After the Rains (46 page)

Twenty-four hours later, the plane from Gospel Vision in Bogotá finally arrived bringing supplies and medicine. Natalie had been delirious since they had put her to bed the day before. David took turns with Meghan, sitting at her bedside, forcing sips of water and broth down her swollen throat, sponging her body with cool water, and praying as he’d never prayed before.

When Hank and Jim Logan, the Gospel Vision pilot, began to carry in the provisions, David thought he had never been so glad to see a box of pharmaceutical supplies and medication in his life.

Meghan Middleton seemed equally relieved. She took inventory, then did some quick, rudimentary blood tests before starting an IV on Natalie.

David watched as she tucked a light sheet around Natalie’s shoulders. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked.

The nurse nodded. “I hope so. I wish you’d gotten here two days ago.”

“She wasn’t even sick two days ago, Meg. At least she never said anything.” He was feeling unaccountably guilty.

Meg reached across Natalie’s bed, expertly regulating the quinine solution that dripped through the IV line. “But if I’m reading the tests right, this should make a difference soon. I’m just glad the plane got here when it did.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Meg told him as they stepped into the hallway. “We’re all praying.”

“I know,” he said. “Thank you, Meg.”

He went out to the airstrip where Hank was filling the pilot in on the news David had brought from Timoné while they loaded the pontoon boat with a temporary radio and other basic provisions to take back to Nathan Camfield. The river had flooded its banks, so the trip back upriver would take at least twice as long.

Before Juan Miguel untied the boat, Meghan came running out to the dock. “Here! Wait,” she called. She handed the Colombian an envelope and turned to David. “Could you please ask him to give this to Dr. Nate? I thought he would want to know the details about Natalie’s condition,” she explained.

David nodded and relayed the message in Timoné, while Meghan offered her thanks in the few broken words of Timoné she knew.

David and Hank spent the rest of the morning setting up the new radio, while Jim Logan got the plane ready to fly to San José, and then on to Bogotá, where they would check in with Gospel Vision’s headquarters and file reports on the events of the past week. There they would replace Nate’s temporary radio with a more powerful one, and—if the organization’s funds allowed—buy computers and other supplies to replace the things each mission had lost in the raids.

David went to check on Natalie one last time before he and Hank flew out. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but Meg sat by her bedside, obviously concerned that her fever still had not broken.

“Will you—please tell Natalie goodbye for me when she wakes?” David asked the missionary.

In spite of the fact that Meghan Middleton was a few years David’s junior, she gave his hand a motherly pat. “I’ll take good care of her, Dave. I promise. She’ll be anxious to see you when you get back.”

He dipped his head, wondering if Meg guessed how strong his feelings for Natalie were.

“Now you take good care of Hank for me,” Meg ordered, a barely perceptible quaver in her voice.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll do that. You sure you’re okay to stay here alone?”

She nodded, encompassing the village with a sweep of her hand. “These are good people”—she glanced heavenward—“and I have a loving Father. I’ll be fine. But thanks for asking.”

Twenty minutes later, he watched Hank kiss his wife goodbye, saw the tears in Meghan’s eyes and the strength they seemed to draw from each other’s embrace. He sighed, a long-hidden yearning in his own heart exposed. He didn’t want to die without knowing a love like this.

When the plane lifted into the air, then dipped and turned northward, David watched out the window of the small craft as Conzalez disappeared beneath the ocean of dense foliage below them. He felt the familiar tug of God’s Spirit on his heart. Maybe it was time he took his own advice. Maybe it was time to forgive himself for what could never be changed. What would always be regret.
What had already been forgiven by the One who mattered most
. Wasn’t that what he’d told Natalie?

Natalie opened her eyes. The room was bright with morning sun, and she squinted against its glare. It took her awhile to remember where she was, but Meghan Middleton’s beautiful soprano voice drifted from somewhere in the house, reminding her quickly that she was in Conzalez. Natalie recognized the melody of an old hymn, but the words Meg sang were Spanish.

She looked across the room and out through the screened window. She wondered if David had left for San José yet.

She started to sit up on the side of the bed, but the minute she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, she felt lightheaded and woozy. She eased back against the pillows, grateful again for the soft comfort of the cotton sheets beneath her.

She tried to call out to Meg, but her throat was parched and swollen, and her voice was weak. She stared at the wall, watching a tiny green anole lizard scale the logs and scurry across a rafter. She smiled, remembering how revolted she had been by the slithering reptiles just a few months ago. Now this little fellow, blinking at her from his perch overhead, seemed almost friendly. She thought of her beloved
utta
back in Timoné and wondered if Dad had already bartered it away for a side of venison or a mess of dried fish. She had asked him to keep it ready for her, but she had been acting like a spoiled toddler, and he hadn’t been inclined to make her any promises.

More regrets. Had she ruined every chance of ever returning by her childish behavior? She knew now that Dad had only been acting out of genuine concern for her. There was no denying that Colombia was a dangerous place to be right now. But she truly wasn’t afraid—not since she had witnessed God’s miraculous protection and intervention during the raid on Timoné. Why didn’t her father see that too?

Her thoughts drifted to the time she’d spent with David on the boat. He had said some harsh things to her, but as she played them over and over in her mind, she began to grasp the truth in what he’d said. David was right: She had been arrogant and self-absorbed in thinking that her redemption depended on her own actions, on trying to work her way out of her guilt. As David had said, the only forgiveness that counted had been granted two thousand years ago on a hill called Calvary. She owed a huge price—an unspeakable sum—for the pain she had caused through Sara’s death. But that price had been paid on that lonely hill, when God’s Son had hung on a cross and died. For
her
sins. No matter how shameful, no matter how devastating, no matter how permanent.

Suddenly chastened within her spirit, Natalie closed her eyes. “Oh,

Father,” she whispered, “forgive me. Forgive me for not acknowledging that what you did was
enough
. I know now, Lord, that there’s nothing more I need to do, except live my life completely for you.” She turned her palms up in her lap and lifted her hands as high as her weakened condition allowed. The action was painful, but it seemed important somehow—a physical symbol of her heart’s surrender. “I accept the grace and mercy you offered me long ago. Please, Father, fill me with your perfect peace.”

Even as the word
peace
left her lips, she felt the personification of it wash over her. She was flooded with unspeakable joy, and for the first time since the accident the heavy burden of guilt and shame was lifted. She drew in a deep breath and could almost feel the strength return to her body.

Outside her door, Meg had stopped singing, and now Natalie thought she heard voices in the house. She sat forward, straining to make out the words. Her heart leapt as she recognized Dad’s voice. But how could her father have gotten here so soon?

She tried again to call out. “Meg? Dad?”

Within seconds, Meghan appeared in the doorway. “Natalie! You’re awake.” She rushed to her bedside and put a hand to Natalie’s forehead, beaming her thousand-watt smile. “How are you feeling? I just talked to your dad.”

“He’s here?”

“No. I’m sorry … on the radio, I meant.” Meg smoothed the sheets and, feeling Natalie’s forehead again, took her temperature. Then, as though the idea had just struck her, she said, “Let me run and see if I can still catch your dad on the radio. He’ll be so happy to hear you’re awake. He’s been worried sick about you. It was all I could do to convince him he didn’t need to hop on a boat and come doctor you himself.”

“Tell him
hollio
for me,” Natalie croaked out. But she could tell by the sound of Meg’s footsteps that she was already halfway down the hall. She lay there listening to the murmur of voices as Meg assured her father that she was doing much better.

Feeling at peace, yet desperately homesick for Timoné, for her father—and most of all, for a wise and wonderful man named David—she drifted back to sleep.

Forty

F
rom his seat beside the pilot of the Cessna 172, David Chambers looked out over the sea of lush vegetation that swayed almost imperceptibly in the jungle breeze. He cupped a hand to his forehead and traced the edge of the Rio Guaviare with his eyes, straining to catch sight of Conzalez. He desperately needed to see for himself that everything was all right in the riverside village—that Natalie was all right.

He and Hank Middleton had spent four days in Bogotá securing supplies and filing reports with the mission headquarters and the American embassy. David had also, at Nathan Camfield’s request, contacted Cole and Daria Hunter, asking them to be ready to fly to Bogotá as soon as their daughter could be moved there.

All the while he had been in the city, his thoughts had never been more than a heartbeat from Natalie. Blessedly, they had been able to get through to Meghan on the radio daily, but David needed to see Natalie with his own eyes, needed to hear her voice one last time before she flew away from him.

Natalie smelled the tangy, masculine scent of him even before she opened her eyes and saw David Chambers sitting in the chair beside her bed. The fluttering of her heart revealed her true feelings, and she was afraid she would cry at the sheer relief of finding him here.

He sat with his head down, so stock-still that for a moment she wondered if her imagination had conjured him. She freed her hand from the light blanket that covered her and reached out to touch his arm.

He started and turned toward her. The smile on his weary face was greeting enough.

“Natalie.”

“David, you’re back,” she croaked.

He nodded. “How are you feeling?”

She gave a little shrug. Her head still hurt too much to waste words.

“Here,” he said, offering a fresh glass of water with a bent straw.

She took a sip, her eyes meeting his over the rim of the glass. The water felt cool on her throat, but it was agony to swallow.

David patted her arm. “You’re getting better,” he told her. “Meg is pleased with your progress.”

He cleared his throat in a way that made Natalie study his eyes again.

“I’m going back today,” he told her. He looked at the floor. “There’s no reason for me to stay—” He cleared his throat again and started over. “I need to get back, Nattie. I’ve lost days as it is. Your parents will be in Bogotá in a couple of days. You’ll be fine here until they can fly you out.”

The lump in her throat was not a result of the malaria. She stared at him, her mind reeling. The fact that he’d offered excuses before she’d even protested was not lost on her. “When … when will I see you again?” she whispered.

David ducked his head. “I don’t know. There’s no telling how long it will be before it’s safe again.”

“I’m afraid,” she breathed.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Natalie. You’ll be safe here now. That’s why we—”

“No, David. You don’t understand. I’m— I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”

“Stop it, Natalie.” His gaze pierced her, then he turned his eyes to the floor. “Maybe it’s for the best.”