The Someday List (24 page)

Rachelle smiled. "Well, thank you. `Miss Daisy' is excited about
reading to the kids at the clinic. She likes to get there when Cynthia opens. I happen to like it a lot too. I've been helping with
eye exams.

Aunt Melba lowered Rachelle's head into the shampoo bowl
and nodded. "Cynthia told me. She says you're great with the
kids and the parents"

Rachelle was beginning to think so too. Since they were alone,
however, she had a more pressing matter on her mind. "Troy keeps
trying to contact me. Can you believe it, Aunt Melba?"

Melba was quiet as she worked shampoo through Rachelle's
hair and scrubbed her scalp. "What does he want, Rachelle?" she
finally asked.

"He keeps apologizing for kissing me and says he wants to meet
so we can put this behind us:"

Melba stood back and looked at her. "I actually think that's a
good idea, under the right circumstances. Both of you need to
deal with what happened so you can bless and release each other.
You need to move on so you can get things straight with Gabe. And it hasn't escaped my attention that this fine man is walking
around Jubilant unattached. If I were about thirty years younger,
I'd be telling him to kick you to the curb once and for all"

Rachelle raised her head and tried to keep from leaking water
onto the floor. "Aunt Melba!"

"I'm serious;' she said. "You don't need to be looking at him,
but I can!"

Rachelle resumed her position and shook her head in exasperation.

"Seriously though, Rachelle, you need to talk and get this resolved;' Melba said. "It's probably weighing on him because he
works at church, with Pastor Taylor, and he wants to make sure
he's doing the right things before God"

Rachelle hadn't considered that. Maybe Troy was trying to clear
this up so he could minister more effectively through the music.
If that was the case, she had been hampering him.

She told Melba about his plea for her to come to the church
today and his offer for her to bring someone along. "Will you go
with me?"

Melba glanced at the clock. It was 7:20 a.m. "I'll be done with
your hair in another hour, but I don't want to miss my next client"

Rachelle frowned. "Didn't you just tell me she won't be in until
ten thirty?"

Aunt Melba nodded. "Yep, but this could take awhile. Call
him and ask if he and Pastor Taylor mind coming here. If they
get here right at eight thirty, that would give us almost two hours.
I want to help"

Troy had left his cell phone number in the message. Rachelle
listened to it again and stored the digits in her temporary memory
bank.

He picked up on the first ring. "Thanks for calling me back." He
sounded anxious.

"Would you and Pastor Taylor be able to meet me at Melba's
salon in about an hour?"

Troy agreed without hesitating. "We'll be there. Thank you,
Rachelle. I appreciate it"

She clicked off the phone and realized she was feeling uneasy.
This could be the close of a difficult chapter for both of them, but
first, some deep wounds might have to be reopened.

People called them night commuters, because that's what
they did. They walked, sang, and prayed all night, hopeful that
if they kept moving instead of sleeping in one of the displaced
persons camps, they would stay out of harm's way. Some of their
friends and relatives had been captured by the Lord's Resistance
Army and tortured or raped. Some had been forced to become
soldiers and kill people they knew and loved.

When some of those young victims managed to escape, they
too joined the band of night wanderers. Staying alive and free
from the army's grip was worth the wear and tear on their feet
that came with the twelve-mile, one-way commute.

Gabe watched from the shadows and wanted to weep. His heart
broke. God, please help them.

For the second time in days, he uttered a genuine prayer. For
the first time ever, he received a reply in his heart.

That is what I have sent you to do.

When Stevens and a couple of Ugandan locals were preparing
to slip away from the well-lit perimeter of the orphanage earlier
this evening for a "special mission;' Gabe had insisted on coming
along. Stevens and Chrissa had tried to talk him out of it.

"Gabe, this is your first time on a mission trip. This can be
dangerous. Just stay," Chrissa had said. She looked at her husband.
"Lyle and I are prayed up; we're prepared for whatever may happen, but I'm not sure you have that same level of assurance right
now. Northern Uganda is dangerous:"

Gabe knew Chrissa was talking about the need to have a relationship with God. She didn't know about his desert experience, though. He had connected with God and was ready to be
of service. If Stevens believed this mission to another part of the
country warranted the risk, he was going too.

While they were en route, Stevens shared details about Joseph
Kony's Lord's Resistance Army and about how, if children weren't
rescued or hidden away, they could be taken and turned against
their own families.

It happened every night, and youths whose parents had died
of AIDS or in some other fashion were the most vulnerable.

"Malichi and Akello have already scoped out a couple of villages
where children are living alone, fending for themselves," Stevens
explained while he and Gabe crouched in the back of the a car
so no one could see them. Stevens's white skin and Gabe's light
complexion would make them easy targets.

Malichi and Akello scanned the streets to make sure no one
was following them.

"We'll go into the villages and tell them to come with us, to safety"
Stevens said. "Since I am white, they know I'm not part of LRA.
They trust me when I tell them I'm taking them to a better place.

"We bring them to southern Uganda, to one of the orphanages
that cares for children, and they remain there until they are able
to care for themselves:"

Now, under the veil of night, they had paused on their way to
one of the designated villages near Acholiland to watch the night
commuters' routine trek.

"If they are all walking, how can we be sure that the children
we want to help are at home, in their villages?" Gabe asked.

"Not everyone walks;' Stevens said. "Some are afraid; some
just don't know yet. There are still many children to help. We do
what we can:"

Gabe sat back and looked at his friend. "How long have you
been doing this, Stevens? Why haven't you told me about this?"

Stevens shrugged. "When we do things for Christ, he is the
only one who needs to know. This is not about me doing `good
works' It's about me loving others because I've been blessed to
be loved''

Malichi pulled away from their hiding spot and drove to the
village he had selected. When he gave Stevens a thumbs-up,
Stevens put on a lightweight hooded jacket and hid his face as
much as possible.

He and Akello trotted along the edge of the village and entered
two thatched huts. Within minutes, they returned with three
children.

They thrust them onto the backseat of the car, next to Gabe.
The saucer-sized eyes of two little boys and a little girl, not more
than four, peered up at him.

Stevens tumbled in with them, breathless but excited. He motioned for Malichi to take off.

The two boys huddled together on the seat. The girl climbed
onto Gabe's lap and stuck her thumb in her mouth. She clung to his shirt as if they were on a tightrope and if she let go, she would
spin into a freefall.

Gabe was speechless.

Akello turned toward the children and spoke to them in Acholi,
their tribal language.

"I told them they are safe and they can go to sleep;' he said as
Malichi drove swiftly, racing through the cover of night to reach
southern Uganda. "They know we are their caretakers until we
get them to the orphanage. I told them we are good friends and
that we will protect them, okay?"

Gabe nodded. Wait until he told Rachelle about this.

Then he realized he couldn't, not only because he couldn't risk
the safety of these three youngsters and other children like them,
but also because maybe it was too late for his marriage.

Yet the biblical passage that Stevens had shared with him just
last night, before they set out on this adventure, had encouraged
him.

With God, nothing is impossible.

Gabe stroked the cheek of the little girl who lay against his
chest falling into a deeper sleep with each mile they crossed, and
he knew.

It was time to go home. For good.

he years peeled away as Rachelle sat on Melba's red
sofa, across from Troy.

She and Troy were twenty-one and twenty-two again, standing
at the altar preparing to say "I do:' She saw it as clearly as if it had
happened yesterday. And yet, it had not.

Pastor Taylor and Aunt Melba abruptly reminded her of that.
She and Troy were fifteen years older now and had become different people, living different lives. The only context in which they
needed to view that November 9 wedding was one that allowed
them to grieve for its potential and put it to rest.

Pastor Taylor and Aunt Melba agreed on those ground rules
from the beginning.

"That just clears up why we're here;" Pastor Taylor said. "There's
no need to play games or be coy in the hopes that it will allow
you to rekindle what you once had. That relationship died a long
time ago, without a proper burial.

"I'm not saying you can turn your emotions on and off like a
faucet-I know that's impossible;' he said. "But your memories
and feelings about this part of your past can't continue to shape
your future. It's just not healthy."

He sat back and folded his arms. "Right now, I'm not Pastor Taylor. I'm Malcolm-Troy's `uncle; here to listen and offer fair
and equal support:'

Aunt Melba nodded. "You know who I am. I've known you
since your sophomore year of college, Troy. I'm here to listen
and help both of you:"

Pastor Taylor-Malcolm-looked at Rachelle. "You're married
with two children. I don't know the status of your relationship with
your husband, but the fact that you're here is a bit telling."

He turned to Troy. "You've been engaged twice and just went
through the breakup of another serious relationship. I know you're
tired of this happening."

Rachelle tried to mask her surprise. Troy had as much at stake
as she did.

Pastor Taylor sighed and rested his hands on his miniature
paunch. "Tell me what's going on"

With his laid-back demeanor and gentle smile, he seemed safe.
Rachelle understood why Troy confided in him.

"I've been here for almost three weeks and nobody has addressed the fact that Troy was my first love-the love of my life;'
Rachelle said. "Everybody keeps telling me to get myself together
and focus on my husband, without acknowledging that things
weren't right in my second marriage from the start because of
my feelings for Troy.

"Troy and I loved each other enough to get married, and even
though everyone thought it was too soon and inappropriate to
elope, for us it was right:"

Troy leaned forward and made a teepee with his hands. "Then
why did you leave me, Rachelle? And if you felt you had to, why
didn't you tell me face-to-face?"

His voice was controlled, but she heard the thread of hurt
coursing through the question. Rachelle felt it too.

She lowered her eyes. "I couldn't tell you face-to-face because,
first of all, I knew I wouldn't be able to do it. One look in your
eyes and I wouldn't have left."

Melba leaned over and touched her arm. "Look at Troy while
you're talking to him now, Rachelle. Look him in the eyes:"

That was the problem. She still couldn't bring herself to do that.
She loved him too much to really tell him goodbye.

She considered the revelation about his relationship woes. This
was about his healing as much as hers. She owed him all she
could give.