Given New Worlds Page 11

  Dad and Mom continued to be involved in Abby’s life, but once they found out that she’d begun talking again, the worried daily calls to Frank and Sandra diminished to comforted biweekly conversations. Abby had yet to speak to them herself. She wasn’t ready. It was reassuring to know that her parents were happy enough with her progress to let go a little bit, yet she still felt guilty. They’d worked so hard to put a protective cocoon around her, but it had been to no avail.

  It was a prayer that she often lifted up to God; asking him to take away her guilt as well as that of her parents. But that wasn’t the biggest prayer. Every night, Abby would pray for God to take away memories, the memories of Sean.

  While she had been dead to the world outside her, Abby had had the ability to push the memories out of her head, but now that her feelings had returned, the sorrow of loss remained. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he happy? Did he ever think about her? Would he even know her now? Would he still be able to love this broken and tortured replication of who she used to be?

  The old Abby had the innocence of being protected, taken care of. She’d been able to trust and love, but now she felt new emotions that rattled her soul and occasionally took her to her knees in anguish and prayer. There was so much anger, hate, and the need to seek revenge. She kept it bottled up inside, as if it were just waiting for the right moment to jump out. But the cap of the bottle stayed on, waves of other emotions flowing over it as the bottle floated on the ocean - waiting for someone to pluck it out. What would happen when they did? What would happen when the cap was taken off the bottle. Abby tried not to think about it. She would leave that up to God.

  When the Kenya trip arrived, Abby realized that she still had a long way to go. As soon as the driver arrived to take them to the airport, Abby sank back into her private world of non-communication. She watched as Frank and Sandra exchanged concerned glances but couldn’t bring herself to contribute to the small talk in the car. After several unanswered questions, they left her alone.

  She followed them into the airport and towards the gate of their flight. She drank the bottle of water Frank gave her, handed the flight attendant her passport, then sat in her seat and stared out the window for the next eight hours.

  When they arrived in Nairobi, Sandra guided her through the various check points and pointed out that Abby would have to answer questions. Abby agreed with a nod, hoping that her mouth would obey orders this time around.

  “What is the purpose of your trip?” a large man with piercing eyes and yellowing teeth asked her from behind the linoleum countertop.

  “Mission work.”

  “How long do you plan to stay?”

  “Seven days.”

  He typed a note into the computer before asking the next question. “Where will you be staying?”

  Abby slid her itinerary papers towards the man, hoping it would be explanation enough. She’d had a tough time answering the two questions already posed and wasn’t sure she could handle any more. He glanced over the papers and handed them back with a smile, his eyes no longer piercing, but soft and crinkled in the corners.

  “You are with Mission Trek. This is a good group. Just a few more questions, Miss…” he glanced at the paper. “Abigail?”

  “Jamie,” Abby said. “My friends call me Jamie.”

  She wasn’t sure why she lied. Both parts were untrue. The fact that her name was Jamie, and the fact that she had friends.

  “Well, Miss Jamie,” he asked. “What is your occupation?”

  “I’m training to work in the medical field,” she said. It wasn’t completely untrue, but it was all that came out of her mouth.

  “Very good, Miss Jamie. We could always use more doctors in this world. I pray that you will be one of the good ones.”

  “Yes, sir,” Abby said. She wondered if she ever could be a doctor. After the attack, she’d given up thinking about a medical career. But now that she was alive again, she needed to take a step. She couldn’t go on living with the Gills, letting them take care of her their whole lives. Of course, Dad and Mom made sure they were paid handsomely to care for Abby, but it wasn’t about the money. After all, Sandra and Frank didn’t care about all that, but they needed their own family, their privacy. And Abby needed to move forward. “I promise to be one of the good ones,” she said.

  He nodded, then handed her passport back with a stamp and a smile. “Go out into the world,” he whispered, then called to the next person in line.

  Abby recognized the verse. It was from the book of Mark.

  Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.

  And she knew that’s what she was being called to do.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  THEIR days were busy. Every morning, they would take a bus trip from their hotel to a small city on the outskirts of Nairobi where they spent time with the children at an orphanage connected with a small private hospital. They played games, made crafts, and talked about Jesus.

  Abby found joy while immersing herself in the work. It was a challenging and rewarding experience, exhausting her to the point of collapse by the time their bus made the long trip to the hotel every night. She would often fall asleep on the way back, even amongst the juddering over rough roads, and the cackling conversation of the local people on the bus. She found a peace in it. A freedom.

  Her whole life, Abby had been protected; never allowed on a bus without security, never driving from one place to another without at least three other people knowing where she was. And now, here she was. Sitting on a bus loaded with people. Only Frank and Sandra knew who she really was, and they weren’t out for her photo, or an interview, or a way to make money on a story about her. Their only wish was that she find the peace that passes understanding.

  Abby looked behind her and saw that Sandra was curled up in Frank’s arms and his head had dropped back into an unorchestrated snore. They were as exhausted as she was, if not more so. Abby’s emaciated body was used to not eating, but Frank and Sandra had known three meals a day since their last mission trip, and it was taking a toll. They usually had a full breakfast at the hotel but didn’t eat much during the day. The children and staff at the orphanage barely had enough for one meal a day. Sandra and Frank didn’t want to take away from the meager supply. They would have one final chow down once they returned to the hotel, but Abby was usually content enough with her empty stomach and normally went straight to bed. She turned back around and tried to settle herself for another few minutes of napping before they arrived at their hotel, but the bus was making a loud racket, and Abby could feel jerking coming from the rear axle. She closed her eyes and prayed. She didn’t want to get stuck out here in the middle of nowhere and have to wait six hours for another vehicle to pick them up.

  Lord, please take care of us. Protect us. Make your path advantageous and fruitful.

  Once again, God listened.

  Just as her prayer ended, the bus lurched to a halt and she felt a tipping - almost as if they were falling over. She glanced out the window into the dark night and saw that they weren’t on the flat land of the rugged highway but had just turned onto a bridge that went over one of the small rivers on the way into town. She felt the bus slide, and then the world became slow motion as Abby fell towards the side of the bus, hitting her head against the window. A woman and child tumbled on top of her and the boy began screaming in fright and possibly pain.

  It only took seconds for the bus to settle on the edge of the river below the bridge, but to Abby it had seemed like hours. Once the moving stopped and the cries of the people around her increased, her breathing returned. She felt the woman on top of her frantically trying to calm her son in order to climb out of the bus. The windows had shattered, and the top had broken partially off its supports so that people were able to escape swiftly. Abby found the boy’s arms and held him securely while the mother settled herself and stood up towards the cracked roof. She motioned for Abby to hand the child over, but Abby pointed towa
rds the opening and indicated that she would hand the child up afterwards. It was dark, but the light of the moon had provided enough illumination through the disintegrated windows for Abby to get the message across. She watched as the woman gathered her skirt and climbed over the seats onto the side of the bus.

  The boy was screaming and struggling in Abby’s arms, but she couldn’t let go - she needed to protect him from the chaos around her. He yelled and bit and pushed away, but Abby held tight. And then she considered how she was going to hand him up. Her arms had been weakened by malnourishment and lack of movement over many months. She didn’t have the strength to lift the thirty-pound child up to his mother.

  Thoughts rushed through her head - Abby’s protected world, her secure environment, her controlled perimeter. All the things that had held her tight had not protected her, nor would Abby’s arms be able to help this frightened boy. She let go and watched as he climbed over seats and through the crevice of metal beyond which his mother was waiting for him.

  Was that all it took?

  Abby had been let go. She was now free. No one to protect her, but no one to hold her back either. Whether she succeeded or failed, thrived or died, it was now up to her. She sat on the sidewall of the bus and watched as the last stragglers lifted themselves out of the decimated vehicle. Screams and crying from outside the bus indicated the horror, the agony, but for a moment, Abby sat, breathing the last of her old breaths, dying to who she used to be. It was time to pick up her cross, to be the person God wanted her to be. It was now her time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  AFTER five hours of performing a myriad of medical treatments to the passengers injured on the bus, Abby returned to the hotel for several hours of sleep before climbing on another bus to the orphanage. Frank and Sandra never demanded that she stay at the hotel to recover from the accident, they only nodded their heads in understanding. Abby had found purpose, and they wouldn’t take it away from her.

  “Young woman,” a man in a long white coat and thick glasses motioned towards Abby. His name was Dr. Otieno and he was the director of medical services for South Mission Hospital, the building attached to the orphanage at which she’d been volunteering. “I must speak with you.”

  Abby handed the toddler she was holding over to ten-year-old Hadiya and walked to where Dr. Otieno was standing with arms crossed and a questioning look on his face. “My nurse tells me that you were at the bus accident yesterday.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “She says you have much medical skill, is this correct?”

  “I was training to be a doctor back in the U.S.”

  “Very well, come with me.”

  Abby followed Dr. Otieno around the building to the entrance of the hospital. “Due to the doctor strike, we are very short on help here. I will take any hand I can get. Are you willing to assist on a surgery?”

  “A surgery? I don’t think…” Abby felt confusion, then wonder, then realization. “Yes. Of course I’ll help.”

  “Very good,” he walked swiftly down several hallways into the surgical wing. This area of the hospital was cooled with air conditioning and felt like heaven on her skin.

  “You will clean and clothe in that room,” he said, pointing to a door on his left. “Just follow Nurse Oyana, she will guide you.”

  He placed his hand on the swinging door to his right before turning back to Abby. “What shall we call you?” he asked.

  “Jamie.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  TWO days later, Abby stared at the telephone, wondering if words would come at all. It had been so long since she’d spoken with her parents. After the injuries to her larynx, and having gone months without speaking, she now had a rough, grainy voice. It was very different from the sweet intonation of her past. Would her mother recognize it? Mom knew that she could speak and had often begged her to say a few words over the phone, but Abby hadn’t had the ability to comply. She hadn’t been ready. But now, she was different. She was free.

  She glanced out the window and watched Frank laughing with Dr. Otieno. Both Sandra and Frank had prayed over Abby when she’d struggled with the decision to stay in Africa. And they all came to the same conclusion. It was where God wanted her.

  The hospital was struggling under the weight of the doctor’s strike and Abby needed a place to hide out - to heal. Nothing could be less conspicuous than a small hospital and orphanage on the outskirts of Nairobi.

  But convincing Mom and Dad wasn’t going to be as easy.

  Step One: dial the telephone

  She watched her own shaky fingers press against the numbers on Dr. Otieno’s private phone line.

  Step Two: listen to the rings

  One, two, three, four… “Hello.”

  Step Three: speak.

  “Mom?” It was barely a voice. Only a small squeak. But Abby could hear the pulse of emotion eight thousand miles away.

  Step Four: make polite conversation

  “How are you?”

  It took Mom a few minutes to gather herself before joining the awkward conversation.

  “I’m… I’m good. How are you?”

  “I’m good too.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  Abby wasn’t going to lie. That would only make the conversation superficial and more difficult. “My throat is better, and my back. Sometimes my ribs still hurt. And I can’t run a marathon yet.”

  Abby listened as her mom laughed with what seemed like relief. “I’m glad you’ve regained your sense of humor.”

  “Yes. I feel… happy.”

  “You do?” Mom sounded surprised, as if there’s no way someone could find happiness in the middle of Africa. But Abby had. She’d found a purpose. She’d found a way to be needed and appreciated. She’d found freedom.

  “When will you return to Bern?”

  Abby closed her eyes and prayed one last time before presenting her decision.

  “I’m going to stay here,” Abby stated simply.

  “Where are you? I thought you would be going to Kenya with Sandra and Frank.”

  “I am in Kenya.”

  Silence on the other end of the phone indicated Mom’s shock.

  “I’ve found freedom, Mom. I’m not hounded by the press. I can go where I want, when I want. And Mom, listen to this. I’ve been assisting in surgeries and procedures and births. They need me here.”

  More silence.

  “Mom? Are you still there.”

  “Yes… Yes. I just…”

  Abby waited for her mom to sort everything out. Surely it was shock enough that she was hearing her daughter’s voice after eight months. But it was a different voice. And this was a different Abigail.

  “Your father isn’t going to like this.”

  “I know. You probably don’t either.”

  More silence. Then with a sigh, Mom choked tears into the phone. “I know this is right though. It’s so hard. It was hard enough to let go of you when you went to Switzerland. And then we let you go on this mission trip. But now, you’ll be… you’ll be alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” Abby said, and she truly wasn’t. The friendly compassion of the Kenyan people was so different from the anonymous seclusion of the United States. Abby had the freedom to be part of a community without the jarring intrusion that she’d lived with daily in her old world. “I’ll be in an apartment with three nurses. One of them, Oyana, is wonderful. We’ll be bunkmates.”

  “Bunkmates?”

  “Yes. It’s a small apartment. We will all share one bedroom with two bunkbeds. I get the lower since with my rib injuries it would be hard to climb to the top.”

  “Yes,” Mom said softly, still in shock. “That would be hard.”

  “Dr. Otieno will be taking me under his wing. He’s the director of medical services for the hospital I’ll be working at.”

  “Dr. Otieno?” her mom said absently.

  “And I have God with me,” Abby said, wondering if her mom would be open
to the thought.

  Sobbing etched through the phone line into Abby’s heart. She wished she could reach her arms across the miles and hold Mom, letting her know that it was going to be okay. But, as was always the case, Abby didn’t know if it would be okay. All she knew was that this was where she needed to be.

  “I see that now, Abigail,” Mom said through her weeping. “I had to let go, and the only one I knew that could truly take care of you was God.”

  Abby was floored. She’d never heard her mom speak about God, or anything remotely religious. Those were taboo subjects. Traffic and weather were always much more appropriate topics.

  “He is taking care of me,” Abby reassured her. “He was there during that dry period. And he has a plan for me here.”

  “Take up your cross, deny yourself, and follow Jesus.”

  “What?” Abby wasn’t sure she’d heard mom right. The verse was familiar, but not coming out of Mom’s mouth.

  “You’re doing it, sweetheart. I’ve always been too scared, and too wrapped up in my life. But you are doing exactly what God asks of us. I’m so proud of you.” The sentence ended in a hush. Abby knew the feeling. That sense of overwhelming certainty when you were in God’s presence, when you could see his work being done, when you were truly surrounded by the Holy Spirit. Mom was there. She’d been there all along. Even though she hadn’t spoken the words, Mom knew. Now it was Abby’s time to cry.

  “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll talk to Dad. He’s been a little… well, this has all been so hard on him. He’s not himself, you see. But come hell or high water, I’ll make sure that he doesn’t stand in your way. Because you know, you are free now.”