CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The sun gleamed high in a blue, cloudless sky, and no breeze gave the workers a respite from her noonday heat. Jahnu perched on top of the unfinished roof of the new school, his bare, dark skin dappled with sweat.
With his legs looped around a bamboo beam the workers on the ground hoisted braided thatch shingles to the men up top.
His men bantered with one another, jesting in the way men do when they work together, and a smile etched his lips. Deep within Jahnu there sprung an immense gratitude for the project, and the people around him that helped make it happen.
As soon as the funds began to trickle in from the land agreement with the Makia, the other Hundi had rallied around the building of the school, buying and prepping material. Then, over the course of the last six months, a large structure near the center of the village was erected.
More families moved from the outlying family groups, rebuilding the fire-torn southern village, and constructing more huts and treehouses near the school.
The influx of tribesmen had been overwhelming, and it had taken months to work through the logistics of providing enough food and shelter for the ones who wanted to live near where their children would go to school.
Construction on the clinic had not yet begun, but Jahnu knew it was only a matter of time before this vision too, would become a reality. After all, it was playing out in real time before him.
Recovered from his sickness, Sali was confused as to why he had been the only one to contract the fever, but he had an understanding he did not share with her.
The hand of the Lord had been heavy upon him and it had made him ready for death. But death had not claimed him, and now Jahnu wondered with awe what the future might hold.
He was revived, not only in body, but also in spirit and hadn’t felt this alive since he was a boy, when all the worries and troubles of life rested on someone else’s shoulders.
The burden of leadership was still his to carry, but a brush with death had a way of putting things into perspective.
The thatch was secured, one by one. Maybe the roof would be finished by the end of the week, and then only minor fixes remained until the school would be ready.
“Nogut, rabsiman. No good, poor man. Your piece is crooked,” Kemai pointed, jokingly nudging Manuwai. They were all roosting at the top of the ledge, waiting for the next piece of thatch.
“At least I am not still tying them into place, eh, Panaul.” The men laughed. Panaul glared at them. He took his time, often going back to make sure the other men’s work had been completed to his specifications.
“You might do well to take your time, Manuwai. I may be slower, but I am not the one who fell through because of carelessness.” The men howled and Jahnu had to join them. Manuwai had fallen through the roof when they had begun just a few days before. His confidence often caught up to him.
“Where is Lowai?” Jahnu asked, looking around the compound from his position. The yard stretched out beneath them, the crowd of workers under too close to the building for him to see.
“He’s taking another break,” Kemai laughed.
“He’s just a boy. Give him a break,” Panaul said. Lowai hated heights and they’d searched for him more times than he’d been of use to them.
“You are all just boys,” Jahnu said. The razzing continued as another piece of thatch was lifted to them and tied in place.
The squawking sound of children coming up the path caught their attention.
A small mob of scantily clad bodies ran toward the building, kicking up dust in their wake.
Sotee, the oldest of the bunch, separated from them, her long legs giving her the advantage.
She stopped breathless, close enough to shout up to the men who perched atop the rafters.
“Jahnu!” she shouted, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the glaring sun. “A guide from the lowlands is walking up the path to the village. Si-de-nee! Si-de-nee is with him!”
It took a moment for her words to register because he couldn’t believe she had spoken them.
He thought of Sidney often. Prayed for her every time she was brought to his mind, but the years had softened the hard edges of her memory to the point that thinking of her didn’t elicit the painful jabs of grief like they had done the first few months after she had gone.
But hearing these words spoken now erased all the softness that had made her absence bearable, and he felt an unexpected stabbing pain of excitement and anxiety touch his heart.
Sidney was here? How could this be?
He repelled down from the roof, landing hard in the cracking earth and ran with Sotee toward the direction she pointed.
He approached the path and slowed. Long, tawny grasses grew on either side, and the lone dirt path stretched out in front of them.
The black and green jungle sat as a curtain backdrop behind the two forms he saw in the distance.
He made out a dark man, a Papuan, and a woman, a fair-haired, white skin woman, coming up the path.
She wore a backpack and the man carried a heavy load on his back.
As they continued to approach he could see indeed it was Sidney.
His heart leaped in his chest, even as he remained fastened to his place, unable to take even a step.
So many emotions rose within him. Joy, desire, hope, trepidation, doubt, fear.
Questions circled around him, none of them registering with any clarity, and none of them worth his attention.
He beheld her as if in a dream.
She looked different. Earnest and calm—with an air of confidence that was true and not manufactured like it was before.
This strength came from within and left her features with a softer maturity evinced of healing and wisdom.
Her tight jaw was loose with a smile, and tears were streaming down her face.
But as she got closer, another face demanded his attention.
The backpack Sidney carried was a papoose, and inside, a child.
A child with petite features: jet black, spiraling curls, plump, squishy cheeks, and eyes so fierce he was sure looking at them too long would break his heart into a thousand pieces.
The child’s eyes were black and silver, like a piece of obsidian that reflected a spark, and they stared at him with a stolid expression contrasted against the innocent face which encased them.
He couldn’t take his eyes from them.
Sidney stopped two feet in front of him. Neither spoke for several minutes. He barely noticed the Papuan man continue on into the village, carrying his burden with him.
He took her in. Her long, blonde hair pulled away from her face and twisted into a rope that lay on her shoulder.
Her eyes, as blue and green as the twinkling ocean, shimmered now with tears, and her mouth—her sweet, sweet mouth quivered with emotion.
He was utterly astonished that she was really standing right in front of him.
“Sid-de-nee…you…are…here,” he said in English. It sounded funny coming from his mouth since he didn’t speak it often. She gulped out a laugh and a sob, but they still didn’t embrace or touch until Jahnu lifted a hand and rubbed his thumb across her milky white cheek.
“I am not dreaming, am I?”
“No, you’re not dreaming…it’s really me. It’s…it’s us,” she said, and moved to take the papoose off her back, slowly, gently.
She set the child on the ground and knelt beside her. Jahnu followed, squatting until he was eye-level with the girl. Could this be…?
“This is your daughter, Jahnu….this…this is our daughter,” Sidney amended.
The breath was forced from his chest just as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
The revelation of this truth took time to comprehend its full weight.
He thought back to their passionate afternoon at the sulfur spring.
Lust and love, desire and desperation had overtaken them before he knew they would have to part forever.
He never thought, never dreamed it would be the thing that brought her back to him just three years later.
Jahnu reached a hand slowly to touch the soft, pouty, dark-skinned cheeks of his daughter, marveling. Marveling at her beauty, at her existence in the world at all—at her life.
“Her name is Grace,” Sidney whispered.
Jahnu shot a look to Sidney and then he was overcome. He closed a hand across his eyes as huge wracking sobs shook his shoulders and collapsed to sit on the ground.
He gave in to the emotions and cried loudly, not caring who heard or if his volume made Sidney or anyone else uncomfortable.
Unable to stop them, he proceeded to empty himself of all the years of suffering.
All the loves ripped away too soon, all the hardship and misery that had built him into the man he was, and just grieved at the impossibility of it all.
He felt a hand offer comfort on his back, and at her touch, he recovered enough to wipe his eyes and look at her. They stood, leaving Grace to cling to her mother’s legs.
“Why are you here, Sid-de-nee?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. He couldn’t assume—wouldn’t dare hope. Couldn’t even touch her, until he heard the words from her mouth.
She blanched at his question, and he knew it probably wasn’t what she thought he would ask. But the last time he’d asked her to stay, she’d left his heart in a million pieces when she’d told him she belonged to someone else.
He had to know before this went any further.
“I’m here because my life doesn’t make sense without you,” she said, full of emotion. “And not just because of Grace. I tried…we tried living without you, and we don’t fit anywhere else.”
Audibly, his heart pounded within him. He wanted to push these two away as strongly as he wanted to pull them close.
He could not always protect them from the dangers of the jungle and he didn’t know if he could live through another loss if something were to happen to either of them.
Surely America was a better, safer place for them, even if that meant living apart.
“The jungle is a dangerous place to live, Sid-de-nee. Everyday is a fight to live, to survive.” He wanted her to assess the real risk.
Suddenly, he felt inadequate—unable to protect and provide what they needed.
He didn’t know if he was enough for them; didn’t know if he had it in him to love and protect a family again.
Losing the first family had almost left him for dead.
Still, death had not come.
“‘I would rather die fighting, than die by giving in,’” she quoted.
Hadn’t he said that before? Hadn’t he used those very words in an argument with her all those years ago?
“Because life without you…life without Grace’s father in her life…
it’s not life, Jahnu. We choose this life. Will you have us?”
He didn’t wait, but wrapped his arms around her thighs and picked her up, spinning her around and around in the grassy field.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he repeated, “I will have you.” They laughed and cried, and when he released her, slowly lowering her back to the ground, he kissed her mouth, firmly, passionately, possessively, because she was his.
They were both his.
I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee! Job had said at the end of his suffering when the Lord gave him twice as much as he had before.
Jahnu was overcome by the truth that amongst the suffering and conflict, amongst the war fought with enemies and the war fought within, amongst the contradictions and controversies, the tragedies and trials of life, just like his mother had told him on that rainy night when he was only eight seasons old, grace had come to him.
Grace comes to us all. We just need eyes to see.