The Doctor's Mission

Trouble he had to straighten out now.

“Boys, let’s go back inside and talk.”

In unison, seven little faces frowned their distress, realizing they were losing their chance to go see the new arrivals. Before any could protest, William put his body between them and their intended route of escape and waited till they turned and shuffled barefoot back into the cottage. He closed the door behind him and prayed that God would give him the words to explain the difference between their medicine men’s fetish bags of charms and a female doctor who practiced science. But more important, how faith in God was stronger than what their medicine men offered.

Mary pushed her chair away from the dinner table. “Oh my, Hannah. I haven’t eaten this well since before I left home two years ago. Fresh fruit is such a luxury.”

Clara nodded vigorously, sending her double chin to jiggling though she was still chewing a mouthful of bread.

Hannah responded. “Most of the fruit grows naturally here without planting. You’ll find it the same where you’re headed.”

Karl’s thick brows knit together. “Two years. I knew the Kaiser disrupted ocean travel, but who’d have thought it would take that long to make all the connections to cross. It’s a good thing the Allies finally put him in his place.”

Clara spoke up. “Well, it was the Kaiser, but not the way you think.”

Mary chided nicely, “Hannah and Karl don’t need to hear our war stories.”

Karl smiled. “We don’t get much news about the rest of the world here. So we’d love to hear any stories from the outside.”

Before Mary could think of another way to change the subject, Clara launched into her tale. Normally she was such a quiet woman. Why did she have to become loquacious on the one subject Mary preferred to avoid? Even though the armistice was signed, the Great War was still a big topic. She just preferred not to talk about her part in it, though avoiding the topic hadn’t stopped the unmerciful memories.

“Dr. Mary and I met at Argonne. We both worked for the Red Cross at the field hospital.”

Hannah’s hand froze over the plate she was about to pick up. “You were at the battle they called the Big Show?” Her fingers fluttered over her heart. “Even here we’ve heard about that battle. How horrible for you.”

Mary put on a professional mask as best she could while Clara nodded and said, “It was truly. If Hades exists anywhere on earth, it would have to have been there at Argonne Forest. So many young boys lost tragically, brutally.” Tears brimmed in Clara’s eyes. “Why Dr. Mary here… .”

The chair legs screeched against the floor when Mary abruptly stood. “Clara. I don’t think we need to burden the Jansens with those horrors. I’m sure their imagination will suffice.” The last thing she wanted dredged up was the death of her brother. That wound was too raw to touch. Even now pain stabbed through her chest as she tried to shut out her memories—that final glimpse of him alive, bloody and barely breathing. Would she ever be free of that horrible image?

She caught the questioning look on Karl’s face. Those eyes saw too much. Before he could ask any questions, she turned to Hannah and asked, “May I lend you a hand with the dishes? I’m not used to being idle while others are working.”

“You’ll both be busy soon enough once you get to Nynabo. Tonight you’re our guests. Next time you come, I’ll put you right to work.”

“If Pastor Mayweather has his way, there won’t be any Nynabo in our futures. And certainly not a next time here.”

Hannah laughed as she continued her tasks. “Karl will set him straight on that. Won’t you, dear?”

Karl stood and pushed his chair under the table. “I’ll try, but it would be better if he realized the severity of the situation for himself, Hannah.”

Mary seized on what sounded like a life preserver. “The severity of what, Pastor?”

“Well, if he refuses to work with you ladies, he won’t be able to reestablish Nynabo for quite some time. When you consider how possessive the jungle is, any more significant delays risk the station not being restorable. He might have to start from scratch once the white ants get finished with an unoccupied compound.”

Clara asked, “The white ants?”

“African termites, dear. The natives call them bugabugs,” Hannah answered.

Mary’s curiosity overruled her good manners. “What’s stopping him from going on without us?”

“The malaria policy.” Hannah tossed the answer back over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.

“Pastor Mayweather hasn’t had malaria yet?” Mary asked.

Karl shook his head side to side.

Clara’s confusion threaded through her voice. “What policy? Isn’t it a good thing that Pastor Mayweather hasn’t been sick?”

Mary heard the back door open as Karl explained. “Until missionaries have come down with the White Man’s Death the first time, and lived through it, the Mission Board will not allow them to staff any mission post on their own. Without you, William must remain here until a replacement can arrive. That could take precious months that he doesn’t have to spare.”

Mary watched as William stepped out of the shadows by the back door and into the room. Anguish churned across his face and his hands were clenched into fists tight to his sides. “I would rather give up my call than be responsible for the deaths of these two women.”

Mary’s arms and hands trembled as the tiring day and disappointing reception from Pastor Mayweather finally caught up with her. Anger coursed through her veins. “Responsible for our deaths? Why, you…”

Everyone but Clara froze. She moved quickly to Mary’s side and placed her arm around Mary’s shoulders, attempting to herd her out of the room. “Dr. Mary, please. We’re all tired and it’s been a long day. Do not say anything you will regret. He means no slight.”

Mary pulled away from what was meant to be a calming embrace. She deliberately lowered her voice to avoid its strident tones. “Clara, dear, I am not going to be stopped from speaking my mind any longer.”

Mary lifted her eyes and looked toward William, addressing him with her most formal of tones. “I am sorry to learn that you are one of those men who cling to antiquated ideas of women’s roles and set themselves up as Lord and Protector.” A bit of the exasperation she felt crept out. “It’s the twentieth century, for goodness’ sake.”

Mary glanced to Hannah for her reaction. The plate in the older woman’s hand looked dangerously close to slipping to the floor, so rapt was her attention. Karl looked down, but was that a smile he was trying to hide? William readied himself to answer her, but Mary raised her hand to stop him.

“Please, let me finish, sir. You, Pastor Mayweather, aren’t responsible for me. I am responsible for myself, my own actions and my own consequences. If I were afraid of dying, I would have never signed my agreement with the Mission Board after they spelled out the possible dangers.”

William wedged in a quick answer. “With all due respect, Miss O’Hara…”

“If you wish to accord me respect, then please address me as Doctor O’Hara.”

“Doctor O’Hara, then. I don’t see how you can possibly understand what you might be getting yourself into.” William relaxed his fists and stretched out his hands in an apparent plea. “The interior is fraught with dangers, and even if you manage to live through your first bout of malaria, there are still wild animals and hostile cannibals to face.”

A blanket of emotional exhaustion wrapped itself around Mary. The man meant well. It was tempting to just walk away. But where would she go from here?

Returning home to her parents was out of the question. Her father’s reply to her last letter clearly stated his anger and grief over what she’d done. Better to stay here where she could hope to do some good, to atone for her brother’s loss.

Resolved, Mary straightened her spine. “I thank you for your concern, Pastor Mayweather, but I had malaria as a child back in Virginia. The animals and cannibals I’ll deal with when the time comes. I have orders to establish an infirmary at Nynabo, and Clara is to run the school. While I would prefer to have a man of your experience along, I will do so with or without your help.”

William sat on the front porch rocker after the women retired for the evening and wished the inky darkness would simply swallow him whole. What was he to do with this impossible woman? Nothing he said dissuaded her. And to make matters worse, she was right. Her orders gave her all the permission she needed to proceed without him. It would be a total disaster and she would undoubtedly get both herself and her companion killed. Or worse. The only mission posts run by women tended to be on the coast where help was more readily available. Even government troops hesitated to travel the interior, a fact he’d ignored when he’d taken Alice to the bush.

His sweet Alice. She’d wanted nothing more than to please him when he’d told her he felt the call to salvage the mission where his uncle and aunt had been martyred. She’d trusted him. He’d let both her and God down. The year of compassionate leave helped, but what he really needed was to put his hand back to the proverbial plow once again. But not while responsible for not one but two women this time.

Panic at the very thought brought William to his knees, using the railing as if it was a makeshift altar.

Father, why have you sent me this woman? Have I incurred your displeasure that my task would be made so impossible? Please, God. Turn her heart. Show her the error of this decision or show me what I must do to end this foolishness.

“Am I interrupting?” Karl’s voice jolted William from his silent pleas. Karl stood in front of him with a kerosene lamp.

“No. I was just finished.”

“This is one of my favorite places to pray.” Karl settled himself in one of rockers he’d made with his own hands as a gift last year to his wife. “I can see you are struggling with the direction things have taken, William. It is good that you are taking this to the Father.”

“I don’t know what else to do, Karl. There is simply no dissuading her. Even in this short time I realize she has to be the most stubborn female I have ever met.” William returned to the rocker next to Karl’s. The lamp Karl set on the floor cast the older pastor in an eerie light.

“She reminds me of a stubborn young missionary I know.”

Was that a trick of the shadows or did Karl have a twinkle in his eye? He wasn’t seeing the seriousness of this situation. “Is it merely stubbornness on her part? How many funerals of fellow missionaries have you presided over, Karl? It is one thing for a man to choose the risk on his own, but a woman in the interior?”

“My Hannah would tell you that God calls us all alike, Jew and Greek, male and female.”

“God also expects us to learn from our mistakes. I understand now what my uncle must have known before he and Aunt Ruth were killed.”

“I’m sure that he and your aunt knew the peace of God over all else, my son.”

“But next to God, he loved my Aunt Ruth more than life itself. Surely he knew in those last moments that taking her to tribes that cannibalize their enemies was a mistake. He must have regretted being responsible for her horrible death.”

“You mean like you feel responsible for Alice’s?”

“Exactly. I should have learned from my uncle’s failure, but I didn’t. And my ignorance cost Alice her life.”

“Malaria cost Alice her life, William, and your aunt and uncle were in God’s hands.” Karl stood and picked up his lantern. “You’re letting your grief blind you to God’s bigger plan. You need to trust that He is in control, that He is sovereign in all things.”

“I trust God. It is this place I do not trust. You can’t tell me it is the Divine plan for the women we are charged to protect to be put in such needless danger when we can avoid it.”

“No, I can’t tell you. It’s up to God to show you His plan.” Karl moved to the front door. “I’ll pray earnestly for you, William, that God will reveal His plan in due time.”

“Thank you, Karl. I covet your prayers.”

The illumination receded with Karl as William sat alone in the darkness. A thousand lights burned their autumn patterns in the sky above him, but it was the light of an idea beginning to burn in his mind that captured his attention. He would go to Nynabo, no matter what. He could see to it that neither woman was exposed to the dangers of the interior any more than necessary. Especially not the cannibalistic tribes of the Pahn.

And he would die trying if that’s what God’s plan required.

William rose and headed into the house to find stationery. He might not be able to stop them from going to Nynabo, but a letter to the Mission Board would shorten their stay there. Once he explained his dissatisfaction with Dr. O’Hara and her unsuitability for the post, the Board would have to act and both women would be sent packing for safer quarters. God’s work would continue and he’d avoid ventures into the more dangerous territories until her replacement arrived.

He couldn’t give his Alice the long life she’d deserved, but he’d do everything in his power to see the women temporarily in his care didn’t meet the same end. Dr. O’Hara would live to use her talents for God some place safer. Some place far more suitable.

Chapter Two

Mary slapped at the millionth mosquito trying to make her a meal. Futile, but instinctive. Ten hours into the journey to Nynabo should have taught her that swatting was a waste of energy. Clara was smarter. She had stayed in the hammock chair and draped netting to keep the pests away. Mary, on the other hand, just had to prove she was capable of walking on her own.

The waning light through the heavy jungle canopy told her evening was near. Night’s fall brought a sudden inky blackness that only campfires relieved. So surely William would call camp sometime soon. No, not William, she corrected herself. Pastor Mayweather. It wouldn’t do to think of him in anything but the most formal of terms. The man acted as if she were his own personal trial.

Mary’s foot hit a root and the jungle floor came rushing toward her. She threw out her hands to break her fall just as strong arms grabbed her from behind and righted her. Mary turned and found herself face to chest with the object of her ruminations. How had he moved up so far in the single-file line of the caravan without her knowing? She’d thought he was still at the back trying to encourage some of the stragglers.

“Careful. Are you all right, Doctor?”

“I’m tired and I stumbled, that’s all. Thank you for coming to my aid.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get back in the hammock chair?”

Mary bristled like a cat stroked the wrong way. “Most assuredly. My poor porters are obviously exhausted from the day’s trek and I’m perfectly capable of walking.”

“It was never my plan to carry two women into the bush. The two days of preparation after your arrival was not enough time to engage additional bearers if we were going to get to Nynabo and complete repairs before the rainy season begins.”

Now she’d gone and offended him. She turned and walked forward down the trail, as much to avoid unintentional conflict as not to halt the progress of the porters behind them.

“We’ll be stopping at the next clearing.”

“For the night, Pastor Mayweather, or is it another rest break?”

“For the night.”

Silence fell, and Mary decided that even if she had been inclined to speak further, the trail itself was a barrier to companionable conversation. She’d wondered on the trek to Newaka why the trail wasn’t widened to make travel easier. Watching the men with machetes where the jungle encroached had answered that question. The amount of time needed to deal with even small patches of overgrowth was astounding. The arduous trail from coastal Garraway to Newaka was an after-dinner stroll in the garden compared to this route from Newaka to Nynabo.

When she rounded the next bend, the path appeared to broaden. Thank goodness. At least she could walk beside Clara’s hammock chair and pass the time amiably.

But no. They were stopping. The porters ahead of her were already disgorging their packs and scurrying around to make camp. Pastor Mayweather moved past her, and Mary turned and waited for Clara’s hammock-chair carriers to catch up.

Mary gave Clara a hand alighting. Clara glanced around and wondered aloud, “Where are we supposed to sleep? This space isn’t enough for all of our tents.”

“It does appear small. Still, I am ready to stop. This trek reminds me too much of those eighteen-hour shifts in the field hospital with no end in sight.”

Pastor Mayweather’s voice thundered an interruption in the small clearing. “Hannabo.” The porter in charge jerked up his head in response and stepped closer to the pastor.

The two huddled in conversation and then Hannabo barked out directions Mary couldn’t understand. Order began to fight its way out of chaos. Porters arranged packs around the outside ring of the camp as large stones were placed in the middle of the clearing, edging a small stack of firewood. A three-legged iron pot found its home on the stones and Mary’s stomach began to rumble.

Food! Oh, thank goodness. The afternoon’s repast of fresh bread and fruit Hannah had packed for them was long since a distant memory in their travel day.

A porter brought her the night’s bedding and then repeated the gesture for Clara. Clara stopped the retreating figure and asked, “Where is our tent?”

A simple shoulder shrug was the answer.

“Mary, are we expected to sleep out in the open with all these men?”

“It is beginning to look that way. Wait here. I’ll have a word with Pastor Mayweather and get this situation remedied.”

Mary laid her bedding on top of her pack and headed across the clearing. Pastor Mayweather had come to a sudden reversal about their assignment to Nynabo. Too sudden. Was depriving them of a normal amount of privacy part of a campaign to get rid of them or just an oversight? She intended to find out.

Nothing Pastor Mayweather could dream up could compare to the ingenuity of a professor in medical school unhappy with the enrollment of a female student. If the good pastor thought he could embarrass her and force her to leave, he was in for a rude awakening.

William saw his mistake. The clearing was too small to support their tents, but the sun was almost down and there was no time to move on. He’d called another porter, Jabo, and ordered only the bedding to be unpacked. Objections were swift. No sooner had the porters stacked the ladies’ bedding than Mary crossed the camp with an obvious target in mind.

His ear.

“Pastor Mayweather. Doing without a tent is wholly unacceptable.” The good doctor stood with her hands on her hips a mere two feet from him.

Rivulets of sweat ran down her neck, their origins hidden in her pith helmet. Sparse, dampened red tendrils flirted with his vision, their origins also secreted in the headgear. Little warnings went off in his brain. He should not be focusing on her physical attributes, but her annoyance factor. Instead, his mouth followed its own plan and upturned in a smile.

“Do you find discomfiting us amusing, Pastor Mayweather?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere occupied.”

His excuse sounded weak even to him. To her credit, the woman did not roll her eyes. “Then tell me please, why are we not to have a basic measure of privacy tonight?”

“It is only a matter of space. I cannot in good conscience ask the porters to sleep off the trail to give us more room. Not when they could become dinner for a roaming leopard.”

Mary’s hands left her hips and crossed her chest. This time she did roll her eyes. “Leopards? Am I supposed to believe that? Perhaps I should quake in fear and beg to be returned to Newaka?”

A loud report resounded in the near distance. Hannabo must have gone hunting nearby to add to the supper pot. A quick glance around confirmed he was not present. When William looked back at Mary to answer, he found all the blood had drained from her face and her freckles were the only color that remained.

He grasped her upper arms, concerned she would faint on the spot. “Are you unwell, Dr. O’Hara?”

The delicate doctor’s eyes blinked twice and then seemed to regain focus. “Please unhand me,” she insisted, pulling to free herself. “I’m fine.”

William’s touch fell away as if he had held glowing embers. What was it with this woman and his reaction to her? “Your appearance gave me reason to believe you were about to swoon.”

Sudden shards of crimson heat stained her cheeks. “I assure you, I’m not given to swooning like some ninny in a corset. But back to this leopard you claim will endanger us.”

“Listen to me, please, Dr. O’Hara.” He tried for a rational approach. “Leopards are only one of many dangers out here. I will not erect tents in this small space and force these men to sleep unprotected away from the fire and the watchmen.”

“You are serious?”

“The threat is very real. I would advise you not to wander outside the camp tonight. Now, if there is nothing else?”

“What about our…” She searched for an appropriate term. “Necessities?”

It was William’s turn to blush, and he felt the heat rising up from his collar. “I will make arrangements for a separate privy area. Just do not go without an armed escort.”

“Thank you.” Mary headed back to her friend.

Lord, if I had to be saddled with members of the fairer sex, why couldn’t they both be sturdy, easygoing women like Clara?

That woman was a salt-of-the-earth type who didn’t stir feelings that he’d thought were buried with Alice. He wasn’t sure which was the bigger danger on the trail right now. A hungry leopard on the prowl or the small-boned little redhead in men’s trousers marching away from him.

William turned his thoughts back to camp chores and making sure all was secure. Hannabo had returned with his catch dangling over his shoulder.

“I see you have had good hunting.”

Hannabo grinned. “Yes, Nana Pastor, I got a fine monkey. We eat soon.”

“Good. If you need me for anything, just call out. I’ll prepare the evening devotions while the light is still good.”

Hannabo nodded his agreement and headed off to skin and prepare the main addition to the meal.

William was deep in the Word when Hannabo appeared again at his side. From the sun’s position, he’d studied for almost an hour. A blessed hour of no interruptions from anyone, especially the women.

“Nana Pastor, the meal is ready. Would you and the mammies like to eat now?”

“Thank you, Hannabo. I will gather the ladies so we can bless the meal.”

William pulled his tin bowl and spoon out of his pack and headed toward the women. “Ladies, the evening meal is ready.”

“Thank the Lord,” Clara intoned. “I am starving.”

Mary nodded agreement and rummaged through her pack for utensils.

When all were gathered round the three-legged cook pot, William gave the signal to Hannabo and bowed his head to pray. “Dear Heavenly Father,” William paused at short intervals for Hannabo’s translation. “We thank you for this safe day’s journey…and the food we are about to consume. Be with us tonight as we sleep…and may we, through Your Divine Providence, arrive safely in Nynabo.”

Once Hannabo finished translating, William held out his hand to indicate the ladies should be served first. William followed next and sat on the ground a slight distance from Mary and Clara after he was served.

He wondered how long it would take before the realities of meals outside of Newaka became apparent and the complaints began. If his experience with his wife Alice was any indication, it would be soon.

It was Clara who broke the silence first. “What is this meat in the rice? It tastes like pork.”