Diamond Mine (5 page)

Rory parked the jeep and joined the flow of individuals. Outside the gate, he waited patiently, holding a welcome sign. Boards announced flight schedules and rattled as their times changed. A voice announced the arrival of Father Matthew's flight, and he directed his attention forward.

Rory frowned as Father Matthew rolled toward him.

“Good evening,” he said, in a strong sure voice.

“Good evening,” repeated Rory.

“Have you waited long?”

“No.”

“Good. Now we must retrieve my luggage. They were supposed to stow it on the plane and bring it off when I left, but there was a mix up, and it was placed on the luggage truck. You don't mind, do you?”

Rory shrugged as he grasped the wheelchair handles and pushed Brother Matthew toward the luggage carousel.

“So you are the great war hero I've heard so much about.”

“Humph.”

“Father Thomas said you would say that.”

Rory ignored the comment and weaved his way through the dense crowd. He said, “Father Matthew, if you'll tell me which case is yours, I'll get it.”

“That would be the old, beat-up, leather one. I take it on every trip.”

Rory nodded and left him as he shoved through the crowd. Halfway in, he stumbled into an elderly man.

He turned on Rory and drew his brows together. “Watch where you're going.”

“Pardon,” said Rory, between gritted teeth.

The man shook his head in disgust, and Rory restrained his rising temper. Balance regained, he continued.

The mass of bodies produced a cornucopia of smells. Rank body odor, heavy musk, and the faint hint of roses.

The familiar scent wafted over him, and he lifted his head. Ladies surrounded him. One sashayed toward the exit. Long brown hair flowed down her back.

Whisking the bag from the carousel, Rory ran to Father Matthew. He grabbed the wheelchair and shoved.

“Whew! I haven't popped a wheelie in a while. Where's the fire?”

Rory remained silent as he navigated the chair to the waiting jeep. He deposited Father Matthew inside, while secretly looking for the mystery lady.

A cab sped past and he caught a brief glimpse of the passenger.

He leaned against the dusty jeep. The heated metal burned slightly and he moved back. Taking a deep breath, he climbed behind the wheel and asked, “Ready to go?”

Father Matthew nodded.

The jeep glided smoothly along the highway. The yellow cab never drew too far out of his range.

“How do you like living at the monastery?” asked Father Matthew.

“It's not what I expected.”

“And what did you expect? A four star resort?”

“Is that supposed to be a crack about my wealth?”

“Perhaps,” said the Father.

Rory didn't respond as he concentrated. The cab's direction mimicked his own, and he silently rejoiced.

“Forgive me.”

“Excuse me?” asked Rory.

“The crack about your wealth was inappropriate. Father Thomas has shared your contribution amount with me. You have been more than generous.”

Rory turned his head and studied the father.

“Do not be angry with Father Thomas. I pressured him into telling me. It isn't often that a person of your status comes to our humble establishment to work.”

“So you thought I was lying?”

“The thought crossed my mind. But from what I've heard, I was mistaken. You are taking your penance very seriously.”

Rory turned his attention back to the road. He frowned. The cab with the mystery lady was gone.

The man nodded. They pulled out into moving traffic. Along the way, the driver talked non-stop. Hannah leaned her head back against the head rest and closed her eyes. She wasn't a very good tourist. She should be looking around, soaking in the sights and sounds of beautiful South Africa, but instead all she wanted to do was take a nice hot bath and sleep. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before long the noise of the cab driver faded away.

The honking horn and the cab driver's foreign tongue ranting and raving at anything blocking his path startled her. Sitting straighter, she peered at her watch. Almost an hour had passed since they'd left the airport.

Looking around the ancient vehicle for a meter, Hannah cringed. She might be in trouble. The cash she carried was limited. She contemplated the idea that she might have to work off the payment. Disgusting thoughts like cleaning the cab came to mind.

A smile graced her face.
Perhaps the driver
will
take
a
n autographed
copy of
my
first novel
in
lieu
of payment
.

Facing the window, she looked outside. The countryside flashed by in slow motion. The air inside the cab became musty and stifling. Hannah rolled down the window to take a breath of fresh air, but instead her lungs filled with dust.

The cab driver hid a laugh behind his hand and started talking again. Hannah ignored him, took out a pair of well-worn sunglasses, and settled them on the bridge of her nose. “How much farther?”

“Not far, not far,” he replied. A smile split his mouth and showed off pearly white teeth.

Hannah settled back against the seat once more and gathered her purse onto her lap. Discreetly she counted the bills within. Sighing, she realized it had been a mistake not to call Melanie. She'd wanted to surprise her. It would be a surprise, all right.

She would show up on Melanie's doorstep and say, “
Hi, Melanie so happy to see you. Do you have a couple of hundred rand to throw my way so I can pay the cabby and stay out of jail? Okay, thanks.
”

Yeah, that was going to go over real well
.

The home probably employed workers whose only job was to drive to the airport and pick people up.

Leaders from the missionary board frequently visited, bringing potential investors. Melanie once complained this was the only part of her work she detested, putting on a show for the
bigwigs
that came to visit.

Melanie herself came from a wealthy family and was used to entertaining. She'd met Korzan Sekibo while in college. From a wealthy Sudanese family, he'd been sent to the United States to receive an education. Korzan spent hours in the library with his nose buried in one book or another. That was where they'd met. Hannah had heard the story so many times she felt like she'd been there…

A young woman
stood
on a ladder trying to reach an elusive book stowed on the top shelf. Without warning, the ladder folded in upon itself. The lady was in dire need. Korzan leapt from his chair, jumped over tables, people, and any other obstacle in
a
single bound
,
and as Melanie fell from the sky, he caught her. As they
tumbled
to the ground together, in a mass of tangled appendages, they confessed their undying love.

Hannah smiled. Her remembrance of the story was probably more romantic than theirs, but truth was, Melanie had fallen from the ladder, but instead of Korzan catching her in a romantic embrace, she'd actually landed on top of him. He'd spent six weeks in therapy with a broken leg. Melanie had felt so guilty she'd visited him every day. During that time, they'd begun a friendship which had morphed into a shared love.

Melanie's spiritual awareness grew. It was a beautiful progression from Melanie, the roaring socialite, to Melanie, the peaceful lamb.

Korzan proposed and asked Melanie to help him live out his dreams. She readily accepted. But oft times when one gives their life completely to Christ, they leave certain things behind. This instance was no different.

On Melanie's wedding day, she was overjoyed to marry Korzan and embark on a new life. They'd applied to be missionaries in Sudan. Their papers of acceptance had been received and welcomed and they were scheduled to leave one week after the wedding.

Even though the wedding brought joy, it had also brought sorrow. Melanie's parents had not approved. They liked Korzan well enough. They even liked the idea of Melanie growing closer to the Lord. Her father was a deacon. But what they couldn't abide was Melanie donating her ball gowns and fancy attire to an auction for sick children, or Melanie allowing a homeless family to stay in her apartment until they could get on their feet, or leaving her car in the care of an elderly couple who needed transportation.

They liked the words Melanie spoke about putting the Lord first, just not the actual practice of those words.

When Melanie's parents learned of her and Korzan's desire to become missionaries, they'd threatened to disown her. They'd refused to attend the modest wedding Melanie had planned, even going so far as not speaking to their only child.

Hannah offered to talk to them on Melanie's behalf but she had said no. She said her parents knew of the Lord and if she prayed, they would listen and respond.

Melanie had walked herself down the aisle, and as Hannah walked in front of her, she could hear muttered words from the
Footprints
poem.

Korzan and Melanie's romance had been the inspiration behind many of Hannah's novel ideas. From romantic candlelight dinners, to surprise visits while bearing gifts, lots of her story plotting came from their interludes. Fortunately for Hannah, Korzan was a total romantic and wasn't afraid of being watched when his love was expressed. This had allowed her to witness true love in action.

A sigh left Hannah's lips as she gazed out the window. Now if only she had someone to show that same affection toward her. She couldn't keep living in the past. The hero she dreamed of wasn't coming back. Perhaps he'd never been real in the first place. Her mother had said she'd imagined him. No guy was that perfect, she'd said. But Hannah knew her mother was wrong. Rory was perfect. And he was out there. But what did it matter? He was gone to
her
forever.

From sunup to sundown he stumbled around the roots of the tree. Painstakingly, Rory dug. He tried to focus on moving the monstrosity, but his mind wandered.

His earlier trek to the airport brought back memories, and as he edged slowly around a root, he thought about his parents. Both of them were still alive — one living in England, the other in America.

After his parents separated, his paternal grandfather, Gary Chance, had primarily raised him. He'd spent his summers on American soil with his mother, and his holidays with his British father. This was the only time he wasn't jet setting around the country, blowing grandfather Chance's money.

Every moment of every trip could be recalled. His father constantly trying to pass him off on some nursemaid, fights and arguments between his grandfather and father over the holidays because of his father's behavior, finding his father in a drunken stupor.

On the other side of the pond, his mother had fawned and doted on him until he'd been more than a little embarrassed. Guilt and shame over not being with him the rest of the year had caused her to behave this way.

To this day his parents had yet to
officially
divorce. As far as he could tell, they were still faithful to one another, even as they lived an ocean apart. On several occasions, he tried to discover why they maintained this relationship, but neither one of them seemed to know the answer. Or if they did, they weren't telling him.

Stretched to his full height, Rory gulped from a jug and water dribbled down his chin. His shirt was wrapped around his neck, and he used it to dab sweat from his forehead.

His leg itched where it met the prosthetic, but he refused to scratch. There would be no relief, so why bother.

The shovel struck the hard ground, sending vibrations along his arm. The work reminded him of a particular visit to America…

As
Rory
grew
older
,
there
was
less and less to do on his trips to America. With no auto and all his hangouts and friends thousands of miles away, the only logical choice to stave off the boredom
was
to help his mother.

Mother had just moved into a nice neighborhood, lots of houses filled with bustling families.
She
loved flowers
and
t
his particular summer she
'
d
asked for
landscaping
help. Of course, Rory
'
d
agreed.

Margaret Chance, his mum,
had
marked places in the yard. Each spot needed a one foot by one foot hole. His
job – dig
the hole.

Rory had completed three when he heard a decidedly feminine voice headed his way. Brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and earbuds from a music player stuffed in her ears
, she sang loudly
.
The
short
running
shorts
she wore
showed
off
long
,
slender
,
shapely legs.

A low whistle escaped his lips
as she drew closer
. Rory
cocked a brow at
her erratic pace.
She s
quint
ed
as if having trouble seeing
,
then
she
turned drastically and
ran in an oblique line.

Rory jumped from his position
and
waved frantically
,
but she smile
d
and wave
d
back. Prepared to shout
,
he
realized he
was too late. Before the words could leave his lips, she yelled.