Journey of Hope

“But eight years is a long time to wait when you’re in need now. Maybe like my father did, they’ll come around eventually. If you do end up having to return home, surely the time apart will have softened their hearts.”

Anna shuddered, remembering. “You don’t know my parents.” She reached out and gripped Dr. Mary’s arm. “And other than my facility with languages, I have no useful skills for employment. Returning home is one problem, but I have to get back to the Pahn. How can I live with myself if I can’t get the tuition to send Taba to the boarding school at Newaka? I promised him. You know what will happen to a twelve-year-old convert if I can’t get him out of the clutches of the devilmen. Once they get him into the sequestered Poro school...”

Dr. Mary paled. “He won’t be coming back out.”

Anna looked at Dr. Mary, waiting for some answer. After a moment Dr. Mary spoke in a low, serious tone. “I can’t tell you what God is going to do in your life or Taba’s right now. I can only remind you of how seconds before the Pahn chief was about to succeed in his plan to kill me, God proved He does work all things to the good. Whatever happens, don’t forget that fact. William and I are living testaments to God’s sovereignty in all things.”

Anna was humbled remembering the story of how Dr. Mary and her husband, Pastor William Mayweather, had narrowly avoided death at the hands of the cannibal tribe. “I believe, but I counted on Bishop Michaels to advance Taba’s tuition money. Before the board’s overhaul of financial policies, my request would have been no problem. Bishop Michaels is clearly sympathetic, but the new rules leave no room for any debt. He’s done what he can so I can return to the village temporarily and try to secure Taba’s safety.”

“Anna, does Taba’s family hold any status or wealth in the village?”

“No, which is why I was counting on my funds to help with tuition. I already made arrangements with Karl and Hannah Jansen when I passed through Newaka. They promised to keep him for two years if I can come up with the money for one.”

Dr. Mary absently rubbed her swollen belly. “The Jansens would be ideal, but even they can only stretch their sterling so far. Why not send Taba to Nynabo with us? We can manage.”

“You’re too close. Nana Mala proved that when he stormed your compound with armed warriors. The devilmen have enough reach that Taba wouldn’t be safe if he stayed with you.”

“Point taken. What about asking Bishop Michaels to let you use your return-ticket funds while you seek other means of support?”

Anna shook her head and the room spun. “No. You know the rules—no service under the Mission Board’s policies unless your return fare is banked against the day you leave the mission field.”

Dr. Mary stood. “Continue to pray, Anna. God has a plan for this boy’s life and yours. Sometimes God provides in ways we don’t expect. Look at last night. God provided a rescuer when you needed one.” She grinned at Anna. “A tall, strong one at that.”

Anna felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Dr. Mary!”

“What? I still have high hopes for you to find a fellow laborer in the mission field.”

“And you think you’ll help me find one by trying to play matchmaker with a total stranger? You don’t give up, do you? Not everyone can find a man like your William. Finding a husband isn’t a priority for me, and I don’t think our Heavenly Father would send me a mate by way of a robbery attempt.” She snorted. “Sounds like one of my father’s poorly thought-out schemes. Never mind the consequences to me, because the end of things always justified the cost, especially since he wasn’t the one paying it.”

Dr. Mary took her medical bag from the nightstand. “I guess it is a little far-fetched. God often requires sacrifice of us, but He has our best interests at heart. Pray and ask what He would have you do. Three days of bed rest should give you ample time to come to a conclusion.”

With no extra funds, missing the ship would curtail most of Anna’s options. She had to be on the SS Boma when it left in the morning. She hadn’t been this desperate since she’d escaped to the ship that carried her to Liberia, thwarting her parents’ plans to marry her off to the odious Dr. Reginald Hightower. Even without God’s call to the mission field, she couldn’t have married a man who’d made it clear that her “excess” of religion was unacceptable in his social circles.

God had provided a means for her then, so she had to believe that He would supply the means for Taba’s safety now. She respected Dr. Mary, but she would be on that ship.

As if she’d read her thoughts, Dr. Mary added, “Anna, I see that look. I’ll go to the bishop if necessary. Don’t you even think about sailing tomorrow. Missionaries who live long enough to serve past their first bout of malaria are too scarce here. He may have just arrived in Liberia, but even the bishop knows not to take chances with your health.”

Anna weighed her options. The bishop could prevent her from ever returning to the Pahn if he so chose. She’d have to get him on her side before staging a rebellion against Dr. Mary’s orders. “Fine, I’ll stay abed.”

“Three days, Anna.”

Dr. Mary knew her too well. Anna couldn’t promise that so she changed the subject. “You know, being a doctor doesn’t make you right about everything. Take matchmaking, for example. I still can’t believe you’d even suggest that being rescued by a blue-eyed, blond, Viking-like warrior type is a basis for an enduring, godly marriage.”

Dr. Mary laughed. “Blue eyes, huh? So you did notice him before he left.”

Anna’s cheeks heated to an alarming degree. A thundering rap on the bedroom door saved her from any reply.

Dr. Mary opened the door. “Just a moment, Bishop.”

Anna reached for the wrapper at the foot of her bed. Dr. Mary admitted a concerned-looking Bishop Michaels, the fringe of white hair on his head standing straight out all around like a demented halo.

Anna fanned her cheeks and forced her facial muscles into a pleasant smile. The bishop. If she couldn’t have his blessing to get on the ship tomorrow, how was she going to tell him she now needed more money just to return to an unfunded posting? This might be the proverbial last straw. She was at a loss as to how to spin it into gold.

Dr. Mary said, “Anna, I’ll send Momma Elliott right up with some nice broth. Send word if you need me again. Bishop, I’ll see you at meeting tonight.” She left the door open.

The bishop stood, hat in hand, sincerity to the forefront. “My dear Miss Baldwin. I have been ever so worried about you and not ceased to pray since I heard the terrible news. We all have. Are you all right? Have they caught your attackers?”

“No, the magistrates have no word about the two men. They left an hour ago with promises to keep looking. But I’m fine, Bishop. Only frustrated to be idle when so little time remains to me in Liberia.”

The bishop’s cheery countenance brightened further. “And yet, even in this trying situation, God has made a way. I have found the answer to all your problems, and he’s waiting in the hallway.” He stepped outside the room.

Anna’s nerves sounded an alarm. The answer to all her problems? Her father’s favorite phrase, the one that always preceded disaster in her life, now straight from the lips of Bishop Michaels. She shuddered and fought against the memories. No, this is not my father, but my spiritual authority. The bishop, a man who steeps his life in prayer and seeks God’s Will. Wait, did the bishop say “he”?

Two decidedly male voices in the hall, one the bishop’s. The sound of the other scratched at her memory. Finally the bishop walked back in, followed by a familiar-looking man, cap in hand, who ducked his blond head to step through the doorway. His crisp, white, high-collared shirt, jodhpurs and polished boots presented a striking picture. When his chin lifted as he cleared the doorway, she caught sight of his squared-off jaw and a patrician nose that didn’t quite follow its original lines. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. “Oh, it’s you! I never got the chance to thank you last night. You saved me from those men. Thank you.”

He grinned and humor sparked in his memorable blue eyes. “You were doing a pretty good job of fighting them off when I showed up. I think you’d have had them if it weren’t for the chloroform.” Her rescuer looked expectantly at the bishop standing next to him.

“Miss Anna Baldwin,” the bishop said, “let me formally introduce you to Mr. Stewart Hastings, a mining engineer with the American Mining Corporation. He and I just finished a long talk in the parlor. I believe it was God’s providence Mr. Hastings came along when he did. Had he not come to Monrovia on his current assignment...well, I shudder to think what would have happened to you last night.”

Her rescuer brushed off the compliment. “You give me too much credit, sir. Momma Elliott actually scared the miscreants off. I just held them at bay till she came on the scene.”

Was that a wink?

The bishop shook his head. “You’re too modest, sir.” He turned to address Anna. “Now that we’re all acquainted, we can get on with the plan.” The bishop rocked onto the balls of his feet, eager to impart his idea.

Anna asked. “The plan?”

“Yes, my dear. I found a way to solve all our problems. Rather, I should say God has provided.”

There was that phrase again. Tacking on that it was God’s provision still left her uneasy. And Mr. Hastings studiously looking everywhere but at her?

The bishop’s eyes twinkled. “I haven’t told Mr. Hastings, but while hearing his tale, the solution for both of you became obvious. It’s clear you two are a match made in Heaven.”

Anna almost came out of her sickbed. Was everyone in creation trying to marry her off?

* * *

Shock rendered Stewart mute. Had the kindly bishop been out in the brutal Liberian sun too long? Except it was only midmorning. By the look on Anna’s face, she harbored similar questions.

Bishop Michaels prattled on. “Mr. Hastings saved you, Miss Baldwin, and now you can save each other.”

Stewart ground his teeth to hold back a rebuttal. Was this some evangelical approach to win his soul? If so, the bishop had another think coming. God already had ample opportunity to show up in the trenches of the Great War.

Stewart found his voice. “Sir, even if I were a praying man, which I’m not, I’m not sure I would understand the course of this conversation.”

The bishop gave him a patient look. “Didn’t you just explain to me in the parlor how you exhausted your other possibilities and were in need of a guide to the interior while you explore for mineral deposits? In the Pahn territory and surrounding area? I believe you named a generous figure for the service you need.”

“I did, but...”

The bishop waved his hand. “Miss Baldwin here is in immediate need of an income and you are in need of a guide. Ergo, you two are a match made in Heaven.”

Stewart caught sight of Anna’s eyes widening in shock and disbelief. They must be mirroring his own. He hadn’t taken Bishop Michaels for an escapee from Bedlam when they’d first met. A match made in Heaven? “Bishop Michaels, Miss Baldwin told me last night that she works with the Pahn. But, with no offense intended to her, I need a guide, not a wife.”

The choking sounds coming from Miss Baldwin were alarming. Both men looked at her with concern. The bishop asked her, “Are you all right, my dear? Do you need water?”

She shook her head violently and managed to croak a response. “Not even to save my place here in Africa would I—”

The bishop broke in. “No, no. You both mistake me.” He turned back to Stewart. “I’m proposing a business agreement, one that will effectively save Miss Baldwin from having to make an untimely return home to Connecticut from the mission field.

“With the budget you mentioned, she can take you to the village and secure a relationship for you with the chief. Then she can afford to stay among the Pahn people another three months while she searches for longer-term funding. Along with the government permission your company already obtained for exploration, you, in turn, will have one of the only outsiders acceptable to the chief to vouch for you and your mining enterprise. God has provided for your needs, too.”

Anna protested, “Bishop, with all respect, Nana Mala is one of the most warlike and unpredictable chiefs in the interior. Government permission will only provoke him. We might lose any further chance to win souls in this village over mixing man’s business with God’s, especially since Mr. Hastings has already proclaimed himself an unbeliever. I cannot see... Oh, Mr. Hastings, I meant no slight.”

“None taken.” Being categorized as an unbeliever might be awkward in her view, but not in his. At least she had the sense to see how unworkable this plan really was, even if her reasons were different from his. He’d thought he was coming to discuss a guide, not hire Miss Baldwin.

The bishop’s jovial tone sobered. “Sometimes we need others, my dear, to see what’s best for us. I believe this situation will serve the Gospel by keeping one of my most fervent missionaries in a tribe that, if reached for Christ, could turn the tide in many surrounding villages. I’m sure you can manage the distinction between business needs and the Gospel.” He gave a fatherly smile. “Unless, of course, you have another financial solution, one God revealed since our conversation last night?”

She didn’t say anything at first, but Stewart could see the gears of thought turning. She nodded.

Was she really considering this? Was it money that swayed her? As for the bishop, had he lost his mind? But manners dictated Stewart not declare the sentiment aloud. “Bishop Michaels, I cannot see how your suggestion could possibly work. Look at her.” Stewart pointed. “She’s clearly incapacitated. I only wanted information on finding a guide. The last thing I need is a female missionary slowing me down on the trail.”

Anna glared. For a missionary she sure could give a look that would peel paint off a battleship.

Stewart ignored her and continued, “Besides, she’s an unmarried woman. Even if I had no objection, you can’t tell me you missionaries would send the two of us into the jungle alone.”

The bishop was not dissuaded. “Of course not. She’ll need someone to travel with her on board ship for her recovery and the proprieties of ship life. I met the perfect candidate last night at a late supper hosted in my honor. She and her husband are returning to their coffee plantation outside of Harper. Then, once in the jungle, you’ll be surrounded by your caravan. Last night’s incident notwithstanding, most Liberian men are quite protective of missionary women, as those who have served alone have found in the past. I think you’ll see that the caravan itself is more than sufficient as a chaperone.”

Every obstacle Stewart could think to raise was steamrollered flat by the bishop’s growing enthusiasm. He continued unhampered, “Besides, Mr. Hastings, even I know that being guided into the area isn’t enough. Not if you want to come back safely. You need Miss Baldwin.”

If he wanted to come back safely? He’d survived the Germans. Miss Baldwin had barely survived Monrovia. How could the bishop even suggest...?

The bishop must have taken Stewart’s silent ruminations for acceptance. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to secure this companion for Miss Baldwin in the little time left before you two depart. Sir, if you will deposit half the funds with the Mission Board’s secretary, then you can make the rest of your arrangements directly with Miss Baldwin for the balance upon completion.”

For such a well-rounded man, the bishop was quick on his feet. Stewart stared at the now-empty doorway. What had just happened? He’d been waltzed right into another situation where a beautiful woman would be making arrangements for his life. He had a deadline; dragging a woman along through the jungle would only slow him down. No, if he was to fail, he’d rather it be on his own terms and not the result of a woman’s whims, as before, or her innate physical frailties.

“I’m sorry, Miss Baldwin, but despite what the bishop thinks, there is no way this arrangement will work. Nothing personal, but I simply wanted the name of a guide and felt sure you could steer me to one, since you must use one yourself. I’m in haste and can’t possibly consider taking the extra time that bringing a woman along would entail, no matter how valuable the bishop believes your contribution would be. If you could see fit to give me the name of someone willing to go there, I will send a letter of explanation to the bishop later today and be on my way.”

Her answer was delayed by the arrival of Momma Elliott with the promised bowl of broth. She placed it at the bedside and went to sit in a corner rocker. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just wait over here so the two of you can finish your conversation.”

Anna smiled at Momma Elliott, and then her voice, both gentle and authoritative, insisted, “Mr. Hastings, I’m afraid you do not understand the gravity of the situation, especially where the chief’s reaction to you being in his territory is concerned. The danger is greater than you realize.”

The sincerity of her tone carried through. She believed him to be in danger.

“I served in the trenches of the Great War. I feel confident I can handle the danger of jungle travel. The government has offered the territory’s mineral rights for sale. Certainly we wish to have good local relations, but ultimately the chief has no authority over these plans.” He softened his tone. “I do not wish to disappoint you, Miss Baldwin. I understand how much you need the money, so if you could just direct me to one of the guides you missionaries use, I’d be willing to pay you for the information.” He hated the distress shadowing those lovely brown eyes, but there was nothing else he could do for her.

Her pale cheeks flushed at the implication. Delicate hands punctuated her frustration as she spoke. “Yes, I need the money, but that’s not why I cannot let you go in there without me. Since the recent attempts of government troops to implement the infamous Hut Tax, Nana Mala views all outsiders with suspicion of working on the government’s behalf. He will not welcome you, even if you could find another guide. Which, by the way, you won’t.”

He got it. She wasn’t sharing her guides. “I appreciate the warning.” He turned to follow the bishop’s path out the door. Now what? He had no one else to interview. Should he board the ship and hope to find one farther down the coast? Every step toward the doorway felt like one step closer to failure, and failure, where his mother’s future was concerned, wasn’t an option.

Her soft voice stopped him. “Apparently my warning wasn’t strong enough. For your own sake...”

“Dear lady, I don’t wish my continued refusal of your services to humiliate you. I am sorry for your situation. I’m also well acquainted with desperation born of financial need. I would help you if I could. However, if you aren’t willing to share the names of your resources, I shall simply have to proceed without them. My deadline demands it. But I’m not one to hold a grudge, so I sincerely hope we can both conduct a civil relationship together once you reach the village after me.”

She expelled a deep breath. “Of course, Mr. Hastings. In fact, I’m quite certain civility will not be an issue between us.”

“Good.” He tipped his head and smiled at her agreement. “Then I’ll see you in the village when you arrive.” He nodded to Momma Elliott, who shook her head with ill-concealed amusement.

He didn’t clear the door frame before Anna’s words froze his limbs in place. “Probably not, Mr. Hastings. Should you arrive without me to intervene with the chief on your behalf, it’s more than likely that you will be killed on the spot.”

Chapter Two

Stewart leaned against the forward-deck rail and watched as Miss Baldwin’s companion, Mrs. Dowdy, helped her into the deck chair and tucked the blankets around her. Two days out to sea and her color was vastly improved. The multihued scarf around her head, protecting against the ship’s headwind, added appeal to that exotic face.

Not that he was interested. Just a little haunted by the first time he’d gazed into her eyes. Chalk that up to concern for her well-being after saving her. Rescuing her had engendered a protective feeling. He’d shake it off.

Maybe her personal watchdog would leave Anna’s side as she’d done yesterday and give them a chance to talk. After hearing Anna out about the chief’s murderous proclivities, and realizing exactly why he needed her specifically, preparations to make the next morning’s sailing had been his entire focus. He hadn’t counted on Anna’s chaperone circumventing most of his attempts at conversation since they’d boarded. He never should have told Mrs. Dowdy that he wasn’t a churchgoing man when she’d asked, but lying was his father’s style, not his. The price of his honesty included glacial stares and less-than-subtle hints that Mrs. Dowdy found him unworthy to associate with Anna.

Fortunately, Mrs. Dowdy wouldn’t be with them in the jungle. For now he’d have to watch for his moment. A lot of details needed to be worked out, and he had questions about the area and the people. He’d known there were risks. The Pahn tribe had a past reputation as cannibals, but he’d expected that government backing would protect him, or even that the stories had been exaggerated. Obviously there was a lot American Mining hadn’t known when they’d given him this assignment. He couldn’t afford any more surprises.

And there was his opening. Ten minutes after seeing her charge settled, she wandered off to one of the covered decks to play a couple rubbers of bridge. Finally his only firsthand source of information was alone, looking bright-eyed and a little bored.

He headed for the empty chair beside her. Besides information gathering, he hoped to find a way to make his expectations clear. He needed her to facilitate his explorations with the tribes along the way and vouch for him with the Pahn chief. But she must leave the decision making to him, her employer. That much had to be clear first. The last time he’d experienced confusion in the chain of command, men had died in the trenches beside him.

Stewart swerved around a group of passengers starting up a jump-rope game and crossed over to the starboard seating area. Anna glanced up at his approach and then cut her eyes back to the book in her lap. A hint she didn’t feel like socializing? Or just shyness? The irony of hiring a woman he knew so little about to protect him from a cannibal’s wrath struck him hard.

“May we speak, Miss Baldwin?”

She gestured to the adjacent deck chair. “Certainly. Please, have a seat.”

He settled himself in and stretched his long legs out in front, crossing his ankles. “How are you feeling today?”

A little sparkle lit those soft brown eyes. “Better than Mrs. Dowdy would have me believe. I’m afraid Dr. Mayweather’s permission for me to travel came with instructions my companion has interpreted very strictly.”

“In my experience, you can never be too careful with chloroform.” He waved off a steward bringing him a blanket.

“Yes, but who would have thought I would encounter chloroform-wielding bandits in Monrovia? Seems I’m safer in the jungle than on the capital’s streets.”

“I, too, find that odd. I trust the magistrates managed to apprehend the two men and get to the bottom of it?”

She shook her head. “No, but they believe I was targeted because I was thought to be a wealthy American. If they’d known I was a missionary, they probably would have picked a different victim. The magistrate searched, but Gradoo and his cohort were nowhere to be found. The officers that came around seemed happy to hear I was leaving. Either they feared word of what happened getting out, or they believed my departure solved their problem.”

“Until the next woman is their victim.”

“Exactly my concern.”

Perfect opening. He had to get this religious difference out of the way so business could proceed. “I can do nothing for that concern, but perhaps I could alleviate one of your others.”