Long Walk Home

by DiAnn Mills

  All of the ways God speaks to His children rolled across Paul’s mind like credits in a movie. Perhaps he could touch on the latest, the issue tearing at his heart like a wild animal seeking to devour him. “Have you tried to share the gospel with Dr. Kerr?”

  Bishop Malou stared ahead. His brows narrowed, and he nodded slowly. “I learned enough from her to realize she knows much about the Bible, but her heart is hardened. I’ve met many educated people who feel they have no use for God.”

  Paul digested his words. “I believe she once made a decision for the Lord. Her family is Christian. In fact, her grandfather was a minister.”

  “Medical school could have swayed her. For many, the theology of science is the answer to all things.”

  “I think something happened to turn her against God.” Paul wiped the perspiration dripping down his face. The kiss he’d shared with Larson pricked at his conscience. He knew better.

  “The Bible says for us not to yoke ourselves with unbelievers.”

  Paul startled.

  “You don’t have to say a word,” Bishop Malou said.

  “The more I think and pray about it, I see my job is first to lead her to the Lord.” He attempted a laugh. “Besides, if I were interested in her romantically, Ben Alier would kill me. He’s looking for an excuse anyway.” How much should he say about Larson? “I did kiss her the other day, and Nyok witnessed it. I apologized, but now I worry I’ve ruined my chances to share Jesus with her.”

  “I believe you have two solutions to your problem,” Bishop Malou said. “Whether she is away from the Lord or has never asked Him to be a part of her life, you have a responsibility to guide her in the Lord’s direction. The second matter is your feelings for her. Prayer for guidance is critical. Now, the colonel is a whole different matter.”

  A mixture of frustration and compassion swirled in Paul’s brain and tingled throughout his body. “I’ve prayed about those very things. To complicate matters, I’ve made a commitment to help find Ben’s sister and help Larson get Nyok out of Sudan. The boy wants to join the SPLA, and Ben is encouraging it.”

  Bishop Malou chuckled. “You don’t live an easy life, do you?”

  Paul returned the smile. “Never have. I’d consider it an honor if you would pray for me.”

  “I have been doing so, and I will continue. Where do you think God is leading you with all this?”

  They continued a bit farther in silence. Paul’s thoughts refused to cease. “To do both.”

  Shouts of villagers captured their attention. A young boy rushed to greet them with words of welcome for Bishop Malou. For now, Paul’s anxiousness must wait. He loved ministering to these people, talking about the Lord, and watching Bishop Malou baptize new believers.

  Tonight, when the hush of sleep crept around the village, he would ponder and pray about it all again. He would remember Abraham and the quest to find his family. He would ask God for purpose and direction. He would pray for Ben to find the God of his family and his sister. He would recall Larson’s sweet kiss and the sadness of her troubled mind. Last of all, he would deliberate on what to do about Nyok. Since Nyok had found Larson and Paul together, the boy’s anger had surfaced again.

  CHAPTER 20

  Ben tramped through the thick green foliage in the late-afternoon sun. Judging by the familiar acacia trees and the high waters to the south, he would be in Warkou by evening. He had marched his men since dawn through the midday rains, a trek he hadn’t planned on taking for another month, longer if he could put it off. After what happened the last time, Ben intended to avoid Larson for as long as possible. He had never been turned down by a woman, but pride wasn’t the only issue. Seeing too much of her caused him to lessen his focus. Ben wouldn’t be heading to Warkou now except for a message from Farid.

  The Arab had sent word through one of Warkou’s warriors that he needed to talk to him. Ben had repeatedly mulled over the matter until he was tired of wondering why. Farid could have decided to lend his financial support to the SPLA. Maybe he’d decided to tell what he knew about Rachel. The confession ought to set Larson straight about her saintly pilot. The idea of those two working together bothered Ben—a lot.

  Since the meeting in Wulu, Ben had tried to focus on the economics of Sudan and what the leaders envisioned. They painted a bright outlook for the country—once the GOS met their demands. With this hope, the leaders planned the infrastructure necessary for a new southern Sudan. Ben was pulled in different directions. As tired as he was of fighting, war flowed through his veins. What would he do without it? How would he serve southern Sudan?

  * * *

  Larson’s back ached from leaning into the swollen river and washing clothes. She and Rachel used to enjoy this together—not the work, but the reprieve from the clinic’s demands. The other women crowded around her as if their presence would bring back some of the magic. Only Rachel held that distinction. Nothing could replace her musical laughter.

  Larson stood and stretched. She craved the sound of Rachel’s voice and the way she made the day glorious. Glancing around her, Larson saw the anguish in the other women’s faces.

  “We miss her too,” Sarah said, her round, wrinkled face glistening in the morning heat. “Rachel was God’s messenger.”

  Must it always lead back to God? I crossed an ocean to escape Him. The longer she stayed in Sudan, the more believers gathered around her. At times she thought God was chasing her. What irony, especially when she didn’t believe a God existed, certainly not One who promised love in the midst of pain. No thanks. She believed in the tangible, not illusions.

  Paul believed in God as strongly as Bishop Malou and other Christians. The two men’s enthusiasm reminded her of little boys caught up in a game of good guys and bad guys. They preached the good guys always win, when in fact she knew otherwise. Everything about Paul except his faith drew her in. Larson touched her wet fingers to her lips. He’d kissed her like she was porcelain—fragile, special. She appreciated every second of his embrace, although the mere thought was forbidden. His mannerisms reminded her of someone else, and she shuddered.

  No more. I can’t use Paul to recapture the past.

  The kiss. She had to make sure Nyok didn’t tell Ben. But how? She refused to bribe the boy, but neither did she want to resort to the same tactics Ben used. If only the right words to persuade Nyok would form in her mind. Had Ben instructed the boy to spy on her? The thought sent an angry current through her veins. Ben didn’t need another reason to kill Paul, and Nyok could push him over the thin edge between rivalry and the SPLA commitment.

  Pulling the last T-shirt from the river, Larson wrung it out and contemplated whether Ben had mistaken any of the conversations they’d had for interest. Goodness, they fought most of the time . . . and then he wanted her. The thought still upset her. The idea that he could have followed through with his intentions despite any protest from her twisted in her stomach. She couldn’t picture herself with him, not in a million years. He took lives. She fought to save them. But if beginning a relationship with Ben meant keeping Nyok out of the SPLA or Paul from being butchered . . . she would do it.

  Tonight she would talk to Nyok like old times, and when Paul returned from his missionary journey, she’d discuss what couldn’t happen between them ever again. And once Rachel was found, he’d be back flying food and supplies over Sudan. All this forgotten.

  Satisfied she’d solved her dilemma, Larson gathered up the wet clothes and headed for the clothesline near Sarah’s hut to hang them out before the afternoon rains.

  Larson lifted her gaze to search out Nyok. He always stood in the background and guarded the women, children, and elderly, just like the other warriors. She waved at him, but he glanced away. He looked like a silhouette against the blue sky, a proud boy too soon called to be a man. His response tore through her heart. He’d been aloof since the uncomfortable night, and she’d searched her mind for a way to restore their relationship. She should ask him about the ast
ronomy book, see if he would like any additional reading material on the subject. One of her contacts in the States might be willing to send a telescope. A flash of guilt danced across her conscience. She was guilty of bribery too. With a heavy sigh she walked toward Sarah’s hut. If bribery worked, then why not?

  While throwing her clothes over the clothesline and tucking her undergarments under her arm—these had a way of disappearing—an eerie chill raced up her spine. Whirling around, she saw the subject of her distress standing with Nyok.

  “Hi, Ben. I didn’t expect to see you this soon.” She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked to see if Rachel was with them.

  “Where’s Farid?” he said.

  * * *

  “We’ll be in Warkou by nightfall,” Bishop Malou said.

  The truck’s windshield wipers scraped across the glass. “Remind me to get you a few extra blades before your windshield is destroyed,” Paul said.

  “I have it on my list when I return to Kenya.” Bishop Malou laughed. “Traveling without them isn’t a smart move during the rainy season. Actually, I need to map out the next month. The roads will be impassable by then.”

  As much as Paul wanted to travel with his newfound friend, the journey steered him away from his commitments in Warkou. He hadn’t talked with Nyok since the night before he left with Bishop Malou. The relationship had taken a turn for the worse then and might still be severed. Ben’s face settled in his mind. Paul had a plan, but he needed the colonel’s support. Support meant trust, and Ben despised him. Only God knew if the colonel would agree.

  “I hope this isn’t our last meeting,” Paul said. “Just being with you has encouraged me in my Christian walk.”

  “Good.” Bishop Malou grinned. “I think you and I together could win all of Sudan for the Lord. The people don’t expect to see a black man and an Arab working side by side.”

  “Maybe in the future.” A bittersweet sensation filled Paul. He started to ask Bishop Malou about an old man fitting Abraham’s description, but he changed his mind. Sometimes finding Abraham seemed more like a dream than reality. “I’ll be praying for you.”

  The fiery sun had just met the horizon when the two men arrived in Warkou. Nothing in the world compared to an African sunset in deep shades of amber and blue. Paul loved his beach home in Malibu, but his heart was here amid the rugged beauty of a land centuries old.

  He thought of Larson, her sprinkling of freckles and the depths of her blue eyes. Strong and spirited just like Sudan. He thought of the many ways he could present the gospel to her, but wariness stood in his way. Concern for her soul must take priority.

  Weary, Paul headed to the clinic to speak with Larson before finding his cot next to Nyok in the adjacent hut. The night Nyok found him and Larson, the thought of Nyok slitting his throat had kept him awake most of the night. Whistling a tune, Paul stepped inside the clinic.

  There sat Ben with Larson, drinking coffee.

  CHAPTER 21

  Ben hated the sight of Farid. He represented everything the SPLA fought and died to destroy. The Arab’s small frame and weasel-like features wrapped in a phony Christian facade reminded Ben of the hundreds of years his people had been persecuted and enslaved. The thought of Larson calling Farid friend made the situation even more repulsive.

  “You sent for me?” Ben forced his sight on the animal before him.

  “I did. Thank you for coming.” Farid turned to Larson. “How are you?”

  She smiled, and the gesture fueled Ben’s anger. “Good. Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’ll get it,” Farid said.

  Ben fumed. That’s my coffee. “What do you want? Is this about Rachel?”

  Farid nodded and poured a mug full of the strong brew. “Would you like more, Colonel?”

  Ben stuck out his mug. “I’ve come a long way, Farid. This had better be worth my time.”

  The Arab took a seat on an empty cot. “I understand your responsibilities, Colonel. I have an idea, and I need your help.” He glanced at Larson and back to Ben. “Can we take a walk?”

  Ben stood. “Let’s go. I’m tired of wondering what this is all about.”

  Outside, the two men walked beyond the thatched-roof clinic toward the Lol River. There they would have privacy. Impatience coiled around Ben’s senses like a snake squeezing its prey.

  “I want to search in Khartoum,” Farid said. “If the GOS learned Rachel’s identity, they will likely have her there.”

  Stories about the ghost houses—torture chambers—and their tactics left Ben’s mouth dry. “I have contacts there.”

  “But I doubt they’re the same as mine.”

  Ben attempted to sift out any deceit in what the Arab proposed. “Why take this risk? Aren’t you wanted there?”

  “I am, but I’m not stupid enough to announce my presence. Look, Colonel, Rachel was with me when the GOS abducted her. I have a stake in this whether you want to acknowledge it or not. I’d feel the same if Nyok had been taken.”

  “What are you going to do once you’re in Khartoum?”

  “Call on a few people I trust. Find out what we need to know. Do whatever I can to determine if the GOS has your sister. And—” he took a breath—“if they do, see if we can get her out.”

  “How would you manage that?”

  “I’m relying on God for an answer. I’m willing to make an exchange—me for her—if necessary.”

  “How noble.” Ben glanced into the darkness. He didn’t trust the Arab, but Ben’s heart pounded with the thought of Rachel under interrogation. He’d sent out feelers, but nothing had resulted. The more time lapsed without locating her, the greater the likelihood she’d been killed. “What do you need me for?”

  “SPLA protection up the White Nile for as far as you can provide it. I don’t want to be captured or killed before I get there.”

  Ben hesitated. This could be a trap, but did he have a choice? “How many men do you need?”

  “I have no idea. Military is your specialty.”

  Right. It’s you and me the GOS want anyway. Doesn’t he know I’d trade my life for my sister? “So at a certain point, you’d take off alone?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t risk anyone else’s life in the North.”

  “No, I don’t think you would.” Ben smirked. “I’ll give you your escort. Just you and I will head north.”

  Farid studied him. “What good is the South if you’re killed?”

  “If I am, who do you think they’ll blame? Think about it, Farid. The North is already out to get you, and if I’m dead, the South will be too.” The night sounds of insects rose as dusk took over the sunset. Farid became a shadow.

  “Have it your way,” the Arab said. “How soon can you leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow. We can take a truck until the roads are impassable. I’ll arrange for a boat. Can you handle it?”

  “I can handle anything you throw my way.”

  Ben laughed. “I doubt it.”

  * * *

  Nyok watched Colonel Alier and Paul disappear into the shadows. He couldn’t make out what they were discussing, but they weren’t arguing. That fact alone surprised him and angered him just a bit. Nyok knew that Dr. Kerr hadn’t expected the colonel this soon. He could tell by her pale face.

  When Nyok thought about the situation between Dr. Kerr and Paul, he realized she hadn’t talked to him about it. She was frightened, and she should be. Nyok held the power of life and death over the Arab. He rather liked the position.

  A brush against his conscience seized him. Nyok cared about Dr. Kerr. He didn’t want her upset. She gave of herself in taking care of his people, and she’d been good to him. Nyok blamed the pilot. Paul was trying to take the colonel’s place in her heart, and Dr. Kerr belonged to Colonel Alier. She needed to understand her position.

  He stole back into the village. As Dr. Kerr’s protector, he must remind her of the seriousness of this mistake. If she failed to listen, he would be forced to tel
l Colonel Alier what he’d seen. Nyok tightened his jaw. He hoped all that had happened was a kiss.

  A twinge of regret settled. He liked Paul and didn’t want him dead. Another plan formed in Nyok’s head. He would explain to Paul the situation between the colonel and Dr. Kerr. That way the pilot could leave Sudan unharmed.

  Nyok studied the soldiers who sat around the fire, laughing and talking. Usually he joined them, and he ached to do so now, but not tonight. He had to take time to form the proper words. Paul must leave Sudan and allow the colonel to find Rachel. Nyok knew how to be persuasive.

  Inside the clinic, he helped Dr. Kerr straighten the area. She still looked uneasy.

  “Can we talk?” she said.

  “Aren’t you waiting for Colonel Alier and Paul?”

  “Yes, but we have a little time.”

  “What is this about?” As if Nyok didn’t already know.

  “You saw something, Nyok, and you misunderstood what happened.”

  He strained to hear her soft voice. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  She moved closer to him. “Not at all. You’re very intelligent.”

  “Don’t praise me because you want me to keep quiet.”

  She touched his shoulder, and he stepped back. “Please listen to me.” When he said nothing, she continued. “I have no feelings for Paul. I was upset, and he comforted me. That’s all there was to it.”

  Nyok raised his hand in protest. Children might believe those lies, but not him.

  Her forefinger tapped against his mouth. “Let me finish before you speak. I know Ben would be angry if he found out. So I will speak with Paul to make sure he understands we are only friends.”

  “And you’re asking me to ignore what I saw?” Nyok hid his satisfaction. This might work out fine. Another plan formed in his mind.

  “Yes. Once Rachel is returned to us, Paul will leave. Everything will be back to normal.”

  Nyok thought about her words. He’d seen women and noted their ways with men. As much as he cared for Dr. Kerr, he didn’t believe she’d keep her word. “I have a deal for you,” he said. She gave him her attention. “I’ll say nothing in exchange for you not stopping me from joining the SPLA.”