CHAPTER FOUR

      SUNDAY BROUGHT A badly needed respite from Leslie’s first hectic week at the clinic. Her confidence and knowledge of the practice had improved significantly. Her Swahili, in contrast, was developing much more slowly. Mama Joe and Naomi were encouraging, however, and Elizabeth and Agnes were patient. Overall, she was pleased with her progress. The days were busy and enormously rewarding. Time off from seeing patients, though, was welcomed.

      Unless she was called away, Mama Joe was adamant that Sunday mornings were to be spent at the local church where the service was led by a missionary family named Merdian. “Paul and Judy and their adorable children have been here for almost three years,” Mama Joe explained during breakfast. “They’re working on translating the Bible into one of the tribal languages—like Ben’s parents used to do.” She smiled proudly. “Paul is highly respected by the local people, and most everyone calls him ‘Preacher’—even those who don’t come to church. His wife, Judy, is wonderful, too—she’s a terrific cook.” She sipped her coffee and added, “Oh, that reminds me. They’ve invited us to lunch.”

      The service was unlike anything Leslie had ever experienced. The church consisted of a large, tentlike structure with a concrete floor and permanent metal roof. The sides were composed of fiberglass panels that could be removed to allow for ventilation and replaced during the rainy season. Folding chairs were arranged in long rows, and Leslie estimated that the structure could easily hold two hundred.

      The nurses arrived early, but the church was already half-full. Mama Joe spied the preacher on a wooden stage, where he was trying to get a stubborn microphone to cooperate. “There’s Paul!” She waved in his direction.

      The preacher motioned them forward. As he jumped off the stage to greet them, Leslie determined that Paul Merdian was probably in his middle thirties, even though he was mostly bald. He was of medium height and sported a full brown beard, a few shades darker than the remaining close-cropped hair that encircled his head. He grasped Leslie’s hand enthusiastically when Mama Joe introduced them. “Judy and I have been looking forward to meeting you. We’ve heard very good things about how you’re adjusting.”

      Leslie blushed. “Oh, that’s nice to know. I still feel like I have a lot to learn, and Mama Joe’s only going to be here a little more than a week.”

      Paul smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. Titus and Naomi can help you out of just about any problem. And Judy and I are always here.” His gray eyes were warm and friendly, with deep laugh lines at the corners. Leslie got the impression that he smiled a lot.

      While they were speaking, a petite woman with shoulder-length blond hair and a cheerful disposition joined them. Mama Joe hugged the newcomer, who introduced herself. “Hi, Leslie. I’m Judy. I can’t wait to hear about what all is happening back in the States.” Judy’s complexion was slightly pinkish and her features were fairly nondescript. Nonetheless, her lively blue eyes and a smile that rivaled her husband’s made her particularly attractive.

      Judy’s warm reception reassured Leslie and she instinctively knew they’d be friends. “Thanks for inviting us to lunch.” She smiled and added, “I’ll be glad to trade you all I know about what’s going on at home, if you’ll coach me on adapting to life in rural Kenya.”

      Judy laughed. “You’ve got a deal!”

      Leslie gestured toward the children playing tag outside the tent. “I think I can guess which are your children.” A boy and girl, deeply tanned but still obviously white, raced around the area, standing out among the twenty or so African children. A much smaller boy with pale brown hair toddled with them, trying to keep up.

      Judy grinned proudly. “Our older son is Johnny. He’s eight. Beth will be seven in a couple of months, and Stephen just turned two.”

      Leslie smiled and continued to watch the children, swallowing hard at Stephen’s toddler stride—for a moment, an image of her little girl sprang to mind. But the memory was not as painful as it had once been. “They look...ah...energetic. I’m guessing you stay pretty busy.”

      Paul wiped his forehead in mock weariness and sighed audibly. “Busy doesn’t begin to describe what I have to do. All the cooking and cleaning and teaching...just kidding. Judy’s remarkable. She does most of the kid-rearing, including teaching them at home.” His pride and affection were evident. “Better excuse us. We need to get started. We’ll catch up with you after the service and head to the house.”

      Leslie and Mama Joe found seats near the front of the tent. They were surrounded by colorfully dressed villagers. Glancing around the gathering, Leslie was pleased that she recognized a few faces. Mama Joe greeted a number of the people in the congregation.

      The service lasted nearly three hours, and Leslie loved every minute. Singing dominated the first hour. Some songs were in English, but most were in Swahili or one of the regional dialects. Judy accompanied many of the hymns, playing an aged, upright piano with obvious skill. But most of the African songs were sung a cappella, and Leslie was captivated by the villagers’ complex harmonies. At times it seemed like there were three or four different songs being sung simultaneously, but the melodies blended into a joyous whole. Scripture readings were interspersed with testimonies from those in the congregation before Paul gave a message. The service closed with more singing.

      While Paul finished his duties at the church, Mama Joe and Leslie went home with Judy and the children. The Merdians lived only a short distance away, and, like the clinic, their home consisted of a group of buildings surrounded by a high cinder-block wall. The wood-frame house was one story and painted white. A wide porch fronted it, complete with comfortable-looking rockers. Leslie stared appreciatively at the carefully cultivated yard of thick green grass. Colorful beds of flowers surrounded the porch, a testament to the diligence of Paul, Judy or both. She saw red and yellow gerbera daisies and white and pink impatiens interspersed with snapdragons and hibiscus. Off to one side was a commendable rose garden with at least two dozen bushes sprouting blossoms of various colors. The sweet smell of the garden reminded Leslie of home.

      Mama Joe agreed to help Judy in the kitchen while the children gave Leslie a tour of the house. “This is where I sleep,” Johnny said as they entered a small room at the back. He proudly pointed to the handmade desk and bookcases, which were crowded with children’s books, readers and workbooks. A computer was pushed to one side. “These are my books. Mom teaches us school stuff every morning and makes us work really hard.”

      “Yep,” added Beth. “I’m in the second grade on some things with Johnny, but mostly I do first-grade lessons.”

      Johnny continued, “Stephen doesn’t read yet ’cause he’s still a baby. But sometimes we read to him and show him pictures. He likes that.”

      Leslie was charmed. Her heart tugged again when she saw one of the books she had read to Emma. She managed to blink back tears and refocused her attention on the children. “Maybe we can read a story after lunch.”

      Leslie picked up the toddler, who had been pulling at her dress, and he grinned at her shyly. Not wanting to be left out, Beth grabbed Leslie’s free hand. “Miss Leslie, do you like puppies? Our dog, Lady, had puppies last week.”

      “They don’t walk yet, and their eyes aren’t completely open,” Johnny said, “but they’re really cute. Want to go see ’em?”

      “I