Whispers of a New Dawn (2 page)

“I was raised to pray about everything,” the pilot replied and turned to the front once again.

For a while there was only the sound of the four-cylinder air-cooled inline engine as it pulled them through the blue sky and over the turquoise sea. Then Mr. Thornberry leaned forward. His voice was light and pleasant. He had decided to try a different approach.

“Rebecca—”

“My friends call me Becky.”

“I see. Well, I should like to be a friend. Ah, the mission board said you had been three years on the main island of Providenciales.”

“That’s right.”

“And the church you planted with your parents has, what, just under two hundred people now?”

“One hundred and sixty-seven. That includes children. And newborns.”

“I think that’s remarkable. Remarkable.” He paused, and Becky Whetstone imagined him staring at the clouds that loomed closer and closer, arrayed like black and purple pillars in the sky in front of them. “And all that time you flew back and forth from Miami frequently?”

“I did. So did my father and my mother. We often flew in and out of Cuba and Jamaica as well. Sometimes Haiti and the Dominican Republic. You can just spot the island Haiti and the Republic share over on our right. To the west.”

“The board mentioned a brother.”

“Nate is several years older than I am.” Becky’s voice suddenly lost its playfulness. “He chose to go to China as a missionary instead of joining us in the Caribbean.”

“Is that where he is now?”

“We have not heard from him in three years. Not since 1938.”

Mrs. Thornberry’s voice had nothing of the frost of minutes before. “Where was his mission?”

“In Nanking.”

“Nanking.” Mrs. Thornberry’s voice softened further. “Where the Japanese army was so brutal.”

“Yes.” Becky suddenly spoke in a tight and clipped manner. “Mother and Father continue to make inquiries. They refuse to give up hope. Every Sunday dinner a place is set for Nate. The praying in our family does not stop. It never stops.”

“What was…” Mr. Thornberry hesitated. “What is your brother like?”

Becky saw the tall and slender body, the long sensitive fingers, the shy smile, blond hair always falling into his eyes and making him squint.

“He’s beautiful,” she said.

Moments after she said this, the stabs of lightning and the towering dark clouds cleared from in front of the aircraft. They were shifting to the right, heading west for Haiti and the Dominican Republic and Cuba. No longer in a teasing mood, Becky simply said, “The trade winds blow from east to west. I knew the storm system would be gone long before we reached Turks and Caicos.”

With the thunderheads gone, the islands of the Bahamas were
obvious and Becky pointed them out to the Thornberrys. The water flashed jade and emerald and aquamarine and a dreamlike blue topaz. The Leopard Moth began to descend as Becky headed toward Turks and Caicos, just below the Bahaman Islands chain.

“How beautiful the water is!”

Becky twisted around and gave Mrs. Thornberry her full smile. It made her whole face come to life—her cat-sharp green eyes, her brown tan, the air and sun look of her hair. “It’s like velvet to swim in, Mrs. Thornberry. So warm and clear. It’s as if someone you loved put their arms around you. Someone like God.”

The smile made Becky’s beauty so obvious and so startling that Mr. Thornberry had to glance away, back down to the green sea and the islands with their white strips of sand. “The mission board is sorry you’re moving on.”

Becky faced front and continued to nose the Leopard Moth downward, completely unaware of the effect she had had on the older man. “It’s a British territory. It’s only right that British missionaries like yourselves carry on with God’s work here.”

“We’re all his children. Nationalities don’t matter. I wish you and your parents would reconsider.”

“I love it here, Mr. Thornberry, believe me. The light brightens everything in a kind of supernatural way, as if we’re not in this world but on the shores of heaven. It makes the island throb. Gives palm trees and waves and seagulls and people—everything—a fire. A divine color. I can’t get enough of what God has done in the tropics.”

Surprised by Becky’s sudden chattiness, Mrs. Thornberry spoke up. “I agree with my husband. You really should consider staying on. It’s clear that the Lord has ministered to your heart and spirit here.”

“We’ve prayed this through, Mrs. Thornberry. Each of us agrees that it’s time to return to America for awhile. My grandfather—dad’s father, Grandpa Whetstone—died last month and we haven’t been back to Pennsylvania since we arrived at Turks and Caicos. That was in ’38 and now it’s July of 1941—more than three years have gone by and we haven’t set foot on the old homestead.”

“I read that some of your family were farmers. Part of a religious sect.” Mrs. Thornberry coughed. “I’m sorry. For want of a better word.”

“Oh, they’re Christians just like you and me.” Becky’s voice had tightened again. “They go about it a bit differently, that’s all. But Jesus is everything to them.” She straightened in her seat. “You can spot people on the beaches now and under the coconut trees. Are you both strapped in? Here we go!”

The plane roared over the glittering waters and palm trees and people waved as it swooped past. There was a crunch and a bounce and then another bounce, and the Thornberrys gripped the sides of their seats and watched coconut groves and pine trees with long needles stream by. The aircraft came to a stop by a hangar that gleamed silver. A cluster of people stood at the edge of the runway and once the propeller finished turning over they began to walk over toward the scarlet monoplane.

Becky opened up the canopy, waved to the people approaching, and helped the Thornberrys down. Then she dug out the luggage and tossed the cases to a tall man in white pants and shirt with brown hair and skin that had tanned a much darker hue than hers. He caught them and set them on the ground.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Yes, Dad.” She jumped down and kissed him on the cheek. “Miss me?”

“Three days is an eternity. How’s Miami?”

“Crowded.” She turned and hugged a woman with blond hair and green eyes like hers who wore a white blouse and skirt. “Hi, Mom. How was your second honeymoon?”

Her mother laughed. “A lot shorter than my first. Introduce me to your passengers.”

“Mom. Dad. Everyone.” Becky extended her hand toward the Thornberrys. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Thornberry of Essex. They’re here to serve the wonderful people of Turks and Caicos.”

“Welcome.” Becky’s father shook their hands. “God bless you.”

Becky’s mother took their hands as well. “We’ve looked forward to
your arrival. The mission board made it sound like you were going to be here last week.”

“Oh, delays of all sorts.” Mr. Thornberry had already begun to perspire as he stood under the sun in his white shirt and tie and dark navy suit. “Everything’s sorted out.” He looked around him. “Are these some of the members of the church, Mr. Whetstone?”

“Jude. Yes, these are our elders. And Mrs. Hamilton here plays the piano and directs the choir.”

“Splendid.” He shook hands and bowed slightly as he met each person. “I’m so pleased to be among you. My wife and I have been praying about this for years.”

Mrs. Thornberry, also looking warm in a maroon dress and a purple hat with white cotton flowers, smiled and took the hands of the men and women. “Mr. Thornberry is not exaggerating. We’re so grateful to God to be here at last.”

“And we also are pleased you are here.” A tall man grinned. “I am John. Yes, we are glad to have you among us but sorry to see the Whetstone family go.”

Mr. Thornberry wiped his face and forehead with a handkerchief from a pocket in his suit. “I understand. Indeed, Mrs. Thornberry and I asked young Rebecca if her family might not consider staying on.”

“Did you?”

Mrs. Thornberry turned her brightest smile on Becky’s mother. “Mrs. Whetstone. It would be wonderful if you could remain on the island. Even for another six months.”

“Lyyndaya, please. Or just Lyyndy. Mrs. Thornberry, we’d be so happy to stay and never move an inch from this place. But we’ve talked it over, prayed it over, and read through parts of the Bible again and again. We believe we’re supposed to return to Pennsylvania. Perhaps not forever. But for a season. Once we’re there and have been part of whatever it is the Lord wants us to be part of, we expect we’ll get a strong sense of where we’re to go next. We have no idea where that might be.”

“Why, it could be to return here.” Mr. Thornberry fished a wide-brimmed white hat out of one of his bags and planted it on his bare
head as sweat rolled down his pink cheeks. “Think of how welcome this climate will be when winter bears down with frost and snow and wind on Philadelphia.”

Jude smiled. “No doubt about that. Five years in British East Africa—Kenya—and three here have softened us up quite a bit. If God opens the door, we’ll run back to Turks and Caicos in a heartbeat.”

Lyyndaya shrugged. “Or maybe we’ll stay in Pennsylvania and give up flying. We could wind up threshing grain for the Lord and cutting hay and milking cows instead of climbing through the skies.”

Everyone saw the quick flash of green fire that swept through Becky’s eyes. “Not me,” she said.

There was a long moment when no one spoke and Becky stood with what looked like flames flickering about her blond head as she removed her leather helmet. Then Mr. Thornberry smiled and laughed and said the new pilot would be with them in what he called a fortnight.

“Two weeks?” Jude frowned, creases cutting into his handsome face. “Why doesn’t he let us pick him up in our plane?”

“Ah, well.” Mr. Thornberry seemed embarrassed by the conversation he had started in hope of easing the awkwardness of the moment. “He’s one of those types who isn’t comfortable unless he’s at the controls.”

Becky’s eyes ignited again. “You mean he doesn’t trust women pilots?”

Mr. Thornberry swiped at his forehead with his handkerchief. “Ah…Denton…doesn’t trust anyone—he might fly with your father—or he might not. In any case, he’ll wait until you three return with it to Miami and then fly it back here himself.” He squinted up at the sun. “I’m fairly cooking. Can we get under some shade, perhaps? Is there a glass of water or a large cup of tea to be had?”

“Of course, yes, forgive us.” John picked up two of the Thornberrys’ suitcases. “Your house is only a short walk. It’s under the palms and very cool and the trade winds blow right through your windows. Come. Come.”

Other men picked up the rest of the luggage and Lyyndaya accompanied Mrs. Thornberry off the runway and down a sandy path that ran through the trees. Jude remained behind with his daughter who,
despite the heat, continued to stand by the Leopard Moth in a heavy leather flight jacket that was several sizes too big for her.

“You know,” he began quietly, “you didn’t need to make a scene over it.”

The green cat eyes blazed. “Over what?”

“Going back to Pennsylvania. This guy Denton refusing to fly with a woman at the controls.”

“I love Pennsylvania and I love our family there. I don’t mind that they use candles and oil lamps or don’t have cars or phones and it doesn’t matter to me if they want to spend the rest of their lives riding horses and baking bread in woodstoves. But their God says don’t fly, and my God says soar.”

“We have the same God, Becky, you know that. They just feel called to a different life in order to honor him.”

“Well, so do I.”

“All right. All right. No one is trying to clip your wings.”

Becky folded her arms over her chest. “Mother sounds like she’s going to give it a try.”

“Oh, she just misses living close to her family, her sisters and brothers. You know that.”

“I love them all. Especially Auntie Ruth and Bishop Zook. I take them as they are and accept the life they wish to live. I need them to treat me the same way.”

“They do. You know they do.”

“If Mom wants to park her plane and put on a prayer
kapp
in her old age—”

“Old age?” Jude protested. “She’s barely forty!”

“—that’s up to her. But I’m nineteen and if you try to ground me—”

“No one is going to try to ground you, Beck.”

“—I’ll just make my own way through this world without anyone’s help. I know God wants me up there. It’s like that poem you read to me when I got my pilot’s license.
A lonely impulse of delight drove to this tumult in the clouds
. It delights God that I fly. I know it does.”

Jude gathered her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “All right. All right. Shh.”

“And I don’t need a man either. Especially a man who doesn’t think a woman can fly a plane straight and level. Or who doesn’t believe any woman—or any man—should fly a plane at all. So don’t try to be a matchmaker when we get to Lancaster County.”

“What are you thinking? That your mother and I are hatching a scheme to get you married off this summer?”

“Who knows? I hear you whispering and my name sounds the same in whispers or out loud.”

“Oh, Beck. Hooking you up to an Amish farm boy would be like putting a modern engine in an old Fokker triplane. Why, the stress on the wing struts would tear the plane apart.”