door behind them. “Indeed, we are sincerely grateful.”
The Rudi family accompanied Terell across the basketball court toward the stairwell. Sam followed with Joshua.
“They’ll beg for more time,” Sam said under his breath. “They always do. The homeless, hungry, sick, battered, dying—they come to Haven hoping for a solution to their problems.”
“Do they ever find one?”
“Temporarily. We let them stay a night or two until they find other quarters. Relief agencies, shelters, food kitchens fill the gap. But it’s never enough.”
“Doesn’t the constant need drag you down?”
“Nah. It’s like the war. You focus on the good, the hopeful.”
“Your fiancée?”
Sam smiled. “Ana helps.”
The woman who had walked into Sam’s life that summer brought him to life again, he had told Joshua. He felt almost human for the first time since his military discharge. Sam said Ana’s intensity matched his own. She could be difficult and definitely stubborn. But with Ana, he could let down his guard.
Joshua was happy for his friend. He’d been too long without a woman in his own life, and he didn’t see much prospect for that changing anytime soon. Most of the girls at home were provincial. They believed everything they heard on television. Few had set foot outside the U. S. Some had never left Texas.
One or two women had caught Joshua’s eye while in Afghanistan, but a military romance was not for him. He enjoyed a lady who knew how the world functioned, but he didn’t want the separation or anxiety of such a relationship. He wouldn’t like to worry about safety. If he ever found love, he couldn’t risk losing it. So he had kept himself distant, focused on the task at hand.
“Ana’s not the only good thing in my life,” Sam said as they approached the stairwell. “We’ve got a lot to be thankful for around here. Lead paint abatement crews just finished stripping and recoating our walls. Ana wrote an article about the paint problem, and a surge of donations poured in. We formed a nonprofit organization—complete with a board of directors and grant writers. The bathrooms are finally working. The ramps, exits and stairwells meet code. It’s been a long haul.”
“The place looks good,” Joshua agreed.
“We’ve got new volunteers, too. Plus, the vet gave Duke an all-clear this morning. Hip dysplasia forced him out of police K-9 service too early, but he’s been God’s gift to us.”
“And this Pagandan family. Thanks to Haven, they’ll sleep safely tonight.”
“You’re the one who made that happen,” Sam said. “We’ve turned away people a lot more pitiful.”
“I’d never let a kid sleep on the streets. You wouldn’t, either, Hawke. You know it.”
As they began to climb the steps to the second floor, Charity and Virtue stretched tiny hands to pat the big dog. Joshua guessed the canine had been trained to sniff out drugs and could take down a grown man, but these small children sensed he wouldn’t harm them.
When Virtue sagged against the stairwell wall, Joshua lifted the tired boy into his arms. Sam scooped up the little girl.
“So Paganda has some big cities?” Terell was asking their father.
“One,” Stephen said. “But we come from a small village beside Lake Victoria. Our people were fishermen.”
“Were?” Terell frowned. “You mean they stopped?”
“Sir, the village was burned. My people…are not there now.”
Joshua silently prayed that Terell would take the hint. But subtlety was not the man’s strong suit.
“Headed for refugee camps, I’ll bet. Good thing you got your family out.”
“My children and I are three of only nine people who survived from my village.” Stephen paused in the stairwell, his voice growing low. “When my wife learned that the rebel army was coming, she placed these two—the youngest except for our baby—inside a metal water drum. There were only a few liters remaining inside it, and she put a padlock on the top. Because of rust, the drum had small holes. Through these, the air could come. When I returned to my house, I saw that the roof and walls had burned. Rebels had looted the furnishings. But God protected the drum. Inside it, I found my two children.”
As Stephen spoke the final words, a chill crawled up Joshua’s spine. The drowsy little boy whose head lolled against his shoulder had survived the destruction of his village because his mother had hidden him in a water drum? At their young ages, the kids might have drowned. The burning house could have caved in on top of them. They might have been discovered and killed. The child was a miracle.
“But where were you the whole time?” Terell asked Stephen as the group walked down a hall.
His grunt was bitter. “I was attending a pastors’ meeting in another town. When I heard news of the rebel attack, I rode my bicycle as fast as I could. But I arrived at my village too late.”
“So your baby? What…I mean…Where’s the baby?”
Shaking his head, Joshua realized that Tyrell had never seen the shell-shocked faces of civilians whose lives were destroyed by war and death. His own inability to shrug off nightmares and block memories of events he had witnessed showed how difficult it could be to recover from such trauma.
“My son, Justice, was killed,” Stephen said, the words muffled. “Also my first wife, Priscilla, and my other children, Purity, Hope, Fidelity and Honor. I would thank you, please, that we not discuss this subject further tonight, sir. By God’s grace, I still have Charity and Virtue. I must protect them from the memories of what they heard and saw.”
“Oh, yeah, my brother. We can drop that topic forever.” Terell looked shaken.
The group stepped into a small room outfitted with several beds and a table. Despite its rules, Haven had made provisions for just such an emergency as this.
“You’ve got clean sheets there,” Sam said. “We keep crackers and power bars on that shelf. Towels and soap are in the bathroom, along with paper drinking cups.”
“I could run out for some milk,” Terell offered. “I’d be glad to do it.”
“Water is most acceptable for us.” Stephen faced his benefactors. “May God bless you for your kindness.”
Joshua bent and gently laid the sleeping Virtue on one of the beds. He pulled a sheet and thin blanket over the child. Thumb thrust into his mouth, Virtue barely stirred. Charity, too, was sound asleep.
When he straightened, Joshua noted that Sam and Terell had left the room. Stephen was murmuring to his wife. It was time to leave the family in peace. Yet Joshua needed to speak.
“Excuse me,” he said. The two Pagandans fell silent as Joshua addressed Stephen. “You’re a pastor, then. A Christian.”
“I am, sir.”
Joshua hesitated a moment. “The pain and the loss you feel. The fear, too. I’ve known some of that. God takes care of it after a while. He uses it to make you better. Trust Him.”
Stephen swallowed, unable to meet the other man’s eyes. He nodded slightly, but did not otherwise respond.
“Good night,” Joshua said finally. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
He closed the door and started after Terell, who was questioning Sam as they walked to their shared room. “Did you hear what that guy said? Rebels killed his baby. His baby! That is just wrong. Those other names—were those his kids, too?”
“Yeah, and his wife,” Joshua said, catching up to them.
Sam frowned. “But his wife is with him.”
“Mary