The Someday List (18 page)

Ms. Wesson shook her head. "No, no one's here today. Wednesday is usually pretty low key in the summers. But help yourself.
Look around. And welcome back, Ms. Covington."

Ms. Wesson turned toward Chaundra. "Did you still need to
visit the ladies' room? I'll show you where it is:'

"Yes, please;' the girl said. She looked at Troy. "I'll be back. Will
you be waiting here?"

"Either here or in front of the building, where we came in;"
Troy said.

When they were gone, he stuck his hands in his pockets and
turned toward Rachelle. "How's your Aunt Irene doing?"

Rachelle glanced at him, then focused on one of the trophy
cases. "She's at home, but she has a long way to go. Emotionally
and physically"

Troy nodded. "That's understandable:"

He walked closer and peered at the photo that had captured her
attention. Their former choir director, Mr. Pearson, was scowling at the choir and bending toward them, as if he could pull the
notes from their throats.

Rachelle and Troy laughed together. Troy leaned against the
case and turned to face her.

"I don't believe in coincidences anymore," he said.

"Really?" Rachelle said. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She looked into his eyes and looked away. The longing there
scared her.

Troy reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

"Don't," Rachelle said.

She turned and walked down another hallway. Troy caught
up with her and reached for her hand again. This time she didn't
resist.

Rachelle paused and looked up at him, trying not to get any
closer than she already was. What would Ms. Wesson and Chaundra think if they returned right now?

Troy didn't seem to care. He held on to her hand and stared
at her.

She thought about the pictures behind them, displaying proud
moments and memories made years ago. She wished they could
be transported back, to a time when what they both were feeling
right now was nothing to be ashamed of or to fear. She wished
she could lean into him and hug him, instead of straining in the
opposite direction.

Troy kept her hand tucked in his and led her to the end of
the hallway and around the corner. "I want to show you something."

She allowed him to guide her.

In the very first case at the edge of the corner were photos from
their years at Everson. She recognized the student choir directors in the images. She saw several photos of herself, and one in
particular caught her eye. Troy zoned in on it too.

The two of them stood side by side, with their shoulders touching as they smiled and lifted a large trophy in the air. The choir
stood behind them cheering.

Troy turned to Rachelle and raised her chin with his forefinger.
He held her in that pose for what felt like an eternity. "How did
I go from first place with you to last?" he asked. "Why did you
leave me, Rachelle?"

He wiped the solitary tear that slid down one of her cheeks with his thumb and leaned in closer. She should have been telling
him to stop, but she didn't.

She let him kiss her, tenderly and slowly, as if he wanted to
make it last for a lifetime. She should have pulled away, but she
kissed him back.

In a split second, however, she realized she had gone too far.
There was no way this could last-no need even faking it. Rachelle
pushed past him and trotted down the hallway, toward the main
entrance.

"I'm sorry, Troy," she said without turning to look at him, "I
can't do this. You can't either. You have too much to lose"

She exited the building and tried to see past the tears that were
blinding her.

As much as she resented her husband's lack of attention and
affection, Rachelle didn't want to sink lower than he had. She also
didn't want to hurt Troy a second time. If he wasn't going to think
straight and consider all that he had at stake, she would love him
enough to do it for him.

osquito netting had become Gabe's best friend.

Without the mesh covering to relax and sleep
under every night, he was certain from the constant buzzing that
filled his ears that he would be returning home with a war story
about surviving malaria.

This evening, as most of the other members of the mission team
prepared for bed, he and Stevens sat on a screened porch, under a
wide swatch of insecticide-treated netting, with the door latched.
That had been necessary, because the Ugandans were so fascinated
to have Americans staying with and serving them that they rarely
gave them time alone, unless it was explicitly requested.

Stevens pulled out an oversized, black leather Bible whose spine
seemed nearly gone. He had taped it with masking tape several
times; even so, the leather had continued to crack.

"'Bout time to trade that in for a new version, isn't it?" Gabe
asked.

Stevens shook his head. "Can't. It holds more than words:"

He opened the Bible and slowly flipped through the pages,
revealing sections highlighted in yellow or blue, and words or
phrases scribbled throughout in ink or pencil. There were dates
and partial prayers. Underlined words and question marks.

Gabe snorted. "Is this a textbook or a Bible?"

"Both. I thought the same thing when my grandmother gave it
to me just over three years ago, when I got serious about my faith.
Most of these markings were made by my grandfather. But when
I received it, I bought the highlighter to keep track of passages
that spoke to me or that I needed to study more.

"I've found that I'm learning and growing each time I read
the same passages;' Stevens said. "This book is also a constant
reminder of God's goodness and grace:"

Gabe folded his arms across his chest.

"What are you thinking?" Stevens asked.

Gabe had questions he didn't know how to pose. How could he
be a renowned surgeon and not know these things? Yet, what did
he have to lose, thousands of miles from his real world, in a place
where time slowed to an ancient pace and joy resulted from oneon-one personal connections rather than being well connected?

"I'm wondering what the difference is between grace and mercy,
in the religious sense. You hear Christians spouting those words
all the time," Gabe said. "And how can the words in a book change
your life?"

Stevens leaned back in his chair. They were so near the equator that the setting of the sun hadn't caused the temperature to
dip much. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow and stared
at the starry sky.

"Grace and mercy are pretty similar;" Stevens said. "Grace is
God's unearned gift. It means he loves you, he blesses you. He
gives you chances you don't deserve.

"When God has mercy on us, he's deciding not to hold a grudge
for all of the stupid, mean, or conniving things we've done. It
means he gives us a fresh start, with no strings attached, when
we ask for forgiveness with a sincere heart"

Stevens glanced at Gabe. Gabe nodded to let him know he
could continue. Stevens briefly waved his Bible.

"This book, here;' he paused and his voice quivered. "The words
in here shook me up, man. When I asked God to take over my
life and I read the stories of the early Christians, and about how
God's unconditional love was available to me thousands of years
later, it changed me:"

Gabe looked at his friend. "Is this a white boy thing?"

Stevens frowned, then laughed until he was red in the face.
Gabe watched him intently until he composed himself.

"Jesus was born to Jewish parents, had wooly hair, and loved
all mankind, Gabe;' Stevens said. "I'm laughing because I see
that you're serious. You're worried that if you decide to become a
Christian here in Africa, you're going to get back to Houston and
have to face your friends and family and explain what happened
to you. That's it, isn't it?"

Gabe gritted his teeth. Stevens still knew him too well.

"What about all those `brothers' in Houston, or for that matter,
around the world, who profess a love for the Lord?" Stevens said.
"Come on, Gabe. You know better"

Stevens was right, Gabe acknowledged. He did know better.
But he wasn't about to become some wigged-out Christian, handing out pamphlets and selling all of his goods to move to Africa
just because ... just because ... He squirmed when he couldn't
finish the thought.

Stevens flipped the pages in his Bible until he reached Colossians 3:23-24.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for
the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an
inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ
you are serving.

Stevens looked at him. "Serving God doesn't mean you have to
change who you are, Gabe;' he said. "You just have to allow him
to change your heart. When he does that, you can't help but alter
the way you treat others, and you'll long to pick up the Bible
and know more about him, without having to wait for a Sunday
morning sermon. Have I changed that much?"

Gabe thought about it.

Stevens was a different person, but not in an offensive or overbearing way. Instead, he had become more patient and focused on
his work, he had become the calming center of the practice when
the pace got too frantic, and he seemed much happier.

"You've changed for the better;' Gabe acknowledged.

"I'm not required as a Christian to stalk people with my faith,
and I hope you've never felt that I've done that with you," Stevens
said.

Gabe shook his head. If anything, he had been forced to pull out
of Stevens why he seemed content, even when things weren't going
smoothly in his personal life or when a patient didn't survive.

"I don't take this big Bible with me everywhere and whip it out
for someone in need of a good word;' Stevens said. "Some people
may do that, but that's not my style. I'll offer to hold their hand,
or listen, or pray, when it's appropriate. And sometimes I'll invite
them to join me on a mission trip."

Gabe laughed. "I fell for the okey-doke, huh?"

Stevens shook his head and stood up. He laid the Bible on the
table in front of him. "I'd never trick you into anything, man. I
wanted you to come and help these people that I deeply respect.
I wanted you to get a taste of what it's like to live outside your
world and your life and your blessings. This experience in and of
itself can be life changing.

"This is not a bad place to begin wrestling with God's role in it all, but honestly, there's no pressure. I've got your back, no
matter what:'

The men did a soul-brother handshake and hugged.

"How's that for a white boy?"

They laughed.

"Sorry, man," Gabe said.

Stevens was about to part the netting and unlatch the door
when Gabe touched his shoulder.

"One more question, man;' he said. "About this grace and
mercy. Does that apply to everything?"

Stevens turned and faced him. "Before I surrendered to God,
I was gambling away my future," he said quietly. "Those long
weekend trips I took? They weren't to golf resorts. I was holed
up somewhere losing big, while my wife sat at home crying and
worrying about whether we'd survive financially. God removed
my addiction and saved me from bankruptcy, Gabe. That's nothing but grace and mercy."

Gabe followed his friend into the building and bade him good
night.

His mind was swirling from all he'd heard, and he still felt
awkward for having asked Stevens to talk with him anyway. He
walked to the room he shared with three other men from Gabe's
church and tiptoed to his cot, where he would cover himself with
more netting and quickly change into lightweight sleepwear.

Once settled, he lay there, listening to the mosquito songs and
willing sleep to come. Instead, Stevens's words reverberated in his
mind. The portions of the Scripture about pleasing God instead
of man became a refrain.

He thought about his sins, the biggest of all being his eighteenmonth affair with Veronica. How could he fix that? Would God
really help him set things straight?

Stevens hadn't said so, but from the little Gabe knew about God,
he realized that if he were going to take a serious step toward faith,
he would have to seek forgiveness, not only from the heavenly
Creator, but also from his wife.

If choosing God meant Rachelle might never come home, he
wasn't sure he could do it.

achelle was still flustered by the time she reached Uncle
Charles and Aunt Irene's home and didn't want anyone
to see her.