Journey of Hope. Debbie Kaufman
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The jungle she could handle. She’d climb a million downed trees and wade through as many swamps as it took, but the memory of her first mammy-chair ride, missing her footing and her sodden skirts dragging her downward into the sea, left her with a healthy fear of the ocean. There were no words in all of the languages she spoke to express the horror of that experience.
She looked toward the port side. The not-too-distant shore still boasted an empty beach lined with dense foliage. Garraway hid from sight, but couldn’t be far. Patience to reach her destination eluded her as she settled herself into the deck chair and tucked in a blanket.
What if the rice harvest came earlier than she expected and the devilmen started the school before she arrived? The rains weren’t due to end for several weeks, but she wouldn’t rest until she returned and saw Taba with her own eyes. She fingered the pages of the Bible in her lap but worry for his safety left her too distracted to read. After a few moments she closed both the book and her eyes to pray for the grace to trust that this business arrangement she’d entered into would be only the first of God’s provisions for her and Taba’s lives.
“Good morning, Miss Baldwin.” Stewart dropped down in the chair beside her. “Have you been out here long?”
Her heart raced from the startle. “Oh, goodness. You scared me.”
“I’m sorry, had you nodded off?”
“No, I was praying. I like to spend time in prayer and reading while I’m waiting for the breakfast gong to sound.”
“Are you hungry? I can go find a steward to get something for you.” Concern etched his face.
There it was, the kid-glove treatment. Too much in the jungle depended on him being willing to defer to her, not to coddle her, especially since he’d already made his position on her authority clear. She’d have to work to change his opinion if she expected this trip to go smoothly.
“No, thank you. I prefer to wait until they’re serving and eat with everyone else.” Authoritative, healthy, strong—any of those would have been the better impression to make. Instead she’d sounded curt, almost rude.
He raised one eyebrow. “Am I being deliberately handed the cold and frosty?”
“Sorry, that came out more harshly than I’d intended. I don’t like to be fussed over. I’m recovered and fully able to take care of myself.” Now she just sounded formal and stilted.
He answered with a grin. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make a note of it. No coddling the missionary lady.” He rose from the chair. “You look like you’d rather be alone. I’ll push off, but perhaps we could talk on the promenade after breakfast if you can get free of Mrs. Dowdy.”
“Wait.”
He sat back down.
She heaved a sigh. “I’m a little grumpy today and taking it out on you. I apologize. I often suspect all the scriptures about the tongue were written personally for me.”
“Feeling a little punk is usually a good sign of recovery. Or so they told me when I used to bite the nurses’ heads off.”
“You’re being generous. Thank you. So what put you in the hospital?”
He looked like a trapped animal. What had she said wrong?
He rallied. “Just one of the many courtesies of the Great War. Nothing you’d want to hear about before breakfast.”
Anna watched the pulse in his jaw. More like something too painful to discuss that he kept hidden behind that smile. Her stomach rumble changed her focus at the familiar throaty resound of the breakfast gong. Anna shoved the blanket back. “Speaking of breakfast. Shall we head for dining?”
He reached out and took her hand to help her up. The gloves she wore were little protection from the heat of his touch or the sudden intensity in his voice. “Not until I speak to you about something. Now. Before I lose my nerve.”
Oh, no. She thought she’d settled this yesterday. The last time a man looked that earnest she’d been forced to turn down his unwanted proposal of marriage. Twice. Surely all his flirting didn’t actually mean something. Every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation of pending disaster.
“I owe you an apology. I was out of line yesterday with my attentions. I didn’t mean any offense. Flirting is an old habit I’ve yet to break myself from doing.”
She relaxed and allowed herself to breathe. “None taken. Apology accepted.”
“Good. To paraphrase Mr. Shakespeare, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. This is strictly a business arrangement and you’re my guide.”
“Of course. Business.”
His relief was palpable. “Good, we understand each other.” He let go of her hand.
“Most certainly.” She should clarify her whole position while she had the chance. “Of course, to avoid any other possible misunderstandings between us, I need to emphasize that the business of the Gospel is a constant with me and not something I intend to set aside during our journey.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you saying you intend to convert me?”
Wind tugged at her scarf and she reached one hand to hold it secure. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t share the Gospel with those I encounter, yourself included. But my main point is for you to understand that if there is a choice between God’s work and yours, the Gospel takes first priority for me. I’ll do the job you require, but I’ll not allow anything to compromise my higher mission.”
His gaze grew somber. “I think your standards are clear. But I would rest easier knowing you don’t intend to try to make another disciple out of me. You’ll have better luck with the local population.”
“Ah, now I’m being given the cold and frosty.”
“Apparently we both have our sticking points. How about you don’t try to convert me and I won’t flirt with you. Truce?” He extended his hand, this time for a shake.
Anna shook it firmly. “I’ll agree, provided you feel free to rescind your part of the agreement at any time you wish to know more about God. Better to clear the air now, since the jungle trek can be stressful enough. We may have to rely on each other in some very trying situations.”
“Having survived the trenches during the war, I’m sure I can handle anything your jungle has for me.”
His nonchalance urged her to further explanation. “Despite your military experience, you’re in for something quite different here—days on end of narrow, root-ridden paths, climbing over downed trees, wading through waist-deep water and dealing with the sometimes deadly wildlife.”
His grin returned. “You make the journey sound so appealing, but you left out the constant daily soakings from the rains. Not trying to get me to turn back, are you?”
Her misgivings must be more obvious than she’d thought. “No, I’m very grateful for the opportunity to fund my mission work.”
“Well, don’t worry about me. I think I can manage.” He offered her his elbow.
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm and headed to breakfast. “I’m sure you can. You appear very...able.”
“It can’t be too bad if a little bit of a thing like you can handle it.”
She laughed at his implication. “Maybe not. But don’t let that overriding confidence build up too far. When we get off the boat at Garraway this afternoon, you’ll find the trek to get to our first stop at Newaka a bit misleading as to the difficulty that lies beyond.”
He halted abruptly just inside the companionway and turned to face her, freeing her hand from the crook of his arm. “Garraway? No, we are disembarking farther down the coast at Harper. I informed the second steward of the mistake when he asked about the different