much room for luggage.”
“I’ll let them know. Over and out.”
Sally Beth shook her head. “What kind of idiots would come to Kyaka with the Ugandans right at the doorstep? It’s all I can do to keep from running away!”
John shrugged as he bit into his sandwich. “Journalists are a bunch of daredevils, I reckon. And somebody needs to report what’s going on. I, for one, would like to know.”
He dropped Sally Beth off at the airport where an ancient van serving as an ambulance of sorts sat waiting. The driver jumped out as soon as they taxied to a stop. John kept the engine running while the driver and Sally Beth unloaded the patient and moved him to the van. They waved to each other as they departed in separate directions.
Oh Lord! Keep him safe!
“Alethia!” she shouted across the parking lot.
“Sally Beth!” They ran to each other and embraced on the wet sidewalk outside the emergency room. “I just got here. One of the nurses called me to tell me you were coming. How are my girls? Are they safe? Are they scared?”
“They’re safe and doing fine. There’s not been any fighting anywhere near the mission. The Ugandans didn’t get past Mutukula, and the Tanzanians are pretty much whooping their tails. I’ve even heard that the Tanzanians are plowing up into Uganda, although they say they haven’t invaded. One radio says one thing, one says another. But it’s clear the Tanzanians are winning, so nobody’s really worried. We’ve been keeping the girls at the mission, though, and they’re doing their lessons with the children there so I don’t have to drive them up to their school. I just don’t have the time; things are so hectic at the clinic. How’s Mara?”
“Oh, thank God! I’ve been hearing the same sort of thing. She’s doing better, but it took a long time to get the infection under control. Sylvie and I have been taking turns sitting with her. I have some friends here in town we’ve been staying with. They don’t have much room, or I would ask you to bring them here. Thank you so much for taking care of my babies, Sally Beth.”
The calm oasis of the afternoon where she lounged in Alethia’s warm, comfortable friendship was much too small. It seemed as if only a few moments had passed before it was time to walk through the driving rain back to the dilapidated van that stood waiting, loaded with supplies. Parting was painful. Neither of them doubted that they both would remain safe, but in the back of their minds, they both knew that life could be capricious.
“God be with you, Sally Beth.”
“And you as well, Alethia,” she replied, blinking back tears.
The airport was not busy, but she decided to wait for John out on the tarmac in order to see him as soon as he came in. Leaning against the van, shivering, hunkered under an umbrella as the rain pelted down, she still thought it was better than sitting in the steaming van, breathing the scent of damp cardboard boxes. The air was fresh and full of the greening smells of rain-soaked earth.
After about fifteen minutes, the rain suddenly eased off, then stopped. The sun drifted softly into the misty lake until it sank and drowned, plunging the land into sudden darkness. It was peaceful, and even though death roamed just north of her, the quiet pinpricks of light shone into her soul, comforting it. For a moment, she pretended that she was home again, gazing at the gloaming and the twinkling lights of fireflies at the top of Jacob’s Mountain, and she allowed herself the small luxury of pretending she was there with John. Darkness would enfold them, just as his arms enfolded her, and the two of them would become an indistinguishable, single entity underneath the stars.
The breeze that sprang up held the scent of lilies, which made her think of her own pale, beautiful sister, and unspilled tears stung her eyes as she wished she were home and safe, singing and playing with Lilly. The tune of an old ballad found its way into her throat, floating out into the cold night as she leaned back to look deep into the spangled sky and pray for the safety of her loved ones back home. She suddenly understood how acutely painful homesickness could be.
Not much time had passed before a man and a woman loaded with bags and backpacks exited the terminal building, made their way down the steps, and slowly begin walking toward her. She squinted through the darkness, blinked, squinted harder, then, when they were ten feet away, the clouds parted below the gibbous moon and she let out a cry as she sprinted toward them. The woman dropped her bag, running to meet her.
“Sally Beth!”
“Lilly!”
They collided, laughing, crying, holding on to each other, jumping up and down, and screaming into each other’s ear until the man, struggling with all the baggage, caught up to them.
“What happened to your hair?”
Lilly’s hair was as short as a boy’s.
“I cut it. When I’m out in the field, it gets in the way, and it’s impossible to keep it looking decent.” She ran her fingers lightly through her shorn locks.
“Well, it looks awful! Why didn’t you wait and let me cut it?”
“You’ll get your chance.” Lilly laughed and reached out to brush a stray lock from Sally Beth’s forehead. Lilly looked tired and wan, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, the blonde brows and lashes disappearing in the glimmering moonlight. Not even any lipstick. Sally Beth had the sudden uneasy thought that the person standing before seemed insubstantial, like the mere ghost of her sister. Nevertheless, she was beautiful to her.
They were loading supplies onto John’s Skylane before Sally Beth finally got the complete story. The man was Phil, Lilly’s photography partner, and Sally Beth agreed that he definitely was not Lilly’s type. He was big and hairy, with a low forehead and big nose that made him look like a caveman, but intelligence glimmered in his sharp, brown eyes. Lilly introduced him proudly. “Meet my best buddy. The minute he heard the news about the invasion, he talked me into coming.
“He told me this could be the launch of a great career for both of us, that if we covered this story well enough, we would have all kinds of opportunities just falling at our feet. And you’re stationed so close to the action, we couldn’t be in a better situation. And of course, I was wild to know what was happening to you, so it didn’t take long for him to talk me into it. The only thing that kept us from getting here sooner was it took some time to get my passport and visa. I had to do exactly what you did, go to DC and sit on Senator Byrd’s doorstep.”
“What about your classes? You can’t just up and leave school in the middle of the semester!”
Lilly shrugged. “We’ve already aced our photography class; Dr. Jacobs told us he wasn’t going to stand in the way of our fame, and he gave us two hundred rolls of film to bring with us. We’re going to send it back to him to develop, and he’s going to submit the best pictures to the wire, and he says we’ll probably win an award. Phil’s going to write about what we see, and who knows—we m
ay get something published.”
“What about your other classes?”
“I turned in my English paper yesterday, or I guess the day before yesterday, depending on what day this is. I’ll miss the final, but my teacher says she’ll accept whatever I write about the war as a substitute, and my women’s studies teacher will do the same as long as I write something about how the war is affecting women. I’ll just take an incomplete in my math course, and I can finish it when I get back. All the teachers are so excited for me; they are doing everything they can to help.” She gave a little laugh. “And I thought teachers were mean! Of course, that was back when I was more interested in boys than in class. I think they like you better when you get serious.”
“But how much did it cost for you to get here? There can’t be much money left in the account.”
“Oh, I sold my car,” Lilly answered breezily. “I made $500 profit on it, and I paid Jimmy Lee back.” She grinned. “Well, mostly. Partly. He wouldn’t take more than $200. Edna Mae told him we both had lost some jewelry in the fire, and I think she may have lied about how much it was worth.”
“You sold your car? Lilly!”
“Yeah, well, it was a gas hog, and besides, I need something that will take back roads better. I’ll get a jeep when I get back. We’ll be rich after we sell this war story to the wire service.”
Phil laughed. “Rich enough to go chase after another story, anyway.”
John shoved the last box into the fuselage. “Right. That’s all she’ll hold,” he said, slamming the door shut. “You’re going to have to put your luggage under your feet and on your laps.” He turned to Sally Beth. “I’m holding you to that promise. You’re taking off this time, and flying the whole way. I can’t keep my eyes open another minute. And don’t you dare offer me a cup of coffee. I just want to sleep.”
The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set Page 67
