Symphony For Benjamin

Fabienne G. Durdin Symphony for Benjamin !""#$%%&&&'()*+"+',-.,/*'*0" Symphony for Benjamin Fabienne G. Durdin Fabi...

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Fabienne G. Durdin

Symphony for Benjamin

!""#$%%&&&'()*+"+',-.,/*'*0"

Symphony for Benjamin Fabienne G. Durdin

Fabienne G. Durdin Publisher http://www.sonata durdin.net

To John and Susan and Bill and Penny

SYMPHONY FOR BENJAMIN Copyright © 1997, 2000 by Fabienne Gabrielle Durdin

First published 2000 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, posting on another website, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

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Durdin, Fabienne G. Symphony for Benjamin. ISBN 0 9577741 2 5. I. Title. A823.3

Published by Fabienne G. Durdin <[email protected]> http://www.sonata.durdin.net/symphony.pdf Cover illustration © 1999 by Fabienne G. Durdin.

Jesus told the children to come over to Him, and He said, "Allow these little children to come to me; don't put obstacles in their way. God's Kingdom is for people like them. In fact, believe Me, people who refuse to accept God's Kingdom the way a child does cannot be part of it." LUKE 18: 16, 17

CHAPTER 1 Emma Slades's labour, two weeks early, had started when the Slades had been travelling along that deserted and seemingly endless road in the interior between Worthy and Brown's Reef. Their evangelistic travels around the Federation of Pamanyungan took them periodically to the more remote towns and the inevitable long drives between them. In the late afternoon of this day in February 2044 they had stopped by the side of the road to let six-year-old Helen and Andrew run around to get rid of some excess energy, and to prepare the evening meal. After tea they planned to continue on as far as Brown's Reef, where they would stay in a caravan park for a week. Although the sun was already quite low in the sky by the time they stopped, it was still warm, but a light breeze had come up and made the heat easier to take. Emma decided that they should wait until it was a little cooler before eating. The spot where they had stopped was meant as a roadside parking bay for the infrequent traffic. The road was long, straight, and mostly empty of vehicles, and passed through an empty and unvarying landscape, which meant that drivers frequently became drowsy. The parking bays at fiftykilometre intervals were meant for drivers to use to break their journey and rest. Where the Slades had stopped, besides the parking bay, there was a large grassy area and a water bore with a pump. Small bushes were scattered here and there around the grass. Beyond the rest area the mulga bushland stretched as far as the horizon, without a break. Sometime about seven, Carl Slade was playing with his children, kicking and throwing a ball around, while Emma sat on the step of the camper watching them. She was finding that what she had thought were "practice" contractions had become rather regular, strong, and close together. She looked at her watch and timed the contractions as she sat there. After a while Carl came over to the camper and sat down beside her. "Time for a rest," he said, "I guess we ought to have tea soon. What do you think?" "Carl," she said hesitantly, "I think this is it." He looked at her in surprise, and realised what she meant. "What?" he exclaimed, "You're in labour? Already? Oh, Em, you're barely thirty-eight weeks along!" "I can't help that," she said, "and the pains are three minutes apart already..." As if to prove her words, she had another contraction right then. "Right!" Carl said, slapping his knee and getting up, "Looks like we're staying here tonight." He clapped his hands and called the children. "Helen! Andrew! Come on, there's work to do. Mummy's going to have the baby tonight." The twins retrieved their ball and came running over. Helen flung her arms around her mother's neck, almost winding her. "Tonight, Mummy?" she asked eagerly, "You're having the baby, Mummy?"

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"Mmm-mmm," Emma murmured, and pushed her away gently as she felt another contraction starting. The children clambered past Emma up the step and into the truck. Carl had already gone in and was getting ready their bed and the equipment they would need. He told the children to wash their hands and sit down quietly at the table while he worked. He was thankful now for their friend Jean, a midwife back in the capital, Apmirra. She had taken Emma and him along several times when she went to attend births, after they had mentioned to her that they would continue travelling as long as possible during Emma's pregnancy. "I can't bear the thought of you people wandering around the countryside and not being prepared to deliver your own baby should he have the nerve to be early," Jean had said, "You could be two hundred kilometres from Woopwoop if that happens, and they might not even have a hospital there even if you got there in time—only a pub and a community hall!" She had arranged with several of her "baby people", as she called them, to give Carl a crash course in midwifery by letting Emma and him observe and assist her at the birth of their children. Now here was the emergency Jean had foreseen and for which she had prepared them! They were some two hundred kilometres from Brown's Reef. Although admittedly there was a hospital there—a good one—from what Emma had said about her contractions there was no way they could get there in time for the birth. Her labour for the twins' birth had not been a long one, and Carl didn't expect this one to be longer. He would have to deliver this one himself. As he got things ready, he prayed earnestly. Despite Jean's instructions he was feeling very nervous and somewhat less than competent. He made some sandwiches and poured out some milk for the children's tea and got them eating. He himself was far too nervous to be able to eat anything, but he made a pot of tea for Emma and himself. He went back outside and locked down the stabilizers for the camper, and fetched a bucket of water from the bore. The breeze had died down and it was just beginning to get dark. He helped Emma into the camper and over to their bed. "You sit there a minute while I lock up the cab and close curtains, Em," he said, "I won't be long. I'll turn on the generator, too." Once again he went outside. He switched on the truck's warning lights, locked the cab, and turned on the generator. Then he went back inside, switched on the camper lights, and closed the curtains. "How's it going, Em?" he asked as he washed his hands at the sink. "Getting closer," she grunted as another contraction started to build up. Helen and Andrew had finished eating and were sitting on the end of the bed next to Emma, looking apprehensive. Carl sat down on the bed and drew them onto his knees. "Mummy's baby will be born tonight, twins, that's why she's behaving like that. It's very hard work, and it sometimes hurts her, but you don't have to worry, because God's looking after us. And I'm going to need your help, too. Now let's pray." 2


He prayed quietly, taking hold of Emma's hand until she jerked it away when the next contraction came. When he finished, he told the children to get ready for bed. "We'll all be very tired when this is over," he explained to them, "and it'll be easier if you can just get straight to bed." He got up and put Emma's apron on over his clothes, then drew across the curtain separating the double berth from the rest of the camper. "I'm just going to help Mummy change into her nightie," he told the twins, "You two get some puzzles or drawing books out and sit quietly at the table, please." He went behind the curtain and in between her contractions helped Emma into her nightgown. He managed to give her a hug before the next contraction. "You're doing well, Em," he said encouragingly. "I think they're less than a minute apart now," she gasped when the contraction passed. "Yes, I'd say so, too," Carl agreed as he sat down next to her, "Looks to me like it's going to be an even shorter labour than last time, when you had the twins. And that wasn't all that long!" Emma grinned. "Sh-Shall we sing l-like we did then?" she stammered, then grimaced as she felt another pain coming on. Carl began singing very softly, and Emma tried to join in when her contraction wore off, but she was already too tired from the intensity of her labour, so she just leant against him until the next pain started. Then Carl got up, drew back the curtain, and checked that he had everything ready for the delivery. He kept on singing softly, not only for Emma's sake, but because it calmed him down as well. He was feeling much more nervous than he had at any of the other births he'd witnessed recently. This was their own child, after all, and he was the one who had to deliver it. Jean was hundreds of kilometres away—he couldn't even phone her for advice! The twins worked on their drawings, now and then glancing bemusedly at their mother. Carl's singing had a calming effect on them, too, and at one point he went to them and gave them each a hug and kiss. "Our baby will be born soon," he said to them, "Isn't it exciting?" They looked at him wide-eyed, and nodded. "Will we see the baby when it's born, Daddy?" Helen asked. "Yes, of course you will, and you'll be able to cuddle the baby soon after it's born," Carl replied. "Is it a boy, Daddy?" Andrew asked, "It is, isn't it? It's Benjamin, isn't it, Daddy?" Carl gazed at his son a moment before answering. He knew how much Andrew wanted a brother. "We'll know when the baby's born, Andrew," he answered softly, "Soon." At that moment Emma cried out, and Carl turned to her, then turned back to the children to reassure them before going to her. "Don't worry," he smiled, "Mummy is all right—really, truly." He went to the bed and sat down next to Emma. "What's happening, love?" he asked gently. Emma was panting and didn't answer right away. "Oh, Carl, I feel like pushing already," she said at last in a rush, looking panicky, "It seems awfully soon!" 3


Carl hastily reviewed what Jean had told him about the second stage of labour and what he'd observed at her patients' homes. He prayed silently that he might not make any mistakes, then decided to let Emma bear down if that was what her body was telling her to do. He called to the twins to bring him all the pillows in the camper and began to pile them up behind Emma, who was panting again and looking at him apprehensively over her hands cupped over her mouth and nose. "Emma, go ahead and push on the next one, okay?" he said quietly. She looked relieved and smiled weakly. All of a sudden there was a loud knocking at the door. Carl shot up off the bed and reached the door in two strides. He opened it so suddenly that he almost knocked over the man standing behind it. He grabbed the man's arm and pulled him up the steps. "Come in, come in," he said hurriedly, closing the door behind the man, "You'll have to excuse us—we're having a baby." He left the man standing, astonished, by the door, and went back to Emma. She was bearing down now and her face was so distorted by the effort that the twins looked frightened. Carl hugged the children and smiled at them. "I told you it's hard work," he reminded them, "Mummy's got to push very hard so the baby can come out." He went to the sink and washed his hands again, and made sure he had the cord clamp and scissors ready. At that moment Emma's waters broke and flooded the bed. He grabbed the towels he'd piled up on the shelf by the bed, spread them around to absorb the fluid, and replaced the sheet covering Emma with a dry one. Emma began to bear down again, and Carl, spotting the stranger, called to him. "Don't just stand there, mate," he said, "Give us a hand, will you? Come and support her at the back." He sounded more gruff than he'd intended to. "Wash your hands first," he added. The bewildered visitor did as he was told. He washed his hands then went and sat down on the bed behind Emma. "What do I do?" he asked Carl. "Just let her lean against you when she needs to," Carl replied hurriedly, not looking at him. He patted Emma's foot which was resting against his side. "Next push should have the head out," he said encouragingly. Emma leant back against the visitor, her eyes closed, to recover from the effort of the last contraction. As the next one began, she took a deep breath. "Push hard this time, Em!" Carl encouraged her. She pushed with all the strength she could muster, and the baby's shoulder came out, then the rest of the little body slid out into Carl's hands. Carl gave a whoop, startling Emma, their visitor, and the children. "It's a boy, Em!" he exclaimed delightedly, "It's Benjamin!" Cradling the baby on his arm, he cleared the baby's nose and mouth with the syringe he'd prepared for the purpose. Emma, exhausted, leaned back against their visitor, who was looking over her shoulder at Carl dealing with the baby. Carl was oblivious to them all as he sat on the end of the bed patting the baby. "C'mon, boy, breathe," he muttered, "God, please make him breathe!"

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Emma sat herself up with difficulty to try and see what he was doing, but she was too tired and sank back against the stranger. "Is something wrong?" she asked anxiously. She could feel that the man behind her was very tense. "He's taking his time about breathing," Carl murmured, "C'mon, Benjamin, breathe! Breathe!" The baby's skin was an unhealthy-looking bluish tinge, and he lay limply on his father's arm. He placed his mouth over the baby's nose and mouth and puffed gently. Benjamin coughed and finally let out a weak wail. Carl sighed with relief and hugged the child gently, and Emma felt the man supporting her relax. "Here, Em, hold onto him while I cut his cord," Carl said, placing the baby on her stomach. Emma held onto the child and gently stroked his face with her finger. His colour had improved greatly once he had started breathing. Carl clamped and cut the cord, picked up the baby again and kissed him lightly on his head, and handed him to Emma. "Here you are, Benjamin," he said, "Meet your mother." "Carl, there's another contraction!" Emma gasped, almost throwing the baby back at him. The visitor jumped nervously. "Oh, boy, Em, I forgot—the afterbirth!" Carl exclaimed, and felt momentarily confused, not sure what to do with the baby while he dealt with stage three. He put Benjamin down on the bed next to Emma and told the twins to keep an eye on him but not to touch him. Then he turned to attend to Emma. He looked around, wondering what he should do with the placenta. When he took Emma to a doctor in the morning the doctor would probably want to check it. He caught sight of their visitor with some surprise, for he'd quite forgotten about him. Gesturing towards the cupboards under the sink, he told the man, somewhat roughly, "Look in there and find me a container with a lid that seals, please." The man got up carefully, pushing the pillows back behind Emma to support her, and went to search in the cupboards. He found a container and handed it to Carl. "Thanks," Carl said absently as he took the container and put the placenta in it. Then he handed it back to the man, telling him to put the lid on it and place it in the fridge. "The doctor'll want to see it, tomorrow," he explained. Once again the stranger did as he was told, but he looked at Carl oddly as he did so. Carl didn't notice him, however, for he had turned back to tuck the sheet in around Emma. This done, he got up, washed his hands, and went to sit down next to her. Emma had picked up the baby, wrapped him in a towel, and put him to her breast. Carl put his arm around her and drew her close. He smiled at Helen and Andrew, whose eyes were wide with wonder. They had climbed up on the bed to sit next to their mother and their new little brother. "Is he sucking?" Carl asked his wife. "He's trying to," Emma answered wearily, "His tongue seems to get in the way." She looked up at Carl with a frown. "He seems awfully weak and floppy..." she murmured.

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Carl had glanced up and seen their visitor still standing next to the fridge, watching them with a puzzled expression. "'Scuse me, Em," he said, getting up hurriedly and going over to the man. "I'm sorry," he said, "We've been awfully rude. Uh... won't you have a seat?" He indicated the bench seat, and the man sat down on it slowly, not taking his eyes off him. "That's all right," the man said quietly, "You've been rather busy..." For the first time since he'd arrived, Carl took a good look at him. He was of average height, but stocky and muscular, as if he were used to hard physical work. His face, round and ruddy, was quite sunburnt. He had bluegrey eyes and the permanent squint of someone in the habit of spending all day outdoors. His unruly, short, straw-coloured hair, bleached by the sun, confirmed this impression. His clothing, typical of a farm labourer and in need of a wash, suggested his line of work. Carl was about to say something to him when he suddenly remembered Emma's words of a moment before. "'Scuse me," he said again, and went back to his wife's side. "Let me see that baby," he said, gently taking Benjamin from her. He cradled the baby on his arm and considered him thoughtfully. He certainly seemed more flaccid than the other newborns he'd handled... Except for one. There had been one baby who'd looked and felt like this. Carl felt a pang of apprehension. He gazed at his son's wide-set, slanting eyes and flat nose. He noticed the protruding tongue. He looked at Benjamin's hands and fingers. He remembered the time it had taken before he'd started breathing... His heart skipped a beat as he realised what was wrong. "Emma," he said softly, "I think Benjamin's got Down's Syndrome. Like the Mossman baby." Emma leaned over and examined Benjamin too. After a moment she looked up at Carl, her face white. "I think you're right," she replied slowly. "May I see him?" Carl jumped at the sound of their visitor's voice right next to him. The man had approached them so quietly that he hadn't noticed him. The twins stared at him sleepily from the other side of the bed, and Emma gazed at him with interest. Carl turned and looked up at him. "Of course," he replied. The man sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed at the child in Carl's arms. "He's beautiful," he said softly, "and yes, he's certainly got Down's." Emma and Carl stared at him in astonishment. "How do you know?" Emma asked him. "Our third had Down's," he said sadly, "Clare. She died when she was seven. She had a heart defect—so many of them do. Yes, she had Down's Syndrome. She looked like that when she was born, and she took a long time to breathe. She was very floppy, too, like he is." He looked at them wistfully. "She was a very affectionate child," he added, "We all loved her so much..." Carl gazed at him pensively. After pulling him into the camper he'd hardly given him a thought except to call on his help. At one point he'd reflected that the man was a godsend, but he'd been too preoccupied with the birth to worry any further about him. And now he turns out to have had 6


a child with Down's Syndrome! He realised that he didn't know the man's name, even, nor had he told him theirs. "Excuse me," he said to the man, "I should have introduced us to you." He handed the baby back to Emma. "This is my wife, Emma, and these are our twins, Helen and Andrew. You've met our newest, Benjamin Henry. My name's Carl—Carl Slade." He held out his hand and smiled at the stranger, who shook his hand hesitantly. "Now," he said, "tell us who you are." "You'll probably find this amusing," the man said, although his smile was also hesitant, "but my name's also Benjamin, although I'm usually called Ben. Ben Clark." "Well, we're certainly very pleased to meet you, Ben," Carl said warmly as he shook Ben's hand again, "and I'm very grateful for all your help. Thank you very much for obeying all my orders. And I apologise for speaking to you rather roughly at times." Ben looked uncomfortable and stared at the floor, shuffling his feet. "That's all right," he muttered, "Glad I could help..." Carl wondered at his reaction, but decided they were all tired and this man probably was, too. He stood up and stretched, and Ben got up and moved back to the bench seat. "Ben, you can use the berth next to the door," Carl said, "I'll pass you some sheets for it." He went to the wardrobe and pulled a pair of sheets and a blanket out to hand to Ben. "I hope you don't mind making the bed up yourself." "No worries," Ben said, taking the sheets from him and setting to making up his bed. "Helen, Andrew." Carl said, and clapped his hands, "Time for bed for you two. Give Benjamin back to Mummy, kiss her goodnight and get off to bed." The twins obeyed, and Andrew started to climb into his bunk when Carl pulled him down again. "Wait a minute!" he said, sitting down on the double berth next to Emma and holding Andrew on his lap, "We'd better pray first and thank God for our new baby and for sending us a friend to help and that everything went all right, don't you think?" Helen came to sit next to him, and he put his arm around Emma. He prayed quietly for a few minutes, oblivious to the puzzled look on their visitor's face as he watched them. Then he lifted Andrew up to his berth while Helen climbed into hers. He drew the curtain across in front of the double berth. "Excuse us, please," he said to Ben, "I've got to clean Emma up. Make yourself comfortable, won't you? There's food in the fridge. Make yourself a cup of tea or something." He suddenly remembered the pot of tea he'd prepared earlier. "Uh... You'll have to throw out what's in the pot—it's stone cold." "Okay," Ben said, "Thanks." Carl ran water into a basin, picked up the soap, a washer, and the last dry towel, and disappeared behind the curtain. "I'll give you a wash now, Em," he said, "then you can sit on the chair a few minutes while I change the bedclothes. All right?" "Yes, thank you," Emma said, and smiled at him. She took his hand and kissed it, and gazed up at those blue eyes she loved so much. "You were wonderful, you know, Carl," she said softly. 7


He blushed and leant down to kiss her. "You're the one who was wonderful, Em," he said, "You did all the work." He touched the baby in her arms. "Ben's right—he is beautiful," he added, stroking Benjamin's cheek gently with his finger, "Mmm—not much of a sucking reflex, has he?" He placed his finger on the baby's palm, and Benjamin's hand closed around it. "Benjamin Henry Slade," he whispered, "My son. Andrew's brother. A gift from the Lord." He straightened up. "I wonder how much he weighs." "He's a bit small, I think," Emma replied, "but then he's not full-term. He doesn't look too bad for thirty-eight weeks, really." He took the baby from her and held him in his arms. "Hello, there, little son of mine. I wonder what you think of all this?" He kissed Benjamin's head and gave him back to Emma. "Put him down on the bed for a few minutes. I'd better get you washed before the water gets cold." Carl bathed his wife and helped her into a clean nightgown, then changed the bedding while she sat on the chair next to the bed with Benjamin in her arms. He stuffed all the soiled bedding, towels, and clothing into a basket and pushed it into the corner between the bed and the kitchen cupboards. "I'll find a laundry tomorrow and get all that washed," he said, "after I've taken you to a doctor." He helped Emma back into bed. "I'll just go and turn off the generator, Em, then I'll come to bed." He kissed her forehead, and went out from behind the curtain. Ben was lying on his bed and seemed to be asleep. Carl took a torch out of the cupboard and crept out of the camper. He emptied the basin outside, and switched off the generator, then he went back into the camper, rinsed out the basin and put it away, and went back behind the curtain. He found his pyjamas, turned off the torch, and got changed in the dark. Emma was still awake, and when he got into bed she snuggled up to him with Benjamin in her arms. "Where will Benjamin sleep, Carl?" she whispered. "Oh, Em, I forgot to get a bed ready for him," Carl whispered back. He thought about it for a moment, then got up again, switched on the torch, and went over to the kitchen cupboards. He'd have to use one of the kitchen drawers as a bassinette. A movement by the door caught his attention and he shone the torch in that direction. Ben was standing at the door, his hand on the door handle. "Are you going out?" Carl asked him in surprise. Ben looked non-plussed, and answered uncertainly. "Uh... Just for a minute," he said, "I was trying not to make a noise. Sorry I disturbed you." "Oh, you didn't," Carl assured him, "I was just coming to get one of the drawers so we can use it for the baby to sleep in." He noticed then that Ben was holding his bag. "You weren't leaving, were you?" he asked slowly. Ben looked down at his bag. "I... uh... well..." he stammered, "Actually, yes, I was... I-I don't want to... uh... be in your way..." "You're not in the way at all, Ben," Carl replied, "On the contrary—you're most welcome and it's a pleasure to have you as our guest. Please stay, at least until after breakfast. Though you're welcome to drive into town with us as well, if you want to." 8


Ben hesitated and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Something was clearly bothering him. He stood considering Carl's invitation for some moments. Finally he put his bag down beside the bed. "I'll just go out for a minute," he said quietly, "Thanks for your welcome. I'll stay. At least until after breakfast. Thanks." He smiled briefly, opened the door, and went out. Carl pulled out one of the kitchen drawers, emptied its contents into the one below it, and wiped it clean. He got another sheet out of the wardrobe and lined the drawer with it. Ben came back in and locked the door behind him. "Goodnight, Carl," he said as he lay back down on his bed. "Goodnight, Ben," Carl answered, "See you in the morning." He went back behind the curtain and showed Emma what he had done with the drawer. He put it down on the chair, took Benjamin from Emma, and placed him in the drawer, covering him with the loose end of the sheet. Benjamin was asleep and didn't wake up. Carl walked around to his side of the bed, lay down, turned off the torch, and took Emma in his arms. "I think we can go to sleep now, love," he whispered, "At last." Emma was silent for a moment, then sighed deeply. "Carl," she said softly, her voice shaking, "Benjamin's got Down's Syndrome..." "I know, Em." "D-Do you realise what that m-means, Carl? For him? For us?" She hid her face on his shoulder and started to cry softly. Carl hugged her close, and slowly stroked her hair. "Oh, Em, I do. I do realise what it means," he murmured, "Don't be afraid, Em. God's in this with us. He's given us Benjamin. He loves us and He loves Benjamin and He'll show us the way. Don't be afraid, love." "I'll try, Carl. You help me, please." "I'll help you, Em. I'm in this with you too, you know. Benjamin's my little boy, too."

9

CHAPTER 2 Despite the lateness of the hour when he'd finally gone to sleep, Carl woke up at dawn as usual. Emma was still asleep, but not for long— Benjamin started to cry softly, and she too woke up. "Oh, it's morning," she muttered as she opened her eyes. She turned over and saw that Carl was sitting up on the side of the bed, fully dressed. "Good morning, love," she said sleepily, then added in surprise, "Are you getting up already?" "Yes—I thought I'd go and sit outside for a little while," he replied as he leaned over to kiss her, "Would you like me to hand Benjamin over to you?" "Yes, please," she said, "I guess he wants a feed." Carl walked around to her side of the bed, lifted the baby out of his makeshift bassinette, and considered him with dismay. "Oh, dear," he exclaimed, "I forgot that babies aren't housetrained! Benjamin Henry, you are a mess, my boy, and you're not even half a day old! Em, where have you hidden the nappies, washers, and so on? I have a little cleaning job to do here." He held Benjamin at arm's length while Emma, still half asleep, went to the wardrobe and took out a clean nappy and baby clothes. She spread a mat on the bed and told him to put Benjamin down on it while she put on her dressing gown. "I'll clean him up, Carl, don't worry," she said, "I don't mind it half as much as you do." "I won't say no to such an offer," he said, grinning as he remembered the many times the twins had needed changing at the same time when they were babies, "There's only one of him, so it's not quite the major effort it was with the twins." Benjamin protested weakly at being subjected to having his clothing changed instead of being fed, but Emma didn't take very long to clean him up and dress him. She glanced at the soiled sheet lining the drawer. "Are there any clean sheets left?" she asked Carl. "One or two," he replied, making a mental tally of the sheets he'd used up during the night, "Don't worry, laundering is number two on the priorities list for tomorrow, after getting you to a doctor to be checked out." "Good," Emma said, "Could you please make finding a caravan park with hot showers number three on your list—I would really appreciate getting properly clean! The thought of a hot shower is most appealing right now, and I should think the real thing will be heavenly." She picked up Benjamin, kissed him lightly, and handed him to Carl. "Go say good morning to Daddy," she said, "while I get rid of all this mess." The baby was still crying softly as Carl cradled him in his arms and rocked him gently. He started humming a tune softly, and Benjamin stopped crying and fixed his eyes on his father's. Carl grinned with pleasure. "Well, my boy," he said, "So you like music, do you, little one? Just wait a bit—in a few minutes I'll play my flute for you. I bet you'll like that!"

10


He continued humming softly and rocking Benjamin until Emma had finished tidying up and had cleaned her hands. She came over to him, put her arms around his waist, and leant her cheek on his arm. "Oh, I love you, father of my children," she whispered. Carl smiled warmly at her and kissed her forehead. "I love you too, mother of my children, and most beautiful of women," he whispered back, and moved to hand the baby back to her. "Here—he's calmed down, but I think he just might express some interest if you offer him a feed," he added out loud. "I expect you're right," she answered, a hint of anxiety in her voice, "He hasn't had one since that first one after he was born, and that wasn't terribly successful." She sat down on the bed and made herself comfortable before putting Benjamin to the breast. Carl bent down and kissed her on the cheek again. "I'm going outside for a little while, Em," he said, "Call me if you need anything." He took his flute out of its case and assembled it, and headed for the door. Their visitor was still fast asleep, snoring faintly. Carl gazed at him a moment, something in the back of his mind nudging to get through. Something about Ben Clark bothered him, but he couldn't quite figure out what. After a moment he gave up trying to work it out, shrugged, and went out. A couple of minutes later the sound of the flute floated in through the open window over the sink. Emma noticed that Carl had started by playing her favourite pieces, but she didn't pay attention for long because Benjamin was having trouble feeding and was getting upset about it, which meant that she herself was getting very tense. Her milk would not let down and she felt an increasing mixture of frustration and desperation. She wished Carl would come back to the camper, though she wondered what he could possibly do to amend matters. Finally she got out of bed and, holding Benjamin on one arm, walked around the curtain towards the back of the camper. The first thing she saw as she came out from behind the curtain was their visitor sitting on his bed, his legs drawn up with his arms around them, his chin on his knees, listening intently to the music of the flute. He caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up as she came out. "Oh," she exclaimed, hastily pulling her dressing gown closer around herself, "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten you were here. I-I was just going to get Carl..." "Good morning," Ben said, smiling, "How's little Benjamin doing?" "He won't feed!" Emma's exasperation showed in her tone and, feeling embarrassed at her outburst, she added, somewhat more gently, "He can't suck because he's too weak and his tongue keeps getting in the way and my milk won't come." She felt on the verge of tears but controlled herself. It wasn't his problem, after all. Ben nodded in understanding. "Oh, yes," he said, "Our little Clare had that problem too. I remember she—" 11


"I'll just get my husband," Emma interrupted, and went to the door. She didn't want to be rude, but she needed Carl's advice, not Ben Clark's, right now. She stood in the doorway and called out. "Carl!" she cried, "Please can you come?" Her tone was urgent and Carl stopped playing his flute and hurried to the camper. "What's up, Em?" he asked. "He-He won't feed! I m-mean he can't feed! I-I'm getting desperate—his stupid tongue keeps getting in the way and my milk won't come, and-and—" "Right," Carl said, putting a hand on her arm. He came up into the camper and shut the door as Emma backed away from it to let him in. He nodded and smiled in greeting to Ben, put his flute down on the table, took Emma by the shoulders and led her back to their bed behind the curtain. He sat down on the bed, moved over to make space for Emma beside him, and patted the bed. "Sit down, Em," he said firmly, "Make yourself comfortable, just lean against me, and relax." Emma obeyed and he put his arm around her and gave her a hug. "All right, love," he continued more gently, "Now put this child to your breast and let's see how he performs." Again she did as he said. The baby tried to suckle, but his efforts were weak and, as she'd said, his tongue got in the way. Carl could feel her getting tenser by the second. He prayed silently for wisdom as to how he could help her. Suddenly he looked up at the ceiling and said matter-offactly, "I've always wondered how baby elephants manage to feed from their mothers, with that big trunk of theirs in the way..." Emma gave him a startled glance and burst out laughing at the picture his words had brought to her mind. Her tension eased and she looked up at him in surprise. "Oh, Carl! That did it!" she said, "It worked!" She looked down at Benjamin who was suddenly rather more interested in making the effort to try and suck. He was still having trouble, however, and soon Carl felt Emma begin to tense up again. "Don't get flustered, love," he said very quietly, "Look, he must be getting something—he's swallowing. Just relax. That's it. Let him work it out, Em, he'll get there. It just takes him a bit longer, that's all. This is Benjamin, not Helen, not even Andrew." He hugged her gently and smiled affectionately as she looked up again. "Thank you, Carl," she said softly, "I knew you'd make it all right. You're wonderful." "You're wonderful, my love," he replied, kissing her forehead, "You're very special." He was silent for a few moments, then added, "That's why God has given you a very special baby to look after, Em. He's made you special, and He knows that you're the best mother for Benjamin." Emma listened to him with mixed feelings. She happily basked in the love Carl had for her, but at the same time she wondered what was so wonderful about having given birth to a handicapped child. Hesitantly, she voiced her thoughts to Carl. "Em, every person is special," he answered, "You know what I mean. D'you remember how you once said that every person is a miracle? God 12


made us all, and He knew what He was doing when He allowed Benjamin to have Down's syndrome. He tells us in His Word that a child is a gift, a blessing from Him. He doesn't qualify that, He doesn't say every normal child. Is there such a creature, anyway?" He paused and chuckled in amusement at a thought that had struck him. "Which is the normal child— Helen or Andrew?" "Oh, come on, you know what people mean by 'normal', Carl!" Emma protested. "Don't get me wrong, Em. I'm struggling with this, too. In the end I just have to hold onto God's Word, you know. And when I do, I have peace in my heart about Benjamin. When I let God remind me that Benjamin is a good and perfect gift from Him in His love for us, then it's all right, I can rejoice in his being my son, our baby. You can too, and I know you do, despite everything." He looked down at his wife and saw she had tears running down her cheeks. He kissed her forehead and gently wiped her tears with his hand, and hugged her again. Emma didn't say anything, but snuggled against him and gazed down at her son. Benjamin had finally got the hang of sucking and seemed to be settling happily. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Carl asked after a while, "I think I'll get up and make some." "Yes, please, that would be lovely," she said, and squeezed his hand. "Thank you for encouraging me, Carl." He kissed her on the lips this time. "Anytime, my love. You're always encouraging me, after all." As he came out from behind the curtain, Carl noticed Ben sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands over his face, his shoulders shaking. With astonishment he realised that the man was weeping. He walked over to his bunk. "What's up, mate?" he said, "What's got you upset?" Ben slowly straightened up, sniffed, and sighed deeply. Then he leant his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. He sighed again. "I heard you and your wife," he said hoarsely, "I couldn't help it—I didn't mean to eavesdrop... It's just that it brought back memories." He fell silent again. Carl gazed at him pensively as he moved towards the sink. "Excuse me a tick," he said, "I'll just get the kettle warming up. I promised Emma a cup of tea. Do you drink tea?" Ben looked up at him. "Yes, thanks," he said slowly, "I wouldn't mind a cup of tea." Carl busied himself in filling the kettle with water as he continued talking to their guest. "You know," he said, "you told us your name, that you had three—well, at least three—children, and that the third had Down's syndrome. But that's all we know about you. Tell me, why did you come knocking on our door last night?" Ben seemed to hesitate before answering. "Well... uh..." he said at last, "Yesterday evening I was walking along the road—" "Out here in the middle of nowhere? Where on earth were you going?"

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"I've been going from station to station looking for odd jobs. Sort of a modern-day swaggie, if you will." "But aren't you married?" "Was." Ben spat the word out bitterly. "I see," Carl muttered, and the niggling thought of earlier on suddenly became a full-blown realisation. Oh, my goodness, he thought, not another one... He swallowed hard. "Go on," he urged, "So you were walking along the road..." "Yeah. And as I came around this bend, there was this big camper truck parked on the side of the road. This bloke—you, I guess—came out and fiddled with something on the side of the truck and then I heard the sound of a Genmo. I guessed that you'd turned a generator on. It was dark enough and I was far enough away that you didn't notice me, so I just sat down to wait a while. I decided to wait long enough so that you'd most likely be asleep and I could take you by surprise. I-I mean, you'd be too sleepy, when you opened the door, to react." "React to what?" "This." Ben rummaged in the pocket of his coat which was on the end of the bed. He found what he was looking for and held it out to Carl. "Please take it," he said, and Carl held out his hand for it. He stared for a moment at the weapon Ben had placed in his hand. He looked up at Ben, his blue eyes troubled, then stared again at the gun. It was a palm-size multi-stunner, the sort once used by the Police of the Protectorate, the totalitarian state that had preceded the Federation. Its control switch was set at 'kill'. "What were your intentions, Ben?" he asked softly. "I planned to hijack your truck. I would've made you get out, and I would've driven off with it." "Only when you knocked we weren't asleep..." Ben looked down at the floor and shrugged. "No, you weren't," he muttered. Carl regarded him thoughtfully. "Was there anything else, Ben?" he probed gently. Ben looked up with a start. "Well, yes, actually, yes..." he said in confusion, "Yeah, when you opened the door so suddenly, I, uh, dropped that." He gestured towards Carl's hand. "I retrieved it when I went out. You know, when I said I'd been going to leave but you said to stay." "No, that's not what I meant," Carl said quietly. Ben stared at him a moment, then got up abruptly, picked up his bag, and moved towards the door. Carl leant against the edge of the sink, his arms crossed, and watched him without attempting to stop him. As Ben reached the door he evidently changed his mind for he went back to the bed, put his bag down, and sat down again, heavily. He looked up at Carl a moment before speaking. "I recognized you, Counsellor Slade," he said finally, "after all these years..." Carl closed his eyes. "'Ben Clark,'" he recited, "'after two weeks of Counselling in the Police Counselling Institute, denied the Rebels' God, 14


Jesus Christ, and wholeheartedly embraced the Protection Party. He was released from the Counselling Institute on March the fifth, twenty-thirtytwo, and sent to train as an Enwuh Patrol Officer. Because his wife refused to cooperate with her Counselling and refused to change her ideas, she was sent to the Experimental Farm. Their three children were taken into care by the Welfare Ministry. The youngest, a defective female, was also removed to the Experimental Farm. Officer Clark excelled in his duties as a Neighbour Watchers officer and was especially effective in the placing of reporters in the Rebel groups." He opened his eyes to look at Ben. "That's from your Counselling Institute file," he said glumly. The Protectorate had come to an abrupt end in October 2036, when the leader of the Protection Party and absolute dictator of the country, President Brent Denson, had been arrested by the army in a non-violent coup. A year before that, Carl had turned to Jesus Christ and had been forced to flee across the border to Kawanyama to escape being shot for treason. He had been one of the Chief Police Counsellors, government officials whose job it was to convince non-conformists—"Crooked Thinkers", as they were called— to comply with the official teachings of the Protection Party. To turn such people into "Straight Thinkers" the Counsellors interrogated and lectured their counsellees, emphasising their haranguing when necessary by slapping them and by handing them over to the Institute guards —or Carers—to be tortured. Although when he'd first become a Counsellor Carl had believed that the Protection teachings were the only right ones, as time went by his doubts about them had grown, for he had become increasingly aware of the unresolvable contradictions in them. His last counsellee, Emma Winston, who was a Christian, had witnessed the change in him when, after three weeks of counselling and mistreating her, he had finally sought out her brother, the pastor Jack Winston, who had then led him to Christ. Emma had accompanied him in his flight across the border and eventually had become his wife. The Counsellors had been trained to forget their counsellees once they had finished with them, so that even though Ben had been one of Carl's counsellees, Carl didn't recognise him right away when he met him again. However, as with another of his former counsellees, Henry Smith, a pastor in Goldridge, he found that once something had triggered the memory of who the man was, every dreadful detail of his previous encounters with him had come rushing back. Carl moved over to the table and sat down on the bench seat. "You were one of my more 'successful' —quote, unquote—cases, Ben," he said sadly. "It was you who did that to me," Ben said, his voice still bitter, "You destroyed my faith, you destroyed my family. And then last night..." He lapsed into silence again. "Yes, what about last night?" Carl urged gently. Ben stood up and slapped the tabletop, making it wobble. Carl grabbed his flute as it bounced to the edge. "You went and welcomed me!" Ben said quietly but fiercely, "You didn't recognize me! You didn't see a mortal enemy standing there in your home, you saw someone who could help with the 15


birth of your child!" He took a deep breath, walked over to the sink and looked out of the window. "And the bloke plays the flute, to top it all off!" he muttered. He turned around to face Carl, who was holding his flute across his knees and absent-mindedly playing with its mechanism. He took another deep breath. "I wanted revenge," he continued, "and I saw my chance. Last night, when you stopped me, I was going to put my bag outside, find my stunner..." Again he hesitated. "I-I was going to kill you all, because of the Counselling, because of my wife's death, because of my daughter's death, because I have no idea where my other children are! I couldn't bear the sight of your family when mine was gone because of you!" He paused and stared a moment at Carl, who was looking at him with sadness in his eyes. He couldn't know how heavy Carl's heart was at the thought of the suffering he had caused Ben. "But you stopped me," Ben went on, "You stopped me! I was puzzled because you didn't seem to know who I was. Didn't you recognise me?" Carl shook his head. "No, Ben, I didn't," he said, "There was something about you which bothered me, but I couldn't work out what it was." "Even when I told you my name?" "Not even then." "Well, I mean, I recognised you straight away! At least... Physically you were obviously the same man, anyway. On the other hand, in any other way you didn't seem to be the same man at all! You made me turn from God, back then in the Counselling, yet here you were praying to God after your baby was born... And then the way you treated me! To all intents and purposes I was a stranger to you and yet you welcomed me in the middle of such a private time and you even got me involved! And you invited me to stay, on top of that!" He shrugged and sat down on his bed again. "Ben," Carl said quietly, "I thanked God for sending you to us, remember? I thanked Him because I have absolutely no doubts that He sent you, that He arranged for you to arrive on the scene when you did. Only thing is, I realise now that He brought you here as much for your sake as for ours. I didn't recognise you, despite the fact that there was something familiar about you, until you said that you had been married—past tense. Then it all came back." He gazed silently at his guest for a moment. "Ben," he said shortly, "I can't change the past, though I deeply regret it and I've had to ask God's forgiveness for what I did. Believe me, I'm truly sorry for what I did to you, for what I put you through. I wish I could undo it all, but I can't. Please forgive me." Ben just looked at him without answering. How does one forgive the man who destroyed one's family, one's faith, one's reasons for living? No, he couldn't find it in himself to forgive Carl. Sensing Ben's feelings, Carl didn't press the point. At that moment Emma came out from behind the curtain with Benjamin asleep in her arms. She smiled at Ben and walked over to him. "Would you like to have a cuddle of your namesake, Ben?" she asked him cheerfully. Ben stared at her in surprise. He was well aware that she must have heard the whole of his conversation with Carl. He nodded in reply—he was 16


suddenly incapable of speech—and took the baby from her. He cradled Benjamin in his arms and the baby snuggled up to him in his sleep. Ben's face softened as he gazed down at the infant. "He is a beautiful baby, you know," he said, "Lots of them aren't much to look at, but this one's special. You know, these little ones—with Down's I mean—they're all special , really. You'll see. I got to know rather many of them..." He looked up at Carl and added grimly, "As far as I know, they were all taken to the Experimental Farm. There were more than forty of them..." The colour drained from Carl's face. "All of them?" he whispered. "All of them—like Clare, like my little angel... In the last few years of the Protectorate they were taken there almost as soon as they were born." He turned to Emma. "As an Enwuh officer," he explained, "one of my jobs was to report all births of handicapped children, as well as anyone who became handicapped through illness or accident. Most of the people I reported were taken to the Experimental Farm..." Emma recalled how close she herself had come to being sent there, for refusing to become a Straight Thinker. The descriptions Carl had given her of the place made her shudder every time they came to mind. Had Ben known what happened to people who were sent there? He must have known—a visit to the place would have been part of his Neighbourhood Watchers training. "Didn't you feel guilty?" she asked Ben, "After all, you're a Christian." "Was," Ben corrected. "You are a Christian, Ben," Emma said firmly, "You've just strayed a long way off the path. But Jesus Christ died for you, He called you to Himself, and once you belong to Him, He doesn't let go. You can get back on His path." Without warning, Carl got up and hurried past them out the door. Ben and Emma stared after him, then looked at each other questioningly. "Can I leave Benjamin with you for a minute, please?" Emma asked Ben, "I'd like to go and find out what's wrong, why he rushed out like that." "Yes, that's all right," Ben answered, "I'm happy to hold him. Go ahead." Before she went out, Emma went over to Ben and put a hand on his hand. She looked him in the eye. "Ben, I was Carl's counsellee too..." she said softly. Then she went out of the camper. She looked around but couldn't see her husband. "Carl, where are you?" she called out. "Over here, Em," he replied, "At the front of the truck." She walked over and found him sitting on the front bumper bar of the camper. "What's the matter?" she asked, sitting down beside him and putting her hand on his shoulder, "Why did you rush out like that?" "I was overwhelmed, Em. The thought of little ones like our Benjamin being sent to the Experimental Farm was just so horrifying... And Ben would have been aware, to some extent, of what went on there. And his wife and child were taken there... And all those children, all those people he reported..." He leant over, covering his face with his hands. "Oh, Em, it's so many years ago, now, yet the horror doesn't stop—the Protectorate gets 17


more awful, and I was once part of it, directly involved in all that horror. Oh, poor Ben!" He stayed with his hands over his face for some moments, then suddenly jumped up. "Where's Benjamin?" he exclaimed, "The twins! Did you leave them in there with Ben?" Emma had stood up. "It's all right," she said, putting a hand on his arm, "Really, it is, Carl. Ben isn't a bad man, despite the gun, despite his wanting revenge. I'm quite sure the children are safe with him." Carl looked at her in amazement and sat down again. "Of course, you heard all that, I'd forgotten," he muttered. He took the stunner out of his pocket and stared at it a moment before putting it back. "I'd forgotten you were back there feeding Benjamin... Oh, Em, I never did get you that drink of water or that cup of tea!" "Never mind, I'll have some in a minute. We'd better have breakfast, Carl." "Yes, I have to get you to a doctor, don't I? And that's still a fair drive. All right, come on!" He took her hand and got up, helped her up, and led her back to the camper. As they went in they found a scene which confirmed Emma's words about Ben. He was still sitting on his bed holding Benjamin, but now the twins were with him. Helen, as chirpy as ever, was sitting on his right talking to him about babies and he was listening attentively. On the left, Andrew was leaning quietly against Ben's arm and gently stroking the baby's head. Ben looked up and smiled as Carl and Emma came in the door. "Your children are very friendly," he said, "They don't seem to be shy of strangers at all." Carl picked up the kettle and poured hot water into the teapot. "You're not a stranger, Ben," he said. "Well, not to you," Ben replied, "but to them I am." "No, you're not," Carl insisted, "You helped with Benjamin's birth, you slept in our home, they woke up to find you holding Benjamin. How can you be a stranger? You're family, Ben. You're our brother in the Lord." He got cups out of the cupboard and poured tea into them. "How do you like your tea?" he asked Ben. "Uh... Just black. No sugar. Strong. Please," Ben replied automatically, not sure how he should respond to what Carl had just said. He was family? How could he be part of his enemy's family? Emma took Benjamin from him. "I'd better put him to bed," she said, and went behind the curtain with the baby. She put him into the drawerbassinette, and then got dressed. Carl handed Ben his cup. "Here's your tea, mate," he said, "We'll have breakfast shortly, soon's I've shaved." "What happened to you?" Ben asked him quietly. Carl picked Andrew up and gave him a hug, sat him down on the bench, then took Helen and gave her a hug before putting her down next to her brother. "What do you mean?" he asked Ben.

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"You're just so different from the Counsellor Slade I met back then. Are you really the same person?" "Yes, I'm Carl Slade, who was once a Police Counsellor. And no, I'm not the same person. I'm a Christian now, born again of the Holy Spirit—a new creation, by the grace of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who died and rose again to bring me back to God." "A new creation..." Ben repeated, "Yes. Definitely. You're not at all like the man I remember." Emma came out from behind the curtain and started to prepare breakfast while she drank her tea. The twins helped by setting the table while she cooked some eggs. She gave Ben the job of making toast. Carl had gone back behind the curtain and was using his shaver. Once they'd all had breakfast and tidied up, they prepared to drive on to Brown's Reef. Carl repeated his offer of a ride into town to Ben, who accepted this time. Emma had gone to lie down as soon as she had eaten, and she continued to rest while Carl installed the baby seat in the cab and Ben folded up and secured the twins' and his berth. Helen and Andrew were playing outside. Carl came back into the camper. He pulled back the double berth curtain and fastened it. "Time to get up, Em," he said, "We're about to go." He handed Benjamin to Emma and put the drawer-bed into the wardrobe, then pulled the basket of soiled linen out of the corner. "C'mon, Em, let's go," he said after having checked that all was ready. He picked up the linen basket and took it out to stow it in the cab between the back seats, then went back to lock the camper door. Ben helped the twins into their seats, and Carl took Benjamin and put him into his special infant seat. Emma climbed into the cab and sat down next to Benjamin's seat. Ben was still standing outside, holding his bag. "Where do you want me to sit?" he asked Carl. "In the front passenger seat," Carl said, "Hop in, we're going." "Okay," Ben said, then hesitated and cleared his throat before adding, "By the way, if you drop me off at a laundry, I can see about getting that stuff washed while you take your wife to a doctor..." Carl stared at him in astonishment for an instant, then a warm smile spread on his face. He heard Ben's unspoken "I forgive you" in his offer. "Thank you," he said feelingly, "I think we'll take you up on that, Ben. Thank you very much."

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CHAPTER 3 For the first several kilometres Ben said nothing, then suddenly he broke the silence. "Carl," he said, "Could I ask you something?" Carl didn't take his eyes off the road. "Of course," he answered, "Fire away." "What do you do for a living these days?" Ben asked. "I'm an evangelist," Carl replied simply. Ben wondered if he'd heard right. "You're an evangelist?" he echoed incredulously. "That's right," Carl answered. "You mean you go around preaching the Gospel?" "Yes." Ben was stunned. He turned around and glanced at Emma, but she had her eyes closed and seemed to be sleeping. The twins were staring out of the windows, keeping a lookout for wildlife. Benjamin was still sleeping soundly. He faced the front again and stared through the windscreen at the road ahead. The mulga plain seemed to stretch endlessly all around them and the road continued straight ahead kilometre after kilometre, wet-looking mirages appearing on it in the distance. Now and then a flock of grass parrots shot across the road in front of them, scattering in fright. Ben's thoughts were in a whirl. When he'd first met Carl Slade almost ten years before, he'd been a ruthless Police Counsellor determined to make him deny his Christian faith. Carl had lectured him, had yelled at him, had slapped him countless times, and had handed him over to the Counselling Institute guards to be tortured. After two weeks of this treatment Ben had given in and had turned his back on God. He had been a broken man and had willingly joined the Neighbour Watchers when instructed to do so. He'd taken out his anger and disappointment on the people on whom he'd been assigned to keep an eye, especially those known to be Christians. He'd managed to get an Enwuh spy into Jack Winston's church, and that woman had informed the Counselling Institute of the venues of secret meetings of the church several times. In his two years as an Enwuh Officer, Ben had nursed his desire for revenge against Carl Slade and it had fuelled his own ruthlessness against the victims of his Enwuh duties. Then the Protectorate had fallen and Ben had spent three years in gaol for his Enwuh activities. After his release he had begun his travels around the farming stations as an odd-job man. He'd never expected to come across Carl Slade again, and now that he had he was rather shaken. The man who had made him deny his faith had himself become a Christian. Not only that—it turned out that he was now an evangelist! Carl stole a quick glance at Ben and wondered what he was thinking. He'd decided not to say anything more and to let Ben lead the conversation. As he waited for him to speak, he prayed silently for Ben, for the man to recover his faith and the joy of the Lord. He thanked God for enabling Ben to

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forgive him, for he realised that it must have been a painful step for Ben to take. As if on cue, Ben spoke again. "You know, Carl," he said, "I have forgiven you. I've forgiven you f-for all that, for what you did to me back then, at the Counselling Institute..." "I know, Ben," Carl answered quietly, "Thank you." Ben was startled. "How do you know?" he asked. "You offered to do our washing," Carl replied. So Carl had understood when he'd made his offer to do their washing... Ben gazed at Carl a moment, musing about how their paths had crossed again in such an unexpected way. He thought about Carl's care for his wife as she'd given birth the previous night. He recalled the conversation he'd overheard that morning. And then, with a jolt, he remembered what Emma had told him on her way out to find Carl. After checking that Emma was still asleep, he spoke tentatively. "Carl," he said, "Is it true that Emma was also your counsellee?" "Who told you that?" Carl asked in surprise. "She did, herself." Carl didn't answer right away. He wondered why Emma would have told Ben about that, and decided she must have had a good reason. "Yes, it's true," he said finally, "She was my last counsellee." "How in the world did she come to marry you?" Ben asked, then, looking away, added hastily, "Sorry, I guess it's rather rude to ask you that." "That's all right. I don't mind telling you, Ben, but it's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?" "Yes, I'd like to. I'd like to know how a Police Counsellor became an evangelist and married one of his counsellees; how such a violent person as you were back then has become Benjamin's gentle father. I just find it so incredible!" "God can do the impossible," Carl said quietly, "He did it in me." "Please tell me about it, then," Ben urged. Over the next hour, as they drove on, Carl recounted to Ben how he'd come to faith in Christ, and how Emma and he had escaped to Kawanyama. He told him about their time at Bethany Lodge with the Newmans and about their wedding. He described how he'd been shot the day the Protectorate had ended, and how God had led him into itinerant evangelism. When Carl reached the end of his account, Ben sat in silence, pondering what he'd heard, and was suddenly startled to hear himself speak. "Praise the Lord," he said softly, "Praise the Lord!" Carl glanced at him and grinned. "Amen!" he said loudly. Ben smiled back. "You know, your son did something special this morning," he said. "Andrew? What did he do?" "He came down from his bunk, saw me sitting there with Benjamin, and came over and sat next to me. He looked up at me and he smiled, and then he said, 'Uncle Ben, God does love you, you know.'" Ben's voice faltered as he repeated Andrew's words, and he paused to regain his composure. 21


"That's when I realised," he went on shortly, "that I had no choice but to forgive you. After what your wife said, and then your son comes along and says that to me... That's when I decided there was only one way for me to go—God's way—and that meant I had to forgive you." Ben paused again as he recalled the moment of his decision. "It's funny," he continued, "Once I decided to do that, it was no problem to actually do it. To forgive you, I mean. As if suddenly there had never been such a man as Counsellor Slade. And it occurred to me that the best way to prove that I did forgive you was to help you out in some way. Where you obviously needed help was with all that linen to be washed..." "Thank You, Lord God our Father!" Carl said with feeling, and glanced at Ben again, "Did you say Andrew called you 'Uncle Ben'?" he asked. "Yes, that's what he called me." Carl chuckled. "So why did you tell me you were a stranger, then?" "I don't know. I guess I was still a bit confused." They were now on the outskirts of Brown's Reef, and Carl pulled into a parking bay to switch on the camper truck's navigator. He entered the code for the city and indicated that he wanted to find a public laundry, the general hospital, and a caravan park with a vacancy, in that order. This done, he drove back onto the road and followed the signals to their first destination. "Why are you coming to Brown's Reef—if you don't mind my asking?" Ben asked. "I'm an evangelist," Carl answered, grinning. "You're coming here to preach?" "That's right. We'll stop at a caravan park for a few days and I'll preach in the community park. I've done it before. This is our fourth visit to this town." "They actually let you preach in the park?" "There's a place there where people can go and talk to anyone who cares to sit and listen. That's where I go." "Would you mind if I come and listen to you?" "Not at all. On the contrary, I appreciate moral support." Emma's voice came sleepily from behind Carl. "Are we in Brown's Reef already?" she asked. "Yes," Carl replied, "We're heading for a laundry at the moment. Are you all right?" "Yes, I am," she answered, yawning, "I must have slept all the way." "Well, you needed it, love, after all that work last night," Carl said. "What is it Ben's going to give you moral support for?" "He wants to come and hear me preach." "Yeah," Ben said, "If you tell me what time you'll be at the park, I'll find somewhere to stay and then I'll turn up to listen." "Oh, you can stay with us, Ben," Carl exclaimed, "You don't have to look for somewhere to stay. We've got plenty of room." Ben thought of the cramped confines of the camper which already housed a family of five, and wondered if he'd heard right. "You're kidding," he said, "This truck is barely big enough for your family!" 22


"Carl's not kidding," Emma said, "When he says we have plenty of room he means it. And I agree with him." "Maybe you'd prefer a bit more elbow room, Ben," Carl said, "but if you don't mind such close quarters you're welcome to stay." "Let me think about it while I do the laundry," Ben replied, "and I'll tell you later what I decide." "Fine," Carl said, "And speaking of laundries, here we are." He drove the truck into the carpark and stopped. "Do you still want to do this, Ben?" he asked, "It's not a very pleasant job." "No problem," Ben said, "It's got to be done, and I've got the time. I was going to ask you if you'd like to leave the twins with me..." "You mean while we go to the hospital?" Emma asked. "Yes." "If they're willing, I'm sure it would be all right," Carl said, "Hospital waiting rooms aren't much fun for children." He turned to the twins. "Helen and Andrew," he said, "would you like to help Uncle Ben with the washing?" The twins eagerly answered in the affirmative, and Carl turned thoughtfully to Ben. "Thank you, Ben," he said, looking him in the eye, "We'll take you up on this offer too." Ben smiled, understanding the way Carl had looked at him. "It will be a pleasure to have your children's company," he said, "Thank you." Mentally he added, for trusting me with them. "All right, then," Carl continued, "We'll go on to the hospital and then we'll come back here to collect you folk and the washing after Emma's seen a doctor. I don't know how long we'll be, though. Do you mind?" "If we finish before you get back we'll wait over there," Ben said, indicating a cafe on the nearby corner. "Fine," Carl said, "Out you get, then." Ben climbed out of the cab and pulled out the basket of soiled linen and clothing while Carl helped Helen and Andrew out. Carl gave Ben some money, then crouched down to talk to the twins. "Be good, children, and stay with Uncle Ben," he said, "Mummy and I are going to see a doctor and then we'll be back to pick you up. All right?" "Yes, Daddy," Andrew said. "All right, then, off you go." Ben picked up the basket of clothes and he and the children walked off towards the laundry. Carl stood watching them until they disappeared through the door, then climbed back into the cab. Emma had moved to the front seat. "I hope we're doing the right thing..." she ventured. "We are," Carl assured her, "Ben's fair dinkum. Let's go find that doctor!"

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CHAPTER 4 Brown's Reef Hospital was a large, modern building near the centre of town. It was surrounded by park-like grounds whose greenery offset the harshness of the concrete, steel, and glass of the building and provided a restful place in which patients and their visitors could walk or sit out of the airconditioned sterility of the hospital. The hospital carpark was underground, beneath the wooded gardens. Carl let Emma and Benjamin out at the main entrance to the building and drove off to park the camper. They had arranged to meet in the outpatients' waiting room. Emma walked over to the enquiries desk and asked if it was possible to see an obstetrician without having an appointment. "Just go to Outpatients'," the clerk told her, "They'll give you a number in the queue. You're in luck—it's not very busy today." He glanced at the baby in Emma's arms. "Is that your baby?" he asked, "I'd have thought you were expecting, if you're wanting an obstetrician." "Well—he was born just last night, actually," Emma said, smiling first at Benjamin and then at the clerk, "while we were still out on the road. He came early." "Out on the road? What were— Oh, he was early, was he? Who delivered him?" "My husband." "Oh," the man said, "Uh... well, he seems to have done a good job. You both look okay to me, though I'm no doctor. Still, I see more than my share of sick folk..." He looked solemn for a moment, then caught himself. He smiled and waved towards the lifts. "Outpatients' is on the first floor. Shouldn't have to wait too long." He added cheerfully, "Uh, congratulations, anyway!" "Thank you. Goodbye," Emma said, and headed towards the lifts. On the first floor she followed the signs to the Outpatients appointments desk. She was surprised to see that there were few people in the waiting room, but she didn't mind that, as it meant that she probably wouldn't have long to wait. "Would it be possible for me to see an obstetrician?" she asked the woman behind the counter. "For yourself, is it?" the woman asked without looking up from her compufiler keyboard. "Yes, please," Emma replied, "I've just had a baby—last night—and my husband would like me to be checked out by a doctor." The woman looked up at her in surprise. "You had a baby last night?" she asked, "Why aren't you in the maternity ward? Where was your baby born?" "In our camper. He was early, and we were still out on the road." "Oh. Perhaps you ought to get baby checked out by a paediatrician as well, then, while you're here."

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"That's a good idea," Emma said, "if it's at all possible. I think Benjamin has Down's syndrome." "What?" the woman blurted out, staring at her, "Down's syndrome? How did you manage that? It's entirely preventable!" "Only by termination, by killing the baby," Emma said quietly, "That's against God's law." "They let you get away with that excuse?" the woman said angrily. "Who?" Emma asked. "The doctor who screened you for Down's." "I wasn't screened for Down's." "Oh. You aren't in a high-risk group?" "I don't know." "How old are you?" "Forty-three." "You should have been screened then, and they'd have found out early on." "But they'd have wanted me to have a termination, then." "Of course! No-one wants handicapped babies being born when it can be prevented!" Emma looked down at the baby in her arms. Benjamin was suddenly terribly precious to her, and very much wanted. She recalled Carl calling him special. She looked back at the woman. "Would you have this child killed because he has Down's?" she asked softly. The woman stared back at her. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. She got up and came around to the front of the counter. Emma watched her wonderingly. The woman gazed at Benjamin in silence for some moments. Then she suddenly hurried off down the hall. Emma, surprised, watched her go. Carl arrived and found Emma staring down the hall in the direction in which the woman had gone. "What's happening, Em?" he asked. Emma jumped. She hadn't noticed his arrival. "You gave me a fright," she said, "I don't know what's happening. The woman looked at Benjamin for a bit and then she just rushed off without saying anything." "Have you got an appointment?" "Not yet, but she said it shouldn't be a problem for me to see a doctor, even to see a paediatrician for Benjamin." "Where did she go, then?" "I don't know," Emma replied. Just then they caught sight of the woman coming back. She was accompanied by a bearded man wearing a doctor's uniform. "This is the woman," she said as they reached Emma and Carl. The doctor smiled at Emma. "If you'll come this way, I can see you now," he said. "Can my husband come too?" Emma asked. "Of course," he replied, and introduced himself. "I'm Doctor Helms, Frank Helms. I gather you want a postnatal check, is that right?"

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"Yes, please," Emma replied, "I'm Emma Slade, and this is my husband Carl, and our baby, Benjamin." "Pleased to meet you," Dr. Helms said, shaking hands with them, "Well, come along to my office, then." Dr. Helms was in his late thirties, but his hair and his beard were almost white, contrasting sharply with his hazel eyes. He was of medium height and not heavily built, and the lines around his eyes witnessed to the fact that he smiled a lot. He led them down the hall to his rooms and closed the door behind them as they went in. He indicated some chairs and invited them to sit down as he himself took a seat. "June told me your baby was born last night," he said, "I gather he was early. Where was he born?" "In our camper," Emma replied. "About two hundred k's out of town," Carl added. "Why were you out so far?" the doctor asked. "We were on our way here," Emma replied, "and I went into labour." "How early was the baby? What's his name, by the way?" "Benjamin," Emma said, "He was two weeks early." "Who delivered him, then?" Dr. Helms turned to Carl. "Was it you?" "Yes," Carl replied. "Well, please tell me how it all went," Dr. Helms said, and sat back to listen. Carl gave him an account of Emma's labour, of Benjamin's birth, and of the baby's initial breathing difficulties. Then he handed him the container he'd brought with him from the camper. "I thought you might want to see this," he said. "Ah, yes," Dr. Helms said, "I'm glad you thought of keeping the afterbirth." He got up and took the container to the counter along the wall behind them, emptied the contents onto a tray, examined them, then emptied the tray into the incinerator at one end of the counter. "Looks normal, all there," he said, as he washed his hands and came back to his chair. "June said you think your baby has Down's syndrome," he said to Emma, "What makes you think that?" "He's got all the signs," she replied, holding Benjamin out to him, "See for yourself." Dr. Helms took the baby from her and looked at him carefully. "Yes, you're right, Mrs. Slade," he said after a moment, "He certainly does have Down's. How did this happen?" Emma stared at him incredulously. "He was born like that," she exclaimed, "It's a chromosomal defect that causes it!" "That's not what I mean," the doctor answered, handing Benjamin back to her. He turned his chair and began to type Emma's name into the compufiler on the wall next to him. "How old are you, Mrs. Slade?" he asked. "I'm almost forty-three. I was born in July 2001." "Forty-two years and seven months," he muttered as he typed the information into the machine, "You're in one of the high-risk groups, Mrs. Slade. Why weren't you screened?" 26


"Is it compulsory?" Emma asked. Dr. Helms looked momentarily confused. "Well, uh, no," he replied, "Not yet, anyway." "I wasn't offered screening," Emma said, "probably because my doctor figured there was no point." "What do you mean, 'no point'?" Dr.Helms snapped, "Your baby has Down's, hasn't he?" Emma sighed. "They knew I'd refuse to have a termination," she said quietly. Carl took her hand and squeezed it, and she glanced at him gratefully. "Do you mean to say that you would have willingly carried this baby to term even knowing he had Down's?" Dr. Helms asked in amazement. "Of course!" Emma said, "He can't help it if he has Down's, can he? It's not his fault. Why should anyone want to kill him?" "If it had been caught right at the start it wouldn't have been killing, Mrs. Slade," the doctor asserted. Emma became tense and Carl squeezed her hand again. "Dr. Helms," she said, her voice shaking, "From the moment Benjamin was conceived he was a separate person, a human being in his own right. To terminate him—for whatever reason—would have been murder. God forbids murder." "What does God have to do with it?" Dr. Helms asked, "Are you telling me that your God wants you to let your child live with such a handicap? What kind of quality of life will he have?" "The very best we can give him," Carl said softly. He gazed thoughtfully at the doctor for a moment, then added, "Benjamin has as much right to live in our family as anyone else the Lord might care to send us, Doctor. He is a good and perfect gift from God, and a blessing from Him in His love for us. Benjamin will get as much love and care from us as our other children, for as long as he is with us." "Ah, you have other children, then?" Dr. Helms said, "Are they normal?" With slight amusement Carl remembered his conversation with Emma that morning. "We have twins, a girl and a boy," he said, "I'm not sure which is the one you'd call 'normal'." Dr. Helms gave him a strange look. "What do you mean by that?" he asked suspiciously. "What exactly do you mean by 'normal'?" Carl responded. The doctor stared at him uncomfortably for a moment, then got up and walked over to a chart on the wall and stared at it pensively a while. Then he returned to his seat. "I'd like to suggest something to you, Mr. Slade," he said, "You've upset my world-view in a way that no-one else ever has before. I can't answer your question—at least, I don't think you'd be satisfied with my answer." "So what's your suggestion?" Carl asked, his blue eyes twinkling. Upsetting world-views was part of his job! Dr. Helms smiled. "Would you and your family please have lunch with me today?" he asked, "I'd like to talk with you further. There's a Chinese

27


restaurant just down the street from here, the 'Chungking', and we could meet there about one o'clock. Do you like Chinese food?" "Yes, we do," Emma said, "but I don't know if Ben does." "Uh... I think he's a bit young for solids, Mrs. Slade," Dr. Helms said uncertainly. Emma laughed. "I don't mean Benjamin, I mean the man who's travelling with us," she explained, "His name is Ben. We met him last night." "He helped us with Benjamin's birth," Carl added. "He believes as we do." "Well, he's welcome to come along if he wants to," Dr. Helms said, "Is Benjamin named after him?" "No, it just turned out they have the same name," Emma said, "We'd chosen Benjamin's name before he was born." Dr. Helms nodded. "Is it agreed, then?" he asked, "Shall we meet for lunch?" "Yes, thank you for your invitation," Carl said, "We'll meet you at the Chungking at one o'clock." "Good. Now, I'd better have a look at your wife since that's after all the reason you came here." The examination didn't take long and Emma was soon sitting next to Carl again. After washing his hands, Dr. Helms came back to his seat. "Everything's normal," he said, then paused, looked confused, then grinned at Carl. "See what you've done, Mr. Slade," he said, "I don't know if I'll ever be able to use that word again without stumbling over it!" "I'm sorry," Carl said quietly, "Uh... Why don't you try saying, 'Everything's fine', maybe?" "Yes, everything's fine," Dr. Helms said, "You seem to have done a good job as a midwife. Congratulations." Carl reddened. "Uh... Thank you," he said. "I recommend you get Benjamin checked by a paediatrician while you're here," the doctor added, "I notice he's been asleep the whole time you've been here. When was his last feed?" Emma looked at Carl. "Do you remember?" she asked, "It was very early..." "About five thirty, I think," Carl said, "Not long after dawn." "That's over four hours ago—no, five," Dr. Helms pointed out, "A bit too long for a newborn. When you go out, ask June to send you to Dr. Sorensen." He stood up and saw them to the door. "See you at lunchtime, then," he said, smiling. "Yes, thank you," Emma replied. Carl shook his head and grinned. "See you at one, Frank. My name's Carl and my wife's is Emma." "Right. See you later, Carl." At the appointments desk Emma asked June about seeing Dr. Sorensen. "She's got a patient with her now," June told them, "but she'll be free to see you after that. Just take a seat." Emma looked around the waiting room. "Is it always this quiet here?" she asked. 28


"No, we usually have more patients than this," June replied, "but this week's been unusually quiet. It's just a statistical fluctuation, you might say." "Well, it's certainly very handy for us, as it turned out," Emma said. She went to sit down with Carl, who was holding Benjamin and looking at him with concern. "He's certainly been asleep a long time," he said, "It is a bit worrying." "I expect he'll wake up when the doctor has a look at him," Emma replied, trying to feel as unconcerned as she tried to sound, and succeeding at neither. Carl put an arm around her. "Don't worry, my love," he said, "Benjamin will be all right. Just think of what God has done for him already in the last nine months. Giving him you for his mother, to start with." Emma sighed, and looked up at him with a smile. "You're incorrigible, aren't you?" she said, "Just don't forget who he has for a father, Carl—the most wonderful man in the world!" Carl laughed and hugged her. "See—I told you Benjamin'll be all right!" In a more serious tone he added, "Down's syndrome is not a curse, after all, it's just the way Benjamin is. Our job is to love him and help him live his life to the full, just as we do for the twins. God's in this with us, so we needn't be afraid for Benjamin. Or for the twins, for that matter."

! ! ! As expected, Carl and Emma did not have to wait very long before the paediatrician called them. They followed her to her office and she introduced herself as they walked along. "I am Dr. Sorensen—Elsa Sorensen," she said, her Scandinavian accent confirming Emma's guess as to her origins. "Carl and Emma Slade," Carl said, "and Benjamin, our youngest." Dr. Sorensen was in her thirties, a large-framed but not especially tall woman with wavy blond hair and a cheerful face. She moved briskly, but without giving an impression of busy-ness. She wore her doctor's uniform with the same gracefulness with which she would have carried an evening gown, and her office was full of small touches of her personality, from the layout of the furniture to the colour of the curtain around the examination couch. As they came into her office she gently took Benjamin from Carl and cradled him on one arm as she invited them to sit down. The baby slept on. "Well, what is this little person's name, again?" Dr. Sorensen asked, "He is very new, isn't he?" "Benjamin," Emma replied, "He was born last night." "Does he have a middle name?" "Henry. His full name is Benjamin Henry Slade." Dr. Sorensen, still holding Benjamin, was entering the information into her compufiler as Emma spoke. "And you said he is your youngest child?" she asked.

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"Yes," Carl answered, "He has a sister and a brother, six-year-old twins." "What time was he born last night?" Dr. Sorensen asked. "Uh, about ten o'clock, ten thirty? I don't know exactly," Carl said, "It wasn't a very long labour. I'm afraid I forgot to look at the time—he had a little trouble breathing at first." Dr. Sorensen looked concerned. "How long did he take to breathe?" she asked. "About three minutes, I think," Carl replied. He looked at Emma. "Would you say it was about that, Em?" "Uh... I don't know," Emma said, "It seemed like forever to me!" "Well, yes, it seemed that way to me too," Carl said, "but I don't think it was actually more than three minutes." "Let's say it was three minutes, then," Dr. Sorensen said, "It's probably right. I'll put the time he was born as ten fifteen, all right?" She continued asking questions about the birth and entering the answers into her file for a few minutes. Finally, she stood up and gazed at the baby in her arms. "How long has it been since his last feed?" she asked Emma. "Too long," Emma answered, "More than five hours." Dr. Sorensen carried Benjamin to the couch and lay him down on it. He still didn't wake up. "Do you have a clean nappy for him?" she asked. Emma took a nappy out of her shoulder bag and took it over to her. Carl got up and followed Emma to the couch. They stood together, watching as Dr. Sorensen examined Benjamin. "We will need the clean nappy when I finish, to change him," she said as she undressed the baby. "Well, he certainly likes his sleep, doesn't he?" she remarked, "Even undressing him isn't waking him up!" She stroked the soles of his feet and patted his cheeks, causing him to wriggle, and he finally began to wake up. She examined him carefully, explaining to his parents what she was doing as she went along. Then she wrapped him in a sheet and handed him to Emma. He had started to cry softly. "I think it is a good idea to feed him right now, while he is awake, before we get him dressed again." Carl went back to his chair and Emma moved her chair right next to his and sat down with Benjamin. Carl put his arm around her shoulders and she leant against him as she put the baby to her breast. Benjamin halfheartedly tried to suckle, but once again was defeated by his tongue and his lack of strength. Emma was very aware of the doctor watching her, and she was beginning to feel tense. Carl leant over and whispered in her ear. "Remember baby elephants?" he said mischievously. Emma giggled and this had the desired effect of letting her milk down. Benjamin started to swallow and Emma relaxed against her husband's side. "Thank you, Carl," she whispered. After washing her hands, Dr. Sorensen took a seat near them. "Benjamin is as healthy as can be expected for a child like him," she said, "although he does have a heart murmur which we'll have to keep an eye on. As you

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already know, he has Down's syndrome, which means he'll likely be intellectually handicapped, but to what extent we can't tell as yet." Carl gave Emma a squeeze as he felt her tense up again. She looked up at him and he smiled warmly. "Relax, Em," he whispered, "Don't worry." "No, no, there is no need to worry," Dr. Sorensen agreed, "I can see that he has good parents, and you will be able to provide the stimulation he will need. He has a brother and sister—you can get them to play with him. And you can play with him, too, and sing to him, and so on." She paused as Emma moved Benjamin to her other side and settled him. "There are very few children with Down's—or other handicaps—born nowadays," she went on, "which means that there are no special programmes provided for them anymore. When the special ed programmes were stopped under President Denson, that was the end of them, so you're pretty much on your own, I'm afraid." She paused again as she wondered how to word her next question. "What I can't understand," she said, "is why you have a baby with Down's. I've never heard of a screening that failed to detect the syndrome before." "I wasn't screened for it," Emma said, "In fact, no-one even suggested I should be." "That's very strange—you're certainly in a high-risk group." "But my doctor knew I'd never agree to a termination, so he probably figured there was no point screening me," Emma explained, "He was right, of course. I wouldn't have agreed." "So now you've landed yourself with this burden," Dr. Sorensen said, though not unkindly, "and your poor child will have an inferior life." Emma stared at Dr. Sorensen. She felt like screaming. In less than two hours three people had been upset about Benjamin's birth because he had Down's syndrome. She was becoming aware for the first time, that it wasn't just the Protectioners who'd hated people who were "less than perfect" mentally, but that this attitude was rather widespread. And Benjamin was not even a day old! How much more of this would they encounter in the years to come? Who was it who had decided that people like Benjamin were a burden and had an inferior life? Certainly not her! Carl and she were not about to consider their youngest son a burden, and he was definitely not going to have an inferior life as long as they had anything to say about it! Benjamin, like the twins, was a gift from God—a blessing to them. She was grateful now that Carl had reminded her of that fact, for she realised that she would have to hold on firmly to it in the years ahead. "Dr. Sorensen," she said quietly, "Benjamin is a gift to us from God—a good and perfect gift, because all God's gifts are good and perfect. No matter how difficult it might be to care for him and bring him up, that is a fact. God tells us in His Word that children are a gift from Him—a real blessing! As Carl reminded me this morning, God doesn't limit that to so-called 'normal' children. We intend to do all we can to make sure that Benjamin will have the best possible life, for as long as he lives." She lifted the baby up and pressed his cheek against hers, then handed him to Carl so she could do up her dress.

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Carl stood up, holding Benjamin in his arms, and took him over to the couch. He put the baby down and proceeded to put the clean nappy on him and dress him, all the while humming to him as he'd done earlier that morning. Dr. Sorensen watched him thoughtfully. Although at first she had been rather angry that such a "disaster" as the birth of a Down's baby should have happened, she found herself shaken by the Slades' attitude to it. They obviously did not see Benjamin's birth as a disaster, though it was equally obvious that they were aware of what they were facing in bringing up Benjamin. In all her career she had never come across parents who were so sure that there was no "mistake" involved in their having a handicapped child. She wanted to know more about this family. "Where are your other children?" she asked Emma. "They're with a friend," Emma replied, "He's travelling with us and he offered to do our washing while we came here, and to look after the twins." "Your twins are six years old, you said?" "Yes, Helen and Andrew, a girl and a boy." "Where do you live?" "Normally we live in our camper truck because we travel all over, but we also have a flat in Apmirra." "Oh, why do you travel so much? Is it because of your husband's job? And what about the children's schooling?" "We travel because Carl is an evangelist—he goes from town to town preaching the Gospel. We teach our children ourselves." "Oh. What is the 'Gospel'?" Dr. Sorensen asked, "I have never heard of this." Carl came back to his chair with Benjamin. He had heard Dr. Sorensen's question. "The Gospel is the good news about God reconciling people to Himself through Jesus Christ," he said, "Do you have time? We can explain it to you." "I have other patients to see, now," the doctor answered, glancing at her compufiler screen, "but perhaps we could meet for lunch and you could tell me? There's a Chinese—" "Oh, but we've already agreed to meet Dr. Helms for lunch," Emma interrupted, "Could we get together with you later, maybe?" "You're having lunch with Frank Helms?" Dr. Sorensen said, "Well, that is no problem. Frank is my, uh, partner. We always have lunch together. He will be interested too, I think, maybe. What time are you meeting him?" "At one o'clock, at the 'Chungking'," Carl said, "with Ben and the twins. Ben's the friend who's travelling with us." Dr. Sorensen got up to escort them to the door. "Well, we can all meet at one, then," she said cheerfully. "Fine," Carl said, "We'll see you then." Carl and Emma shook hands with her, and as she went to call her next patient, they walked over to June's desk to ask about paying their bill. June had another look at Benjamin before answering them. "You know, I'd never actually seen a child with Down's syndrome before," she said, "I'd no idea 32


they could be so cute. The ones I've seen in pictures looked quite ugly." She turned to Emma. "Please forgive me for getting angry with you earlier," she said, "It wasn't very nice of me, when I should have been congratulating you on your new baby..." "That's all right, June," Emma smiled, "As you said, you'd never seen a baby like him. You were very helpful, anyway. Thank you." June returned behind the counter and entered something on her compufiler, then handed Emma a plastic token. "Take this down to the accounts office on the ground floor, near the lifts. That's where you pay." They thanked her and said goodbye, and took a lift down to the ground floor. After paying their bill they made their way through the lobby and out of the building. "We've got enough time to go get Ben and the children, take the camper to a caravan park, and then come back to the restaurant," Carl said, "You'll even have time to have that shower!" At the laundry Carl found Ben and the twins just finishing packing the clean washing into the basket. "There was a lot to wash, Daddy!" Helen announced excitedly, "Uncle Ben washed all the sheets and all the towels and all the clothes!" "Thank you very much, Ben," Carl said warmly, "We really appreciate your doing that." "No problem," Ben said, "I had very enjoyable company, too," he added, smiling at Helen and Andrew, "Shall we go have some lunch?" "Not yet," Carl answered as they walked back to the camper, where Emma was waiting with Benjamin, "We'll take the truck to a caravan park first. Emma might even have time to have that shower she's set her heart on! But then we've agreed to meet some folk for lunch at one o'clock. Do you like Chinese food?" "Yes, though I don't often get to eat it," Ben replied, "but if you're meeting other people..." "We told them you're with us and they included you in the invitation," Carl said, "You'll come and give us moral support, won't you?" "Moral support? For a meal?" "The people we're having lunch with are the two doctors we saw this morning. They want to know more about what makes us tick. It seems that I've upset Dr. Helms' world view, and Dr. Sorensen wants to hear about the Gospel." Ben stared at Carl, stunned. "How on earth did you manage that?" he asked. "'God moves in mysterious ways...'" Carl quoted as he helped the twins into the cab, "I didn't manage anything, Ben. I think the Lord arranged it all—even to having an expert on Down's syndrome along, to talk to these doctors who've never dealt with such people before!" "Oh, who's that?" Ben asked. "You, Ben!" Carl replied, clapping him on the shoulder, "Come on, hop in and let's go!"

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CHAPTER 5 It wasn't only Frank Helms and Elsa Sorensen who greeted the Slades and Ben when they arrived at the Chungking Restaurant. June and two other doctors, introduced as Dorothy Watson, surgeon, and Somsay Ng, neurologist, had also joined the lunch party. Dr. Helms led them through the main dining room towards the back of the restaurant. "I've arranged to use the dining room back here," he explained, "that way we can have some privacy and it won't be so noisy." He showed them into a smaller dining room next to the manager's office. "Come on in," he said, standing next to the doorway to let his guests through. Carl squeezed his wife's hand. He had not expected such a large audience and he suddenly felt very nervous. He had already prayed with Emma and Ben before leaving the camper, but now he whispered to her, "Pray, Em." She also squeezed his hand. "I am praying," she whispered back. The private dining room contained a large round table with a lazy-susan in the middle of it, and the guests took their seats around it. June, sitting down next to Emma, asked if she might hold Benjamin for a while. Helen was sitting on the other side of her mother, next to Dr. Ng, and she informed June cheerfully that the baby's name was Benjamin Henry and that he had been born, "Last night when we were in the middle of nowhere". Emma, a little embarrassed by the amusement on everyone's face, told her daughter to speak more softly. She happened to glance at Carl, seated opposite her, and saw that he was grinning from ear to ear, which only added to her embarrassment. Dr. Ng leant over to Emma, smiled enigmatically, and said softly, "Your daughter is very sweet, Mrs. Slade." "Thank you," Emma said uncertainly, "Uh... Excuse me, but I didn't get your name. Could you tell me again, please?" He smiled more broadly. "My name is Somsay Ng. I know it is not easy for you who speak English, but do not worry. Just call me Dr. Somsay." Emma smiled back. "Dr. Somsay," she repeated slowly, "Where are you from, Doctor?" "Ah! My father was from Vietnam, and my mother is Lao, but I was born in Sydney." "Oh. Have you lived here all your life, then?" "No, my family moved to Kawanyama just before President Denson won the election in 2026. Life for us—because of our background, you understand—had become quite difficult anyway, so my father decided we would head north." "Like so many other people in the old Republic did..." "Yes. I was just beginning my residency then, and I had to find a hospital there in Breston that would let me transfer. But we left just in time. Soon after, Mr. Denson closed the borders of the Protectorate."

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Carl was talking with Dr. Watson on his left while showing Andrew, on his right, how to hold chopsticks, and Ben was chatting with Dr. Sorensen. Frank Helms, sitting between June and Dr. Sorensen, ordered the food for all of them. When he had finished ordering, he called Carl and asked him to explain to the whole group why Emma and he were so sure that Benjamin was, as they put it, "a good and perfect gift from God". Carl looked slowly at the people seated around the table. Even the twins were watching him expectantly, and Emma was smiling encouragingly at him. He took his pocket Bible out and turned to Psalm 127. "'Children are a gift from the Lord'," he read, "truly they are a blessing." Then he turned to the letter of James. "Each and every good and perfect gift comes from God, from the Maker of the heavenly lights." Finally, he read from the nineteenth chapter of Matthew's Gospel: "Jesus said, 'Allow these little children to come to Me; don't put obstacles in their way. God's Kingdom is for people like them.'" Then he held up his Bible. "This is a pocket-size edition of the Bible," he said, looking at each of the doctors and at June in turn, "Am I right in guessing that it isn't a book with which you folk are familiar? Have any of you read from the Bible?" All four doctors shook their heads, and June said, "No." "Christians believe that the Bible is the Word of God," he explained, "that is, that God reveals Himself and His plans for us, for His creation, in the Bible. It tells us the truth about God and about people. It tells us of the incredible love of God for us. It tells us about the evil in people which results in their turning away from God." He paused and took a deep breath, then went on, "I read three passages which are among those which form the basis for our statement about Benjamin. There are more, but I won't read them out, because unless, like me, you believe and trust in God, and believe that this is His Word, they won't mean much to you. What I do want to do is to tell you about God, about His love, about sin, about salvation through Jesus Christ. This is what is known as the Gospel, the Good News." He began by telling them about the Creation and the Fall, and from that he went on to summarize the history of the people of Israel, God's Chosen People. As he spoke he occasionally read out relevant verses from his Bible. The food was brought in, and Carl interrupted his talk to let Ben offer thanks to God for the meal. Then, as the guests helped themselves to the rice and various dishes, he continued with the life of Jesus and the history of the early church. Finally, he summarized the Gospel by reading verses from the letters of Paul, James, and Peter. As Carl had been speaking he had warmed to his subject and had forgotten his initial nervousness. He wanted these people to really hear what he was saying, to receive the message of the Gospel and to say "yes" to God. He was aware that both Emma and Ben were praying, and that his audience was very attentive. As he finished up, he also became aware that someone else had come into the room and had been standing just inside the door, also listening. He looked up and saw a short, elderly Chinese man beaming at him.

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"All God's blessings," the man said, and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Dorothy Watson had also noticed the man, and was staring at the door with a puzzled frown. Carl turned to her and asked her if she knew who he was. "He's Mr. Liang," she answered, her tone conveying surprise, "He's the owner and manager of the restaurant." Andrew and Helen had been just as attentive to their father as the adults. Now Andrew sat with his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands, and a faraway look in his eyes, apparently gazing at a watercolour and ink painting of a Chinese scene on the wall near the door. Helen was regarding her father with a puzzled expression. "Daddy," she called suddenly, in her usual loud voice. "Yes, Helen?" Carl replied. "Did Jesus die for me too?" his little daughter asked earnestly, "Am I a sinner too?" All at the table turned to look, first at Helen, then at Carl. "Yes, Helen," he answered quietly, "Like all of us, you're a sinner, and yes, Jesus died for you too." Helen's eyes lit up and she straightened up on her chair. "Oh, I'm so glad," she exclaimed, "That means I can be saved. Because Jesus died for me, I mean." She cocked her head and looked very serious. "Daddy, will I go to heaven?" she asked. "If you belong to Jesus, Helen," Carl said, "yes, you'll go to heaven." His heart was beating so hard he felt sure that everyone must be hearing it. Although his son had turned to Christ at the age of four, as far as he knew, his daughter had not yet done so. He held his breath as he waited for her reaction to his answer. "Oh, Daddy," she said happily, "I do belong to Jesus. If He died for me, to make me new, then I do belong to Him, and I will go to heaven." Carl's felt his heart jump and he stared at Helen in wonder. His daughter's face shone with joy, and he almost expected the room to look lighter as a result. "...and a little child will lead them." The verse from Isaiah came fleetingly to his mind—he was not sure why. He was somewhat in a daze, but he heard Ben whisper, "Praise the Lord!" and saw Emma lean over to hug Helen. June and the doctors had witnessed all this in surprised silence. They, too, were staring at Helen, who seemed quite oblivious to them in her happiness, and Carl wondered what they were thinking. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Thank you, Lord God our Father," he whispered, then silently prayed for his daughter and for their hosts. When he opened his eyes he saw that Dr. Ng and Dr. Watson had traded seats, and Emma had moved to the seat next to Dr. Watson. Helen was now sitting next to June, who was still holding Benjamin, and the two of them were chatting happily about the baby.

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Dorothy Watson turned to Emma. "We all know how your husband feels about this baby," she said, pointing with her chin towards Benjamin, "but tell me, how do you feel about him?" Emma put her hand on Dr. Watson's arm. "I'm Benjamin's mother," she said softly, "He's my child, and he's as precious to me as his brother and sister. God has seen fit to give me Benjamin to raise and I take that as a sign, among others, of His love for me." Thank You, Lord, for Carl's words this morning, she prayed silently. Dr. Watson gazed at Emma and then at the baby for a few moments. She was remembering a day many years before when, as a newly-qualified surgeon, she had assisted with heart surgery on a child with Down's syndrome. The boy had died on the operating table, and the cardiologist had asked her to break the news to the parents anxiously waiting in the patients' lounge. She'd known why the man couldn't face the parents himself—he'd taken it upon himself to cause the boy's death. He'd always made it plain to everyone that he believed that handicapped children, especially the mentally handicapped, should not be allowed to live and "be a burden on society". She recalled the painful dilemma she'd faced—should she report her boss and risk the end of her career, or should she just let the parents continue to believe that the surgeon had done "all he could" for their son? She'd chosen the latter course, and had lived with the guilt ever since. As she saw it now, she'd been an accomplice to murder. The fact that euthanasia was then a common and accepted practice did not assuage her conscience. She had often wondered if anyone else around that operating table had witnessed the careful bloodletting. There had been no post-mortem examination of the boy. If no-one but she had noticed the surgeon's action, then she was now the only person who knew about it. The cardiologist had died—of a heart attack—three years later. The only good thing that had resulted from that experience was that Dorothy from then on was committed as a surgeon to do the utmost to save life. She'd decided, after seeing the distraught parents' reaction to their son's death, that there was no such thing as a life not worth saving. As a consequence she'd become very actively involved in all sorts of philanthropic works, and had moved from Kawanyama after the fall of the Protectorate to help in the restoration of normal life in the new Pamanyungan Federation. Yet her conscience still bothered her, and her silence about the crime still haunted her. She had no idea what had become of the boy's family, so she couldn't tell them, but she found no rest in trying to shrug the matter off. So when Elsa Sorensen had stopped her in the hospital corridor and told her about the Slades and their baby, Dr. Watson had been very interested. She'd asked the younger woman if she could also come to lunch with them, and Dr. Sorensen had said that she'd been hoping she would do just that. Now she hesitantly asked Emma if she could share some thoughts with her, and at Emma's affirmative answer began to tell her of the anguish she'd suffered all those years since the boy's death. "When Elsa—Dr. Sorensen— told me about you and your husband and your baby, I was very keen to meet you," she said finally, "For some reason I felt that you people would be 37


able to help me, and from all that your husband was telling us I think that my feeling was right. Tell me, Mrs. Slade, do you believe as your husband does?" "Oh, yes, Doctor," Emma said warmly, "I believe that Jesus Christ, who is God Himself, died and rose again so that my sins could be forgiven and I might have new life in Him. I believe that He has forgiven my sins, and that He's not only my Saviour and my Redeemer, but also my Lord and Master. I belong to Him, for He bought me with His own blood." Dr. Watson considered Emma's statement a few moments, then leaned closer to her and spoke softly. "Do you think your Jesus Christ, who is God, would forgive me?" she asked, "Would He give me new life, despite what I've done? I can't bear the life I've been living—it's so full and yet so empty. That murder has haunted me for so many years, and the guilt of it only seems to increase, no matter what I do to try and make up for it..." Emma placed her hand on the surgeon's. She thought of how one small black spot can ruin an otherwise beautiful white blouse. All of Dr. Watson's good works put together could not give her peace, for they could not get rid of the sin in her life. Only Jesus Christ could do that. "Dr. Watson," she said, "Do you believe that God is, that He exists, and that He rewards those who seek Him, who long for Him? Do you believe that Jesus Christ is God Himself who became a man and took upon Himself the sin of all humankind? That He died crucified for your sake, and rose from death so that you might be reconciled to God and have eternal life? Do you repent of all the evil in your life?" Dorothy put her hand over Emma's. "After all that Mr. Slade told us and read out to us," she replied quietly, "how could I do otherwise? Those words were words of life, of hope, Mrs. Slade. Now I know I can be free. Yes, Mrs. Slade, I do believe." "Then tell Him, Doctor," Emma said, "Tell God." Dorothy hesitated, but then she closed her eyes and prayed for the first time in her life. "Jesus Christ," she said, "I believe that You are God, I believe that you died for me. Here I am. Please clean me. Please make me new. Please give me Your peace." Emma was still holding her hand, and as Dr. Watson opened her eyes she gave it a squeeze. Dorothy smiled. "I will not look back, now," she said, "He will lead me forward." "Do you have a Bible?" Emma asked her. "No," she said, "Do you know where I can get one?" "We can give you one," Emma said, "A small one. I have some in my bag." She pulled a small book out of her shoulder bag and handed it to Dorothy. "Be sure to read it every day," she said, "That's how you'll learn more about God, and it's usually through His Word that He leads us. Carl knows several of the pastors in Brown's Reef—he can get you in touch with one of them. You'll need the encouragement and friendship of other Christians." "Thank you, Mrs. Slade," Dorothy said, "Thank you very much for helping me find God. Please call me Dorothy."

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"All right, if you call me Emma. We're sisters in Christ now—you're part of God's family."

! ! ! Somsay Ng had been happy to swap places with Dr. Watson, for he wanted very much to ask Carl some questions. He was intrigued by all that Carl had said and read out, for it was vastly different from all that he'd known until then. Although he himself was not a religious man and in fact looked down on religion as a lot of superstitious nonsense, his outlook was nonetheless coloured by his parents' Buddhist beliefs and the Eastern mystical philosophies by which he'd been surrounded at university and at medical school. "Mr. Slade," he said in his quiet and careful manner, "There were two things in particular that you read out of your, uh, Bible, that struck me. I wonder if we could discuss them, please?" Carl turned to give him his full attention. "Yes, of course," he said, "What points were they?" "First was something you read out when you were telling us about the Israelites," the doctor replied, "When you told us about the bush that burned without being destroyed. You said that God was speaking from the fire, and He said, 'I am who I am,' and 'I am has sent."" Carl was surprised at Dr. Ng's retention of the verses. "Yes," he said slowly, "That was when God called Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt." "Yes. Then much later, you were telling us about Jesus Christ and you read out two things He had said. One was, 'Before Abraham was born, I am!' and the other one was, 'I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No-one can come to the Father except through Me.'" "That's right." Dr. Ng leaned a little closer to Carl. "Mr. Slade," he said, "It seems to me that this man Jesus Christ was saying that He is God." Carl was startled by Dr. Ng's understanding. "That is exactly what he was saying," he agreed. "Would the people He was talking to have understood that?" "You bet they did! They wanted to kill Him for saying it!" "They were familiar with the story of Moses and the burning bush, then? They knew about God calling Himself, 'I am'?" "The Jews have always been very familiar with their history, Dr. Ng. The people that Jesus was addressing were no exception." "Ah. Well, now, this God of the Jews, is He the same God you believe in, Mr. Slade?" "Yes, He is." Dr. Ng became silent and was pensive for a few moments. Carl watched him and wondered what he was thinking. The man's face did not betray where his train of thought was leading. "Your God, then," he said at last, "who is also the Jewish God, is a Being much greater than anyone or

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anything, who is outside of time, who knows everything, who is all-powerful, who made everything there is." He counted off each attribute on his fingers as he spoke. "That is what I understand from what you said and read out. And both you and the Jews think of this God as a Person, as a Father?" "Yes," Carl replied, "That is the God of the Jews and the Christians. That is God. That is the only true and living God." "Uh... Well, so your Bible says, Mr. Slade," Dr. Ng said slowly, "At least, so I understand it to say..." He lapsed into silence, uncertain as to how to continue. Carl waited, saying nothing, as Dr. Ng considered what had been said. Both men had quite forgotten about the food on their plates. Somsay Ng had lived all his life reckoning without such a Being as an allpowerful God. Early on, while still in his teens, he'd decided that his parents' Buddhism was not for him. As far as he could tell, it locked them into a dead-end of fatalistic acceptance of whatever life brought. He'd watched his mother spend incredible amounts of money on incense, candles, goldleaf, and offerings of all sorts for the monks at the local temple, all to no purpose that he could see. As a child he'd resented the fact that the monks got the best of everything while he and his brothers and sisters had to go without because his mother did not have enough money left after all her religious duties had been carried out. His father, a fairly successful grocer, had one day got it into his head that he should spend the rest of his days trying to achieve Nirvana, had left his wife to cope as best she could with her seven children and the business, and had entered the monkhood. Somsay had often wondered how his mother had felt each morning as she joined the women bringing alms to the group of monks which now included her husband, but he'd never dared to ask her and she'd never said a word about it. Early one morning when Somsay was sixteen, the monks were on their alms round when they were attacked by an angry xenophobic mob who massacred them. Somsay, as the eldest son, had been required by his relatives to become a monk for the duration of his father's funeral. With his head shaved, he'd had great difficulty coping with his schoolmates' teasing in the ensuing weeks, and that was when he'd finally turned from his family's beliefs. He'd never missed them. His mother had done remarkably well with the grocery business, and had pushed her children to excel at their studies. All seven of them had graduated from university with honours, and four of them were medical specialists. Somsay was the only one of them who had returned to the country of his birth—his brothers and sisters remained in Kawanyama. When his mother passed the business on to one of his younger brothers, Somsay had asked her to come and live with him and his wife and their two children, and she had come because he was her eldest son, despite what she saw as his betrayal of his religion. During his university and medical school days, Somsay Ng had laughed, but not unkindly, at those who pressed him to adopt, first New Age, and then, Protection teachings. As far as he could see, they were not only just 40


another version of the Buddhism he'd rejected, but they entailed a great deal of what he saw as unnecessary ritual and intrigue. He preferred to pursue material comforts and success in his career, and at this he was eminently effective. He excelled as a student, as a resident, in private practice, and finally as head of the Neurology Department at Brown's Reef University Hospital. His personal charm had all along won him the hearts of fellowstudents, teachers, and colleagues alike. Almost everyone liked Somsay Ng, whether they worked with him or were treated by him. He'd married a pretty and clever Vietnamese nurse, and their two children were at the top of their classes at school. Dr. Somsay Ng had felt that he "had it made", that life couldn't be any better... But that was only until his wife had become pregnant for the third time and screening had revealed a chromosomal defect in the foetus. Termination had been recommended, and they'd followed her doctor's advice. Kim had taken it very hard, and had gone into deep depression. When an acquaintance had pointed out to her that pregnancy screenings were not entirely reliable but that doctors took a "better safe than sorry" attitude towards termination, she'd even tried to kill herself. Somsay hadn't known what to do—he was very much aware that no medical tests were one hundred percent reliable. Doubt had begun to gnaw at him too—might their baby have been normal after all? But he hadn't talked to anyone about it, and had done what he could to help his wife face each new day. Then a few hours ago, after his last patient for the morning had left, he'd gone to June's desk to ask her about his afternoon appointments. While he was going through the list, Frank Helms had come over and asked June if she would like to join him and Dr. Sorensen for lunch with the Slades. He'd explained that they had asked Carl to tell them more about the reasons for their unusual attitude towards their Down's syndrome baby. Somsay had looked up and asked him who the Slades were, and when Frank had finished telling him, had asked if he might also join them for lunch. "Of course! Why not?" Frank had said, "The more, the merrier!" Now Dr. Ng cleared his throat and looked at Carl. "Mr. Slade," he said, "For most of my life I have not thought much about whether there is such a thing as God or not. My parents were Buddhists, and when I was a youth I rejected that religion and anything else like it that came my way. You know—New Age, Protection, and so on. I did not feel the need for, nor did I even believe in, the spiritual. I'd done well in my studies. I have a very successful career, good money, a pretty wife, bright children. What more did I need? Happiness was assured." He grimaced, and went on to tell Carl about his wife's abortion and its aftermath. "So you see," he said finally, "I couldn't help but be interested when June and Frank told me that your wife's doctor had not bothered to screen her because he knew she would refuse to terminate. And so your baby has Down's. I had to find out why your wife would refuse a termination. I wanted to know why you are not devastated about having a handicapped child. I was shocked when Frank said you consider your child to be a gift from God!" "Have your questions been answered yet, then?" Carl asked. 41


"Those questions, yes, mostly," Somsay replied, "Only, the answers have given rise to more questions, about an area which I have ignored most of my life. Mr. Slade, as I noted earlier, this Jesus Christ you told us about claimed that He was God—the only true and living God, as you put it. Now, as I see it, either the man was insane—delusions of grandeur and all that— or He was telling the truth. That sort of claim would have had terrible consequences, I should think, because from what I know of the Jewish religion they have some very firm ideas about their God. And as you showed us, it did have awful consequences, since He was crucified. Surely He would have been aware of that risk, no?" "He certainly was," Carl said, "As far as the Jews were concerned, Jesus was committing the worst of crimes, blasphemy, and that was punishable by death." "I do not know this word, 'blasphemy', but I suppose it is something like slander, is it?" "Similar, yes, but directed against God. Blasphemy is insulting God." "Well, only an insane man or One who was quite sure of Who He was would have dared to say what Jesus did, then. Is that not so?" "Quite right," Carl agreed. What is this man leading to? he thought, and prayed that Dr. Ng was headed in the right direction, that is, towards God. "Mr. Slade, I would like to read that book, the Bible," the doctor said, "Do you know where I can get a copy?" "I can give you one, Doctor," Carl said, "My wife has some pocket editions in her bag." "You see," Dr. Ng went on, "I cannot just dismiss this Jesus Christ the way I dismissed Buddha. That is because of His claims. If His claims are true, then there is no choice—I must give Him my entire allegiance. One cannot afford to be against God who is all-powerful." He paused, then added, more softly, "One cannot afford to reject the love of such a God who dies for one's sins..." He straightened up and leaned back on his chair. "You see, Mr. Slade, you and your wife have shown me that God exists. Firstly, by what you told us earlier. Secondly, by your attitude to your new baby. So, I am sure there must be such a God as you believe in. It is strange, I know. This morning I did not know, and I did not care. Now I am sure. However, if this Jesus Christ really is God, then there are certain serious implications for me. I must know more. That is why I want to read the Bible." "Doctor, it is a matter of life and death," Carl said quietly, "May I suggest that you try just taking Jesus Christ at His word and trusting Him to prove it to you once you've taken that step of faith? As a doctor you must understand that sort of step, I think." Dr. Ng considered Carl's suggestion. "Ah. I think I see what you mean," he said after a moment, "It is like the patient with the brain tumour who has to trust me when I tell him that removing the tumour will mean that he will be well again." He pushed his chair back slowly, as if about to get up from it. "You will have to excuse me, Mr. Slade," he said, "I need to think about this. I will go for a short walk, all right?"

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Carl had found Somsay's comparison intriguing. "Yes, of course," he replied. Dr. Ng got up slowly from his chair, made his way carefully around the table, and left the room. Carl watched him leave and prayed silently that God might get through to him. He looked at the others around the table. They were all deep in conversation—Emma with Dr. Watson, Ben with Dr. Helms and Dr. Sorensen. Andrew had gone over to his sister and the two of them were chatting happily with June. He looked down at his plate and realised he had yet to touch his food, and decided to have something to eat while he waited for Somsay Ng to return. The neurologist came back to his seat some ten minutes later. He was smiling as he sat down. Carl put his chopsticks down and waited for him to speak. "Mr. Slade," Dr. Ng said, "I met Mr. Liang just as I was leaving the room, and he invited me into his office. I did not go for a walk as I had intended to. But now I have taken that step of faith. Yes, I decided that I would trust Jesus Christ. Mr. Liang reminded me of how your little girl just took Jesus at His word—what you suggested I should do. She just believed. He died for her, therefore she is safe. And now I am safe too, Mr. Slade. I believe that He is God and that He died for me." Carl felt like jumping up to cheer and to yell praises to God. He did neither. Instead, he said quietly, "Doctor Ng, that is one step that you will never have cause to regret taking. It's like your patient who's decided to let you remove that tumour and who trusts that all will be well because you know your job, despite the pain of the incision and the cost of the operation. Thank God for Mr. Liang!" Dr. Ng patted his shoulder. "Yes, indeed, and for you, too, Mr. Slade," he said, grinning. Carl leant across the table and asked Emma to pass him one of the small Bibles. She handed it across and he opened it to the New Testament and gave it to Dr. Ng. "I suggest that you start by reading the Gospels," he said, "but I'd also like to get you in touch with other Christians, because you'll need their friendship and encouragement." "Ah, yes," Dr. Ng said, smiling broadly, "Mr. Liang has invited me and my wife to go with him to his church, so I do not think you need to worry. But now, I would also like to invite you and your family to my home. Would you come, tomorrow night, maybe?" "We'll be very happy to come, Doctor," Carl said. "Well, then, come for tea, about six-thirty, all right? And bring your friend, too." "Thank you very much, Doctor. We'll do that." The doctor gave him a small card. "Good," he said, "Here is my address. I will see you tomorrow night, then. And now, please excuse me, I will go back to Mr. Liang." Once more he rose from his chair, and this time he took his plate of food. He bowed slightly to Carl, made his way around the table, and left the room.

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CHAPTER 6 Frank Helms and Elsa Sorensen had both engaged Ben in conversation almost as soon as the food had been ordered. They were curious about his relationship to Carl and Emma's family. "Mr. Clark," Dr. Sorensen asked, "how long have you known the Slades?" Ben found the question difficult, and hesitated before answering it. He decided not to mention that he'd actually known one member of the family somewhat longer than he'd known the others. The Slades—the family—he'd only met the previous night, after all. "I met them for the first time last night," he said, "around nine thirty. I was walking down the road when I came to their camper which was stopped in one of those parking bays on the side of the road." Dr. Sorensen remembered Carl telling her that the baby had been born at about ten o'clock. So Ben Clark must have arrived at the Slades' camper when Emma was well and truly in labour! What a time for a visitor! "Mrs. Slade must have been just about to give birth when you landed on them," she exclaimed, "What did you do?" "Uh... Carl asked me to help," Ben replied. "What?" Dr. Helms said, "You, a total stranger, drop in without warning, and he asks you to help?" "Well, he was, uh, a bit harassed, I think," Ben said, "I mean, there they are, in the camper—which isn't very big, really—and the twins were sitting at the table looking a bit scared, and Carl had rushed to the door, pulled me up the steps into the camper, shut the door, and rushed back to his wife. Oh, he did stop and explain to the kids what was going on, to reassure them. But Emma was already bearing down, you know, and Carl yells at me to help instead of just standing there. He told me to sit behind her and support her." "And you did as you were told," Dr. Helms declared. "Of course!" Ben exclaimed, "Wouldn't you?" Dr. Sorensen laughed. "No," she said, "He'd probably take over! He's an obstetrician, after all." Dr. Helms was considering Ben with a frown. "From what they told me," he said slowly, "the Slades were stopped on the road some two hundred or so kilometres from here. That's pretty much the middle of nowhere, as their little girl said. What were you doing out there, on foot?" "I work at odd jobs on farms and stations," Ben replied uncomfortably, "I was on my way between jobs." Dr. Helms noticed Ben's discomfort. "So you saw the camper there on the side of the road and you wondered if the occupants would be willing to put you up for the night?" he asked. "Uh... Well... Not exactly," Ben said slowly, "My goal wasn't quite as honourable as that..."

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Dr. Sorensen was surprised by his choice of words. "What was your goal, then,?" she asked. "I, uh, I was planning to hijack the camper," Ben admitted. "To hijack their camper!" Dr. Sorensen exclaimed, "You must have got the shock of your life! Getting pulled up into the camper and being asked to assist at a birth!" That's putting it mildly, Ben thought to himself, only the shock was not caused by Carl's request but by suddenly being face-to-face with Counsellor Slade again after all those years. "I was taken aback," he said, "but I figured I might as well help since I was there. And anyway, I'd dropped my weapon outside the camper when he opened the door so suddenly. I couldn't very well go and retrieve it and try again!" "No..." Elsa Sorensen murmured, "you couldn't do that, of course..." "Then when the baby was born and he wouldn't breathe it brought back such a rush of memories," Ben continued, "because you see, that's what had happened when our third child was born. And she had Down's too. So I found myself sitting there with Emma leaning against me, wanting like blazes for this baby to breathe, and quite forgetting who Carl was—" Ben stopped suddenly as he realized what he'd said. "Do you mean you forgot that you'd planned to steal their camper?" Frank Helms asked. "Uh... No, not that." Ben wished Dr. Helms hadn't been paying quite such good attention. He ought to be a lawyer, not a doctor, he thought. But now, how to extricate oneself from this awkward turn in the conversation without telling them about Carl's past? And then Ben thought, and why not? Why shouldn't they know about Carl's past? They wanted to know more about God, about the Gospel— wasn't Carl a wonderful example of what God can do? He decided to tell them. He hoped Carl wouldn't mind. "All right," he said, "Let me explain it to you. Do you know anything about the Police Counselling Institute in Denson's Protectorate? Dr. Helms wondered at this turn in the conversation. "Uh, yes," he answered slowly. "Wasn't it a place where they sent people who didn't fit in?" Dr. Sorensen asked, "Who were against the Protectioners? To make them conform to the Protectioners' way of living?" "Uh, well, yes," Ben said, "only it was more like a prison. They tortured these people until they conformed. I know, because I was taken there. I was one of their counsellees, because I was a Christian. So was my wife—but she refused to deny her faith, so she was sent to the Experimental Farm. That was a biological research—" "Yes, I've heard of it," Dr. Helms said hurriedly. Ben gave him a strange look. He's obviously heard a great deal about it, he thought. He went on. "Well, our third child was sent there too, because she was handicapped," he explained, "That was Clare, who had Down's Syndrome. With me, unfortunately, their programme succeeded—I turned from God and I even gladly went to work in their secret police, the Enwuh. 45


But I vowed to myself that if I ever came across the man—the Counsellor— who'd done this to me, who'd handed me over to the torturers, I would kill him." Ben paused a moment as he recalled the strength of his desire for revenge. Then he continued, very soberly. "When I did finally come across him, ten years later," he said, "I was staggered." He glanced over at Carl, and Frank Helms followed his look, then turned back to look at him. Carl Slade? he asked silently, raising his eyebrows and pointing with his chin at Carl. Ben nodded. "When Carl opened the door last night," he said, "and pulled me up the steps—'Come in, come in,' he said—I recognized him straight away. Of all the people I might have encountered out there 'in the middle of nowhere', I had to run into Counsellor Slade! He didn't seem to recognize me at all. He just left me there by the door—'Excuse me, we're having a baby,' he said—and promptly forgot about me until a few minutes later he happened to look up, saw me, and yelled at me to come and help! It was almost an automatic reflex to obey him, even after all this time. That's how deeply the Counselling sessions had affected me. I was still afraid of him. After that I became increasingly confused as he obviously didn't know who I was, and he seemed so different from what I remembered. The way he looked after his wife and then the baby, his gentleness with their other children, and even his behaviour towards me... I was beginning to think it wasn't Counsellor Slade at all, just someone who looked like him. He even prayed after the birth. But then they realized Benjamin had Down's and I had a look at him and confirmed it. That's when he introduced himself and his family. Then I knew—it was the same man, it really was Carl Slade. I was feeling really quite confused, by that stage. But then later, when we'd all gone to bed, when the lights were out, all these memories of what I'd been through came rushing back, and I remembered that it was Counsellor Slade who'd made me go through all that. He'd been part of the system that had killed my wife and child and taken away my other children, and once again I was filled with hate for the man, and with jealousy. How dare he be happily married! How dare he be able to enjoy his children!" Ben looked angry as he repeated aloud the thoughts that had gone through his mind the previous night, but he didn't feel angry—he only felt amazed at the events that had followed those thoughts. "I decided to go out and retrieve my multi-stunner and kill the lot of them," he went on, "so I got up quietly and was about to go out the door when Carl came out from his side of the camper and saw me. He asked if I was leaving, and then he persuaded me to stay the night and have breakfast with them." "I was bewildered. As far as he was concerned, it seemed, I was a complete stranger. Yet here he was inviting me to stay in their home with them. He welcomed me, not knowing a thing about me—or so he thought at that point. He was prepared to trust me without knowing whether I was trustworthy! I did go out and pick up my weapon, but when I got back into the camper I couldn't go through with what I'd planned. I even found that I was beginning to like the fellow! And then in the morning—it was something I said that did it—he finally recognised me. He even quoted from my file. I admitted to him what I'd been going to do, and gave him the weapon. He 46


said he was really sorry for what he'd done to me, and asked me to forgive him. But I couldn't do it, I couldn't forgive him. Not until a little while later, that is, when they trusted me with their children, when Andrew called me Uncle Ben, and when Emma told me she'd once been his counsellee too." Dr. Sorensen had been listening to Ben very attentively. "What was this Counsellor Slade like," she asked, "that he was so different from what Carl is like now?" "He was a violent man—he'd lose his temper at the least little thing, constantly," Ben replied, "I lost count of the number of times he slapped me, and when he'd get to the end of his tether he'd call the Carer in to take me to the so-called 'treatment' room. It got to the point where I hated the sound of his voice, even after I gave in and agreed to all that Protection stuff. Perhaps especially then." Frank and Elsa both looked over at Carl a moment, then back at Ben. "You're sure he's the same man as your Counsellor?" Frank asked dubiously. "Absolutely," Ben said, "And so is he!" "But Carl Slade certainly does not fit your description of Counsellor Slade," Elsa said. "I told you he's different," Ben said, "Like he told me this morning, he's the same man, but not the same person. God changed him. He changed him incredibly. It's like night and day." "And you were a counsellee of his?" Frank said, in a tone that did not expect an answer. "Yeah..." Ben replied slowly, "You know, he's been through some awfully difficult experiences in the last seven years. His best friend was killed because he'd helped them escape the Protectorate. He himself was shot by a firing squad, but by a miracle he wasn't killed. He was paralysed for months as a result, though. And now, he and Emma have just had a handicapped child landed on them... Yet he has no bitterness, no fear, no anger." "How do you know about all this?" Elsa asked, "I mean, apart from the baby, obviously." "He told me about it on our way into town this morning," Ben replied. Frank Helms was pondering another statement of Ben's. "Mr. Clark," he said quietly. Ben turned to him. "Yes?" he replied. "Did I hear you say that Carl's wife was also a counsellee of his?" Frank asked. "Yes, you did. She was," Ben said, "She was his counsellee and she suffered at his hands, and she forgave him. Actually, it's rather obvious that she forgave him, isn't it?" "Uh, it certainly is," Frank said slowly, "That is, if she was treated the way you were." "Which she undoubtedly was," Ben said, "Only, she didn't give in, she clung to her faith. And she forgave him even before he asked her to." "How could she do that?"

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"She asked God to enable her to forgive him. In the end, it was God who made me able to forgive him, too." "Oh," Elsa said, "So you have forgiven him too?" Ben raised his eyebrows. "Well, I don't think I'd be here if I hadn't, do you?" he asked. "I suppose not..." "I can't get over it," Frank muttered, "She forgave him and she even married him..." "From the little I've seen of them, they seem to me to be very close, too," Elsa remarked. "They are," Ben agreed, "They love each other very deeply. There's no doubt their love is a miracle, when you know about the counselling sessions. It's a direct result of their love for God, as is their attitude towards Benjamin. It's their love for God, for each other, for their children—and for me—that told me that God is real, that enabled me to turn back to God this morning." "But they say that Benjamin is a good and perfect gift from God," Frank said, "and yet he's obviously not perfect, he's handicapped. How can you— and they—believe in a God who gives such gifts? Or who allows such things as the Counselling Institute, I might add." "All of God's gifts to his children," Ben replied, "that is, those who have surrendered to Jesus Christ—are good and perfect, because all that God does in His children's lives, or that He allows in their lives, is for their good, to make them more and more like Christ, holy and perfect. And this can include a great deal of suffering." Ben stopped abruptly, amazed at his own words. He realised that he might as well have said that the "counselling" he'd gone through, the loss of his family, and the horror of serving in the Enwuh had been good and perfect gifts from God! The thought was so incredible that he temporarily forgot about Dr. Helms and Dr. Sorensen. He stared unseeing at the table as he thought back to his feelings that morning when he'd finally been able to forgive Carl, to the joy that had filled his heart when he'd taken that step and offered to do the Slades' washing. He'd been once more at peace with God after that, and he'd somehow known that his own crimes as an Enwuh officer had been forgiven. Looking back over the hours since he'd confessed his intentions to Carl and surrendered his stunner, he realised that a renewal of his faith had started then, and that his faith was now, only a few hours later, stronger than it had ever been before. While Ben had been lost in thought, Frank and Elsa had been pondering all that had been said. As Ben came out of his reverie and sat up in his chair, Frank looked at his watch. "Mr. Clark," he said, "The thing that stands out most in this conversation we've been having is that we keep coming back to the question of God. Until today, I must admit that I'd never given God—or religion, really—much thought. From the little I'd come across—you know, in the media, in conversations, and so on—I'd got the distinct impression that it was all myths and escapism, and I wasn't terribly interested. I suppose that might have been because I never felt challenged 48


by any of it. It just wasn't relevant. And then Carl comes along and in the matter of a few minutes has me quite confused about things I thought I was quite sure about. We've run out of time now—we have to get back to the hospital—but I would very much like to know more about your God, about what you people believe. Could we possibly meet again and talk about this?" "Yes, of course," Ben said, "When would you like to get together? I think we're in town for a few days." "Well, why don't you come over for tea, say, tomorrow night? I could come and pick you up. Where are you staying?" Ben was conscious that he hadn't yet told Carl that he'd like to accept his invitation to stay with him and his family. "Uh, I'm staying with the Slades," he replied, "at the Brown's Reef Caravan Park. Do you know where that is?" "Oh, yes, no worries," Dr. Helms said, "All right, then, I'll pick you up around six tomorrow night."

! ! ! June Morris had sat down next to Emma, but then Dr. Watson had asked Emma if she could talk with her, and Emma had swapped seats with Helen, who ended up sitting next to June. The little girl's response to her father's talk had intrigued June, so she didn't mind, and decided to have a chat with Helen. Although she was well into her thirties, June had no children, even though she'd been married for over ten years. At this time she and her husband were separated, and it seemed that the separation might be permanent, for both of them were involved in other relationships. For some reason that neither June nor Joshua could discover, however, they were both reluctant to actually divorce, and this was a situation which left June feeling very insecure in almost every area of her life. When Emma had approached the outpatients desk that morning, June had just assumed this was another routine patient visit. That Emma's baby had Down's Syndrome had been such a shock to her, who'd never come across such a baby before, that at first she'd no idea what to do about Emma's request. Then later on, when Frank Helms had invited her to join him and the other doctors for lunch with the Slades, she'd eagerly accepted the opportunity to find out more about this unusual family. To June's surprise, it was Helen who opened the conversation with her. She looked up at June happily. "Do you belong to Jesus?" she asked eagerly, in her characteristic direct way. June smiled but avoided answering the question by asking Helen if her brother also belonged to Jesus. "Andrew's belonged to Jesus since he was four years old," Helen answered, "Uncle George told him about Jesus." "Daddy told me about Jesus." Andrew's quiet voice came from behind June. "Uncle George said I had to belong to Jesus if I wanted to be like Daddy."

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June turned around and smiled at the boy. He was standing there holding his plate and chopsticks. "Would you like to sit with us, Andrew?" she asked, taking his plate and putting it on the table, "No-one's using this chair on the other side here. I'll move there and you can sit next to your sister and I can speak to both of you, then." June moved to the chair next to Frank Helms, and Andrew sat down between her and Helen. "Thank you," he said, placing his chopsticks on his plate and pulling his chair closer, "Daddy showed me how to use those. Do you know how to use chopsticks?" "Yes, Andrew," June said, "I learned when I was a little girl." She was aware that Helen had been watching her closely, and she smiled at her. "You didn't answer my question," the girl pointed out, "Do you belong to Jesus, Mrs., uh, Mrs.—" She faltered as she realised that she didn't know the woman's name. "You can call me Auntie June, if you like," June said, "Or Mrs. Morris." "Mrs. Morris," Andrew said firmly, "We can't call you Auntie." "Why not?" "'Cos you're not a Christian." June was startled by his certainty, but tried not to show it. "You're right," she said, "I'm not a Christian. That answers your question, Helen." "Don't you believe that Jesus died for you too?" was Helen's surprised response. June just stared at the child. No, she decided, Helen wasn't being rude. And after all, she'd heard Carl's talk as well as Helen had. Or had she? She asked herself the question. Do I believe it or not? "I-I don't know," she said finally, "I don't know if I believe it, Helen." Andrew looked her straight in the eye, his blue eyes shining. "He did, you know," he said, smiling warmly at her, "He did die for you too, Mrs. Morris, and He loves you." How like his father he is, June thought, he looks straight at you with those piercing blue eyes and you just know that there is something special about him. "How can you be so sure of that?" she asked. "That's what God says," the boy replied, "in the Bible. He says that— that..." He struggled to remember, frowning at the table. "He says that Christ died for us even when we were still sinners and that's how God shows us that He loves us," he said, still frowning in concentration. Then he looked up and smiled at June and added brightly, "So he loves you too, 'cos you're a sinner too, doesn't He?" "Well... Yes, I suppose so..." June said slowly. She was desperately trying to find a way to change the subject, for she realised now that she didn't really want to think about Jesus Christ at all. Why not? she asked herself. Well, she could actually answer that in one word—Malcolm. She didn't want to give up Malcolm, and for some reason she had reached the conclusion that Malcolm stood between her and God. Did God disapprove of her relationship with Malcolm? she wondered. Was that the problem? June suddenly found herself thinking of Joshua instead of Malcolm. Joshua would have enjoyed talking to these children, she told herself. It 50


struck her that Malcolm probably wouldn't. But then, that was why she was living with Malcolm and not with Joshua. One of the reasons Joshua had left her was that they'd found that after ten years of putting off having children she had been unable to conceive, and he wanted children. It also occurred to her that had she done what Joshua had wanted instead of using contraceptive patches, she'd probably have had children around the twins' age by now. She hunted around in her mind for something about which to talk with the twins. "What sort of games do you two like to play?" she asked finally, smiling at Helen and avoiding looking at Andrew. It was Andrew who answered, however. "I like 'Hide and Seek' best," he said happily, "It's fun to try and find everybody when they hide." "Mummy's always found first," Helen said, "She giggles." "I always find her first," Andrew said, "but she mostly gets back to base before me." "How about your father?" June asked. "Daddy can't hide properly," Helen said, "He's too big and he can't find hiding places where he can fit, so he's easy to find too." "Do you find good hiding spots?" June asked her. "Really good ones sometimes," Helen replied, "and nobody can find me then!" "But I can find you, almost always," Andrew laughed, "'cos you giggle too!" "I don't always!" "Almost always." "But then I beat you back to base!" "That's 'cos you're bigger." "And I run faster." "So, does Andrew do most of the 'seeking', then?" June asked, smiling. "Sometimes Robert does," Andrew answered, "or Anna, or Jason." "Who are they?" June asked. "Our friends," the boy explained, "back in Apmirra." "Is that where you live?" June asked, "In Apmirra?" "Sometimes," Helen said, "but mostly we live in the camper truck." "Why do you live in the camper?" June asked, "Do you move around a lot?" "Yes. Daddy tells people about Jesus and he travels a lot and he wants us and Mummy to go with him." Helen's tone suggested that all this should be obvious! "But what about school, then?" June asked, "How do you go to school?" "Mummy and Daddy teach us. We don't go to school," Andrew replied, "Daddy teaches me to play the flute. He plays really good!" "Mummy plays the piano but we don't have a piano in our truck," Helen said, "She has to play when we go to Uncle Jack's house." "Do you play the flute too?" June asked Helen. "No, I sing with Mummy. Only Andrew and Daddy play flute. But they play and we sing." 51


"All together?" "Yep!" "Uncle Ben sings too," Andrew said, "He sings really loud. He sang when we did the washing." "He came last night," Helen said. "He likes Benjamin," Andrew said, "He gives him cuddles. He said he used to have a baby like him, only his baby was a girl." "She died," Helen added. "Uncle Ben is Daddy's friend," Andrew said, "He did all our washing." June laughed. "Is that why he's your Daddy's friend?" she asked. "No," Helen said, "He did the washing because he's Daddy's friend. There was an awful lot to wash, but we helped. Daddy'd used up all the sheets and all the towels!" "When did you do all that washing, then?" "When Mummy and Daddy went to see the doctor," the girl answered, "Uncle Ben said he'd like us to go with him and help him, so we did." "And you were happy to go with him?" June asked in surprise. After all, they'd only met Ben Clark less than twenty-four hours ago, according to what they'd told her. "Daddy said we could," Andrew said, "and he told us to stay with Uncle Ben and to be good. Uncle Ben's going to stay with us. He's nice, and he likes to sing." At that moment Elsa Sorensen came over to tell June it was time to return to work, so June had to excuse herself and get up from her seat. She thanked the children for their talk, and said she hoped to see them again soon. The twins smiled at her and said goodbye, and June followed Dr. Helms and Dr. Sorensen out of the restaurant. When they'd left, Helen turned to her brother. "Can you show me how to use chopsticks?" she asked. "Yeah, it's easy," he answered, picking up his pair, "Just watch." He carefully picked up a piece of chicken from his plate with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. Helen was watching intently. Picking up her own pair of sticks, she attempted in vain to hold them the way he had. Andrew got down from his chair and came over to her side and tried to place her fingers in the right position. Again she tried to manipulate the chopsticks, but only ended up dropping one of them. She giggled, and Andrew joined in. He picked up a piece of meat from her plate and put it in her mouth. "I'll have to feed you since you can't do it," he chuckled. Ben, smiling to himself, had been watching them. He got up, picked up his plate, and came over to sit next to Helen. "Here," he said, "Let me show you." While Ben helped Helen, Andrew looked around. He saw that Dr. Ng had left and that Dr. Watson was just going. He went back to sit next to his father. "I saw you were talking with Mrs. Morris," Carl said, "Did you have a good chat?" 52


Andrew was pensive for a moment. Then he looked up at his father seriously. "Mrs. Morris didn't want to talk about Jesus, you know," he said quietly, "She asked us about 'Hide and Seek'." "Did she, now?" Carl replied, "Well, perhaps she's still hiding. We can pray that Jesus will find her soon, can't we?" Andrew liked the analogy. He grinned up at his father. "Yeah," he said cheerfully, "She's playing 'Hide and Seek' with Jesus!" "But Jesus always wins, doesn't He?" Carl said. "Even when we think we're hiding really well." He was thinking of a Counsellor who had tried to hide from God. Andrew grew solemn again. "Yeah..." he said slowly, leaning against Carl's arm, "He always does." He looked up at his father. "But you know something, Daddy?" he asked. "What, Andrew?" "Some people run away when He finds them. They don't want Him to find them ever." Carl gazed thoughtfully at his son. He wondered if Andrew had perhaps at some stage overheard him talking about Ross Lancaster and his refusal, to the very end, to turn to Christ. "Yes," he said at last, "It's true, Andrew. It's hard to understand why, but it's true, there really are people who want nothing, ever, to do with Jesus, who don't want His love." "I'm awfully glad you love Jesus, Daddy..."

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CHAPTER 7 Ben had been with the Slades for just over two months when they returned to Brown's Reef for the promised visit to what Carl had started referring to as their "medical team". Life with the family in the crowded space of the camper truck had not been as difficult for him as he'd thought it might be when he had accepted the invitation to stay with them. On the other hand, over the previous week he'd become aware of an increasing tension in the household. At first he'd put it down to the difficulties of dealing with Benjamin's handicap, but a few days before they arrived in Brown's Reef he'd overheard a conversation between Carl and Emma which had made him realise that in those two months they'd had essentially no time to themselves. Whenever they stopped for a few days in a town, Ben would go off during the day in search of odd jobs and Carl would be busy preaching and meeting with people, while Emma stayed at the camper teaching the twins and encouraging new Christians whom Carl had led to Christ in previous visits. In the evenings they would be all together except for the times when Carl asked Ben to accompany him to a meeting or to visit someone. Early each morning, before the two men set out for the day, Carl would spend an hour or so in Bible study with Ben. As far as Ben could remember, in the two months he'd been with them, Carl and Emma had spent practically no time alone together. Over the days since the discussion that Ben had overheard, Carl had become more than a little impatient with his children, and as far as Ben could see, he didn't seem to be aware that Emma had become noticeably lethargic. Two days after that evening, he'd dropped the Bible study with Ben, setting off to meet with other people that much earlier each day. In fact, Ben mused, Carl had been rather short with him several times as well. What Ben had overheard late one evening the week before had made him decide to try to do something to help Carl and Emma have some time to themselves. He'd gone off to the shower block at the caravan park where they were staying, and halfway there realised he'd forgotten to bring his towel with him. He'd turned back towards the camper but when he'd reached the door he'd stopped abruptly, for through the open window of the camper he'd heard Carl speaking angrily. "It's not my fault these people need so much following up, Em!" Carl had said, "The pastors around here are so overworked they need all the help they can get!" "But that's what you said in the last town, and the one before that!" Emma had replied, "Don't you think we need some time from you too? We need you too, you know, and it's awfully hard at times to cope with Benjamin's feeding problems when the twins need attention. I seem to be always sending them off with 'not nows' and 'I can't, I'm feeding Benjy'."

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"I wouldn't mind some time from you, Em," Carl had said with a bitterness that had surprised Ben, "especially in the evenings when the children are asleep!" "But you're out with Ben almost every evening!" she'd exclaimed, "and when you're not out, Ben's here too!" "He's not here right now." "He doesn't take that long to have a shower. He'll be back in no time!" "Why don't you just say you've got a headache!" Carl had snapped. "Because I don't," Emma had said more quietly, "but that doesn't change the fact that we don't have time." "Well, we certainly don't," Carl had muttered angrily, "now you've wasted so much of it arguing!" Emma had not responded to this. "That's right," Carl had said, "turn over and go to sleep!" He'd continued grumbling, but Ben had not stayed to listen any further. He'd decided that it would not be a good time to go in for his towel, and had gone back to the shower block. He would just get changed into his nightclothes before returning to the camper, and have a shower in the morning. Ben wondered what he could do to make life a bit easier for his friends. He thought of moving out, but he had a feeling that Carl would not let him do that at this stage. However, on the day when they arrived in Brown's Reef he had an idea. Emma had been very tired that day, but Carl had been preoccupied and hadn't appeared to pay much attention to his wife. Ben decided to have a chat with Carl the next day before he went out. Early the next morning he was sitting on the step of the camper as Carl came back from the shower block. "Morning, Carl," he said, getting up, "Could I have a quick word with you?" Carl was a bit surprised to find Ben waiting for him, but he shrugged. "Sure," he replied, "Fire away." "Let's just move over there a minute," Ben said, leading the way to a table in the garden area of the caravan park. He sat down on one side and Carl, regarding him with a puzzled expression, took a seat facing him. "Well, what's up?" Carl asked. "Uh, well... I was thinking it's about time you and Emma had a bit of time to yourselves," Ben answered. "You're not thinking of moving out, are you?" Carl asked, raising his eyebrows. "I did wonder if I should..." Ben said hesitantly. "Where would you go?" Carl asked, as if the whole idea were absurd, "You haven't got a regular job—how would you pay for rent? No, you'd better stay with us. Besides, I really appreciate having your company on those evening visits, you know. It'd be much harder without you along." "But it's a bit hard on you all..." "It isn't hard at all, Ben. You're very welcome to stay with us. I mean that." 55


"Thanks, Carl, I know you do," Ben said. He started to stand up. "All right," he said, "I'll stay. You folks are like family now. But please don't hesitate to tell me if you'd rather I moved out, Carl." "All right," Carl answered, "but I can't see why we'd have to do that." Ben sat down again, as he remembered the other suggestion he'd meant to make. "Thanks, Carl," he said, "I appreciate it very much, your letting me stay in the camper with you all. The last few years had been very lonely, and in two months you people have more than made up for that. But right now I'd like to suggest something else to you. After lunch this arvo, as soon as Benjamin's been fed, I'm going to take your children out, all three of them, for two or three hours. You two need a break." Carl stared at him in amazement for a moment before answering, but Ben detected a hopeful note as he responded to the offer. "Have you told Emma?" Carl asked. "Not yet. I thought I'd ask you first, see what you think." "I think it's a wonderful idea, Ben, but are you sure you can cope with all three of them for that long?" "Of course I'm sure! I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise, would I?" "Uh, I guess not. But what about Benjamin? What if he cries? It's not always easy to know what's wrong when he cries..." "Carl, you're forgetting about our Clare." "Clare? Oh. Yeah, I guess you have experience..." "That's right," Ben smiled, and got up from the table. "So, it's settled, then?" he asked, "Shall I do that?" "Yes, please, Ben," Carl said, also getting up, "I'd—we'd—really appreciate it. Thanks, Ben." When the two men returned to the camper, Emma and the twins were already sitting at the table, which was set for breakfast. Benjamin was asleep in the middle of the double bed. Carl and Ben took their places at the table, Carl gave thanks, and they set to eating. After a few minutes Carl noticed that Emma had not said a word and that she hadn't touched her food. "Em, are you all right?" he asked, "You're not eating anything." "I've got a bit of a headache," she replied wearily, "I'm not really hungry." "Perhaps you ought to lie down again and rest while Benjamin's still asleep," Carl suggested. "I think I will, " Emma said. She slid out of her seat and headed for the bed where Benjamin was still asleep. Carl was somewhat surprised at how quickly she had agreed to his suggestion. "Would you like me to stay here this morning?" he asked, "I could ring up and cancel those appointments..." It occurred to Ben that Carl didn't sound convincing, and Emma, despite her headache, also detected Carl's hesitation. "No, don't worry," she said, "I'll probably be all right if I rest for a couple of hours. Those people need you."

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"Well, I'll come back at lunchtime anyway, okay? And Ben's offered to take the children out for a couple of hours this afternoon, including Benjamin." Emma turned and smiled at Ben. "Thanks, Ben," she said, "That'd be wonderful. It would be lovely to have a break, but are you sure you can cope with all three of them?" "Of course I can," Ben said, "I'm only sorry I didn't think of doing it weeks ago." "Lie down and try and have a sleep before Benjamin wakes up again, Em," Carl said. Emma did as he said and lay down on the bed next to the baby. When Carl finished his breakfast he told the twins to play quietly so as not to disturb their mother, who had fallen asleep. "Mummy's head hurts, so you have to be very good, do you understand?" he said to them, "Uncle Ben and I have to go to work and we're counting on you two, okay?" "Yes, Daddy," Andrew said softly. He slid off the bench seat and took his father's hand, and gazed silently up at him. Carl looked down at his son a moment, and felt uncomfortable. It was as if Andrew knew something he himself did not want to admit. Then Andrew gave his father a gentle hug and broke the silence. "We'll be good, Daddy," he said. "We'll be real quiet," Helen asserted. "Good," Carl said gruffly, "I'll be back at lunchtime." He put on his hat, gave each child a hug, and Ben and he left the camper and closed the door. The twins cleared the table as quietly as they could, then Helen looked in on her mother and found that she had woken up because Benjamin had started crying. She found Emma leaning over the bed, her face grim, changing the baby's nappy. "Mummy, can me and Andrew do some painting?" she asked. Emma felt as if Helen were asking her to make a major decision, and she did not feel up to making it. "Do something quiet, please," she said softly, "Draw, paint, whatever you like, but please be quiet. My head hurts a lot." "Okay, Mummy," Helen said, "Don't worry. We'll be quiet. Are you going to feed Benjy?" "Yes, and then I need to keep resting. You go back to Andrew, and do something quiet together." "Okay, Mummy," Helen said. She kissed her mother's cheek and went back to her brother.

! ! ! That afternoon, by the time Emma had fed Benjamin and had got him and the twins ready for Ben to take out, her headache was worse than ever. She'd taken some painkilling tablets but they hadn't made any difference, and she'd only forced herself to eat some lunch because she figured she needed to eat to be able to feed Benjamin, whether she herself was hungry or not.

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Ben, sitting at the table, watched her pensively as she sat on the double bed and dressed the baby. He turned to Carl, who was standing near the sink, brushing Helen's hair, and gave him a worried look. "Maybe we should do this some other time?" he said, "Emma's not very well..." Carl looked alarmed at his suggestion. "No, no," he said hastily, "Em'll be all right, I expect. A break from the children will do her good. Besides, the twins are looking forwards to it now we've told them." "Well, all right," Ben said dubiously, "If you think so." When Emma had finished dressing Benjamin she handed him over to Ben with a bag containing spare clothing and nappies. Helen and Andrew, excited about an outing with Uncle Ben, were already waiting outside. "We'll be back about four," Ben said as he stepped out of the door, and he left with the children. Carl was clearing the lunch table. He'd been looking forwards to being alone with his wife and he felt somewhat annoyed that she wasn't feeling well. He glanced at her as he wiped down the table. She does look a bit pale, he thought, but surely her headache can't be that bad. It's been a long time for her, too... Emma sat down on the end of their bed. She looked up at him slowly as he sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. She leant her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her heart sank because she knew what he had in mind but she also knew that she wasn't up to it. "C-Carl," she stammered softly, "I-I think it's g-getting worse. The-The headache, I mean." Carl felt unreasonable anger well up. He forced himself to stay calm, but Emma felt him tense up. "Surely it's not that bad, is it, Em?" he pleaded, but his voice was strained, "It's not so bad that we can't make love, is it?" Emma hesitated, but finally replied, almost in a whisper, "It's an awful headache, Carl. It's really bad..." His anger erupted and he jumped to his feet. "The first chance we get after all these months and you go and have a headache!" he snapped, hitting the kitchen counter with his fist. Emma looked at him in dismay, hurt and frightened by his outburst, and wishing she could make the throbbing in her head go away. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him that it was all right, her headache needn't stop them, but the throbbing hit a new peak and she felt too weak to move at all. "Carl..." she moaned softly. "Oh, leave me alone!" he growled, grabbing his hat and shoving it onto his head, "Go back to bed—I'm going out!" He stamped out of the camper, slamming the door behind him. Tears streaming down her face, Emma lay down on the bed. She felt dreadful, her neck was stiff, and the pounding in her head was fiercer than ever. The little food she had eaten at lunch sat in her stomach like a lump of stone, and she became increasingly nauseous. She wished Carl would come back. Oh, God, please bring him back, she prayed silently, please help me... The nausea got worse and she forced herself off the bed to fetch a basin from the kitchen cupboard. She took it out and placed it on the floor and 58


knelt by it, leaning against the cupboard and shivering. Finally her stomach gave up. She managed to lean over the basin until the spasms stopped, but as she tried to straighten up everything went black and she collapsed onto the floor.

! ! ! When Carl left the camper he walked hurriedly out of the caravan park and down the street towards the centre of town. He had no particular destination in mind—he was just too angry to think clearly and he walked along briskly, muttering under his breath, without any thought as to where he was. After some ten minutes of this, he calmed down enough to notice that there was another man keeping step alongside him. He turned to see who it could be, and stopped abruptly in astonishment. It was his friend Henry Smith, the pastor from Goldridge. "Henry!" he exclaimed, "What on earth are you doing here?" "I was about to ask you the same thing," Henry replied, not smiling, "I was at that newsstand way back there and I happened to look up and saw you rush past looking like murder. What's wrong, mate?" Carl just stared at him, unable to answer. "You looked just like Counsellor Slade, you know," Henry said gently, "What's the matter?" Carl's face went white at the mention of his old title and he suddenly felt terribly ashamed of his behaviour towards Emma. He looked down at his feet and swallowed hard. Henry took his arm and led him to a bench at a nearby bus stop. "Sit down, Carl," he said firmly. Carl did as he was told and leant over, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. Henry sat down next to him. "Okay, Carl, out with it," he said quietly, "Tell me what's wrong." "Emma's got a headache," Carl muttered, still covering his face. Memories of his treatment of Emma at the Counselling Institute all those years ago had been rushing through his mind, and he shuddered. "Emma's got a headache?" Henry echoed, "What do you mean?" "She's got a headache, and stupid me felt rejected, and I left in a huff, and I feel like a fool!" Carl yelled at him, and immediately felt even more stupid. "Sorry," he mumbled. Henry patted his shoulder. "All right, mate, calm down," Henry said, "and tell me the whole story." Carl sighed deeply. "Ben took the children out for the afternoon," he said softly, "including Benjamin, so Emma and I could have some time by ourselves. Because of her pregnancy, and then after Benjamin's birth, and then because of not having any privacy, we hadn't, uh... we hadn't made love for a long time, and I was looking forwards to, uh, to that, and she'd had this headache all morning and she still had it and she said it was

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worse. Like an idiot I felt rejected, and I lost my temper and left." He looked up at Henry. "Talk about selfishness! Can you believe it? That's how low I've got, Henry, and here I am running around preaching the Gospel! What a hypocrite!" Henry gazed at him thoughtfully for a few moments. Finally, he stood up and put a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Well, Carl," he said, "there's only one thing to do. Where's your camper? I assume that's where Emma is. Right?" Carl stared at him but didn't get up. "What do you mean?" he asked. "You're going to go home," Henry replied, "apologise to your wife, and look after her, what else?" Carl jumped up and grabbed the pastor's arm. "Henry, what are you doing here?" he asked earnestly. "Right now, sorting you out," Henry replied, grinning, "But in general, I'm here to visit a friend's family. I'll tell you about that later—first things first. Let's go to your house-on-wheels, mate!" Carl didn't move. He continued to stare at Henry in amazement. Two years ago he'd been the one sorting Henry out—now, it seemed, their roles were reversed. Was it coincidence that Henry happened to be here in Brown's Reef? The only other person who could possibly have been able to sort him out at this point was Jack Winston, Emma's brother and Carl's closest friend, but Jack was in Apmirra. Henry was here, in Brown's Reef, six hundred and fifty kilometres from Goldridge! "All right, Henry, let's go," he whispered at last, and slowly started to lead the way back to the caravan park. As they went he began to walk faster, and Henry had to speed up considerably to keep up with his long strides. When they reached the camper, Carl opened the door and was about to climb in when he caught sight of his wife lying on the floor. "Emma!" he cried, and leapt through the door in one bound. Henry hurried up the steps behind him, moved the basin out of the way, and helped him carry Emma to the double bed. "She's burning hot," he said, "Carl, she's sick!" Carl was staring at the inert form of his wife, his face drained of colour. He looked over at Henry in a daze. "She's sick..." he said softly. Henry was still in charge. "We need to get her to a doctor," he said, "I'll go get a taxi or an ambulance or something." He started towards the door, but Carl stopped him. "No, wait, Henry," he said, "I'll get Rob Norton—he's the manager here. He knows us well. He'll drive us to the hospital. It'll be quicker." He ran out of the truck without waiting for Henry's answer, and was back less than a minute later. The manager was coming with his car. Carl came into the camper and went over to the bed. He handed his keys to Henry and asked him if he could stay, to let Ben know what had happened. "Yes, of course," Henry said, "I'll wait until he gets back. Don't worry." "Make yourself a cuppa, or anything you like," Carl said, "Just help yourself." He had a sudden thought. "Oh, Benjamin will probably want a feed," he said, "What on earth will we do? He's breastfed."

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"Something'll work out, don't worry about it," Henry assured him, "The important thing right now is to get Emma to the hospital." Carl sighed, and nodded. "Thanks, Henry," he said. He picked Emma up in his arms and shuffled to the door of the camper with her. The caravan park manager had arrived, and he helped him down the step and over to his car. They arrived at the hospital's emergency entrance in less than five minutes, for it wasn't far from the caravan park. Rob Norton went to find a nurse, and came out accompanied by a nurse and an orderly pushing a trolley. With the orderly's help, Carl placed Emma on the trolley and they started to wheel her into the building. "Will you be needing me anymore?" Norton asked, "If not, I'd better get back to the office." "I don't think so," Carl answered, "Thanks a lot, Rob. Thanks for bringing us." "That's okay. Anytime. See you later." Norton got into his car, waved to him, and drove off. Carl followed the trolley through the double doors and into a cubicle in the emergency room. The nurse asked him Emma's name and age and entered them on a compufiler. "What's her problem?" she asked. "She's had a headache all day and it got worse and she threw up and blacked out and she's got a very high temperature," Carl replied all in a rush. He was frightened, and his voice showed it. "Oh," the nurse said slowly. She put a hand on his arm and indicated a stool in the corner of the cubicle. "Please sit down," she said kindly, "Wait here. Keep an eye on her. I'll be right back. There's the call button if you need help." She hurried out of the cubicle. Carl sat on the stool and stared numbly at his wife's face. How long had she been lying unconscious on the floor of the camper? he wondered. What if Henry hadn't found him and taken him back there? Why hadn't he seen that she was sick? The nurse returned very shortly, accompanied by a short man with a familiar Asian face. "Dr. Somsay!" Carl said, relief in his voice as he got up to greet him. Somsay Ng smiled briefly and went over to the trolley. "Hello, Carl," he said, "I'm sorry about this. How long has she been sick?" "Just today. At least, I think it's just today. She had a headache all day and she said it was getting worse. She threw up and then she fainted, and she's burning hot." "Has she been conscious since she fainted?" "I don't think so," Carl answered. He didn't dare tell the neurologist that he didn't even know how long Emma had been unconscious. He felt utterly miserable. When Dr. Ng had finished examining Emma, he turned to the nurse. "We'll take her upstairs," he said, "Give them a ring and tell them to prepare for a lumbar." He turned back to Carl as she left the cubicle. "She suggested 61


it might be meningitis and I'm pretty sure she's right, Carl," he said, "We'll do a spinal tap and that should confirm it. But I can already tell you that she's in serious condition. Come up with us. I'll show you where you can wait. As soon as we have the result I'll let you know." Seeing the look on Carl's face, he added gently, "Pray for her, Carl. Trust God." The nurse came back with an orderly, who started pushing the trolley out of the cubicle and down the hall to the lift. Dr. Ng took Carl's arm and led him out to follow the trolley. Once upstairs, he showed Carl into a small lounge and told him to wait there. "It won't take all that long," he said, and left. Carl sank into an armchair. His thoughts were in a whirl. How had this happened? So suddenly? He thought of his behaviour earlier that day. How could he have been so unbelievably selfish when even then it had been obvious that Emma was sick? Meningitis! The Mercers' eldest child had died of meningitis! Was Emma going to die too? He shivered. He hadn't even been able to apologise to her—what if she never regained consciousness? He tried to pray. Oh, God, he cried silently, I haven't prayed for so long, for days—or is it weeks? I've been so busy running around telling people about You that I haven't had time to talk with You. Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please forgive me—please don't let Emma die—please don't let her die—You know I can't live without her—what would we do without her, God? He sat with his face in his hands, trying to pray and feeling sick at the thought of his wife possibly dying. He tried in vain to imagine a normal life without Emma—all he could conjure up seemed like a nightmare. Oh, God, why? why? he asked silently, again and again. His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door, and a nurse showed Ben into the lounge. He was carrying Benjamin and had Emma's shoulder bag slung over his shoulder. He hurried over to Carl, and sat down heavily in an armchair, out of breath. "How are you, Carl?" he gasped, "How's Emma?" Carl clasped and unclasped his hands and stared at the floor. "She's got meningitis," he answered dully. He looked up at Ben. "How'd you get here?" he asked. "Taxi," Ben replied, "Henry told me you'd be here. I asked down in emergency and they sent me up here." "Where are the twins?" "Back at the camper. Henry's looking after them. I brought Benjamin because he'll be wanting a feed soon and I don't know what to do about it." "I don't know either, Ben," Carl said in dismay. He held out his hands. "Here, let me take him a minute." Ben handed him the baby and Carl cradled him in his arms. Benjamin gazed at his father and smiled, and Carl lifted him up and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh, little Benjamin," he said softly, "your mother's so awfully sick..." His eyes filled with tears and he closed them and held his little son close, his cheek against the baby's head. How could they ever cope without Emma?

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The door opened again and Dr. Ng came into the room. He went straight over to Carl and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm afraid it is meningitis, Carl—bacterial," he said soberly, "We've taken her to an isolation room and I've put an IV in and started treatment, but she's been convulsing and we can't get her temperature down." He became aware of Ben sitting across from Carl. "Oh, hello, Ben," he said, "I didn't see you when I came in, sorry. You've got Benjamin. I'm afraid his mother is unable to look after him." "I know," Ben said, "The trouble is, how are we going to feed him?" Somsay thought about this a moment. "Why don't you go up to Paediatrics," he suggested, "They can give you advice, I expect." "Fine," Ben said, then added, to Carl, "Don't worry about the children, Carl, I'll look after them. You stay here as long as you need to. Here's Emma's bag. Henry packed it while he was waiting for me. He said he also put in a change of clothes for you, and your shaver, and so on." He put the bag on a low table and took the baby from Carl. "We'll be praying, mate. I'll phone in the morning to see how things are going. Would you like me to phone Jack and Rose?" Carl hadn't even thought of contacting the Winstons, even though they were usually the first people he rang in a crisis. "Yes, please, ring them," he said, and put a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Thanks, Ben, you're a true brother." "No problem," Ben smiled, "Now hand me that baby and I'll see about getting him fed. I'll see you sometime tomorrow." Carl handed him Benjamin, and he clapped Carl on the shoulder gently. "Trust God, Carl," he said, and turned to Dr. Ng. "Now, Somsay, which way to Paediatrics?" "Out that door, turn left, take the lift to the fourth floor, and follow the signs." Ben left and Dr. Ng beckoned to Carl. "Come, Carl," he said, "I'll take you to see Emma." Carl picked up the shoulder bag and followed him down the corridor to the Isolation Ward, where they put on sterile gowns over their clothing and covers over their shoes before going through the double doors. "She is allowed no visitors except you," Somsay explained as they went, "and even that, only when I say so." He opened a door and let Carl precede him into Emma's room. The lights in the small room were dimmed. A nurse sat by the hospital bed where Emma, still unconscious, lay on her side. The guard rails on the bed were up, and the tubing from an intravenous set coiled over it and down to Emma's arm, resting on the edge of the bed in front of her. The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of the IV pump and the whir of a rotating fan directed towards the bed. Emma wore only a light hospital gown, and the nurse kept sponging her with cold water. Carl walked over to the bed and gazed down at his wife. Very gently, he took her hand—it felt very hot and dry—and squeezed it lightly. He bent his face close to hers. "I love you, Em," he said very softly, "I'm sorry I left and hurt you like that. Please get well."

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As he straightened up he felt something wet drop on his hand, and realized it was his own tears. He let go her hand and stroked her hair. Her head felt very hot to his hand. And then, to his horror, Emma started to convulse again. Dr. Ng pulled him gently away from the bed and led him towards the door. "Attend to her, please, Nurse," he said. They left the room and he closed the door, then pointed up the hallway. "Carl," he said, "I want you to go to the room at the end of the corridor—Room B six—and lie down on the bed in there and have a rest. Sleep if you can. Room B six. Off you go." "But what if—" Carl objected. "If anything happens that you should know about, I'll get you in here quick-smart, Carl. But I want you to rest now. I will be here with her most of the time. Go, please. Room B six." Carl threw a glance at the door to Emma's room. "All right, Somsay," he said, "I trust you." Hesitantly, he started walking up the corridor. "Trust God, Carl," Somsay called after him, "He's the One in charge."

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CHAPTER 8 Early in the morning Somsay Ng came into Room B-6. His face was sallow from fatigue and worry, and his short black hair was dishevelled from his having run his hands through it over and over at various times throughout the night. The pale sunlight was just beginning to filter through the blind which was drawn down over the large single window. A high hospital bed with a tall locker next to it, and a worn, vinyl-covered armchair dating from the turn of the century were the only furnishings in the room. Carl had dropped the shoulder bag, unopened, on the armchair. He was lying on his stomach on top of the bed, his shoes still on his feet and his clothes wrinkled, sleeping soundly. His mouth was slightly open, and he was snoring softly. The bedclothes in disarray under him testified to an uneasy night. Dr. Ng shook him firmly by the shoulder. "Wake up, Carl," he said, "Wake up." Carl stirred, and turned over onto his back. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus them in the dim light. When he saw Somsay Ng bending over him he came fully awake. He sat up hurriedly and grabbed the doctor's arm. "How is she, Somsay?" he almost cried out, "How's Emma?" Dr. Ng sighed deeply. "The crisis is past, Carl," he said wearily, "but she's still very sick. Her temperature is still very high, and she's still not conscious some of the time. But the worst is over and she's still alive. She almost died, but the Lord spared her." "She almost died and you didn't call me?" Carl exclaimed, tightening his grasp on the doctor's arm and jumping off the bed. "I sent a nurse over to get you, Carl," Somsay said, "but she said you were sleeping so soundly she couldn't wake you. Anyway, Emma didn't die." "Can I see her?" Carl asked anxiously. "Yes, of course," Somsay replied quietly, and touched Carl's hand gently. "Please can you let go?" he asked. "Uh, oh, yes, sorry," Carl said, and dropped his hand, "Was I hurting you?" "Not really," the doctor said, "but it is better now, thank you. Come along." What Somsay didn't know was that Carl had spent several hours tossing on the bed in Room B-6, unable to sleep, pray, or still his frantic thoughts. The sight of his beloved Emma convulsing had so unnerved him that he felt he might go mad if she should die. He was terribly afraid that she would not survive, and he felt incredibly guilty that this should be happening to her, as if he himself had caused it to happen. He did wonder if indeed it was something he had done or not done that had brought about Emma's illness. In the end he'd slid off the bed and, kneeling on the floor beside it, had buried his face in the bedclothes and wept.

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"Oh, God! Oh, God!" he'd sobbed, the pain of his sorrow gnawing in his chest as if it would tear him apart, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Jesus, help me... Help Emma... Please..." His tears had flowed freely for what seemed to him hours though it was in fact less than one hour, until at last the weight of his grief had begun slowly to lift and to be replaced by an amazing calm which he knew could only have come from God. He'd sat back on his heels and looked around, vaguely astonished to find himself in a hospital room. An overwhelming sleepiness had seized him and he'd pulled himself up, and feeling suddenly immensely grateful for the bed he'd lain down on it and in a few moments had been deeply asleep. A few minutes later the nurse had come to get him and had been unable to wake him up. As Somsay led him to Emma's room, Carl sensed that the neurologist was more concerned than he was letting on. "Somsay, is Emma really out of danger?" he asked hesitantly. Dr. Ng stopped and turned thoughtfully to him. "Well, Carl," he said quietly, "to tell the truth, no, she isn't. I don't think she's in mortal danger, but she's still at risk. We can't get her temperature down, and until we can, there's still the possibility of complications, of permanent damage..." "Permanent damage?" Carl asked apprehensively. Here was another form of horror coming into the picture. He grabbed Somsay's arm again. "What do you mean? What kind of permanent damage?" Somsay took a deep breath and looked Carl in the eye before answering. "Brain damage, Carl," he said soberly. Then seizing Carl's other arm, at which Carl released his own hold, he suddenly led him, not towards Emma's room, but towards the staff lounge behind the nurses' station. "Come in here a minute," he said. The staff lounge was a comfortable if somewhat shabby windowless room, with cream-tiled walls surrounding a haphazard distribution of fabriccovered armchairs and low tables over a brown-carpeted floor. The flurolite fittings made the room bright, one of its saving graces—the other being that the old armchairs were comfortable. In one far corner was a large table holding the equipment and ingredients for putting together cups of tea or coffee or similar drinks, as well as a snack dispenser. In the corner opposite that was a library-computer station. A door to the left led to the staff restrooms. Dr. Ng didn't invite Carl to sit down. Instead, he stood with him in the middle of the room and grasped his arms. He was much shorter than Carl, but somehow at that moment he seemed tall. "I think it's about time we prayed together, don't you?" he asked Carl. His dark eyes probed Carl's face, and Carl shifted uncomfortably, for he couldn't bring himself to look his friend in the eye. How could he admit to Somsay, who had known the Lord only two months, that the idea of praying left him cold? He felt a sudden surge of anger towards the man. Who does he think he is, anyway? he thought, he's only been a Christian two months! A fleeting picture of himself rebuking Simon Banks, the first pastor of a free church that he'd met after coming to Christ, crossed his mind. He, 66


himself, Carl Slade, former Police Counsellor, had then been a believer only three weeks... His anger left as suddenly as it had come. Somsay hadn't been rebuking or accusing—all he had done was to suggest they pray! He had also shown by his manner that he was aware that Carl was struggling. It was God who had rebuked him, using Somsay's suggestion to convict him. He finally answered the doctor, but the words he heard himself speak were not those he had intended to say. "Somsay, I don't want to pray," he said miserably, "I've forgotten how to pray..." Somsay sat down and indicated to Carl that he should sit down too, which he did, in an armchair facing the doctor's. "Tell me about it, my friend," Dr. Ng urged gently. His quiet encouragement was all that Carl needed and, at first falteringly but then in a rush of words, he poured out to Somsay his increasing misery of the past month—the anger at God for allowing Benjamin to be handicapped; the growing pride from his increasing fame as a preacher and from the knowledge that he had been used to lead many people to Christ; his impatience with Emma's inability to meet his physical need for so long and his resentment towards her; the fact that he had not opened a Bible for weeks except as a reference tool; the fact that he hadn't been praying... "And then I was so angry with Emma that I purposely ignored all the signs which pointed to her being ill yesterday, even when Ben tried to make me take notice..." he groaned, "I've been impatient with Emma, with the children, with Ben. I even resented it every time I found Ben reading his Bible! Oh, Somsay, what a mess I'm in! And what have I done to Emma? All I thought of was myself, and she could have died! She might still die!" He covered his face with his hands and wept again. Somsay Ng had grown up in Sydney, but his had been a firm Asian upbringing in which it was not done to show one's feelings. He'd been taught that for a man to weep was scandalous. It had taken him a very long time to get used to the idea that shedding tears was at times a necessary and healthy thing to do, even for a man. It had taken him even longer to stop being embarrassed when someone broke down in his presence. But now he could sit quietly and let Carl weep and he was not disconcerted but sat praying silently for his friend. At last Carl looked up. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face, and looked at Somsay apologetically. "Forgive me, please, Somsay," he said, "It was all too much, suddenly." "God is the one who forgives you," the doctor said, "Now put your hand back in His and let Him control your life, not you. Let's pray, Carl." He prayed, still quietly, first in praise of God, then in thanksgiving for what God had done in their lives, and finally he prayed for Emma and for Carl. In particular he asked that Carl might be strong, in the power of the Spirit, against the temptation to be proud... Hesitantly, Carl prayed too, thanking God for Henry, for Ben, for Somsay, asking Him for His forgiveness, asking for Emma to get well, for her temperature to come down.

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The lounge door opened suddenly and a nurse put her head around it. "Oh, there you are Doctor," she said urgently, "Mrs. Slade's having problems again—can you come?" Dr. Ng had jumped up as soon as he saw her, and he hurried out after her. Carl glanced at him as he left, but stayed where he was, and continued to pray silently. He was surprised to find joy seeping into his heart as he prayed, and his prayer turned into words of praise and continued into quiet singing, though he had no idea of the words he was singing, only that they praised God as he had never praised Him before. Somsay returned some thirty minutes later to find Carl fast asleep on the floor of the lounge. He knelt down by him and shook him by the shoulder. "Carl! Wake up, Carl," he said, "Wake up. Emma's going to be all right." Carl slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and yawned. He looked around as if wondering where he was, and grinned sheepishly at his friend. "I guess I fell asleep again... Sorry..." "Never mind," Dr. Ng replied, "You have been under much strain. Now— Emma's temperature has come down, finally. She will be all right, Carl. Come and see her." The neurologist handed him a clean hospital gown to change into, and told him to leave the soiled one in a bin by the door. Somsay's step was noticeably lighter as he led his friend down the hallway to Emma's room. When they reached the door of her room, Carl hesitated, but Somsay pulled at his sleeve. "She is conscious, you know," he said, smiling slightly. The enormous feeling of relief that flooded him was only hinted at, but Carl could almost feel it, and it spread to him. He took a deep breath, and walked slowly to the bed. Emma was lying on her side as before, facing the door, her eyes still shut, but now a sheet covered her to her shoulders. The fan still hummed to the counterpoint of the IV pump, and the light in the room was still subdued. Carl saw a chair nearby, drew it over to the head of the bed, and sat down. With the nurse's help, he eased down the guard rail so he could get closer to his wife. "Emma, love, it's me, Carl," he said softly, placing his hand over hers next to the pillow, "Can you hear me?" Slowly she opened her eyes and gazed at him. "Carl..." she whispered. He squeezed her hand, and stroked her forehead with his other hand. "Thank You, Lord," he whispered, "I love you, Em." "I love you too, Carl," she whispered back, and closed her eyes. How cool his hand felt on her forehead. How good it was to have him here. Everything would be all right now. Her husband still loved her. Carl leant over and kissed her cheek. He put his head down on the edge of the pillow and put his arm around her. Through the sheet he could feel that her temperature was still high, but nowhere near as high as the previous evening. She opened her eyes and smiled briefly, and sighed as she closed them again. Behind Carl the door opened and Elsa Sorensen walked in briskly. Carl straightened up and turned around at the sound of her footsteps, but Dr. Ng had gone to her right away. 68


"I met Ben up in Paediatrics last night, just as I was leaving for home," she said, "He told me about Emma, so this morning I came down as soon as my rounds were over to see how she is. Your nurses almost wouldn't let me through, then they relented when I said I knew I had to wear this fancy outfit." She grinned as she indicated the hospital gown and overshoes. She spotted Carl and walked over to him. He started to stand up to greet her. "Sit down," she said, and put a hand on his shoulder. "How are you doing?" she asked him with concern. "I'm all right," he said, "And Emma will be okay, thanks be to God. The Lord has surrounded us with guardian angels." "Guardian angels?" Dr. Sorensen's eyebrows arched over her green eyes. "How do you mean?" "Who, not how," Carl said, "I mean Somsay here, I mean Ben Clark, I mean Henry Smith. They keep reminding me we're in God's hands, the safest place to be." Elsa looked uncomfortable. "Oh yes..." she said vaguely. She looked down at Emma, then turned to Dr. Ng. "How is Emma?" she asked. "She has gone through the crisis, and she will be all right," Somsay answered, "Her temperature has finally come down. That was the biggest problem." Elsa nodded and turned her attention back to Carl. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, "You look very tired." "I'm fine, Elsa, now Emma's on the mend," he replied, "Thank you for coming to see her. How have things been with you?" "Oh, they are okay... Don't worry about me..." "How's Frank?" "Uh... I suppose he's all right. I'm not sure. He's been rather busy lately so I haven't seen much of him." Carl was surprised at Dr. Sorensen's obvious discomfort as she spoke about Dr. Helms. "Oh," he said, smiling, "Has he had too many babies to deliver lately?" Dr. Sorensen didn't smile. "Probably," she said dryly. She sighed abruptly, and gave Carl a resentful glance. "Frank asked me to move out," she said, "He decided we were 'living in sin', as he put it, and he asked me to move back to my flat. He's living in his house on his own." "Oh," Carl said, uncertainly, "Uh... What made him do that?" "He became a Christian," Dr. Sorensen replied with obvious distaste. "He did? When?" Dr. Sorensen grimaced and looked away a moment, then turned back. "Look, Carl," she said abruptly, "I'd rather not talk about Frank, all right?" She moved away from him without waiting for his response, and turned back to the bed. Emma looked up at her and smiled weakly. "It's as if he'd divorced you, isn't it?" she said softly. "Mmmm..." Elsa mumbled, and patted Emma's hand. Then she turned to leave the room. "I'd better get down to Outpatients," she said crisply, "I've a long list of appointments to deal with." 69


"When Emma's better it would be nice if we could all get together," Carl said, not knowing at that point what else he could say. The news about Frank Helms, and Elsa's reaction, had stunned him. "Yes, well, wait until she is better," Elsa said curtly, "then we can arrange something, maybe. See you later. Bye, Somsay." She left the room hurriedly without waiting for an answer. Carl gave Dr. Ng an uncomfortable look, and the doctor smiled slightly and shrugged. "She is very hurt, Carl," he said quietly, "She is not a believer and she does not understand Frank's reasoning." "Well, to tell you the truth, Somsay," Carl said, "I don't, either. I would've thought Frank would've asked her to marry him, instead of telling her to move out. After all, in God's eyes he is married to her." "He says he does not want to be yoked unequally to an unbeliever..." "Oh, brother! Sounds to me like somebody's got to sort out some of Frank's ideas!" "He is apparently getting advice from one of the local pastors..." "If he's the one putting such ideas in Frank's head, he needs sorting out too!" Carl exclaimed, "I mean, to all intents and purposes, Frank and Elsa are married, and have been for several years! All it needs is to make it official. Paul makes it quite clear in his letter to the Corinthians that if a man has a non-Christian wife who's willing to stay with him he should not divorce her!" "Well, but Elsa was the one who didn't want to get married in the first place. I mean, when they first started living together." Somsay scratched his head and frowned. "She is part of the problem—her attitude is, anyway. She wanted to be free to do 'her own thing'... So Frank is very confused, I think." "No wonder," Emma said softly. Carl sat down on the bed and bent down to kiss her cheek. "Keep your strength for getting better, Em," he said. "I think I had better go and get some sleep," Somsay announced, "I'll see you folk later." He called a nurse in. "Please ensure that Mrs. Slade is not left alone at any time, until further notice. I think you had better pull up the rail again, too." "Have a good sleep, Somsay," Carl said, "God bless you." "He never stops blessing me, Carl," the doctor replied, smiling, "You know what I mean, I am sure." "I do. Thank you for all you've done. Go and sleep before you collapse and we have to pick you up off the floor." Dr. Ng laughed. "Don't forget to get something to eat, Carl, or it's you we will have to pick up off the floor." He winked. "Again," he added, and went out the door. Carl grinned to himself at Somsay's teasing. He looked down at his wife. She had her eyes open and she smiled at him sleepily. "Poor Elsa," she whispered. He patted her hand and sighed. "I'll see if I can have a chat with Frank," he said.

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The nurse came over and asked him if he was planning to be there much longer. "Yes, I expect so," he replied. "Please let me or one of the other nurses know when you do leave," she said, "so that your wife isn't left alone." "Will do," Carl said. She checked Emma's IV and took her pulse and, apparently satisfied, smiled briefly at Carl and went out. Carl pulled the chair over next to the head of the bed and sat down on it so he could see Emma's face better. He leant forwards and whispered to her. "Em," he said, "I'm awfully sorry for what I said and did to you yesterday." "I know," she whispered back, "You told me already. It's all right now." He'd placed his hand on the edge of the bed and she put her hand over it. "It's all right," she repeated, "I love you, Carl." "How do you feel?" he asked. "Rotten. My head's still hurting like blazes." "Maybe it would be best if you try and sleep, Em." "What's happening with the children? How are they?" "They're fine, I'm sure. Ben's been looking after Benjamin. He came in with Benjamin last night and Somsay sent him to Paediatrics for help with feeding him. He's the one who told Elsa about you." "What about the twins?" "Henry's minding them." "Henry? Do you mean Henry Smith? He's in Brown's Reef?" "He's visiting some friends here. He was with me when I found you on the floor of the camper. In fact, it was him who made me go back to the camper. He met me on the street and picked me up by the scruff of the neck, as it were." "Thank God for Henry and Ben." "Yes, indeed. And Ben rang up Jack and Rose yesterday." "Oh dear, Rose'll be over on the next plane." "I hope she is—it would be a blessing. You know how the children love her." "She's an angel, Rose is. She always has been." "She'd get to see her new nephew, too," Carl said, smiling. "She'll love him," Emma replied, her voice weak, "Rose... Rose... She l-loves b-babies." "Em," Carl said with concern, "You'd better rest, you know. It'd be dreadful if your temperature went up again." "Yeah..." Emma sighed. She squeezed his hand and closed her eyes. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, but Carl waited some ten minutes before he moved his hand away from under hers. Then he got up and pulled up the guard rail, and went over to the window. The blind was down and he lifted it slightly to look outside, but the window had frosted glass so he couldn't see out anyway. He dropped the blind and went back to the chair, where he sat and prayed for a few minutes, then took out his pocket Bible, intending to read it for a little while. 71


He hadn't got far in his reading when there was a quiet knock on the door and a nurse came in. She saw that Emma was asleep, so she spoke softly. "There's a couple out there to see you, Mr. Slade," she said, "with two children. They're not allowed in here until Dr. Ng says, so you'll have to go out there to see them. I'll stay here with your wife." "Thank you," Carl said, putting his Bible back in his pocket, "I'll go see them." He went out into the corridor and looked over towards the glass doors of the Isolation Ward. Henry was standing there, just beyond them, with a woman Carl had never seen before, and they had the twins with them. Helen spotted him and waved eagerly, and he waved back. He took off the hospital gown and over shoes and dropped them in the bin next to the door before going through. As soon as he was through the doors Helen jumped to hug him. "Daddy!" she cried happily as Carl caught her up in his arms. "Shh," he said to her, "You have to be quiet here, because sick people don't like noise. It makes them feel worse." Andrew skipped over to him and he put Helen down to give his son a hug. "Where's Mummy?" Andrew asked softly. Carl turned and pointed towards the door of Emma's room. "She's in that room over there," he said, "but she's still very sick, so Dr. Ng doesn't want her to have visitors yet. She's sleeping right now, anyway." "Is Mummy better now?" Helen asked. "She's better, but she's still not all better." "We prayed and prayed with Uncle Ben and Uncle Henry and Auntie Louise," Andrew said as Carl put him down on the floor. Henry gave Carl a hug, then Carl motioned for them all to follow him to the visitors' lounge. Once there, he gave Henry another hug. "Thanks for coming, Henry, and bringing the children," he said warmly as they all sat down. "How are you, Carl?" Henry asked, "and how's Emma doing?" "I'm okay, Henry," Carl said, smiling, "and Emma's much better. She's over the worst, according to Somsay." "Somsay?" "Somsay Ng, the neurologist I told you about when we visited you last month. He's looking after her. A very good doctor and a true friend. Now, who is this lady with you, Henry? Be polite and introduce her." Henry took his companion's hand and smiled at her, then he turned back to Carl. "I have the wonderful pleasure of introducing Louise McLean, my fiancee," he said happily, "Louise, this is Carl Slade, whom I've told you about—a very, very special friend." Carl shook Louise's hand cheerfully. "We take turns getting each other out of trouble," he said happily, "I'm delighted to meet you, Louise." "I've heard a lot about you, Carl," she replied, "and it's good to meet you at last. I'm sorry it's not under better circumstances, though." "God's circumstances are always the best, Louise," Henry said, "If I hadn't been here to visit your family I wouldn't have run into Carl on the 72


street just when he needed sorting out, and Emma might not have got to the hospital on time." "If I hadn't been so selfish, Emma might have seen a doctor much sooner," Carl observed. "If, if, if," Louise said, "Just thank God that He's in charge!" "Amen!" Carl and Henry said together, and Henry kissed his fiancee on the cheek. "Daddy," Andrew said, tugging at his father's arm, "I'm going to play my flute for Uncle Henry's wedding, aren't I?" "He's really determined," Henry laughed, "ever since I introduced Louise to them last night as the woman I'm going to marry, he's been planning the music for the wedding." "It's over two years ago, isn't it," Carl said, "that Andrew announced he would play at your wedding? You probably didn't know Louise even existed then!" "You're right," Henry replied, "We met just three months ago, and we became engaged last week." "Have you set a date for the wedding?" "Two months' time—the 14th," Louise said, "I had to give two months' notice at work and I wanted to have a few weeks before the wedding to clean out my flat before I sell it." "That gives Emma plenty of time to recover from her illness, too," Henry said, "It would be a very special favour if you would play your flute at our wedding, Carl." "It would be a privilege to do so," Carl said softly, "You're a very special brother in Christ, Henry." "Daddy, when's Mummy coming home?" Helen asked. "I don't know, Helen," Carl answered, "We have to wait for Dr. Somsay to tell us she's well enough." "Are you going to come home now, Daddy?" Andrew asked hopefully. "Not right now, Andrew. I want to stay with Mummy today. I'll be home for tea, though." He looked at Henry and Louise, and added, "At least, if it's all right with you folks." "We assumed that you'd want to do that, Carl," Henry said, "We'll stay with the twins until you get home, no problem. Ben's looking after Benjamin and doing a great job." "Benjy likes Uncle Ben, Daddy!" Helen announced loudly, "Uncle Ben gives him special milk in a bottle, and Benjy went to sleep when Uncle Ben was singing to him!" "Ben was singing to Benjamin?" Carl asked Henry in astonishment. "He almost put me to sleep with his lullabies!" Henry laughed, "He seems to know dozens of them!" Carl grinned with amusement. "That man's full of surprises," he said, "Even after two months with us we keep discovering new things about him." "He told me his story," Louise said, "If I weren't a witness to the fact that at least three of your former counsellees are now your close friends—one of

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them, your wife, even—and if I didn't believe in miracles, I'd find it very hard to believe!" Henry patted Carl on the shoulder. "You'd better get back to that most special of your former counsellees, mate," he said gently, "We'll take these two back to the camper and see what we can do to entertain them this afternoon." "Thank you so much for bringing them, Henry," Carl said. He looked at his watch. "Let's see... I expect I can get home about six, is that okay with you?" "Fine. You get back to Emma now, and give her our love." "Can I give her your news, too?" "Of course! Speed up her recovery!" "I expect it will—she'll be thrilled to hear about Louise." "Come on, children," Henry said, "Give Daddy a big hug and let's go so he can go back to your Mummy." Andrew and Helen both climbed on Carl's lap and hugged and kissed him. "I'll see you two tonight," Carl said, hugging and kissing them back, "Be good for Uncle Henry and Auntie Louise, won't you?" "Yes, Daddy," Andrew said softly. "We will!" Helen exclaimed. They left the lounge and Henry and Louise and the children walked off towards the lifts. Carl headed back to the Isolation Ward, turning to wave to them before going through the doors. He put on a clean hospital gown and overshoes again, then walked down the hall back to Emma's room, his heart full of joy.

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CHAPTER 9 By the time Dr. Ng allowed Emma to go home, she had been in hospital almost ten days. He discharged her with strict instructions that she was to rest as much as possible the first week. "Let Carl and Ben and the children look after you," he said and, winking at Carl, added, "I'm sure that Carl will be more than willing." Carl reddened and smiled sheepishly. "Somsay," he said quietly, "I thank God for people like you." "Ho!" Somsay laughed, "We need all the help we can get, don't we, Carl? Once it was you who helped me. It has been my pleasure to help you this time. Now you go and help others and I will go and do the same." Emma was mystified by this exchange. She looked from Carl to Dr. Ng curiously. "What are you two going on about?" she asked. "Ask Henry to tell you about it," Somsay replied, "unless Carl is willing to tell you, of course." "I fully intend to tell Emma all about it, Somsay," Carl said gravely, "She knows me better than anyone else does." "Good for you, my friend," Somsay grinned, clapping him on the arm, "Your wife is one person to whom you should not be afraid to pour your heart out." "It's about time he got his own back," Emma laughed, "I'm the one who's usually flooding his ears with the contents of my heart!" Carl put his arm around her shoulders. "A not unpleasant flood, I must point out," he said, grinning, "Her heart is full of the things of God." He pulled his wife close. "How I thank the Lord that you got safely through this, Em!" he added warmly. Somsay smiled, and motioned them towards the door of his office. "Out of here, you two lovebirds," he grumbled cheerfully, "I have other patients to see! Come back and see me next week, Emma, just for a quick checkup." "I will," she replied, "but we'll see you before then, I hope." "I will drop by sometime on the weekend," Somsay agreed, and Carl and Emma left his office. As they walked down the corridor to the outpatients' waiting room, an office door ahead of them opened and Frank Helms saw a patient out. He glanced up the hall and caught sight of the Slades, and hurriedly disappeared back into his office. Emma stopped in surprise. "Wasn't that Frank?" she asked Carl. "Uh, yes, I think so," he replied hesitantly, "At least, it looked like him, and that's his office." "He acted as if he didn't want to see us!" "That's also my impression." "But why would he do that? I thought we were friends!" "Uh... It might have something to do with the talk I had with him last week," Carl muttered, "We did end up having a rather heated discussion..."

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"Tell me about it as we go home," Emma suggested. "All right," Carl said, "C'mon, let's go get a taxi." As they rode home, he began to tell his wife about his visit with Frank Helms. "When I asked him if we could get together for a chat sometime," he said, "he invited me to have tea with him at his house. That was a couple of days after Elsa had come to see you. So I went over there in the evening after checking that it was all right with Ben to leave him with the children for another couple of hours." "Ben's been wonderful, hasn't he?" Emma remarked. "I don't know what I'd have done without him, Em," he replied, "but he was glad when Rose arrived the next day to give us a hand." "I was glad to hear that she'd come, too. But get back to your visit with Frank..." "Mmmm. Well, tea was peaceful enough. We talked about you, about the children, about Ben, about Apmirra, and so on. I asked him a bit about his background—you know, about his family, his medical studies, how he met Elsa, and so on." "Where did he meet her?" "They were residents at the same hospital in Sydney." "Oh, how did they end up as consultants in the same hospital in Brown's Reef, then?" "It's a long story. I'll tell you another time. I want to tell you about our discussion. But here we are at the caravan park, so you'll have to wait until we're inside." As the taxi drove away, they walked towards their camper truck and passed the office on the way. The manager, Rob Norton, was just coming out and he called out to them. "Hello, Emma," he said cheerfully as they came over, "Good to see you back. You gave us all quite a scare! Good to have your better half back home, Carl?" "'Good' is an understatement, Rob," Carl replied, grinning. "I've got a message for you from your friend Henry," Rob said, "He rang around ten but Ben wasn't in, and I haven't seen him so I don't know if he's back yet or not. He took the children down to the park for a walk." "What did Henry have to say?" Emma asked. "Oh, yes. He said he and his fiancee will be over later, in the afternoon, and they'll be bringing a friend. He said he just wanted to warn you but don't prepare anything, they'll bring afternoon tea." "Oh," Emma said, "I wonder who his friend is?" "We'll find out this arvo, Em," Carl said, taking her hand, "Come on, Mrs. Slade, you're supposed to be resting, remember? Thanks Rob. Please excuse us, but I've got to get the patient home to rest. Doctor's orders." "Right you are, Carl," Rob laughed, "You look after her, now. Don't let her scare us like that again." "You can be sure he'll keep an eye on me, Rob," Emma said, grinning, "See you later." She gave Carl's hand a squeeze, and he smiled at her as they walked away. 76


At the camper they found that Ben had indeed come back with the children. The twins were in the camper, and they were all over their mother as soon as she walked into their home. She went to sit on the end of the double bed and hugged them both at once. "Benjy's sleeping, Mummy," Helen almost yelled in her excitement. Emma kissed her on the cheek. "Well, you'd better be a little quieter, then," she said, smiling at her daughter's enthusiasm. "Where's Uncle Ben?" Carl asked the children. "He went to get the clothes from the laundry block," Andrew said. "Come with me and we'll give him a hand, shall we?" Carl said. Andrew took his hand and father and son left the camper together. Helen proceeded to pull out all the pictures she had drawn while Emma was in hospital, to show them to her mother. Emma was still admiring them when Carl and Andrew came back with Ben, who carried in the basket of washing and put it down on his bunk. She got up and went to give him a quick hug. "Thank you so much for everything, Ben," she said, "for all you've done for us." "It's been a pleasure, Emma," Ben replied, "Your children are delightful and your friends and sister-in-law have been wonderful." "Which friends are you referring to?" Emma asked. "Well, Henry and Louise of course, and the Nortons, and Pastor Avdiev, and Dr. Ng, and a whole horde of other folk. As I told you when I went to see you yesterday, we haven't had to worry about meals at all—they've all been provided. Breakfast, lunch, tea, and even snacks!" At that point Benjamin woke up and started to cry softly, and Emma went to pick him up. She headed for the side of the bed and stopped as she saw a baby bed alongside it. "Oh," she exclaimed, "Where did this cot come from?" "Rose brought it with her," Ben said. "Isn't Rose wonderful?" Emma said, "Benjamin was outgrowing that drawer, so she brought it just in time!" "Speaking of Rose," Carl said, "Where is she?" "She went to do some shopping—should be back any minute," Ben replied, "We neither of us expected you to be back so quickly." Emma was sitting on the bed holding Benjamin and looking a bit lost. She wanted to do something about feeding him, but she felt quite unsure of herself. "Would you two mind very much if I close the curtain?" she asked, "I'm going to give Benjy a feed." "No, of course not," Ben answered, and proceeded to draw it across for her. "Can we sit with you, Mummy?" Andrew asked. "If you promise to be very quiet and still so Benjy doesn't get distracted." "We'll be really, really quiet, Mummy," Helen said, settling herself on her stomach on the end of the bed. Andrew sat down with his back against the bedhead, next to his mother. "Would you mind if I also come in there with you, Em?" Carl asked.

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"Please do, Carl," she replied, "I think you'll have to tell me all about elephants again." Carl chuckled as he saw the startled expression on Ben's face. "Remember Benjy's first day, Ben?" he asked, grinning, "That's when Emma suddenly developed an interest in young pachyderms." He went to join his wife behind the curtain, leaving Ben looking quite bemused. "Have you got any milk, Em?" Carl asked as he sat down next to her on the bed. "I've still got milk," she answered, "but I think it'll take some doing to get it flowing. And Benjy isn't the most competent breastfeeder I've ever come across, you know." "How about we ask the Inventor of this whole business to give us some help, then, eh?" "Please, Carl, do." Carl prayed quietly, asking God to enable Benjamin to suckle properly, and to make Emma's milk flow. He put his arm around her and drew her to his side so that she could lean against him as she had done the morning after Benjamin's birth. The baby was having trouble again. He'd got used to a feeding bottle while Emma was sick and he was struggling now to get a feed from his mother. Carl felt that Emma was beginning to tense up, and he started to hum softly. He had to hum several bars before Emma recognised the tune as one of the twins' favourite songs—about elephants. She giggled as she recalled Carl's incongruous comment that first time she had fed Benjamin. "I think we'll be all right," she said to Carl as she smiled down at their baby, "Your musical ruse worked." "Praise God," Carl replied softly. He continued to hum quietly. After some time he felt Emma relax completely, and he realised that she had fallen asleep. He glanced at the twins and saw that they, too, were sleeping, as was Benjamin, in his mother's arms. Very gently he took Benjamin from her and put him in his cot, then carefully he moved her down the bed until she was lying down. He did the same with Andrew. Then he slipped out to the other side of the curtain. "Mother and children all asleep," he announced softly to Ben, who was sorting the laundry on the table. "You would go and hum lullabies," Ben said, "and by the way, speaking about humming, I was humming something while I was changing Benjy this morning, and Helen suddenly came and interrupted me to ask me a most extraordinary question." "Oh?" Carl said almost absently as he looked through the kitchen cupboard for something to prepare for lunch, "What was that?" "She said, 'Uncle Jack is Mummy's brother. Are you Daddy's brother, Uncle Ben?'" Carl turned around, a packet of food in each hand, and smiled at him. "What did you answer?" he asked. "I said, 'Of course I am, Helen. Only not in quite the same way,'" Ben replied, not looking at Carl but at the shirt he was folding, "I told her that we didn't have the same parents, but we both belong to Jesus." 78


Ben's words had such an effect on Carl that he stood staring speechlessly at him. Ben glanced up at him and the look on Carl's face made him think he had said something wrong. "You said that? Really?" Carl said softly, at last. "Really," Ben said hesitantly, "It's the truth, isn't it? Do you mind?" "Ben," Carl said, still softly, "do you have any idea how it makes me feel, to hear that you called me your brother?" "I'm sorry, Carl," Ben said apologetically, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything..." "Hurt my feelings?" Carl exclaimed, "Hardly! It underlines what you told me the other day, about the past, you know. Do you realise that four of my former counsellees are among my closest friends? One of them is my wife! You, of all people, are another one. And then there's Henry, and Chester Brown up in Kawanyama. Out of all my former counsellees you're probably the one with the most reasons for hating me, yet here you are calling me your brother!" "I stopped hating you two months ago, Carl, the day after Benjamin was born," Ben said quietly, "Miracles do happen, and your being my brother is one of them. And you have been a true brother to me. I can't thank God enough for you and your family." "We can't thank Him enough for you, Ben," Carl grinned, and gave his friend a hug which Ben was only too happy to reciprocate. But then he looked seriously at Carl, and asked him to sit down a moment. Carl did so, still with the packets of food in his hands. "Carl," Ben said gravely, "Because I'm your brother, and because I love you and Emma as my brother and sister, I've decided to move out as soon as Emma's well. No, don't tell me not to, mate! I've made up my mind. It's been wonderful being part of your family, and I'm deeply grateful for all that you folks have done for me, but this camper is too small and you two don't have enough privacy with me here. I don't have to live with you—I can afford to rent a room or a flat somewhere. Emma and you have to have privacy when you need it, not just when I happen to be out." "I see what you mean, Ben," Carl said softly, "You're more aware of what's been going on than I thought." "Which is hardly surprising, right?" Ben said, "We live in the same room, after all." He took a deep breath before going on. "About three weeks ago I overheard a heated discussion between you two," he said quietly, "I'd just gone out to the shower block and realised I'd left my towel behind, and I was just about to come in to get it when I heard you. That was when I thought of taking the children out for a few hours now and then." "And then the first time you did that was when Emma fell ill..." "Yes, and while she's been ill I've been doing some thinking. You need a normal married life, Carl. You've got enough pressures on you from your work without the added stress of my continual presence in your home." Carl knew he was right, and despite his reluctance to see Ben leave, he didn't contradict him. "We'll miss you, Ben," he said.

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Ben laughed quietly. "Oh, I'll still come and visit you, don't worry!" he said. "We'll still be travelling, though." "That's no problem. I intend to keep track of you. I don't think I can keep away from you folks for too long at a time. When you get a large estate or mansion, and settle down, now, I just might come back to live with you all." "I'll remember that. You never know where we'll end up. Maybe we'll even have a farm one day. I wouldn't mind that, and we'd certainly be wanting extra hands, then. Only God knows what He's got up His sleeve for us." "Yeah—the Lord likes to surprise us, doesn't He..."

! ! ! After lunch, Ben went out to buy some groceries and the twins went to play with the Norton children. As they sat at the table having a cup of tea after clearing up, Emma reminded Carl that he hadn't finished telling her about his conversation with Frank Helms. "You got as far as asking him about his background," she said, "Then what happened? By the way, have you told Ben about your visit with Frank?" "Yes, I had to tell him—I was pretty upset when I got home, and he wanted a full explanation." "What happened that got you so upset, then?" "Well, Frank had just finished telling me how he and Elsa managed to get positions at Brown's Reef hospital, and that sort of naturally led on to their relationship. I mentioned to him that Elsa had come to visit you and that she was rather upset when we asked her how he was...

! ! ! "Yes," Frank said, "I'm not surprised she was upset. Did she tell you that I asked her to move out?" "She did," Carl replied. "Did she tell you why?" "She said you told her you were living in sin." "Well, that's right, and I said that unless she became a Christian too she'd have to move back to her own place." "Why did you say that?" "I've become a Christian, and I've been talking with one of the local pastors, and he pointed out that it was sin to live together without being married." "So you asked Elsa to leave..." "What else could I do?" "Why didn't you marry her?" "She's not a Christian! She's not even interested!" "So why is that a problem?" 80


Frank stared at Carl in astonishment. "You're an evangelist and you're asking me that?" he exclaimed. Carl looked puzzled. "I don't see what being an evangelist has to do with it," he said. "Aren't you familiar with the passage of Scripture that says we mustn't be yoked with unbelievers?" Frank asked, frowning. "Of course I know it," Carl replied, "I can't see that it applies in this case, though. I'd have thought one Corinthians seven twelve was more to the point." "I don't understand." "If I recall rightly, you two have been living together as if married for some years. Is that right?" "Well, yes, we have. That's right." "In that case, you're married already, in God's eyes, anyway." "That's not what my pastor told me!" Frank exclaimed. He was very much on the defensive now, and spoke more vehemently than he'd intended. "What did your pastor tell you?" Carl asked quietly. "That we were living in sin, that we had to stop and repent, and that we couldn't marry until we were both Christians." "But can't you see that you are married—all you need is to make it legal?" "How can you say we're married? We've never been through any ceremony or made any vows!" "When a man and a woman come together physically they become one flesh," Carl said, "That is what the Bible tells us, and it is no accident that all over the world that is the thing that validates every marriage ceremony— the physical coming together. In your case, you've not only become one flesh with Elsa, you've also been a husband to her in every other way. Until now, that is. Telling her to leave was the same thing as divorcing her. Can't you see that?" "All she had to do was to convert!" Frank blurted out. "You make it sound as if conversion is no different from changing one's clothes, Frank," Carl remarked softly, "Is that how you turned to Christ?" "You've got very personal, Carl," Frank replied coldly, "Much too personal." "It's a very personal situation," Carl said, "and there are two persons involved in it. I happen to be aware that the other person doesn't want to hear the name of Jesus Christ, let alone anything about Him, just because of the hurt she's experienced." "What is that supposed to mean?" "Your attitude has turned Elsa away from Christ." "And you think if I married her she'd turn to Him?" "I don't know. What I do know is that if you married her you'd have the opportunity to show her Christ's love in action every day. At least that's what I assume..." "What are you implying, Carl?" Frank's tone was now quite hostile. "Do you think I'm implying something?" Carl asked, "What?" "I get the distinct impression you're suggesting that I'm not a Christian." 81


"Frank!" Carl exclaimed, "I'm not suggesting that for one moment! If you tell me that you believe that Jesus Christ is God and He died to save you from sin and reconcile you to God, I take your word for it. At least for some time. The truth of your believing would soon be evident in your life, wouldn't it? You're only a very new Christian, Frank. I'm not asking questions about evidence of the Fruit of the Spirit. You say you're my brother in Christ, I take your word for it. What I'm trying to do is to stop a potential disaster, Frank, not question your faith." "You mean you're messing about in other people's business!" Frank just about shouted, "You're trying to tell me you know better than the Bible or than a trained pastor!" He stood up and pointed to the door. "Get out, Carl," he said in a strained voice, "Just because you were once a Police Counsellor doesn't give you the right to poke your nose in other people's lives. Please leave now." "Goodbye, Frank," Carl said softly. The pain he felt from having had his past used against him in this way was too strong, and he got up and left the house without further ado. Frank slammed the door behind him, making him wince. He walked up the street for a few blocks, his heart in turmoil. He felt sick at the thought that he'd probably said all the wrong things and had been judgmental. Oh, God, he prayed silently, please don't let this mess I've made destroy Frank's faith or his love for Elsa. Please sort all this out and forgive me for my foolishness... When he reached the main road he hailed a taxi, and returned to the caravan park. He walked very slowly from the gate to his camper truck, and went in. Ben was sitting at the table, cradling Benjamin and feeding him from a bottle. "Evening, mate," Ben said as he came in the door, then added with concern, "Are you okay? You look all washed out." "The evening didn't end quite as pleasantly as it should have," Carl said wearily as he sat down at the table, facing Ben, and leant his head on his hands, "I put my foot in it and spoilt it." He looked around at the twins' berths. "Are the children asleep?" he asked. "All except the Benjamin," Ben answered, grinning, "They've both been asleep for the last hour, on your bed. I was reading to them and they just dropped off within seconds of each other. I thought I'd wait to move them until you got home. Would you like a cuppa? Kettle's still hot. If you take this hungry child for a minute I'll make you one." "Thanks, Ben," Carl said, taking Benjamin and his bottle from him, "You're amazing the way you've taken on these children without batting an eyelash. It's been an incredible blessing." Ben smiled wryly as he prepared a mug of tea for Carl. "I guess in a way your children are substitutes for my own kids," he said, "Even after all these years I still miss my kids, Carl. There's something very familiar about three children, the youngest with Down's, for me. On the other hand, I'm very happy to be of help to you folks, and I do enjoy Helen and Andrew's company." 82


"I was just thinking about the contrast between all you've been doing for us and how I treated you back in the Institute." "That is all gone, Carl! Please, don't ever bring it up again. Ever. You should know by now that as far as I'm concerned it might as well never have happened." Carl found himself without any answer to Ben's words. That the man who'd thought of nothing but revenge when he'd first recognised him should now, only two months later, be making such a statement filled him with wonder. After Frank Helm's outburst, Ben's words were like a soothing ointment to him. "I wish I could start this evening all over again," he muttered, "I wish I hadn't gone to Frank's." Ben placed a mug of tea on the table in front of him and sat down again. "What went wrong at Frank's?" he asked, "If you don't mind telling me, that is."

! ! ! "So I had to tell Ben what had happened," Carl explained to Emma, "and it's just as well I did, because the first thing he did as soon as I finished talking was to tell me that I had done the right thing, and then he went on to pray for me and for Frank and Elsa." "What else could I do?" Ben said as he came into the camper, "Couldn't help overhearing you, Carl." He pointed to the open window above the sink. "Sorry." "That's all right, Ben," Emma said, "We weren't exchanging secrets." Ben stood by the door looking pensive. "You know," he said slowly, at last, "I think I might take on the Frank and Elsa case. If you'll let me." "How do you mean?" Carl asked. "I think I know how to reach Frank." "Well, if that's the case, Ben, go for it! I don't think he's too keen to see me at the moment!" "So I gathered," Ben replied. He started putting the groceries he had bought into the cupboard. He stopped suddenly and turned to Emma. "I almost forgot, Emma," he grinned, "Welcome home!" He handed her a jar of her favourite nuts and bowed to her. "Thank you, Ben," Emma smiled, "That's lovely of you. I haven't had any of these for such a long time. Do you mind if I share them with Carl? He likes them too, you know." "I don't mind at all. Just don't offer me any—I can't stand them!" "What can't you stand, Ben?" At the sound of Rose's voice all three of them turned towards the door. "Those nuts that Emma's crazy about," Ben explained, pointing to the jar. Rose put a parcel down on the bunk below Ben's and came over to Emma to give her a hug. "Welcome home, Em," she said warmly, "It's so good to have you out of that hospital."

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"I'm glad to be home, Rose," Emma said, "and I'm also glad that you're still here. Have you heard from Jack?" "Yes, I rang him this morning to let him know you were coming out. He's fine, busy as ever, thoroughly enjoying life, and he sends his love. He said we've got a letter from Mike and his wife, and you should be getting one soon, too." Carl sensed that unless he intervened, Emma and Rose might be deep in conversation all afternoon. "Em, I think it's time you had a nap now," he said, "Somsay stressed that you have to rest, and you know Henry and Louise are coming over later." Emma smiled at him and patted her sister-in-law's arm. "Carl's right, Rose," she said, "We can talk some more later on. I should take advantage of the twins' being over at the Nortons' and Benjy's being asleep." She got up and went over to the double berth and began pulling the curtain across. "See you all later," she said, and closed it completely. Ben looked at Carl mischievously, and slapped him gently on the back. "You're going to be keeping an eagle eye on her health now, aren't you?" he said, "You do that, mate. I'll be cheering you on."

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CHAPTER 10 While Emma rested, Rose and Carl tidied up the camper, and Ben sorted and put away the washing. "Did Henry say what time he'd be getting here?" Rose asked Carl. "Apparently not," Carl replied, "At least, the Nortons couldn't give me a time. All I know is that he and Louise are coming with afternoon tea and a mystery guest!" "Mmmm... I wonder who that can be?" Rose said. Carl shrugged and grinned at her. "Your guess is as good as mine." "I gather Louise was the one who wanted it to be a secret," Ben said. "Louise is a lovely person, isn't she?" Rose said after a moment, "Just the sort of wife Henry needs." "She's not his wife yet," Carl pointed out. "I know that," his sister-in-law laughed, "What I mean is that she'll be a good wife to him." Carl smiled. "I know what you mean, Rose," he said, "I was just teasing you." He sat down at the table and took his pocket Bible out. "If you two don't mind," he said to Rose and Ben, "I'd like to have a bit of a read before they get here." He held the book in both hands, turning it over and over pensively. "I'll have to get another one of these soon," he murmured, "This one's falling apart." He opened it and showed it to Ben. "Look at this—the margin's just about worn away!" "It wasn't exactly new when Jack handed it to you that night," Rose commented, "I think he'd given it to Emma on her thirtieth birthday." "I'm surprised it's lasted this long," Ben said, "the way you take it everywhere and read it all the time!" "A very special book, this one," Carl mused, "and not just because it's a Bible..." "Henry told me how you almost lost it that time, back in Goldridge," Rose said. "Mmmm," Carl replied, looking up at Rose, "Speaking of Henry, I have to admit that I'm very relieved that he's getting married again. He was awfully lonely and besides, a pastor needs a wife. The burden of looking after a church is too big for one man on his own." "He wasn't on his own, though, was he?" Rose said, "He'd be the first one to point out that God is the one who looks after the church—he just does the fetching and carrying." "And some!" Carl exclaimed, "Funny, isn't it—Henry's the kind of man who seems to be a simpleton, at first glance." "Because he's so quiet, and he has that speech problem, you mean?" Rose asked. Carl hesitated before answering. "He didn't always have that speech problem, you know," he said softly.

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Rose gave him a searching look. "You mean—you gave it to him," she said. "You can put it that way," Carl said, grimacing, "That's how frightened he was." "I can relate to that," Ben said quietly, and smiled at Carl. He held up the kettle. "I think I'll put on some water to boil." "There's no rush," Carl said, "They're not here yet." He turned back to Rose. "Yes," he said, "What I did to Henry back then was loathsome." "Well, Henry doesn't hold it against you, Carl," Rose added, "Does he?" "On the contrary," Emma said, coming out through the curtain which hid the double berth, "As you know, Henry didn't even let on he'd ever met Carl before, when they first met in Goldridge. He's like Jack—he doesn't bear grudges, ever." She put her arms around Carl's waist and smiled up at him. "If Jack bore grudges you wouldn't be here discussing Henry, would you?" "And if Henry bore grudges, chances are the Protectioners would have got back in power," Carl added, hugging her. "Just like you lot to leave me out of the picture!" a deep voice said from outside. "Ron!" Emma and Carl exclaimed together. "Ron? Here?" Rose asked. In answer to her question a man looked in at the door. His curly dark hair, neat mustache, bright hazel eyes, and firmly set mouth gave him a decidedly mischievous air. "May I come in?" he asked, and promptly came up the steps without waiting for an answer. He bowed to Rose, who laughed and bowed back, and hugged both Carl and Emma together. Henry and Louise followed into the camper behind him. Ben was still standing by the sink, holding the kettle which he'd just filled with water and looking like he felt somewhat out of place. Ron turned to him, looked him up and down critically, and turned back to Carl. "Who's this?" he asked suspiciously. Ben waited for Carl's answer, frowning at Ron. He'd heard enough about the Inspector to know not to react to his behaviour. "That," Carl said seriously, "is my brother." Ben just about dropped the kettle. "Your brother?" Ron asked, in unfeigned astonishment, "I thought you were an only child!" Carl couldn't avoid smiling at his reaction. "God has many children," he said, "and Ben Clark is another of His special ones." Ron gazed at him a moment, glanced at Ben, whose face was a study in barely-controlled emotion, and looked back at Carl. "I see," he said simply. He raised an eyebrow, and Carl nodded slowly. "Ben's been living with us since Benjy was born," he explained. Ron recovered himself and looked sternly at Ben. "Were you about to boil some water for afternoon tea?" he asked, pointing to the kettle with his chin. Ben looked down at the kettle which he was now holding with both hands. "Uh—yes," he said, and handed it to Ron. "Here—why don't you do

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it?" he suggested, "I have to go out for a minute." Ron took the kettle from him, and he hurried out of the truck. Rose followed him out. The rest of the group had watched this interchange in silence, but now Henry sighed deeply, and this had the effect of waking everyone up. Ron put the kettle in its stand and switched it on. He tapped Carl's arm and winked. "Do you still play the flute, my friend?" he asked with a grin. "Do you still have a bad leg?" Carl riposted. Ron looked down at his legs and pulled up each trouser leg in turn, then straightened up and shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't remember which one it was," he said. "I can pull one of them for you, if you'd like," Henry offered, "After all, you did it for me countless times. It's about time I repaid you." "Hey, wait on!" Carl said, "Emma was just saying you don't bear grudges, Henry!" The pastor looked at Emma thoughtfully a moment, then sank down onto the seat by the table. "You would spoil my fun by reminding me!" he said, and burst into laughter. Ben and Rose came in at that moment, and Rose asked what the joke was. Louise explained as best she could, for she wasn't quite sure she'd understood. Ron sat down next to Henry and patted his shoulder. "You can pull my leg some other time, Henry," he said consolingly, "I'm sure you'll get other opportunities." "I'll make them, Ron!" Henry said wickedly, rubbing his hands together. Rose turned to Louise and rolled her eyes. "D'you reckon you can live with this man twenty-four hours a day for the next fifty years? she asked. "And enjoy it!" Louise laughed, "Do you know how he proposed? He took me out to dinner at one of those expensive restaurants in the centre of town, said absolutely nothing at all during the appetiser and main course—so much so that I was getting quite worried—then during desert he got up, came to my side of the table, got down on one knee, took my hand, and asked me if I would be his wife! He didn't wait for me to answer—he just whipped out this ringbox, took the ring out, slipped it onto my finger, and announced to everyone there that he hadn't expected 'No' for an answer and he wasn't going to give me a chance to say 'No'!" "He's been taking lessons from Ron," Carl muttered. "What on earth did you do?" Emma asked. "What could I do?" Louise smiled, "I put my arms around him and kissed him! Like this!" She leant over the table and kissed Henry loudly on the mouth, causing everyone to laugh. Henry blushed crimson, and Ron hurriedly got up and moved away. "You'll survive, Louise," Rose chuckled. Carl frowned in puzzlement at Ron, who shrugged. "I was afraid she might get me, too," he explained, "I wouldn't want Henry to start holding grudges, especially against me."

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Rob Norton had come up to the door of the camper and was looking in. "Where do you pick up these wacky friends of yours, Carl?" he asked cheerfully. Carl grinned and shrugged. "I don't pick them up," he replied. Emma smiled and took her husband's arm. "We were forced on him, Rob," she said, "but he hasn't complained." "You'll have to tell me about it sometime," Rob said, "but not right now. I have to get back to work. I just thought I'd ask you if you want your children to come home, seeing as your guests are here." "Yes, please," Emma said, "I'm sure they'd be disappointed if they miss Uncle Ron!" "Right-oh! I'll send them along. See you later." "I thought your place was awfully quiet," Ron observed, "No twins. And where's this famous third child I've heard about? I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him yet." "He's still asleep," Emma said, "but he should be waking up soon." "Have you ever seen a child with Down's, Ron?" Rose asked carefully, wanting to prepare him for Benjamin's appearance, "They look different from other babies." Ron was uncharacteristically reticent with his answer, and seemed very uncomfortable. "I saw many of them, Rose..." he said very softly, avoiding the gaze which Ben suddenly riveted on him. "Where?" Ben asked. Ron looked at him dumbly. "Where?" he echoed. "Where did you see them?" Ben asked pointedly. Ron plainly did not want to talk about it, and it was his turn to suddenly leave the camper. Carl and Ben both hurried after him. He hadn't gone very far before they caught up with him. Carl stopped him, took his arm firmly, and led him to one of the picnic tables in the garden, Ben following them. "I know where you saw them, Ron," Carl said softly when they'd sat down, "and I also know why. You can tell Ben—in fact, it's better if you do. One of them was his daughter." Ron stared sadly at Ben. "I know," he whispered, "Clare Melanie Clark. I haven't forgotten any of their names, you know. Strange, isn't it? But then, it's always been part of my job to remember names. And I did know who Ben was, actually. That's why I was so surprised when you said he was your brother, you know, Carl. I'd looked up the Police Institute records in the archives when you wrote to me about this fellow you met on the road and who was staying in the camper with you." He smiled briefly at the two men. "It's the detective in me, I'm afraid—I have to investigate every hunch." He swallowed hard and sighed, wringing his hands on the table in front of him. "They were at the Experimental Farm, Ben. I was there because of a case we—the Investigations Bureau, that is—were looking into. I was waiting to interview Dr. Dillmon about some of his staff when they brought in a large group of handicapped children..." He brushed both hands through his hair and then, leaning his elbows on the table, he covered his face. "The Police Officers were herding them—literally. They had stunners and they were 88


using them. Oh, God!" Ron buried his face on his arms, overwhelmed by the memory of what he had witnessed. Carl glanced at Ben. He was sitting rigidly, staring at Ron, his face as white as a sheet. Carl put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped. "Relax, mate," Carl said quietly, and Ben took a deep breath. Ron lifted his head and ran his hands through his hair again. "Sorry," he muttered, "The memory was too much..." "We understand, Ron," Carl said, "Do you think you can go on?" "Yeah..." Ron looked at Ben. "Do you want me to?" he asked gently. "How did you find out their names?" Ben asked. "It's a habit of mine, putting names to faces," Ron said, "I decided I needed theirs for my investigation. Just like that. I didn't have to give a reason, not to those Police Officers, anyway. I was Chief of the Investigations Bureau, after all. I just demanded a copy of the CD with their records, and they gave it to me." Ben nodded. "Where were they taking the children?" he asked hesitantly. "To the— To the—" Ron stammered, and fell silent, looking down at his hands on the table. "I can't tell you, Ben. I just can't do it," he said almost in a whisper, "I'm sorry." Ben didn't know whether to press him or not, and Carl saw his confusion. "I know where they were going, Ben," he said softly, "Do you want me to tell you?" Ron looked up quickly, his face ashen. "Don't!" he said, "Please don't!" Ben looked from one to the other. It was plain to him now that his daughter must have died a horrible death—and all those other children, too. And all the handicapped people he'd caused to be sent to the Experimental Farm when he'd been an Enwuh Officer... "No," he whispered, "Don't tell me." He put his head down on his arms on the table and wept. Carl kept his hand on his shoulder and covered his own face with his free hand. Ron got up suddenly and walked off rapidly towards the shower block. When he came back a few minutes later, his face still white, and his eyes red, he found Ben and Carl praying together. Emma had joined them and both she and Carl had their arms around their friend. He sat down at the table and joined in silently with them. When they'd finished praying, Emma looked up and saw how pale Ron was. "Are you all right?" she asked him. "Yes," he replied, "I'm okay now. Some memories are a bit hard on one... I never thought I'd react like this, after all this time." "I'm not surprised," Carl said quietly, "I feel queasy myself, and it's longer ago that I witnessed what went on at the Farm." Ben looked from one to the other. "It really was that bad?" he whispered. Ron gazed at him silently a moment, and nodded slowly. "It was," Carl agreed, "Gerard Dillmon was a man without feelings, and he had free rein at the Experimental Farm. I was terrified of the place even when I was on the Protectioners' side." Ben got up and walked away from them a short distance. There was a rockery in the middle of the garden, and he stared down at the flowers 89


blooming among its stones and cactuses. He thought of someone coming and pulling the rockery apart petal by petal, stone by stone, slowly. All those children... His child... His wife... He stood there for some time before turning back to his friends. "As long as I live," he said quietly but firmly, "I will fight against that kind of evil with all my might. I'll do all I can so that children like Benjy will be treated as the special people they are. All people are special, but those who are handicapped deserve special care and consideration." "You can count on me to be in on that," Ron said. Carl put his arm around Emma's shoulder. "And us," he said. Ben sat down again, next to Ron this time. He sighed. "I'm glad that my wife and child are with the Lord. I don't know where the other two are, but I do know He's got His eye on them too, and I can trust Him." He was silent again for a few moments, then turned to Ron suddenly. "I've heard a lot about you, Ron, and it's all good," he said, "but one thing puzzles me. Tell me, mate—why is it you've never married?" Ron took a deep breath and looked pleadingly at the sky. "You do ask some awkward questions, don't you, Ben?" he said. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not," Ben said hastily, afraid that he had hit another painful memory of Ron's. The Inspector stood up and walked around a moment, his hands in his pockets. Carl and Emma knew the answer to Ben's question, but they said nothing and waited for Ron to decide whether he'd tell Ben. Ron wheeled around suddenly and came up close to Ben. "Tell me, mate," he said meaningfully, "Why did Carl marry Emma?" Ben, completely baffled by Ron's apparently irrelevant question, and his change in manner, looked at Emma and Carl in confusion. "Uh... because he liked her, I guess," he said slowly, and turned back to look at Ron. "He fell in love with her?" he asked. "Wrong," Ron said, in his best Inspector's manner intended to make criminal suspects feel intimidated, "You've got it all wrong." By this time Emma had noticed the gleam in Ron's eyes and she knew he'd recovered from the painful reminiscing he'd gone through a few minutes before. She knew, too, that this particular memory was not a painful one for him, and she was amused at Ron's acting. She squeezed Carl's arm and he glanced at her questioningly. Ben was not looking at them, so he didn't see her wink at Carl, who smiled and nodded. It was all he could do, all of a sudden, to keep a straight face. Ben was having his first encounter with Ron Velasquez. Ron stood up and started walking back and forth behind Ben, along the length of the table. He spoke mysteriously, as if to announce an important clue in a complicated case, and at each end of the table he punctuated his words by hitting the table with his fist. "Carl married Emma," he said, "because she was the first person who understood him perfectly. And why was that? Because Carl is a non-conformist and so is she, and they are both madly in love with God. Also, he was over forty years old and it was about

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time he had a wife, so God arranged for him to meet Emma about the same time he met Jesus Christ. A perfect match. So, there you are." Ben's stunned silence was broken only by Carl's sudden laughter. He jumped up and went around the table to Ron, put one arm carefully around his neck and pretended to pummel him on the head with his other hand. "Have mercy on the poor man!" he ordered, chuckling, "Hasn't he suffered enough for one day?" Ron extricated himself from Carl's grasp and put both hands on his shoulders. He made a vain attempt to look Carl in the eye, a rather difficult thing for him to do as Carl was a head taller than him. Carl himself was still shaking with laughter, but Ron was as serious as he could be. "He asked the question," he said ominously, "and he will have the answer! But he will have it my way!" Emma had put her head down on her arms, she was laughing so hard, and Ben was more confused than ever. "What on earth is so funny?" he asked weakly. Carl sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. "Haven't you guessed yet?" he asked, grinning. "Uh, no," Ben replied helplessly, his eyes moving from Emma to Ron and back to Carl, "I don't understand." "Ron is being himself," Emma said, as if it explained everything. Carl could see that Ben was still non-plussed. "Inspector Velasquez gets his own back at people who ask awkward questions by giving them the legpulling treatment..." he said. "Ah," Ben said, and grinned, "I see." He got up and, taking Ron by the shoulders, shook him not too gently. "All right, Inspector," he said menacingly, "have pity on me and just answer my question!" Ron shrugged. "All right, all right!" he said, "Since you're such a glutton for punishment, why not? You'd better sit down, though. This is not for weak stomachs." He sat down at the table. "And I'm not pulling your leg," he added. Ben sat down, and so did Carl. Ron stretched his arms and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. He spoke very quietly, not looking at Ben now. "I had a big problem, Ben," he said, "and as I just said, I'm not joking now." He sighed deeply. "I was attracted to men," he continued, before I became a Christian. I was a homosexual. I was a very Straight Thinker, you know, and did very well with political connections, so in the end I got to the top of the Investigations Bureau. And then one day I met Jack Winston. I liked him, to my surprise, because I knew who he was, and it wasn't for the wrong reasons I liked him, either. He knew about my inclinations and my lifestyle, which was hardly surprising, since I was a government official. He told me there and then, knowing full well what the consequences might be for him—remember, this was a high government official he was addressing, and he knew who I was—he told me that my behaviour was an abomination to God Almighty and that unless I changed and turned from it I was doomed to spend eternity in hell. Not one to mince his words, Jack. My first reaction was to want to punch him in the face, but I thought better of it because I 91


didn't want to attract the attention of any Enwuh reps. If I were caught talking with Jack it would be a question of conclusions formed, sentence passed, sentence executed, before anyone would think of asking what I was doing talking to the leader of the Rebels. So instead I gave him some choice vocabulary, and would you believe, he didn't even wince! He just asked me very quietly if I understood what I'd just said, and I couldn't answer him—I hadn't expected that kind of a reaction! Then he asked if we could just sit down for a few minutes so he could explain something to me. I was curious—you have to be curious in my line of work—so I said it was all right by me. Well, talk about the Gospel in a nutshell! And the way he told me! I know now how he knew the right words to say to reach me, but of course I didn't then! The next thing I knew he'd slipped a small Bible into my pocket, told me to read it, and he'd gone. Thirty seconds later an Enwuh rep came and sat down at the other end of the bench, right where he'd been sitting! Jack was never actually put in prison although he was under house arrest at one point, so you know he hadn't got caught and I certainly didn't report him. As nonchalantly as I could I went back to my flat. I felt as if that book in my pocket had to be visible to everyone I passed! When I got home, I sat down and started reading it, and I just read and read the rest of that day and the whole night—just as well the next day was Sunday! On the Monday I went to work a completely different man. And I mean different! At first I had no idea how I was going to avoid betraying the fact that I'd become a Christian, since my change in lifestyle was bound to be noticed. But I found a way—and blamed Personality Pills. You might recall that once in a while the temporary change induced by those drugs would be permanent, especially if one used them often. For reasons which I will not go into now I had actually had to use them now and then, so I just announced that it seemed I'd taken them once too often. A checkup by the medics even confirmed it!" "I remember that," Carl said, "It was the joke of the month. Peculiar sense of humour we Protectioners had." "Everybody thought it was really funny, didn't they?" Ron said, "The Chief of the Investigations Bureau changes his sexual preference overnight! Little did they know!" "It's not funny, though," Ben muttered, "What if they'd found you out? Where would we all be now? There'd have been no Underground, Emma would have been taken to the Farm and died there, and Carl would have died when they shot him—or worse, he might never have come to Christ! And the Protectioners would still be in power. It's not at all amusing." "No, you're right, it isn't funny," Ron said soberly, "There's nothing funny about evil." Carl shuddered, and pulled Emma closer. "Thank God things went the way they did," he said, "Thank God for Jack, too." "Amen," Ron said softly. "Anyway, go on," Ben said, "I still don't know why you're not married." "Oh, come on, Ben," Ron said, "I couldn't foist on any woman a husband whose life was daily at risk—remember that if I'd been found out, that I was 92


a Christian, I'd have been shot for treason. And anyway, I had the same problem Carl had even before he turned to Christ—there weren't any women in the company I kept, to my knowledge, whom I'd consider marrying. I didn't meet any unattached Christian women until much later." "Well, what was the problem then?" Ben asked. "Ben," Carl asked quietly, "How many women have you met who could survive Ron for more than twenty-four hours straight?" "What? Is he always like that?" Ben exclaimed. "An awful lot of the time," Emma giggled. Ron spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. "That's me," he said, shrugging, "I think Louise might conceivably have been able to cope with the likes of me. But by the time Louise came along, Henry was unfortunately well-trained... On the other hand, Henry's a better match for her. Not only does he have a terrific sense of humour—I should know, I discovered it—but he's a true man of God and he'll love her as Christ loves the church." He grinned happily. "I don't mind, really," he said, "I'm used to being on my own now, and I find most of the time that I've been granted the gift of Paul the Apostle." "Huh?" Ben said. "Celibacy," Ron said, "One Corinthians, chapter seven, verse seven. By the grace of God." Ben gazed at him wonderingly. "You're right," he said softly, "It is by the grace of God. All these years since my beloved wife died... Even when I was a long way from Him... And it's never occurred to me to thank Him for it." He turned to look at Carl and Emma and discovered that they had gone back towards the camper. "I guess we ought to go back, or the others will wonder what's happened to us," he said to Ron, and got up. Ron stood up and stretched, and shook the hand Ben held out to him. "Thanks, Ron," Ben said warmly, "Thanks for being frank." "No, that's my middle name," Ron said, "My first name's Ron." Ben stared at him speechlessly for a few seconds, and then Ron grinned, said, "Ronald Francis Velasquez," and the two of them laughed all the way back to the Slades' camper.

! ! ! A short while later, the Slades and their guests were all staring at Ron, who'd just made an announcement to them. "Well, Ron, you have me floored," Carl said, sitting back on the bench seat. Emma was standing by the sink, getting things ready for afternoon tea. "You have both of us floored," she added. "It's something of a surprise to me, too," Ben said, "I'd understood that you were reasonably sane, despite your deplorable sense of humour." "Ah!" Ron said, leaning forwards to poke his shoulder with a finger, "You shouldn't put people in boxes, should you?"

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"But why on earth do you want to go into Parliament?" Carl asked, "Didn't you get enough of politics back in the Protectorate?" "And before," Ron answered, "Yes, I did—of Protection politics, that is. Now I have a chance to make a difference in a democratic government, and I think I ought to take it. Running for the House is how I can do it." "So you've gone and put your name on the ticket as an independent candidate," Ben said, "Well, it's a free country—go ahead and run. Why not? It's your sanity, not mine, that's at stake." "Is that your opinion of government?" Ron asked him. "Ron," Ben answered, leaning over the table towards him, and speaking in a low voice, slowly, "As far back as I can remember no government in this country has done the right thing, and the last two caused me a great deal of suffering. I have a very low opinion of anyone in politics, I'm afraid. That's why I'm dismayed by your announcement." He sat back on the seat and went on, "Now, I admit that I don't know you very well, although I've heard a lot about you and from what Emma and Carl have told me you're a man of integrity and an exemplary Christian. Your sense of humour is a bit overwhelming to someone who's new to it, but I don't get the impression that you're at all malicious. Everyone I know who ever went into politics either became corrupt, if they stayed in, or failed dismally to make the grade and had to go back to being plain, ordinary people. You'll forgive me, I hope, if I pray that you might fail to win a seat. I'd hate to see you lose that sense of humour, Ron, and believe me, if you get into Parliament, you will." Henry, Louise, and Rose had not taken part in this exchange, for they'd already heard from Ron about his plans. Rose, however, felt she had to say something to encourage him, as she could see that his friends' reactions had taken him by surprise. He'd been expecting them to be behind him in this new venture. "Ron came and had a long talk with Jack about it," she said, "and they spent quite some time praying about it. Ron hasn't made this decision lightly." "I'm sure he hasn't," Carl said, "Despite his apparent lightheadedness, I know Ron is not one to make decisions lightly." He turned to Ron. "Listen, mate—you've made this decision after considerable prayer and thought about it, and after consulting with someone whose wisdom and godliness we all respect. That's good enough for me. Go ahead and do what you think the Lord is leading you to do, Ron. You can count on us to back you up." He crossed his arms and looked around at the others in the room. "What if he should become President, folks? What then?" "I'm not planning to run for the Presidency!" Ron said hastily. "One does not necessarily become President by running for the position, Ron," Carl pointed out, "I'm sure you're aware of that." Ron frowned and gazed at Carl for a long moment. "What are you implying?" he asked softly. "I'm not implying anything," Carl replied, shrugging, "I just thought I'd mention that possibility."

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Ron looked skeptical. "Could I have a word with you outside, please?" he asked Carl. "I suppose so," Carl said, getting up and heading for the door. "Please excuse us," he said to the others as Ron followed him out. "Don't be too long," Henry warned them, "or you might miss out on afternoon tea!" "This seems to be the day for going in and out of the camper!" Emma observed, "Much more of this and I'll feel dizzy. I'd better get Benjamin before he gives up on his mother entirely." She went to the cot at the head of the double berth and picked up the baby to cuddle him. "It's all right, Benjy, I heard you, don't worry. You'll get fed." She sat down on the bed and settled herself comfortably to feed him. "Please excuse me," she said to the others, "Hungry babies have no patience." "Just this once," Henry said, "Next time, we won't let him get away with it." The twins, who'd gone off to the shower block to get washed, came back into the camper and went straight to Henry and Louise. "Uncle Henry," Andrew said, "do you know what my friend said?" "Which friend?" Henry asked. "Peter," Andrew replied, "Do you know what he said?" "That's Peter Norton," Helen explained, "His sister's name is Marian and his baby brother's name is Matthew." "The Nortons have three children, do they?" Louise asked. "Yep!" Helen said, and went off to sit next to her mother on the bed. "Well, what did Peter say?" Henry asked Andrew. "He said Auntie Louise is pretty," Andrew replied, grinning. "Oh, that's nice," Henry said, "I'm glad he agrees with me!" Louise looked amused. "How old is Peter?" she asked. "He's seven," Andrew told her. "Ah," Henry remarked, "a connoisseur! You can tell your friend Peter that he's right, she is pretty." "Okay," Andrew said, "but not now. I'd like some afternoon tea first." "Afternoon tea will be served up as soon as your mother's ready and your father and Uncle Ron have come back," Rose announced. "Do you need anything, Em?" she asked, "A drink of water, maybe?" "Yes, please," Emma replied, "but please go ahead with afternoon tea— don't wait for me. May I suggest you don't wait for Carl and Ron, either— they might be ages. When those two get into a serious discussion they can keep going all night." "All right, then," Rose laughed, "We'll do as you say." "Louise made us a special treat," Henry said, "You'll have to guess what it is before I open the box. First one to guess gets the biggest piece." As Emma had predicted, Ron and Carl were talking outside for quite some time, and when they came back into the camper Henry and Louise were getting ready to leave. "Louise's family are expecting us to turn up for tea, I'm afraid," Henry said, "Please pray for me." 95


"Why?" Ben asked, "Are your future in-laws that intimidating?" Henry laughed. "No—their future son-in-law has a terrible sense of humour." "I'm sure they'll cope very well," Louise said, squeezing his arm, "They've known Ron for years, after all. Anyone who can survive Ron can cope with you, Henry. You're merciful!" "That's Henry through and through," Carl said quietly, smiling warmly at his friend and patting his shoulder, "Merciful, like his Lord. God bless you two—you've been a blessing to us." "Are you going with them, Ron?" Emma asked. "No, Carl asked me to stay for tea, if that's all right," Ron said, "Besides, I haven't pulled on Ben's leg hard enough yet—I have to do something about it before I forget." "I might go visiting," Ben exclaimed, suddenly heading for the door. Ron caught his sleeve and hung on grimly. "Oh, no you don't!" he said, "Remember who I am? I'm sure I can trump up a charge or two if necessary! I know a very cozy little gaol not far from here..." Ben looked beaten and resumed his seat at the table. "I get the message," he said, "I'll be good, Inspector." The twins laughed and climbed onto the seat next to him and hugged him. "Don't worry, Uncle Ben," Helen announced, "We won't let Uncle Ron be nasty to you!" "Bother!" Ron said in disgust, "The Twins foil me again!" Carl laughed and rumpled his hair. "Behave yourself, now," he said, "We can't have our MP acting like a politician. Come on, all of you. Let's go out for tea."

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CHAPTER 11 "Jack will be glad to have his wife back with him," Carl remarked as the Slades and Ben returned to the caravan park after seeing Rose off at the airport. "I'm very glad he let her come," Emma said, "Rose is like a sister to me and it was lovely to have some extended time with her. And it was a big help for you and Ben while I was in hospital." "It meant I could go to work during the day," Ben remarked, "which was a good thing—our funds were getting a bit low." "That was one of the things which were on Jack's mind when he told her to come," Emma said, "That's what Rose told me, anyway." "When are we going to see Uncle Jack again?" Helen asked. "Quite soon, actually," her father replied, "We'll be heading back towards Apmirra tomorrow." "Hooray!" Helen shouted. "Helen," Emma said, "It's very late, and people don't like it when you yell this late at night. You'd better be quieter." She took the twins' towels down from the overhead rail and picked up their sponge bags and nightclothes. "Come on, Helen and Andrew, time for your showers. It's way past your bedtime." She gave them their sponge bags to carry and led them out of the camper towards the caravan park shower block. Carl looked down at their youngest whom he was still holding in his arms. "Well, Benjy," he said, "Are you ready for your bath?" "I'm ready for mine," Ben said, "If you don't mind I'll go and have my shower now. I'd like to make it an early night." "Go ahead," Carl said, "We'll try and be quiet for you when you come back and go to bed. Though I wouldn't be so quick to call it an early night— it's past my bedtime already!" "That's what you get for being an early bird, mate. We night owls call midnight early!" "Well, it's nine thirty. What do you call that—early afternoon?" Ben laughed as he collected his towel and nightwear. "Something like that," he said, "See you shortly." He left for the shower block, and Carl put Benjamin down in his cot so he could get ready to give him his bath. He filled the basin with water and placed it on the table, then spread Benjamin's towel on the end of the double berth. That done, he went to pick up Benjamin from his cot. "Come on, my boy," he said, "Time to get cleaned up!" Benjy smiled, and he gave him a cuddle, then put him down on the towel to undress him. He knelt on the floor at the end of the bed and was just beginning to remove Benjy's clothing when there was a sudden knock at the door. "Come in," he said loudly over his shoulder, "Door's open." Carl didn't see who it was who came in as he'd turned his attention back to Benjamin. But he was startled as he recognised his visitor's voice.

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"Uh, good evening, Carl," the man said as he shut the door. Carl turned to look at him. "Frank!" he exclaimed, "What—" He checked himself. "Uh, come in, sit down. I'm just about to give Benjy his bath. Mind if I keep going?" "No, no," Dr. Helms replied hurriedly, "Go ahead, I don't mind at all. Uh... I just wanted to have a word with you, Carl." He looked around the camper. "Are you on your own?" He sat down at the table, facing the double berth. "They're all at the shower block," Carl said. "Oh. Right," Frank said, then hesitantly he added, "Well, uh, Carl, I'd like to apologise for the awful way I behaved towards you the other night. I was very rude to you, and you were my guest, too." Carl paused in taking Benjamin's nappy off to throw a quick look over his shoulder at Frank. "I'm the one who should apologise, Frank," he said, "As your guest I shouldn't have said the things I said. Please forgive me for my audacity." "Carl," Frank said slowly and deliberately, "Thank you for your audacity. Thank you for not being afraid to tell me the truth. Thank you for caring enough to be willing to risk getting the kind of treatment I gave you." Carl was so astonished by Frank's words that he momentarily forgot what the next step was in bathing his son. He stared at the baby he'd finished undressing and who was smiling up at him and wriggling happily. Finally he remembered what he was doing. He picked Benjamin up, wrapped him in his towel, and holding him in his arms he got up and turned to face Frank. "I-I don't know what to say," he stammered, "I-I've been agonising about it all week, kicking myself for rushing in and blurting out my opinions like that, asking God to sort out the mess I'd made..." "He's sorted it out, all right," Frank said quietly, "or to put it more correctly, He's sorted me out. You did the right thing, Carl, and you did it because you don't just preach the Gospel, you live it. You cared about Elsa and me. You chose to appear to be foolish rather than let me continue to be foolish." "Foolish? No, I don't think you were being foolish, Frank," Carl replied, sitting down at the table, "I think you're confused, yes, but you want to do the right thing. That's not foolish." "After I kicked you out that evening I did feel very foolish. I kept thinking about what you'd said—after I simmered down, that is—and I kept comparing it to what Pastor Blake told me." Frank looked from Carl to the basin on the table and back to Carl. "Uh—were you planning to get him wet?" he asked. "Get him wet?" Carl echoed absently, then laughed. He held the child up and nuzzled his face. "Benjy must be wondering what his father's up to!" he said, "Hurry up, Daddy, before my bathwater freezes over!" He stood up, unwrapped Benjamin, and lowered him into the basin. Talking softly to the baby, he soaped him up and then rinsed him, and Benjamin wriggled gently in the water, his eyes riveted on his father's face. When Carl had finished, he took the baby out of the water and wrapped him back up in the towel. 98


The medical man in Frank couldn't resist making an observation. "His muscle tone leaves something to be desired, doesn't it?" he said quietly. "He's got Down's, remember?" Carl replied, "Poor muscle tone's part of that, I'm afraid. We do some exercises with him every day—they seem to be helping, and he loves it." "How'd you find out what sort of exercises to do?" "Ben." "Oh, of course, I should have realised that. So what do you do with him?" "Let me get a nappy on him and I'll show you. Come on, Benjy, I'll get you dressed and then you can put on a performance for Uncle Frank." "'Uncle Frank'?" "Would you rather be 'Dr. Helms'?" "Just plain 'Frank' would do." "Sorry, mate. We don't let our children call any adults by their untitled first names, I'm afraid. I believe—and so does Emma—that it helps children to respect older people if they aren't too 'chummy' with them. Can you see our point?" "Mmmm, yes, I think so... Of course, that's why Elsa always insists on her patients calling her Dr. Elsa! I'd never given it much thought, myself. Well, I guess I prefer 'Uncle Frank', then." Carl had finished getting Benjamin dressed. He gave him another quick hug, and handed him to Frank. "Here," he said, "Why don't you get to know him a bit while I get rid of this mess?" Frank was taken aback, but he took the baby and did his best to hold him comfortably. Though he held many newborn babies every week, he wasn't used to handling older babies, especially not floppy ones. He felt selfconscious and didn't quite know what to do with Benjamin. Carl busied himself in emptying the basin and putting away towels, soap, and baby clothes. Finally, he took Benjamin back, to Frank's relief, and sat down on the end of the double bed with him. He put the baby on his lap, with his head on his knees. "Right, Benjy," he said, "Let's show Uncle Frank what you can do!" He proceeded to go through the set of exercises that Ben had taught Emma and him to do. As he did so he sang one of the twins' children's songs. As Frank watched, he felt again the surge of affection that he'd felt towards Carl and Emma the first time he'd met them, before he'd even known anything about Carl's past. The man's obviously not an extrovert, he thought, and yet there's hardly any trace of self-consciousness about him. He doesn't mind people seeing him as he really is. This is a fellow who doesn't have any secrets. Benjamin giggled and Carl stopped to stare at him in amazement. He looked up at Frank in delight. "Did you hear that?" he asked happily, "He laughed! He's never done that before!" "As you said, he obviously enjoys these exercises," Frank chuckled. He sat back and looked at his watch. "Strange that your whole family's out," he remarked.

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"Well, we'd just got back from the airport, and they all went to get washed," Carl explained. "Ben knew I was coming, though." "Did he know what time?" "Yes." "Interesting. Looks like he arranged for everyone except me to be out of the camper." "Well, he knew that I wanted to talk with you." "I see. Did you have anything else to tell me? I expect they'll all be back shortly. It's way past the twins' bedtime." "Yes, I did. Ben came to see me two days ago. We had lunch together and he had a long talk with me. He seemed to know just exactly what to tell me, and he suggested I go and see Pastor Blake and tell him what you and he'd said to me." "Did you?" "Yes, that same evening, straight after work. I was with him for three hours. Just as well that none of my patients went into labour! Do you know what he said, in the end?" "What?" "He looked up all the references you two had mentioned, and we talked about them, and prayed, and finally he said that it looked to him like you're right." "Oh." "So today I had lunch with Elsa. I asked her if she would marry me." "What did she say?" Carl said, so softly it was almost a whisper, he was so surprised. "She started to cry, and said how much she'd missed me, and that yes, she'd marry me. Pastor Blake had said to me that the only restriction he would put on us would be that we stay separated until after the wedding. Elsa's willing to go along with that." "Have you decided on a date?" "Three weeks from tomorrow. It'll be just a small ceremony. After all, as you've pointed out, we've essentially been married several years already. It wouldn't be appropriate to go and have a big wedding." Carl hugged Benjamin to himself and smiled warmly at his friend. "I'm very happy and relieved to hear this, Frank," he said quietly, "You've no idea how it warms my heart." Frank was about to say something, but at that moment the door opened and Emma came in with the twins. "Hello, Frank!" she said, and Carl could see that her astonishment at seeing him there was genuine, "What a nice surprise!" The twins skipped over to Dr. Helms as soon as they recognised him, their faces bright with smiles. "Hello, Uncle Frank!" Helen said happily, "Is Dr. Elsa here too?" "Hello, Helen, Andrew," Dr. Helms replied, "No, Dr. Elsa isn't with me. I'll bring her along some other time." "But we're going back to Apmirra tomorrow," Andrew said in dismay. 100


"I'm sure you'll be back before too long," Frank replied, "A lot of people here still don't know about Jesus." Emma was hanging the children's towels on the overhead rail. "It's about time the local believers got a bit more vocal, isn't it?" she commented. "There's a lot of truth in that passage about a prophet not being welcome in his own hometown, Emma," Frank pointed out, "People will listen to Carl who wouldn't dream of listening to someone from Brown's Reef saying the same thing." "Speaking from experience, eh, Frank?" Ben said cheerfully as he also came back into the camper. "Speaking from experience," Frank repeated in agreement, "I'm sure Carl wasn't the first person to tell me about Jesus Christ but he certainly was the first one I actually listened to." "Still, the believers here are getting too laid back," Emma said, "Considering the experiences of the past, it's a dangerous way to be." "Pastor Avdyev said something along those lines when he dropped by the other day," Ben remarked, "We'd been talking about the Protectorate, and what happened to me back then. He has rather vivid memories of his own home country at the turn of the century, when the Russians took over again after some ten years of freedom. He said the Christians there had all too quickly forgotten what they'd been through before that. The young people especially. They'd been children, or not even born yet, back then before the years of freedom, and they seemed to think that being a Christian was all about having fun and making a lot of noise! It seems that no-one thought of telling them about our Servant King and what he said would happen to those who turned their backs on the world to follow Him." "Unfortunately this is happening all over the Federation too, Ben," Carl pointed out, "Remember what Jack told you the other week? About how he'd had to spend quite some time with some of the folk in his church, just giving them basic teaching about the Christian life? How he had to remind them of what it's really all about?" Frank had followed this exchange in silence, but suddenly he looked up at Carl anxiously. "I need some basic teaching, mate," he said with a catch in his voice, "about Christian marriage. Elsa's not a Christian, Carl. What if she never does believe? Where does that leave us?" "Frank," Carl replied slowly, "You love Elsa. You want to make her happy, to be a good husband to her. Concentrate on that, and don't worry about the rest. Trust God with it." "Just don't ram your beliefs down her throat," Ben cautioned, "Talk to her gently about God when the opportunity arises, but mostly it's your behaviour towards her that will speak most loudly of your faith. I came to Christ some two years before my wife did, you know. Thankfully I was given the right advice about relating my faith to her. In the end her faith was stronger than mine..." He looked wistfully at Carl. "I do thank God for that, though," he said quietly, and smiled as he saw the look on Carl's face, "I know she and the children are safe with Him. I'm very thankful for the way things have turned out for me over the last couple of months, too. I could 101


never have guessed how the Lord would turn me back to Himself. Just as you can't guess how He'll draw Elsa to himself." "I'll remember that, Ben," Frank smiled, "May God give me the ability to be a good husband to Elsa." "He will, you can be quite certain about that," Emma assured him. Frank got to his feet and patted Ben's shoulder. "Well, it's getting late and you folk probably want to get to bed," he said, "I'll say goodnight now. See you tomorrow morning, Ben. See you when you come back, Emma, Carl, twins. God bless you all." When Frank had left the camper, Carl turned to Ben. "Don't forget we're leaving first thing tomorrow, Ben," he said. "I know. I was going to tell you before, but I didn't get around to it, what with taking Rose to the airport and all. I've promised Frank to get together with him before breakfast—assuming none of his patients go into labour, that is—to do some special Bible study. I'll be back in time to leave with you." "Frank's is on the way out of town, actually," Emma remarked, "We could just pick you up on the way. Couldn't we, Carl?" "Sure, why not? It'd give you a bit more time." "Great. Let's do that, then. I'll head out to Frank's and you can pick me up at the end of his street. What time?" "Eight thirty," Carl said. "Right-oh. Well, I'd best get to bed now, like the twins, eh?" Ben chuckled and patted Andrew's shoulder as the boy settled down in his bunk, "Goodnight, everyone." He pulled the curtain across in front of his own berth as the Slades chorused their goodnight to him.

! ! ! After they were in bed, Emma reminded Carl that he'd said he would tell her about his discussion with Ron a few days before, when Ron had announced he would run for Parliament. "You haven't got around to it yet," she said. "I guess I haven't had a chance," Carl said, "but I'll tell you now if you think you can stay awake." "Oh, I can, I think. I know it's late, though, and we have a long drive tomorrow." "If I don't tell you now I might not get around to it." "Okay. I'm listening." "Come lie on my shoulder, then, and I'll whisper in your ear." "I'll lie on your shoulder, but please don't whisper in my ear—it tickles. Just speak softly." "Okay. Well, when we got out of the camper we went back to sit at the picnic table—"

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Ron and Carl sat down one on each side of the table, facing each other. "Carl," Ron said, "I get the distinct impression you know something I don't." "You could be right," Carl said. "What were you telling us that you weren't actually saying, back there?" "What I actually said was, 'What if he becomes President?' " "That's what you said. I'm asking you to tell me what you didn't say." "You will." "I will what? Become President?" "Yes." "What makes you so sure?" "I don't know. You see, several months ago, before Benjamin was born, I dreamt about you. You were sitting at a big desk in a large, light office. I know what your office at the Federal Police headquarters is like, and it's nothing like the one in my dream! So I knew it had to be somewhere else. I puzzled about it for a while, but then I forgot about it. Until you told us you were running for Parliament, that is. Then I knew what that dream had been about." "Well, though—running for Parliament is one thing, but running for the Presidency is something else again! I told you, I have no intention of doing that!" "It won't be your choice, Ron." "Ho! Now what does that mean, mate?" "I'm not sure," Carl said, "but I think the position will essentially be forced on you by circumstances." He looked his friend in the eye. "Unless you don't get into Parliament, of course," he added, "but I daresay you will." Ron frowned at him for some moments, then finally took a deep breath before speaking. "Carl, if I become President of the Federation," he said, very seriously, "can I still be President of the National Leg-Pullers' Society?" Carl stared at him open-mouthed for a second, then with a supreme effort he managed to avoid releasing the gale of laughter that had risen inside him. He also took a deep breath. "In-Inspector V-Velasquez," he succeeded in stammering, "It-It seems to me that you-you'll have to abdicate in favour of Pastor Smith! Two presidencies are too much for one man to handle!" His control finally broke and he burst out laughing so hard he had to bury his face on his arms. Ron smiled and looked very pleased with himself. "Oh, boy, Ron," Carl said as he calmed down at last, "You are incorrigible! Here we are trying to talk about something as serious as your political career—" Ron shrugged. "Ben said I mustn't lose my sense of humour," he said. Carl was instantly serious. "He also said that you will lose it, if you get into politics," he remarked, "I certainly hope he's wrong!" He sighed. "But I have to tell you that my dream about you was a nightmare, Ron. It wasn't a pleasant dream." "Oh?" Ron said, surprised, "How do you mean, a nightmare?" "It was you, in the dream, and yet it wasn't." 103


"Uh, it was me, and yet it wasn't? You're beginning to sound like me!" "Except that I'm not being funny." "Oh." Ron was very sober now, for he was aware of the fact that Carl had dreamt prophetically before. "Do you think your dream was a warning?" he asked. "I'm beginning to think so... Do you remember my telling you sometime ago about the dream I had just before that trip to Densonia when I was shot? The time when Emma dreamt the same thing?" "Yeah, I remember. What about it?" "Well, that dream was a warning, and it was certainly a nightmare, but there was an assurance with it that everything was under control and I wasn't to be anxious. Well, it's a bit like that with this dream—it's somewhat frightening, but I don't feel anxious about it. Sort of like, even if you go through a bad patch it'll be all right in the end." "Oh, that makes me feel... uh.... let's say, a little uneasy?" "It's meant to. You can't go into politics as a Christian without making sure that your armour is in excellent condition and that you've got it all on!" "I'm well aware of that, Carl," Ron said quietly, "I have prayed about this, as you know, and I talked with Jack about it and he told me pretty much the same thing." "Tell me, what exactly do you hope to achieve by being in Parliament?" "Well, I just want to be a Christian voice there—someone who'll stand for the truth, for what is right." "There'll be a lot of pressure on you to be just the opposite, you know." "I realise that, but you have to remember that I've had some practice. Even in the Police Force I'm often up against it." "There are still rules there, though. And as far as the Protectorate goes, the difference between right and wrong was rather more clear then." "That's true—once one knew the Truth, anyway. But why are you trying to stop me, Carl? Are you afraid for me?" "Yes, Ron, I am. You're my friend, Ron, and I know that you love the Lord and that your motives are right. But I also know your faults, mate, and I'm frightened that if you head into politics it's your faults that will come out on top. It's happened to almost every person I've known who followed that path. Only one man I knew maintained his integrity during his political career, and he had a very clear calling from the Lord. Are you absolutely sure that this is the right direction for you, Ron?" "I'm quite sure, Carl," Ron said, "I have no doubts about it, honestly." "Well, I won't stop you then, but you can be sure that I'll be praying for you every day. It'll be a tough road to travel." "With people like you and Jack behind me, Carl," Ron said quietly, "I'm not afraid to go down that road." "Just as long as you keep us laughing, mate. We couldn't bear to have you serious all the time!" "Serious? Me? Carl, here you are calling yourself my friend, and in the next breath you insult me!"

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"That's what friends are for, Ron—to keep your two feet firmly on the ground!"

! ! ! The lead-up to the elections was tense, for there were many candidates and many platforms, and the public was drunk with the heady wine of choice. After so many years of having their leaders imposed on them, the people of the Federation were all eager to have "the man of their choice" in power. The trouble was that each had a different idea from his neighbour's of who was the right man to represent each district, let alone of who should be President. Ron Velasquez won his seat in Parliament, defeating the runner-up by only one vote more than the necessary margin. There was an official celebration, of course, but Ron's friends made sure that he didn't forget them by organising their own party for him as well. A week after the results of the election had been announced, Ron went to the Winstons' home to have dinner with Jack and Rose. He drove up to their house at dusk and parked his car in the driveway. He was a little late, so he hurried up the footpath and knocked loudly on the front door. Rose opened the door, but only halfway. "Oh, it's you at last," she said, sounding exasperated, "We'd just about given up on you." Ron blinked hard. "I'm not that late!" he protested, "Besides, Rose, you've never been one to watch the clock. Why start now?" "There's always room for change, Ron," she replied levelly. She sighed deeply, as if trying to decide whether to relent just this once, and finally stepped aside to open the door wider to let him in. "All right," she said, "Come on in. But try and be on time next time." He walked into the room and was about to turn around to say something else to Rose when a pair of hands was clapped over his eyes and the strong arms to which the hands were attached pinned him against someone standing behind him. Rose's voice sounded at his side. "Guess who," she said. "Not Jack," he replied. "You're right, there," Jack's voice said from the other side of the room, "but you've got to tell us who it is, not who it isn't." A giggle from another part of the room informed Ron that one of the Slade twins was there. "All right, then," he said, "It's Carl." "You're not very good at this, Ron," Carl's voice chuckled from the direction of the giggles, "You're losing your detective skills with all this political endeavour of yours." Ron took a deep breath. "If it's not Carl," he said, "There's only one other person it could be—" He suddenly and forcefully pulled himself away from the restraining arms and blindfolding hands, and wheeled to face the person behind him. "Ben!" he shouted, pointing a finger at him.

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"Greetings, Ron," Ben grinned, and patted his shoulder, "Congratulations on your winning the election." He put an arm over Ron's shoulder and made him turn around to face the room. "We thought you might like a little celebration of our own." Ron frowned at his friends assembled in the Winstons' living room—Carl and Emma and their children, Jack and Rose, Rob Stuart, and Ben. "You haven't much respect for your MP, have you?" he said accusingly to Jack, "Inviting me over on false pretexts!" "We just want to make sure your Inspector's cap will still fit you at the end of your term, Ron," Carl explained, "Isn't that what friends should do?" "Anyway," Rob said, "we also figured that even MPs get hungry, so we organised a little food for you." Ben took his arm and led him to the dining table at one end of the room. "Your favourite food," he said, "or so Carl told us." On the table was a large rectangular cake decorated with green icing bearing white lettering. "Congratulations, Ron," Rose's careful script read, "May you walk with the Lord at all times." Ron gazed silently at the cake for some moments. His friends watched him, waiting for his reaction, until slowly he turned around to look at them. His face was quite pale. "Thank you," he said quietly, swallowed hard, and sighed. "You know," he said, looking at each one in turn, "the elections and the official celebration left God out of the picture entirely." He took another deep breath and looked at his feet. "I'm ashamed to have to admit that I'd already begun to forget that He's involved..." The others were silent, and Ben was frowning hard at the floor. Then Carl went over to his friend and gave him a hug. "We won't let you forget, Ron," he said softly, "You can be sure of that." "Thank God," Ron said. "We'll be praying for you every day," Ben said, "Yours is going to be a tough job." Ron looked at him quizzically. "Is that a word of prophecy, Ben?" he asked. Jack clapped his shoulder. "I don't think Ben needs to be a prophet to know the truth of his statement," he said, "Do you?" "No," Ron replied, smiling, "I knew what I was getting into, and Ben's right. Just during the elections I found out a great deal more about what I'm up against than I really wanted to know all in one go." "The main thing is," Ben said, "no matter what you're up against, don't you forget that you belong to Jesus Christ. And hang onto that wacky sense of humour of yours—you can't afford to lose it." Ron turned to face him and crossed his arms. "Ben, you are obsessed with my sense of humour, aren't you?" he said, "You really are afraid I'll stop being funny." "Ben's not the only one," Emma said quickly, "Carl and I have been worried about it too, and so has Rob." Ron stared at her for a moment, for once at a loss for something to say. He was beginning to wonder if Ben had been right, but he didn't want to let 106


his friends know that he himself was worried. The amount of focussing on himself that he'd had to do even in his election campaign had already done some damage, and he was aware of it. Carl watched him thoughtfully, and caught Jack's eye. The pastor looked back solemnly and nodded. Then Carl noticed something else. "Ron," he said, "all humour aside—someone's trying to get your attention." Helen had come up to Ron and she took his hand. "Uncle Ron, Benjy wants a hug," she said, "Come sit down." Ron looked down at her in surprise. "Benjy wants a hug?" he asked, "From me?" "Yes," Helen replied, and tugged on his hand. Ron didn't budge. He looked over at Emma, who was holding Benjy in her arms and grinning at him, then back at Helen. "How do you know?" he asked, "Did he tell you?" Helen thought about this briefly, and shrugged. "I just know," she said firmly. She tugged at his hand again and this time he followed her to the sofa at the other end of the room. "Sit down, Uncle Ron," she said, and turned to Emma. "Mummy, Benjy wants a cuddle with Uncle Ron." Emma smiled and took the baby over to Ron. "Do you want a cuddle of him? she asked. Ron shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "Can't disappoint him, now, can I?" he said, "Hand him over." She bent down and placed Benjy in his arms, and he looked down at the baby. "How old is he now?" he asked. Andrew had come over to the sofa and he sat down next to Ron. "He's almost six months," he said softly, sitting down next to him, "He likes cuddles and he likes Daddy to play his flute." Ron grinned at the boy. "Did you know that politicians are supposed to cuddle people's babies?" he said, "It endears them to the public." "Huh?" Andrew said, "What does 'endears' mean?" "It means people like them better if they cuddle babies," Emma explained to her son. She grimaced to Ron. "I've never trusted politicians who merrily cuddle everybody's babies," she said. "Oh," Ron said, "Well, then, you'd better take this one back!" He started to hand Benjy to her, but she laughed. "You're the exception," she said, "I think I'm happy to trust you, Ron." She patted his shoulder and straightened up. "I'd better help Rose get the rest of the food out so we can eat," she said, and went out to the kitchen. Ron adjusted his hold on Benjy and stood up. He went to Carl and grinned. "It's good to be with you folks," he said, "You people are real." Carl looked startled. "What do you mean, we're 'real'?" he asked, "Are you telling me that the people you're working with are not?" "They wear masks," Ron replied. Andrew had followed Ron and had listened to this exchange. "Why do they wear masks?" he asked, a picture of men in fancy dress being foremost in his mind. "They don't want to let other people know them as they really are," Carl explained. 107


"Are they ugly?" Andrew asked. "Some of them are—on the inside, anyway," Ron said. "You're finding out already?" Carl asked. "I already knew," Ron said, "Their masks aren't always effective, you know. It's one of the reasons I decided to run for Parliament—I couldn't let people like that have a monopoly in running the country." "It's amazing, isn't it, how folk who are up to no good still manage to deceive the public into thinking they have their interests at heart?" Ben said, "That fellow who came second in your electorate—it's just incredible to me that he actually got as close to winning the seat as he did. I mean, it's not as if his morals—or rather, his lack of them—were a secret!" Rose turned from the table where she'd just put down a tray of food. "People didn't look at that, Ben," she said, "They only heard the promises he was making about getting the entertainment centre built, and about putting together a bill for lowering tariffs on imported foods." "And he said he'd make sure the right people got into the top jobs in the district," Rob said. "'Bread and circuses'," Emma said, "Just like Denson, isn't it?" "Next thing you know," Carl said, "His party'll be calling themselves the Protection Party." "Is there a circus here, Mummy?" Helen asked. Emma laughed. "No, Helen," she said, "When I spoke about circuses I was just talking about politicians offering things that people think will make them happy. It was a very long time ago, in a place called Ancient Rome, that one of the leaders said that was what would keep people out of trouble—entertaining them. Then the politicians could do as they liked and nobody would notice." "Oh," Helen said, and thought about that. "Mummy," she asked, "What's 'entaining'?" "Entertaining?" Emma said, "It means doing something that people think is fun for them to watch." "Oh." "Like Uncle Ron when he was on television?" Andrew asked. Ron looked down at him and frowned. "Did you find that entertaining?" he asked gloomily. Andrew was disconcerted by his tone and didn't answer right away. He cocked his head. "Didn't you like being on television, Uncle Ron?" he asked. "No," Ron said, "Not one bit. Not this time, anyway." But even he laughed at Andrew's next statement. "I liked it when you were on television," Andrew said, "You looked funny."

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CHAPTER 12 A few weeks later the Slades were still in Apmirra, where Carl had been preaching in the City Park as well as helping Jack Winston in his work. One evening when he arrived home, Emma greeted him at the door to their flat with great excitement. "Guess who phoned today," she said, taking his hand as she closed the door behind him, "You'll never guess!" "Henry?" Carl suggested. "About six hundred kilometres off the mark," she said, grinning. "Oh," he said, and thought for a moment. "Someone in Brown's Reef, then?" "That's much closer." "Frank?" She gave his hand a squeeze. "Better and better." "Em, you'll drive me nuts! Why the guessing game all of a sudden?" "Just try again. If you still can't guess, I'll tell you." "All right, then—Elsa." Emma laughed and threw her arms around him. "It took you long enough!" He hugged her back, then held her at arm's length. "Well, tell me then," he said, "What did she want? I gather from the way you're carrying on that it's good news." "The best news one can get about anybody, Carl," she said softly. Of course he knew what she meant. Elsa had finally come to faith in their Lord. He was silent for a moment, gazing with a half-smile at Emma's shining face. "Thank God," he said at last, very softly, "The best news indeed." He drew his wife back to himself and wrapped his arms around her. He hid his face in her hair a moment and sang praises to God in his heart. Then he looked down at Emma, his blue eyes twinkling. "Frank must be on top of the world," he said. "She told me it was because of the way he'd been behaving," Emma said, "She knew there had to be something more to what he believed than just another religion. Ever since he'd asked her to marry him, and then after their wedding, he'd been so much kinder and more patient with her than he'd ever been, she said. And he didn't try and push his beliefs on her, but he just talked about Jesus Christ as if He were a friend of his." "Which He is, of course." "Yes. Oh, Carl, I'm so glad!" "Have you told Ben?" "Elsa did, already. She rang him first. She told me she'd wanted to thank him for helping Frank." "Did you talk to Frank?" "He was out—he had an appointment first thing with the Brown's Reef Council. He needed to check on what he has to do to get permission for their Home."

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"Their home? Aren't they living in Frank's house?" "They are, but they're planning to start a Home for handicapped children. She told me that both of them have become aware that there are people in Brown's Reef who've had children with physical or mental disabilities—or both—who aren't able to cope with them or who've actually abandoned them. They decided to do something about it. June wants to be involved, too. Elsa said that June's never got over her first encounter with us and Benjy. It really opened her eyes." "Well, Em," Carl said, "This calls for a celebration, doesn't it? We'll have to get Jack and Rose over and tell them. Where are the children?" "At Jack and Rose's, actually. Jemima and her children are visiting and they picked up the twins on their way there. Benjy's still asleep." Carl put his hand behind his ear and looked towards the hallway. "No he isn't," he said, "Hark." He took Emma's hand and led her to the children's bedroom. Benjy was lying in his cot making noises at the toy birds hanging from a mobile above it. Carl bent over and picked up his son. "Hello, Benjy," he said, "come and give Daddy a cuddle." "Oh, gosh, I almost forgot," Emma said suddenly, "Elsa had some other news to tell us." Carl turned around. "Ah?" he said, "What was that?" "They're going to have a baby." "Who?" "Frank and Elsa, of course." Carl grinned at the baby in his arms. "More wonderful news!" he laughed, and kissed Benjy's cheek loudly so that the baby giggled, "What a way to the end the week!" He started out of the room. "Come on, Em," he said, "Phone Jack and Rose and let them know we're on our way to their place. Tell them we'll bring the tucker." "Uh, Benjy's nappy needs changing..." "I'll change him. Just do as you're told." Emma kissed him and squeezed his arm. "Yes, my wonderful husband," she said, "I always do as I'm told. Especially when you make an offer like that." "Hurry up, then, before I change my mind!"

! ! ! "Frank and Elsa are going to find they've taken on more than they bargained for," Jack said to Carl as the two men set the table together while Emma and Rose unwrapped the take-away food in the kitchen. Jemima and her children had already left and the twins were entertaining their baby brother on the living-room floor. "What do you mean?" Carl asked. "The Member for Brown's Reef is not a friend of the disadvantaged," Jack replied, "He made that pretty clear in his election campaign." "And he got elected," Carl added meaningfully.

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"And he got elected," Jack repeated, "That tells you something about his electorate." "Mmmm." Carl turned and watched his children for a moment. "We never had any problems with people reacting adversely to Benjy there..." "But he's only a baby, Carl—people don't notice it so much with babies unless they're very obviously different. When they're older and they don't behave like their peers, now, people notice. Many folk are afraid of those who are different. Besides, Benjy's a good-looking baby, even if his face isn't quite normal." "Yeah..." Carl said absently. He looked at his brother-in-law. "Do you think the Member for Brown's Reef will make trouble for Frank?" Jack shrugged. "Hard to know," he said, "He might. On the other hand, he might bide his time and wage a low-key campaign against such enterprises." "We can ask Frank how he went at the Council this morning, when we phone him." "When do you want to do that?" "After we've eaten. Is that all right with you?" "No problem, Carl." Rose and Emma came into the room carrying bowls with the food for the meal. "Helen and Andrew," Emma said, "Go and wash your hands—we're going to eat now." "Benjy too?" Helen asked. "I'll deal with Benjy," Jack said, crouching down to pick up his nephew, "Your Mum's not ready to feed him yet. Come on, Benjy—Uncle Jack hasn't had a proper cuddle of you yet today." Helen and Andrew watched him with concern as he lifted Benjy in his arms and stood up again. "He's hungry," Helen said. "Uncle Jack knows," Andrew told her, "C'mon, let's go wash hands so we c'n eat." The two children skipped out of the room, and Jack grinned at his sister. "Emma," he said, "With those two keeping watch over their brother you needn't fear for him." Emma laughed. "Those two are irreplaceable," she said, "Benjy hardly cries these days—he only has to look as if he's about to burst into tears and Helen and Andrew are hovering around him like a mother bird fussing around her nestlings." The various members of the family settled themselves around the dining table. After Jack had given thanks, Rose and Emma served out the meal and everyone ate heartily while talking together about the events of the week. The main topics were of course Elsa's conversion and the Helms' proposed venture. As soon as the meal was over, Carl suggested they phone Frank and Elsa. Rose cleared some of the dishes away, and Jack set up their phone on the table so everyone would be able to hear and to join in the conversation. Frank answered the call. "Frank Helms speaking," he said. 111


"Greetings from Apmirra," Carl said, "Guess who's phoning." "Carl Slade," Frank replied, "I'd know your voice anywhere." At a signal from Jack, the rest of the family shouted a greeting together. "Whoa!" Frank exclaimed, "You've got company!" "Actually, we're at Jack and Rose's home," Carl said, "We thought we ought to let you know we're celebrating on yours and Elsa's behalf." "Ah, right. Well, thank you all—it's very nice of you to do that. Elsa told me she'd phoned Emma to let you know. We've been doing a bit of celebrating ourselves." "How'd you go at the Council this morning?" Jack asked. "No problem, as far as they're concerned," Frank replied, "But they warned me others might not be pleased about our plans." "That's what Jack figured," Carl said, "He knows too much about your local MP." "I'm finding out," Frank said, "I'll have to pick Ron's brains about how to deal with MPs." "Go easy on Ron," Rose said. "What do you mean?" "He's having his eyes opened rather more than he expected. He's taking it hard." "How?" Frank asked. "It isn't funny," Jack said, "At all." "I'll be careful. He's a good man. I wouldn't want to make life harder for him than it's bound to be already." He cleared his throat. "Now, however, I've got some more news for you. It's a good thing you phoned." "More news?" Carl said, "Good or bad?" "Oh, good—wonderful, in fact." "Well, go on, then, tell us!" "You know June wants to be in on the Children's Home?" "Yes, Elsa told Em." "Well, this afternoon she came to visit, and she had someone with her." "Oh," Emma said, "Who?" "Her husband," Frank replied, "Joshua." "They're back together?" "And walking together with the Lord," Frank said quietly. A spontaneous cheer went up around the Winstons' table. When they were quiet again, Frank continued. "They both want to be involved," he said. "How did this happen?" Rose asked, "Last I heard Joshua was not a believer and neither was June, and she wanted nothing to do with him." "It's a long story," Frank said, "and they'll have to give you the details themselves, but I can give you a summary. June kept thinking about the things Carl had said back when we all first met and then when she saw you again that time Emma was sick, and in the end she asked if she could go to church with us one Sunday. Guess who she spotted in the back as soon as we walked in." "Joshua," Emma said. 112


"That's right. What's more, he spotted her right away too. They didn't talk to each other that morning, but they got together soon after that. We only saw June at work, then, until today, and we thought it best not to pester her with questions. June told us this afternoon that they'd decided it couldn't be a coincidence, his being at the church the first time she went there, and they'd got together the next evening. They have a lot of sorting out to do, but they know that it's the only right thing to do. They are very happy, believe me." "Frank, this is really good news," Carl said, "We're going to have to come and visit you people and celebrate with all of you." "How are the Ngs doing?" Emma asked. "Well, they're rejoicing too, as you might imagine," Frank said, "Carl, we'd love to see you again—do come soon. We need to thank Benjy, too. How right you were when you said that he's a perfect gift from God." "Why do you say that?" Carl asked. "Look at the consequences of his having been born, Carl. What do you think?" "Praise the Lord," Carl said softly, "He makes all things beautiful in His time." At that point Benjamin let out a wail. "Benjy's hungry, Mummy," Helen said loudly. "Sounds like he wants some attention," Frank chuckled, "Don't neglect that child, Emma—he's very special." "We won't," Emma said, "You can be sure of that."

! ! ! Six months later the Pamanyungan Federation was in turmoil, for the President died suddenly of a heart attack as he took part in a fund-raising marathon race around the lake in Apmirra. Barely two weeks before the crisis the Vice-President, deputy leader of the Reformers Party, had resigned because of ill-health. When the members of Parliament had been unable to agree on a member of the Reformers to succeed him, they had finally decided to choose an Independent. It was Ron Velasquez who had been chosen by a majority of the House. Thus he'd ended up next in line for the Presidency. Four hours after being told of the President's death, Ron received a visit from the five members of the President's Cabinet, to inform him that he was now President of the Federation of Pamanyungan. His first thought was of Carl's prophetic words back in Brown's Reef. His next thought was of how much power his new position gave him over the affairs of the country. His initial reaction was to laugh as if he'd been the victim of an amusing prank. It took him the rest of the day and all the following night to accept that this was for real. The first day of his term plunged him into that reality with great force, for the former President had not made a tidy exit.

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When Carl heard on the news broadcast that his prediction had come true the Slades were visiting their friends the Newmans across the border in Kawanyama. He immediately called Emma and the Newmans together and they spent almost an hour in prayer for their friend. Carl then phoned Jack, Ben, and Henry in turn to ask them to keep praying for President Velasquez. "Pray for him every time you hear or think of him," he said, "He's going to need it more than ever."

! ! ! One of the worst things that happened to Ron Velasquez as soon as he became President was isolation. Not that he wasn't surrounded by people practically all day long, but that he had little choice as to who these people were. Since he had not come to the Presidency through election but by default, he had to take up what his predecessor had left behind, including a ready-formed Cabinet and established Ministers as well as all the intrigues in which the former President had been involved. With this he had to do his best to lead the country. The President of Pamanyungan had little time to be his own person. He belonged to the state and was essentially its slave. The affairs of the country required that he be in conference—either in his office, on the phone, or in other offices and conference rooms—during so many of his waking hours, that he had little time left for contact with his friends. That, to Ron, was isolation. Much of the time he was effectively separated from those people who were his true supporters and encouragers. They could only see him by appointment now. Because of the security protocols surrounding his Office he didn't even have the freedom to invite them to a meal with him at his home. All guest lists for the President's social gatherings were prepared by his staff in consultation with the Cabinet. "One of these days even God will have to make an appointment for me to have some time with Him," Ron complained to Carl one afternoon two months after he had become President, "It's ridiculous that you have to make an appointment through official channels just to come and have a chat! You're one of my closest friends and I can't even have you over for a cup of tea in between meetings without permission from Cabinet!" "There's not much you can do about it, short of resigning, Ron," Carl said, "At least they let me in. We can be thankful for that." Ron's office was a very large room on the third floor of the Government Assembly Building, with three windows overlooking the Lake. The glass of the windows was armour-plated, but that didn't detract from the view, though Ron had little time to admire it. The polished marble floor of the office was covered with three sizeable Belgian carpets patterned in native wildflowers and animals. The windows had turquoise-coloured velvet curtains which were never closed, for at night all the windows in the building were covered by electrically-driven steel shutters. Light-coloured wood panelling covered the walls, which were further adorned—or disfigured, according to Ron—with several original contemporary paintings.

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In front of the central window and under a massive chandelier hung about with more than two hundred tiny crystal prisms, was the President's desk, built in a dark-coloured wood which contrasted nicely with the wall panelling. The plush office chair behind it was covered in the same velvet as the curtains, and faced away from the window most of the time. To the left of the desk was a suite of four velvet-upholstered two-seater sofas set in square formation around a low, glass-topped table. Behind them was a sideboard with a luxury version of a refreshment centre on it. On the righthand side of the desk was the President's communications centre, three large tables holding his compufiler, several phones, and other paraphernalia necessary for keeping in touch with the world outside his office. It was the first time Carl had been able to get an appointment with Ron since his becoming President. As the secretary who had shown him in left the room, he stood just inside the door and surveyed the room. "Yes," he said to Ron, who had come over to the door to welcome him, "This is the room in my dream, all right." "You were right," Ron said, "It's a little bigger than my old office at Police Headquarters. Not as comfortable, though." "Looks pretty comfortable to me." "Looks aren't everything, Carl. Poison can look pretty good." Carl gave his friend a startled glance, but didn't comment. He walked over to the window behind the desk and stood looking out, his hands behind his back. "You have a decent view from here," he remarked. "Do I, now? I hadn't noticed," Ron said, coming to his side. "Hmmm, yes, you're right," he added after a moment, quietly, "It's not a bad view at all." Carl looked at him curiously. "Are you telling me that this is the first time you've looked out of this window?" he asked. Ron sighed. "Not really," he said, "It's just that there's so little time these days for such things as admiring the view from my window. There's so little time for anything but the so-called affairs of state. It's crazy! I mean, look— your visit is already half over and we haven't even greeted each other!" Carl patted his shoulder and grinned. "No time for greetings, Ron, we'll just get on with business." "It isn't funny, Carl," Ron said, shrugging, "Come on over here and sit down. Would you like a drink or something?" He waved towards the sideboard. "Whatever you like—I'm sure we've got it in there." "No, thanks," Carl replied, "I'm fine." He sat down on the sofa facing towards the windows, and Ron took a seat on the one to his right. "I suppose this was once Denson's hideout," Carl commented, looking around the room. "Yes, it was," Ron said, "As Chief of the Investigations Bureau I came in here several times during Denson's time. But it's changed since then, and I can't say I'm unhappy about that." "I never got this far," Carl said, and chuckled. "My first visit to this building was as an aide to Vice-President Surito of Kawanyama—as a representative of another country, would you believe!" "I remember," Ron said, "and I knew who you were, despite the beard." 115


"You'd been told who I was, so you can't tell me it was because of your detective skills! Actually, you never told me who it was who told you." "It was Silas, I think. It was a fair time ago, now, you know." "Almost seven years," Carl said, "Who would have thought back then that things would turn out as they have?" Ron sighed. "One person knew—God," he said. He pronounced the name so sadly that Carl blinked hard. He gazed at his friend with concern. Ron wasn't even looking at him, but was leaning over with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped hard together, staring at the carpet. "Ron, is it that bad?" he asked quietly. Ron looked up slowly and nodded briefly. "It is," he said, and sighed again. "In the last two months you're the only person with whom I've been able to relax and just be myself, Carl. Every day I have to be on top of things, businesslike, efficient, up-to-date with everything happening everywhere. I'm not supposed to show my feelings about anything; I have to be like a machine and do all the right things at the right time. I found out pretty quickly, too, that cracking clean jokes is considered in very poor taste. And I can't make any decisions without consulting Cabinet." "Don't you have a say in the running of the country, then? I thought that was what the Presidency was all about." "Oh, yes, I certainly do have a say! But it's not that simple, Carl! I have to be on the alert all the time, because I'm surrounded by people who all want a say too, and who constantly try to get around me in one way or another! They think that if they say nice things to me they'll get their own way. They're all sycophants!" "Well, you've never been one to fall for flattery, Ron—" "I've never had to fight flattery twenty-four hours a day before!" Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet, "I feel like there isn't anyone in this whole building who can speak the truth!" "There is at least one, Ron," Carl said softly. "Who?" Ron cried, flinging his arms wide, "Where in this prison is there such a person?" Carl smiled at him and crossed his arms. "In this office," he said. Ron stared at him a moment. "You'll be gone in ten minutes' time," he said, "Then what?" "I'm not talking about myself, Ron. I'm talking about you." Ron sat down heavily. "Oh. I see," he said, "I see." "No matter what they say, Ron, as long as you stick to the truth you'll be all right." "It's awfully close to impossible at times..." "'With God all things are possible,'" Carl quoted. Ron smiled crookedly. "I sometimes wonder if God is still on my side," he said grimly, "He seems terribly distant these days." Carl got up and went to sit next him. "God didn't abandon you when He let you become President, Ron," he said, "He's in this with you. He knows that what you want most is to do right and to live your life to glorify Him. 116


The struggle is part of that, Ron. The main thing is that you keep in touch with Him." "I wasn't joking when I said that about God having to make an appointment, Carl..." "You're finding it difficult to have time to pray? To read the Bible? Is that it?" "'Difficult' is one way of saying 'almost impossible'." "You can't let that slip, Ron. You need to keep in touch with the Lord." "You don't have to tell me that, Carl. I know. I haven't let it slip—yet. I am having a terrific battle to keep up that part of my life, that's all." Carl put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't give up," he said, "Remember we're all praying for you. We'll be praying about that, especially. You need God's wisdom for this job, every minute of every day. Hold onto Him, Ron, whatever else you do. With God you can't go wrong. Without Him, you're finished." There was a sudden ringing from the desk, and Ron hurried over to it. There was a message from his secretary, through the intercom. He acknowledged it, and turned to Carl. "I'm afraid our time's up," he said, "Already." Carl came over to him and put an arm around his shoulders. He felt keenly his friend's disillusionment, and wished he could do something to alleviate his despondency. There was only one thing he could do, other than to continue to pray for him and assure him of his friendship. "Let me pray with you before I leave," he said. "Please do," Ron said, "and please, let's kneel, Carl." He dropped to his knees and Carl knelt beside him, still with his arm around his shoulders. "Remind me of who God is, Carl," he said softly. "Who God is..." Carl repeated slowly, "You know Who God is, Ron—you don't need reminding." He sighed deeply, and began to pray. "Lord God our Father," he said, "We kneel before You, our Maker and our Lord, our Judge and our Saviour, and we worship You, for You are the Creator of the whole universe and You are sovereign over all that happens in Your creation. There is nothing that You are not aware of, nothing that happens without Your permission. You know everything, even our most secret thoughts. And You love us so much more than we can ever imagine—so much that You became a man, Jesus Christ, and took on Yourself all the punishment that we deserve for the evil that we do. You made us Your children and You filled us with Your Holy Spirit. Lord God, may we never forget all that You have done for us. May we never forget that You also promised that You would never leave us or abandon us. I pray for my friend Ron, Lord. You allowed Him to reach this position, and he's finding it extremely difficult, but You knew that he would. O God, our Father, may he always keep close to You—please hold him close—and may He always look to You for wisdom and discernment. In Jesus' name I ask this, for I know that it is Your will that we Your children walk in Your ways."

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The urgent ringing from the intercom sounded again as they stood up again, and Ron led Carl towards the door. "Thanks, Carl," he said, "I'm sorry I have to push you out so soon." Carl gave him a hug. "Never mind, Ron," he said, "That's the way it goes. I'll come again. And I'll keep praying. Don't give up." "See you later, Carl. God bless you." When Carl had left, Ron walked back to the window behind his desk. He gazed out at the lake and sighed. Just before his secretary ushered in his next visitor he saw Carl walk out of the building, heading towards the esplanade between the building and the lake. Carl turned around briefly and looked up towards Ron's office, and waved.

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CHAPTER 13 Two years later, the Slades were again travelling all over Pamanyungan as Carl continued his itinerant preaching. They had spent a year in Apmirra while Benjamin was still a baby and unable to walk, but after that time Carl felt he should get back to the work he had been called to do. While they were in the capital he'd helped Jack Winston to pastor his church, as he'd done before his travelling ministry had started, but Jack agreed with him that it was only a temporary work. Carl had the camper overhauled during their time in Apmirra, so that they might be able to continue using it as their "house on wheels". Ben had moved to Estella, a small town on the coast where a thriving fishing industry had recently been revived, and was making a living managing a furniture warehouse. The Slades made their first trip in the renovated camper with Estella as their destination. It was in that town that they were to have their first encounter with outright hostility towards Benjamin. Ben greeted them warmly when they arrived at the small house he'd built on the outskirts of town, near the beach. The twins were thrilled at seeing Uncle Ben again, and were delighted that his house should be within a few leaps of the ocean. Carl was fascinated to see Benjamin head straight for Ben as soon as he was let out of the truck. The toddler who hadn't been walking two months before made his way with unfaltering steps towards Ben and took his hand without any fuss. Ben picked him up and the boy snuggled against him, his little arms around his neck. Emma noticed the tears in Ben's eyes, and she squeezed Carl's hand. "Even after all these months since we last saw Ben, he remembers him," she whispered, "Did you see his eyes light up when he saw his Uncle Ben?" "I saw, Em," Carl whispered back, "There's a special bond between those two. It still amazes me—I guess it always will. But I thank God for it." "Come on in and see my home, such as it is," Ben said, and led the way, with Benjy still in his arms, to the small bungalow. Carl and Emma picked up their bags and followed him, calling to the twins to come too. They all trooped into Ben's living room. Ben put Benjy down on the floor and waved his arm to indicate the lounge suite. "Just put your bags down and have a seat and I'll get you a cuppa," he said, "then I'll show you where you'll be sleeping." "We assumed we'd stay in the camper," Carl said. "Oh, no," Ben said, smiling, "You'll be my guests and stay in my house. I've been looking forwards to this all month. Don't you dare go and disappoint me, now." "We'll be delighted to be your guests, Ben," Emma said quickly, "It'll be a special treat for all of us." She took Carl's hand and gave it a squeeze.

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He understood her signal. "Thanks, Ben," he said, "It'll be nice to have bit more room and not have to walk over to another building in the middle of the night." "I thought as much," Ben said, "and besides, it's about time I returned the favour you did for me." "Can I give you a hand, Ben?" Emma asked. "No—just sit down and let me wait on you!" Ben ordered, "Give me that pleasure." He went to fetch the tea, and as they waited for him they looked around his small living room. It was just big enough to hold the two maroon twoseater armchairs and a rocking chair that furnished it, but Ben had managed to squeeze two single mattresses on the floor at the far end of the room. A large framed print on the pale green wall facing the front door and the window showed a scene of a creek flowing through the bush. The dark blue carpet on the floor made the twins think of the sea, the more so because Benjamin had decided to "swim" on it. A door at one end of the room led to the kitchen and two other doors, now closed, presumably opened onto bedrooms. "Mmmm," Emma reflected as she sat down on one of the sofas, "I had a feeling Ben was colour-blind." "Eh?" Carl said, "What do you mean?" "Just the odd combinations of colours he used to wear—still does—and now, the colours in this room." "I suppose they do clash somewhat..." Ben had overheard Emma as he came out of the kitchen carrying a tray. He laughed. "Okay," he said, "It's taken you a while, Emma, but you've finally found me out! You're right, I'm colour-blind. Sorry about the strange mix of colours here. I haven't a clue what they actually look like to you. I hope you can cope!" "Doesn't worry me," Carl said, "I admit to not having noticed until Em pointed it out. I've left all that sort of thing to her since we got married. She's better at it than I am." "From what I know about you, mate," Ben replied, looking skeptical, "You probably have the last word about it. Doesn't he, Emma?" "Of course he does! But his opinion usually coincides with mine—we do like the same things, much of the time, you know." "I noticed, that time when you were buying new curtains for the camper," Ben chuckled, "You both headed straight for the same bolt of material!" "And they both grabbed it at the same time and then they kissed!" Helen exclaimed cheerfully from where she lay on her back on one of the mattresses. "And you pretended that you didn't know who they were, Uncle Ben," Andrew said, grinning at Ben. "Did I, now?" Ben said, trying to look innocent. "Shall we have that tea before it gets cold?" Emma asked. When they had finished their cups of tea, Ben invited them to see the rest of the house. "I thought Helen and Andrew might like to sleep in here," he 120


said, indicating the mattresses, "but I've put a cot for Benjy in your room. Come and see." He opened the first door facing them, and they went in. The bedroom was not large, but it was light, and its big window looked out onto the beach and the ocean beyond it. The room contained two single beds, pushed together, an old-fashioned drop-side cot, and a small wardrobe. A door led to a small bathroom. The turquoise bedspread unfortunately clashed with the orange carpet on the floor and the pink lampshade on the light fitting. At least the curtains were cream-coloured. "Interesting colour-scheme, Ben," Emma teased. Ben bowed to her, grinning. "Can't have you getting bored, Emma," he said. "Thankfully it all looks the same in the dark," Carl observed grimly, "or I might not be able to sleep." "You've given us a room with a bathroom," Emma said, "What about you?" "Each of the two bedrooms has its own bathroom," Ben explained, "When I built the house I assumed this room would be for guests, and I thought they'd appreciate not having to fight me for the bathroom." "Yes, I'd hate to have to fight you for the bathroom, mate," Carl said gravely, "You'd lose every time!" "I know. It was especially you I was thinking of, Carl," Ben retorted. "Sibling rivalry," Carl explained to Emma, who was rather amused, "We're brothers, you see. We have to keep up appearances. Have you ever heard of brothers who never fight?" Ben laughed heartily. "Emma," he said, "If I hadn't been a witness daily for two months of how happily you two are married, I'd ask you how on earth you put up with him." "We've both had a fair bit of training from Ron Velasquez, Ben," Emma said quietly. "Oh, yes—President Ron," Ben said soberly, "Once President of the National Leg-Pullers Society or something like that, eh? The man who used to be a Chief Inspector and who said everything with a straight face—no matter how far-fetched it was. The man who's forgotten that life has to have a lighter side if we're to stay sane..." He sighed. "Let's not talk about Ron just now," he said, "My heart's heavy every time I think of him being President." He picked up Benjamin who was about to crawl under the bed. "C'mon Benjy, nothing under there but dust, mate." He started out of the room. "Come on and see the rest of the house," he said, "and then we can have an early tea. I'd like to take you for a walk along the beach before dark." He led them out and showed them his own room next door. It had the same view through the window, but held only a single bed, a wardrobe, and a small desk, in a similar clash of colours to that of the guest room. "The kitchen's where I usually spend my evenings when I'm on my own," Ben said, leading them into that room, "I've baby-proofed it as much as I could so you don't have to worry about Benjy." 121


"It's a lovely house, Ben," Emma said, "Have you had many people stay?" "Not yet, but then I haven't been in the house that long. Frank and Elsa and their little Sandra came over for two weeks in the summer, and we had a great time. I took a week of my holidays then so I could spend time with them. Somsay's son came for a long weekend. He's quite a character, a nice fellow, but he still has trouble with his dad's being a Christian. Had some good talks with him, though, and we caught quite a few fish together, out on the rocks. Henry and Louise are planning to come later this month. Their last holiday as a couple, you know. Another few weeks and the Smiths will be three." "Do you get any work done, with all these people coming and going?" Carl asked, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, yes, don't worry," Ben said, "On workdays my guests have to fend for themselves, but they usually manage all right. I'm sure you'll be right, anyway—you've brought Emma with you, after all." He ducked as Carl pretended to lash out at him, and hurried back into the kitchen. "Tonight, though," he said, grinning, "I'm taking care of you all. Tea will be served in about fifteen minutes. Why don't you unpack while I get it ready?" After the evening meal, Ben reminded them that they should go for a walk along the beach before sunset. They set off towards the town, walking along slowly while the children ran around and played in the sand. After a few minutes Benjamin was too tired to walk and Carl picked him up to carry him. They were approaching the jetty near the town centre when they met another group of people out for an evening walk. Two couples in their early thirties were heading towards them. As they got closer, Ben recognised them as neighbours of his and greeted them cheerfully. They returned his greeting and stopped to chat. Ben introduced his friends, starting with Carl and Emma. "And those two live wires over near the water are Helen and Andrew—they're twins—and this little one, just two years old, is Benjamin," he finished. One of the women went up to Carl. "I love babies!" she exclaimed, and patted Benjamin on the shoulder. "Hello, Benjamin," she said. Benjamin turned around to look at her, and made an attempt at "Hello", for he wasn't shy. But the woman shrank back, a horrified look on her face. "What's wrong with him?" she cried out, "He's not normal!" Carl, shaken by her reaction, looked at his son. "Benjamin has Down's syndrome, that's all," he said, "there's nothing wrong with him." "He's ugly! He makes strange noises!" the woman cried, "He's just like an animal!" Her companions were now staring at Benjamin, and one of the men, apparently her husband, took her hand. "Is he your child?" he asked Carl and Emma in an angry tone. "Why, yes, he is," Emma replied. She, too, had been taken aback by the woman's behaviour, but had quickly regained her composure. "He's our youngest." "Didn't they tell you he'd be abnormal?" the man asked. 122


"Who?" Emma said. "When they tested you." "They didn't." "Why not?" Carl took Emma's arm and squeezed it, and she understood his signal to let him take over. She didn't answer the man. "I don't know what right you have to interrogate us like this," Carl said in a strained voice, "but I will not have you talking to my wife like that. Our son is the way he is, and we love him because he's our son and God gave him to us as he is. He's no less precious to us than our twins who are 'normal', to use your wife's word." "How dare you let a monster like that live!" the other woman almost shouted at him, "He's an insult to the human race and should have been put to sleep at birth!" "My neighbours are not quite what I thought they were," Ben said levelly to no-one in particular. The other man, who was standing nearest to him, wheeled on him with clenched fists. "What are you implying by that statement?" he asked angrily. "I just made the statement," Ben said quietly, "A simple observation, that's all." "Are these people your friends?" the first woman asked. "Carl is my brother," Ben replied, "so of course they're my friends." "Your brother?" the second man said dubiously, "You don't look at all like you're related." "We're both adopted sons," Ben said. Carl looked at him in wonder. Ben to the rescue, he thought, O Lord, how you have blessed us in this man. He moved Benjamin onto his other hip and put his arm around Emma. She was trembling. "The whole family's abnormal!" the first man spluttered, "Adopted sons, twins, retards! You ought to be run out of town!" "You sound like Protectioners," Carl said, surprised, "I didn't think there were any people like that around anymore." "The Protectioners had many things right, I'll have you know!" the second man replied hotly, "For one thing, they didn't allow monstrosities like your kid to live!" Ben shuddered as he recalled what the Protectioners had done with children like Benjamin. "Do you realise—" he began to say. Looking at her watch and putting a hand on his arm, Emma interrupted him. "Ben, I think it's time to get back home," she said, "I'd like to give the children a wash before bedtime." He glanced at her quickly, and understood. There was no point in getting into an argument with his neighbours. "You're right," he said, "It'll be dark by the time we get back." He turned towards the water. "Hey, twins!" he yelled, "Time to go back! C'mon!" Then he turned back towards his neighbours. "Sorry, but we have to go," he said, "Have a nice walk." The twins joined Ben and their parents, and they all walked slowly back towards Ben's house, leaving the two couples staring after them. 123


"Who were those people, Mummy?" Andrew asked, staring back over his shoulder at the group as they walked away, "They looked very cross." "Just some people who live near Uncle Ben," Emma replied, "They weren't feeling very happy." "They didn't like Benjy, did they?" Andrew remarked, "I heard that lady yell at him. But I like him, Mummy. I like him heaps!" Carl gave his son a quick glance, just as Andrew looked up at him. Their eyes met, and Andrew's shone as he spoke again. "I love Benjy, Daddy," he said happily, "He's my special brother."

! ! ! Ben knew that a war was on the next day, when a large stone was thrown through his living-room window. Carl and he cleaned up the broken glass together. "Looks like the Enwuh's back, mate," he commented glumly. "This the sort of thing you did?" Carl asked. "Yeah. 'Make life miserable for the Rebels' was one of our tasks. Rocks through windows can be most frustrating when there's no way of replacing the glass." "These folk live near here?" "I told you when I introduced them—they live just up the road." Ben pointed through the broken window. "That white house over there, with the cypress in front, and the house with the dark roof, next to it." Carl gazed pensively at the houses Ben had indicated. They looked like ordinary, well-kept bungalows. There was nothing about them to suggest that their occupants might entertain the kind of attitudes they'd displayed the previous evening. Of course, he hadn't really expected to see anything unusual, but he wondered how many other seemingly ordinary, comfortable homes sheltered people hostile to those who are 'different'...

! ! ! Several months after their visit to Ben, Carl was greatly sobered by the discovery they'd made of just how many people still harboured feelings of hostility towards not only the handicapped but also the aged. The teachings of the Protectioners had gone far deeper than he'd ever guessed, and even all these years after the fall of the Protectorate they continued to live on... His disquiet increased when Benjamin began to develop a habit which could easily place his life in danger. The family was staying in a large town west of the Blue Mountains when Emma voiced her fears about their youngest to him one evening. The children were asleep and the two of them were clearing up the tea things together. "Carl, I'm worried about Benjy," she said as she piled the dishes together. "Anything in particular, or is this in general?" Carl asked. At three years of age, Benjamin was proving to be quite a handful, for he seemed quite

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oblivious to any of the many everyday dangers that surround small children. He needed constant supervision when he was awake. "In particular," Emma said, "It's this awful fear he has of moving air. At this time of year, with all the autumn breezes, we've been getting several crises every day. It's exhausting." "He's not showing any sign of losing his fear, is he?" "No, he isn't. If anything, it's getting worse. Just a slight breeze sets him into a panic. Even the breeze from a fan frightens him." "We've prayed about it, we've tried to show him it won't hurt him. I don't know what else we can do. If we knew how it started in the first place, we might be able to do something, but we don't even know where he picked it up." "Maybe we never will, either, but I'm sure there must be a solution somehow. But that's not all, Carl. On top of that, he's suddenly taken to going off exploring on his own. Nothing else frightens him—only wind. If there's no breeze, he just goes! I'm terrified something will happen to him. The twins and I are constantly on tenterhooks. Take our eyes off him for a second and he's gone!" Carl was very much on the alert now. "How long has this been going on?" he asked. "A couple of weeks. You remember the first time it happened? That's when we found him at the shop across the road." "Yes, I remember. Do you mean to say it's been happening regularly?" "Every day." "Every day for two weeks? Why didn't you tell me?" "I didn't want to worry you, and I thought he'd stop. He gets a good spanking each time, but he's got a very short memory, I think. When Ben rang the other day I mentioned it to him, but he was as baffled as I am, about both things. He said Clare never did anything like that. She wasn't afraid of things like breezes. But then he said she did have other oddities, though." At that moment Carl wasn't terribly interested in what Clare had or hadn't been afraid of. It was Benjamin he was concerned about. "Have you ever tried asking Benjy why he's afraid of the wind?" he asked. "Yes, I have, but he doesn't even seem to understand the question. It's as if he has no recollection of it when his outburst stops. Andrew tried to find out, too—you know how he can sometimes communicate with Benjy when we're getting nowhere—but Benjy didn't seem to know what he was talking about." "Has he been obedient otherwise? I mean when I'm not home—he seems to do all right when I'm home." "Oh, yes, he's very good, really, much less trouble than the twins were at that age—except for the running away! Neither of them ever did that." Carl shrugged helplessly. "Maybe we should get a doctor to see him," he suggested. Emma shook her head slowly. "I don't think it's a physical problem, Carl." 125


"No, I guess it isn't... Well, then, I suppose we ought to pray about it some more. Ask the Lord for wisdom in dealing with it. Ask him to take away Benjy's fear of wind." "What about his running away, though?" "That's rather more complicated. I'm not saying we can't pray about it in the same way, Em, but it also involves action on our part. You say you've punished him every time he's done it?" "Yes, but he just seems to forget all about it by the time the next opportunity comes! And he's got no idea that it's a dangerous thing to do, Carl! I can't get through to him that he's got to be wary of people he doesn't know. As far as he's concerned, everyone is a friend!" "We'd better pray for a solution, Em. I can't think of anything we can do, myself, short of locking him in a cage or having him on a leash, and we can't very well do that! We'll have to trust God to give us wisdom about it, or to solve the problem somehow. There are people out there who would happily do away with Benjy, as you know. Definitely not everyone is a friend." "I know, Carl, that's why I brought it up. I can't cope with it on my own any longer." Carl put down the bowl he'd picked up and put his arms around his wife. "You shouldn't have been coping with it on your own at all, Em," he said, "Promise me that you'll never do that again. We're both responsible for our children, not just you. It's too heavy a load for just one person. That's why God made fathers as well as mothers, you know." Emma smiled and put the dishes back on the table, and hugged him. "I love you, Carl," she said softly, "You're a wonderful husband and father." "Thank you, Em," he said, "You're a wonderful wife and mother, too." "We've been blessed with lovely children, haven't we?" Carl thought of each of their three children and smiled. "That we have," he said. He kissed Emma briefly and then held her at arm's length. "Em," he said, "Did you hear what Andrew said, that time on the beach at Estella when we'd just been talking with those neighbours of Ben's?" "The first time we stayed with Ben, you mean?" "Yes. Do you remember what Andrew said as we were walking back to the house?" "Something about liking Benjy?" "That's right. He said that Benjy was his special brother, remember?" "Yes. And he is, isn't he? To Andrew, I mean. Right from when he was tiny. Andrew's always looked out for him and made a point of playing with him and talking with him. I just love watching them when Andrew's trying to teach him something. Benjy pays attention to him in a way he seems unable to do with anyone else, even me." "Andrew's a special child, Em. I don't know quite what it is about him. He really unnerves me sometimes, the way he looks at me, as if he knows me better than I know myself, you know? As if he's telling me off, almost, without actually doing it. And yet as he gets older I feel closer to him than ever. I've never met anyone quite like him, except perhaps for Henry." He

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paused a moment, thinking. "Yes, definitely. Henry's like that. Do you know what I mean?" Emma had been smiling affectionately at him as he talked, and she nodded. "I know what you mean, Carl," she said softly, "And you know, I do know someone quite like Andrew, only it's not Henry." Carl looked at her quizzically, trying to guess who she might be referring to. "Oh?" he said at last, "Who is it, then?" She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard. "It's you, Carl," she replied happily, "You're very, very special. You always have been."

! ! ! In late March 2046 Carl and Emma and their children were in Goldridge, staying with Henry and Louise. Emma was alone in the Smiths' house, resting, as Carl and Henry were out visiting members of Henry's church and Louise had taken the twins, Benjy, and her own son Luke up to the park at the end of Wattle Street. It was a surprise for Emma to get a phone call from her brother in the middle of the afternoon. "Emma, have you watched today's news yet?" Jack asked her. "We haven't watched the news for several days," she replied, "We haven't really had time. In fact, this is my first chance for putting my feet up since we've been here." "Oh, sorry—I hope I didn't wake you up." "No, I wasn't sleeping. I've still got my feet up—the phone's right next to the sofa. What was on the news that we missed? If you're phoning about it, I have a feeling it must be important." "Important? Yes, it certainly is important, and it's rather close to home. It's Ron, Em, and he looks like being in a tight spot." In her surprise, Emma sat up and put her feet on the floor. "Ron?" she said, "What do you mean, 'in a tight spot'?" "Well, you know how he's just come back from those meetings in Europe?" "Yeah..." "Apparently some deal was made during the time he was over there— some deal with the European government that means they get preferential treatment in any kind of trade with Pamanyungan." "Well, that sort of thing's been done before, hasn't it? I mean, countries have given other countries preferential treatment before. It's sort of standard in international trade, isn't it?" "That's not the problem, Em," Jack said, "It's the way the deal was made that's got Ron in a fix. He told me he never authorised it, but the blame is being put on him because he's President. He told me that the Minister for Trade and Industry arranged it all and contrived to get him to sign the papers under false pretenses."

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"How on earth did he get away with something like that, with Ron of all people?" Emma asked, "I mean, Ron has always been able to detect a con game blindfolded!" "The only other possibility," Jack said levelly, "is that Ron is lying." "No!" Emma exclaimed, "Ron doesn't lie and you know it, Jack." "I agree, Em, Ron has not been known to lie ever since the episode with the body in the National Forest, back when he helped you two escape from the Protectorate. That doesn't get him out of trouble, though. He's still being accused of accepting a bribe." "A bribe!" "A very large sum of money changed hands in order to get the Pamanyungan government to agree to the deal. The evidence presented by the Ministry of Trade points to Ron." "I don't believe for one second that Ron would accept a bribe, Jack! Not Ron, never! He's not that kind of man!" "Nonetheless, the Presidency's gone to his head, Em," Jack said quietly, "You're aware of that, and you also know that pride is the cause of most downfalls—" "Yes, I know all that," Emma interrupted heatedly, "but I'm quite sure that Ron would never do a thing like that, no matter how proud he got!" "Calm down, Em! Actually, I agree with you. I don't believe Ron is guilty. He phoned me first thing this morning and explained the situation, and he asked me to pray and to phone you people and get you to pray too. His words were that God knows the truth of the matter, and all he can do is trust God to sort it out, because there's no other way. Is Carl there?" "No, he went out with Henry. I'm here by myself." "Where are the children?" "Out with Louise and Luke. She ordered me to spend the afternoon on the sofa with my feet up." "Sounds like the sort of thing Rose would do." "Louise is wonderful, Jack. Henry couldn't have found a better wife." "He deserves the best, Em. That man is so close to the Lord he makes me feel like a pagan." "Jack, Henry reminds me very much of someone else, you know." "Who?" "You, Jack. So stop berating yourself. I know the Lord's still working on you, but I don't think you're fighting Him any more than Henry is. You're two of a kind." "You and I see me from rather different perspectives, Em," Jack said soberly, "I think I'll keep it that way." "You do that," Emma replied, "I'd hate to see you start becoming proud." "So would Rose. Don't worry, Em, Rose makes sure I stay off pedestals." Emma laughed. "Tell her to push Ron off his, then." "Em, pray for Ron," Jack said earnestly, "I think this could be the last straw for him. He needs plenty of wisdom. He's in danger from himself more than anything."

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"Don't worry, we've been praying for him and we're not about to stop. And I'm so glad, and I thank God, that you're his friend." "I wish he'd never run for Parliament, Em." "Well, he did, and he became President as a result, and we can't change that. He'll survive, Jack. Even if he were to end up in gaol as a result of this set-up Ron would survive. When it comes to the crunch he trusts God and that's what counts." "I certainly hope he doesn't end up in gaol!" Jack said, "He hasn't committed any crime. But I'm worried about him, Em. He's not been himself. I've got an appointment with him in a few days' time. He wants to see me about an idea he's had. You could pray for wisdom for me, too." "We will. Is everything all right otherwise at your end, Jack?" Emma said. "Yes, everything's fine at the moment, thank God. Oh, Jemima had a son yesterday—Oliver. That makes four children for her and twelve grandchildren for Rose and me." "Congratulations, Jack! Have you any hair left?" "Just enough for Oliver to pull at in a few months' time." "Tell him to leave enough for the next one!" "I will. I'd better go now, and let you rest. Keep up the Presidential petitions."

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CHAPTER 14 Some four months later, the Slades were back in Brown's Reef to visit their "medical team". The first people they saw were the Helmses, as they were to stay with them at their Children's Home. As soon as they'd finished unpacking their belongings from the camper into the rooms Elsa Helms had got ready for them, she announced that she would give Benjamin his usual check-up. "Let's get that over with first thing," she said to Carl and Emma, "then if there's anything wrong we can deal with it while you're here." Her office and surgery were in a separate building, once a garage, behind the large house Frank had had built for their Children's Home. She led them across the lawn to her office, and as they went Emma told her about Benjamin's fear of breezes. Elsa gave Benjy a thorough check-up and found him in the best of health. She'd talked with him as she'd been examining him, and among other things she'd asked him what he thought of the wind blowing. Benjy didn't seem to understand her question, but then he hadn't appeared to understand some of her other questions, either. She didn't know what to make of it, for she still had much to learn about mental handicaps. She helped him down from the couch and sat down with him on her lap. Benjy laughed and wriggled off onto the floor, and headed for the box of toys in a corner of her office. "He knows what he wants," Elsa said. "Oh, yes," Emma agreed, "and as you know, he can be quite stubborn. But he's very affectionate, and it's hard sometimes to be strict with him." Carl and Emma were seated on the two chairs that Elsa kept in front of her desk, and she had brought her own chair around to the front. She'd noticed that Carl's hair and shirt were quite wet but had refrained from asking him what had happened to cause that. Now she tried to avoid staring at him. "Benjy seems generally to be quite cheerful," she said. "He charms everyone with that grin of his," Emma replied, "and he loves to make people laugh." "He has quite a sense of humour," Carl said dryly. "You don't sound amused, Carl," Elsa said, smiling. "Had you noticed my wet shirt and my wet hair?" Carl asked. "Yes, but I thought it might be rude to ask you about them." "Benjy did it," Emma explained, suppressing a laugh with some difficulty, "We stopped to have a drink of water in your waiting room, and Benjy was so excited about drinking out of those funny cups you have out there that he waved his around. Carl just happened to be in the wrong spot at the appropriate time. Benjy thought it was hilarious." "So did you," Carl said, putting on a hurt look. "Well, it was," Emma giggled, "You should have seen your face."

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Carl chuckled. "You should have seen yours! One second you looked quite shocked, the next you were biting your lip so hard to stop yourself laughing that I thought you were about to draw blood." "Well, I hope you'll dry quickly," Elsa said, her smile broadening momentarily. Then she was serious. "To go back to your question about Benjy and the wind. I don't really know why Benjy should be so afraid of moving air when he's not at all afraid of other things," she said, "but I've noticed that our two children with Down's have similar unexplained fears, even though they're quite a bit older than Benjy." "Do you have any ideas what we can do about it?" Emma asked. "Be patient with him," Elsa said, "Avoid breezes whenever possible. Comfort him when he's had a fright. I'm sure none of those suggestions are new to you. Nor is the obvious one of praying about it." Carl picked up Benjy who had come over to him and sat him on his lap. "We've been doing all of those," Carl said, "and I guess we'll just continue in the same vein. Especially, we'll continue to pray." "P'ay, Daddy?" Benjy said, looking up earnestly at his father's face. "Yes, my boy," Carl said, ruffling his hair and smiling, "We'll just have to pray about your fear of the wind. God can do something about it." "Got! Got!" Benjy exclaimed happily, "Gotsogoo', sogootomee!" He giggled and buried his face on Carl's chest, only to pull away abruptly. "Wet, Daddy!" he cried in surprise, rubbing his hand up and down Carl's shirt, "Wet!" "Yes, Benjy, wet," Carl said fiercely, "Some little boy thought I needed a shower." "Why?" Benjy asked, and slid off Carl's lap without waiting for an answer to what to him was not a question. He returned to the toy box and rummaged around in it. "How is the Home coming along?" Emma asked Elsa. "Well, I suppose it's doing fine," Elsa replied, "We have six new children now, not counting our Sandra, or June and Josh's Melissa, and we're kept quite busy, believe me." "Where do these six come from?" "Two of them are twin boys, Matthew and Evan, both born with rubella syndrome after the rubella epidemic several years back. They have extremely limited eyesight and can hear only the very lowest frequencies, and they had a very late start with mobility and things like self-care, but they're coming along." "Were there many children with rubella syndrome after that epidemic?" Emma asked. "Quite a few, from what I've heard," Elsa replied, "There were eight in Brown's Reef alone, and three of them died from heart problems. When rubella was supposedly eradicated people stopped being vaccinated, but there were still isolated homesteads where the virus lingered—how, I don't know, but there've been suggestions of experiments carried out during Denson's time. Anyway, once people could move around the country freely again the virus began to spread..." 131


"And so Matthew and Evan are blind and deaf," Emma said, "Are they orphans?" "No, but their parents could no longer cope with them." "What about the other children?" Carl asked. "One little girl, Maria, had a very severe cleft palate and was badly malnourished. Her mother kept her hidden away for fear people would see her and kill her, she was so ugly, but she had a great deal of trouble with eating and her mother didn't know what to do about it. She heard about the Home and brought her to us one evening early last year. Maria's had reconstructive surgery and she'll go back to her mother in a couple of months' time. It's been wonderful to see the change in her, and in her relationship with people, especially with her mother. Then we have two children with Down's, Peter and Donna. Peter is very handicapped and needs plenty of help with everything, but Donna's quite capable, just very slow. Our number six, Henry, has cerebral palsy. He finds speaking very difficult and he's somewhat clumsy physically, but otherwise he's able to do most things for himself. He helps Peter a great deal, which is a delight to see." "Well, you certainly have your hands full!" Emma said. "Do you still have the children you started out with?" Carl asked, "David, Larissa, and Rachel?" "No," Elsa said, "David and Rachel went back to their parents and Larissa was adopted by a couple who'd been helping us." "How are the Morrises doing, then?" Emma asked. "June and Josh are wonderful," Elsa replied, "and we've also had plenty of help from Dorothy, who as you know is a very skilled surgeon, as well as from a couple of physiotherapists." "Have you had any more flak from the community?" Carl asked, recalling Jack's comments about the MP for Brown's Reef. Frank Helms had shown him some angry letters that had been sent to them at various times since the Home had been started. "We had a lot of harassment at one stage from Cromer's people," Elsa said, "I think Frank told you about the letters. Vincent Cromer is our local MP and he doesn't have much time for the handicapped—or for anyone who isn't tall, fair, and handsome like him, for that matter—but it's been a bit quieter lately since he was appointed CEO of Federal Holdings. That seems to keep him too busy to carry on his little war against us." "That must be a relief," Carl said. "Oh, it certainly is. We can get on with helping our children without stupid interruptions such as rocks through our windows." "That kind of harassment!" Emma exclaimed, "They don't sound like a very sophisticated lot." "They can be, as Carl knows," Elsa said, but she didn't explain further. Instead she stood up and went to fetch Benjy. "Come on, Benjy," she said, "Come and help me introduce your parents to our new children, and then we can start doing something about feeding you all."

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! ! ! Carl and his family continued their travels around the country, stopping for a few days in each town where there was a vacancy in the caravan park. It was becoming increasingly difficult to do this, however, for Carl was finding that the character of his audiences was changing. In almost every town there seemed to be a group of people who made it their business to attack him when he preached, and many of his willing listeners seemed to be frightened away by these hecklers. More than once the groups who opposed him had sought out the camper and had tried to intimidate Emma and the children. In one town in the south they had even been threatened with physical violence if they didn't leave. Carl and Emma were praying for guidance as to whether the itinerant preaching should stop, but so far they did not feel that it should. Carl did not want to stop until he was completely at peace in his heart that it was the right thing to do. One afternoon, when the Slades were stopped in a small town some two hundred kilometres north of Apmirra, Andrew came bounding into the camper, where Emma was sitting at the table folding their clean clothes. "Mummy, Benjy's crying," he said anxiously. Emma, remembering the hostile group of a few weeks previously, was immediately alert. She put down the shirt she'd been folding and got up from the table. "Where is he?" she asked, taking Andrew's hand and heading for the door, "Is he hurt?" "I don't think so," Andrew said, "He didn't fall down or anything. He just started crying, and he wouldn't come home with me. He just stood there and he cried harder when I tried to get him to come with me. I can't understand what he's saying when he's crying like that." "Where's Helen?" Emma asked, "Is she with him?" "She's playing with Rina," Andrew said, naming one of the other children living in the caravan park. He started out of the camper and his mother followed him. "He's down by the pond," Andrew said as he led the way there. Benjamin was standing by the ornamental pond in the corner of the caravan park furthest from the entrance, but not far from their camper. The pond was oval, surrounded by a border of large, rounded stones which held down a cover of wire mesh. It was not very deep and held a dozen fat goldfish which swam lazily among the lily pads scattered over the surface of the water. There was an old weeping willow growing behind the fishpond, shading it in the hot season with its long, hanging branches. Emma hurried over to her son, who was still crying disconsolately. "Benjy, what's the matter?" she asked as she reached him. At the sound of his mother's voice Benjamin stopped crying and looked up. He sniffed hard several times and wiped his eyes and his nose with the back of his hand. Crouching down in front of him, Emma took out her

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handkerchief and wiped his face and hands. "What's the matter?" she repeated. "Fish," Benjy sniffed. Emma glanced at the pond and looked back at her son. "What do you mean, 'fish'?" she asked, "Is there something wrong with the fish in the pond?" Andrew was watching his brother solicitously. "We were looking at the fish swimming around and just like that he started crying," he said to Emma. "What is it about the fish?" Emma asked Benjy. "Fish. Hunrythaydienanroosaithayill," the boy replied excitedly and incomprehensibly. Emma looked to Andrew for translation, for all she'd understood was "fish". "He says that if they get hungry they'll die," Andrew explained, "'Cause I told him they would, 'cause they don't get enough bugs 'n things—Mr. Bates said—except that he gives them food every day." "Is that why he's crying?" Emma asked, wondering how much of Andrew's explanation Benjy had actually understood. "Anoodinlemeebikkyfish," Benjy said, pointing to his brother accusingly. Emma raised her eyebrows at Andrew. "I wouldn't let him give them some of his biscuit," Andrew said, "but that was ages ago, this morning, and he ate it up and he didn't make a fuss. And then we went to the playground and then we had lunch." "All right, I understand now," Emma said, "He's still upset about your not letting him give them some of his biscuit. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets upset each time he comes here, from now on, unless we can get it through to him that the fish aren't likely to starve while Mr. Bates is in charge of them." She turned to Benjy and led him over to the fishpond. Andrew followed them curiously. "Look at the fish, Benjy," she said, pointing to the water, "Can you see them swimming around?" "Yef," Benjy lisped, "Fish simminound." "Well, then, can you see how big and fat they are?" Emma asked, squeezing his hand. "Biggunfat," he echoed, laughing, "Biggunfat. Fish biggunfat." "Mr. Bates gives them lots of fishfood," his mother continued. Andrew had crouched down with them at the edge of the pond and he smiled up at his mother encouragingly. "That's right," he said, "Lots and lots. We've seen him." "Isserbetsivsemishood," Benjy said, making sprinkling motions over the water with his free hand. "The fish won't die of hunger, because Mr. Bates looks after them," Emma said, "They get so much food from Mr. Bates that they're never hungry." "Ooooh," Benjy said, wide-eyed. He gazed thoughtfully at the pond for a moment, then stood up and grinned at his mother. "Weentdiegotloo'aftus,

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Mummy?" he asked excitedly, and held his arms wide, "Daddy. Sedatgotookaftusahwayscozee'ovus. Ike fish." Again Emma had difficulty understanding him, and Andrew came to her rescue as he saw her puzzled frown. "He said we won't die 'cause God looks after us 'cause he loves us. Daddy said that." "Daddy," Benjy said feelingly, "Angot." "Yes, Benjy," Emma said, "God does love us very much. And you're right, Daddy loves us very much, too." "Daddy 'ome, Mummy?" Benjy asked, "Got 'ome?" "God is always with us, Benjy," Emma said, smiling. "And there's Daddy now!" Andrew cried, jumping up and pointing towards their camper. He ran off in that direction, calling out to his father. Carl stopped and looked towards them as Andrew reached him and hugged him. Emma walked more slowly, holding Benjy by the hand. "You're home early," she said as she came up to him and saw his frown, "Is something wrong?" "Either something is wrong, or else it's all right," Carl replied enigmatically, "It all depends on how you look at it. Ron's resigned the Presidency." "He's resigned?" Emma exclaimed, "Why?" "Let's go inside and sit down and I'll tell you, Em. I'm worn out. I've had quite a time of it up there in the square." Benjy pulled at his father's hand. "Got'ookaftus, Daddy," he said happily, "Ike fish. Biggunfat fish. Isserbetsivesfishood." Carl gave him a bewildered look. "I beg your pardon?" he said. "Why?" Benjy replied. Andrew burst out laughing and in between giggles tried to explain to his father what Benjy had said. Carl only looked more confused, for his mind was not on fish or fishfood, and Andrew's muddled explanation was not getting through to him. Emma smiled and put her arm around his waist. "I'll explain it later," she said, "Benjy's managed to find a theological aspect to goldfish rearing." "Trust him," Carl said, grinning down at Benjy who was hugging his leg. "Let's go in and you can tell me about your day, and about Ron," Emma said, and started moving away. She turned back a moment and sent Andrew to call his sister, then went into the camper. Carl picked up Benjy and followed her inside. "When did you hear about Ron?" Emma asked as she switched on the kettle to make some tea. "About an hour ago," Carl replied, "I'd taken refuge in one of the cafes near the square—" "Taken refuge?" Emma interrupted, "What do you mean? Was someone attacking you?" "You might say that. I'll explain later. First, about Ron. In the cafe they had the TV going and there was some inane programme being broadcast, but suddenly they had a news bulletin. They announced that President

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Ronald Velasquez had formally handed in his resignation to the Cabinet at ten o'clock this morning." "But did they say why he resigned?" "No. I can guess, but I can't be sure. But no, they didn't mention his reasons." "Oh, gosh, Carl, I hope he isn't in trouble." "Ron in trouble? Have you ever seen Ron in trouble, Em?" "Come to think of it, no. But there's always a first time. They might have brought up that business of the bribes again—said they've got new evidence or something." "No, Em, I don't think that's likely. That bribery case was sorted out thoroughly and the man responsible dealt with. No, I think if anything Ron's got himself out of the possibility of trouble by resigning." "I wish they'd said exactly why he resigned..." Emma said softly. "I expect it will be in the news later," Carl said, "I'm sure he knew what he was doing." "Are you going to phone him?" "No. I'll wait for him to contact me. He will, soon." Emma was distracted by the arrival of Helen and Andrew. "Yeah, I guess he will..." she said absently, "Wash your hands, you two, please." The water boiled and she made a pot of tea. She brought the teapot and two mugs to the table, and took the cocoa jar out of the cupboard. "I don't suppose you children would like some cocoa, would you?" she asked the twins and Benjy. "No, Mummy," Andrew answered very seriously, then grinned and added, "We'd love a cup of cocoa!" "Yes, please!" Helen yelled. "Yef! Yef!" Benjy sang. "I think they said they'd appreciate it," Carl chuckled. "Right," Emma said, and proceeded to prepare them each a mug of cocoa. "Okay, you three," she said as she placed their mugs on the table, "Sit down quietly, now." The children climbed onto the benchseat facing their parents and each one claimed a mug. Carl poured the tea out for Emma and himself. "This family is my oasis," he said, sitting back and putting his arm around his wife's shoulders, "It's always a blessing to come home and just be with you and the children, Em, especially after a day like today." "Can you tell me what happened?" "When these three little sets of ears have gone back to their games, Em." After about ten minutes the children had finished their drinks and asked for permission to go outside again. "It'll soon be teatime," Emma said, "so don't go any further than the playground." "Yes, Mummy," Helen sang out as she flew out of the door. "C'mon, Benjy," Andrew said, taking his little brother's hand, "Let's go play." "Singonsingset?" Benjy asked. 136


"Yep," Andrew said, "The big kids aren't on the swingset now." "Okay," Benjy said, and the two boys also left the camper. Carl gazed after his children until they were out of sight from the doorway, then he turned to Emma and smiled. "You have a lovely trio there, you know," he said. "They're lovely 'cause you're their father," Emma replied. "God's gifts," "Mmmm..." Carl straightened up and stretched his legs under the table. "Do you still want to know what happened to me today?" he asked. "Of course I do!" Emma replied, "Or do you think you shouldn't tell me?" "No, you should know," Carl said, "It adds another tick on the side of stopping our travels." "Oh." "I got to the square around nine o'clock, as usual. There were only two or three people sitting around the forum area, and they hardly looked at me as I sat down on the front row of the benches. I spent about ten minutes praying, as I always do, and then I stood up and turned to face them. They all ignored me. Two of them, a middle-aged man and a woman, were having a conversation, one youngish fellow was reading a book, and the other two, another young man and a woman about the same age, were apparently just sitting there daydreaming. I didn't quite know how to start, how to get their attention, but finally I just began by asking if any of them could tell me something about Jesus Christ." "Did anyone?" "The two who were talking together didn't even seem to have heard me, and the rest of them just stared at me without smiling. It was a little unnerving." "But you've had audiences like that before." "Yes, you're right. I have. And yet I felt something different about this lot. Right from the moment I arrived. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something disconcerting about them. Remember I told you about the crowd—well, the handful of folk—yesterday and how uninterested they were?" "Yes." "Well, these people weren't just uninterested. It felt to me as if they'd come for the express purpose of throwing me off." "Oh, dear. And they succeeded, from the sound of it." "Almost. After about ten minutes I just stopped looking at them. I closed my eyes and prayed for a few moments, and then I just started telling them the Gospel as if they were the most eager audience I'd ever had. I didn't look directly at any one of them, but I could see them all in turn from the corner of my eye, as it were. Their attitudes didn't change for one second. Then I prayed for them—for each of them in turn. After that I sat down again, with my back to them, and spent some time reading my Bible. After a little while I became aware that the atmosphere of the place seemed to have changed. I looked up, and looked around behind me. They'd all left. I took out my flute, 137


then, and spent some time playing whatever came to mind. After a while I realised I'd got myself an audience again—a rather different one." "Who were they?" Carl laughed. "A group of children from the primary school out for a walk with their teachers. When I stopped and greeted them, they all urged me to keep playing. They said it was lovely and they'd never heard anything like it and please would I keep playing!" "Did the teachers appreciate it too?" "Oh, yes. There were three of them, all youngish—early thirties, maybe? When I stopped again they asked me what music I'd been playing." "What was it?" Emma asked. Carl winked. "Mostly hymns and a lot of Bach," he said, grinning. "So how did you explain that to them?" "Well, I had to tell them about God, and Jesus Christ, and the Gospel, didn't I?" "Oh, I see," Emma chuckled, "How did they take it?" "They were all very interested," Carl said happily, "and they sat around me asking questions until one of the teachers realised it was high time they got back to school. One of them asked if he could come and talk to me again and find out more. I agreed to meet him at lunch time right there in the square." "Did he turn up?" Emma asked. Carl's face turned grim. "Did he ever," he said softly. "What happened?" "He arrived, with his lunch, just as we'd agreed. I'd gone and bought myself a sandwich at the kiosk. We sat there in the forum talking quite happily and eating our lunches, and he told me about himself and asked me more about the Lord. On the surface it seemed quite fair dinkum, but for some reason I felt increasingly uncomfortable and dubious about him. I asked him some leading questions about politics and so on, but he managed to answer them without answering them, if you know what I mean. Then his lunch hour was up and he thanked me and left." "Did you preach again after that?" "A few folk started drifting in and sitting down in the forum, so after a while I decided to have another go. I prayed again, and then I stood up and looked around at them. I recognised the five from the morning, and that put me on my guard. They were scattered among the others, now, but that didn't make them any less hostile. Every single one of the people there were staring at me in the same way. It felt like a black cloud descending on the place." "Did you go ahead and preach anyway?" Emma asked. "Yes, I did. At least, I began to," Carl said, and shivered. "Are you cold?" "No. That was just a reaction." "What did they do, Carl?" "They stared, without blinking, almost, through most of my message. It was the most awful feeling—like talking to a crowd of statues. Then, before I'd finished, one of them—I didn't see who—threw a stone at me. It was only 138


a pebble, but it hit me just under my eye, and it hurt. But more than that, it scared me. And it scared me even more when the others started throwing pebbles too. They'd started humming just before that first pebble, and their humming got louder and louder the more pebbles they threw at me." "Gosh, this sounds weird to me." "It was, Em. It was really weird. In the end I decided I couldn't stay there any longer, and I picked up my Bible and I ran away. I don't know if they followed me, but I didn't look. I ran into that cafe I told you about, and I hid in there. I sat in a booth at the back and I ordered some coffee and a sandwich which I never even touched, and I just sat there with my heart thumping hard." "And they didn't come looking for you?" "No, but someone else found me there. I think he must have followed me." "Who was that?" "The schoolteacher I'd met for lunch. He came into the cafe and headed straight for where I was sitting, and sat down across from me." "What did he want?" "He wanted to warn me, he said. He told me that the people in the square were members of a political group which is getting stronger in this town. They planned this whole thing after our last visit here—it was no accident. He said they know everything about me and my family and they're determined to make an example of us. He said we ought to leave the town until things calm down. He told me that these people are very dangerous and will stop at nothing." "But can't the police stop them?" "That's what I asked him. He said that more than half the police force in town, including the chief of police, are members of that group." "Oh, no! That can't be true!" "It's true, I'm afraid. I went and asked Pastor Strand about it. He confirmed everything the man had told me. He showed me how they've been harassing him and his church, too." "Carl, this is terrible news. This sounds like the rise of the Protectioners all over again." "We know the New Protectioners are around, Em." "Yes, but I didn't think they were getting this powerful!" "Well, they are, and the way things are going, I can't see how they can be stopped." "Everybody's too concerned about themselves to notice." "That's right." "And Ron's resigned the Presidency—the one man who was in a position to do something about it." "Oh, I don't know, Em. Unless Ron's changed drastically, I'd say he's decided he can do more for the country by going back to his old grassrootstype position as Inspector of Police. I don't think his resigning from the Presidency means that he's going to go into hibernation." "I wonder why he resigned..." 139


"I expect he'll let us know very soon."

! ! ! "Anoopussme'unsing," Benjy informed his mother as she washed him that evening after tea. "He gave you a push on the swing, did he?" Emma said. "Yef," Benjy said, "Up, up, up." "And down, down, down," Emma added. "Yef!" Benjy yelled, clapping his hands. Andrew was lying on his stomach on the end of the double berth, watching them. "He likes going up high," he said, "but I get scared he might fall off." "He holds on tight," Helen said. She was sitting at the table leaning against Carl's side while he read the day's mail. "It still makes me frightened," Andrew said firmly, "I don't push him hard." "Singohevn, Mummy?" Benjy asked. "What was that?" Emma asked. She had been concentrating on getting him dry and hadn't understood him. "He asked can the swing go to heaven," Andrew translated. "If he lets go it certainly can," Carl said without looking up, "Only I'd rather he didn't let go." "Huh?" Andrew said, "I don't get it." "Never mind," Emma said, "Daddy's just being silly." Carl chuckled, but said nothing more. "Daddygohevn, Mummy?" Benjy asked. This was a question he asked regularly, and he always listened very hard to the answer. Emma knew the pattern of these questions by now. "Daddy will go to heaven when he dies," Emma said, "because Jesus saved him and Daddy loves Jesus." "Anoo, Mummy? 'len?" "Yes, Benjy, they'll go to heaven too." "Mummy?" "Me, too." "Ben'y, Mummy?" "Do you love Jesus, Benjy?" "Yef! Yef! Loveesus! Yef!" "Well, you'll go to heaven too, then." Benjy grew very solemn. He was quite oblivious now to the fact that his father, sister, and brother were all watching him and listening as he talked with his mother. "Gotinhevn, Mummy?" he asked, "Eesusinhevn?" "Yes, Benjy, that's right, God is in Heaven and so is Jesus." "Loveesus, Mummy. Eesuslovben'y. Happy, Mummy, yef?" "Yes, Benjy, I'm very happy that you love Jesus, because I love Him too." "Me, too, Benjy," Andrew said, "I'm happy that you love Jesus."

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"So'm I," Helen said. "Benjy, you're making us all very happy tonight," Carl said. Benjamin climbed onto the bench seat and crawled into his father's lap. "Daddy happy?" he asked. Carl hugged him and grinned. "I'm very happy, Benjy. Not even a crowd of stone-throwers can take that away from me." He looked over at Emma and winked. "God's love is stronger than anything," he said, "and he's just reminded me of that." The reference to stone-throwers had taken the smile off Emma's face. "Do you think we ought to move on, though?" she asked anxiously. "Oh, yes," Carl said, "First thing tomorrow morning, soon's we've had breakfast." "Where are we going, Daddy?" Helen asked. "Back to Apmirra, my girl," Carl said, "I need to see Uncle Jack and Uncle Ron." "You children had better get to bed," Emma said, "We've got to get up early." "Seeyunklshack!" Benjy cried. "Tomorrow, Benjy," Carl said, "Now it's time to go to sleep." As Carl was putting him to bed, Andrew gave him a hug. "You know something, Daddy?" he said softly, "Benjy's a pain sometimes, but most of the time I like him a lot." "I know," Carl said, "and I thank God that He gave Benjy you and Helen for his brother and sister." "I thank God that He gave me Benjy for my brother, Daddy. He loves Jesus a whole lot. He told me when we were at the playground. He said he loves Jesus and Daddy heaps. Like that, with his arms right out, he said it."

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CHAPTER 15 At the same time as Carl was discovering the strength of the undercurrent of Protection-style feeling in the Federation he became aware rather painfully of a trend in himself which he thought had been dealt with three years earlier. The incident which shook him was triggered by a request from their young friend Carrie in Brown's Reef. She'd phoned Emma and Carl that morning and asked if Benjamin could possibly be ring-bearer at her wedding in two months' time. Looking back later, neither Carl nor Emma could really remember exactly how the trouble had started. It was their tenth anniversary, and they'd been staying in their flat in Apmirra for a month's break from their constant travelling. The three children had gone to spend the weekend with Jack and Rose so that Carl and Emma could have some time to themselves. Perhaps it had begun with their disagreement about Benjamin's participation in Carrie's wedding. Carl couldn't see why Benjamin could not be ring-bearer, but Emma had a dozen reasons why he could not. After Carrie's phone call they'd argued about it in a way in which they'd never argued before, neither of them listening to the other and neither taking the initiative to stop the fight. Finally they'd called a truce so that they might have some lunch, but it had been an uneasy truce. After lunch Emma had gone to their bedroom to change into some of her old clothes. She wanted to do some tidying up in the flat and thought she should wear more comfortable clothing than what she had put on that morning. She'd just finished getting changed when Carl came into the room looking for something. He glanced at her and noticed the old clothes she had put on. To her surprise, he looked annoyed. "Why on earth are you wearing that?" he exclaimed, "You can't go out dressed like that!" Emma was puzzled by his outburst. "I'm not going out," she replied, "I wanted to be more comfortable to do some tidying up. I also didn't want to risk damaging my good clothes." "You're not going out?" he cried, "I was going to take you out for the afternoon, for our anniversary! I was going to take you out for dinner! And you say you're not going out? You say you're going to do some tidying up?" She was still smarting from the earlier argument, and this was the first she'd heard of his intentions for their anniversary. "You didn't tell me you wanted to go out," she said hotly, "How am I supposed to know?" "I did tell you," Carl snapped, "You just didn't listen!" "You did not tell me!" she cried indignantly. By now Carl had quite lost his temper. "I told you just before lunch," he yelled back, "I said it would be nice to go out for the afternoon to celebrate, but you obviously couldn't care less!"

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Angrily, Emma threw the clothes she'd been holding onto the bed. "Oh, go away!" she shouted, "I can't stand it when you get all self-righteous! You didn't tell me, but you refuse to believe me! Just go away!" "All right," Carl growled, "If that's how you feel about it, I'll go!" He stamped out of the room, and a few seconds later she heard the sound of the front door shutting. Emma stood for a moment as if she'd suddenly become paralysed, as she realised that Carl had taken her literally and had actually left the flat. After a moment she recovered herself and rushed to the front door and out into the hall. The lift was already halfway down to the ground floor, so she ran over to the window overlooking the front entrance of the building, opened it, and looked down. When Carl came out and began striding down the footpath and turned towards the Park, she called out to him. He didn't even look up, but continued to walk away rapidly. Watching him go, she felt a pang of fear. Where was he going? What had she done? And on their anniversary, too! How could she have told him to go away? But how could he have thought that she'd really meant it? Did he really think that she wanted him to leave? She had no idea where he was going, so she couldn't go to him. Would he come back? What if he didn't come back? What would she do then? She walked slowly back to their flat, went in and shut the door, and stood in the middle of the lounge not knowing what to do. The sudden thought of life without Carl horrified her. She was appalled at how easily she'd dismissed him, how easily she'd sent him away—the one man in the world who meant more to her than anybody else. He must have been deeply hurt at what he saw as her rejection of his plans for their anniversary, or he wouldn't have rushed off like that. Yet she was quite sure he hadn't told her about them. Why had he been so sure that he had told her? But why had they been so angry, anyway? It seemed to her that they'd spent a good deal of the morning arguing, as it was. Why? They never argued like that—they hardly ever argued at all! What had gone wrong? And on their anniversary, what's more! She went back to the kitchen, and then into the bedroom, trying to work out where and when things had taken a wrong turn, what had happened to bring them to such misunderstanding. As she walked into the bedroom, the first thing that caught her eye was a small, gift-wrapped parcel on Carl's bedside table, and she felt even worse as she realised that he'd been planning to give her something special. An emptiness had been growing inside her from the moment when she'd watched Carl walking away from the building. It suddenly overwhelmed her and she threw herself face-down on their bed, weeping disconsolately.

! ! ! Carl had walked rapidly, angrily, down to the park along the lakeshore. He was furious at Emma and very hurt, and he had no intention of going

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back. She'd told him to leave—well, she was rid of him! Despite his anger, however, it did occur to him that he would need somewhere to spend the night. He couldn't very well curl up under a bush in the park, after all. At a nearby motel he paid for a room and promptly retreated to it and locked himself in. He threw himself down in an armchair and sat there fuming. Why does Emma have to be so stubborn! he said to himself, Why does she have to be so picky? Why shouldn't Benjy be ring-bearer? And why can't she pay attention when I tell her something important, when I tell her I'm taking her out? Tidying up the flat, indeed! She seems to spend half her life tidying up! Why does she always have to insist on everything being done just so? Doesn't she know that orderliness can be carried too far? Always organising me and the children—it's just too much! After the best part of an hour he realised he was worn out. His anger had become stale and now he simply felt depressed. Not even bothering to take off his shoes, he lay down on the bed and went to sleep. When he woke up he was surprised to find that it was dark. He got up and switched on a light, then went into the bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair. He looked at his watch. Might as well go and have something to eat, he decided, it's past teatime. He left the motel and went to the nearest restaurant, where he found a table in a corner. It happened to be the same restaurant to which he'd taken Emma on their last anniversary, and the memory of that meal only emphasised his present solitude. When his order was brought to him he found he had little appetite and he ate up hurriedly, paid for his meal, and left. Not knowing what else to do, he went back to the motel and lay down again, but this time he couldn't sleep. His thoughts kept wandering back to Emma, back to their argument. What had happened? Why had they been so angry? Had he told her about his plans? Maybe she was right and he hadn't voiced his thoughts to her. But he was so sure he had! And yet, Emma had been equally sure that he hadn't—and Emma was usually right about such things. She was such an orderly and methodical person, and he was so disorganised and impulsive... Oh, God, he thought, what have I done? he whispered to himself, What have I done to my wonderful wife? His thoughts had turned to God, and with horror he became aware that he hadn't thought of God all day. He hadn't prayed since the day before, and even then it had been only half-hearted. No wonder things had gone wrong— he'd started walking off the right path... Again. Wouldn't he ever learn? With a pang he realised that he was missing Emma like mad. This was their anniversary! He even had a gift for her—for his wonderful, precious Emma! What on earth was he doing here in a motel by himself on their wedding anniversary? Without warning his thoughts went back to those awful two weeks ten years before, when Emma had been his counsellee. He shuddered—how could he be treating her like that again? Surely leaving her the way he had done would have hurt her as much if not more than if he'd beaten her. Memories of the day when she'd been taken to hospital with

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meningitis flooded back as well. He'd left her in anger that day, too, for much the same reason as today—his own selfishness. He slid off the bed and knelt beside it feeling terrible—after all the love Emma showed him every single day, he'd gone and treated her like dirt! Hiding his face in his hands, he prayed and asked God's forgiveness for taking his eyes off Him and for the way he'd behaved towards his wife. Finally he sat back on his heels and looked at his watch. It wasn't midnight yet, but the day of their anniversary was almost over and he'd ruined it by his selfishness. Emma might still be angry at him—and she had reason to be. Should he go back? In answer to his own question he left the room, dropped the keycard in the box by the office, and went off at a jog towards home. When he entered their flat he found that the only light on in the place was the one in the hall between the bedrooms and the kitchen, which came on automatically at dusk. Was Emma still there, or had she left, too? He walked quietly towards their bedroom and looked in at the open door. By the light from the hallway he saw his wife lying face-down on their bed, apparently asleep. He crept over to the side of the bed and crouched down so he could see her face. She was indeed asleep, but her face still showed signs that she had been crying. She must have been crying an awful long time, he thought, and felt dreadful at the thought that he'd been the cause of her weeping. He wondered if he should wake her up, then decided to let her sleep. However, he took off his shoes and his jacket and carefully lay down on the bed next to her. Then he gently drew her into his arms and to his side. She didn't wake up, but in her sleep she sighed and snuggled up to him, and his heart was warmed as he held her close. After a little while he dozed, but he didn't go to sleep. Some time later Emma woke up. She was surprised, but also immensely relieved to find herself in her husband's arms. "Carl?" she whispered, wondering if he was asleep. He hugged her close and whispered back, "Yes, love?" Emma put her arms around him and burst into tears on his shoulder. "Oh, Carl, I'm sorry!" she wailed, "I went and ruined our anniversary! I'm sorry, Carl, I'm sorry!" "Oh, Em, I'm sorry too," he said softly, "I was horribly selfish. I'm the one who ruined our anniversary by leaving you like that. Can you forgive me, Em? I'll never do that again, Em—I can't live without you." "Oh gosh, Carl, I forgive you, of course I do. I can't live without you, Carl. Can you ever forgive me for being so horrid and telling you to go away?" He hugged her again and kissed her forehead. "Of course I forgive you, Em. I was an idiot to even think that you actually meant it, and to walk away from you like that. Oh, I wish I'd come straight back when you called to me, Em. What an awful thing to do to you!" "I hurt you, Carl, I know. I don't ever want to hurt you like that again. And it was our anniversary, too—we ought to have been celebrating, not fighting." 145


"We can still celebrate our anniversary, Em. Ten years of marriage—we've got to celebrate it, even if we do it a day late. Would you like that? Shall we go out somewhere special for lunch tomorrow?" "Please, yes! Please, let's, Carl. And please hold me tight, and don't ever go away like that again, even if I tell you to a hundred times! Don't ever listen to me if I do that again, please!" "You won't do it again, Em," he assured her, "and I'll never leave you like that again. Oh, Em, I hadn't been praying, I'd started to take my eyes off the Lord, and look what happened!" "I've been slipping too, Carl. I've been letting my time alone with the Lord be pushed aside by things which seem more important. But they aren't, really, are they? It's my fault, too, Carl." "Em, let's pray. Let's ask God's forgiveness, now. Together." He got up, and she followed him, and together they knelt by the bed with their arms around each other. They prayed for a long while, pouring out their hearts to God together. When they'd finished, Carl sat down on the floor with his back against the bed, and put his arm around Emma as she sat down next to him. "I love you, Em, I really do," he said softly, "It's so good to be with you." "I'm so glad you're my husband," she whispered, "I do love you too." She was silent for a moment, then added quietly, "Carl, what happened? How did we ever end up having a horrible fight like that?" "I'm not sure, Em. We had an argument about Benjy being or not being a ring-bearer, then we had lunch, and I'd been thinking of taking you out for the rest of the day..." Carl stopped, and made himself review exactly what had preceded their fight. "Em," he said at last, hesitantly, "I have a horrible feeling you were right after all. I'd been thinking about taking you out, but I hadn't actually got around to telling you." "I was so angry about our argument about Benjy that I'm not sure I would have listened to you had you told me, anyway," Emma admitted softly. They were stunned by how easily and foolishly they'd turned against each other, and that on the very day when they should have been celebrating their union! Carl wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her. "Em," he said, "Tell me again the reason why you don't think Benjy should be Carrie's ringbearer, and this time I'll listen to you properly." "Carl, I think my reasons are because I'm being over-protective and I'm afraid Benjy will make a fool of himself and people will laugh at him and Carrie's wedding will be messed up. They're not very good reasons, really. I'm sure Carrie would have thought of them too, but she decided that Benjy would be so pleased and she knows how hard he'll work at doing everything right. I'm too fussy about things being done just so, that's all." "Oh, my methodical Emma, that's one of the reasons I fell in love with you, you know," Carl said, grinning, "because you like things to be right and orderly and that's a good way to be. You go overboard sometimes, but not often. You're wonderful, Em. You love Benjamin, so of course you want to 146


protect him. And you love Carrie, so of course you want her wedding to be perfect." "But you're right, Carl—we should let Benjamin be Carrie's ring-bearer. We'd never have had a fight like that if I'd just submitted to my husband when he and I disagreed about what to do." Carl didn't comment about that, for he agreed with her, and he knew that she knew it. Instead, he kissed her again, then he stood up and stretched and helped her to her feet. "My love," he said, "Something that's quite clear to me right now is that we have to help each other to keep close to the Lord. You and I will have to keep tabs on each other's time with God, you know. We can't afford to let each other slip like we've just done." "Oh, gosh, Carl—please do keep track of me! I need that—I get so caught up with looking after the children and our home and all those people who need encouraging, and it's so easy to keep putting off my time with God. Please don't let me do it." "I'll do my best, Em. I can't afford to let you slip any more than you want me to backslide." He stretched again and yawned. "I now suggest that we change into our nightclothes and get to bed," he said, "There's not much left of the night but we might as well get a few hours' sleep, don't you think?" Emma put her arms around his waist, hugged him, then looked up at him with a mischievous grin. "Just sleep, Carl?" she asked quietly. He laughed and hugged her in delight. "I'm open to suggestions, Em," he chuckled, "Just what did you have in mind?"

! ! ! It was not very long after this that something happened which started Carl praying more specifically about what his directions should be for his future work. The family was once again visiting Estella, but they were staying in the camper rather than in Ben's house for Ben's guest room was once again occupied by Somsay Ng's son. Carl had spent most of the day attempting to preach in the local park, with much harassment from the local contingent of the New Protection Party. Worn out by this experience, he'd decided to stay in the camper while Emma and the children went to buy some take-away food for tea. He was sitting at the table reading his Bible and praying when Helen came bounding into the camper in a panic. "Daddy!" she yelled, "Come quick! Benjy's gone again!" He leapt up and she pulled at his arm. "Come quick, Daddy!" she repeated urgently as they went outside and he locked the door of the camper. "Can you tell me what happened, Helen?" he asked as they walked rapidly towards the shops along the esplanade.

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Helen was quite breathless as she almost had to run to keep up with her father's long strides. "Mummy was buying fish and chips," she said, "and Andrew and me, we were looking at all the fishes they were selling in the shop, and when Mummy had finished we went to leave and we saw that Benjy was gone again." Again! Benjy had more than made up for his slowness in learning to walk by avoiding standing still at every opportunity. This tendency of his to let his legs decide what he would do with his time was becoming a nightmare for his family. They seemed to spend half their time chasing after him in strange towns! Carl determined then and there that he could no longer put off doing something about it. He spotted Emma and Andrew waiting in front of the fish shop, and broke into a run. Helen gave up on trying to keep up, but she sped up anyway. Emma caught sight of her husband and ran towards him. He could see that she was very frightened, and he put his arm around her. "Have you looked for him?" he asked. "N-No, we haven't," she stammered, "I-I haven't a clue where t-to start! I don't even know how long he's been gone! Oh, gosh, Carl—what kind of a mother am I to let this happen again?" "It's not your fault, Em, be sure of that," he said, giving her a quick squeeze, "Now—did anyone in the shop see him leave?" "Oh, gosh, I didn't even think of asking! How stupid can I be?" "You're upset, Em, not stupid," Carl said, taking her arm, "Come on, let's go ask them." The woman behind the counter in the fish shop told them that she had indeed seen a little boy walk out of the shop while she was serving Emma, but she hadn't paid much attention. She'd assumed that the boy had been with the people who'd left the shop just after Emma had arrived. They went out again and stood outside the fish shop looking up and down the street. "He could be anywhere!" Emma exclaimed hopelessly. "Well, we won't find him by standing still," Carl said, "so we'd better start moving." He was about to start walking down the street when Andrew pulled gently on his shirt. "Daddy," he said quietly, "We haven't prayed yet." Carl looked down at him in amazement. "You're right, Andrew," he said soberly, "That's the first thing we ought to do." He drew Emma and the twins closer and put his arms around them, and led them in prayer for Benjamin's safety. When Carl had finished, he looked up and down the street again. "Well, which way shall we go first?" he asked. "Maybe he went to see the water?" Helen suggested. "Oh, I hope not!" Emma said, "He might fall in, and he can't swim!" "I'm inclined to agree with Helen, I'm afraid," Carl said pessimistically, "Let's go over to the jetty." He saw the stricken look on Emma's face and he squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, Em, God's looking after him. We'll find him, you'll see. Come on, let's go."

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The long jetty stuck out into the harbour at the end of the esplanade, between the breakwater and the beach. Here the fishing boats and trawlers came to deliver their catch every morning. At this time of day, however, it was the scene of much frantic activity as the fishermen prepared for their night's work out on the ocean. Emma's heart raced as she thought of how easily a small boy could meet with an accident amid the noise and apparent confusion they found on the jetty. Carl let go of his wife's hand and hurried from crew to crew, asking after Benjamin and getting mostly shrugs and an occasional grunted denial in answer. The men were far too busy to concern themselves with one small lost child. Carl was beginning to feel quite frightened about his son when a big, blond man with a commanding aspect approached him. "You by any chance after the kid with the funny face?" he roared over the din of trawler-chains and shouting men. The description had to be of Benjamin, but Carl winced at the words. "Yeah," he yelled back, "Have you seen him?" "Over yonder," the fisherman shouted, gesturing over his shoulder with his hand and his chin, "by the weighing room. Beaut breeze there, mate!" He laughed. "Kid likes it!" Though he wondered what the man could possibly mean, Carl didn't stay to reply but strode off quickly towards the small building near the end of the jetty. Emma, holding the twins' hands, had carefully made her way to where he'd been stopped by the blond giant and reached the spot just as Carl set off again. He reached the weighing room and stopped abruptly at the scene that met his eyes. There was Benjamin, surrounded by a small group of laughing fishermen. He had his eyes closed and was completely oblivious to his audience as he stood there with a wide smile on his face, his head flung back and his hair flying, his arms spread out. He was a picture of utter contentment as the strong breeze blowing in from the ocean between the weighing room and the pilots' office buffeted him. Suddenly Carl felt as if he were standing in a cathedral. Awe filled him as he looked at his little son, the child who only that morning had run to him screaming as a light breeze had blown his cap off his head. Benjamin was obviously enjoying the sensation of the wind blowing on his body and on his face! This was a miracle—there was no other word for it, and for Carl it was one of those sacred moments when God was so near he felt he might touch Him if he put out his hand. As Emma and the twins came up to him he motioned to them to stop and look. He didn't dare speak, but he took Emma's hand and she gave his hand a squeeze as she realised what he was seeing. Andrew and Helen, too, understood that something awesome had happened, and they gripped each other's hands excitedly. "He likes it," Andrew said in astonishment, but no-one heard him above the surrounding noise.

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At last Carl let go of Emma's hand and went over to Benjamin. The wind from the sea buffeted him and flung his hair about. Gently he took his son's hand. "Come on, Benjy," he said loudly, "Time to go home." Benjamin opened his eyes and smiled up at his father. "Wind, Daddy, wind," he said happily, and pointed to the space between the two buildings. Carl crouched down beside him and put his arm around him. He put his cheek against Benjamin's and the two of them faced the wind together. "Lovely wind, isn't it, Benjy?" he said. The most beautiful wind in the world, he said to himself, Thank You, Lord, for such a wind. "'Ovlywind," Benjamin repeated, "'Ovlywind." Carl picked him up and turned back towards his family. "We'd better go home and have tea, Benjy." "Tea! Tea!" his son yelled, "Have tea!" They joined Emma and the twins, and Emma hugged her husband and son with tears flowing down her cheeks. "Thank You, Lord, for keeping him safe," she said, "Thank You that we found him so quickly." "Mummy!" Benjamin yelled, "'Ovlywind, Mummy! 'Ook!" He twisted around in Carl's arms to point back to the two sheds on the end of the jetty. "Yes, it is a lovely wind, isn't it?" his mother agreed, "I'm so glad you like it." They made their way back through the tangle of men, ropes, chains, and nets, pausing to wave their thanks to the blond fisherman. He grinned and gave them a "thumbs up" sign, and went back to his work. Several men laughed and waved as Benjamin yelled "'Ovly wind!" When they reached Ben's house Emma took the children into the camper to get them ready to have tea, and Carl went to tell Ben about what had happened. "Those fishermen must've wondered what all the fuss was about!" he finished, laughing. Ben smiled wistfully. "If they only knew," he said quietly, "If they only knew what it is they witnessed today... A miracle, just for Benjy—and he has no idea it's happened!"

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CHAPTER 16 Ron Velasquez sat in his favourite armchair in the corner of his living room and stared incredulously at Carl, who was sitting on the sofa across from him. "You're going to settle down and start what?" he exclaimed. "A farm, a large family, and a church," Carl repeated, "You heard me right. Look, Ron, Benjamin's four. He's getting more difficult to keep track of every day. If we don't watch him like eagles he's off exploring, and he's got no fear. As you know, even the wind doesn't frighten him any more now. As far as he's concerned, every stranger is a potential friend. We keep losing him, and it's turning our itinerant lifestyle into a nightmare. This habit he has of wandering off by himself is threatening Emma's sanity—not to mention mine and the twins'—and I'm finding it harder and harder all the time to concentrate on my preaching. We spend far too much time on search and rescue missions for Benjy. On top of that it's become impossible to preach in some places, because of the New Protectioners. They seem to be very strong in some towns. I'm getting tired of replacing the camper windscreen every fortnight." He stood up and walked over to the window and gazed out for a moment. Ron's flat was on the tenth floor of the building and had a good view, over the centre of the capital and its lake, towards the National Forest and the mountains beyond. He turned back to face Ron, who had remained seated but had turned around to look at him. "Besides," he continued, "I've been feeling increasingly uneasy about several things, some related to my work, some not." "Oh. What things are these?" Ron asked. "To start with," Carl replied, "the lack of follow-up of new Christians in some of the towns is a worry. Most of the pastors are overworked and other folks don't seem to think it's part of their being Christians to disciple those who are new to the faith. Jack's one of those pastors. His church has really gone downhill since the days when they had to face persecution. No fault of Jack's mind you—as you know, he's as strong as ever. But the apathy of some of the people in his flock is appalling. They don't believe in carrying their own burdens anymore, let alone one another's! Look at what happened to you, for example! That awful situation with the trade deals! And the scandal caused by your resignation! The Christians heard you admit your selfish ambitions and instead of forgiving you they tore you to shreds! When you most needed prayer and encouragement, all you got was angry criticism!" "Well, I was in the wrong..." "I'm not saying you weren't. I know right from wrong too. But only a handful of people were there when you needed help to get back on track— the rest of them just turned their backs on you and refused to forgive you even when you admitted your fault and took the consequences."

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Ron shrugged. "Yes, well, that's all over now," he said quietly, "I'd rather forget it all. There's no point getting bitter about it. There's no guarantee I wouldn't have done the same thing, in their shoes, is there?" He shrugged again. "Never mind," he said, "What other things make you uneasy?" "It may be all over as far as you're concerned, Ron, but the churches themselves are still in the same condition. Henry's church is about the only one I know that's still pretty much on track. They're not spending their time discussing doctrine, attacking non-Christians, and arguing about issues and buildings—they're out there living and preaching the Gospel!" Carl returned to his seat on the sofa and sighed. "It's also frightening to see the number of believers who are afraid of being identified as Christians, who are afraid of making enemies if they stand up for Jesus Christ." "They don't seem to realise," Ron said, "that they already have enemies, just because they are Christians, whether they live their faith or not." "Like the Jews throughout history who were persecuted whether they claimed their Jewishness or not," Carl went on, "Except that in their case you were Jewish whether you actually believed or not. Yes. Anyway, the other thing that's bothering me is the current social and political climate. People are more and more afraid of being seen as different. Everybody jumps onto every new bandwagon for fear of being labelled a 'Crooked Thinker'—" "That's 'Social Misfit', these days," Ron corrected, "Same thing, different label." "I know. The trouble is, not only are they afraid to be different—which means of course that Christians are becoming afraid of being Christians— but worse, they're also afraid of anyone else who's different." "Ah," Ron said, slapping his knee, "I can guess what you're concerned about—the New Protectioners' campaign against the handicapped, isn't it?" "That's right. An awful lot of people are refusing to have anything to do with the handicapped—especially the mentally handicapped like Benjy. The handful of people who are concerned about them—mostly their parents—are carrying more than their share of the load of caring for them. The New Protectioners are being subtle, but they're succeeding in turning people against the handicapped." "And those who care for them are getting no help from either the government or the churches..." "The churches. That's one of the reasons I want to stop travelling, Ron— that I feel called to stop travelling, if you want. Everything's pointing to the need for us to settle down so we can have time to help build up our brothers and sisters in Christ—or rather, to be God's instruments in building them up—and to look after people like Benjy. We can't do that if we're on the road half the time, or if we're spending the rest of our time exploring strange towns in search of our youngest. The believers have to be built up, discipled, encouraged, because it's only a matter of time before they'll have to choose between apostasy and faith. Apostasy will guarantee them safety from persecution. Faith will guarantee that they'll be hounded, tormented, maybe even killed. The next Experimental Farm might not be long in coming. The

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net is tightening again, just as it was after the Republic was proclaimed back at the beginning of the century, Ron. You can see that, can't you?" "Well, that's why I got out of politics, isn't it? Why I resigned the Presidency? I finally saw that because of my ambition I was becoming part of the System. It was you who pointed out to me that the System was beginning to look horribly familiar, remember?" Ron smiled, and then chuckled, to Carl's confusion. "Actually," he said, "in the end it was Jack who knocked me off my pedestal and brought me back to my senses." "Jack?" Carl said in surprise, "You've never told me about that. What did he do?" Ron grimaced. "I've never told anyone about it, Carl," he said, "It wasn't all the to-do in the media, or the flak from the churches, or anything like that which that caused me to resign, you know. It was God, and he used Jack to ensure I'd hear him. The memory of that encounter still makes me wince." "Was it that painful, then?" "Oh, it was! I can smile about it now, but believe me, it felt as if Jack had knifed me, at the time!" The incongruous image of gentle Jack Winston knifing anyone, let alone one of his closest friends, startled Carl. "What happened?" he asked. "Let me tell you, first," Ron said quietly, "that I thank God from the bottom of my heart for your brother-in-law, Carl. I thank God for Jack's love for me which made him very bold that day. He was willing to take the risk of my turning against him because he cared too much about me to let me get away with my behaviour. You know he isn't one to lose his temper easily, but that day he was definitely not gentle with me, and did it hurt! I came very close to hating Jack, then." It was Ron's turn to get up and look out of the window. He stood there, thinking, for a moment, then turned back to Carl. "There I was," he continued, "in my office at the Government Assembly Building, busy with all that my roles as President of the Federation of Pamanyungan and egotist par excellence entailed, when my secretary informed me that my next appointment was with Pastor Jack Winston. I was annoyed that he should be there to see me, but I wasn't sure why it annoyed me. Then I remembered—I'd decided to reinstate the National Prayer Breakfast, and I needed someone to lead it. You might recall that I had grandiose plans for our country. Well, I wanted God to bless my plans, so why not bring back that institution of the turn of the century? And wouldn't Jack be the ideal man to lead it? So I'd asked him to come and see me—but I'd forgotten all about it by then." "Did he agree to it? I don't remem—" "No, wait! Let me tell you what happened. When he came in I was still annoyed because I didn't feel I really had time for any church business, which I saw as quite irrelevant to the political stage. I was even beginning to question this prayer breakfast idea." He slapped the back of the sofa Carl was sitting on. "Oh, boy, Carl, I can hardly believe now how far from the Lord I managed to get, when I was President! To get so far as to think that 153


the church was irrelevant! I guess my annoyance showed—to someone as discerning as Jack, anyway. After we greeted each other and so on, I launched into a florid description of what I had in mind for the country. Jack just sat there and sort of gaped at me. 'You're pulling my leg, surely?' he asked. 'Of course not!' I said, 'I'm dead serious!' He looked at me then for a long time without saying anything. You know how he does that, sometimes? Looks at you as if he's weighing up whether he should break some awful news to you or not?" "Yeah. He looked at me like that when he recognised me as the man who had taken his children away, twenty-some years ago. I knew from his look that he'd recognised me, but he didn't say anything about it. He sat me down and led me to Christ instead. A true man of God." "He's a good man, Jack is. A lot of people don't like him, though." "A very large number of people don't like those who are good, Ron. They don't like the reminder that they are not good. They don't like those who stand firm for what is right." "Well, I certainly didn't like it that day, I can tell you! Jack looked at me like that for a long while, and then he suddenly asked me, in that quiet way he has, if he could tell me something dead serious. The way he said that made me quite uncomfortable, but I didn't want to look stupid, so I said, 'Sure, go ahead.' He said, and he even sounded angry then, 'Ron, once upon a time you were someone who could go through the unending difficulties of life and still find the funny things about it and remind us of them. But since you became President, Ron, do you know what you've become? You've become a bore, Ron, a dreadful bore!' He came as close to shouting as he ever does, you know, and I felt as if he'd plunged a knife in my stomach. Me, the man whom everyone said could keep a hallful of people hanging on my every word—he called me a bore! I was so angry, Carl, that I just jumped up and yelled at him to leave, that I didn't want to see him ever again! He just got up and walked out of the room without saying a word." Ron's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I spent the rest of his allotted fifteen minutes stamping and crashing around my office in a rage..." He looked at Carl and raised his eyebrows, as if to underline the fact that yes, he'd got that low. "It was several days before I realised just what Jack had been saying that day. One morning I was here, at home, going through some old papers of mine, when the greeting on a letter from Henry caught my eye. 'Dear Founder and President of the National Leg Pullers' Society,' the greeting said. I sat there staring at it—reading and re-reading it. And then it struck me—what Jack had been saying, what he'd meant. I'd lost my sense of humour, just like Ben had warned me I would... I'd become dead serious." "Your sense of humour—a peculiar but very precious gift from God, Ron. I'm glad you didn't lose it permanently." "So am I, believe me! You remember the rest, don't you? How I cancelled all those projects which were purely and simply for my own exaltation; my speech to Parliament; the decision to resign... When the joke was on me, all I could do was cry, because I saw what I'd become and it was horrible. I was salvageable, though, thank God, even if the process was rather humiliating. 154


It took me a while, though, to realise that God was laughing at me, while at the same time He was picking me up off the floor and dusting me off. He hadn't finished with me yet." Ron grinned sheepishly. "God is faithful," he said, "but I must admit that His faithfulness is painful sometimes." He sighed deeply. "Let's get back to your plans, though. We got off the track somehow." "It was a very interesting side-track, Ron," Carl said, "Thanks for telling me. I hope Jack will never again have reason to call you a bore! You drive us around the twist with your wit, but I'd rather be driven mad by you than be put to sleep! Anyway, as I said before, the lack of follow-up, of discipling, of new believers really disturbs me. I keep coming across people who came to Christ after hearing me preach and who are almost indistinguishable from non-believers or who are involved in some sect or other. Nobody's teaching them! Or if they're getting good teaching, no-one's mentoring them! No-one wants the responsibility of carrying one another's burdens! It's scary that this should be happening. Do you remember Pastor Avdyev in Brown's Reef?" "Yeah—the fellow who rushes in and then remembers he's expected to knock on the door first? But by then people are so glad he's turned up that it doesn't matter? A real lighthouse out there?" "That's right. Outgoing almost to a fault but really steady on the Lord's path. Last time we were there I spent quite some time with him, looking up people he'd been trying to follow up. But one man can't do it all! Only one or two other people in his church—Frank's one of them—were actively discipling someone. He was considering setting up a discipling community, and that's where I got this idea. He's setting up a farm and workshop and people will live with him and his family and work on the farm while they're being given a firm footing on the Way. Sort of like the old Bible college idea, only not at all academic but geared to everyday living. That's what I have in mind, too, but I want to incorporate some way of caring for handicapped children and training them. We know too many families who are struggling with the difficulties of coping with their mentally handicapped child and we want to give them some relief." "But why a farm? You're not a farmer, after all." "Why a farm? Well, it would provide a way of supporting ourselves as well as training the children in practical work. As for my not being a farmer... Do you remember me telling you that I was assistant farm manager to Will Newman back when Emma and I were married, and he had me take a course in farm management? I haven't forgotten what I learned, and I'm sure I can get help for the rest. One of the elders in Jack's church is an agriculturalist, and he's offered to help out if we go ahead." "You've got it all worked out, haven't you?" Ron said, "But where does the church bit come into it?" "We'll have a community there, and we'll have to feed them spiritually as well as physically. We'll aim at discipling people who come to help us with the farm and the children, whether they live at the farm or not."

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Ron looked very thoughtful for a moment. "It sounds like quite a challenge, Carl," he said at last, "Don't you think you're a bit old to take on something like that?" "Ron! I'm only fifty-two!" Carl exclaimed, "Just because you're a year younger than me doesn't make me old!" "That's all right, that's all right," Ron said placatingly, "Just checking, Carl. Keep your hat on." "I won't be doing this on my own, anyway! Besides Emma there'll be Ben living with us—he's told us he'll be happy to move back in with us if it's on a farm, because there'll be plenty of room. He's got heaps of experience with farm work, too. Somsay wants to help out on the financial side of it, and Jack and Rose want to get their whole church involved, not just the elders. What I'd like to know, Ron, is whether we can count on your support." "My support?" Ron exclaimed, "What kind of support can I provide? Farming isn't exactly in my line of work." "We'll need much prayer, Ron, and we'll need advice with the legal side of things, and I expect we'll need comic relief on a regular basis, too." Ron considered this for a moment, frowning at his shoes as if something were written on them. Finally he looked up at Carl, his eyebrows raised. "Well," he said slowly, "I can certainly help with prayer and with legal advice, but I don't know about comic relief..." Carl got up and slapped him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Ron," he said heartily, "We figured we could count on you." "My pleasure, mate!" Ron said, and grinned. He was quickly serious again, however. "I'm a bit worried, though," he said, "that you folks might be taking on something that could end up being quite a burden." "We believe it's a burden the Lord wants us to take on," Carl said, "and therefore we also believe He'll provide what we need, in material terms as well as in terms of physical and mental energy and wisdom. Just as He's provided during these years of itinerant evangelism. Don't you agree?" Ron didn't answer, and Carl was taken aback to see amusement spreading on his face. Ron gazed at him with a mischievous smile for a few moments, then suddenly got up and went back to the window. He stood there with his back to Carl, and from the way his shoulders were shaking Carl got the distinct impression that his friend was laughing. He went to join him and patted him on the shoulder. "All, right," he said, "What's so funny?" Ron turned to him, a wide grin splitting his face. "I've got your farm, Carl," he said, chuckling, "You may not believe it, but I've got a farm for you and your 'extended family'. I bought it some time ago, and it's been sitting there waiting for you." Carl stared at him uncomprehendingly. "You have a farm for us?" he said, "Is this one of your jokes, mate?" Ron burst out laughing. "N-No, it's quite serious, C-Carl," he gasped between chuckles, "It's not a joke, not at all!" He went back to his armchair, sat down, and took a deep breath to calm himself. "You must be wondering why I'm finding it so amusing, aren't you?"

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Carl returned to the sofa. "I admit to being mystified," he replied as he sat down, "but I've an idea that your laughter has little to do with humour. Am I right?" "Yes! Yes!" Ron exclaimed, jumping up and clapping his hands onto Carl's shoulders, "I'm laughing out of pure joy—joy at the amazing way God works! He's done it again!" "What's He done again?" "You remember the camper? How I bought it just like that and after a while I realised it was for you?" "Of course I remember—how could I ever forget? Are you suggesting this is the same kind of thing?" "That's right! It is!" Ron was just about dancing around the room in his excitement. "While I was still President I bought a farm—and a few minutes ago I finally knew why!" "You bought a farm while you were President..." Carl said slowly. "Yes. It was the last thing I needed, of course. I had enough on my plate trying to manage the country without trying to manage a farm as well! But I knew I had to buy it—I had no peace until I decided to go ahead and do so. The months went by and I had no idea why I'd purchased what was beginning to look like a great big white elephant—until today when you told me your plans." "How can you be so sure it's for us?" Carl asked. Ron stared at him in astonishment. "You're asking me that?" he exclaimed, "You, Carl? You can't be serious?" Carl felt confused. He reddened and looked down at his hands. "Uh, no, I guess I can't be," he said quietly, "Of course I know how you can be so sure..." He looked up at Ron again. "Where is this farm?" he asked, "Is it near Apmirra?" Ron hesitated visibly before answering him. "It was government property," he said slowly, "It was put up for sale and nobody else seemed to want it, so it was going at a good price. I went out to have a look at it—yes, it's near Apmirra—and after a few days I decided to go ahead and buy it." "Is it a workable farm, then? Is it in good condition?" "Oh, yes, nothing wrong with it now, as far as I can tell. I had a couple of blokes from the Ag Min check it over and they reckoned it would be a good investment if it's used as a mixed farm. That's what you want, isn't it?" "Well, yes, it is. You know—raise a few crops, some animals, that sort of thing. It's as much to train people in useful skills as to provide food for us. As long as we can cover costs we shouldn't need much of a profit margin." Carl sat back and put his hands behind his head. "I'd often wondered over the years what was the point of that farm management training I did back then..." "Looks like it should come in handy!" Ron laughed. Carl sat up again and looked at him curiously. "You still haven't told me where this farm of yours is, Ron," he said. Ron's smile faded and his face went white. "It's the old Experimental Farm, Carl..." he said softly. 157


The colour also drained from Carl's face. "The Experimental Farm?" he whispered incredulously. He stood up abruptly and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, started pacing the room with some agitation. As he'd told Ben and Ron at the time of Emma's illness in Brown's Reef, his memories of the Experimental Farm were still chillingly clear. The atrocities that had been carried out there under the directorship of Gerard Dillmon were something he'd never been able to forget. Ben's wife and child had died there, and so had several of his counsellees, and he had some idea of how they had died. He couldn't get over it—the Experimental Farm! Why would God be wanting him to take over that property, of all places? Could it be that turning it into a loving home for those who once upon a time would have been taken to the Experimental Farm would somehow cleanse the place? He sat down again and sighed. "What shape is it in, Ron?" he asked, "I mean the paddocks, buildings, and so on." "Considering how long they've been empty and unused, they're in remarkably good shape," his friend replied, "They'll need some work, of course—renovations and so on. The house needs a fair bit of attention because it's been used by squatters on and off and they didn't exactly look after it. But overall it's in pretty good nick." Carl sat silent for a while, pondering the turn of events. "I'm astounded," he said at last, "The Farm is the last place I expected to visit again, and here it looks like I'll be living there..." "There are some awful memories attached to that place, aren't there?" Ron said quietly. "Mmmm," Carl murmured, "I suppose I ought to go and have a look at it. And I ought to take Emma out to see it, too." He clasped his hands tightly as he spoke. "The last time I was out there was in my early days as a Counsellor. Just thinking of what I saw there makes me tremble, Ron." "Uh-huh. It makes me feel sick, too," Ron said. "Lancaster himself never went there, by the way, you know." "I know. He had a weak stomach. He didn't like to be reminded of what a cold-blooded thug he was, either." "I never understood Lancaster," Carl said softly, "I was with him when he died, and I still didn't understand him. Perhaps I never will." "No, I don't think you ever will, Carl. You wouldn't be who you are if you understood people like Lancaster. You'd give up on people." He sighed and looked curiously at Carl. "How did you feel, as a new Counsellor, when you saw what went on at the Farm? If you can remember that far back, that is." "How did I feel?" Carl closed his eyes and thought back to that dark time in his life. "I was horrified. It was as if I'd stepped into someone's nightmare. I felt like vomiting." He opened his eyes and grimaced at Ron. "I also felt absolutely terrified," he went one, "I knew that if I ran foul of the system I'd most likely end up there too. I was frightened for myself." "So was I," Ron said, "It was always a possibility, under Brent Denson, that one might end up in Dillmon's hands. When I became a Christian it

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was almost a relief to know that if I was found out I'd be shot by a firing squad, not sent to the Farm." "Do you realise how close Emma came to being sent to the Farm?" "I know. Thank God things turned out the way they did." A thought suddenly occurred to Carl. "I wonder how Ben will react?" he asked. "Ben?" Ron echoed. "He said he'd happily move in with us if we move to a farm," Carl explained, "but will he feel the same way if the farm happens to be the place where his wife and child died?" "Perhaps he'll opt out?" Ron suggested. "He might," Carl replied, "and I wouldn't hold it against him." "On the other hand," Ron said, "being Ben he might throw up his hands in horror and then get to work renovating the place." "Sort of like doing Counsellor Slade's washing for him, you mean?" Carl said, grinning. "Sort of," Ron said. He frowned at Carl a moment, then he got up and went to put his hands on Carl's shoulders. He looked him in the eye. "Do me a favour, Carl," he said quietly. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Carl stared back at him. "A favour?" he asked. "Don't ever call yourself that again," Ron said fiercely, "Counsellor Slade was crucified with Christ. The person I know as a dear friend and brother in Christ is Carl Emmanuel Slade the evangelist." He released Carl and went to a drawer in his desk before Carl could say anything. He opened the drawer and pulled out a large folder of papers. "Here are all the papers for the Experimental Farm, Carl—all I could find about it. They're yours now, and the keys, too." Carl came over to the desk and started looking through the folder. "Why is all this stuff on paper?" he asked, "Why not on CD?" Ron shrugged. "Dillmon liked paper. He had very nice handwriting and he kept all his records on paper. The rest of his staff used CDs, but not Dillmon. You should have seen the mounds of paper we carried out of his house!"

! ! ! When Carl told her his news, Emma was incredulous. "The-The Experimental Farm?" she exclaimed, "That place? Ron bought it for us? He wants us to live there? Does he know Ben's family died there? Have you told Ben? Do—" "Whoa, Em!" Carl interrupted, "One question at a time! No, I haven't told Ben yet. I wanted to tell you, first." He took his wife's hand and led her into the lounge. "Sit down, Em, and let me explain," he said, "I didn't say that Ron wants us to live there. I said he bought the place sort of on a whim as it

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were, and today he realised that he'd bought it for us. In other words, it seems to me that it's God who wants us to live there." "How can you be so sure?" "How could we be sure that the camper truck was for us when Ron gave it to us?" "I see what you mean..." "Ron knows about Ben's family. He's known for years—ever since I told him about Ben moving in with us when Benjy was born." "So you think we should take it? The Experimental Farm, I mean." "Yes, I think so. Ron took me to see it and it's in quite good shape. All trace of what went on there has been removed—Ron saw to that. We can continue living in the camper while we work on making the house livable." "There's a house there? Whose house was it?" "Gerard Dillmon's. Does that worry you?" Emma thought about that for some moments. The whole idea of living at what had once been the Experimental Farm disturbed her, and the thought of living in the house of its former director was not a welcome one. "I don't like the idea of living there, Carl. I suppose I could get over my reluctance, but the idea doesn't appeal at all... You know, I've never seen the Farm." "You'd have seen it years ago if it hadn't been for Andrew Parker..." "You mean if it hadn't been for God." "Yes, but also if Andrew and his friends hadn't got us out of the country when they did." "Was it really as horrible a place as I've heard it was?" "Was it horrible? Dillmon was a ruthless man, Em," Carl answered softly, "He didn't appear to have any feelings at all. As far as he was concerned, the people taken to the Farm were just material for any experiment he cared to carry out." "I don't know that I could live there, Carl..." He took her hand and put his other arm around her. "I can understand how you feel, love," he said, "Look. I'll tell Ben about it, and then we can go out there, the three of us, and have a look at the place. If after that you still think that you can't face it, we'll have to pray some more about whether it's the right thing." "Do you think it's the right thing, Carl?" "Yes, Em, I do. But I can make mistakes, you know." "I know, but it seems to me that with things like this you rarely do, because you want to obey God." Emma squeezed her husband's hand, "You think and pray about things like this until you're quite sure of which way to head. I know that's what you've been doing, and if you think we ought to go ahead and move to the Experimental Farm, then I won't go against you, Carl. I trust you, and I trust God." Carl gazed at his wife, his blue eyes warm with his affection for her. "You're wonderful, you know, Em," he said softly, "I don't know where I'd be without you." She didn't reply but kissed him on his cheek, at which he promptly hugged her and kissed her on the mouth. He held her in his arms for a 160


moment, silently thanking God for having blessed him with Emma for his wife. She suddenly pulled away. "Do you think Ben will be happy to live at the old Experimental Farm?" she asked. "I have no idea," Carl replied, "We'll just have to wait and see what he has to say. I daresay he'll have a bit of a battle about it." "And then he'll set to work and renovate the place." Carl grinned at his wife. "You know, Em, that's exactly what Ron said to me Ben would do!" "And that's exactly what he'll do, too!" "Ben!" Emma exclaimed, jumping up, "We didn't hear you come in!" Their friend was standing by the door holding Benjamin's hand. "Benjy let me in," he chuckled, "and you two were so engrossed you didn't even hear the buzzer or see me come in. Talk about lovebirds!" He was suddenly sober. "Sorry," he said, "I couldn't help but hear what you just said. I gather that somehow you're considering taking on the old Experimental Farm. Is that right?" "That's right," Carl said. "Well," Ben said, "it seems fitting to me that we should do that and make the place a proper farm, a place where things live and grow and where people who love the Lord live. Erase the horrors of the past." "You said 'we', Ben," Emma pointed out, "Does that include you?" "You bet it does," Ben replied heartily, "I've been waiting for years for you folks to settle down so I could move back to be with you. No number of unhappy memories is going to deny me the joy of living with the Slade family again." Carl stared at him speechlessly, and Ben came over to him and patted his shoulder. "I know what you're thinking, mate," he said, "You're remembering a large pile of dirty linen, aren't you?" Carl nodded. He couldn't speak. "Uh-huh," he muttered. "Isn't life with the Lord wonderful?" Ben said happily, kissing Emma's cheek and picking up Benjy and hugging him, "God is so good, isn't He, Benjy?" "Gotisgood!" the child yelled, "Gotisgood!" "God is good," Carl whispered in awe, "He is utterly amazing."

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CHAPTER 17 When Carl and his family and Ben moved in the camper to what had once been the Experimental Farm, the first thing they did was to change the name of the place. They sat with Ron and the Winstons around the table in the camper the first evening and discussed possible names. It didn't take them long to settle for the name Ben suggested. "'Beth-El' is Hebrew for 'God's House'," Ben had explained, "and isn't that what this place will be—Beth-El Farm?" All had agreed that the Slades' and Ben's new home should be called Beth-El Farm. Ben offered to make a sign to put by the front gate if Helen and Andrew would help him, and then Benjamin would have the honour of helping to fasten it to the gatepost. The children agreed with great enthusiasm. Cleaning up the farmhouse took less time than Ron had expected, for the Slades received plenty of help from their friends. Besides Ben and the Slades, the renovation team included members of Jack's congregation, Somsay Ng's son, and even Will Newman and his family who came down from Kawanyama for two weeks. The house that had been Gerard Dillmon's home during the years of the Protectorate was a very large building, especially considering that it had housed only one person. It was a two-storey fibrewood house, built just after the founding of the Protectorate in 2026. The ground floor held a large living room, an equally large dining room, a study and library, a bathroom, a kitchen equipped with all the appliances that were standard in the Presidential Palace kitchens, a laundry, and an enclosed verandah all along the back of the house. Upstairs were six large bedrooms and three bathrooms, as well as another study and a small room lined with shelves. Under the roof was a divided loft high enough to use as extra rooms. The house was surrounded by a large garden, now overgrown with weeds and littered with rubbish dumped there by the people who had occupied the house as squatters until Ron had bought the Farm. There was a driveway down the east side of the house, with a gateway both at the front and at the back of the garden. A tall cedar graced the front of the garden where lawn should have been, and an assortment of other, smaller trees were scattered around the house. Behind the house and about twenty metres from it there was a large barn, a cement-rendered building painted dark brown, with a green tiled roof. It had two green-shuttered windows on either side and one at the back, where there was also a door painted the same colour. Its large, green double doors in front opened onto the driveway and faced a toolshed and garage across it. Just beyond the barn was the back gateway, opening onto the road which ran through between the farm and its paddocks. Beth-El Farm had some two hundred acres of paddocks and a hundred acres of fields, as well as what had once been a part of the National Forest,

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some fifty acres of pine woods. Adjacent to the house and its garden, on the western side, was a small apple orchard. Carl parked the camper in the driveway next to the house, and his family continued to live in it for the first two weeks while they cleaned up the house and did repairs. For those two weeks Ben moved back into the camper with them, to the children's delight. He proved to be invaluable as a handyman, for in his travels as a farm worker, and in building his house in Estella, he'd tried his hand, mostly successfully, at many kinds of work, including carpentry and plumbing. He'd hardly arrived in Apmirra that he drove straight out to the farm and set to work. They concentrated first on making the house livable. Its previous, unauthorised occupants had not looked after it and there was a great deal of cleaning, painting, and varnishing to do. Some of the windows were broken and needed re-glazing, and several of the light fittings had to be replaced. Once the bedrooms, kitchen, and bathrooms were ready, the Slades and Ben moved into their new home. Once they were in, they continued cleaning and fixing the rest of the house, and started cleaning up the grounds. Carl and Ben cleaned out the camper truck and parked it in the barn.

! ! ! One evening after they'd moved into the house, Carl and Emma were sitting at the table in the kitchen after tea, talking about their new venture. Ben was out, and the children were already in bed. "It's so strange living in a house again after all these years of being in the camper or the flat," Emma said, "I find myself wondering if I'll ever be able to cope with all the work involved." "Well, you've been doing a great job organising the cleaning up, Em," Carl replied, "I don't see why you should find it any harder to organise the household. And anyway, you won't be doing it all on your own, you know— I'll be around, and Helen and Andrew can help, and I'm sure Ben won't just be sitting around doing nothing." "How long do you think it'll be before we're ready to take in other children?" "I don't think we can rush that. We want to be properly ready before other children come. It's not going to be easy." "I'm aware of that. I keep trying to imagine five or six of Benjy around!" "I doubt if they'll all be like Benjy—I expect we'll find at least as much variety among them as among our own three children." "Of course, but they'll all have some level of handicap, and that will not be easy to cope with." "I know. We're going to need plenty of help. So, before we can take anyone in we need to know how much actual physical help we can count on. Ben needs a couple of helpers for the farm work. He and I have been working on planning just what we should aim at with that, and one of the first conclusions we reached was that there's too much work for two men to

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do alone. When Andrew's a little older he'll be able to pitch in as well, but until then it's just Ben and me." "I'll need help with the children and with looking after this enormous place. I can't imagine how we can keep the place clean, otherwise, besides all the other jobs that will need doing." "Well, Em, the first thing we have to do is to pray about the next steps. We need to ask the Lord for wisdom and for Him to send us the right people. This is His project and we want to do things His way." "I can trust you not to forget that aspect of it!" Emma said, smiling. "I haven't forgotten that we want to disciple folk here, as well," Carl said quietly, "We want all these people, residents, helpers, and ourselves, to grow in faith and in love for God. That's the first aim of this project." "How do you propose to carry that out?" "We'll pray together, and read and study the Bible together, and we'll look out for each other. Each of us must be answerable to the others. We're all responsible for each other." "I know that you intend to take on only strong believers as workers, because part of your aim is this discipling, but what about the families and children we're setting out to help?" Carl spoke earnestly. "We'll help anyone who needs it, Em, as far as we can," he said. "Many of the families with handicapped children don't know the Lord. Their need is even greater than that of those who do, if you think about it. My prayer is that through our helping them they'll come to know Jesus Christ." Emma smiled warmly at her husband. "That's your aim in everything you do, isn't it?" she said, "You'll never do something just for its own sake—it's got to tell people about Jesus Christ, somehow." He gazed at her seriously for a moment, then sighed deeply. "There's no point in helping other people just to ease their life, Em. You've got to give them a chance to know Jesus Christ as well. What good does it do them to have a life with a minimum of problems if in the end they die separated from God?" "What if they don't want to hear, though?" Emma asked, "Don't you help them any more, then?" Carl looked astonished. "Of course you keep helping them, Em!" he exclaimed, "We're still supposed to do good to others, even to our enemies! And what's more, you can't give up on someone just because they refuse the Gospel once—you keep the door open. While there's life there's hope. I'm surprised you, Em, of all people, asked the question." Emma smiled. "I knew the answer, Carl," she said quietly, "I just wanted to hear it again." "You wanted to hear it again? Why?" "Because I love to hear you get all enthusiastic about telling people about Jesus Christ, and I like being reminded about it by you, Carl." Carl grinned, reached across the table and took her hands. "You're a very special person, you know, Em," he said, "I'm so glad you're in all this with me." 164


! ! ! "I've got your first resident for you," Jack's voice announced to Carl over the phone, "D'you reckon you're ready for her?" "Our first resident?" Carl echoed, "I think you'd better explain, Jack." "Well, I understood that your place is a home for children with Down's," Jack replied, "Don't tell me I've had it wrong all this time!" Carl laughed. "You're quite right, Jack," he said, "That's what it is, all right. It's just that so far we've only got one child with Down's here—Benjy— so we're not quite used to the idea yet. Tell me about this person." "Her name is Megan and she's ten years old. Her father died in an accident a few months ago, and her mother is at the end of her tether. I gather Mr. Kelly was the one who used to look after Megan, mostly, so Mrs. Kelly can't really handle her. She has two other children, both younger than Megan, and she just can't cope any longer. What do you think?" "Well, how does Megan's mother feel about it?" "Her words were, 'You must be an angel from heaven!'" "Sounds like she likes the idea." "She would be forever grateful to have some relief from coping with Megan's problems, I think." "Right, Jack, we'll come over and meet them. Just tell me where." "Your place, Carl. I'll bring Megan and her mother over in the morning and you can decide if you'll take her on." "Fine. I'll let Emma and Ben know. Will Rose come along?" "I don't think so—she's on duty at the hospital tomorrow." "All right, then, Jack—see you tomorrow."

! ! ! Megan Kelly became the first new member of the Slade family five months after they had moved to the farm. She was small for her age, and chubby, and had a headful of brown curls and mischievous green eyes. She never sat still, and spent the first half hour at the farm exploring the whole house, an anxious eleven-year-old Helen trailing her to keep her out of trouble. When Megan and her mother had got out of Jack's car, Megan had immediately started picking the flowers in the border along the driveway and flinging them about. Her mother had followed her about helplessly, telling her to stop in a gentle and ineffectual voice. It was Benjamin who came to the rescue. He stood by the front door watching her for a moment, then ran over to her and took her hand. "'Ike fowers? You?" he asked. Megan was obviously taken by surprise, and pulled her hand away abruptly. "Leggo!" she cried, but she didn't move away. Instead, she stood staring at him, the last flowers she had picked hanging limply from her other hand.

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Benjamin was smiling at her, and he reached out to take her hand again. "Hello," he said, "Come play?" "Play" was apparently a word Megan understood very well, for she eagerly welcomed the suggestion. She threw away the flowers she'd been holding and ran off clumsily across the lawn in front of the house. "Play! Play!" she yelled at the top of her voice. Benjy let out a squeal of delight and ran off after her. Andrew watched them with concern. "Shall I go with them, Mummy?" he asked Emma. "It might be a good idea," Emma answered, and Andrew hurried to catch up with the two children. Helen also ran off after them. Carl and Emma invited Mrs. Kelly into the house, where they sat down with her in the living room and began to tell her about their plans for the children who would be living in the home. "Discipline is an important part of our life here," Emma explained after they'd described living arrangements and the household routine, "Carl and I believe that children need to be trained so that they'll grow up able to look after themselves and others and able to accept responsibility. For that they have to be disciplined—we can't just let them do as they please." "Megan's had such a hard life," Mrs. Kelly said, "The poor little thing has such difficulty keeping up with the others, even though they're younger than her. I feel she needs a lot more freedom than they do. The poor little thing would be so unhappy if she couldn't do what she wants." Carl recalled Megan's arrival at their house and thought to himself that Megan did not strike him as a "poor little thing", but rather as a child who'd had nothing expected of her. "We've always been very firm with Benjamin," he said, "and he knows where he stands and what we expect of him. Of course many things are difficult or impossible for him, and some things are forbidden to him, but I don't think he's unhappy. Did he look unhappy to you?" "Well, no," Megan's mother said hesitantly, "but of course he isn't as handicapped as Megan." Carl thought wryly that Megan's handicaps were not all the result of Down's syndrome, but he made no comment. "I would say that Benjy and Megan are on a level," Jack said, "from what I've seen of Megan." "She's a handful," Mrs. Kelly said, "I can't cope with her any more." "Are you happy for her to stay here, then?" Emma asked. "I'll be glad to have a break," the woman replied. "Well, that's settled, then," Carl said, "When do you want her to come?" "Oh, I assumed I'd be leaving her here today!" Mrs. Kelly exclaimed, "That's why I brought her bag." Emma and Carl were taken aback, for they hadn't anticipated this. Jack, however, had expected it, and had already decided how he would handle it for them. "There's a bit of paperwork to do, you know," he said to Mrs. Kelly, "and it's a good idea to let Megan know what's happening before you leave her here." 166


"Oh, but I couldn't bear to take her home again! I'd psyched myself up for this and it'd be too traumatic to start all over again. I've got to think of the other children too, you know. Besides, she doesn't really understand." "She can understand well enough, I'm sure," Emma said, "especially as she's seen this place now." "If this were an emergency you could leave her here now," Carl said, "but it isn't an emergency. She can't stay here today. There are a couple of forms to fill in, and they have to be taken into the Welfare Bureau office before Megan can stay. In an emergency they make exceptions, but they wouldn't in this case." "You'll fill in the forms, then I'll take you and Megan home," Jack said, "and we'll bring Megan back in a couple of days. It'll give her a chance to say goodbye to your other children, to her own home, to everything that's familiar to her." Mrs. Kelly didn't look very happy about this, but she nodded. "All right," she said, "It's Tuesday today. Can she come back Thursday?" "Friday, I think," Carl said, "Give the Welfare people time to get their part done. Megan is a first for them as well as for us."

! ! ! It took Megan several weeks to really begin to feel at home at Beth-El Farm, for she missed her mother and her brothers and sister very much. She found the firmness of the Slade family discipline something of a shock after the many years of lack of restraint that she had known at home, and she showed her dislike of it loudly and violently. Helen and Andrew did their best to try and help Megan make the adjustment, and even Benjy was on his best behaviour most of the time, for Emma and Carl had explained to them that their own example of obedience and thoughtfulness would do much to help Megan to settle in. A month after Megan's arrival two more children were added to the home, and a month after them another two came. Five extra children, all intellectually handicapped, added greatly to the workload at Beth-El Farm. "I think we should stop at five for the time being," Emma said to Carl, Ben, and Jack as they met together to discuss the situation, "Our helpers are still getting used to their roles and our own children are feeling a little overwhelmed." "I don't think they're upset about it," Carl said. "No, they're not upset," Ben agreed, "but Emma's right. They are a bit overwhelmed. Helen and Andrew completely lost patience with Benjy yesterday afternoon. It's very unusual for that to happen." "How did Benjy take it?" Carl asked. "D'you mean, what does he think of all these new children around?" Ben said. "No," Carl said, "How did he react to Helen and Andrew getting upset with him?"

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Ben laughed. "They both yelled at him, and he just looked puzzled and said, 'Why?' That stopped them in their tracks. They sort of stared at him for a moment and he just grinned. Then Andrew gave him a hug and they all went back to their game." "'Blessed are the peacemakers'," Jack quoted softly. "Where were you, Ben?" Emma asked, "How did you witness this without their being aware of you?" "At my window, upstairs," Ben replied, "They were in the garden and I just happened to be watching when all this happened." "Benjy has a welcome ability to defuse tense situations," Emma said, "It makes up for all his not-so-positive problems." "Megan does not have that ability," Ben said, "At least, not yet." "I'd say she hasn't!" Carl exclaimed, "That girl has a propensity for making situations tense at the drop of a hat!" "She's improved a great deal, Carl," Emma said, "She's been trying hard to control her temper." "I know," Carl said, "You're doing a great job with her, Em." "It's not just me," Emma said, "It's everybody who's been helping her, including you." "Excuse my changing the subject," Jack said quietly, "but there's something else I would like to point out which you need to be aware of. There's a petition before Parliament to, as its compilers wrote it, 'put a stop to the proliferation of defective human beings and special services for them'. I don't know if you've heard about this." "We have," Emma said, giving Carl an anxious glance. Carl grimaced. "We were informed most courteously by the compilers," he said, "They sent us a copy of the bill." "They underlined certain parts in red," Ben said, "and added marginal notes." "Oh?" Jack said. "The notes were along the lines of 'This means you'," Emma explained, "only stronger." "Did they send a letter with it?" Jack asked. "Just a note that said the enclosed might interest us," Carl replied, "signed by their leader." "There are people around who don't like what we're doing," Ben said. "There always have been people like that, of course," Jack observed, "It's nothing new. There have always been those who hate people who are different—handicapped, of a different race, or whatever." "That's true," Carl said, "I ought to know—I used to be one of them, after all." "That was a long time ago," Emma said, "Before you met Jesus." Jack cocked his head and looked thoughtfully at his brother-in-law. "I don't think you ever were really like that," he said, "You tried to be, because you had to if you wanted to keep in the Protection's good books, but I have a feeling it wasn't really the way you felt. Am I right?"

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Carl frowned at the table. "I didn't have a problem with people of different races," he said, "My best friend was a black man, after all—Andrew Parker. But maybe you're right. I'm not sure. I do remember wondering at one time why handicapped people had to be taken to the Experimental Farm—they didn't seem to me to be a danger to the country the way the so-called 'Crooked Thinkers' were said to be. I didn't dare tell anyone that, of course." "I was directly involved with sending them to the Farm," Ben said quietly. "Here," Emma said, "This place." She looked at each of them earnestly. "We can't let those people intimidate us," she said, "Beth-El Farm will continue. Those people can't win, because the children's parents won't let them. And we won't let them. We'll continue our children's home, and we'll erase the memory of the Experimental Farm from this place." "By the grace of God," Carl said.

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CHAPTER 18 Two years later the Slades and their extended family were celebrating the anniversary of their move to the Farm. In those two years and the five preceding them they had seen the society around them slowly changing back to the patterns which had been the norm in the years preceding the Protectorate. The changes had not taken place as rapidly as many people expected them to, for there was still a very strong Christian element in the countries of Asia even so many decades following the Great Revival of 2008. When the Protectorate had fallen in 2036 the churches in the new Federation had for the most part remained strong after an initial backslide. The headiness of sudden freedom had rendered some of them incautious and they had fallen prey to false teaching, but thankfully there were enough people like Carl Slade and his brother-in-law, Jack Winston, who were able to set the believers back on track. For several years the churches grew both spiritually and numerically, and society for the most part welcomed the role of peacemakers held by the Christians. Sadly, this trend was slowly and subtly sidetracked as continued freedom encouraged the believers to relax more and more. Buildings, expensive programmes, and reputations became more important than reaching out to those who did not know Christ. Money was spent on establishing personal kingdoms rather than on alleviating the suffering of others. Prosperity, success, health, happiness, and thrills became the goals of far too many who professed the name of Jesus Christ. Two months after the anniversary celebration, Carl and Emma sat in the swing seat in the front garden of the farmhouse one morning just after dawn, talking about the downward trend they were seeing in the churches around Apmirra. Jack had been hospitalised after a stroke a few days before and his little congregation—for it had always remained small, dividing up whenever the total number of members reached over fifty—was in danger of being split by a continuing, heated argument over who was to succeed him if he didn't make it. "They're carrying on as if God didn't exist—as if the Holy Spirit has no say in the matter!" Emma exclaimed, "Fancy that man Dave Heathrow telling Rose she needn't worry, if Jack died he'd make sure the right man took over! How did he think that made Rose feel?" "We know how it made her feel," Carl said quietly, "What amazes me is how she told us about it." "Rose is like that. She always thinks of others first, always looks for some reason for their thoughtlessness... But who does Dave Heathrow think he is—God?" Carl took his wife's hand in his. "He's probably not thinking clearly," he said, "He's probably afraid that Jack will die, like the rest of us are." He sighed deeply. "I hope Jack pulls through..." he said softly.

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Emma knew how close her husband was to her brother. "I hope so too," she said, squeezing his hand, "But even if he does, you know, he probably won't be able to pastor his church any more. He may not even be able to talk. It was a pretty bad stroke." "Jack's my closest friend, Em," Carl said, a catch in his voice, "Apart from you and Andrew Parker, no-one else has ever been as close to me as your brother is. Henry and Ben and Ron are very dear friends, but it's not quite the same kind of relationship. I guess it's true—I'm frightened he might die. I'd miss him horribly." She was quiet a moment, holding his hand against her cheek. "Carl," she said softly, "He may well die, you know. That was a massive stroke he had. I'm afraid he might die too—Jack's always been a very special brother." She snuggled against him and hugged him. "Do you remember back when you were about to go to Densonia and we had those awful dreams?" "How could I ever forget that, Em?" "Well, do you remember what you told me then?" "About what?" "About if you didn't come back." "What did I say?" "You told me that there had never been any guarantee you'd come back from any trip, not even one just down to the paddocks. You said I'd have to be very brave and trust God unconditionally—for your sake and for the children's sake. Remember?" "Yes, I remember saying something like that. Is that why you're reminding me—so that I'll be brave for Jack and Rose's sake?" "And mine. And I'll try to be brave too, Carl. If Jack dies it'll hurt an awful lot, but we'll have to remember that for him it will be the most wonderful thing—he'll be with Jesus." "That's true, of course—both things are true. You know, Em, Jack said to me once that he longed for heaven, for that place where never again will anyone turn from God; never again will anyone hate, envy, irritate, slander, or do anything evil against someone else; never again will there be pain, sadness, despair, sickness, injury, or perversion. He said he longed to become the man Christ was making him into and to be like that, always pleasing to God, forever and ever. And then he was quiet, and he just smiled at me, and then after a moment he said that he didn't want it to happen even a nanosecond earlier than God planned for it to happen. He said he was happy to wait for the exact time God had chosen, because that had to be the only right time for him to die. We'd been talking about death, you see." "When was that?" "When Uncle Chester died—years ago—but I've never forgotten Jack's words. He said, too, that it had been just the right time for Uncle Chester to die. Do you remember his last words?" "Uncle Chester's?" "Mmmm."

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"Something like, 'Thank You—I see now how every step was necessary'. I guess he was talking to God, because he wasn't looking at any of us." "He was looking at the window, if I recall rightly." "That's right. But how did we get onto the topic of Uncle Chester?" "We were talking about Jack's maybe dying." "Oh, gosh, Carl, I hope he doesn't—I'm frightened of what would happen to his church." "If God's decided it's time for Jack to go home there isn't much we can do to stop him," Carl said, "And might I point out that Jack would be the first one to remind you that it isn't his church, it's God's." "That's true," Emma agreed, "but look at what's going on there! They're at each other's throats!" "It's pretty awful," Carl said, "but we have to keep in mind that not everyone's involved. There's still that little group who want to do things God's way." "Ted's someone we can count on, isn't he?" "Him and his wife, both. And Scott." "Yes, that boy is certainly a credit to his parents." "He's a true man of God. If he were a bit older I'd ask the Lord to make him our pastor." "Do you remember when he was fifteen or sixteen and involved with that gang?" Emma asked, "and Anne was wondering where she and Ted'd gone wrong?" Carl smiled. "That was a rough patch for young Scott," he said, "That was when he came to the crossroads and had to make up his mind which way he'd go, wasn't it?" "And he chose the right way," Emma said, squeezing his hand again, "Isn't it funny how it happened as a result of his getting to know Benjy? I was so taken aback when you suggested he take Benjy out for a couple of hours each week!" "I admit to feeling apprehensive about letting him do that, but I was quite sure it was the right thing. Benjy's good at pointing people to Jesus. He may not be able to read or count, and his coordination may be up the creek, but his faith is a constant challenge to me." "And to me. He's a very special boy. It's a privilege to be his mother." Carl laughed. "I'll remind you of that statement next time he breaks one of your favourite dishes, Em!" Emma giggled. "Well, he has his moments..." Carl put his arm around her shoulders and they sat there for a while, with the seat swinging gently, pondering all they'd talked about. Emma suddenly jumped up, startling her husband. "What's the matter, Em?" he asked. "I've just remembered, Carl," she said, "When Andrew came home yesterday he showed me something rather disturbing. I'd forgotten all about it, what with Jack's condition and that fight at the church last night and all." She motioned to him to get up. "You'd better come and see this."

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She led him along the driveway towards the barn and went on past it, stopping at the gateway. There she turned around to face the barn, and Carl followed her example. "Look," she said, and pointed to the side of the barn. Someone had painted a slogan in huge orange and purple letters across the barn wall. Straighten out the crooked ones, it proclaimed. Carl stared at the words in horror. He knew very well what they referred to, and he knew who was responsible for the sign. "The Protection," he whispered, "It's well and truly back." "Those are their colours, aren't they?" Emma said, "I remember that slogan, too, from before Denson's time, even." She turned to him. "They mean our children, don't they?" "They mean our children, all of them," he agreed, "and they mean us, too. Anyone who doesn't fit in with them." "Should we tell the police, d'you think?" "I don't know... I think I'll give Ron a ring and ask for his advice. I'd like to paint over that, too, as soon as possible, but I expect Ron'd want to see it, first. Let's go back to the house." They walked to the back door and went through the kitchen and the living room to the study. Carl went over to the desk and picked up the phone. He was about to tap in the number when the doorbell rang. Running footsteps in the hallway informed him that one of the children, probably Benjy, from the rhythm, was going to open the door. Emma headed towards the hallway. "I'll go see who it is," she said. "I'll wait," Carl replied. A moment later she and Benjy ushered Ron himself into the study. Emma thanked Benjy and told him to go back to breakfast, and she closed the door behind him as he left. "'Morning, Carl," Ron said, giving him a hug, then sitting down on the sofa. "I came in through the back gate, so I saw the production on the barn. Not exactly my idea of art, I'm afraid. Whose idea was it?" "You tell me," Carl said, "Emma only just showed it to me, about ten minutes ago." "Andrew came home from school yesterday afternoon and found it," Emma explained, "It hadn't been there at lunchtime when I came back from town." "So someone painted it on sometime yesterday afternoon," Ron said, "Interesting." "I'd like to get rid of it as quickly as possible," Carl said, "How long do you need to have it there for your investigation?" Ron turned to him, frowning. "Were you expecting me to investigate it?" he asked, "It won't be necessary. I know who's responsible." "Do you?" Carl said, "So who do you think it is?" "The New Protectioners," Ron said, "They've made no secret of the fact that they've been 'decorating' various places they object to. That's why I'm here. They actually sent me a message informing me of their latest exhibition." "They have some nerve!" Emma exclaimed. 173


Carl's face had gone very pale, and he had sat down heavily on the sofa. "This must be a nightmare," he said softly, "Surely it can only be a nightmare—it isn't really happening." "It's real, Carl," Ron said grimly, "The Protection is back and the only difference from the old lot is that there's no longer any subtlety about them. Your children aren't safe anymore, Carl. Early this morning—three o'clock, in fact—we received an urgent message from Brown's Reef. Frank Helms' home for handicapped youngsters was broken into. Everyone in the house was asleep, but Frank must have been awakened by a noise, and he got up to investigate. He found a man in his office, going through his compufiler. The man was wearing a bright purple jacket with orange trim. He'd painted that slogan—like the one on your barn—on the wall in the lounge and thrown the rest of the paint all over the furniture and floor. Frank lost no time. He went out to the kitchen as quietly as he could and pressed the alarm button we'd installed there. Within five minutes the police were there and they managed to apprehend the man. Frank then telephoned me to let me know about the incident and to ask me to warn you." "You'd installed an alarm at Frank's place?" Carl asked, "What made you do that?" "A few incidents in Brown's Reef in the last couple of months," Ron replied, "Break-ins, mostly, and attempted break-ins, including one at Frank's." "You think they were all the work of the New Protectioners?" Emma asked. "No, not all of them, but some of them definitely were. They left their mark, like they did at Frank's and here." "It sounds like they're really gaining strength, then," Carl said, "or at least, gaining confidence." "But surely they won't last long," Emma said hopefully, "They can't have much support in the community." Ron looked at her gravely. "I wish I could agree with you," he said quietly, "but I can't. The fact is that support for the New Protectioners is growing every day." "But how can that be? Surely people can see they're up to no good!" "It depends on your point of view—" "That's right," Carl said, "Just like at the turn of the century, when the old Protection Party was increasing in power... D'you remember the fuss about people from non-Anglo-Saxon backgrounds? D'you remember how most of them ended up leaving the Republic? D'you remember why?" "You're right," Emma said, "The Protectioners had plenty of support. They said all the crimes, all the social problems, all the economic problems, were the fault of those people..." "And then, when they'd got rid of them," Ron added, "they turned on the handicapped. They claimed that all those people did was to bleed society dry without putting anything back. They were very clever, too. Even some of the handicapped supported them." "Then when Brent Denson took over..." Carl said. 174


"He got rid of them all," Emma finished, "as Ben's reminded us more than once." She stared out of the window a moment, then turned back to Ron. "And you say that the same thing is happening today?" Ron nodded slowly. "That's right," he said, "Incredible as it may seem." Carl took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What will it take for people to remember where such folly ends?" he said, "Why do they forget so easily?" "You know why," Ron said, "Most people think only of their own needs and wants first. It's easy to sway them when they spend all their waking hours complaining about the way things are. Denson was well aware of that and he offered people everything they wanted. Once he was in power, though, they found out the truth and it wasn't pretty." "Even then, they still thought only of their own comfort," Carl said, "At least, most of them did. Folk like Emma and the other believers didn't, of course, and they suffered for it. People like me, though—" "Or like me," Ron put in. "Mmmm. We were looking out for Number One, weren't we?" Carl continued, "We were happy to fit in with whatever would keep us safe..." "It's so easy to go that way if you have no firm anchor to your life, isn't it?" Emma asked rhetorically, "When you have no absolutes to guide you, when God isn't your reason for living." "Even when you do," Carl said, "You have to be ever so careful that you don't slip away, as Ben could remind us." "Well," Ron said, "we could spend all day philosophising about it, but it won't get us anywhere and it won't help to get rid of the problem." "So what shall we do, then?" Emma asked. "First—did you check inside the barn? Any damage there?" "Yes," Emma said, "Andrew went in to check the camper right away. The barn door was still locked, and everything inside seemed to be all right." "Good," Ron said, "Now, about protecting your family. I think we should enlist the help of Jack's church, get them to—" Carl interrupted him. "Uh, Jack's church is in a bit of a muddle at the moment," he said slowly. "I don't know that they'd be much help..." Emma added. "Why not?" Ron asked. Carl looked down at the floor, as if looking for an answer there. "Well, after Jack's stroke, they're suddenly fighting about who'll succeed him..." he said sadly. "Fighting?" Ron echoed incredulously, "Those people are fighting? Jack's peaceful flock?" "I think they're frightened," Emma said, "Jack seemed to be in the best of health, after all, and his stroke was quite a shock to everyone." Ron frowned without saying anything for some moments, then he walked over to the window and stared out at the garden. "Have any new people joined Jack's church in the last few weeks?" he asked suddenly, without turning around. "New people?" Carl said, "Only one, recently. Why?"

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Ron turned from the window and frowned at him. "Who?" he asked, without answering him. Carl was taken aback by Ron's apparent earnestness. "Who?" he repeated, "Uh, David Heathrow. He started coming along about three, four months ago." "He's fairly new in Apmirra, and he lives in Jack's neighbourhood," Emma explained, "so he was happy to find a group of believers nearby that he could meet with." "How old is he?" Ron asked. "Mid-thirties?" Carl suggested, and Emma nodded. "Around thirty-five or so," she said. "Is he married?" "Not as far as anyone knows," Carl replied, "He lives in a house by himself, two streets away from Jack's place." "Have you got to know him?" "Not all that well," Emma said, "We don't go to the meetings at Jack's place very often, because of our own meetings out here." "Of course," Ron said, "Well, then—has Jack ever said anything to you about him?" "About Dave?" Carl said, "A few things. Yes, actually, he mentioned once that Dave was just a little too zealous for his liking, that he hoped the man would settle down or he'd frighten folk away from Jesus Christ instead of leading them to Him." "What kind of work does this Dave Heathrow do?" Ron asked. "He's a public servant of some sort, I think," Emma said, "He works somewhere downtown, in one of the government departments." "Do you know which one?" "No, I don't," Emma replied, "Do you, Carl?" "He's never mentioned his work to me," Carl said, "I have no idea what he does." Ron looked from one to the other and nodded. "Can you remember any other remarks Jack—or anyone else, for that matter—might have made about him?" he asked. "Oh, dear," Emma said, "Anne made a comment once about being tired of people who complain all the time. I got the impression she was referring to Dave, but I can't be a hundred percent sure." "Anne?" "Ted's Anne—Anne Mercer. Scott's mother." "Ah. What would have made her say that, which caused you to think she meant Dave Heathrow?" "Well, Dave had just been making suggestions about 'improving the church's evangelistic efforts', as he put it," Emma explained, "only he'd said it in such a negative way that it sounded more like criticism. He seems to do that a fair bit, from what Jack's said. That's when Anne said that to me—a few minutes later, when we'd gone out to the kitchen to get something." "Hmmm," Ron murmured, and turned back to the view from the window.

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Carl sat down on the corner of his desk. "What are you thinking?" he asked Ron. He didn't answer right away, but took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he turned to Carl and frowned again. "Actually," he said gravely, "I was wondering what you might be having for breakfast this morning." Emma had been anxiously reviewing in her mind the incidents involving Dave Heathrow that until then had not seemed disturbing, and the sudden change to such a mundane topic was too much for her. She stared openmouthed at Ron for a second, and then burst out laughing. "Oh, Ron," she exclaimed, "You're terrible!" "The man only ever thinks of his stomach," Carl muttered, pushing his hands into his pockets and turning his back on Ron, "Breakfast, indeed." Ron patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I heard your stomach growling," he said, "That's what reminded me I hadn't had breakfast yet." Carl looked at Emma and raised his eyebrows. "He's hearing things, Em," he said, "Sounds to me like he hasn't eaten for some time. What do you suggest?" "A light, bland diet to start with," she said thoughtfully, "Rice gruel and flat lemonade with a bit of salt in it—we must treat his stomach gently to start with." Ron's eyes went wide and he pointed at Carl with his chin. "Is he getting the same treatment?" he asked Emma. "Oh, no," she said, "He's getting bacon, eggs, tomatoes, toast, marmalade, coffee, and passionfruit juice, as usual. He's not been hearing things." Carl slapped Ron on the back. "Come on, mate," he said, "Out to the dining room with you! Just this once we'll have mercy on you and let you have the same as me. Too bad if your stomach rebels." "But I don't like passionfruit juice," Ron said. "That's just too bad," Emma said, "You'll have to have orange juice instead."

! ! ! "Ron seems to think Dave Heathrow might have something to do with what's happening in Jack's church, doesn't he?" Emma remarked later that morning as Carl and she drove into Apmirra to visit Jack. "He certainly made me think more carefully about Dave's behaviour," Carl said, "and I admit that there are several worrying aspects to it." "Such as?" "Such as the way he reacted to Benjy the first time he met him." "I wasn't there, but I do remember your saying something about that back then. Something to the effect that Dave didn't seem ever to have encountered someone like Benjy and didn't seem to know how to relate to him."

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"Yes, and at the time it struck me that I didn't like the way Dave had looked at Benjy, and that after that first meeting Benjy avoided Dave like the plague." "You hadn't told me that. It's not like Benjy to avoid people. If anything, he's too friendly with everyone." "Not with Dave Heathrow. I hadn't mentioned it to you because I thought it might just be a passing thing. I hadn't really thought about it any more until we went to Rose's last night with him and Dave was there with some of the others. Didn't you notice how Benjy disappeared into Simeon's room as soon as we arrived?" "Yes, but I was rather upset and I didn't pursue it, because of the state the others were in. Do you think it was because of Dave's being there?" "I have no doubt about it now. Benjy was about to go and give Rose his usual bearhug—you know how he looks like he's about to dive at someone— and then he caught sight of Dave. I was a bit surprised, but like you I was distracted by the others, and I didn't think further about it. He took one look at Dave and bolted. When we were leaving and I went to get him he was in Simeon's room, sitting in the old rocking chair, just rocking and singing to himself." "Did Dave notice when he ran off?" "I have no idea. He didn't seem to, but then I wasn't asking myself the question at that time." "Oh, dear," Emma said, "This is worrying, isn't it? Do you think Ron might be right?" "About what?" Carl asked. "About Dave being the cause of the fighting," she replied. "Ron never said that," he pointed out. "He didn't need to. It was obvious that's what he was thinking." "I guess so. And I guess he might just be onto something." Carl was silent for quite some time, and Emma didn't say anything more as they approached Apmirra Hospital and her thoughts turned to Jack and Rose. They parked the car and climbed out, and Carl took her hand as they walked towards the building. "Did you notice that Dave's car was in the carpark?" Emma said, "D'you think he's also visiting Jack?" "I didn't see his car, no," Carl replied, "but I suppose it wouldn't be a surprise to meet him up there. Jack's allowed visitors other than his family now." They went into the building and headed towards the lifts. Before they reached the lifts, Emma stopped and pulled on his hand for him to stop too. "Carl," she said, "I'm afraid our talk with Ron has coloured my view of Dave. I don't want to behave differently towards him than I have so far. After all, it's all speculation. D'you think we could pray about it before we go up there?" "Of course, Em," he said, "You're right. My view of him's changed too, but it wouldn't be fair to him to suddenly have changed. Besides, if by any

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chance our suspicions are correct, to behave differently would put him on his guard." They held each other's hands and closed their eyes to pray briefly for wisdom and for the ability to behave normally no matter who might be visiting Jack, then they took the lift up to the floor to which Jack had been moved from the Intensive Care ward. As they approached Jack's room, they could hear several voices talking at once, quite heatedly, and they quickened their steps in apprehension. Surely there couldn't be a fight going on in a sick man's room! "Please," Rose's voice said as they reached the door, "Can't you see you're getting Jack upset?" The harsh voices stopped suddenly, just as Carl and Emma stepped into the room. Rose saw them right away and hurried to them. "Carl, Em," she exclaimed, "I'm so glad you're here! Come and straighten these people out, please." Emma was dismayed to find her sister-in-law so distressed. "What's the matter?" she asked, taking Rose's arm, "What was all the yelling about?" Carl glanced around the room and counted four men—including Ted Mercer and David Heathrow—from Jack's church, and a woman he didn't know, standing at the foot of Jack's bed. He nodded to them and walked straight over to greet his brother-in-law. The back of the bed was raised slightly and Jack was lying in a halfsitting position, supported by several pillows. He was almost completely paralysed down his left side and considerably weakened on the right side of his body. His round face looked lopsided because of his inability to use the muscles on the left side of it. His left eyelid drooped, almost covering his eye, and the left side of his mouth was completely relaxed so that when he tried to smile it looked like he was smirking instead. Carl sat down on the edge of Jack's bed and took hold of his unaffected hand. "How are you doing, Jack?" he asked quietly. Jack's mouth moved slightly and he made a sound, but he was still unable to speak intelligibly. Carl was relieved when he squeezed his hand and winked his right eye instead. "Hanging in there with the Lord as always, aren't you?" he said to Jack, and grinned. Jack squeezed his hand again and attempted a smile. Emma came over to the bedside and kissed her brother's cheek. "Hello, Jack," she said, "It's good to see you out of the IC. You're improving by leaps and bounds, aren't you?" Jack grunted and squeezed Carl's hand again. Carl looked up at his wife and smiled. "Tell him how he's improved or he'll think you're just being nice," he said. "You're moving your right eye and the right side of your mouth quite a bit more than when I saw you yesterday," she said to Jack. "That's true," Carl said, "and you've got more strength in your hand, too." Jack squeezed his hand as hard as he could, which wasn't all that hard, and Carl grinned at him. "Keep it up, mate," he said, "We want you back in action in record time." 179


"Have they started physiotherapy in earnest yet?" Emma asked. Jack managed a half-nod and something approximating "Yes". Rose had come to Emma's side and had heard her question. "They've been torturing the poor man," she said, "I was here for his session this morning, and the physiotherapist really put him to work. She showed me how I can help him, too." Carl gave Jack a mischievous look and rubbed his hands together. "Aha," he said, "I'll get her to teach me how to help him, too, then I can get my own back." "You mean for when Jack helped you with your exercises after you were shot, back in thirty-seven?" Rose asked. "That's right," he said, and this time he squeezed Jack's hand. Emma patted his shoulder and motioned to him to move away. "Time for you to leave my brother alone, you big bully," she said, "May I sit down, please?" Carl stood up and gave her a kiss. "By all means," he said. Then he turned to Rose and grinned. "I know what you'll have to help him with, Rose. Only you can do it, what's more." "What's that?" Rose asked suspiciously. "Kissing," he said, "and I'm sure Jack won't object." He turned to Jack and winked, and saw that Jack had the nearest thing he could have to a wide grin on his face. "Oh, Carl!" Rose exclaimed, "You are incorrigible!" "'Incurably romantic' is what I've been called," he said happily, "and I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you, Rose, but I couldn't help it. It's so good to see Jack on the mend." He bent down and patted Jack's shoulder. "Keep it up, brother," he said, "and now I'll deal with these boisterous sheep of yours." He looked towards the other visitors, who had been standing selfconsciously at the other end of the room, watching Carl and Emma with their in-laws. He noticed that the woman and David Heathrow had left. "Good afternoon, all," he said, "You seem to have a problem, from what I heard just before coming in the room. Anything I can do to help?" Ted Mercer shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "I don't know what got into us, Carl," he said quietly, "We had the most ridiculous argument." "What about?" Carl asked. "I'm not sure," Ted said, "That's the stupid thing about it." "Who started it?" One of the other men, Gary, shrugged. "Does is matter?" he asked, "It was stupid, no matter who started it." "You people were not in the habit of having stupid arguments until very recently," Carl said. The third man, whose name was Michael, frowned. "You have a point," he said, "We've had our misunderstandings before, but nothing like what's been going on lately." "Well, Jack hasn't been ill before, either, Mike," Gary said.

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"But he has been away before and nothing like this has ever happened then," Ted pointed out. "So—what's the new factor, then?" Carl asked. "The new factor?" Ted asked. The three men looked at each other and back at Carl. Gary shrugged again. "Only new factor I can think of is David Heathrow," he said.

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CHAPTER 19 The team of volunteers from Jack's church for the following month arrived in David Heathrow's car. The man himself was at the wheel, and seated in the front passenger seat was the woman Emma and Carl had seen at the hospital. The other three people—including Scott Mercer, who was on holidays from his studies for the month—were in the back seat. Benjy was in the front garden, swinging on the swingseat with eight-yearold Rasesh, another of the Beth-El residents, when the car drove in the gate. He ran to see who had arrived, but when he saw David Heathrow get out of the driver's door he stopped abruptly. Rasesh ran into him and the two boys tumbled to the ground. Benjy, however, didn't stop there, but wriggled away, got to his feet, and raced off to the other side of the house. Rasesh got up more slowly and by the time he'd regained his balance the new arrivals had gone into the house. Andrew was busy watering the garden on the western side of the house when Benjy came running around the corner, looking terrified, and ran straight into him. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" Andrew yelled as he picked himself up from the ground and retrieved the hose, "What's the matter with you?" "Runaway, Andoo, runaway!" Benjy cried, "Scared!" Andrew helped him up and brushed the dirt off him. "What're you scared of?" he asked. "Man," Benjy said, pointing towards the front of the house, "In car." Andrew went to turn off the water tap, and he wound the hose back onto its reel. "Come and show me," he said, taking Benjy's hand and heading towards the front garden. Benjy dug his heels in and refused to follow. "Scared," he repeated. "Oh, come on, Benjy," Andrew scolded, "I'll be with you!" His younger brother considered this a moment. "Okay," he said at last, but he tightened his hold on Andrew's hand. Slowly they went around the house, past the swingseat, and through the garden. They walked towards the car stopped on the driveway. "That's Mr. Heathrow's car," Andrew said, "He must've brought the people who're going to work here today." "Scared," Benjy said, pulling hard on Andrew's hand, "Runaway!" "Are you scared of Mr. Heathrow?" Andrew asked in surprise. "Yeth, yeth," Benjy said, pulling at his hand even more urgently. At that moment Carl came to the front door and looked around. "Andrew! Benjy!" he called, "Come inside and have breakfast!" Benjy's eyes went wide and he wet his pants. Andrew stared at him. "Boy, you really are scared, aren't you?" he said. He turned towards the house. "Dad!" he called, "We're over here! By the car!" Carl caught the note of urgency and hurried over to the two boys. "What's the matter?" he asked.

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"Benjy's wet himself, Dad," Andrew said anxiously, "He never wets himself! He's really scared, Dad. He says he's scared of Mr. Heathrow." "Mr. Heathrow's in the dining room, having breakfast, so you needn't worry, Benjy," Carl said. He crouched down next to his youngest, who was crying. "Benjy, are you frightened by Mr. Heathrow?" he asked. "Y-Yeth," the boy sniffed, "Scared." "Has Mr. Heathrow hurt you, Benjy?" Carl asked. "Eat me, Daddy," Benjy said, "Misser'thow eat me." Benjy's answer wasn't exactly helpful, and Carl decided that the best thing to do was to get him calmed down, cleaned up, and fed. Then perhaps he could find out what was going on. "Andrew," he said, standing up, "I'll take Benjy inside by the back door and into the downstairs bathroom. You go upstairs and get him some clean clothes and bring them to me, then you can go and have breakfast." Andrew ran to the front door and went inside, while Carl took Benjy to the back of the house. After about five minutes Andrew was knocking urgently at the door of the bathroom next to the kitchen. "I've got Benjy's clothes, Dad," he called through the door, "Open up." "Door's open," Carl replied, "Bring them in." Andrew hurried in and slammed the door shut and locked it. Carl was busy drying Benjy with a towel after having washed him, and he glanced, frowning, at Andrew. "You don't need to slam—" he started to say, then stopped in surprise, for his son was quite pale. "Are you all right?" he asked. "There was a strange lady upstairs," Andrew said, "I've never seen her before. She came out of yours and Mum's bedroom." Carl stopped drying Benjy and stared at Andrew speechlessly for a moment. "She came out of our room?" he asked at last. "That's right, Dad, and she didn't see me right away, and when she did she looked really angry for a second, and then suddenly she put on this big smile and she said, 'Hello, what's your name'?" "Did you answer her?" Andrew blushed. "I said, 'Andoo', like Benjy says it, Dad," he replied softly, "And I pointed to your door and I said, 'Mummyswoom'." Carl smiled despite the seriousness of the situation. "What did she say to that?" he asked. "She thought I was one of the other children. She came and patted me on the head and said your room's nice but she was looking for the bathroom. I showed her the pink bathroom and she went in there, and I went into your room and I waited with the door opened just a tiny crack, and she came out of there almost right away and went downstairs. Then I looked around your room but I couldn't see what she'd been doing there..." "That's all right, Andrew," Carl said, and handed him the towel, "If you could just finish getting Benjy dressed, I'll go up and have a look myself." "What do we do when he's dressed, Dad?" "Take him into the kitchen and you two have some breakfast in there." Carl left the bathroom and made his way upstairs as quietly as possible. He went into his bedroom, closed the door carefully, and stood with his back 183


to it, wondering what he should be looking for. Silently he prayed for wisdom and discernment. Lord, he prayed, You know what that woman was doing in here. Please show me what it was, what I should look for. Slowly he looked around the room, starting from the corner on his left and sweeping around to the corner on his right, and back again. He did this at floor level, at waist level, and higher up. The door was centred in the wall facing the window with its light green curtains with the wattle blossom pattern. In the corner to the left of the door was an armchair, upholstered in dark green, and along the wall on the left was a large built-in wardrobe which extended from floor to ceiling. Facing the wardrobe, with its headboard against the right-hand wall, was Carl and Emma's bed, covered with a dark green bedspread and flanked by two bedside tables with a lamp on each one. To the right of the door was a chest of drawers with an adjustable mirror hung on the wall above it. The floor had cream-coloured wall-to-wall carpeting. As far as Carl could tell, nothing was different. He looked around a second time. This time he did notice something different—the angle of the mirror over the chest of drawers. He went over to it and immediately knew that the mirror had been moved, for he couldn't see his face in it. Someone— presumably the woman Andrew had seen coming out of the room—had adjusted its position. He was about to put his hand out to move it back when he thought better of it. He went back to the door, went out, and locked the bedroom door behind him. Then he quietly went downstairs and into his study. He was hardly through the door when he caught sight of something which hadn't been there earlier that morning. In the middle of the floor, twinkling in the sunlight filtering through the grevillea bush outside the study window, was a silver button. He bent down and picked it up. He'd seen such a button that morning—on Scott Mercer's shirt. Pocketing the button, he looked around his study as he had done in his bedroom. Everything seemed to be in its right place. He went to the phone and pressed out Ron Velasquez's number.

! ! ! Ron stood with his hands clasped behind his back, facing the group of people gathered in the Slades' living room. Carl and Emma, Ben—on crutches after breaking his leg by tripping over a spade left on the ground near the shed—and the five members of the new volunteer team stood in line in the middle of the living room, waiting to hear Ron's conclusions. "There have been some strange goings-on in this house today," he said, "and the sooner we have some answers to a few questions that have come to my mind, the better." He glanced at Carl and continued. "Firstly," he said, "I want the names of the five adults who arrived this morning in that car out there." He pointed to Scott. "We'll start with you."

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"You know me," the young man protested, "I'm Scott Mercer." "Right," Ron said, "Yes, I know you—which is more than I can say for the person next to you." "David Heathrow," the heavyset, brown-haired man with a trim mustache and goatee said in a deep voice. He looked bored, though the tone of his voice betrayed some feeling of annoyance. He wore a plain blue sports shirt and dark navy trousers. The purple-and-orange emblem on a chain around his neck had not escaped Ron's notice when it had slipped out of his collar at one point as Heathrow had dropped his pen and had bent down to pick it up. Heathrow had quickly replaced the chain under his shirt, but with careful movements that had not attracted attention. Ron continued his questioning. "And the young lady with you?" he asked, turning to the woman Andrew had met upstairs. "Marion Lester," she answered. She was an elegant blonde with hazel eyes, in her mid-thirties, and appeared very self-confident. She was dressed in a fashionable loose, sleeveless, lilac-coloured blouse over flowing violet, calf-length culottes. Ron had been quick to notice the tiny purple and orange beads decorating the watchband on her left wrist, but he'd made no comment. Ron turned to the nervous-looking young man and woman standing next to Emma. "What about you two?" he asked, "And yes, I know who you are, but just tell us your names anyway." "Jessica Huddlestone," the young woman said. "Dave Marks," her companion told Ron, and added anxiously, "Mr. Mercer asked for volunteers to help out here this month. That's why we're here." "Yes, and I know you, Jessica, and Scott have been here before," Ron said, "However, there are still some things that need clearing up. My next question is—what were you doing in the study, Scott? That room is out of bounds without Carl's permission." "I let him use the phone," Emma said quickly, glancing at Carl next to her. "I needed to ask Mum to come and pick us up today," Scott explained, "because Mr. Heathrow told me he'd have to leave early and we'd have to find our own way home." "Mmmm," Ron muttered, "Right. Here—you might like to sew this back onto your shirt." He handed him the silver button Carl had found in the study, and the young man reddened. "Next question." Ron turned and looked Marion Lester in the eye. "What were you doing in Carl and Emma's room, Miss Lester?" he asked. "Oh, I was looking for the bathroom," the woman said without hesitation, "I opened the wrong door. A little boy showed me the right door." "Yes," Ron said, "According to that little boy, you were in that bathroom exactly ten seconds." The woman laughed awkwardly. "I don't think that child was capable of knowing how long a second is," she said.

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"Andrew is twelve years old and at the top of his high school class," Ron said, not looking at her, "I think he knows how long ten seconds are." He turned and dismissed everyone except David Heathrow, Marion Lester, Carl, and Emma. He invited them to sit down, then turned back to Marion Lester. "Now tell me what you were doing in Carl and Emma's room," he said. "I made a mistake and opened the wrong door," she insisted. "Surely you could have figured out that it was the wrong door without actually entering the room?" Ron pointed out, "yet Andrew told me the door had been shut and you opened it and came out of the room." The woman had no answer to that, and Ron went on. "Actually," he said, "I know what you were doing there." He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out something. He held up a tiny, thin, flat square of what looked like black plastic. "You went into their room to place this behind the mirror, and several more of these on the bedside lamps, behind the headboard of the bed, and under the armchair," he said, "Unfortunately for you, you left evidence. Please come over to the sideboard." Marion Lester stood up and followed him, and when she reached the sideboard he announced that he was going to take her fingerprints. He switched on his Printmaster and told her to place her hands on it. She hesitated a moment, but then did as he said. As soon as the prints were taken he told her she could sit down again. He inserted a plastic sheet into the machine and waited. A beeping announced that the fingerprints on the plastic sheet, lifted from the mirror, the bedside lamps, and other items of Carl and Emma's room were the same as Marion Lester's. "That will be clear to anyone who needs to know," Ron said, and told her that she was now under arrest. "Placing eavesdropping devices in a private home is against the law of this country, Miss Lester," he said, "and the charge against you is that you did just that." The woman leapt up from her seat and pointed to David Heathrow. "It was him who told me to!" she cried, "It was all his idea!" Heathrow had a completely blank look on his face, and said nothing. His eyes followed Miss Lester as she walked up and down the room, getting increasingly agitated as she accused him. "He's the one wanting to know everything the Slades say, wanting to take CD-videos of them, and telling me to put all those gadgets in their room!" the woman yelled, "It's him you ought to arrest!" "Ah, yes," Ron said calmly, and held up a small silver object. "This was found attached behind the light fitting, with a fibre-optic lens running down the side of the fitting." Emma gasped and Carl put his arm around her. "It's in Ron's hand now," he whispered to her, "not behind our light fitting. Ron searched the room very thoroughly." "Miss Lester," Ron said, "I suggest you sit down and calm yourself." He turned to face her companion. "Now, Mr. Heathrow," he continued, "I would like to know what you're doing in Apmirra."

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Heathrow's composure did not slip one micrometre. "I'm a public servant," he said levelly, "I work in the Department of Transport. I'm the office manager at the Grantly Offices." "In the Transport Communications office, to be precise," Ron said matterof-factly, "and you've been there exactly nine months, two weeks, and three days. I'm surprised they let you take the day off—you aren't entitled to any holidays yet." "I'm on very good terms with my superior, and he was only too happy to let me come here to help today," Heathrow said almost smugly. "Your superior being a card-carrying member of the New Protectioners Party," Ron added, "and also only too happy to provide the materials you needed to help out here today, from government stores..." He held up the little black square. "Each of these has a government serial number on it," he said as if he were lecturing a class, "It was obviously not expected that they would be found..." Heathrow did not answer this, and though his face remained expressionless, his eyes glared at him. Marion Lester, her face white, sat rigidly next to him on the sofa, staring at Ron. Carl and Emma sat in the next sofa, watching anxiously. Carl had his arm around his wife's shoulders and she was holding his other hand with both of hers. "Mr. Heathrow," Ron said, his tone not quite menacing but not friendly either, "Let me ask you the question again. What are you doing in Apmirra?" Heathrow did not seem in the least perturbed. "I've already told you," he said. "You've told me one version," Ron said, "Yours. Now let me tell you mine. You are in Apmirra to carry out the plans of the New Protectioners—and I'm not talking about the Party but about the faction who are working behind the scenes to bring our country back into the bondage of the late Protectorate. You are one of several New Protectioners who have infiltrated the churches in Apmirra—and other places—in order to lead them astray." "This reminds me of Goldridge," Emma whispered to her husband. He nodded and squeezed her shoulder, but didn't answer. "I've been keeping an eye on what you people are up to," Ron continued, "and I'd only just found out a few things about you, Mr. Heathrow, when I got Carl's phone call this morning." Heathrow's face didn't change. He simply looked at Ron as if he were paying attention to a lecturer. "This is very interesting, Inspector," he said quietly, "but we have work to do." "Nothing urgent," Carl assured him, "Ron has plenty of time." "I have plenty of time," Ron echoed, "because God is on our side. Therefore I won't waste any more of yours now, Carl. Mr. Heathrow, may I suggest you leave this place now and permanently. And I'll take Miss Lester over to Headquarters and let them deal with her." Heathrow stood up and bowed slightly to Carl. "Thank you for breakfast," he said, "Good-bye." he turned and started towards the door.

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"I'll see you out," Carl said, getting to his feet and following the man out of the room despite his protests that it wasn't necessary. "Dave! Aren't you going to stay with me?" Marion Lester cried, jumping up from her seat and hurrying after them. Ron caught her firmly by the wrist and she stopped abruptly. "Wait for me, Miss Lester," he said, "Sit down a moment." Heathrow hadn't even flinched, but continued down the hallway to the front door. He might have been stone-deaf, to judge from his lack of reaction to her outburst. Carl and he went out the door into the garden, and Carl watched until he'd driven out of the gate and was well down the road before coming back inside. Not for one second did Heathrow behave as if anything were unusual. Ron had waited until Carl returned to the living room before leaving. "Well, time for me to get going," he said as Carl came in the door. He indicated the door with an outstretched hand. "Come along, Miss Lester," he said, "I'll see you folks later, Emma, Carl." "Thanks for coming so promptly," Carl said. "No problem," Ron replied, and took his prisoner's elbow to guide her from the room. Marion Lester, having lost a great deal of her self-confidence, walked dejectedly down the hallway and out the front door with Ron just behind her, still holding onto her arm. Carl and Emma followed them as far as the front door and from there watched them leave. "Carl, I'm tired," Emma said as they made their way to the back of the house, "I'm tired of this constant struggle." The sound of her voice betrayed the nearness of tears. Carl put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "I'm not surprised," he said softly, "It's a non-ending battle, isn't it?" At the livingroom door he stopped. "Come in here, Em, and sit down with me for a minute." He led her back into the room, closed the door, and took her to the nearest sofa. "Tell me about it," he said as they sat down and he wrapped his arms around her, "Don't keep it bottled in, Em." Her answer was to bury her face on his shoulder and burst into tears. He held her tightly and let her cry, praying silently for her until she calmed down. After some time she lifted her face and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Carl," she said softly, "I couldn't help it. I just can't face it all any more." "You don't need to apologise," he said, "A good cry is good for you when life becomes overwhelming." Emma sat straight up, pulling out of his arms, and slapped the seat of the sofa. "That's just it, Carl!" she exclaimed, "I'm overwhelmed! I can't cope any longer with the strain! All those children who depend on me twenty-four hours a day! All the problems some of them have! And the hassles with their parents! And Ben's going and breaking his leg in such a stupid accident! The fighting going on in Jack's church! And then Jack having a massive stroke like that! And to top it all off, the New Protectioners can't leave us alone!

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Four years now, they've been at us! I can't stand it any longer, Carl! Why's God letting this happen to us?" Carl drew her back gently to his side and kissed her forehead. Then he pushed her head gently against his shoulder and kept his hand on it. "Because He loves us, Em," he said, "That's why." She drew her head back slightly to look at him. "Because He loves us?" she echoed incredulously. "God loves us, Em," he said softly, "and I know I don't have to remind you of that. Jesus Christ, who is God, left His glory to become a man who then died so that we might live. Such is God's love. Because He loves us, He's made us part of His plans for other people—the people He's brought into our lives. He knows it's difficult, and He knows there'll be people who are against us, for whatever reason—because we love Jesus, because we care for the handicapped, because we believe in what is right and true. He knows how much physical, mental, and spiritual energy it requires to cope with all the demands on us that result from His calling us to be His." "So how can you say He allows it because of His love for us?" "I don't think I really need to tell you, Em, because you know it already, but I will tell you anyway, because I think you need to hear it, just now. He allows it because it makes us more like Him to have to cope with all that, and that is the very best thing that can happen to us, isn't it—that we become more like Jesus." "I guess so," Emma said, very softly, "but it doesn't make it any easier to cope with." Carl moved her away slightly so he could see her face, and held her by the shoulders. "Em, you know how to cope. You know how to turn to God for the strength you need," he said, smiling, "You're just worn out right now and so you think you've forgotten how. I think the best thing for you right now is to have a day off. I think you should let the rest of us shoulder the burden today while you go and spend the day resting. Have a sleep, even. Stay in our room and lie down, or sit down with your feet up. Read your Bible and pray. Listen to some quiet music." "But I don't want to be all by myself all day..." "I'll come up and see how you're doing now and then, and I'll send the children up to bring you your meals. You need a rest." "But what about all the work? Who's going to sort all that out? And Ben's jobs? How will they get done?" "That'll be my problem, Em. You don't need to worry about them. Anyway, this morning Ben told me he's already worked out a roster for his jobs to be done by whoever's currently on the volunteer team. It was his fault, he said, that he tripped on the spade handle—he was the one who'd not put the spade away—so he saw it as his responsibility to tidy up the consequences." He squeezed her shoulders gently and smiled. "So, my love," he said, "just do as you're told and go and take it easy!" She regarded him solemnly for some moments, then she put her arms around him and hugged him, hiding her face against his neck. "Thank you, Carl," she said softly. 189


He hugged her back, then stood up and helped her to her feet. Before letting her go, he took her hands in his, closed his eyes, and prayed quietly for her. "Off you go, now," he said when he'd finished, "I'll come up and see you later. All right?" "All right, Carl," she replied, smiling, "Thank you." They went out into the hallway and Emma started up the stairs while Carl headed towards the kitchen. He was almost at the kitchen door when he turned around to look up the stairs. Emma had just reached the landing and was standing there, watching him affectionately. He grinned, blew her a kiss, and went on into the kitchen.

! ! ! There were no more incidents at Beth-El Farm for several weeks. Emma recovered from her exhaustion, and Ben managed to get around on crutches to supervise the farm work until his leg had mended and he could start walking on it again. Jack Winston remained in hospital, his condition improving only very slowly. Nothing more was heard of or from David Heathrow, who had not only stopped going to Jack's church but had also quit his job in the Department of Transport. Ron had been keeping an eye on his movements, and he informed Carl that the man had simply vanished one night and he'd no idea where he'd gone. The day Ron had come to give him the news, Carl asked Andrew if he had any idea why Benjy had been so afraid of Heathrow. "Have you been able to get him to tell you?" he asked his son after Ron had left. "He kept saying that Mr. Heathrow was going to eat him," Andrew replied, "I didn't understand what he meant, and then I thought about it a bit, then I asked him if he meant that he thought Mr. Heathrow wanted to kill him, and he didn't know what I meant. So then I took him out to the shed and I showed him the mouse that was caught in the trap, and I said that the mouse was dead and did he think that Mr. Heathrow wanted him to be dead too." "How did he react to that?" Carl asked. Andrew's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "He said that Mr. Heathrow wanted to 'dead' him." "Hmmm, I wonder what gave him that idea?" "I think I know, Dad." "Do you? Tell me what you think, then." "It's the way Mr. Heathrow looked at him, Dad. I saw the way he looked at Benjy, once. He looked at Rasesh and Megan the same way, too. The way that lady looked at me, too, when she came out of your bedroom that time, Dad." "What way is that?" "I don't really know how to say it, but maybe you could say it's like they had multi-stunners in their eyes—multi-stunners set on 'kill'."

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Carl looked thoughtfully at Andrew for a moment. "If looks could kill..." he murmured. He remembered the countless times he himself had looked at other people that way, all those years ago when he'd been a Police Counsellor. Even Emma had seen that look in his eyes then. The name of the look was "hatred" and Jesus had made it equal to murder when he'd said that to hate someone was the same thing as killing them, in God's eyes. Benjy may not be able to understand many things, he thought, but he knows hatred when he meets it... And he knows love, too, he added to himself, he knows, for instance, that Andrew loves him without reservation... But one thing Benjy will never have is a look like that in his own eyes—he'll have fear, but he'll never have hatred.

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CHAPTER 20 One morning in September, Ben sat at the kitchen table with Emma and Carl, having a tea break as they did every morning. He finished stuffing a piece of paper into an envelope and threw the envelope onto the table in disgust. "I don't understand it," he muttered, "Why can't those people leave us alone? They harass our children, they paint slogans on our buildings, they cut down our trees, they throw rocks through our windows, and they send us spiteful messages! Haven't they got anything more constructive to do?" Carl sighed and picked up the envelope. He pulled out the piece of paper. The words on it were computer-printed, but that did not mitigate their nastiness. "'Unless you get rid of those sub-human creatures'," he read out loud, "'we will be forced to act and to clean this area ourselves. Make no mistake—we clean thoroughly.'" He pushed the paper back into the envelope and dropped it onto the table. "No signature, of course," he said, "But we know who sent the message." "'Sub-human creatures' indeed!" Ben exclaimed, "Whoever sent that is the sub-human creature!" "No," Emma said quietly, "Whoever sent that is very much human, and very much lost in the dark." "Hmmm, I guess," Ben said, "They certainly are in the dark. What do you think they mean by that verb, 'to clean'? I can't imagine they're thinking of soap and water." "I have a horrible feeling I know exactly what they mean..." Carl replied slowly. "D'you think we ought to call the police?" Emma asked. "I've called Ron and he's coming right over," Carl said, "He'll tell us what we should do." At that moment Andrew came into the kitchen looking anxious. "Dad," he said, "There's a man at the front door who wants to talk to you. He looks mean." Carl and Emma glanced at each other, and Carl stood up. "Ben, you come too," he said, "Stay here, Andrew." Ben followed him out into the hallway, and Andrew sat down next to his mother at the kitchen table. "What did the man look like?" she asked him. "Well, there's two of them actually," he replied, "and they're big and fierce-looking. They're wearing purple and orange jackets, and their hair's cut really short." Emma's heart skipped a beat. She stood up and motioned to her son to get up too. "Andrew," she said urgently, "Go and find Helen and Megan and the three of you get all the children together. Then all of you go to the living room and stay there quietly. All right?" "Yes, Mum," he said, and hurried out the back door.

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As quietly as she could, Emma went through the door which led from the kitchen to the dining room, crossed that room, and went into the study. The net drapes at the study window enabled her to see the front door without being seen, but the scene she witnessed was not reassuring. Not two men, but four, stood on the front porch, facing Carl. She could not see Ben and assumed he was just inside the door. Carl had his arms crossed and looked very angry, but the four men facing him looked far more menacing. She went to the phone and pressed Ron's pocket-phone number. He answered it at the first buzz. "Velasquez," he said, "I'm on duty, so please be brief." "Ron, this is Emma," she said urgently, "Are you on your way to our place?" "Yes, I told Carl I'd be right over. Has he changed his mind?" "No, Ron, he hasn't. I'm calling to warn you. There are four men on our front porch talking to Carl and they don't look friendly. I'm in the study and I can see them through the window." "Is Ben around?" "He went to the front door with Carl but I can't see him, so I assume he's standing just inside the door." "Right. Is your back gate unlocked?" Emma was about to answer when Andrew came running into the study. "Mum!" he cried, "Benjy and Rasesh are missing! I can't find them!" "Oh, no!" Emma cried. "Hey!" Ron exclaimed, "I'm not deaf! What's up?" She spoke more quietly into the phone. "Ron—sorry I yelled. Yes, the back gate's unlocked, but Andrew just came and told me that Benjy and Rasesh are missing. I'd told him to get all the children together—" "Where are the other children?" "Where are the others?" Emma asked Andrew. "In the living room, like you said," he replied. She relayed his answer to Ron. "The others are in the living room, Andrew says." She turned quickly to her son. "Go and join them and wait for me," she told him, and Andrew hurried out of the study. "Right," Ron said, "Tell me—what are those fellows out there up to now?" She looked out the window before answering. "They're still there, and it looks like they're arguing pretty heatedly with Carl." "Describe them to me." "They're tall, but not quite as tall as Carl, though they look heftier than him. They're wearing shiny, purple jackets with orange trim, and black trousers. Three of them have their hair cut very short but the other one's got his hair in a pony tail. I don't know why, but he reminds me of someone—I don't know who, though. He's got his back to me, so I can't see his face." "I see," Ron said, as if he were talking to himself, "and I wish I didn't. The picture is all too clear now. Dear Lord, how we need Your wisdom!" "Amen," Emma said, "All the time. What picture do you mean, Ron?"

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"Never mind for now," Ron said, his voice more firm, "I'll explain it later. All right, Emma, listen. Do exactly as I say, now. Are you on the pocketphone?" "No. Do you want me to transfer?" "Yes, right now." She took Carl's pocket-phone out of the desk drawer and switched it Ron's number. "Can you hear me, Ron?" "Loud and clear." She switched off the desk phone. "What do I do now?" "Get all those children from the living room, and as quietly as possible take them over to the barn. Keep the pocket-phone switched on, so you can reach me or I can reach you quickly, and so we can tell where you are. Stay in or near the barn, but make sure you're all out of sight. I'll be there in about five or ten minutes, okay?" "All right, Ron. But what about Ben and Carl?" "I've already sent some of my men over your way. They should get there soon, but I want you and the children away from the house. These fellows aren't trifling—they're extremely dangerous, especially to your children. Now go and do as I said. Get those children and yourself away from the house." "All right, Ron, I'm off." Emma put the pocket-phone into the deep pocket of her apron, and ran out of the study, praying for Carl and Ben's safety as she went through the dining room, across the hallway, and into the living room. She glanced towards the front door as she crossed the hall. The door was half-shut, so that she couldn't see the men outside, but she saw that Ben was hiding behind the door, ready to act if necessary. He noticed her and signalled to her to be quiet. She nodded and went into the living room. Two minutes later Emma and all the children were walking in single file in the shadow of the barn, with Andrew at the front, Helen in the middle, and Emma bringing up the rear. Each one had their right hand on the shoulder of the person in front. Emma wondered where Benjy and Rasesh might be, and prayed silently for their safety. When they reached the bushes near the back of the barn Emma made them all crouch down behind them, and they all stayed there quietly, waiting for Ron and his men to arrive. Suddenly Emma was startled by a movement on the other side of the bushes behind her. She motioned to all the children to be very quiet, for it seemed that someone was walking carefully along behind the bushes. They all put their hands over their mouths as she'd told them to do before they'd left the living room, and sat perfectly still, keeping their eyes on her. "Emma, are you around here?" she heard Ben whisper through the bushes. "Ben!" she whispered back, "We're right here, behind these bushes. Keep quiet." The branches near her parted and Ben pushed his way through as quietly as he could. He crouched down next to her. "They've got Carl," he whispered, "He told me to run for it and find you." 194


Emma felt as if a frozen hand had suddenly gripped her heart. "They've got Carl?" she repeated very softly. "The four of them pounced on him all of a sudden. That's when he told me to run. We need to get help somehow." "How did you know to look for us here?" "I saw the bushes moving." "Oh dear. I'm glad it was you who saw it and not them." "I saw something else just now as I left the house." "What?" "Two of those blokes, carrying two children up the road towards the woods. They'd just gone out the gate. I don't know if they were the same fellows or two more." "They had Benjy and Rasesh!" "I expect so. We need to get help." "Ron's coming over. He should be here any minute now. He said he'd meet us by the back gate." "Ah! I think I'll go out there and wait for him, then. You lot get into the barn as quietly as you can. Stay in there and stay down." Before Emma could answer, Ben pushed his way out through the bushes and cautiously made his way around the barn and out through the back gate. There was a fairly deep ditch running parallel to the road between the road and the farm fence, and he got down into it, hiding as best he could under an overhanging bush. From this position he could see the road but—he hoped—he couldn't be seen easily. Less than a minute later he caught sight of Ron's car approaching. He jumped out of the ditch and onto the edge of the road, and waved madly. The car came to a stop right next to him. Ron was in the front passenger seat and one of his men was driving. Another officer sat in the back. Ron motioned for him to get into the back. Ben climbed into the back seat of the car as quickly as he could. "Emma and the children are in the barn," he said urgently, "Two of those purple blokes have Benjy and Rasesh and they went up the road with them. Those four blokes who were at the front door got hold of Carl and I don't know where they all are. What do we do, Ron?" "We get Emma and the children to safety, first of all," Ron said, and switched on his pocket-phone. He was about to press a number when the officer next to him tapped him on the shoulder and pointed through the windscreen. "There's a fire over there," he said. A column of black smoke was climbing to the sky from somewhere beyond the barn. "The house!" Ben yelled, and started to open the car door. "Don't!" the officer in the back seat shouted. "Stay here!" Ron cried out. The officer grabbed Ben's arm and pulled him back onto the seat, and reached across him to shut the door.

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"We'll leave that to my men to deal with," Ron said, "They should have arrived by now. Is the farm van in the barn, Ben?" "As far as I know, yes." "Right. McKenzie, get over to that barn—with caution—get Mrs. Slade and the children into that van, and drive them at top speed to Headquarters." "Yes, Sir," the officer next to Ben replied, and immediately left the car on his mission. "Now, Lieutenant Wong," Ron said to the driver, "we three are going to follow that other pair and find out what they're up to. Drive over to those woods up the road and park behind the fireshed, on the side opposite the woods." Wong did as Ron said, and a minute later they were stopped next to the fireshed. Ron turned to Ben. "Can you handle a stunner, Ben?" he asked. "Uh, yes," Ben replied, "I was an Enwuh Officer once, remember?" "Right," Ron said, and handed him one of the pocket-sized weapons. "Use it only in self-defense. Stay with me. I've got my locator switched on." He turned to Wong. "Lieutenant, is your locator on?" "Yes, it is," Wong said. "Let's go, then," Ron said, "Oh, by the way, Ben, this is Harold Wong. Harry, meet Ben Clark. Now off you go, and keep in contact." He pointed to the edge of the woods beyond the fireshed. "In that direction. We'll go along the road, then up the track towards the firetower. The others should be along soon. I've got the trailing signal on, so they'll find the car. Let's go." Keeping as low as possible, Wong set off towards the woods, while Ron and Ben walked around the fireshed towards the road. There was no sign of any movement along the road in either direction. Ron set off at a slow jog along the edge of the woods, Ben following. They reached the stile marking the start of the track to the firetower and climbed over it. "Now we proceed very carefully," Ron said, "Keep your eyes and your ears wide open, and walk as quietly as if you weren't moving at all." "Okay, Ron," Ben replied, "I'm ready." "One thing about these blokes—they don't seem to know much about camouflage. Those purple and orange jackets don't blend too well with the surroundings, which means that if they're around we should have no trouble seeing them." "Right." Ron set off along the track, walking on the sides of his feet and avoiding sticks and other debris on the ground. Ben walked behind him in the same fashion. There was no breeze and the woods were very quiet, with only an occasional bird call breaking the stillness. It occurred to Ben that it felt as if a storm were building up. As they went along, Ben glanced around at both sides of the path, and noticed that the undergrowth was very thick. "There seem to have been a lot of fires in these woods," he commented to Ron after a while. 196


"Yes," Ron said curtly. "It seems odd," Ben went on, "I'd never really noticed it before. As far as I know, there haven't been any fires in here since we've been living at the farm." Ron wheeled on him fiercely. "Keep quiet," he said in a loud whisper, sounding and looking a great deal more annoyed than Ben would have expected. At the astonished look on Ben's face he calmed down. He put a hand on Ben's shoulder. "This was part of the Experimental Farm, Ben," he said very softly, and shrugged slowly. "Let's keep going," he said, and turned to continue following the path. The buzzer on his pocket-phone sounded and he pulled it out. "Velasquez," he said softly into the instrument. "Wong here," came the reply, "I've found them." "Where?" Ron asked. "In the clearing, by the firetower. I'm hiding in the bushes on the western side of it and I'm quite sure they can't see me. There are four of them, and they've got two small boys with them. The boys are sitting on the ground with their backs to one of the tower supports. They've tied the boys' wrists and ankles and gagged them. The men are huddled together and they seem to be having an argument." "Do the boys seem to be okay?" Ron asked. "I think so—apart from being tied up." "Right. Stay there and keep an eye on them. We're almost at the clearing, on the northern side of it. We'll take up a position like yours when we get there. The important thing is not to let them know we're there. Let me know right away if anything changes. Turn the buzzer on your pocket-phone down to just audible." "Yes, Sir." He was putting his pocket-phone away when Ben grabbed his arm and pulled him carefully but quickly into the undergrowth at the side of the path. Ron's eyebrows shot up and he looked at him questioningly. Ben pointed towards the end of the track. Just visible through the branches extending out over the path were two men in purple jackets. Ron patted Ben's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered. He did a very quick sum in his head, and held up six fingers. Ben nodded gravely. "Outnumbered," he said very softly. Ron pressed a switch on his pocket-phone which activated its "busy" signal. Any of his men trying to contact him from now on would know that he was in a precarious position and that reinforcements were needed. Ben leant over and spoke very softly in Ron's ear. "Do you have another locator?" he asked. "I do," Ron replied, "An idea?" He took a small, button-shaped device out of a pocket, switched it on, and handed it to Ben. "Uh-huh," Ben said, "I'm going over to them. Let them get me. You'll be able to know where they're going, and the children will feel better if I'm with them." "They might kill you!" 197


"They won't—they don't do it the quick way. You know that." "I can't let you do it, Ben. You'll get hurt." Ben shrugged. "You'll get them before they do too much damage." "I can't guarantee that. I can't let you do it." Ben put a hand on his arm. "Ron," he said slowly, "Could we pray about it?" Ron looked at him long and hard. He knew that Ben was not a fool. He loved Carl's family and he loved God, and especially he loved Benjy. This idea of his was not a whim, and it might even work, but it was dangerous, and Ron was afraid that it might cost Ben more than he thought. "Okay, Ben," he said at last, "We'll pray about it." They closed their eyes for a few moments and prayed silently, and when they'd finished they looked at each other questioningly. Finally, Ron patted Ben's shoulder. "Go with the Lord, Ben," he said, "Be careful." "You too," Ben said, and he crept off through the bushes towards the end of the path. Ron watched him go for a moment, then he set off through the undergrowth in the opposite direction, staying off the path until he was well away from the clearing. From then on he followed the track back to the stile. He climbed over and hurried back to his car behind the fireshed. He got into the front passenger seat, took out his pocket-phone, and called Lieutenant Wong. The response came immediately. "Wong here," the officer said, very softly. "Harry," Ron said, also very softly, "I'm back at the car. Ben's aiming to get them to capture him so we can trace them. He's got a locator. Keep me informed as to what's happening at the clearing. I'm going to organise the others when they arrive, according to whatever you tell me." "Yes, Sir," Wong said, "Oh—there are two more of those blokes now, and yes, they've got Ben. He's struggling, but they're obviously stronger than he is. Hey—I know who one of those fellows is, Inspector. I've seen him before." "Who is it?" "Bloke called Dave Heathrow—leads the New Protectioners in Worthy. Wears a ponytail—it's his trademark. All the others have crewcuts." Ron recalled Emma telling him that the man with a ponytail reminded her of someone. Now he knew why, and who it probably was. If it was indeed the same man Emma had seen talking to Carl, however, it meant that his companions who held Carl might not be far away. "What are they doing with Ben?" he asked. "Oh, boy, Inspector, they're beating him up. D'you want me to go over and help him?" "No, stay where you are. You're outnumbered. Ben knew it might happen. Just pray our men get here soon!" "Yes, Sir." Ron replaced the phone in his pocket. He closed his eyes and prayed for Ben, for Carl, for the two boys, and for his men. Please, Lord, let my men get here as quickly as possible, he prayed, Please let us stop these people without anyone getting killed in the process. He opened his eyes again, 198


sighed deeply, and got out of the car. A quick glance at the southern sky told him that a storm was not far away. The faint sound of thunder could be heard in the distance, and the dark, anvil-topped mass of clouds in the southern sky was almost continuously illuminated by streaks of lightning. Hopefully all this would be over before the storm reached this area, but things would have to move at a fast pace for that to happen. He walked around to the front of the fireshed and for the first time he noticed that the doors of the shed were open and the firetruck was not there. The fire crew must have come while he was in the woods with Ben, and he could guess where they had taken the firetruck. Wistfully, he thought briefly of Beth-El Farm and all the work that had gone into it. He waited in the shade of the fireshed, and some three minutes later three unmarked police cars drove up to it. He ran out to the first one as the officers inside leapt out. "Thank God you're here at last," he exclaimed, and motioned to the men to gather around him. "We've got to be ready to follow those fellows," he explained, "They've got two of the children and one of the adults, Ben Clark. He's got a locator on him, so we'll be able to follow them. They set fire to the farmhouse, and they've also abducted Mr. Slade. Mrs. Slade and the rest of the children are safe at Headquarters. Now, here's what I want you to do. First, turn your cars around so they're ready to go." He threw the key to his own vehicle to one of the officers. "Wilkes, get my car out from behind the shed and park it next to the others." The man ran off to Ron's car while two others went to turn the other cars around. "When we know those fellows are moving, we'll trail them with Ben's locator. They might, of course, have arranged for a helicopter, but I doubt it. More likely, they've got someone meeting them at the firetower. There's a fire trail from the eastern edge of the woods which ends up at the clearing." He felt the vibration of the buzzer of his pocket-phone, and pulled out the instrument. "Velasquez," he said. "Wong, Sir. They seem to be expecting something. They've gathered Ben and the boys together—Ben's also tied up and gagged, by the way—and they're picking up the boys to carry them and pushing Ben along towards the other side of the clearing. I can hear the boys crying—I expect they're frightened. These fellows aren't exactly gentle with them." "Is there a vehicle there?" "No, Sir. There could be one coming, from the way they're behaving, though. Heathrow keeps looking at his watch and then at the barrier behind the tower." "Heathrow!" Ron said in disgust, "No more pretending now, is there?" "I beg your pardon, Inspector?" "Never mind, Wong. I was talking to myself. Keep me posted." "Yes, Sir." Ron looked at the officers around him. "Get in your cars," he ordered. He caught one man's arm as he went past him. "Except you, Streeton," he said, "You stay here. Keep out of sight in the shed, but let me know if any of those fellows turn up at this end of the woods. The rest of us are going to the other 199


end of the fire trail. That's in Sector 352. If you get a red signal on your pocket-phone, inform Headquarters right away that we have an emergency and tell them where." Officer Streeton saluted. "Yes, Sir," he said, and walked off to the fireshed. Ron indicated to two other men that they should get into his car, then climbed into the front passenger seat as they got into the back. The cars set off up the road skirting the woods, heading towards the road that intersected the fire-trail on the eastern side. As they approached the other road, Ron's pocket-phone buzzed again. "Wong here, Sir," came the message, "A van has just arrived and they're pushing Ben and the boys into the back of it. They're closing the door. Heathrow and the others are getting into the front. The van's turning around... and it's going back down the fire trail." "Right, Wilkes," Ron said, without even responding to Wong's call, "Top speed!" They reached the fire-trail in time to see a large brown van speeding away in the opposite direction. Ron called each of the cars in turn, ordering the two in front to head off by the next side road towards the other end of the road they were on, at top speed. The other car and his were to follow and catch up to the van. Next, he called Harry Wong and told him to join Streeton at the fireshed, then he called Streeton, told him what was happening, and asked him to inform Headquarters. The first two cars had turned off when they reached the side road. The remaining two cars continued in pursuit of the van. Ron was quite sure the driver of the van knew he was being followed, for he suddenly accelerated. The van had not been designed for high speeds, however, and was far from being as maneuverable as the police cars, and he could see that their speed was becoming a problem to its driver. The van was not steady on the road. They were approaching the intersection with the main interstate highway when the van suddenly lurched violently, skidded across the road, and slid to a complete stop in the ditch alongside the road. The two police cars following raced across the road and stopped near it, one at each end of the van. Ron and his men leapt out, their stunners in their hands, and surrounded the vehicle. It was leaning to the left at a steep angle, the wheels on its left side in the ditch. One of the policemen immediately went to the back of the van and forced open the doors. Ben was lying in the angle of the floor and the side of the van, the boys almost on top of him. The officer pulled first one child and then the other off Ben, and cut the rope binding Ben's wrists. "You okay?" he whispered to Ben. In answer, Ben wriggled out of the van and pulled the gag from his mouth. "Just a bit sore," he said softly, "Is anyone else with you?" The officer was busy cutting the boys' bonds and didn't reply right away. There was no need for the man to answer Ben, however, for a commotion at the front of the van made it obvious that the men in the van were fighting someone else. Ben reacted by pushing both the policeman and the boys into 200


the ditch and jumping in after them. He urged them all away from the van. "Keep right down, you two," he said to the boys. He turned to the policeman, who was right behind him. "We've got to get them away from here," he said. The officer agreed. "You do that," he said, "I'll see what I can do up there. Have you got a stunner?" "Yes, and a locator." "Right, then," the officer said, "Go! Now!" Without waiting to see whether Ben obeyed, he started to crawl back up the ditch towards the van. Ben pulled the gags out of Benjy and Rasesh's mouths. "Be very quiet, boys," he said softly, "We've got to go home. We'll pretend we're worms under the ground, and crawl along this ditch as far and as fast as we can. Okay? You first, Rasesh. Off we go!" The boys were only too glad to join in Ben's game, and happily crawled away through the long grass of the ditch, Ben bringing up the rear. The New Protectioners had recovered from the shock of the accident to find their van surrounded by the police. Ron and one of his officers opened the doors on the side of the van out of the ditch and tried to get its occupants out. Their seat harnesses were still fastened and this made it difficult to move them. It wasn't long, however, before the men themselves undid their harnesses and started to climb out. As soon as the first man was out, the fight began. At first the man seemed to be in a daze, moving unsteadily away from the van. Two officers were beside him, ready to steady him or catch him if he seemed about to fall. Without warning, he lunged at one of the officers, bowling him off his feet, jumping on top of him and punching him about the head with his fists as soon as he hit the ground. The other officer threw himself at the man and pushed him off his colleague, but then it was his turn to receive blows. The onslaught didn't last long, however, for he'd had his stunner ready and a quick jab of it against the man's side stilled him. Immediately he turned to use the stunner again as another man, just out of the van, attacked Ron. The man with the pony tail, who had been seated in the back of the cab, managed to get out of his harness and to climb through the connecting window into the back of the van. One of the officers saw his movement as he disappeared from the cab. "There's one trying to get out the back!" he yelled. Two policemen headed for the back of the van, where the officer who'd let Ben and the boys out was just climbing out of the ditch. The man with the ponytail came out of the van and threw himself at the officer, and the two of them fell into the ditch in a heap. The New Protectioner's reflexes were sharp, and he jumped to his feet, clambered out on the other side of the ditch, and raced off into the bush beyond it. The two officers, without stopping to help their colleague, jumped the ditch and set off after him. Back at the front of the van, Ron's men had managed to overcome the other six New Protectioners and were standing guard over them as they waited for the other two cars to appear. "They should have been here by now," one of the officers muttered, "Don't know what's keeping them." 201


"Headquarters are sending a helicopter," Ron informed his men, "If the others don't turn up, we'll send this lot off to Headquarters on it." "The bloke with the long hair seems to have got away," another man pointed out. "Wilkes and Kaminski will catch him," Ron answered, showing no hint of the anxiety he was feeling. He turned to look at their prisoners. The stunners had paralysed them, but they were quite conscious and very obviously angry. "That's six of them who won't be kidnapping any more children," he said to no-one in particular. "Have they been doing a lot of this sort of thing, Inspector?" the constable standing next to him asked. Ron didn't answer him, but turned his head slowly and stared at him for a long moment. Constable James Saunders was still very young—twentyfour, Ron seemed to recall. He still had much to learn, but he needed to learn it quickly. Time was short and getting shorter. Finally he spoke. "Where have you been, Saunders?" he asked. Saunders blinked and stared back in confusion. "What do you mean, Sir?" he asked. "Don't you know what the New Protectioners have been up to?" Ron asked, "In Brown's Reef, in Worthy, in Sydney, even in Apmirra? All over the country, in fact?" "Well, I know they've been causing plenty of disturbances, Sir," Saunders replied, "but I don't know the details. I've been on days off for the past week." Ron stared at him again, then shook his head. "The details..." he said softly, and almost gagged. He recovered himself, placed his hands on the young man's shoulders, and looked him in the eye. "Never mind the details," he said, "Just remember, Saunders, in future, that the world doesn't stop just because you've got days off. Keep in touch with it lest it take you by surprise." Constable Saunders still looked confused. "Uh, yes, Sir," he said. Ron let go of him and patted his shoulder. "You don't really want to know the details, Saunders," he said, "though they'll no doubt be all over the media within the next couple of days. Just remember that the New Protectioners have chosen to serve what is evil rather than what is good. The consequences of that choice follow all too naturally." "Yes, Sir," Saunders said, and Ron patted his shoulder again and went off towards the back of the van. The officer who had fallen back into the ditch had succeeded in getting out, and was sitting on the edge of it brushing dirt off his trousers. Ron came over to him and crouched down next to him. "Are you all right, Smithers?" he asked. The man paused in his task and looked at him. "Yes, Sir," he said. Ron slapped him on the back and stood up again. "Better come and join the rest of us or you'll get left behind." "What about Wilkes and Kaminski?" the man asked. 202


"I've called for a search helicopter to give them a hand, as it were," Ron said, "Come on." He walked back towards the officers and their prisoners at the front of the van. Smithers walked slowly behind him, limping slightly. The helicopter arrived a few minutes later and landed in the middle of the road, but there was still no sign of the other two cars. The six New Protectioners were loaded into the back of the helicopter and the craft took off immediately and headed back to Apmirra. Ron looked around at his men who were watching the helicopter as it disappeared into the distance. "Well," he said, "It looks as if we've lost half our crew." "We'd better go look for them, Sir," Smithers suggested, "They may have run into some other trouble." "Back to the cars," Ron ordered, "You fellows in the front car continue on to the highway." As his men hurried off towards their vehicles, he gazed along the length of the ditch, wondering how far Ben and the boys had gone. Slowly he walked over to his car and got into the front seat. "We'd better back-track and pick up Mr. Clark and the children," he said, "I expect they haven't got all that far." Constable Saunders, at the wheel, was looking towards the southern sky. "That's quite a storm coming this way," he observed, "If we don't find them quickly they could get very wet." "Off we go, then," Ron said gruffly, "Looking at those clouds won't stop them advancing." Saunders glanced at him with some apprehension, and Ron frowned. "Have you forgotten how to start the car, Constable?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Uh, no, Sir," Saunders replied, and demonstrated the truth of his answer. He turned the car around and headed back towards the farm road. Ben and his charges had actually gone almost a kilometre in their flight along the ditch. Ron spotted them when the car had almost reached them, and he yelled for Saunders to stop. The car came to a halt abreast of the trio, and Ron and one of the men in the back jumped out. "Ben, come on up," he shouted. He crouched down and reached out his hand. "Benjy," he called, "Hold my hand and I'll pull you out." Benjy caught hold of his hand and he pulled the boy out, while the other officer helped Ben up and then pulled Rasesh out of the ditch. All three were covered in dirt and leaves. "Into the car!" Ron ordered, and got back into the front. Ben and the boys piled into the back and the officer got in after them. He had hardly closed the door when the car took off again, sped towards the side road, and turned off onto it.

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CHAPTER 21 When they'd turned up the side road as the other two cars had gone after the van, Ron's men had driven at high speed towards the highway in the hopes of intercepting the van from that end. What they hadn't expected to find was a roadblock. They had gone about four kilometres when they came to a fallen tree lying across the road. The drivers of both cars reacted quickly, one car driving off the road to one side and the other going in the opposite direction. Both cars stopped short of the ditches alongside the road. By the time Ron and his men arrived at the place where the cars were stopped the tree had been removed and the men in the cars had disappeared. Ron leapt out of his car as soon as it stopped. "Ben, stay here with the boys," he said before closing the door, "and Saunders, you stay behind that steering wheel and ready to drive off at a second's notice. The rest of you come with me." With Officer Smithers he ran to the nearest car, at the same time motioning the other two men towards the other one. He looked into the car, and at first noticed nothing unusual. As he was about to open the door, however, Smithers caught his arm. Ron looked at the policeman curiously. "What's up?" he asked. Smithers pointed at the steering wheel. "That," he said, "On the steering column." Ron whistled. "Oh, boy," he said softly, "I'm glad you saw it in time!" To the casual observer, the tiny purple-and-orange patch stuck to the side of the steering column would have looked like nothing more than a coloured bit of plastic. Ron and his officer, however, recognised it as the deadly weapon it was, set to trigger the release of poison gas from a canister hidden somewhere in the car as soon as a door were opened, simply from the sudden change in brightness at the level of the patch. Its colours told them who had placed it there. "Those people have an obsession with their trademark colours, don't they?" Smithers remarked. "Those people are obsessed, full stop," Ron said as he looked around towards the other car. He was relieved to see that the men there had also noticed the booby-trap in time. "Well," he said, "The only thing to do to deal with this is to get a crew from Headquarters to come over here and clean up these cars. As for us, we've got our work cut out, I think. We still have to find Mr. Slade, and now we have to find the rest of our team." "My guess is that they're in the same place," Smithers said, "The question is, where?" "I expect you're right," Ron said, "and I have an idea of where to start looking. Come on, back to the car." He waved to the two officers across the road to return to his car.

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The fourth car arrived from the direction of the highway and stopped next to Ron's as he was getting in. He got out again to talk to its occupants. "Those cars have gas traps," he told them, "I've summoned a crew from headquarters to deal with them. Now follow us—I have a hunch as to where we'll find our officers and maybe even Carl Slade." He got back into his car and patted Constable Saunders' shoulder. "Turn on the locator tracer, Constable," he said, "and head for the river."

! ! ! The group of buildings making up the Apmirra Holiday Resort was well known all over Pamanyungan and even in other countries. Its bookings list was always full, for the resort offered all kinds of attractions, promising its patrons a holiday "unlike anything they could find elsewhere". Besides the type of activities associated with nearness to water, such as fishing, swimming, and boating, there were bushwalking, horseriding, tennis, snatchball, and other such activities. The more sedentary customer had access to a library, Fantasy Rooms, saunas, games rooms, two casinos, and seven dining rooms. For those who were after a more unusual holiday, there were other possibilities not listed in the resort's promotional materials but made known by word of mouth. The latter had been hinted at to Ron Velasquez and Lieutenant Wong by Marion Lester after her arrest. When Ron had asked her where she worked, she'd named the Apmirra Holiday Resort and had told them that her position there was mainly that of swimming instructor. She'd suggested that they visit the place, maybe even book a holiday there. "You never know what you might find there," she'd said, "Not everything is advertised, you know. We have special offers for those who like a little extra with their holidays and are willing to pay a little more..." Ron had already heard from other Federal Police teams around the country about some of the "special offers" they'd found at other resorts, and Marion Lester's words had made his hair stand on end. Two weeks before the incident at Beth-El Farm which had ended with her arrest, he'd wanted to investigate the Apmirra resort, but he'd been unable to obtain a search warrant to do so. Someone in a high government position had heard of his intentions and had blocked the issuing of the warrant. He'd had an idea of who had done the blocking, but as he had no way of proving it he'd decided to simply be patient and carry out his investigations by slower and more subtle means. Now the blinking of the locator light on the tracer screen of his car was confirming his suspicions. There was a connection between the Apmirra resort and the New Protectioners. He turned around to speak to Ben. "I think we'll drop you and the boys off at the Federal Police branch office at the dam," he said, "I want them well out of harm's reach, and where we're headed is more like straight into its jaws." "Right," Ben said, "You know what you're doing, Ron."

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"I hope so, Ben," Ron said, "I hope so. This whole thing could backfire on us and end in disaster. The picture that's been coming together is pretty ghastly, and the worst of it is that some awfully high-up people are involved. Pray for us, Ben." He turned to face the front of the car again. "Saunders, stop in at the Harvey Dam Branch Office. We'll drop off Mr. Clark and the boys before going on." The two cars sped on towards the river resort area as soon as Ben and his charges had climbed out of Ron's. They watched the cars disappear around the next bend in the road, then walked into the office, where a policeman was receiving instructions over the phone from Ron. "We're to take you to Headquarters straight away," he informed Ben when he switched the phone off, "There's a vehicle just about to leave for Headquarters out the back, so you can ride with them." It took only ten minutes for Ron and his men to drive from Harvey Dam to the Apmirra resort, but by then the storm had well and truly reached the area and rain was pouring down like a waterfall over the whole place. They drove in through the main entrance and followed the driveway through the landscaped grounds to the main building, a huge, two-storey glass-andmock-sandstone affair surrounded by casuarinas and white gums. They stopped the cars under the sweeping metal awning which covered the driveway in front of the building. Ron spoke to his driver and at the same time, over the car radio, to the driver of the other car. "Saunders, Michelson, you stay at the wheel," Ron said, "Turn your cars around. Keep the doors locked unless we come running out. Be ready to drive off at a moment's notice. The rest of you, come with me. Stunners ready but not out." He got out of the car and as soon as the other officers were out he walked over with them to the main doors of the resort. They went in and he led them straight past the reception desk into the staff area behind it. Four uniformed guards came running to stop them, but Ron turned around and showed them his badge. "This is an official visit," he said, and indicated to his men to proceed through the double doors marked Staff Only. Two of the guards immediately ran off towards the stairs which led to the manager's office. The other two stationed themselves on either side of the doors. Inside the staff area, Ron gave orders to his men to search in different directions. "I've got a plan of my own," he said, "Smithers, come with me. Off you go, men. Keep in touch." The officers hurried off to the left and the right, and Ron set off at a brisk walk towards the door at the back of the building. "I have an idea where we should head first, Paul," he explained to Smithers as they walked, "Make sure your stunner is well and truly ready in your hand. They've raised the alarm, but I don't think they're aware that I know this place like the back of my hand." They went through the back doors and found themselves in the staff parking area. Ron broke into a run and headed through the rain straight towards another building on the far side of it. When they reached it he didn't 206


go through the obvious doorway, but instead, hugging the wall, he led Smithers to an entrance at the side. This was a small doorway, at the foot of a short flight of steps, which led into a storage area for the non-burnable rubbish which was collected from the resort twice a week. "At your quietest," he whispered to Smithers as they went through the door and closed it behind them. Walking on the sides of his feet, he made his way between the bins lining the room to another door at the other end. He opened this very slowly and carefully, just enough to be able to see up both sides of the dimly-lit corridor beyond it. There was no-one visible at either end. He went out into the cream-tiled corridor and Smithers followed him, closing the door carefully. Still walking cautiously, they followed the corridor, past four identical, numbered, red-painted doors on either side, to the end. Here there were two more doors, painted blue. Ron hesitated a moment, looking from one to the other, then chose the left-hand one. Very carefully he opened the door. It led into a room even more dimly illuminated than the corridor. He opened the door wider and looked in. There were four metal-framed bunk-beds in the room, and each of the eight beds was occupied by two small seated figures. He walked into the room and motioned to Smithers to come in too. The officer couldn't suppress a gasp when he saw the children sitting on the beds. Each one had a wrist and ankle fastened by a light chain to the upright of the bed. "Got your multi-blade?" Ron asked softly, taking his own tool out of a pocket. "I do," Smithers replied. "Right," Ron said, "To work." He went over to the nearest bunk, at the same time putting a finger on his lips to indicate to the children, who were watching him curiously, that they must keep quiet. He opened his cutting tool and severed the chains of the first child. The girl, who might have been eight or nine years old, gazed at him with a puzzled look, but made no move. He put a hand gently on her shoulder. "Stay there," he said, "Wait until I tell you to come down." He repeated this to each child, and Smithers did the same with those whose chains he cut. When they had freed all the children, Ron stood in the middle of the room and waved his hands. "All right," he said, "Come down here, all of you." The children stared at him as if they hadn't understood what he'd said, and stayed where they sat. He glanced at Smithers, who was looking from one child to the other, his brow furrowed. "They're not behaving normally," the policeman observed, "What's wrong?" "They're mentally handicapped," Ron said, "and they've been sedated as well." Smithers stared at him. "What on earth—" "Never mind for now," Ron said, "I'll explain later. Right now we have to get them out of here. Come on, help me get them off the beds." They went from one bed to the next, pulling the children down as gently as they could and standing them up in the middle of the room. "Now, take 207


each other's hands," he said to them, showing them what he meant. The children slowly complied, still with a dazed look in their eyes. "Paul," he said, indicating the boy standing nearest Smithers, "you take that one's hand. I'll take this one. We're going across the hall to the other room." He moved to the door, the line of children following docilely, looked up the corridor to make sure it was clear, then walked somewhat faster to the facing door. He didn't hesitate, but opened it and walked into the room. The children and Smithers crowded in after him. There were another four bunk-beds in this room, also with two children chained to each of the eight bunks, and Ron began to cut their chains straight away. Smithers closed the door and did the same. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he'd noticed something else, and in between cutting two sets of chains he bent down to look on the floor under the bunks. Ron had noticed his movement. "Yes," he said, "this is where the locators indicated they were." Under the bunk were three men, tied up at the wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles, and gagged. Their eyes were open, but they didn't seem to be reacting to his and Ron's presence in the room. Smithers recognised his missing fellow officers. "They're alive, but they're not all here either," he said, "Looks like they've been drugged too." "Not altogether surprising," Ron said as he cut the last of the children's chains. He turned to the other children. "Come over here," he said, motioning to them with his hands. The children did as he said this time, and crowded around him. He crouched down to their level. "We have to go outside," he said, "and you have to be very, very quiet." He put a finger over his lips again. Getting up, he started pulling the other children down from the beds. Smithers had managed to drag the three men out from under the bed and was cutting their bonds. Ron came over to help him. He waved a hand in front of the first man's eyes, but there was no reaction. "Hmmmm," he muttered, and set to cutting the next man's cords. The children huddled together in the middle of the room, watching them. They pulled out three more men and cut their bonds, and moved to the next set of bunks. Another three men lay under it. Ron grabbed the first man's ankles and dragged him out from under the bed. "Carl!" he exclaimed as he recognised his friend. Carl's eyes were open, too, but he did not react either. Another shock awaited them as they pulled out two men from under the last bunk and recognised Officers Wilkes and Kaminski. "Does this mean Heathrow got away?" Smithers asked. "Could do," Ron said. He was cutting the cords on Kaminski's wrists when he suddenly straightened up. Without a word to Smithers or the children he wheeled around and in two leaps went to stand in the corner by the door. Ron had hardly reached his position when the door opened and two men in purple jackets came into the room. Smithers stared at them in shock. The New Protectioners seemed to have been taken by surprise, too, for they stopped abruptly at the sight of Smithers, the men on the floor, and the 208


group of children. Ron took full advantage of their hesitation by immediately using his stunner against them, and they collapsed onto the floor. He stepped over them and pushed them out of the way of the door. Going back to Kaminski, he finished cutting his bonds. Then he knelt by the man's shoulder, took a small torch out of his pocket, and used it to examine the man's eyes. "Worth a try," he muttered to himself. He sat back on his heels and pulled a small box out of another pocket. This contained a small hypodermic gun and a number of coloured capsules. He placed one of the blue capsules in the gun, opened up Kaminski's shirt far enough to pull it down his shoulder on one side, and applied the gun to the top of his arm. He watched the man's face as he counted slowly to ten, and as he reached "nine" he saw Kaminski blink. He waited for him to blink a second time, then hurried over to Wilkes and repeated the operation. Smithers realised what he was doing and pulled out his own hypodermic kit. "Which one?" he asked Ron softly. "Blue capsule," Ron said without looking up, and continued his work. He reached Carl and quickly gave him the antidote, waited until he saw him blink three times, patted his shoulder, and went to the next man. By the time the eleventh man had received the antidote Kaminski and Wilkes were sitting up and rubbing their arms and legs, and after some five minutes all the men were standing and taking deep breaths. Carl, still looking dazed, came over slowly to Ron. "Where are we?" he asked. "Apmirra Holiday Resort," Ron answered, "and we're leaving. Grab those children's hands and let's get them out of here." He turned to face the children. "Take each other's hands again," he said, "Like we did before. And be very, very quiet." "But what's going on?" one of the other officers asked. "Tell you later," Ron said. He threw some of the pieces of rope to Smithers. "Do me a favour, Paul," he said, indicating the men in purple jackets, "Make it a little harder for those fellows to move when the stunning wears off." Smithers quickly tied the pieces together and bound the two men's wrists and ankles. Ron divided up the group of children among his men and Carl, told them all to hold hands, and started towards the door. "Let's go," he said. As he got up from tying up the New Protectioners, Smithers caught the hand of the last child, and followed the group out into the hallway. With Ron leading, they made their way past the six red doors to the brown door of the rubbish storage room. Ron opened it wide, stepped back from it, and indicated that they should all go in ahead of him. The men and children crowded into the long, narrow room between the metal bins lining it on both sides. When all were in, Ron also went in, and closed the door behind him. "Smithers, Kaminski," he called softly to the two men nearest him, "Help me get this thing against the door." With his men's help he pushed one of the heavy containers against the door. "That should slow down anyone trying to 209


have a look in here," he said with satisfaction. He pushed his way past the rest of the men and the children to the door leading outside. He opened it slightly, took his pocket phone out, switched it on, and pressed a number. An officer at the Federal Police Headquarters answered his call. "Velasquez here," Ron said softly, "I'm at the resort. Three points. One, we need that non-burnable rubbish collected right now. Two, I've found my missing officers and Mr. Slade. Three, are Mrs. Slade, Mr. Clark, and the Beth-El children all with you?" "Got your three points," the officer answered, "Point three is yes." "Hurry," Ron said, switched off, put the phone away, and closed the door. He turned to look at his companions, and considered the next step. Some of the children were getting restless, and Carl was doing his best to try and calm them. Two of the officers were helping him. Ron remembered that those two men had several children apiece themselves, and was grateful that they were there, though he prayed that they would come to no harm as a result. "All right," he said firmly, "There's no time to lose now. The rubbish will be collected in about five minutes—it's all arranged—and the children have to be part of it. So now I want you men to get these children into the four bins nearest the door and camouflage them as well as you can. Carl, do you think you can explain to these little people just what we're going to do and why they have to keep very quiet?" "I'll do my best," Carl said. He motioned to the children to come closer, and crouched down among them. "We're going to play Hide and Seek now," he told them, "Do you all know how to play? Nod your head like this if you know how to play Hide and Seek." The children all nodded, some enthusiastically, some more slowly, and a few quite uncertainly. "All right, then," Carl said, "We're going to help you get into the bins, and cover you up, and you have to be very, very, very quiet so nobody can find you." He stood up and picked up the nearest child. "Like this," he said, and carried the boy to the bin closest to the door. "In you go. Now be really quiet, okay?" The boy looked up at him and nodded gravely and Carl turned around, picked up one of the girls, and lifted her over into the bin, next to the boy. The other men started to help the rest of the children into the other bins, and when all of them were in they told them to sit down and they spread the covers over the bins and fastened them. A knock on the door made them all jump, but Ron quickly opened it a few centimetres and looked out. The rubbish collecting truck had just arrived and was backed up to the top of the steps. A ramp was let down over the steps from the back of the truck. He pushed the door wide open, and two men came in and pulled the first bin to the door. They fastened two large hooks on cables onto rings on the side of the bin, yanked on one of the cables, and the bin was pulled up the ramp onto the truck. The cables and hooks were lowered again and the next bin was soon hauled up into the truck. Three minutes later, when all four bins were on the truck, Ron told Carl to go with the truck, accompanied his order with a strong push so that

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Carl had no choice but to do as he was told, and as soon as Carl and the two men from the truck were out, shut the door. He turned to the officers remaining with him. "We now have a difficult task ahead of us," he said, "Smithers and I are the only ones with stunners, I'm sure." A quick search through pockets and several nods confirmed his suspicion. "We have to find the leaders of this show and put a stop to their activities. I think I know who's in charge, and who's second in command. They're not the legal managers of the place, but they're the real managers. Kaminski, Wilkes—you know one of them. You can tell me later how it is you ended up his prisoners. Now, I want three of you—Wilkes, Kaminski, and Cartwright—to go with Smithers and the other seven to come with me. Paul, you lot go back to the main building and deal with the legal administration. We'll go and find the hidden administration and do what we can. The rest of the team are somewhere on the grounds, hopefully all well. Help is on the way and should arrive within ten minutes, but what happens in those ten minutes is up to us. Meet up at the front entrance whenever this is over." "You're being optimistic, Sir," Smithers said. "I dare not be pessimistic, Paul," Ron said, very soberly, "The consequences, if we fail, are too horrendous to consider. We have to succeed. Keep that in mind. We have to stop these people."

! ! ! The news broadcasts over the next few days focused on what the Federal Police had discovered and stopped in several cities and centres all over Pamanyungan. The response from the awakened population of the country was far greater than Ron would have expected. The house at Beth-El Farm had not been the only children's home that had been burnt down. Frank and Elsa Helms had lost their home too, and several other such homes had been destroyed, all by the same people. The New Protectioners, so sure were they of their power, had made no secret of the fact that they were responsible for the fires or for the disappearance of a large number of children from the homes and from schools. Several churches had also been destroyed or damaged, and every site bore the purple-and-orange eagle emblem of the Active Wing of the New Protectioners Party. The worst of the New Protectioners' activities, however, were discovered when the police were finally able to raid a chain of holiday resorts around the country. Ron's optimism had not been in vain, and although the battle at the Apmirra resort had been fierce and two of his men and four New Protectioners had lost their lives, the New Protectioners had not been expecting the attack by the Federal Police. Thus they had mostly been taken by surprise, and had found that about half their men had no weapons on them when they came face-to-face with Ron's officers and their stunners. The Federal Police stunners had all been set on "stall" and thus had only temporarily paralysed those against whom they had been used, but the New

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Protectioners who'd had weapons had set them on "kill", ending up killing four of their own men accidentally as well as two of Ron's officers. When it was all over Ron had filed his report, had told those who remained of his men that they had two days off, and himself had disappeared for twenty-four hours. After this time of resting he went to find Carl, who was staying with his family in the Winstons' house. Over biscuits and cups of tea he told Carl everything that had happened after Carl had left on the rubbish collection truck. "It was when we reached the staff residences at the other end of the grounds that they got their biggest jolt," Ron said, "because they didn't know that I would know where to find the leaders. They'd forgotten a couple of details of recent history." "So what did you find in the staff housing?" Carl asked. "David Heathrow and his boss," Ron replied, "Watching the battle on closed-circuit but neglecting to keep an eye on their own front door." "Ah, yes," Carl said, "the man with the ponytail, and the son of exPresident Brent Denson. Like father, like son, unfortunately. The sins of the father visited on the son. Ernest Denson did not learn from his father's mistakes—he simply imitated them." "And some," Ron added, "The New Protectioners were worse than the Old Protectioners. But their self-confidence was their downfall. It didn't take much to overcome them. What we found in the houses was not so easy to cope with, though. It makes me sick every time I think of it." "You mean the pornography they've been going on about at length on the news?" "That, of course, and the other things those people used the children for..." "Ron, do you realise that's what they had in mind for Benjy and Rasesh?" "And any other children they could get their hands on." "Those children we got out of that building?" "Those rooms were where they held them in between visits to resort guests..." "And they drugged them so they'd do as they were told..." "Some of them came from Frank's place. Did you recognise them?" "I couldn't see any of them very well—my eyes were very sore." "Oh, of course—with that drug your eyes stay open but they don't blink. You get dust falling in and it stays there..." "That's certainly what they felt like—as if I had sand in them." "Another twenty-four hours and you'd all have had permanent damage." "I was so glad to see you, Ron! I couldn't do or say anything to show it, but when I saw your face I knew it would turn out all right." "Boy, you had rather a lot of confidence in me, Carl!" "Somebody had to—you looked scared out of your wits." "Trust you to see it—I'd been hoping it didn't show." "From what your men told me, I'd say it didn't show—to them, anyway. They had only admiration for your ability to stay calm, clear-headed, and on top of things." 212


"Well, God's the one to thank for that. I had to pray for all I was worth, the whole time." "The only way to go, Ron—in God's strength." "Still, I'm glad it's over," Ron said, "and the way people are rallying to help out those who lost everything is heartwarming. So much for the New Protectioners. They made the mistake—and I'm thankful they did—of showing their true colours prematurely. It really woke everybody up, all over Pamanyungan." "I don't understand that man, Heathrow, you know," Carl said, "When he first came to Jack's church he seemed to be all out for the Lord. This suggests to me that he had a good knowledge of the truth—and he certainly could quote Scripture back to front!" "That's what's wrong with him, Carl—he uses Scripture back to front. For his own ends, not God's." "But to know God's Word so well and not take it to heart! I can't understand that!" "It's not all that hard to understand. All you have to do is put yourself in focus instead of God, you know. It's easy, then, to read what you want into any Scriptures, or to ignore the ones that don't fit in with what you want." Carl sighed. "I suppose it is. Perhaps it's not too late for Dave to change..." "We can keep hoping. He's certainly going to have plenty of time to think." "Whatever happened to that woman who was always with him—the one who put those eavesdropping devices in our bedroom?" "Ah, this is something you'll like, Carl! Did you wonder at all how I knew my way around the resort?" "In passing, I did, but I didn't think about it much—there was too much going on." "Marion Lester had plenty of time to think, too, in prison. She thought along the right track, though, and this led her to consider why all those people she was supposed to hate did the kind of things they did, such as looking after handicapped children, or preaching about Jesus Christ, or being polite to her even during questioning." "How do you know this?" Carl asked. "She told me," Ron said, "and the other things she told me turned out to be very useful three days ago. Once she knew the Truth and had accepted it for herself, she saw the New Protectioners from a very different perspective. She'd been in prison a while by then, so I was surprised when she asked to speak to me. I didn't know about her change of heart until she told me." "What did she want to tell you?" "All about the resort. She drew maps; she told me details such as how unburnable rubbish is stored and collected; she told me about the children..." "And so you planned a raid." "Well, not exactly. It was that day, when I realised that it was indeed to the resort that my officers had been taken, that I made plans—very much on 213


the spur of the moment. But I'd been studying all the information Marion Lester had given me, and I was very grateful for having had the time to do so. I was even able to organise having a rubbish collection truck ready and waiting down the road from the resort." "There's something that puzzles me. You told me about how you rescued Ben and the boys and how two of your men ran off after Dave Heathrow. How did Dave manage to turn the tables and make them his prisoners?" "Where he ran to was one of the New Protectioners' houses. His purple jacket was visible to the folk inside the house long before he got to it, so that they were ready to pounce on Wilkes and Kaminski as soon as they ran in the door after him. They wasted no time then in getting Heathrow and his prisoners to the resort." "Yes, I saw when they brought them into the room. I wouldn't have recognised Dave, except that he made a point of coming and gloating over me." "Well, he's out of harm's way now, and where he can't do any more harm. And as you know, the Deputy Minister for Transport, Ernest Denson, is also having a long holiday at government expense. That should teach him to invest in holiday resorts and to use government equipment for his own purposes. It should also teach him that perversion doesn't pay." "Oh, boy, Ron, I can't believe it, even though I know it's happened throughout history and it was happening at all those resorts—that people could use children, and handicapped children, at that, in such perverse fashion. Despite my background as an Old Protectioner, despite my knowing how evil people can be, I can't believe that they'd do things like that." "The world is full of unimaginable evils, Carl. In my line of work one comes across it all too often—the important thing to remember, isn't it, is that despite appearances God is still Lord over His creation and evil can never triumph in the end." "That's right. D'you know, Ron, when we saw the news report about the arrests, Benjy happened to be in the room. He watched for a moment, and he saw Dave as they were taking him into the prison. He recognised him, despite the ponytail, would you believe! He pointed at the viewer, and yelled 'Misser'ow!' and then looked at me, and said, 'Scared, Daddy', and I told him that Mr. Heathrow was locked away now and wouldn't be able to scare him any more. I told him that Mr. Heathrow doesn't know Jesus and that we'd have to pray for him. Do you know what Benjy did?" "I can guess." "Is your guess that he knelt down then and there, by my knee, and prayed for Dave?" "That's what I figured. That's your son Benjy. I think you said something earlier that applies here too, Carl. Like father, like son." "I don't know that I've ever so readily knelt down and prayed for someone who hated me the way Dave hates Benjy, Ron. I've a lot to learn from Benjy." Ron patted him on the shoulder. "I won't take back what I said, Carl, but go ahead with the lessons. It can only do you good."

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"And the way people are really wanting to help us is heart warming, Ron. When I remember some of the nasty things that went on when we started our home... It's sad that it had to burn down before people woke up to the fact that handicapped children are people like everyone else, who need love and care and encouragement just like everyone else..." Ron got up from his seat and went to get his briefcase. "Which reminds me," he said, "There's something in here that I brought to give you, so I'd better do that now before I forget." "What is it?" Carl asked. "This," Ron said, and handed him a large zippered envelope. Carl unzipped the envelope and looked inside. His face paled, and he put in his hand and drew out the melted remains of his flute. He stared at it for a moment. "Where did you find this?" he asked. "I visited Beth-El Farm this morning," Ron said, "and I was reminiscing away to myself as I walked around the ash-heap that was once your house, when I caught a glimpse of something glinting in the sunlight. I got a stick to poke around with and found that. I looked for Andrew's flute but I couldn't see any trace of it." "Andrew's flute was being repaired," he said, "It wasn't at home." He stared again at the barely-recognisable remains of his own instrument. "I doubt that this one can be repaired..." he murmured. "Get it framed, or something," Ron said, "We'll get you a new one." "I'd had this one since 2018, Ron." "Well, it was time you got yourself a new one, then. Now you have a reason to do so. And don't tell me you can't afford it, because I can. So you've no excuse not to get one." "Well, it's probably not a high priority..." "It's definitely a high priority, Carl! I want you to stay sane, and I also want to hear you playing! You need a flute, Carl, and if you don't make getting one a top priority I'll trump up some charges and arrest you. Then I'll force a flute on you!" Carl grinned at his friend. "I get the message, Inspector," he said, "and I'll take you up on your offer, because it's true that at the moment I can't afford that kind of an expense. I have a house to rebuild." "That house will be rebuilt, Carl—don't you worry about it. There are hundreds of people out there who want your house rebuilt and are prepared to contribute. I just want to make sure you'll provide us all with music to rebuild by."

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CHAPTER 22 Ron had been right—when news spread, by word of mouth, that the house at Beth-El Farm, and the other children's homes that had been destroyed or damaged, were to be rebuilt, contributions towards the cost of rebuilding began flooding in. Carl was amazed to find that the incidents had not only triggered a reaction of shock and dismay among the people of his country, they had stirred up their interest in and concern for the handicapped and disabled. The public had also been awakened to what the New Protectioners were really up to, and the general feeling had turned against them. People from all over Apmirra and from other areas came to help rebuild the house at Beth-El Farm. Carl, Ben, and Andrew worked with them, first, at clearing the debris from the fire, and then at slowly re-designing the building so it would not only be a comfortable home and large enough but also more easily accessible to the physically handicapped. One morning they worked at sorting some of the materials for the rebuilding, Carl checking off items on a list as Ben called them out. During a break, as they waited for the next truckful of materials to be unloaded, they discussed the change in the public's attitude. "I must say I never expected so many people to rally around the way they have," Carl said, "For so many years it seemed that only a handful of folk really cared what happened to those who were handicapped in some ways. But the way people've been so eager to help is heartwarming. They really were shocked at what'd been going on. They'd no idea the New Protectioners were doing those things and it really shook them." Ben shrugged. "It won't last, of course," he said pessimistically, "A few years will go by and the memory of the kidnappings, the perversions, and the destruction will fade, and people will once again let them build up power." Carl was taken aback by his gloomy outlook. "Why do you say that?" he asked, "People are certainly not about to let the New Protectioners get a foot in the door in Parliament right now." "That's it—right now they're not," Ben replied, "but let the months go by, let inflation rise, let unemployment increase, let things get more difficult, and you'll see where people's hearts really are—in their own interests. The handicapped will once again become burdens. Only a complete change of heart can make a lasting difference, Carl—you know that!" "Well, there's only one way to change people's hearts," Carl said, "and people can only find out about it if they're told. With the New Protectioners and their campaign against believers out of the way—at least for now—the biggest obstacle to the Gospel is the apathy and sense of well-being in the church itself. We need to fight that."

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"Well, the fight's been on for some time," Ben said, "It's not as if you'd stopped sharing the Gospel or Jack had stopped praying—despite his own disabilities." "There's so few of us praying and telling others, though. The church's got comfortable again and that's dangerous. Now's the time to get people out of their comfy homes and out there sharing Christ's love—not only in words, in action, too!" "Yeah, like the group from South Apmirra who discovered all those elderly folk who were living in an abandoned warehouse..." "That's right. They didn't wait to find out if it was okay with the town council to take those people into their own homes—they just went ahead and did it." "I've got to admit I thought it was pretty brave of them to do that." "But when the council found out, they couldn't really complain about it, could they? After all, they were the ones who'd closed down all the facilities for the elderly, saying that they didn't have enough funds to keep them going." "So those people were actually helping them out, of course," Ben said, "Helping the council, I mean." "On top of that, they were all believers, and none of the old people were," Carl said, "The Christians were able to tell them about Jesus because they were living out His love. It was an inspiration to me to hear how those folk went and put their faith into action." "One of them said he'd been inspired by Beth-El Farm. Did you know that?" "No. That's news to me. But I'm glad to hear it, and I hope they'll inspire others too. That's how the Word is spread—by living it out." "This may sound like changing the subject," Ben said, "but it isn't, really. Andrew said something interesting to me yesterday. He was helping me to sort out some of the things we've got stored in the barn, and he came across the old curtains from the camper. You know—the ones that were used to hide the double berth, and the ones from the bunkbeds." "I didn't know we still had those!" Carl exclaimed, "We haven't had the camper for years now." "Andrew said he'd like to have them in his bedroom when the house is finished," Ben said, "He said that way they'd remind him every day of when we all went about the country telling people about Jesus. He said he wished we could do that again, because so many people don't know about Him." Carl smiled wistfully. "D'you remember how Andrew would go with me now and then and listen to me preaching?" he said, "When I asked him once why he enjoyed coming with me, he told me he never got tired of hearing about what God has done to save people from sin and death." Ben grinned at him. "He told me more than once that he wanted to be like his father," he said, "He wanted to love Jesus the way you do. He also said that he hoped God would find him a wife who loves Jesus the way his mother does." "Some people would say Andrew's obsessed," Carl said quietly. 217


"Or brainwashed by his parents," Ben added, "Actually, someone did say exactly that to him one time when we were shopping together, about a year ago. I don't know if I ever told you about that. Someone who obviously knew about you and about your family came up to Andrew and asked him if he believed all that religious nonsense his father was always spouting." "Phew! What did Andrew say to that?" "He looked at the man for a moment—you know how he does that—and then he said very quietly that it was definitely not nonsense, that he himself had known Jesus Christ since he was four years old, and that he would be happy to tell him all about Jesus and what He has done for him. The man just dismissed that by telling him his parents had obviously brainwashed him and that there ought to be a law against that." "Did Andrew have an answer to that?" "Mmmm. He told the fellow that it had been his own decision to believe Christ, not something forced on him by his parents. He said that now and then he'd have doubts and then he'd have to examine the whole question himself. Every time he'd done that he'd come to the conclusion that what God says in the Bible is the truth, and Jesus Christ is alive and at work in his life." "Well, and how did the man react to that?" "He looked skeptical, but then he asked Andrew to tell him what God says in the Bible." "What did Andrew do?" "He started telling him the Gospel, of course!" "And what were you doing, all that time?" "Praying like mad. I was standing on the other side of the shelves, in the next aisle. I'd been trying to decide on which size container of something or other—I forget what—we needed to get, but after two minutes I'd quite given up and I was listening to Andrew and this bloke and praying. I could just see the two of them through the crack in between the boxes on the shelf." "What happened then?" Carl asked. "The man told Andrew that he'd have to think about all that, but that he had an appointment and he had to go—I suppose he must've looked at his watch. Then he thanked Andrew and left. When I was sure he'd gone I came round to Andrew's side of the shelves. 'You handled that well,' I said, and he just smiled. Then after a moment he said, 'Thanks for your prayers, Uncle Ben. We'd better finish the shopping—Mum's waiting for us.' So we did, and went home. I'll bet you anything Andrew's never stopped praying for that man, though."

! ! ! The house took over six months to rebuild, and by the time it was finished, Carl could see that Ben's prediction about the people of Pamanyungan was already being fulfilled. Once the house was finished and the Slades and their charges had moved back in, most people quickly lost

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interest in it. Within six months of Beth-El Farm being 'back to normal' its supporters were down to more or less the same original small group of people. The Helms and others involved in similar work were finding the same state of affairs in their area. Taxes had gone up again, the rate of unemployment was rising, and inflation was rearing its greedy head. As Ben had foreseen, the handicapped were once again being looked on as burdens on society's back and society was showing signs of wanting to wipe its hands of them. Carl, Emma, and Ben didn't spend much time worrying about the situation, however, for they had their hands full with their "extended family" and its variety of problems. Life at Beth-El Farm continued as before, with the training of the children and young people in both the details of farming and those of their spiritual walk. As they had been doing for many years now, Carl and Ben spent an hour together in Bible study and prayer each morning, and then led a devotional time for the young men and the boys. When Jack's condition had improved sufficiently for him to be able to visit the farm, Rose would drive him there and they would spend the day with the household. Jack would then lead the morning devotional. Emma and Linda, a young woman who was moderately handicapped, held a similar devotional time for the girls, and Rose would help with that on the days when Jack and she were visiting. After the prayer time, those who attended school left for town, and the rest of the household set to work on their various tasks around the farm. The months went by and the children who had become permanent residents at Beth-El Farm were growing up. Megan Kelly had ended up staying at the farm, and her mother had finally suggested that it might be better if the Slades adopted her, because she didn't want her back. At the height of the community's sympathetic feelings towards the handicapped it had actually been very straightforward for Carl and Emma to adopt Megan legally. The girl had already been calling them 'Dad' and 'Mum' for years by then. As far as she was concerned they had been her parents ever since her arrival at Beth-El Farm. Her own brothers and sisters had never expressed interest in seeing her again, and although once in a while she asked about them, after some time she didn't really seem to remember them very clearly. Jack's health had improved considerably after his stroke, but he'd never recovered completely from it. His speech was slow and slurred, and he'd had to give up preaching, much to his congregation's dismay. His left side continued semi-paralysed and most of the time he needed a wheelchair in order to be able to get around. He was no longer pastoring his little church in Apmirra, but had handed over that role to one of the Elders. Almost five years after his stroke, however, he continued to be an encouragement to the believers in the capital, and a few people close to him knew that he spent several hours each day in prayer. Ron's friendship with Jack had deepened after Ron had resigned the presidency, and now that Jack had more time available the two men made a point of spending an hour or two together several times each week to talk, read the Bible, and pray together. 219


"The two of them have a hilarious time of it for the first half hour," Rose once commented to Emma, "You know Ron and his wild wit. And then for the rest of the time, it's as if the weight of the world had been dumped on their shoulders. After the first few times of hearing them pray—they were in the lounge and I was in the kitchen trying to make tea—I decided that there was no way I could just keep working as normal while they prayed. So when they stop laughing I go off to our bedroom and I start praying too." "Does Jack know that?" Emma asked. "Oh, yes. I told him the first time. I had to explain why tea wasn't ready! He said he was really happy about it, even if it meant we didn't have tea at all that day." "Trust Jack. Did he tell Ron?" "Yes, of course he did." "What did Ron say?" Emma asked. "Nothing," Rose answered, "He just gave me a hug." Emma smiled, and also hugged her sister-in-law. "There are times," she said, "when Ron is at a loss for words. It underlines the fact that God's blessed him with wisdom too." That evening as Carl and she prepared for bed Emma mentioned her conversation with Rose. "Ron's changed, hasn't he?" she said finally, "Once upon a time he'd have said something funny, not just hugged Rose." "His experience in the presidency sobered him up a lot, Em. And then that awful business with the New Protectioners really hit him hard," Carl replied, "He thought he'd seen everything during the Protectorate and in his career as Inspector and his time in government, you know. Then with the New Protectioners he saw that evil has even more and uglier faces than the thousands he'd already seen. But what hit him the hardest was to see evil presenting itself as zealous for Jesus Christ." "Dave Heathrow, you mean?" "Uh-huh. He'd first come across Dave in Brown's Reef, remember? Dave was supposedly preaching the Gospel the way I'd done when we travelled around, and Ron had listened to him preaching one evening. He was impressed by Dave's preaching, but not entirely comfortable with it. He told me that there was something about Dave—he couldn't pinpoint it—that made him a little wary, even then." "It was Benjy's reaction to Dave that really got Ron on the alert, wasn't it?" "That's right, but he wasn't prepared for what it led to, and what he found in the end really shook him. He realised that he'll never be able to anticipate what evil will do next, and he's become completely helpless, as it were." "You mean—completely dependent on God." "Of course. Just like Benjy, you know." "Only, with Benjy it's almost instinctive—he simply knows right through that he depends on God, almost without being conscious of it. With Ron, it was a conscious choice."

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"And a joyful one. He told me he had the most incredible sense of relief when he finally admitted that Ron Velasquez had come to the limit of his abilities." "Yet Ron's always been dependent on the Lord," Emma said. "But," Carl pointed out, "as he said himself, not completely. He told me that he finally realised that by depending so much on his own skills he was missing out on the infinity of God's wisdom."

! ! ! Early in January 2055, Andrew came to talk to Emma one morning before going off to school. He had a wide grin on his face and his blue eyes were dancing. "Do you know what Benjy said to me this morning, Mum?" he asked. "Something amusing, from the look of you," Emma replied, "Come on, tell me." "He really floored me," Andrew said, "I'd never have expected it from him." "What did he say?" "He said that Uncle Jack is like Jesus." "Oh." Emma gazed at her son a moment. Andrew had been close to his brother ever since Benjy's birth, and Benjy often confided things to his older brother that he didn't share with anyone else. Partly, of course, that was because Andrew could understand his defective speech better than anyone else could, but it was also because Andrew took him very seriously. Now, at seventeen, Andrew might be expected to be somewhat impatient with an almost eleven-year-old mentally handicapped brother whom he was always rescuing from some innocent mischief. Only two months before, with his friend Rasesh, two years older, Benjy had decided to paint the back porch. It was Andrew who'd discovered the pair of them covered from head to toe in brown paint, and Andrew who'd helped Carl to clean up both the boys and the porch. Benjy adored Andrew. He loved his father, but he adored his elder brother. "What made him say that? Do you know?" Emma asked. "Not really. Dad had just mentioned that Uncle Jack was planning to be here tomorrow, and Benjy shouted 'Unklshack!' as always, and clapped his hands—you know the way he does that. Then he turned and looked out the window—in my room, looking towards the front gate—and he gave a great big sigh. He just turned around to face me, then, and said that—that Uncle Jack is like Jesus." "Did you ask him what he meant?" "Yes, and he said that Jesus is all shiny like a light and all happy like Uncle Jack." Four weeks later, Jack Winston had another massive stroke, and this time he did not survive. When the phone buzzed that morning, Benjy suddenly ran into the study and hugged his mother fiercely. Carl was just picking up the receiver.

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Emma put her arm around her son's shoulder. "What's the matter, Benjy?" she asked him. "Unklshack, Mummy," Benjy said softly, "Unklshack." "What about Uncle Jack?" she asked. At that moment Carl tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to him. His face was quite white. "Jack's gone, Em," he said softly. She stood staring at him, unable to say a word, and he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He handed her the receiver. "It's Ron," he said. "H-Hello, Ron," Emma stammered. "Emma, Jack had another stroke early this morning," Ron said gently, "He never recovered consciousness. He was dead before he reached the hospital." Emma had an odd sensation of unreality. She had to swallow hard before she could respond to his words. She gripped Benjy's shoulder a little harder, and the boy wriggled until she loosened her hold. "How's Rose doing, Ron?" she asked. "She's all right, Emma," Ron said, "She's in a bit of shock, but she's all right. Obviously it'd be good if you two can come over as soon as possible. Can Ben take charge of things there?" "Of course, Ron," Emma said, "We'll be right over." She handed the receiver back to Carl and hid her face on his shoulder. Carl hugged her more tightly. "I'll call you back in a little while, Ron," he said into the receiver, "Will you be at Rose's?" "Yes, I'll stay here until Jemima and Paul get here. Possibly even after they get here. Depends on how Rose feels." "Okay, I'll get back to you, then." Carl put the receiver down and put his arm around Benjy's shoulder. Benjy looked up at him, wonder on his face. "Unklshack, Daddy," he said softly. "Uncle Jack's gone to Jesus, Benjy," Carl said. "Jesus," Benjy echoed, and smiled. Then he noticed that Emma was shaking. "Mummy cry?" he asked. "Yes, Benjy," Carl said, his own voice cracking, "Mummy's crying." He swallowed hard and hugged Emma harder. "Benjy," he said, "Go and get Uncle Ben." Benjy pulled away from their arms and hurried to do as his father had asked. "Unklbeeeeen!" he shouted as he ran out of the study. Carl put both arms around his wife and hid his face in her hair. His own tears were flowing now, for the fact that Jack was dead had hit him forcefully when he'd told Benjy that Uncle Jack was with Jesus. It was Jack who'd shown him Jesus Christ, so many years ago when he was still a Police Counsellor searching for the Truth. And Jack had been his closest friend ever since Emma and he had decided to stay in what was then the justended Protectorate and Jack had made him apprentice-pastor in his house church.

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After a few moments Emma pulled away from him. "Let's sit down, Carl," she said, and led the way to the sofa. She sat down and Carl took his seat next to her. "I can't believe it," she whispered, "I feel like this is a bad dream from which I might wake up any minute." "I know what you mean," Carl said, putting his arm around her again, "I feel that way myself." "I mean, I've always known—in my head, anyway—that Jack would die some day, especially after he had that stroke five years ago. The likelihood of his having another one, and dying from it, was very high, of course, but somehow I guess I didn't really believe it would happen..." "Uh-huh..." The study door opened and Ben came in hurriedly. He stopped abruptly when he saw Carl and Emma's tear-stained faces looking up at him. "Uh... Benjy said you wanted me to come," he said slowly, "Uh, is something the matter?" "Jack died this morning," Emma said, "Ron just rang to tell us." "He had another stroke," Carl added. "Oh," Ben said, and sat down heavily on the nearest chair, "That's why Benjy kept saying 'Unklshack, Jesus', is it?" "Carl told him Uncle Jack had gone to be with Jesus," Emma explained. "Jack's gone..." Ben murmured. "Ron asked if we could go over to Rose's right away," Carl said, "D'you reckon you can take charge of things here for today?" Ben sighed deeply, then straightened up. "No problem," he said firmly, "The volunteers are here and there's plenty to do to keep everyone out of mischief." Then he sagged again, and leant back against the chair. "Jack's gone..." he said softly, "His time in prison's over..." "I guess we ought to be glad for him," Emma said, "but all I can think of is that big empty space he's left behind..." Carl sighed, got up slowly, and went to the phone. He pressed in the Winstons' number and waited for the light to flash. When it did, he picked up the receiver. "Is that you, Ron?" he asked. "Yes, Carl," Ron's voice answered, "Are you coming over?" "We're leaving now," Carl replied, "We'll pick up Andrew and Helen from school on the way." "Bring Benjy, too," Ron said, "Rose asked specifically for him. She said she wants to see at least one person smiling for Jack instead of crying." Carl caught his breath. Yes, Rose knew her nephew very well, didn't she? "Will do," he said, "See you in little while, Ron."

! ! ! Ron and Carl had made all the arrangements for the funeral, and had obtained permission to have the service held in Apmirra Park, for they had guessed that there would be a very large crowd. As it was summer they had

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also known that it would not be likely to rain, so that an open-air service would be possible. Benjy had been like a bright light all through the day, and Rose and Emma had kept him near them as much as possible, for despite the heaviness of their hearts from missing Jack, they'd wanted to be reminded that this was a time for rejoicing because he was truly Home. Helen and Andrew had taken turns helping with the other children and keeping track of Benjy. At a quiet moment after the service and before the trip to the cemetery, Benjy, who was sitting with Andrew at that point, looked up at his brother. "Unklshack?" he asked. Andrew understood his question. "Where's Uncle Jack?" He took a deep breath before answering Benjy. "Uncle Jack is with Jesus, Benjy," he said softly. Benjy considered this answer a moment, then he took Andrew's hand and pulled him over to the coffin. He pointed to the box and looked up at Andrew again. Earlier that morning, at the Winston home, he'd watched as Jack's body had been placed in the coffin. "Unklshack sleep?" he asked. Andrew put his arm around his brother's shoulders. "No, Benjy," he said, "Uncle Jack isn't sleeping. He's wide awake and he's with Jesus. That's not Uncle Jack in there. That's just his body. That was for while he was here on earth with us. Uncle Jack isn't in there. He's in heaven. He can move again, and he can talk again, and I'll bet you he's singing better than he ever did down here." "Sing? Unklshack sing?" Benjy asked, "Sing for Jesus?" "That's right, Benjy," Andrew said, "Just like we did, except better." Benjy stared at the box a moment, then he turned around and gazed at the flower beds and the Lake beyond them. He turned back to Andrew and smiled happily. "Unklshack happy," he said, and spread his arms wide, "Happy like this. You happy? Andoo?" Andrew gazed at his brother and wished he had such a simple acceptance of Truth. He loved Jesus Christ, and he had joy deep down in his heart despite the sadness of Jack's death, but he couldn't take himself out of the picture the way Benjy could. Or could he? Uncle Jack's with Jesus, he said to himself, He's supremely happy; he was a tremendous blessing to everyone while he lived; God decided it was time for him to rest from all that he went through down here. Why shouldn't I be happy? Of course we'll miss him, but everything about his memory is good, and even Aunt Rose wants us to be happy. If I stop thinking about how much I miss Uncle Jack, then it's not really difficult to be happy about his dying. "Benjy," he said softly, squeezing his brother's shoulder, "Yes, I'm happy. Are you?" Benjy laughed. "Happy!" he said, and hugged Andrew tightly. Again he looked up at his brother, his face serious. "Benjy sleep? Sing for Jesus?" he asked. "One day," Andrew replied, "You'll leave your body like Uncle Jack did, and you'll be with Jesus and singing for Him too." 224


"Talk like you? Run like Daddy?" Benjy asked, "Write like Helen?" Andrew swallowed hard. Now and then Benjy would let him know that he was well aware of his disabilities, though he never seemed worried by them nor envious of those who were not handicapped. He simply accepted that he was as he was and that's how God had allowed him to be, and that was fine with him. It didn't stop him making the most of what abilities he had. He was content. He was happy. He believed God. And God had said—Andrew himself had read it to him from the Bible many times, for it was one of Benjy's favourite passages—that one day there would be no more sickness, no more pain, no more crying. One day—"When we're all with Jesus," Andrew had explained—everything would be just the way God had planned it to be before He'd made everything and before Adam and Eve had sinned. And Benjy knew that meant that he would no longer be handicapped by Down's syndrome. "You'll be perfect, Benjy," Andrew said softly, "in every way." Not just on the inside, like you almost are now, he added to himself, but on the outside, too. Yes, you'll be able to talk well, and run smoothly, and do all those creative things you struggle with now. "Won't it be wonderful?" he said out loud. "Wonerfoo," Benjy said, grinning, and he took Andrew's hand, patted the coffin gently with his other hand, and turned to lead his brother back to the rest of the family.

! ! ! A few months after Jack's death, Rose asked Carl and Emma if they would be able to let her come and live at Beth-El Farm with them. "I'm finding living by myself far too lonely," she said, "and as it is I'm spending most of my waking hours at the farm, anyway. Would you have enough room?" Carl told her that they would be delighted to have her move to the farm. "There's plenty of room, Rose," he said, "and it's true that you're here all day anyway, so you might as well save yourself all that travelling back and forth. We all certainly appreciate your help and your cheerfulness, and it would be a blessing to have you living here. I know Emma would love to have her sister here all the time." "Well, I'm not really her sister, of course," Rose said apologetically, "It's just that I was her brother's wife." "Nonsense," Emma said, "You've been a sister to me ever since you invited me to live with you and Jack all those years ago before I ever met Carl, when the Protection government had kicked me out of Mum and Dad's house. I'd love it if you came to live at the farm, and so would the children."

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CHAPTER 23 "Mum!" Helen called as she came into the kitchen of the farmhouse and hung her bag up behind the door, "Have I got some exciting news!" Emma slowly turned from the sink, where she had been scrubbing potatoes, to look at her daughter. Tucking back a stray lock of brown hair which had got in her eye, she smiled warmly at Helen. "It must be very special news to make you bound in here like that!" she said. A small, curly-haired, blond young woman with a round face and almond-shaped blue eyes was sitting at the table carefully chopping vegetables. She looked up at Helen with a wide grin on her face. "What news? What news?" she asked excitedly. "Wonderful news, Megan," Helen answered, giving her a quick hug, "but I'd like to tell Mum first, okay? You can listen, though." "Okay," Megan said, grinning happily. Emma stood by the sink with her arms crossed, feigning cheerful impatience. "Well, tell me this news, then," she said, "You're acting as if all your birthdays have come at once." Helen put her arms around her mother's waist. "Mum," she said, "You know how I've prayed for years about the man God wants me to marry? Ever since I was fifteen?" "Of course," Emma replied, smiling, "Are you telling me he's finally made his appearance in your life?" "Oh, Mum, he has!" Helen exclaimed, "He has!" She kissed her mother on the cheek, then waltzed her around the kitchen, much to Megan's delight. Emma had to sit down when Helen stopped, but she was laughing with Megan, and Helen laughed too. Finally Emma caught her breath sufficiently to ask Helen who the man might be. "His name is Altah," Helen replied happily, "He's a graduate student in vet science and he's doing research on the diseases of dairy cattle." "Altah? That's an unusual name," Emma remarked, "What's his background?" Helen sat down at the table, suddenly more subdued. "Uh... He's from Mongolia, Mum," she said, a little uncertainly. "Is he a Christian?" Emma asked with concern. "Oh, yes, of course he is, Mum," she answered, a tinge of annoyance in her voice, "You know I'd never consider marrying a non-Christian. Besides, I've just told you—this is the man! I know." "What man?" her father's voice asked. Carl had heard the tail-end of Helen's statement as he'd walked into the kitchen. "What do you know with such certainty?" he asked her. Helen turned to greet him. "Hi, Dad," she said, "The man I'm to marry, Dad. He's finally found!" Carl leant his tall frame against the pantry doorjamb and scratched his head, his blue eyes twinkling above his grin. "Why? Was he lost?" he joked,

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but his daughter wasn't amused and her face showed it. His face became serious. "Sorry, Helen," he apologised, "I couldn't resist that. So, who is this man who is going to be my son-in-law, then?" "His name is Altah, he's Mongolian, and he's a doctoral student in vet science," Helen said all in a rush. Carl raised his eyebrows. "Is he a believer?" he asked. "Oh, Dad! Of course he is!" Helen exclaimed in exasperation, "You know I wouldn't consider a non-believer for a husband!" Carl put a hand over his daughter's hand. "I'm sorry, Helen, I do know that. I shouldn't have asked the question," he said gently. He gazed intently at her. "You say you're sure this is the man God wants you to marry?" he asked. "Yes, Dad," Helen said firmly. "How long have you known him?" Emma asked. "Three weeks. Since the beginning of term," Helen said very softly, and hurriedly added, "He's coming over this evening—he wants to meet you and Dad." "Coming for tea?" Megan asked. "No, after tea," Helen replied, "Sorry, Meg—I forgot you were there. I've got a boyfriend, Meg. He's... uh... different." "Good looker?" Megan asked brightly. "Uh... I don't know," Helen said hesitantly, "I guess he's good-looking." She glanced helplessly at Emma. "Megan," Emma smiled, "The man one loves is always good-looking, no matter what anyone else thinks." "Huh?" Megan said. She didn't understand. "Why?" she added, then shrugged and returned to her vegetable-chopping, not waiting for an answer. "Never mind, Meg," Carl said, "If Helen says Altah's handsome, then he must be. Anyway, we'll see for ourselves this evening, won't we?" "Yes, yes, 's evening," Megan agreed cheerfully, "See Helen's boyfriend." Helen got up and gave Megan another hug. "You'll have to tell me what you think of him, Meg," she said. "Yes, yes," Megan said absently, concentrating on chopping a carrot into small chunks. "Uh... Helen, did you tell him about our extended family?" Emma asked. "Well... some," Helen said slowly, "I told him that we have a lot of people living in our house..." "Did you tell him what kind of people?" Carl asked. "Well... I said they're adults and children, and not just immediate family..." "But did you tell him they all have Down's, Helen?" Emma asked pointedly. Helen was absent-mindedly playing with Megan's curls. "No, Mum, I didn't," she replied. "Hey, leave me hair alone!" Megan said indignantly, pulling sharply at Helen's own long, wavy, brown hair.

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Helen hurriedly patted Megan's curls back into place. "Sorry, Meg, I wasn't thinking," she said. "Hmpf," Megan grunted. "Why didn't you warn him?" Carl asked, his smile and the twinkle in his eyes telling Helen that he guessed her reason. "I want to see his reaction when he meets our 'family'," Helen said, "It's very important." Carl put an arm around his daughter. "If this is the man," he said, "he'll have no problem with them at all." "On the other hand," Emma warned, "we'd better tell the family we're having a guest after tea or we'll have a problem! They need to be reminded to be on their best behaviour." "Don't worry, Mum," Helen said, "I'll tell them at tea-time. I'll go set the table now." Emma sighed deeply and watched her daughter wistfully as she left the kitchen. She got up from the table and Carl came over to her. "Did you think the day would never come, Em?" he asked, grinning and winking at her, "Our eldest is preparing to leave the nest..." He hugged her and kissed her cheek. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?" He sighed too, walked over to the window and looked out pensively at the garden. "I'm curious to meet this man Altah..." he said quietly. "I admit to being floored when she said he's Mongolian," Emma said, "For some reason I always assumed our children would marry someone of their own race." Carl chuckled, remembering their friend George Newman and his Chinese wife Mei Li, Will Newman and his Black wife Denise, and their younger Black friend Ed and his white wife Stephanie. "Like George did, you mean?" he asked, "Or Will? Mei Li and Denise would be amused to hear you, Em. And what about Ed, if you want someone closer to Helen's generation— Stephanie's white, after all. I never got the impression that she minds Ed's being Black..." Emma laughed. "I don't really mind," she said, "You know that. Well, at least, I don't think I do. It's just that I never thought of it." A short, chubby boy in his mid-teens, his light brown hair in disarray, came into the room. He went straight to Carl and hugged him fiercely. "Daddy, Andoo home?" he asked, "Andoo home?" "No, Benjy," Carl replied, hugging him back, "Andrew's still out. He'll be home soon, though. How about you wait for him on the porch and tell him that we'll have a visitor after tea tonight?" Benjamin's brown almond eyes opened wide. "Visitor? After tea?" he asked eagerly, "Who, Daddy? Who after tea?" "A friend of Helen's," Emma told him. "Oh," Benjamin said, "Friend. Helen's. After tea. Tell Andoo. Okay." He shuffled out to the hall, concentrating hard on this message for his elder brother. "Well, I'd better get on with cooking," Emma said, patting Carl's arm, "From Mongolia... I wonder if this lad ever gets homesick... He's a long way 228


from home. We'll have to make him feel welcome here, especially if he's as serious about Helen as she seems to think he is. I wonder what kind of food he likes." "Oh, dear," Carl teased, "You haven't even met the fellow and you're mothering him already!" "Oh, go mow the lawn or something!" Emma laughed, ruffling his hair. He grinned, combed his hazel-brown hair back roughly with his fingers, kissed her, and went out chuckling. Megan pushed her chair back from the table noisily and stood up. "Mow lawn, Dad! Mow lawn!" she shouted after him, then turned to Emma and handed her the bowl full of chopped vegetables. "Veggies ready, Mum," she said more quietly. "Thanks, Megan," Emma said, "Please go and tell the others to get ready for tea, won't you?" Megan grinned. "Yes, Mum," she said, and went out the back door calling out, "Teatime! Teatime!"

! ! ! There was a certain amount of excitement around the dinner table after Helen announced their expected guest to the household. Besides Carl and Emma and their three children and Ben, there were five adults with Down's syndrome and five children with the same condition between the ages of four and twelve around the large table. It was a noisy gathering even as they prayed together before the meal. Ben asked Helen how she'd met Altah. "He's my tutor for the animal physiology course, Uncle Ben," she explained, "We've been having lunch together every day almost since the beginning of the course." "Whose idea was that?" Andrew asked, grinning. "His, actually," Helen said, defensively, "Did you think I'd be that bold, to go and ask my tutor to have lunch with me?" "Well, you are pretty bold, you know," Andrew teased. Helen scowled at him and turned to Carl. "Dad, do you think we could lock Andrew up while Altah is here?" she asked mischievously. Carl looked suitably horrified. "Lock Andrew up?" he echoed, "And how long do you think Benjy would wait before letting him out?" "Besides, you need your brother to keep an eye on you," Andrew said importantly. "Oh, dear," Ben said, looking up at the ceiling, "Brotherly love." The others at the table were mystified by this repartee, and Emma thought it was time to intervene. "Shall we get on with eating?" she asked, "We want to be ready when Altah arrives." When the meal was over everyone pitched in to clear the table. Andrew and twenty-year-old Teddy got busy with the dishwashing while the older girls got the younger children ready for bed. When everyone was ready, the

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family assembled in the living room. Helen sat down on the sofa next to her mother and tried to be calm. At about half past seven the door buzzer sounded. Helen jumped, and Emma gave her a quick hug. "Don't be nervous, Helen," she said, "Remember we've prayed together about this meeting." As usual, Benjamin had run to the door before anyone could stop him, and he slid the front door open as Andrew walked up behind him. A tall young Asian, a bookbag slung over his shoulder, stood outside on the porch. He held a bouquet in one hand. He smiled at Benjamin, who held out his hand, and then shook the boy's hand warmly. "You. Helen's boyfriend. You come in," Benjamin said eagerly. He still held onto Altah's hand and was tugging at him to pull him into the house. Altah's smile became somewhat confused. Andrew came to the rescue. "Hello," he said, shaking Altah's hand when Benjamin finally let go, "Please come in. We're all expecting you." "Thank you," Altah replied, walking through the door. He caught sight of Helen as she came into the hall from the living room, followed by her parents. His face lit up and his smile broadened as she walked towards him. "Good evening, Helen," he said quietly. "Hello, Altah," Helen said softly, feeling suddenly uncharacteristically shy. She took his hand and smiled, and indicated Carl and Emma. "These are my parents, Altah—Emma and Carl Slade. "It is an honour to meet you," Altah said, shaking hands with Carl and bowing to Emma before handing her the flowers. "Have you met my brothers, Andrew and Benjamin?" Helen asked, indicating the two young men. "Yes, with pleasure," Altah replied, bowing to them. "Please come into the living room and have a seat," Emma invited. As Helen's family and Altah entered the lounge the other members of the household stood up and greeted him in unison. "Helloooo, Altaaah," they chorused. It was all Carl could do to keep himself from laughing at the look on Altah's face. Helen looked momentarily anxious, but relaxed when Altah responded to their greeting with a broad smile and a loud, "Good evening, everyone!" The two youngest children came over to Altah and Helen and took hold of their free hands to pull them over to one of the sofas. "Thit down," Angela lisped through the gap in her front teeth. Joseph emphasized her invitation by tugging on Altah's arm. The two young people obeyed and sat down side by side on the sofa. Altah had become conscious that Carl had been watching him carefully, and he looked up at him, grinned, and winked. Carl smiled back at him warmly. Altah swept his arm around to indicate the group gathered in the lounge. "So this is your 'extended family', is it?" he asked Helen in amazement. "Yes, more or less," Helen answered happily, "More, because sometimes there are more, and less, because sometimes there are fewer of them."

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"Let me introduce them to you," Andrew offered, and indicated each person that he named, "My younger brother, Benjamin, then Megan, Teddy, Rasesh, Angela, Anna, Betsy, Hugo, David, Linda, and the youngest of the bunch, Joseph." "Okay, children, time for bed!" Linda clapped her hands, "Say goodnight and off we go!" There was a prolonged session of hugging and kissing all the adults including Altah, then the five children were led out of the room by Linda and Emma. Helen was thrilled to see that her boyfriend responded warmly and without embarrassment to their unorthodox family. All too often previous visitors to their home had been very ill-at-ease among all these intellectually handicapped people. When the children had left, Carl and Andrew took out their flutes, and there was instant silence in the room. "Altah," Andrew explained, "We usually have devotions at this time. We sing some hymns, have a Scripture reading, and then pray. We'd be very happy if you'd like to join in." Altah glanced at Helen, who smiled at him, and he squeezed her hand. "I would love to join in," he said. Carl blew a few notes on his flute to warm up then suddenly stopped and looked around the room, puzzled. "Where's Ben?" he asked Andrew. "I don't know," Andrew replied, "I haven't seen him since teatime. He may have gone out." Carl shrugged. "I suppose he'll turn up," he said. He put the flute to his lips and after blowing a few scales he began to play Amazing Grace. Everyone started to sing along heartily. Although for the most part the singing was rather off-key, it was certainly from the heart. When Emma and Linda came back they also joined in the singing. After a few hymns had been sung, Andrew read a chapter from Isaiah, then Carl led the household in prayer. Each person prayed in turn, and Altah added his voice in a warm prayer of thanks for his new friends. When devotions were over, Emma announced that they would be having supper as soon as Ben came back and that in the meantime Carl and she would like to spend some time talking with just Altah and Helen, so the rest of the family could go do other things. The five 'Grown-Up Children', as Ben referred to them, left the lounge and scattered to various parts of the house. Emma sat down next to Carl on the sofa facing Helen and Altah's. Carl smiled at the young man. "Well, Altah," he said, "It's a pleasure to see how easily you fit into our unusual household." "I must admit that I was surprised," Altah replied, "Helen had not warned me." He turned to Helen. "Why didn't you?" he asked her. Helen looked down at her feet. "I wanted to see how you'd react," she whispered, "Do you mind?" "No, I do not mind," he laughed, "I like surprises! Anyway, they gave me a lot of hugs and kisses, didn't they?" Suddenly he was serious. "Well... I did not tell you either, Helen. My youngest sister had Down's syndrome—she died during a heart operation when she was only four." 231


"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Emma asked. "Four brothers and three sisters, now," Altah replied, "I am the third child. All my family is still in Ulaanbataar." "How long have you been here, then?" Carl asked in surprise, "Your English is very good." "I began to learn English in primary school, when I was ten. It is required for all students," Altah explained, "When I finished high school I received a scholarship to come and study here at university. So I have been here seven years now." "He hasn't been back to Mongolia in all that time," Helen said. "That's a long time to be away from your family," Emma remarked, "You must miss them." "Oh, yes, I do miss them, very much," Altah answered, "And it was very hard when they told me that my grandmother had died, because I was very fond of her. But I will go back, I suppose, when I finish my studies." His voice was wistful, and he glanced at Helen as he said the last words. "Helen told us that you're doing postgraduate studies in veterinary science," Carl said, "How much longer do you have before you get your degree?" "A year and a half, I think. I am researching the diseases of dairy cattle," Altah replied. "He's also tutoring a couple of the undergraduate courses," Helen added. At that moment Benjamin came charging into the room. "Daddy! Daddy!" he exclaimed excitedly, "Uncle Ben! Supper! Surprise!" He threw himself at Carl and hugged him hard. Carl laughed and hugged his son back, then tried to calm him down. "Benjamin, you know you're not supposed to barge in like that," he said, "Now calm down, apologise, then tell me, slowly, about Uncle Ben." The boy hung his head and rubbed his hands together. "Sorry. Daddy." He looked at Emma. "Mummy. Uncle Ben. Buy cake. Supper." His eyes shone. He was getting excited again and Emma took his hand and squeezed it. "Slowly, Benjy," she said, smiling, "Tell Daddy." Benjamin glanced uncertainly at Carl, who was watching him affectionately. He took a deep breath. "Daddy," he said, more slowly this time, "Uncle Ben. Buy cake. Come see." He tugged at Carl's hand. "All right," Carl said, getting up, "Why don't we all go and see what Ben's been up to?" He motioned to Helen and Altah. "Come on, you two. It's time for supper, anyway." Emma also got up and the four of them followed Benjamin out to the dining room. There they found Ben standing at the far end of the table, beaming. On the table was a large cake with ten candles on it. The GrownUp Children were standing around the table, their eyes shining, as Benjamin pulled Carl into the room and Emma, Helen, and Altah followed. Carl looked at Ben questioningly. "Whose birthday is it?" he asked. Ben laughed. "You've really forgotten, haven't you? Ten years ago today we moved here." 232


"That's right!" Emma exclaimed, "How did we overlook that?" "You've been on this farm for ten years?" Altah asked Helen. "Yes. We lived in a flat in Apmirra before. When the flat became rather crowded we moved to this farm. Also Dad decided it was time for us to settle in one place. Remember I told you once how we used to travel around the country in a camper truck until I was eleven?" "Yes, I remember," Altah replied, "But how did you find enough money to buy a place like this?" "We didn't buy it," Helen explained, "It was a gift from President Velasquez. It's a long story." "Come on, Carl," Ben was saying, "Who's going to blow out the candles? We're all eager to eat this cake, you know!" "You and Benjy should blow them out, Ben," Carl answered, "After all, if it hadn't been for you two, we wouldn't be in this place at all."

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CHAPTER 24 "Well, Altah, that's quite a difficult decision you need to make," Carl said, "To go back to your family or to stay here and make a life for yourself here." It was early in the morning and Carl sat on the swingseat with Helen's boyfriend. Altah had spent the long weekend at Beth-El Farm, helping in any way he could with the animals. That morning after devotions he'd asked Carl if he could have a talk with him as he needed some advice. "Sometimes I wish I'd never got the scholarship," Altah said, "and then I'd never have come here and got to like it here, or met Helen." "And how long do your thoughts keep going in that direction?" Carl asked, smiling. Altah looked down and sighed. "Not very long," he said, then looked up at Carl with a grin. "It's foolish to think like that, isn't it?" he said softly, "I am here, and I do know Helen, and now I have to decide what to do." "It's over seven years since you last saw your family," Carl said, "and I can understand that the pull to go home is strong. On the other hand, it's over seven years that you've been here, and it's not surprising that you've got used to the place. I might also say that it's not surprising that you like Helen, but as her father I could be said to be biased." Altah laughed. "You are a good father," he said, "Your children like you very much and they have much respect for you. Helen is the nicest by a long way of all the girls I have met since I came here." His face grew very serious and he gazed into the distance for a moment. Then he sighed deeply. He turned to Carl, his face pale but his dark eyes shining. "Mr. Slade," he said quietly, "I would like to marry Helen. Would you give me your permission?" Carl was taken by surprise. When Altah had started the conversation twenty minutes before, there had been no hint of its leading to such a request. In the six months that they had known Altah, Emma and he had become very fond of the young man. Several times they had said to each other that if Altah were to marry Helen—as Helen herself seemed sure that he would—they would be thanking God for a wonderful son-in-law. After his first visit to Beth-El farm he'd become a frequent visitor, often staying over a weekend and helping with the work of the farm. Over the weeks and months he'd become very close to both Carl and Andrew. The three of them often spent time together on a job or an errand, or simply talking and praying together. Helen was delighted that her father got on well with her boyfriend, and that her mother had also taken a liking to him. "He's not one to rush into making decisions," Emma had remarked once, "He has more patience than almost anyone else I know. And Benjy and the other children lap up all the attention he gives them." Now the young man had himself come to Carl and asked if he could marry Helen. Although he'd been surprised, Carl knew what his answer would be. "Altah," he said, "When you asked to speak to me this morning, it never occurred to me that you'd be asking me about marrying my daughter.

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You certainly took me by surprise. On the other hand, from what I've seen of you over the last six months, I must say that I've been favourably impressed by you. Emma and I have prayed for Helen's future husband ever since she was born, and although we've never actually stipulated what sort of a man we had in mind except that he has to be a true Christian—we though we ought to leave the rest to God—I have to admit that you come very close to being exactly the kind of man I'd want Helen to marry. I can't think of any objections to your request, offhand, and I doubt if I'd come up with any if I thought any longer about it—" "Uh, excuse me for interrupting," Altah said, "but what if I decide to go back to Mongolia? After we're married?" That made Carl pause. Mongolia was a very long way away—so far away that there was no likelihood of his ever being able to visit his daughter if she went to live there. Is that what he wanted for her? Is that what he wanted for Emma and himself—never to see their daughter again except in photographs? Never to see Helen's children? He leant against the back of the swingseat and stared up into the branches of the cedar, and tried to look at this from Helen's point of view. It had been clear from the start that Helen had no doubts that Altah would one day be her husband. Carl knew how she could be so certain, though he couldn't have explained it satisfactorily to anyone but Emma or Andrew, and perhaps Ron. It had also been clear from early on that both Helen and Altah were very fond of each other. Helen loved her family, and she loved the Lord and wanted to do what was right. Well, how would she look at the possibility of settling down in a country like Mongolia? From what they'd been able to find out about Altah's homeland, it had made great progress since the beginning of the century, and although the climate there was quite harsh, life there wasn't any more difficult than in Pamanyungan. How would she feel about being so far from her family? He thought of Emma, who had escaped to Kawanyama with him and had agreed to marry him even though it meant that she might never see her family again. Yet Emma loved her family—especially Jack and Rose— fiercely. Only, she'd chosen to cleave to her husband. As it turned out, she hadn't been separated from her family all that long after all, but she couldn't have known that would happen. Well, Helen was like her mother. If she married Altah, she would go wherever he went. Which is as it should be, Carl reminded himself. Carl turned to Altah and smiled warmly at him. "If you marry Helen, and then decide to go back to Mongolia," he said, "you'll have my blessing. It's not easy to see one's daughter leave the nest, and I can't imagine it'd be easy to see her leave for the other side of the globe, but if it would be the right thing for you to go, then of course she'd be going with you. And it would be with our blessing. And as I said before, I have no objections to your marrying her." Altah stood up and bowed to him. "Thank you," he said. His attitude was so solemn that had Carl been in a different frame of mind he would have laughed. Instead he got to his feet and put his hands 235


on Altah's shoulders. "It's a big step, marriage," he said, "I assume you're aware of that?" Altah lowered his eyes a moment and sighed deeply, then looked up at him again. "Yes, I know it," he said softly, "It is a happy thing, but it is also a little frightening." Carl looked at him kindly. "A lot frightening?" he asked gently. The young man grinned shyly. "Yes," he said, "I have many questions." "I'll be happy to answer any questions that I'm able to answer," Carl said, "and to pray with you about it all. Marriage is a very good thing, Altah—I've been married now for almost twenty-one years and I highly recommend it. But it is a very serious matter, and it is for life, and it can be frightening at times. As in everything else, you have to do things God's way and depend on Him for wisdom and strength." "Yes," Altah said, "My parents have been married for more than thirty years now. They depend on God and they love each other very much." They started walking back towards the house. "Have you asked Helen about this?" Carl asked. "Not yet," Altah replied, "I wanted to ask you first. It is very important to me that you are happy about it." Carl put an arm around his shoulders. "I'm very happy about it," he said, "and I'm sure that Emma will be, too, when I tell her." Altah grinned at his future father-in-law. "When Helen says yes, I will be the happiest man in the world," he said.

! ! ! Emma, in the tradition of mothers throughout history, shed tears on the day of her daughter's wedding. As Altah and his bride walked around greeting all the guests after the ceremony, she held Carl's hand tightly and watched the young couple's progress, her cheeks wet. When Carl asked her why she was crying, she told him that she wasn't quite sure, but she had a feeling that it was a combination of joy at her daughter's happiness, sadness at her daughter's leaving "the nest", and avoiding blinking in case she missed anything by doing so. Carl laughed and hugged her. "I love you, Em," he said, and kissed her quickly on the mouth. Then he whispered in her ear. "I must admit," he said, "that my eyes feel strangely tingly too." She held her arm around his waist and leant her head on his shoulder. "Can you imagine the headlines?" she said softly, "'Carl Slade weeps at his daughter's wedding.' You laughed at my brother's funeral and you cry at Helen's wedding. If I didn't know you the way I do I'd think you were mad." "Oh, but I am." "Actually, I know. So am I. Mad about you." "Funny—I was about to say the same thing." Emma looked up at her husband's face and smiled happily. "Weddings have that kind of effect, don't they?" she said.

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He kissed her cheek and hugged her close. "Especially when the bride is one's own child," he said, "One's first child." Emma thought back to the few minutes between the birth of Helen and that of Andrew. "She wasn't an only child for long, was she?" she commented. "She was never an only child," he said. "I suppose not. Andrew was around as long as she was, wasn't he?" "I wonder how long it'll be before we're watching Andrew exchanging rings?" "Well, Karen and he seem to be very good friends..." "Hmmm...She's a fine girl," Carl said, "but a bit young, don't you think?" "She has her feet on the ground," Emma said, "But we shouldn't be too hasty. I don't think they've made any plans at this stage." "I'm sure Andrew knows what he's doing." "Isn't it amazing how quickly the twins grew up? It seems like only yesterday they were tiny and we were all travelling around in the camper..." "It seems like a long time ago to me. So much has happened in those years." "That's why they seem to me to have gone by so fast, I guess," Emma said, "Isn't it funny how the same thing, like this business of time, can seem so different to you from how it looks to me." "Perhaps we both have our heads in the clouds half the time?" Carl suggested, giving her a quick hug. Benjy's voice suddenly behind them brought them back to reality. He tugged at Emma's arm. "Mummy, Helen cry?" he asked. "Helen's crying?" Emma said, "Whatever for?" "Let's go see," Carl suggested, and taking her hand and Benjy's he walked off in the direction of Helen and her husband. Helen did have tears running down her face, but it wasn't because of sadness or sudden pain. "Benjy's irrepressible," Altah explained, his own face wreathed in a wide smile, "He came and asked Helen if she was happy. When she said 'Yes', he asked 'Why?' and she laughed so hard that she cried, especially when she saw the surprise on his face when she started laughing. He ran off to get you before I could tell him what was going on." Helen had finally been able to calm down, and she wiped her face with Altah's handkerchief. "Oh, Mum," she said, "You can never be sad or serious for long with Benjy around!" She looked down at her younger brother. "Can we, Benjy?" she said. "Why?" Benjy asked, and Carl hurried him off before Helen had another attack of hysterical laughter. Emma smiled but managed to avoid laughing, and she gave her daughter a hug. "You look absolutely beautiful, Helen," she said, "The picture of happiness." "That's interesting," Altah said with a straight face, "That's exactly what I was thinking." "You two are biased," a familiar voice said behind Emma. She turned around and frowned at Ron Velasquez. "So, if we're biased," she said, "tell us—what's the objective point of view of a Police Inspector?" 237


"Hmmm," Ron mumbled, and gazed at Helen appreciatively. "Come to think of it," he said at last, "I think I might be a trifle biased too. My verdict coincides with yours." "Uncle Ron, you're incorrigible," Helen said, and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Altah," Ron said hurriedly, taking Helen's hand and passing it to Altah, "You'd better keep an eye on this wife of yours—she's just kissed me." Altah didn't even blink. "Uncle Ron," he said soberly, "I don't think it will kill you." Ron, quite taken off guard, stared at him an instant. Then he took a deep breath, but the laughter was already in his eyes even before it escaped him. Emma took his arm and squeezed it. "It's good to hear you laughing, Ron," she said. He grinned at her. "I've got reason to laugh, Emma," he said, and winked. Emma considered him thoughtfully. There were many things that she had noticed over the last few preceding months that she had kept to herself. "I have a feeling I know what you're not telling me," she said slowly. "And you're probably right," he replied. She leant towards him. "Rose?" she asked, whispering in his ear. Ron grinned at her. "Yes," he whispered, and squeezed her hand. "Don't tell anyone yet," he added. "I won't," she assured him. The look in her eyes told him that she was very happy about his news. "Actually, you can tell Carl," he said, and winked, "Carl being the only exception, of course." "Of course," she said cheerfully, "He likes surprises. He'll be delighted by this one." "We were all delighted by his and Andrew's flute music this afternoon," Ron said, "Those two make a fine team." "Duo," Emma corrected, "Two musicians who play together are a duo, not a team." Ron bowed to her. "I stand corrected," he murmured. He suddenly grew serious and looked at his watch. "Much as I'm enjoying this little gettogether," he said, "I'm afraid the call of duty is louder than even Carl and Andrew's flute-playing and I have to leave. My officers appreciate my presence now and then. They like a bit of direction in their work." "Well, Ron, you'd better go and direct them, then," Emma said, "I'm sorry you can't stay for the dinner, but I know we'll be seeing even more of you from now on, so I won't keep you from your work." Ron bowed to her again and kissed her hand, making her laugh. As he walked away, he turned to speak over his shoulder. "By the way, Emma," he said, "The mother of the bride is very beautiful, too—and I'm not being cheeky."

! ! !

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"I'm not all that surprised," Carl said when Emma told him about Ron the next day, "and I admit that I'm rather glad about it. Rose has been far too lonely since Jack died, even after she moved here to the farm." "But isn't it rather amazing that Ron should suddenly decide to get married, after all these years?" Emma asked. "No more surprising than that he should have started the Underground during the Protectorate, or than that he should have run for Parliament back in forty-four, or than any of the thousand and one other surprising things he's done. Ron's not exactly what I'd call a conformist." "I certainly hope marriage works out better for him than his political career did!" "It will. I'm sure he knows that once he takes the step there's no turning back. He'll be Rose's husband to the end of his life. And he'll be a good husband." "Rose is fifty-nine," Emma said, "How old's Ron?" "A year younger than me—sixty-one," Carl replied, "He'll be sixty-two in January." "Gosh, he's not far off retiring age, is he?" "I'll have to ask him about that. He said he'll be dropping by sometime this morning. I'll have to make some comment." Ron did indeed turn up, just as Carl, Ben, Emma, and Rose were sitting down to morning tea in the kitchen. He came to the back door and let himself in. "Ah!" he said as he closed the back door behind him, "Caught you lot red-handed!" Rose laughed. Ben, sitting next to her, pretended to glare at him. "Redhanded?" he asked, "What gives you that idea?" Ron walked over to the table and pointed to a covered bowl. "Isn't that strawberry jam?" he asked. "I'm afraid so," Rose said very seriously, "You're right. You might as well be an accomplice, Ron, and have some scones and jam too. I think we can spare you one or two." Ron gazed at her a moment, and the sober look on her face gave way to a smile which he lost no time in matching. "You know, Ron," Emma said, "You're not much good at keeping secrets sometimes." He wheeled around and frowned at her. "What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded. She pretended innocence and busied herself in buttering a scone. "Oh, nothing," she said airily, added some jam to the scone, and handed it to him. "Here, take this and have a seat." Ron took the scone and grinned. He pulled out a chair next to Rose and sat down. "All right, Emma," he said, "I had a chat with Rose last night, and we agreed that we can make our engagement public knowledge now." "Engagement?" Ben exclaimed, and looked from Ron to Rose twice. "Are you telling us you two are getting married?" "That's what engagement usually means," Rose said, patting his arm.

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Carl had been following all this with a wide grin on his face. "Would you like a cup of tea, Ron?" he said suddenly. Ron gave him a puzzled look. "Why do you have to change the subject?" he asked, "Does the topic of marriage embarrass you?" "No," Carl said, "I could talk about it all day, if you want, but I think a cup of tea is nice with scones and jam now and then." Ron looked at his half-eaten scone a moment, frowning. "Hmph," he said at last, "I suppose you're right." "So does that mean 'yes?'" Carl asked. "She said 'yes' two weeks ago," Ron replied. Ben got up, walked over to Ron and patted him on the head. "Carl was asking if you were saying 'yes' to a cup of tea," he said mock-sweetly. "Oh," Ron said, looking up at Ben and then over at Carl, "Oh, yes, I guess so. Yes, thank you, Carl—I'd like a cup of tea." Carl waved towards the counter behind Ron. "Help yourself," he said, "There are the mugs, the teapot, and so on." Rose touched Ron's arm. "I'll get it for you," she said. Ben patted her shoulder. "No, I will," he said, "and I'll get you another one, too, if you'd like. Congratulations, the two of you. I'm really pleased to hear your news." Ron was very pensive while Ben prepared his tea, and he thanked Ben absently when the mug was placed in front of him. Ben waved his hand in front of Ron's face. "Time to wake up," he said cheerfully, "Tea's ready." "What's on your mind, Ron?" Carl asked. "I was just wondering..." Ron answered vaguely. "Wondering what?" Carl persisted. "How Jack would feel about my going and marrying his wife," Ron said. "She's not his wife any more," Ben pointed out, "She's his widow." "I think Jack would be very happy about it," Emma said, "In a manner of speaking, I mean. If he were still alive he wouldn't be, of course, because he'd still be her husband. But if you'd asked him before he died about Rose marrying Ron if he—Jack, I mean—died, then he'd have said he'd be very happy about it." Ron looked puzzled. "I'm not sure I followed all that," he said, "Could you explain it again?" Rose laughed and slapped his shoulder. "Never mind," she said, "You can be sure that Jack is very happy." He turned to look at her. "How do you feel about it?" he asked, "You don't feel as if you're betraying his memory, or anything like that?" He cleared his throat. "I should have asked that before now, of course, but I didn't, so I'm asking now." She looked at him thoughtfully. "Ron," she said slowly, "You were one of Jack's closest friends, especially over the last few years of his life. I don't think for one moment that I'm betraying his memory by agreeing to be your wife. I think Jack would want the best for both of us, and we both agree that this is the best. That's all there is to it." 240


"There's an awful lot more to it than just that!" Carl exclaimed, "Marriage is for life, you know! Life with the same person, day in, day out!" He turned to Emma and winked, and she winked back. Ron looked at him pityingly. "You don't have a very high opinion of us, do you?" he said, "Do you really think we'd go into this without knowing the facts about it?" Carl shrugged. "Just checking," he said. Rose grinned. "I can see that you won't let us make any mistakes, will you, Carl?" she said. "Rose," Carl said softly, "You're certainly not making a mistake. Jack was a wonderful man who loved God with all his heart, and I'll always cherish the memory of his friendship and his mentoring. I thank God for the couple that you were—the couple who led me to Christ, and who led Ron to Christ, too. We all miss Jack, and of course you've missed him more than any of the rest of us has. But God decided three years ago that it was time for Jack to go home, and that was that. You were no longer a couple. Now it will be Ron and you who will be a couple—a very different couple from what Jack and you were. Even you're different from what you were before Jack died—you've been through Jack's death, and grieving, and you've changed as a result, as we all have. Ron is very different from Jack, but he's also a wonderful man who loves God with all his heart, and you love God just as much as he does. And you love each other—a love that's grown from your mutual love for Jack, I think. You'll be a strong couple, and we're all delighted at your decision. It doesn't seem to me that there's any mistake involved at all." They were all silent for a while as they thought about what Carl had said. Ron had his hands wrapped around his mug and was staring at the tea in it, and Rose was gazing at Carl with a bemused look on her face. Ben frowned at a point on the wall behind Carl, and Emma had her chin on her hand and her eyes closed. "Ron," Carl said after some time. "Mmmm? What?" Ron muttered, looking up. "Aren't you a bit old to be getting married for the first time?" "Old?" Ron echoed. "Well, you're only some eight years from retirement, aren't you?" "So?" "Isn't that a bit old?" Ron stared at him but didn't answer. He turned to Rose and raised his eyebrows. "Did you hear that?" he asked her. "I did," she replied, very seriously. "Do we leave now?" he asked. "Perhaps we should," she said. Ron glanced at Carl, who was leaning his head on one hand and looking amused. "He thinks it's funny," he said, turning back to Rose. "And he's a year older than you, too," Rose said. "Should we forgive him? Just this once? Put it down to senility, or something like that?"

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Rose looked at Carl, sighed, and nodded slowly. "Yes, I think we ought to forgive him. We should even invite him to the wedding, don't you think?" "I know," Ron said, slapping the top of the table, "We'll get him to play his flute—as penance!" "All right," Rose said, "But I think you'd better tell him." Ron cleared his throat and turned to Carl. "My dear friend," he said, "Just this once, we'll forgive you for your cheek, on one condition—you have to play your flute at our wedding." Carl lowered his eyes and looked duly repentant. "Thank you so much," he said, "for such a privilege." He looked up at Ron and grinned. "Finish up your scone and tea now—morning tea is almost over and we have to get back to work." Ben had not moved during the whole exchange. Now his eyes moved from the wall to Carl's face. "There's only one problem, Carl," he said quietly. "What?" Carl asked. "Who'll make scones for morning tea after Rose goes off with Ron?"

! ! ! The day of Ron and Rose's wedding turned out to be the hottest day of January, with an extreme fire alert. Both of them had agreed that they wanted the wedding to be held at Beth-El Farm, and Carl and Emma had been very happy to host it, but even in the shade of the cedar the air was still and hot. Henry and Louise and their children, and the various members of the "Medical Team", were among the guests who came from around the country to join in the celebration. Everyone stayed in the shade as much as possible. Benjy, now almost fifteen years of age physically but still only about four mentally, had been very excited at the prospect of yet another wedding, and he'd informed Andrew that he wanted to make a special present for "Auntie'ose" and "Unkl'on". On the morning of the wedding he'd disappeared into the barn and had not emerged until Emma had come looking for him and had reminded him that he needed to have a wash and change his clothes if he wanted to be part of the wedding. He followed her back to the house, carrying a large box clumsily wrapped in gaudy red and yellow paper and ribbons and looking very pleased with himself. After a quick lunch he'd taken a shower and dressed himself in the suit that had once been Andrew's but which Andrew had grown out of years before. This done, he went to Andrew's room and knocked on the door. He was still carrying his parcel. Andrew recognised his way of knocking. "Come on in, Benjy," he called out, "Door's open." Benjy opened the door, walked into the room, and closed the door behind him. Andrew was busy combing his hair. "You ready?" he asked Benjy. "Ready," Benjy said.

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Andrew put away his comb and turned to look at his younger brother. "You're looking very smart in that suit. Looks good." He indicated the parcel. "What's that you're carrying?" he asked. "P'esent," Benjy said, and put it down on the bed. "For me?" Andrew asked. "No," Benjy replied, "Auntie'ose. Unkl'on." "Ah," Andrew said. He considered the ungainly package a moment and smiled. "It's very bright," he remarked, "Those are very happy colours, aren't they?" "Happy," Benjy agreed, and grinned broadly. "Unkl'on happy?" Andrew chuckled at the idea that Ron might not be happy on his wedding day. "Oh, I expect so," he said, "Though you never know, with him. He'll be happy that you have a present for him, though. He likes presents." "Like p'esent," Benjy said, "Auntie'ose too?" "Oh, he likes Auntie Rose very much!" "Auntie'ose like p'esent?" "She loves presents. What are you giving them?" "Sup'ise," Benjy said, and put a finger on his lips. "Okay," Andrew said, "I'll wait until they've opened it, then." "Yes," Benjy said, "Wait." Benjy held onto his parcel, refusing to part with it, right through the ceremony. Afterwards, when Ron and Rose were meeting with their guests over afternoon tea, he hurried over to them with it. Stopping in front of Ron, he thrust the present at him. "Happy burday," he said happily. Ron, despite his ability to keep a straight face when everyone else is in stitches, was quite taken aback by the strange-looking packet. "Thank you, Benjy," he said, "but it isn't my birthday. It's our wedding." "Happy 'edding," Benjy amended. "Should we open it now?" Rose asked. Benjy clapped his hands. "Open it, open it," he said eagerly. Ron took the parcel over to the nearest table and Rose and Benjy and a large number of the guests followed him. Carl, Emma, Ben, and Andrew also came over to see what Benjy had given the newly-weds. "This calls for solemnity," Ron announced as he undid the knots Benjy had tied all over the parcel. Benjy was hopping from one foot to the other in his excitement, and Carl placed a hand on his shoulder to still him. The boy looked up at his father. "P'esent," he said, and pointed to the box, "Unkl'on open." Carl smiled and nodded, but didn't answer, and both of them turned their attention back to what Ron was doing. It took him several minutes to undo all the knots and remove the ribbons. At last he pulled the paper away from the box. "Ah," he said, "A box. Thank you, Benjy—boxes are very useful things. It's a thoughtful present." Benjy looked quite mystified. He looked at Ron and then at the box, and back at Ron. He patted the box. "Open it," he said. "Open what?" Ron asked. 243


"Oh, stop it!" Rose laughed, slapping his shoulder, "Can't you see Benjy hasn't a clue what you're on about?" Ron grinned at her, then turned and patted Benjy's shoulder. "Sorry, Benjy," he said, "Uncle Ron's not very clever sometimes." "Why?" Benjy said, and patted the box again. "Open it," he repeated. Ron pulled at the lid of the box and took it off. He looked inside the box, and started. He looked up quickly, turned to Carl, and arched his eyebrows. "What's in it?" Carl asked. In reply, Ron put his hand in the box and pulled out its contents. He held them up for everyone to see, and placed them on the table. No-one said a word—they all stared at Benjy's creation in silence. Benjy had nailed two narrow pieces of wood, one longer than the other, together in the shape of a cross. On the intersection of the cross he'd placed a small toy lamb made of white wool, and tied it on with a piece of the same red ribbon he'd used for tying on the wrapping of the box. Around the lamb he'd inserted sprigs of honeysuckle, and the strong perfume of the flowers, suddenly released from the box, wafted around so that all could smell it. Everyone looked at Benjy, who was smiling broadly. "What is it about?" Ron asked him softly. Benjy's eyes were full of light. "Jesus 'ove you," he said, "Happy." Rose put her arm around her nephew's shoulders. "Did you make this all by yourself?" she asked gently. "Make by 'self," Benjy said happily, "Fo'you." "You said it's about Jesus loving us?" Ron asked him. "Jesus 'ove you," Benjy said, and held his arms wide, "'Ove me. 'Ove evybody." Carl gazed at his son speechlessly. He remembered very clearly walking around the house late one afternoon about two months earlier and finding Ron and Benjy sitting together on the swing seat in the front garden. As he'd come up behind them they hadn't been aware of him, and he'd been about to continue on his way to the front door when he'd heard some of what Ron was saying. He'd stopped in amazement and listened, wondering how much of what Ron had been saying Benjy could actually understand. Ron had been explaining to Benjy why the Bible referred to Jesus as the "Lamb of God". What had caught Carl's attention were Ron's words about "Jesus died on the cross because He loves us. You know that already." Ron had gone on to tell Benjy about the sacrifices of ancient Israel and how the lambs and baby goats offered had to be perfect animals. Then he'd explained how Jesus was the sacrifice to end all the other sacrifices. As the Lamb of God, pure and completely without sin, Jesus had offered Himself as the sacrifice, so that anyone who trusted Him could be forgiven by God for all the wrong things they'd done. Rose took hold of Ron's hand and squeezed it, and he glanced at her and swallowed hard. Then he pulled his hand free and turned to Benjy. "Thank you, Benjy," he whispered, pulled the boy to him and hugged him. He swallowed hard again and bit his lip, and when Benjy looked up at him and

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asked, "Happy Unkl'on?" he let him go and fled to the house, Rose and Ben hurrying after him. Benjy, his eyes wide with astonishment, watched him go, as did the rest of the company. When Ron had disappeared inside the house, Benjy turned to his father and pulled on his arm. "Unkl'on run away?" he asked. "I'm not sure, Benjy," Carl said, "but I think it's because he likes your present very much." Emma smiled at her son. Carl had told her about Ron's talk with Benjy, so she understood the significance of what Benjy had put together. "It's a very special present," she said, "Uncle Ron and Auntie Rose have never been given anything like that before, you know." These explanations made as much sense to Benjy as any other, and he nodded and turned to look at the present. The other people were discussing quietly among themselves, some of them glancing now and then at Benjy and his gift. Altah came over to his young brother-in-law and put an arm around his shoulder. "It's very good, Benjy," he said, "Did you make that all by yourself?" Benjy grinned happily. "By 'self," he said, "I made fo'Unkl'on." As he turned his head to look at Altah, he caught sight of one of Henry's children carrying a glass of lemonade. "Fursty," he said, and walk off towards a table where Linda and Megan were serving the drinks. Altah touched Carl's arm. "I didn't know that Benjy understood about the Lamb of God," he said, indicating the gift on the table with his chin. "Ron explained it to him, about two months ago," Carl said, "I'd no idea he'd understood. I'd thought Ron had wasted his time." "Uncle Ron doesn't waste his time, though, does he?" Altah said, "Even his jokes are not a waste of time. He must have had an idea that Benjy understood at least some of what he told him." "And he's just been proven right," Emma said, "There are things that Benjy can understand because he trusts God completely."

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CHAPTER 25 One of Benjamin's favourite occupations was his early-morning walk with his father and brother. Carl and Andrew had started going for a walk together before breakfast when Andrew was ten years old and they had just moved to Beth-El Farm, and a few years later they had decided to take then eight-year-old Benjy with them, to the latter's delight. Their walks became an almost daily tradition which continued for years, and Altah, after he joined the household, occasionally went with them. Usually they headed towards the woods up the road from the back gate of the farm. Benjamin was happy just to walk along while Andrew and Carl talked quietly about anything that came to mind—often something arising from their morning devotions or from some on-going situation in the family or among their friends. As Andrew grew older he was grateful to be able to share the perplexities of adolescence with his father during their walks. Sometimes they would sit down on a large rock together and talk or simply listen to the sounds of the forest while Benjamin explored their surroundings and looked for flowers to take back to his mother. Altah often brought some very different insights to their discussions, and both Carl and Andrew appreciated being able to look at issues from his point of view and to compare it with their own. If they had got away especially early they would prolong their walk by going on through the woods to the hilly paddocks beyond it. They would walk along the track that led from the entrance to the woods to the clearing with the fire-tower, and continue on to the paddocks. Here Benjy would often run or even roll down the steep hillside, as far as the pylon near the fence. At the far end of this paddock it bordered a road which ran up the opposite hill. The paddock itself had a simple barbed-wire and post fence, but the pylon just inside it was surrounded by a six-foot-tall chain-link fence, for the pylon carried high-voltage lines. Beyond the paddock fence was a road which bordered it as far as the pylon and then took a sharp turn away to make its way steeply up the opposite hill. There was little traffic on the road, although several times each day huge interstate coaches would go by on their way to and from Apmirra, travelling at a hundred and fifty kilometres an hour on the straight and slowing down only for the bend in the road. Benjy would always jump up and down in glee and cheer whenever one of these buses happened to go past while they were on their walk. When he was younger, Andrew would run along with his brother while Carl watched them from the top of the hill, but as he grew older he would more often stay with Carl and they would sit down on the grass and continue their conversation. Benjamin would reach the bottom of the hill and yell, then make his way back up, giving Carl, Andrew, and then Altah a hug when he reached them. The four of them would then return to the farm at a somewhat faster pace than when they had set out.

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By the time he was twenty, Andrew was as tall as his father, but Benjamin seemed to stop growing when he reached fourteen, so that his head barely reached to Andrew's shoulder. He loved to stand next to his older brother, exclaiming on how big Andrew was. "God big?" he asked Andrew one day as they'd been working together in the garden and had stopped for a break and a drink of water. "Is God big?" Andrew said, "What do you mean?" "God big, like you," Benjy said, raising his hand as high as he could. Andrew raised both arms and then spread them out. "God is so big," he said, "that He's bigger than everything. He's way, way bigger than me!" Benjy considered this statement for a moment, then he grinned at his brother. "You big. Daddy big. House big," he said happily, pointing to the house, "God big enough." He cocked his head and looked serious. "God big enough, yes?" Andrew wasn't too sure just what Benjy meant, but he nodded. "God's big enough," he agreed. Benjamin suddenly took his hand and peered anxiously in his face. "God not scared," he said earnestly, "Never?" Andrew wondered at his brother's concern. "God's never scared," he said firmly, "He's always in control—He never gets taken by surprise. He knows everything, so He isn't afraid of anything." "Daddy scared?" Benjy asked. "Sometimes," Andrew replied, "I'm scared too, sometimes." "I scared," Benjy said softly. "What are you scared of?" Andrew asked. "God." "You're scared of God?" "Scared of God." "God loves you, Benjy. You don't need to be scared of Him at all." "God love me. God big," Benjy said, very seriously, and squeezing his brother's hand, "I scared. And I not scared. All right?" Andrew didn't answer right away. He thought of Benjy's words, and he considered what Benjy likely meant by them. He knew that Benjy didn't think logically or chronologically—he thought in circles. He had little concept of the passage of time, and to all intents and purposes lived in the present, oblivious to the future as if it would never come, and seemingly assuming that anything from the past that he remembered had only just happened. The idea of cause and effect often eluded him. Altah, on the other hand, was more familiar with non-linear thinking, and often understood what Benjy was trying to get across more quickly than Andrew could. But he, too, was amazed at Benjy's insights. Despite the fact that his intelligence was very limited, that he could not understand numbers beyond three and was unable to learn to read, Benjamin had often shown an uncanny ability to understand spiritual concepts that confused those with normal or better-than-average intellectual ability. Andrew had first been hit by this when Benjamin was ten. It had been on one of their walks, and he'd been discussing the Trinity with his 247


father, when Benjy, who'd been listening for a while and then had wandered off as usual, had suddenly come running to them, cheerfully waving something in his hand. "Look!" he'd yelled, "Look! Andoo! Daddy!" He'd run to Carl and had flung his arms around his waist, and then had handed him a clover-leaf with a badly-mangled stalk. "God," he'd said happily, and had run off again. Carl had stood there in a daze, looking first at the leaf in his hand and then at Benjy, and back at the leaf. "God," he'd whispered. "He was listening to us," Andrew had said softly, "He understood." "Benjy's close to God," Emma had said when they'd told her and Ben about it, "He has no barriers, because he's a child and always will be. When he believed in Jesus there was no turning back for him—he knows that Jesus loves him and everything follows from that. He talks to God all the time." "Yes," Ben had said, "I've heard him. I don't know if it was right for me to do so, but I've eavesdropped on more than one occasion." "Did he ever notice?" Carl had asked. "Once," Ben had said, "He told me in no uncertain terms that he was talking with God and please could I leave them alone for a bit." "He said all that?" Emma had asked in astonishment, "In one go?" "Not in that many words," Ben had replied, "That's what he meant." "You know, Mum," Andrew had said then, "Benjy doesn't hold grudges, even when people hurt him or upset him." "No, he loves everyone," Emma had said. "Even Dave Heathrow," Carl had added. "Yeah, even him," Andrew had agreed, "I suppose that's what happens when one's close to God. I wish I were like that. I have a great deal of trouble coping with people like Dave." Now, standing there in the shade of the redgum tree near the garden, Andrew smiled at his brother. "I understand what you mean, I think," he said, "It's why the Bible talks about 'the fear of the Lord' as well as 'the love of God'. God loves us, but He's so much greater and more powerful than us that we have to be in awe of Him. We're scared by Him because He's so great and we're not scared of Him because He loves us." Andrew's long explanation had been more than Benjy could cope with. "Yeah," he said absently, "God. Loves us." He picked up the rake and headed back towards the garden. Andrew watched him as he raked the section of the vegetable patch that they had just cleared, musing on his brother's inability to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes, and astonished at how this didn't stop him thinking very deeply at times. How happy are those who know what is really important, he thought.

! ! !

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One morning in June, Andrew asked his father if they could prolong their walk a little as he wanted to talk to him about his relationship with Karen. "I know it's cold," he said, "but it's pretty important." "We'll wear our parkas," Carl said, grinning, "and have a cooked breakfast when we get back, to warm us up. I want to talk with you on the same topic." "Maybe Benjy ought to stay home," Andrew said tentatively, "He's not long been over that flu." Carl laughed. "You should know better than to make a suggestion like that!" he said, "Try and stop him coming. I don't think you'll be terribly successful. On the other hand, I don't think his presence will be a problem." "No, I guess not," Andrew said, and wondered to himself what profound statements Benjamin might make about marriage if he were asked about it. "Is Altah coming?" he asked. "I expect so," Carl said, "If you'd rather, I'll ask him not to." "No, that's okay. I don't mind his coming along. He might have some ideas too." Altah joined them, and after warning Emma that they would take a little longer than usual, they dressed warmly and set off towards the woods. The sky was overcast and there was still frost on the paddocks. Few birds were about, and there was no breeze blowing, so that the early-morning stillness was enhanced. Benjamin went off on his explorations as soon as they entered the forest, but Carl, Andrew, and Altah walked slowly. It was dark among the trees, but this didn't worry the men, for they were deep in conversation and didn't pay much attention to their surroundings. "I think it's about time Karen and I got married, Dad," Andrew said, "We could go on waiting indefinitely for me to get a position at the Ministry of Ag, and in the meantime we're 'burning with passion', to use Paul's phrase. It's getting tough, living in the same house and seeing each other every day and having to keep control over ourselves all the time." "It's that bad, is it?" Carl said, "I guess I hadn't noticed. You two seem to be very patient." "By the grace of God," Andrew said, "If it weren't for Him we'd have been in trouble long ago." "I know what you mean," Altah said, "It was a little bit like that for Helen and me." Carl recalled his own pre-marriage days, though they seemed like the distant past. "Sounds like you might be right, Andrew," he said, "How does Karen feel about it?" "She agrees with me. She thinks we ought to consult with you and Mum and set a date." "Well, seeing as we're already agreed that it's right for Karen and you to get married," Carl said, "I don't see why that should be a problem, apart from the fact that you have no job." "Well, that was the other thing I wanted to discuss with you," Andrew said, and turned to his brother-in-law. "You might have some ideas, too," he 249


said, "I've been thinking a lot about that job I applied for, and I don't feel all that happy about the possibility." "Anything about it in particular?" Altah asked. "It would leave me very little time to do anything else besides eat and sleep." "I see," Carl said, "What 'anything else' did you have in mind?" "I wouldn't be able to spend any time with you in the discipling ministry, or helping Mum with the children." "Well, you wouldn't be around here much, anyway, once you and Karen set up your own home." "No, and I don't feel at peace about that, either. Neither does Karen." "What do you mean?" Altah asked, "Do you think you should stay near Beth-El Farm?" "We both feel that we belong at Beth-El Farm," Andrew said, "and that's right on the other side of Apmirra from the Ag Min. It takes two hours plus to get there, and two hours plus to get home from there, and as far as I can see, that's wasted time. If I get that job we'll have to go live on the other side of the city." As they talked they arrived at the paddock on the other side of the woods, and Benjamin came up behind them and yelled. All three men jumped. Carl turned around, trying hard not to laugh. "Benjy, try not to yell at people without warning," he scolded, "You gave us quite a fright." Benjamin looked suitably repentant. He gave both his father and his brother a hug. "Sorry, Daddy," he said. Then he hugged Altah. "Sorry, Atah." Altah hugged him back. "We like you coming with us, Benjy," he said. "Me too," Benjy said, "Like coming." "Shall we keep walking down this time?" Andrew asked, "It's too cold to stand still." "Fine," Carl said, and they walked on down the hill towards the pylon. Benjamin took off ahead of them in his awkward, loping run. It was Carl who saw it first. As Benjamin set off, a coach came over the crest of the opposite hill and began coming down the hill on the northbound lane. He wouldn't have paid any attention to it except that it was not moving as expected—something seemed to be wrong. In an instant he knew what lay ahead. "Benjy! No!" he bellowed, starting to run, "Come back!" Benjy looked back over his shoulder and laughed, and, thinking his father was playing a game, continued towards the pylon. Andrew had stopped to adjust the fastener on his boot. At the sound of Carl's cry he glanced up. He saw Carl run off and at the same time he saw the bus, noticed its motion, and realised what was happening. Altah, too, realised it, and he took off after his father-in-law as fast as he could, which was a good deal faster than he'd ever thought he could go without a horse. "Dad! No!" he yelled, "Dad!" He reached Carl and threw himself at his legs, tackling him as if they were in the middle of a football game. Carl, taken completely by surprise, collapsed to the ground, Altah on top of him, just as the coach left the road, 250


crashed through both fences and rammed the pylon, bringing it crashing down on Benjamin. Andrew, running behind them, threw himself to the ground and covered his head with his arms. The noise was tremendous and appeared to roar and swell and echo around them, it seemed, for aeons. Bits of twisted metal and glass flew up in all directions and rained down on them and all over the paddock and the road. After what was only a few minutes they became aware of the silence, and then of muffled voices and cries coming from the damaged coach. Altah pulled away from Carl and sat back on his heels, catching his breath. Carl lay on the ground in shock, staring at the mangled heap of metal beams lying on top of Benjamin. Andrew slowly got up, and felt his face drain of blood as he saw what had happened to his brother. Carefully he moved nearer to Carl and Altah. Slowly, without taking his eyes off his younger son, Carl pushed himself into a sitting position. His face was ashen, and Altah, afraid he might fall over, went over to him and put and arm around his shoulder to support him. Carl turned to him, his eyes full of pain and bewilderment. "You stopped me," he said, the anguish in his voice piercing Altah's heart, "Why did you stop me? Why?" Altah dropped his eyes and swallowed hard. "I didn't want to lose you, Dad" he said very softly, "I didn't want you to die too..."

! ! ! In the days following the accident and throughout Benjamin's funeral, Carl felt as if he'd turned to ice. He felt cold, and numb, and seemed quite unable to think clearly. Benjamin was gone, and it was as if life had ceased to have meaning. Emma's heart ached for her husband far more than it did for her own loss. She missed Benjamin, and she grieved for him, but to her it was like a wound that causes terrific pain yet in which the healing process has already begun. She knew that Benjamin was with the Lord and that for him there would no longer be any pain, sorrow, or Down's syndrome—for his sake she could only rejoice. It was for the rest of them, herself included, and especially for Carl, that sorrow filled her heart. Altah had left his father-in-law and Andrew sitting on the grass for a moment and had made his way gingerly past the high-tension cables to the coach. He'd managed to wrench open one of the emergency exits and had climbed in. Several people had been hurt in the accident, but none of them severely, not even the driver. He'd told them that Carl and he would go to get help and that it would be best for them all to wait in the coach. After checking that some of the passengers were able to give first aid he'd returned to Carl, who'd remained sitting in the same spot, staring at what he could see of Benjamin through the twisted remains of the pylon. Altah had asked Andrew if he could stay there and re-assure the passengers on the coach while he took Carl home and phoned for the Rescue Squad.

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Andrew had agreed to stay, so Altah had helped Carl up and had led him away to the farm. On arrival at the house Altah had gone straight to the phone to summon the Rescue Squad, leaving his father-in-law in the hallway. Emma had come to find out why they weren't coming into the kitchen for breakfast and had found Carl standing in a daze. She could hear Altah in the study, speaking urgently on the phone. "Where are Andrew and Benjamin?" she'd asked Carl. "Benjamin..." Carl had said in a monotone. She'd stared at him for a moment, then, and realised that something terrible had happened. Without another word, she'd hugged her husband and waited for Altah to come and explain. As her son-in-law had come out of the study, Ben had also come out from the kitchen, in time to hear about the accident. Altah and he had left Carl with Emma and had gone back to the paddock to wait with Andrew for the Rescue Squad. After the funeral Carl was in such deep depression that Emma did not dare leave him alone. Whenever she could not be with him, Ben, Andrew, and Altah took turns staying with him. Other than praying for him, they were at a loss as to how they could help him. He didn't respond to anything they said, and although he sat down at the table with the rest of the family at mealtimes, he hardly ate anything. The foster children were bewildered by his behaviour, although a couple of them tried to get him to play with them. When his only response was to stare at them as if he didn't recognise them they began to avoid him, feeling vaguely guilty about it but unable to understand either his behaviour or their own inability to cope with it. Helen did her best to reassure them that he still loved them. "Dad's very, very sad, because Benjy's dead," she said to them, but their own experience of sadness was nothing like what they saw in Carl. Still, whenever they saw him they repeated it to each other, their faces reflecting their bewilderment: "Dad's very sad. 'Cause Benjy." Except for Linda, who was not as affected intellectually as the others, they weren't quite sure what was meant by Benjy's being dead. "I can't get through to Carl," Emma said to Andrew and Altah one evening, "I've prayed about it, I've tried talking with him—I really don't know what to do. I suggested that we have a few days away to go and see Henry and have a talk to him, but he didn't even respond to that. When I persisted he lost his temper and told me to leave him alone." "Well, that at least was a reaction," Altah said. "Yeah," Andrew said, "He's blown his top at me a couple of times, too. It's better than when he just sits there like a statue." He sighed. "Has Auntie Rose got any suggestions?" he asked, "She's usually pretty good at getting through to people who are hurting." "She's tried getting through to your father, but she hasn't had any success either." "He thinks it was his fault that Benjy died," Altah said, "When I am with him he talks to himself. He says that if he had run faster Benjy would not have been killed." 252


"Ha!" Andrew exclaimed, "If he'd run faster he'd have been killed too! It all happened too fast—the bus sliding on the ice and tobogganing down that hill at some hundred and fifty k's, the pylon falling over... You reached Dad with no time to spare. A fraction of a second later and it might have been all four of us dead." "Have you told him that?" Altah asked. "Yes. He just stared at me as if he hadn't understood what I'd said." "Your father is very depressed," Emma said, "If it goes on much longer I think he might need to see a doctor." "You know what he really needs, though, Mum, don't you?" Andrew said. "What?" Emma asked. "He needs to have a good cry." Emma looked at her son pensively, and nodded slowly. "Carl hasn't wept for years, Andrew," she said, "It's strange, though—he used to weep easily. I remember the first time I ever saw him cry. It was a couple of weeks after our escape from the Protectorate, when he found out that his best friend had been killed. I'd never seen a man weep like that, and he wasn't at all embarrassed about it. You're probably right, you know. He needs to weep for his beloved Benjamin." "Yes," Altah said, "That is true. Even Jesus cried when someone He loved died." As Emma had been speaking, her own voice shook, for as she thought of Benjy and of Carl her own tears were close to the surface. Andrew put his arms around his mother and hugged her. "He'll come out of it, Mum," he said, "We just have to be patient and pray for him and be with him." "I'm so glad you're here, Andrew," Emma said, "You've always understood your father." She turned to Altah. "And I'm so glad you're here too, Altah. The three of you get on so well together. I'm so thankful to God for you both. It's an incredible blessing to have such men of God around at a time like this."

! ! ! A few mornings later, almost three weeks after the accident, Emma came out of the study and asked Andrew if he would stay with his father for a while as she had work to do that couldn't wait any longer. "No problem, Mum," Andrew replied, "I've just finished doing the accounts and there's nothing else pressing at the moment." He went into the study and closed the door quietly behind him. Carl was sitting at the desk, his head in his hands, staring out of the window. He glanced at Andrew as he came in, but gave no other sign of acknowledgment and went back to staring out the window. Andrew stood by the door a moment, unsure of what he should do. Lord, please give me wisdom, he prayed silently. Finally he walked over to the desk. "Dad?" he said. Carl turned slowly to look at him, but said nothing.

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"Would you like to go for a walk?" Andrew asked, to his own surprise. He hadn't thought of such a suggestion until he actually said it. His father looked at him as if he hadn't understood a word, and blinked. "What did you say?" he asked softly. "I asked if you'd like to go for a walk." "Oh." Carl turned back to the window, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to work something out. After a few minutes he looked back at Andrew, who'd been waiting in silence for his answer. "Why not?" he said, but without enthusiasm. Slowly he stood up. "Lead the way," he said. Andrew took his father's arm and they walked out of the study towards the back of the house. On the back verandah Carl took off his slippers and put on his boots, then the two of them set off towards the back gate. Altah was just coming out of the barn as they reached the gate, and Andrew asked him if he'd like to come along. "Yes," Altah replied, "A walk is a good idea." The afternoon was cool and there were few cars on the road as they walked up the hill towards the woods. Andrew hadn't really thought about which way to go, but after a short time he realised they were simply following their habitual route through the woods, heading straight towards the hillside paddock where Benjamin had been killed. He glanced uneasily at his father, but Carl seemed to be in a daze, not paying much attention to his surroundings. Andrew wasn't prepared for what happened when they came out of the woods at the top of the paddock. The fateful pylon had been cleared away and a new, giant pylon surrounded by a new chain-link fence stood supporting the high-voltage lines. There was no trace of the accident left— even the paddock fence had been repaired. It was as if nothing unusual had ever happened there. As they came out into the open, Carl stopped suddenly and clutched his son's shoulder. Andrew looked at him in surprise, and saw that his face had turned quite white. "It's all gone!" Carl exclaimed, "They've fixed everything up! It's all gone!" He let go of Andrew's shoulder and set off at a run down the slope towards the pylon. Andrew and Altah ran after him. Carl came to a stop by the fence around the pylon and looked up at the huge steel tower. Then he turned around slowly, scanning the ground around it and the road beyond it. "All of it," he said softly, wonderingly, "They've removed all of it, every trace of it. You'd never know a child was killed here, less than three weeks ago..." He stared at the area where the other pylon had come crashing down, and it occurred to Andrew that he was reliving in his mind those terrible few seconds of Benjamin's life. Suddenly he cried out, in a voice so full of anguish it made both young men jump. He turned to his son, buried his face on his shoulder, and burst into tears. Andrew put his arms around his father and hugged him fiercely, and Carl wept freely and for a long time. As he held onto his father, Andrew recalled a 254


time when he was still very young when he'd seen his father comforting a heartbroken young man who had been crying on his shoulder. The scene had been recorded vividly in his memory as he'd realised for the first time that there were other people besides his family and their close friends who trusted his father and looked to him for help. Now this same man, his father, was the one who needed comforting and re-assurance, and Andrew finally knew what his life's work was to be. He would be his father's apprentice, and this was his first lesson. Altah, himself holding back tears, watched them for a moment, then he put his arms around the two of them and let his own tears flow. At last Carl's weeping ceased, and he pulled away from his son and straightened up. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face, glanced down at the ground and sighed deeply, and looked at Andrew and Altah. "Thank you," he said softly and, for the first time since Benjamin's death, he smiled. Andrew smiled back hesitantly, and Carl put a hand on his arm and closed his eyes. "Lord God our Father," he said quietly, "Thank you so much for my son—my friend." He squeezed Andrew's arm. "You're like your mother, you know," he said, "You always know when to speak and when not to, and the right thing to say. How God has blessed me in the two of you! And Helen—she's like a fresh breeze on a hot day, or the song of the thrush after the rain, or a sunbeam on a stormy day." He turned to his son-in-law and took his arm. "And Helen's husband—you, Altah," he said, "What a blessing you are to us all. Oh, Andrew, Altah—what a fool I've been!" To the two young men's astonishment he dropped to his knees, spread out his arms, and closed his eyes again. "Oh, Lord God, how wrong I've been," he prayed softly, "Forgive me, please, for my anger and my self-pity and my blindness in the midst of so much blessing. Truly I'm sorry and I beg Your forgiveness, in the name of Jesus, who died for me." He got to his feet and gave his son and his son-in-law a hug, turned one last time to glance at the pylon, and started back towards the woods. "Time to go back," he said, "Your mother will be anxious about us." Somewhat non-plussed by the sudden change in his father's mood, Andrew hesitated. "Uh, Dad," he said tentatively, "Are you all right?" Carl stopped and smiled warmly. "I'm all right, Andrew," he replied, "Yes, I'm all right now." He sighed. "Benjy's dead, and I miss him like mad, and the pain is awful, but I'm all right now. God's brought me back to reality, and He used you to do it." He looked back beyond Andrew and Altah to the pylon. "It's right and fitting that there's no sign of the accident anymore," he said, "I understand that now. It's finished. Benjy's gone, and nothing will ever bring him back. And yet, God is still good and always will be, and despite the pain I know He loves me, and in fact the pain is part of that." His voice dropped almost to a whisper, so that they had to strain to hear him. "I can't understand it, really, but it always seems to be so—if God loves you that much, pain is a part of it. I think your mother understands it better than I do. She said something about it when she talked once about her time in the Counselling Institute. It's something to do with knowing that despite everything you can count on God." 255


"You can always count on God," Altah said, "and He never lets you down." Again Carl sighed, and smiled at them, then he slapped Andrew's shoulder. "Come on," he said, out loud, "Let's go home."

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CHAPTER 26 Back at Beth-El Farm, Altah, Carl, and Andrew walked up to the back verandah. Ben, working near the shed across the driveway, saw them as they made their way to the house. He hurried to catch up with them. Carl and Altah didn't notice him and went straight into the house, but Andrew heard his footsteps on the footpath and turned around. "How's your father?" Ben asked. "I think he's okay," Andrew replied, "We went for a walk and ended up at the pylon." "I was over by the shed," Ben said, "and I saw you two coming back, and I thought to myself, that's odd—there's something different about the way Carl's walking. That's why I asked you how he is." Andrew sat down at the top of the steps and leant his head on his hands. Ben watched him curiously. "Are you okay?" he asked. Andrew didn't answer his question. "Uncle Ben," he said, "How do you feel about Benjy's death?" Ben sat down next to him with a sigh. "It hurts like mad," he said softly, "Benjy was special. I guess the fact that I'd known him all his life, and that I was there when he was born, and that I looked after him such a lot when we were travelling together meant that he was like a son to me." He looked over at Andrew. "Yes," he said, "That's it—I feel like I've lost another child..." "Benjy was special," Andrew echoed in a choked voice, "Look at everything that happened in our lives because of him. Oh, gosh, I remember that day when he was around three and so scared of the slightest breeze and then we found him on the jetty enjoying the wind blowing on him! The look on Dad's face, you know—I've never forgotten that. You'd have thought he'd seen Jesus all over again. At least, I imagine that's how he would have looked that night at Uncle Jack's when he turned to Christ..." He suddenly slapped his knee and Ben glanced at him in surprise. "Of course!" Andrew said, "That's how he looked when we were at the pylon just now. We both had a good cry, and then he looked at me and his face was just like it was that day—like he'd seen another miracle." "What did he say?" "He knelt down and asked God to forgive him for being angry and full of self-pity." "Oh, my goodness!" Ben exclaimed, "That's what we all ought to do!" "No, Uncle Ben," Andrew said, "I think I know what Dad was on about. No-one would blame him for it—he loved Benjy so much—but I think he was right in asking forgiveness. His grief had paralysed him, because he'd let it do that. He had a choice and he'd forgotten about it. I think that's why we went for a walk in the first place, and why we ended up at the pylon. It's because God wanted to remind him of the choice." He stood up and put his hands in his pockets. "You know, Uncle Ben, Dad's an incredible man. As soon as God shows him something he's down on his knees thanking Him

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and then he's off to do something about it. He doesn't waste any time wondering if he's heard right." "That's because he knows right away whether something is God's will," Ben said, "He knows God's Word inside out. It's no wonder Benjy was special, with a father like that. And your mother, too. I love your parents, Andrew—and you and your sister, too." "It shows," Andrew said softly, "We love you too. And we know how much you loved Benjy." He sat down on the steps again, abruptly. "Oh, gosh, Uncle Ben, will we ever get over this? Will life ever get back to normal? I keep expecting to see Benjy come charging out the door looking for 'Andoo', and then I remember and I feel like I've been stabbed!" Ben put a hand on his shoulder. He remembered how long he'd grieved for his wife and children. "One never quite gets over it, Andrew," he said quietly, "but the pain goes, eventually, and life does get back to normal. Just now and then memories come back and there's a sort of wistfulness, but as the years go by the pain gets less. But I guess wounds of any kind leave scars, so one never completely gets over it. It all takes time, though— wounds don't heal overnight." "I guess not," Andrew said softly, and sighed. After a moment he stood up again. "I guess I'd better go inside and see how Dad is and if Karen's got back from town." "And I'd better get back to work," Ben said, getting to his feet. "Thanks, Uncle Ben." "No problem, Andrew. It helps me, too, that we can talk about it."

! ! ! Carl had gone straight to the dining room, where he thought he was most likely to find his wife. As he'd expected, she was sitting at the table writing answers to the many messages of condolence they'd received. Helen was helping her by addressing envelopes. She looked up as her father came into the room, and immediately noticed the change in him. "Dad!" she exclaimed, "What's happened?" Emma looked up quickly in surprise and her eyes met Carl's, and she knew what had happened. She put down her pen and the card she'd been holding, got up from her chair, and went to put her arms around him. His own arms enfolded her and he put his cheek against her hair. Helen was watching them with a bemused expression, and he smiled at her and winked. She realised then that her father had come out of his depression, and she jumped up and rushed to hug them both. After a moment they separated. "Could you come to the study for a few minutes, Em?" Carl asked, "I need to talk with you." "Of course," she replied, "You'll excuse us, won't you, Helen?" "Of course I will, Mum," Helen said. Emma followed her husband into the study and he closed the door behind her. Then he led her to the sofa where he made her sit down, sat

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down himself next to her, and took her hands. "Emma, my love," he said, "I want to ask for your forgiveness for what I put you through these last three weeks because of my selfishness and self-pity. As if you weren't grieving for your child too! Please can you forgive me for being so awful?" She looked at him in wonder, thinking that he had hurt himself more than anyone else by his behaviour. She did understand, however, that her forgiveness was vital to him. She squeezed his hands and smiled. "Of course I forgive you, Carl," she said, "and I'm so glad you've come out of that. Now you'll be able to grieve properly." "Thank you, Em," he said gravely, "I'm awfully glad to be out of it too. It was horrible." "What happened?" "Andrew took me out for a walk. I don't know why he chose to go that way—maybe just habit—but we ended up at the scene of Benjy's accident. They've cleaned it up completely, Em! All of it! The fence, the pylon, the fence around the pylon—there isn't a scrap of metal or glass left, or any sign that anything ever happened there." "I guess it would've been dangerous to leave it like that. They had to clean it up quickly." "Of course, but that's beside the point. The thing is, I was standing there and it all came back so vividly—I 'saw' the whole thing happen again, and, oh, it hurt, Em. I think I yelled, but anyway I just started to cry my heart out on poor Andrew's shoulder. He just put his arms around me and let me cry until I couldn't cry any more." He sighed, and smiled at her. "You know, Em, that son of yours is a fine man. It's wonderful to have one's son for a friend..." Again he sighed before going on. "That's when God showed me how stupid I'd been," he continued, "I'd been longing for what I could never have back, when all the time He was still blessing me like crazy, with you, with Andrew, and Helen and Altah, and Ben, and the other children, and so on. And then, too, I understood a bit better what you've been telling me for years, Em—that pain will always be part of being loved by God, until we die, because the world we live in is full of pain. When we know God's love He shows us the world as it really is, as He sees it, and it's full of suffering. We can't stand back from it any more and we can't help feeling the pain." "But we have a choice as to how we react to the pain, don't we?" Emma said gently. "Yes," Carl replied, "That's what God reminded me of. He reminded me that I had a choice. He showed me that I'd taken on more pain than I needed to and that in a perverse sort of way I was almost enjoying it. I'd been that stupid!" Emma moved closer to him and put her arms around his waist and her head on his shoulder. "I miss Benjy, Carl," she said softly, "I miss him so much..." "He was a beaut fellow, Em. He came into this world with so little and he left so much behind. We were privileged to be his parents, you know." "Do you remember how pleased he was when Ben took him down to the coast for a few days, just the two of them? He talked about it for weeks!" 259


"How old would he have been then?" "It was before Altah came, so he can't have been much more than twelve." "And four in mind but a hundred in spirit." "What?" "He never got beyond the level of a preschooler as far as learning goes, or understanding what went on around him. He never understood numbers, or learned to read, but he was wiser in some things than many folk who live to a ripe old age." "And he never knew it." "That was part of his wisdom. He taught me what it is to really trust God, in the way that he trusted everyone. He took people's word literally—" "And didn't some people take advantage of that!" "Yes, even his own family used that to tease him, sometimes," Carl said, "I feel rather ashamed of that now." "I don't think he ever held it against you," Emma replied, "He knew how to tease, too, now and then. Don't forget the pranks he got up to, especially when Rasesh was here!" She straightened up suddenly. "I almost forgot to tell you—Rose was sorting out some of the things she'd put in the attic, and she gave me this box." She went to the desk, picked up the box and brought it over to him, and placed it on his lap. Carl looked at the slim plastic box, the sort used to store documents many years before the Protectorate. "Well, she's had this a while, hasn't she?" he remarked, examining the box, "This is practically an antique." "Never mind the box," Emma said, "It's what's inside that matters!" He put the box down on his knees and slowly lifted the lid off. Emma had sat down again and she fidgeted with impatience. He glanced at her and grinned. "From the way you're behaving, Em, I can tell that this box contains something very special." He put the lid down on the seat next to him, and stared in astonishment at what opening the box had revealed. He gulped and swallowed hard, but he couldn't stop the tears that had suddenly sprung to his eyes. Emma leant against his shoulder and sighed. Together they gazed at an enlarged photograph of Benjamin at the age of three. He was dressed up in the little formal suit he had worn as ring-bearer for Carrie's wedding. His dark brown eyes shone with delight and his light brown hair was a mess which contrasted with the neatness of his suit. What hit Carl most about the photograph, however, was that he'd never seen it before. "Where did Rose get this from?" he whispered. "Rose said Jack took it that day when they visited us just after we'd got back from the wedding. Benjy'd wanted to dress up in his suit to show them, and they went for a walk down to the Park with him. She was going through the box with all their photos and negatives, and she realised that she'd never sent us this enlargement which they'd had made for us." "It's amazing," Carl said, holding the picture up and gazing at it in awe, "This is Benjy through and through. It's as if Jack was able to capture all

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that 'specialness' on the film somehow. I've never seen any other photo of him quite like this one. He wasn't especially photogenic, after all." "I was amazed by the photo, too," Emma said, "Especially the look in his eyes." She sat up and he looked at her quizzically. "You know," she said, "It's the same look you had in your eyes all those years ago, that last time we were in your office, when you told me that you knew that your Redeemer lives. Remember?" He smiled. "I couldn't see my own eyes, Em..." he pointed out. "Well, you can now," she replied, indicating the photo, "It was the same look as Benjy has in that photo. Different-coloured eyes, same look. Eyes that have had a glimpse of heaven." Carl frowned at his wife. "You can remember after all these years?" he asked. "As if it had only just happened, Carl. How could I ever forget it?" He gazed at the photograph again. "Yes... In a way it is as if it'd only just happened, isn't it?" he said pensively, "Isn't time a funny thing? It shrinks and stretches without warning..." He glanced at her and smiled, and put the photo in the lid of the box. "We'll have to get that framed," he said, "Let's see what else is in this box." What he found was a collection of photographs of Benjamin and his family, covering every year and every important occasion of Benjy's life. He looked through them slowly, in silence, with Emma leaning on his shoulder. He kept swallowing hard as each photograph brought back memories of his son, but as he reached the bottom of the box he could no longer hold back the tears, and he flung the box to one side, put his arms around Emma and hid his face on her shoulder. He wept brokenheartedly, and she held her arms around him and prayed silently for him as her own tears flowed. How she thanked God that Carl could finally let his grief out and that she could be with him. After a while he stopped crying, and sat up and wiped his face with his handkerchief. Emma took his hand and they just sat together, in silence. There was no need for words. Without warning, Carl jumped up and hurried out of the room. Emma, taken by surprise, wondered what he was up to, but she stayed where she was. She could hear his footsteps as he took the stairs two steps at a time and as he went into their bedroom, above the study. He came back less than three minutes later, carrying his flute case. She watched him without saying anything, but there was joy and relief in her heart. He hadn't touched his flute at all since that awful day of Benjy's death. He put the case down on the desk and stared at it a moment before opening it. Then, slowly and carefully, he took out the flute and assembled it. He became aware of Emma watching him, and he glanced at her and grinned sheepishly. She smiled back encouragingly and sat back on the sofa, ready to listen. "This might not sound too good," he said quietly, "I'm rather out of practice..." He blew a few notes, then played some scales and slow studies for a few minutes. Encouraged to find that he could still produce a good 261


tone, he played some more difficult studies, then switched to a Bach sonata. He was soon lost in the music, and Emma found herself greatly comforted to see and hear her husband in that attitude again. She closed her eyes and listened to him pouring himself into his playing, and remembered how Benjy used to sit absolutely still, in rapturous attention, whenever Carl played his flute. Once he'd warmed up thoroughly, he started to play Benjy's favourite hymn, and then launched into playing all the hymns and songs that Benjy had known by heart. He was startled, and almost stopped playing, when the sound of another flute joined his as he was halfway through one of Benjy's songs. He'd had his back to the door, and he turned around and saw that Andrew, followed by Karen, had come into the room with his own flute. Behind them was the rest of the household, their faces wreathed in smiles. Ben and Emma started singing, and soon all the others were singing too. Carl finished with his own favourite hymn, "And Can It Be that I Should Gain". When they finished playing, Andrew and he put their flutes down on the desk and hugged each other. Soon everyone else joined in the hugging, laughing and crying at the same time. "When we heard the flute, Dad," Helen said, "we knew you were back and that everything'll be all right, and Benjy didn't live in vain." Carl looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean—you knew that I was back?" he asked. Helen glanced at Emma, then looked back at her father. "When you were so, uh, so depressed," she explained softly, "it was as if you'd gone away and a complete stranger had taken your place..." Carl put his arms around his daughter and hugged her gently. "Oh, Helen, I'm sorry," he said sadly, "I really did make it hard for you all, didn't I?" "It's all right, now, Dad," she replied, "You're back to normal now and we're so glad." Andrew had noticed the photograph in the lid on the sofa. "Hey, where did you get this?" he asked, picking it up, "It's the best photo of Benjy I've ever seen, by a long way!" "It's from Auntie Rose," Emma said, "We want to get it framed." Andrew looked at his father, then at the photo, and back again at Carl. "Gosh, Dad," he said, "I'd never realised until now how much Benjy looked like you. His eyes were brown like Mum's, but otherwise he looked a lot like you." Ben looked over his shoulder at the photograph. "He's right, you know," he said, "Benjy did look like you." Carl came over and looked at the photo again. "Looks like Benjy to me," he said, "I guess I can't see myself that well—I can't compare." "Never mind," Emma said, putting her arm around his waist, "We don't need to compare. Benjy was himself and you're yourself and that's the way it should be."

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! ! ! The day after Carl's recovery, Andrew asked cautiously if he could have a talk with him. Carl was surprised at Andrew's diffidence. "Of course you can," he said, "Why are you asking me in that way?" "Uh, it's been a bit difficult to talk to you lately," Andrew said slowly, "I guess I've got into the habit of treading carefully." His father looked at him sadly. "I really did make the last three weeks terrible for everyone, didn't I?" he said softly, "That you should all feel that you need to approach me as if I were a bomb about to explode..." Andrew smiled. "That, you certainly are not, Dad," he said. He had never witnessed Carl's temper, though his father had told him a little about what he'd been like before Jesus Christ had saved him. "It's just that you were obviously hurting so much, and we didn't want to make your pain worse," Andrew went on, "so we were afraid to say anything in case it made it harder for you." "Hmmm... I hope I'll never do that to you again," Carl said quietly, "Thank you for your patience with me all that time. You're a blessing, Andrew. All of you are. Altah, too." He turned to move towards the study. "Anyway, what did you want to talk about?" Andrew hesitated slightly before speaking. "The same two topics we were discussing the day Benjy died," he said at last, "if you don't think it's inappropriate." They went into the study and Carl closed the door. "Let's sit down," he said, and took a seat on the sofa. Andrew sat in the armchair facing him. "I don't think it's at all inappropriate," Carl said, "Just because Benjy is gone doesn't mean life has stopped for the rest of us." He looked down at his hands for a moment. "Even if I thought it had," he added softly, and looked up again. Andrew nodded, and smiled briefly. "It's over now, Dad," he said. His face grew serious. "I've come to a decision about what work I want to do, Dad," he said, "and I've withdrawn my application for the Ministry of Ag position." "Ah?" Carl said, but he didn't seem to be surprised, "So what have you decided to do, then?" "I would like to be your deputy here and to continue the work after you," Andrew replied. "My deputy? You mean you'd like me to employ you?" Carl said. "I suppose that's what it would be, legally speaking," Andrew said, "but you needn't give me a salary, just room and board and training, and I can continue to earn a little to make ends meet by doing some agricultural consulting just as I've been doing so far." "Room and board..." Carl said, "Even after you get married?" "We could do up the cottage near the woods..." Andrew replied. "It's in pretty bad shape," Carl said doubtfully, "It would need a lot of repairs."

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"I had a look at it, Dad," Andrew said earnestly, "It's salvageable." Carl laughed. "I'm sure it is," he said, "Just. It's still standing, anyway." He grew serious again and gazed thoughtfully at his son for some moments. He recalled the many episodes when he'd felt that his son understood him better than he understood himself, and the way he'd so often encouraged other people when they were hurting. He also remembered Andrew's intense concentration on his agricultural studies, and his anxiety about the job with the Ministry of Agriculture. "Andrew," he said at last, "What is it that you really want to do?" Andrew didn't hesitate in his answer. "We want to do the same things you and Mum do, Dad—run Beth-El Farm, disciple people, look after handicapped people, share the Gospel. We want to be there when someone needs help, when they need encouragement..." "Have you asked the Lord if this is what He wants you to do?" "Karen and I've been praying for guidance for ages, Dad. This is the answer—I'm sure of it, and so is Karen." He looked down at his hands and lowered his voice. "I, uh, realised that it's what I most want to do," he went on, "and what the Lord is leading me to do, when I... uh, you... uh, were upset out there by the pylon, yesterday..." His father stared at him a moment. It had been his own son, Andrew, that God had used to bring him out of his depression. How grateful he'd been for Andrew's strength at that moment! "You were certainly right there when I needed help," he said slowly. He stood up and went to the window, and looked out for a moment. There would be many other people who would be grateful for his son's strength and encouragement. He thought of how good Andrew had always been with Benjy and with the other children who had lived at Beth-El Farm over the years, and of his ability to relate to people of all ages. The idea of Andrew being stuck behind a desk in an office at the Ministry of Agriculture had bothered him tremendously. Andrew was meant to work with people, not papers. He turned back to his son with a smile. "I've been praying about your future, too," he said, "ever since you were born. I've seen the Lord answer my prayers again and again, and now I'm seeing it once more. I believe that the step you want to take is the right one. That Min of Ag job never gave me any peace. This does." "Same here, Dad. I wasn't overly anxious about that job, but I wasn't happy about it either. When the thought of staying on here came to me I felt as if a weight had been lifted from me, and when I told Karen about it, she was really excited, because she'd been feeling the same thing." "Which brings us to the topic of marriage," Carl said, "Specifically, Karen's and yours." Andrew grinned. "That's right," he replied. "It seems to me," Carl said, "from what you told me before, that it would do more harm than good to keep putting it off. If you're going to work here, you might as well start right away. That means you have a job. It won't pay much, but I have no problem—and I doubt that your mother will have any— with continuing to provide room and board for you, so you don't have to go looking for housing—" 264


"But I'll have to fix up that cottage!" Carl laughed. "Your mother and I also had to fix up a cottage before we were married," he said, "so I can't see any problem with that either." "Shall we set a date, then?" Andrew asked. "We'd better do that in consultation with the other people involved," Carl said, "Don't you think?" "Karen and Mum, you mean? And I was going to ask Altah to be best man. I guess I have to ask him too. His teaching schedule isn't at all flexible." "And you need to ask whoever else in this household that you want to be a part of your wedding." "Which is all of them, of course. Sounds like we'll have to have a full conference about it!" "Our evening family time will do, I think. Why don't you have a chat with Karen and suggest some dates to us all, tonight?" "I'll do that, Dad," Andrew said slowly. He looked down at his hands, clasped and unclasped them several times, then looked up at his father, who was watching him. "Uh, Dad," he said softly, "I'd like some advice..." "About what?" Carl asked. "About being a husband." "Anything in particular?" "Oh, everything, really. I want to be a good husband for Karen, Dad." "You know where the answers are, don't you?" Carl asked. "Yeah, in the Scriptures," Andrew replied, "D'you think we could talk about them, though?" "Of course we can, Andrew. I think it would be a good idea for you and I to do a Bible study on the topic together. And I think it would be a good idea to have a study with Karen and your mother as well." Andrew smiled. "You and Mum are a good example for us, you know, Dad. Uncle Ron was telling me the other day that whenever we have a problem we'll have to do what he and Auntie Rose do—they ask themselves what you and Mum would do, and they always come up with the same answer." "Oh?" Carl said, "And what's that?" "Look up what God has to say about it."

! ! ! A year later Helen and Emma were sitting in the study going through the family photo albums. "Benjy would have enjoyed Andrew and Karen's wedding, too, wouldn't he?" Helen said, as they looked at the photos of that event. "Benjy enjoyed almost everything," Emma said, "The only times he wasn't happy were when he was sick." "And when he was afraid of the wind," Helen reminded her, "or when the New Protectioners kidnapped him."

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"Yes, those two episodes were very unpleasant," Emma agreed, "but we can thank God for the way things turned out well in the end." "Benjy was very special. I still miss him, you know." "So do I. When I was expecting him I had no idea, of course, that there was anything wrong with him, and when he was born with Down's syndrome I was rather afraid of what that would mean for our family's life. But your father reminded me that all children are special, including those who are not what is known as normal. That reminded me that while I'd been expecting Benjy I'd been looking forwards to having another child and so I could enjoy Benjy as a person, just as I would have if he'd been normal." Helen patted her own stomach and sighed. "Mum, how did you feel when you were expecting Andrew and me?" she asked. "D'you mean, physically?" Emma asked. "No, I mean, how did you feel about it? Was it exciting, or scary, or something like that?" "Oh, it was very exciting, especially when we realised we were expecting twins. But I must admit that it suddenly became very frightening when I thought your father had been killed, only some four weeks before you were due." "Altah's really excited about our baby," Helen said, "He told me he can hardly wait for the day when he or she will be born." "He'll make a good father," Emma said, "He's a good husband." "You know, he's been doing a study of what the Bible says about fatherhood. He says it's quite a challenge." "Your father would certainly agree with that." "He suggested I study what it says about being a mother." "Are you doing that?" "I haven't started yet, but I will." "You'd better start soon—once this baby's born you won't have much time." "I'd like to do it with you, Mum." "Well, I'd be happy to do a study like that with you, Helen, but I only have so much time. Karen's asked me the same thing." "Is Karen expecting already?" "She just told me today." "Why don't we do it together, then? Karen often has insights I don't have." "I'm sure she'd be happy to do that—we can ask her when she gets back from town." "You know, Mum, I think Andrew made a good choice, marrying Karen. She's a really nice person. She's so different from me, and yet we get on really well. She has a lot of respect for Andrew, too." "You prayed about a husband, and in the same way Andrew prayed for a long time that God would find a wife for him, even though he didn't know very many Christian girls." Helen giggled. "D'you remember how he met Karen, Mum?" she asked, "At that chamber concert he and his friends organised?" 266


"Of course I do!" Emma laughed, "It was Benjy who introduced them! Little did he know that he was matchmaking!" Carl came into the study at that moment and heard what Emma said. He smiled as he recalled the occasion of Andrew and Karen's first meeting. "Karen thought Benjy was very charming, the way he asked her if she'd enjoyed Andrew's flute playing." "Of course, he'd gone round to everyone in the audience and asked the same question," Helen pointed out. "But Karen was the only one who pursued the topic and asked him if he knew Andrew," Emma said. "So Benjy took her by the hand and dragged her over to meet his big brother!" Carl added. "And I guess you could say it was love at first sight," Emma said. "Especially when Andrew learned that Karen plays the violin," Carl chuckled. "It's just as well we have no more children to marry off," Emma said, "What would we do without Benjy?" "We have six more children," Carl said quietly, "Linda could get married, if the right fellow came along." "I meant children of our own, Carl," Emma said, "and by the way, Linda had another memory lapse this morning." "Oh, no," Helen exclaimed, "They're getting more and more frequent, aren't they?" "I'm afraid so," Emma said, "It looks like she's going the same way as Megan did." "Megan went downhill awfully fast..." Helen murmured, "In the end she didn't know any of us at all. And she couldn't do anything for herself. It was awfully hard to watch it happening." "Well, just remember that Megan is well and perfectly—and I mean perfectly—normal now," Carl said, "and both she and Benjy are enjoying the Lord forever." "Is Linda scared, Mum?" Helen asked, "She can remember quite well what happened to Megan. And she's read about it, too." "When she recovered from that lapse this morning I sat down and had a good talk with her," Emma said, "and she did tell me that she's afraid she'll end up like Megan. I told her that she doesn't need to be afraid, that God loves her and won't allow anything to happen to her without providing her with the strength to cope with it, and that we love her and will always look after her." "D'you think that helped?" Carl asked. "Well, I also told her that just because she's forgetful now and then doesn't mean she's going the same way as Megan. It could just mean she's over-tired. I think she's all right at the moment." "If Benjy hadn't died he might also have gone downhill mentally in the end," Helen commented, "I'm glad he didn't go have to go through that." "The same would have applied, though," Carl said, "God would have given him—and us—the ability to cope with it." 267


There was a knock at the study door, and Ben came in, followed by Altah, Andrew, and Karen. "Uh, These people were wandering around looking for you folks," Ben said, "so I thought I'd better bring them in here." Emma laughed. "Thank you, Ben," she said, "but I think they just might have been able to find us on their own." "You never know with these expecting parents, you know," Ben said, "They've got their heads in the clouds half the time." "Oh, yes," Helen said, jumping up from the sofa despite her bulk, and giving Karen and then Andrew a hug, "Congratulations, you two!" "Mum told you, did she?" Karen asked. "That's right," Helen said, "Was it a secret?" "Oh, no," Karen replied happily, "I want the whole world to know!" Andrew grinned at his sister. "Karen's rather pleased at the idea of being a mother," he said. "Are you pleased at the idea that you'll be a father in a few months' time?" Helen asked. Andrew's face went red. "I'm a father already, Helen," he said softly, "Karen's a mother, just like you. We've been parents from the moment these children were conceived." Helen gazed at him soberly. "You're right," she said at last, "It's a bit scary, isn't it?" Altah, smiling, put his arms around her. "It's a bit scary, yes," he said, "but it's also very exciting and I'm looking forwards to the day when you're not the only one who can hold this child of ours." He took her hand and turned around to face the rest of the family in the room. "And now I have an announcement to make," he said. "Oh, yes," Helen said, "That's right. I'd almost forgotten!" "We know your wife's expecting," Ben said, grinning, "It shows." Altah grimaced at him. "That's not what this is about," he said, "My announcement is about after our child is born. If God allows." "What do you want to tell us?" Carl asked. "After our baby is born, Helen and I will go to Mongolia." Emma gasped, and Carl sat down next to her and took her hand. Altah smiled at his parents-in-law. "It's all right," he said, "We won't be going permanently. I've been offered a very good position here and we'll only be gone for six months. I haven't seen my parents and brothers and sisters for many years now, and I would like to spend some time with them. They would like it too, but from their letters I know that they will be happy for us to come back here, because they understand and they believe God wants us back here too." "Altah's been saving up for the fares and he'll make the bookings as soon as our baby's been born," Helen said, "We'll probably go when the baby's three months old." "Well, this is a surprise," Ben said, "What's this position you've been offered?" "Yours, actually, Uncle Ben," Altah said, grinning.

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Ben wheeled around to face Carl, his hands on his hips. "This is the fellow you want me to train?" he said in astonishment, "This bloke with a doctorate in Veterinary Physiology?" Carl was grinning, his blue eyes dancing. "That's right," he said, "Any objections?" Ben turned slowly and looked at Altah for a long moment. "None at all," he said at last, slowly, and went to put a hand on Altah's shoulder. "You're giving up that university post they offered you in Ulanbataar?" he asked quietly. "Yes, Uncle Ben, I am," Altah replied, "I'd rather work here at Beth-El Farm. I had a long discussion about that job with Dad and with Uncle Henry when he was here last month, and the three of us prayed about it for several days. In the end Dad offered me the position of farm manager after you retire from it and he said that in the meantime you'd train me while I continue with my tutoring job at Apmirra. He told me he'd discussed it with you without being specific about who he had in mind. I'll only have a sixmonth posting in Ulanbataar, and then we'll come home." "This is home, then?" Andrew asked. Altah turned to him with a smile. "You bet it is," he said. Ben patted his shoulder. "We'll miss you while you're away," he said, "but we'll all be waiting to welcome you home when you come back!" Emma squeezed Carl's hand. "I was afraid they were going for good," she whispered to him, "Why didn't you tell me you'd offered him that job?" "He wanted it to be a surprise," Carl whispered back. "It's a lovely surprise," Emma said, "but it'll be hard on his family." "They wrote me a long letter about that," Carl said, "They said that they'd prayed for a long time about Altah and what he should be doing. In the end they agreed that even though it'll be hard for them, it's the right thing for him to stay in Pamanyungan. Of course, they're thrilled that he'll be spending six months over there. They're looking forwards to meeting Helen." "And their grandchild too, I'm sure." "Yes. I hope you don't mind my doing all this without telling you, Em. Altah was really keen to get it all organised before telling anyone else. Helen and he had a hard time keeping the secret as it is." "I guess if I'm honest I have to admit that I'm a little upset that you didn't tell me, but I'll get over it. I do love you and trust you, Carl." "I know. And I love you, Em, and I thank God for all the wonderful years we've had together, and all the blessings He's poured out on us throughout those years." "God has been so good to us, hasn't He?" "God is good. Even when He allows unpleasant things to happen in our lives, it's because in the end it'll work out for our good. He's promised that, and He keeps His promises. God is good. There's no evil in Him whatsoever. That's why He can tell us to rejoice at all times and to thank Him no matter what." "Isn't He wonderful?"

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"He is, Em. He always has been and He always will be. May His name be praised forever."

Children are a gift from the Lord; the fruit of the womb is a reward from Him. Psalm 127:3

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Not long after Carl and Emma Slade’s third child is born their lives are changed once again. They become aware of families in the Federation that face the same problem they do: the challenges of bringing up a child who is not like other children. Many of these families are unable to cope in a society which offers them no support. It is up to the Slades and their friends to provide a way of helping. As they do so they discover that others in their country have far less noble intentions towards such children.

ISBN 0 9577741 2 5

Symphony For Benjamin

Symphony

Symphony for a Lost Traveler

Napoleon Symphony

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Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

My Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

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Unfinished Symphony

Unfinished Symphony

Unfinished Symphony

Napoleon Symphony

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Dark Symphony

Walter Benjamin

Papa Benjamin

The dark symphony

Symphony For Benjamin

Symphony

Symphony for a Lost Traveler

Napoleon Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

My Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Dark Symphony

Unfinished Symphony

Unfinished Symphony

Unfinished Symphony

Napoleon Symphony

The Symphony

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Dark Symphony

Walter Benjamin

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