Missionary Daddy. Linda Goodnight
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Bible said it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. All you have to do is look around to understand that.”
Sam had grown very quiet and Eric regretted his outburst. He bumped her hand with his water bottle. “Sorry. I didn’t need to dump my worries on you.”
“It’s okay.” But her soft voice held a sadness he couldn’t interpret.
For the past few months he’d been contemplating a decision about his work here. He’d prayed and studied the Bible, asked for opinions from the missions’ board and the African consulate. Still, he hadn’t decided how best to help the orphans he loved so much. Sometimes the frustration with people who could give and didn’t built up until he said too much.
“The orphanage meets the basic needs,” he said. “We teach them about Jesus, love them all we can, but children need more. They need families.”
“Matunde and Amani seem to think you are their family.”
He chuckled softly. “I guess I am. They’ve been with me since their mother died when Matunde was born. Afterward, I won their father to the Lord. When he got sick, too, he brought baby Matunde and his big brother here.”
“And you took them in.”
He took a swig from his water bottle, remembering the desperately ill man, weak and gaunt, who’d walked miles to ensure his children would be cared for. “It was their father’s last request. I couldn’t refuse, even though we normally refer infants to a baby hospital. In fact, Matunde was the first and only baby we’ve had here.”
“That’s why he’s crazy about you. You probably diapered the little guy.”
“I did. Clumsy as an ox, but he and I muddled through until Zola came along to help.”
Perhaps that was the reason he was so attached to the two brothers. He was the only parent they remembered. The thought of leaving them behind tore at him like tiger’s claws. The boys were part of his indecision.
“What you do is amazing. A true gift. I wish—” She let the thought trail away, saying instead, “How much longer until the construction is complete?”
“A week maybe. Mission teams generally work fast. All of you are doing a great job.”
She held up her bruised thumb. “You call this great?”
“Sure,” he said, bumping her with his shoulder. “A regular, bang-up job.”
She rolled her silvery eyes, but they both chuckled softly at the joke.
“Why do you call the orphanage Ithemba House?”
“Ithemba means hope in several African languages. Sometimes hope is all I can give them.”
“Hope is everything, Eric,” she said in a soft voice. “Absolutely everything.”
And he knew that Sam understood what so many others didn’t about missionary work. Without the hope that God had a plan and purpose even for the lowliest, humankind was lost.
Night sounds closed in around them. The symphony of a dozen frog species. The clear, pure trill of night birds. The calls and cries of nocturnal creatures on the move. Noises as familiar to Eric as the lilting cadence of the many African dialects.
A scream ripped the darkness. Sam yipped and clutched his arm. “What was that?”
The eerie howl and piercing scream came again.
Sam had moved so close, Eric was reluctant to answer. But in fairness, he admitted, “A jackal. No harm to us.”
He felt her relax, but she didn’t scoot away and he was glad. They sat close, her hand on his arm.
“The stars look so near,” she whispered. “I feel as if I can reach out and touch them.”
“Want me to get one for you?”
She turned her head the slightest bit, bringing her face close. Her full, bowed lips lifted in a soft smile.
“Would you?”
He was a missionary, a man not given to impulse, a man very careful not to overstep his bounds, but he wanted to kiss the lovely Sam.
He shifted around toward her, lifting one hand to brush a stray lock behind her ear. As he’d expected, her hair was silk. In the moonlight, their eyes met and held.
Then the sweep of car lights found them and Eric moved away, both thankful and sorry for the interruption.
“There’s my ride,” Sam said. Eric leaped to his feet and helped her up. Her skin, even after a hard day’s work, was as silky as her hair. Regretfully, that would change by the time her mission team left Africa.
They walked to the car, still holding hands.
“Thanks for your help today.”
She shook her head. “No. Thank you. I learned so much. I never—” Her voice choked. Eric moved closer, but Sam backed away and reached for the car door. “Bye, Eric. Today was wonderful.”
As the car pulled out, Eric raised a hand. “See you tomorrow.”
But he didn’t. In fact, Samantha never returned to the orphanage again. Eric was not only disappointed, he was bewildered to learn that Sam was not a part of the missions’ team. The team didn’t know her any more than he did.
No one could figure exactly what had happened. One thing for certain, she’d made an impression on him.
Eric spent a couple of days talking to God about the incident. Because for that one, beautiful day, he had almost believed in love at first sight.
And he didn’t even know her last name.
Chapter Two
Present day, Chestnut Grove, Virginia
His dream was coming true.
Eric Pellegrino sat at the desk inside the offices of Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency reading the home study of a prospective adoptive family.
Last year, after much prayer and counsel, he’d resigned his work in Africa to take the job as assistant director in charge of developing an international adoption program for Tiny Blessings. Now that the director, Kelly Van Zandt was pregnant and had cut back on her hours, he was heavily involved in all aspects of the agency, but his dream of finding permanent families for the orphans of Africa never left his thoughts.
Matunde and Amani were waiting. And the paperwork to make them his official children now awaited approval from the South African government. If all went well, other orphans would also soon be crossing the waters to loving families.
He completed his notes on the prospective parents and slid their information into a file. They, too, were interested in adopting from Africa.
As much as he missed the children, he liked his job here, although he sometimes chafed at wearing a suit and living by an alarm clock.
The Tiny Blessings agency was a good one, committed to doing Christ’s work, though an ugly scandal had rocked the place over the last couple of years. Kelly, with her meticulous organizational skills had nearly killed herself to set things right. Or rather someone had tried to kill her to keep things quiet.
Thank God, the insane woman had been caught and dealt with. Kelly, Pilar and all the other staff members worked diligently, not only to move new adoptions forward, but to right the wrongs of the past.
But every time they doused one firestorm of trouble, another seemed to flame up. Someone still didn’t want Kelly’s husband, Ross, to investigate the old falsified adoption records and had recently sent a threatening letter to the agency.
As a newcomer, Eric often had trouble keeping up with events that had happened before he’d arrived. But he’d been blessed with a great new church and new friends,