An Open Heart (32 page)

Lisa leaned forward. “In spite of knowing the gospel, many Christians struggle with guilt.”

Heather stared out the front window at the busy street. “It’s weird. Jace and I were both from missionary families, so I always assumed that Jace was a true believer. He was always quiet about his faith. He went with me to church, but he never talked about it. Then, after his accident, he started talking about needing to go back to Africa, and I thought it was just a crazy idea, but then he up and resigned his practice and expected me to jump on board.”

“But you didn’t see it his way?”

“He said he thought his sister would have wanted him to come. He claims he saw a vision of her on the night of his accident. He said he saw her face, asking him to ‘come back to me.’” Heather shrugged. “He couldn’t articulate it, but I think he felt so guilty about having an affair that he ran off to Africa for penance.”

“So you believe the rumors?”

“I’m not sure what to believe.” Heather sipped her tea and told Lisa the whole story, beginning with Jace’s accident and including the findings of Anita Franks’s autopsy.

“Steve Brady mentioned that.” She paused. “So Jace doesn’t remember anything?”

“Jace and I were out to see a movie that night. I know we didn’t get out until at least 10:45. But that doesn’t jive with what the manager of the Jefferson Hotel told Ryan Meadows. Ryan reports that the manager took notes to document the evening after the accident, in case the police questioned him. He claims that he escorted Jace to Mrs. Franks’s suite shortly after ten.”

Lisa raised her overly plucked eyebrows and wrote something on a notepad. “What is Jace’s blood type?”

Heather shook her head. “Not a clue. Why?”

“I’ve learned a little bit following the crime beat in this town. If the autopsy had a semen sample, it could be easier to rule Jace in or at least out by analyzing it. You see, eighty percent of males are secretors. That means they secrete their blood-type antigens in their body fluids, including semen. If the semen sample has blood antigens that don’t match Jace, it could get him off the hook.”

“But if they match Jace …”

“Well, it doesn’t prove it’s him. But a DNA study would be conclusive.”

“I asked Gabby Dawson, his pump tech, to bring me some of Jace’s blood.”

“It wouldn’t even take blood. It could be a cigarette butt or a glass that he used, anything with DNA.”

Heather sighed. “I’m not sure she’ll do it. She’s very loyal to Jace and doubts he is guilty of adultery.”

“But you’re not so sure.”

Heather shifted in her seat. “You’ve seen pictures of Anita Franks. She was gorgeous. And you know my husband. I think Anita could have seduced him.”

“So what’s with the ketamine?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think my husband was capable of rape. Falling for a beautiful blonde, maybe, but not rape.”

“So you want his blood to prove …”

“I want to prove he’s innocent.”

“But you’re scared.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Heather felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m not sure of anything anymore. I used to think I married a reliable Christian man. Now I’m not sure who I married.”

Lisa reached over and squeezed Heather’s arm. “Let me do some snooping. I’ll see if I can get more information out of the ME’s office about that sample. In the meantime, see if you can find out Jace’s blood type.”

“The medical examiner won’t give out information on Anita to anyone except next of kin.”

“I have a friend or two who owe me favors. Let me see what I can do.”

When Jace walked home, he was escorted by two security officers. Near his house, two baboons ran from the corner of the small carport back toward a trash pit where they joined another pair looking for food. Overhead, the leaves of the eucalyptus trees clapped with the breeze, a constant in Kijabe.

Just as he was unlocking the door, he heard the crunch of gravel and the familiar clicking drone of a diesel engine. He looked to see the Toyota Land Cruiser used by the minister of health.

Samuel, the driver, did not smile, but exited quickly to open the passenger door.

John Okombo stepped out into the afternoon sun, looking even more massive than when Jace had met him face-to-face in his office.

Jace’s gut tightened. He whispered to the hospital security, “Stay close.” Then louder, he said, “Minister Okombo, I didn’t expect to see you.”

The MP held out his hand and engulfed Jace’s. “I wanted to check on your safety.”

“You didn’t need to come all this way for me.”

Minister Okombo smiled. “I wanted to see you. You didn’t call after you failed to keep my invitation.”

Jace opened his front door. “Will you come in? I should explain.”

The tall man nodded. “Perhaps you should.”

They entered the small kitchen. Minister Okombo’s driver stayed outside with the hospital security guards.

Jace motioned toward a small couch and selected a chair for himself. “It became pretty obvious that someone was coming after me. What I didn’t know is who I could trust.”

“So you suspected my driver?”

Jace shifted uncomfortably.

“And you suspected me?”

Jace swallowed.

The large man laughed. Loudly, he slapped his knee. “Of
course
you didn’t know who you could trust!”

Jace nodded and forced a smile.

Okombo leaned forward. “When the police informed me of the plot on your life, I assured them that my office would cooperate with an investigation.” He paused. “And I have asked the police to provide additional security measures for your protection.”

“Unfortunately, the security measures are disrupting the flow of visitors, and hospital security is already stretched thin.”

“My concern is for your safety. And I will send extra help from the Kenya police to speed security screening.”

Jace shook his head. “If you want this heart program to succeed, you will have to make this all go away.”

“Of course I want the program to succeed.”

“I’m not a very popular man around here just now. It seems like my efforts are just making problems. Honestly, I’m not sure the system can support it.”

“You saved my daughter.”

Jace nodded. “Yes.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’d prefer a low profile. I won’t hold you responsible. Please don’t make my life harder by tightening security.”

The man shrugged. “As you wish.” He lifted his cell phone. “But I will insist on personal guards here. We want to watch your house at night.”

Jace sighed. “Fine.”

Minister Okombo folded his hands. “Don’t forget who your friends are, Dr. Rawlings.” The man stood, towering for a moment above Jace. “I’ll have my men in place before night. They will report directly to me.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I am the minister of health. I am only looking out for one of my own.”

Jace didn’t like it. He wasn’t sure Okombo could be trusted, but he couldn’t exactly voice his concerns. Instead, he just mumbled “Thank you” and followed him to the door.

As Okombo reached the Land Cruiser, Jace stepped up beside him and spoke quietly. “Would you like to visit Beatrice?”

The man looked away, his face sober. After a moment’s reflection, he turned back and nodded. “Okay.”

Jace smiled. “Let’s go. I’ll take you there.” He motioned for the hospital security. “We’re going down to the hospital for a few minutes.”

As they approached the pull-down bar at the entrance to the parking lot, a hospital security guard held up his hand. “Hi, Dr. Rawlings.” Then, he looked at Minister Okombo. “Sir, I’ll need to see some identification. We’re restricting access to patients and patients’ family members only.”

Minister Okombo didn’t smile. He moved closer to the man and spoke in a quiet voice. “I am John Okombo, the minister of health. It was my department that requested this additional security.” He made a move to step around the bar.

“I’ll still need to see an ID.”

Jace shook his head. Maybe this was good. Okombo might be frustrated enough to stop all the bother.

The MP huffed and pulled out his wallet. “Here,” he said, shoving a card under the man’s nose.

The security official waved them through. Okombo flipped open his phone. In a moment, he spoke loudly. “Captain, I want you to tell your men to notify Kijabe Hospital of a relaxation of our previous request. Remove the visitation restriction. But leave two men to guard Dr. Rawlings’s house. I want them in place by dark.”

He closed his phone.

“Thank you, sir,” Jace said. He lifted his hand and ushered Minister Okombo through a crowd near the entrance. “This way.”

As they walked up the long hallway toward the HDU, Jace closed his eyes for a moment. There was no other smell like the hospital—too many bodies in one place, clinical aseptics, and floor wax seemed to permeate every inch. The surgeon looked at his guest. The MP didn’t seem to mind. Probably every hospital in Kenya that he’d visited smelled this way.

Jace pushed open the door to the HDU. “This is our high dependency unit,” he said. “We have the latest vital-sign monitors, continuous oxygen saturation monitoring, and a very favorable nurse-to-patient ratio.”

He waved his hand from left to right. “We have six beds here.” He sighed. “If our program takes off, we could easily use three times that amount.”

The MP smiled. Jace introduced him to the three nurses in the unit. Okombo made a joke. “Why are all the nurses Kikuyu? We need some good Luo nurses here.”

He then walked to the bedside of Beatrice Wanjiku. “Now this one has a Kikuyu name, but she looks like a Luo!” He looked at Beatrice. “Hello, Beatrice. Congratulations on your surgery. Dr. Rawlings has told me that it was a ringing success.” He paused. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am John Okombo, Kenya’s minister of health.”

Beatrice remained sober. “I know who you are.”

“You’ve read the papers.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“How do you feel?”

“Nzuri.” Fine.

“Then you will be going home soon?”

Beatrice looked at Dr. Rawlings. “Let me stay. I don’t want to go back to Kibera.”

Jace forced a smile. “We’ll see. I want you to stay here for a bit longer.”

They chatted for a few minutes as Minister Okombo shuffled around her bed, unable to be still. They talked of schoolwork and of Beatrice’s hopes to make good grades. When it was apparent that they had little more to say and the MP was about to leave, Beatrice asked, “Why did you come here?”

He smiled. “I wanted to see you.”

“Then it
is
true.”

“What is that, Beatrice?”

“You are my father.”

Okombo jerked upright and looked around to see if the nurses were listening.

They were.

“What would make you say such a thing?” he gasped.

Beatrice shrugged. “An angel told me.”

35

The following night, Jace looked out the front window to see that his police guards had settled in for the night, one leaning against a tree, the other resting against a small shed on the other side of the carport.

He looked up at the full moon and allowed it to take him back to that camping trip just before his graduation from RVA. He remembered sitting with his friends around a campfire, stirring a long stick in the coals, occasionally taking it out to allow the smoke to curl toward the moon. He and his friends talked of their future, college plans, America … and God.

They talked of a desire not to be absorbed into the emptiness of the American dream, of their ability to make a difference, of a calling to be light and salt for the One who loved them.

Jace looked at the moon and remembered the emptiness he felt then, and how it mirrored his feelings now.

They speak with such confidence of God’s love,
he’d thought back then,
and His calling on their lives. Why don’t I feel the same?

Will I always feel like I am looking in from the outside?

Will I ever believe?

Will I ever feel the call of the chosen?

Jace, too, looked forward to going to America, but for different reasons. He wanted to escape the bubble, the exclusion of other faiths, the restriction of so many rules.

He’d been excellent at compliance. He knew how to look good. But inside, Jace felt unchanged and unredeemed.

When Janice talked with passion about being loved, Jace felt curiously neutral.

When Janice whispered “grace,” as if it was the most precious concept in the universe, Jace was unmoved.

Grace. Yawn.
Yes, I’ve sung the song. But if it is wonderful and amazing, why doesn’t it move my heart? I must be Esau.

Jace listened as his classmates sang songs of unending love. But for Jace, their words were soon melted in the vastness of the African sky. The moon beckoned. He stood and slipped away from the fire, preferring the solitude of the wilderness.

He walked a hundred meters into the bush, stopping to lean against a tree. In the background, he could hear the mix of his friends’ worship and the cicadas. As he looked at the sky, the expanse seemed to echo from within his own emptiness.