Where Tomorrow Leads

by DiAnn Mills

  “I’ll be back.” He meant it.

  “Please be careful.”

  They were her first gentle words to him since he’d tried to persuade her to marry him. Ben felt closer to love for Daruka than he ever had before. But he chased away those feelings as soon as they entered his mind. His heart still belonged to Larson. Her image stayed with him . . . always would. And I must focus on the trials of southern Sudan, not my needs.

  Ben’s gaze settled on David, who had heard and watched what had transpired between his parents. The solemn look on the boy’s face reminded Ben of the overwhelming responsibility of Sudan’s youth to their tumultuous country.

  “David, take care of your mother. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Ben saw the suspicious look in the boy’s eyes.

  “I give you my word,” Ben said. “Bishop Malou will marry your mother and me. I’ll make the arrangements while I’m gone.” He released Daruka and grasped David’s arm, then pulled him into a hug. It was the first time he’d ever held his son.

  * * *

  Larson fed Thomas his formula and noted how her infant son had begun to fill out. Little rolls of fat around his neck and legs indicated a strong, healthy baby. Still, she fretted over the unknown—her complete lack of knowledge of his mother’s prenatal care and the circumstances surrounding the girl’s pregnancy. Larson and Paul planned a trip to Nairobi soon to have Thomas tested for disease and other health issues. HIV rested foremost in her mind.

  She giggled at Thomas’s vigorous sucking noises. His world centered on a bottle and nipple. Larson’s mother would claim he’d soon be ready for meat and potatoes.

  Realization struck her. She hadn’t contacted her parents to tell them about the baby growing inside her or the one in her arms. As soon as she finished feeding her famished son, she’d make that call. With so much happening lately, she hadn’t phoned Mom and Dad for fear they might detect the danger stalking Larson and her precious family. But for now, she felt safe with Santino close by.

  Profound love for Thomas seized her. How could her heart have this much room for another baby or still another? She kissed his cheek and blinked back the wetness. Who would have ever thought that the tough and independent Dr. Larson Kerr might find real love and marry? More surprising was the fierce love she held for her children. All those years on the farm experiencing the innate passion of mamas had not prepared her for the feelings enveloping her now.

  Her granddaddy had owned a sow that no one could go near whenever she had a litter of piglets. That old sow would have eaten anyone or anything that might be a threat to her babies. Larson didn’t particularly want to compare her feelings to those of that old, surly pig . . . but she surely understood a mother’s protective nature.

  The phone rang, interrupting her pleasant thoughts, the ones that took her away from Sudan’s problems. A quick look at the caller ID showed her it was Paul.

  “Good morning, honey.” She laughed. “Your son cannot get enough to eat.”

  “My habibti, I miss you.”

  She detected sadness in his voice. “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m afraid so. John Garang was killed in a helicopter crash yesterday.”

  Larson sucked in a breath. “He was in office for only three weeks. Was it an accident?”

  “I don’t know. I doubt it. Anything I could say would be speculation.”

  “Do you want me to check your laptop and see what I can find?” All the lightheartedness of motherhood vanished with this grim reminder of reality.

  “I’d appreciate that. You’re feeding Thomas?”

  “Yes, but he’s had plenty.” She lifted him to her wounded shoulder with the phone tucked between her ear and other shoulder and rubbed the baby’s back, wincing a bit at the lingering pain.

  “I’m heading back to Warkou, so call me after you’ve had a chance to see what the international community and Khartoum are reporting. Better call your parents too. They’ll be worried once they hear the news.”

  “I agree. Did Muti tell you who ordered my abduction?”

  “No, and Commander Okuk has probably killed him by now.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I’ll search out the information and get back with you as quickly as I can.”

  Larson sat with Thomas until he burped like an adolescent boy. As she went through the motions of finishing her son’s feeding, tears slipped from her eyes and down her cheeks. Not like the emotion she’d experienced moments before over the joys of her role as a wife and mother, but utter sorrow for a man many had believed was the savior of southern Sudan. She feared John Garang’s death was no accident, and without substantial proof to the contrary, the southern community would not accept it as such either.

  She carried Thomas to the open doorway and welcomed the sunlight streaming through the treetops like liquid gold. The day’s rains would come soon enough, but for now, she accepted the light as a gift from God, a glimpse of Himself before the skies darkened. The days ahead held no promise of peace or freedom from political unrest, but God would still be walking with them under blue skies or gray.

  Perhaps her musings came from grief and melancholia. But they seemed more of a confirmation of how God helped her through each day.

  After laying Thomas in his cradle, she powered on Paul’s laptop for the latest world report on Sudan. Instantly she read how the tragic news had shattered the hopes of many southern Sudanese. With a heavy sigh, she called Paul.

  “I have information about John Garang’s accident,” she said. “At least, what is being reported.”

  “I’m ready. Tom’s already contacted me to get my opinion about it all.”

  Larson had scanned the reports before calling him. Placing her cursor at the top of one news release, she selected the items Paul would want to hear now. “Vice President Garang was killed in a helicopter crash in southern Sudan after a meeting with Uganda’s president. Many southern Sudanese are suspicious of the northern government, since Garang survived a twenty-one-year civil war.” She read further. “Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni has called for an official investigation. Then another report says Museveni should not have allowed Garang to leave in a helicopter that late in the evening. Still another states the Lord’s Resistance Army in Uganda might be responsible.

  “Who knows, Paul? In my opinion, it looks like the responses are led by anger and sorrow rather than facts, and more than one group had reasons to see Garang dead. Whatever really happened is not clear, but the North and the SPLM are working together in an investigation.”

  “What a mess. I’m assuming there’s rioting as we speak.”

  “Definitely in Khartoum.”

  “If the world wants to find out who killed him, they need to pinpoint who had the most to gain from his death.”

  “What’s Ben saying?” Larson stood from the chair and walked to the doorway, where clouds already scurried across the sky.

  “He’s angry. Doesn’t know who to blame, so he’s blaming all the factions.”

  “That’s Ben.” She paused and stuck her hand out to catch the first few drops of rain. “What do you think?”

  “Disappointment. Anger. Fearing all of this means a major setback for southern Sudan and the situation in Darfur.”

  Larson searched for anything to lessen the burdens on her husband’s mind. “Don’t you think if an investigation proves Khartoum planned the crash, the international community will come down hard?”

  “For certain the SPLA will retaliate, and the bloodbath will resume again. I think I need to keep in daily contact with Ben in hopes of discouraging anything resembling full-scale war. Of course, if the government is behind it, they’ve covered their tracks.”

  “I agree.” She decided to forge ahead on a matter that concerned her. “Have you heard from Nizam?”

  “No. Since Muti is in custody, I’m hoping the matter is ended.”

  “Paul, he will not stop trying to see you until . . .”

  �
�He is successful? Don’t you think I see what is happening?”

  She took a breath to keep from saying what she really thought. “Let’s talk about something else. Do you think Ben looks okay?”

  “I suppose. You’re the doctor.”

  “He should have stayed in Nairobi a while longer. He’s pale and thin.”

  “Can you gain access to his medical records?”

  Larson bent to adjust the mosquito netting on Thomas’s cradle. “Not without his permission, and we both know the likelihood of his consent.”

  “Maybe his upcoming marriage will put him in a better mood.”

  “What? Ben’s getting married?”

  “That’s what the old warhorse told me. Remember him speaking of David while we waited for the AIM pilot to pick him up? Ben has been talking to the boy’s mother, and they’ve decided to marry.”

  Relief washed over her. “I hope they’re very happy.”

  “Makes me wonder if the signing of the peace treaty had a lot to do with it. He should be able to relax now and enjoy his wife and son.” Paul paused. “Let’s just pray Garang’s death is not a catalyst for bloodshed, and it doesn’t destroy Ben’s plans for the future.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Ben shifted from one foot to another. He’d repeatedly told himself he shouldn’t be nervous about marrying Daruka, but the burning sensation in his belly was worse than being outnumbered by enemy soldiers. Did all men go through these doubts while in the middle of a marriage ceremony?

  The smell of a butchered white bull roasting over a fire met his nostrils. He didn’t deserve the village’s tradition in honor of him. Would this day ever end?

  Paul and Larson were seated somewhere behind him. Their presence—or rather, knowing Larson was witnessing his marriage—affected him. A part of Ben wanted her to never forget him. At times he wished he could hate her, wished she’d say or do something that would turn him against her. But she had yet to fall from her pedestal. Not a day passed a memory didn’t yank at his heart. There’d been a time when he would have gladly killed Paul to have her. They were territorial lions who both wanted the same mate, but those days had ended when Paul had proved his mettle and saved Ben’s sister from a life of slavery in northern Sudan. Now Ben called him friend.

  No doubt Larson thought Ben’s feelings for her had wasted away when he’d announced his plans to marry Daruka, but Paul wasn’t so easily convinced. What a foolish man Ben had become. Must be the painkillers playing havoc with his mind. Too bad a drug hadn’t been discovered that could manage heartache . . . or death. Time might have eventually resolved his problems, but when his numbered days came to a halt, the cancer would take care of all tormenting him.

  Paul had wanted to fly him and Daruka to Nairobi for a honeymoon, but Ben refused and didn’t tell Daruka. He didn’t want to leave David. Even now he considered taking the boy with him back to his battalion. If fighting broke out in the aftermath of John Garang’s death, he’d have his son escorted safely back to Daruka.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw David beside him, his shoulder span wide and his height not far from Ben’s. Pride and regret hammered at his heart. Deserting his son had to be one of the worst things he’d ever done. Now, love for his son fueled all of his actions. Daruka could never learn how Ben’s feelings about his life were torn in so many directions. He often didn’t understand himself.

  On the other side of him stood Daruka, a beautiful woman and a prize for any man. If only he cared for her as he should. She deserved more than a loveless marriage and fast-approaching widowhood.

  She must have sensed him staring down at her, for she looked up and smiled. He smiled back. After all, he must give the appearance of a lovesick groom instead of a man consumed in misery. Until a few days ago, he hadn’t gained her confidence.

  “Do you have other children?” she’d said one night when they were alone.

  “No.” Not to his knowledge, anyway.

  “And you haven’t ever married?”

  “Never.” He turned to her. “We will need to take our time as husband and wife. But I am eager to be married.”

  In the shadows she shook her head. “Even though I don’t want you to touch me?”

  “Yes. I meant what I said. I want to take care of you and David like I should have done a long time ago.”

  “I appreciate all you’ve said and the things you’ve done for David and me.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t have a husband. You’re a beautiful woman.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “Some things about me have never changed. The girl grew into a woman, but her heart has always been the same.”

  Ben knew exactly what she meant. Compassion settled upon him. “I’ll earn your trust.”

  “Good. I want us to be husband and wife . . . as God intended. David needs to see us happy together.”

  “I feel the same way.” Ben took her into his arms and rested his head atop hers. She didn’t resist.

  Now, as he faced Bishop Malou on his wedding day and prepared himself to make promises he couldn’t keep, Ben questioned his own sanity. For a moment, he considered doing the honorable thing and walking away. But what was the honorable road? Daruka loved him, David needed a father, and cancer was eating away at his body. Ben steadied his attention on Bishop Malou, and the man lifted his gaze. Could he see the lies? The truth waged war in Ben’s mind. If he endured this ceremony, he could live the next few months in the company of his son.

  Bishop Malou turned to Ben. “Repeat after me. I, Benjamin Alier, take thee, Daruka Wol, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part, according to God’s ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my troth.”

  The bishop’s voice roared as though someone might find fault with his words. Ben forced conviction into his vows and hoped no one heard the deceit. Sometimes he feared everyone saw through his lies.

  * * *

  “I’d like to take a trip to Nairobi in a few days.” Santino fell in step with Larson as she walked from her tukul to the clinic—his daily habit, whether Paul accompanied her or not. “I need to register for classes at the university. Take some tests and see where I’m at.”

  “I agree. You shouldn’t wait, and classes fill up quickly.” Larson smiled into the face of the tall young man whom she and Paul had grown quite fond of. “Education is your most important asset in helping your country—that, and a sound faith in God.”

  “Thank you. Can Paul be here while I’m gone?”

  “I’ll talk to him about it. How good of you to consider our needs when you have your whole future to plan for.”

  “I take my role as your bodyguard seriously,” he said. “I want to make sure Paul is able to handle any problems in my absence.”

  She laughed at his seriousness. “I wouldn’t let him hear you say that. He’s very proud of his arsenal.”

  “And the Hummer.”

  “Oh yes. Both of us are quite fond of the truck.” A chill crept over her arms at the memory of what had happened in Darfur.

  “I’ve never understood why Paul keeps all of these weapons, then speaks about Christianity to the people.”

  How many times had she and Paul discussed the same issue? Neither of them had an answer. They didn’t fill the role of missionaries, but they were Christians living their faith in a third-world country. “My husband believes in protecting those he loves and the helpless. We don’t want to see anyone killed, but if we’re attacked or if someone we love is threatened, we fight back.”

  “I think I understand. Your beliefs are sometimes strange to me. From some Christians I hear ‘Love everyone and live in peace.’” He shrugged. “But the government soldiers are afraid of your husband’s power.” He smiled. “Aunt Sarah is working very hard to convince me about your Jesus.”

  Larson swung him a curious look. Did Santino really understan
d her and Paul’s commitment to Christ and what obedience to Him truly meant?

  “What is your faith?”

  “You would have difficulty understanding my beliefs.”

  “Try me. I haven’t always been a Christian, and I’ve lived among the Sudanese for ten years. Paul and I have encountered many tribal customs and beliefs. I would not be surprised.”

  “Someday I’ll explain my religion. I promise.”

  “I’ll remind you. So let’s get back to your trip to Nairobi. Have you mentioned this to Sarah?”

  “This morning. She’s happy but has a few tears. I realize she enjoys having me live with her, but she’s anxious for me to begin my schooling.”

  “She wants the best, but that means saying good-bye.” Larson palmed her hand against her forehead. “Oh, I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. Would you like Paul to fly you to Nairobi?”

  “I feel uncomfortable even mentioning such a huge undertaking since you two have been so good to me.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve been such a help to us. Why don’t you visit with Paul about it now? He’s taking care of Thomas.”

  Santino hesitated. “You and Aunt Sarah would be alone in our absence.”

  “I’ll talk to Ben. He’ll have a solution.”

  “If Colonel Alier can arrange for a soldier to guard you, then I’d welcome a flight to Nairobi.”

  Santino stopped on the path and glanced back at Paul and Larson’s hut.

  “Go on and ask him.” Larson laughed at his hesitancy. “I have emails to answer and a list of medical supplies to make for when Paul takes you to Nairobi.” And I can send a sample of Thomas’s blood to make sure he’s healthy. Dear God, he has to be okay . . . no strange diseases . . . no HIV.

  * * *

  Paul carried Thomas along the path to the well. The women would be pumping water for the day, and he wanted to show off his son. A whimper alerted him to a possible problem, but a quick look showed him Thomas merely wanted attention—which he instantly received. Paul studied the face of his son. Perfect in every way. God certainly had a sense of humor to give him and Larson two babies within months of each other. To think the Farids had believed their lives would be childless.