Hanley said, “One last question, Father. Have any Americans ever worked in your mission?”
“No, they have not.”
Madame Paulinier offered to complete her history of the Loire Valley and Normandy. Father Bertrand suggested she abbreviate the lesson as she still had three hundred years to go and the evening might not be long enough to accommodate her profound knowledge. She took this as a compliment and continued with the lesson.
The hosts and guest moved to the living room where the lesson was completed. Father Bertrand asked Hanley when he started his own businesses and what had been his motivation.
“Well, the idea came to me on the first date I had with my wife. We were at dinner in a little Italian restaurant in Kokomo and we were telling each other our plans for the future. I had been thinking about someday starting my own business, but my plans were not very well thought out. That conversation helped me begin to identify an idea, an idea for my first business. It also led to other things, as you may have guessed,” he said. He had not thought about that dinner for some time. “Lately, I’ve begun to wonder what I might do now that I find myself alone, now that my daughter lives too far away for me to be involved in her life as much as I was before. The truth be known, I haven’t been that involved for some time.”
Turning in his chair, the priest asked Hanley, “Mr Martin, what will you do now, once you return to Indiana?”
Hanley said, “I’m not sure. It seems I’m at a crossroad in my life. I can’t say for sure what got me to this point. It’s hard to identify the combination of people and experiences that render a life, especially after all these years. I’ve always had this need to be useful and it’s greater now than ever. For whatever reason, I also feel I should be doing something else, other than running my business. What is that, time running out on me? I don’t want to grow old and realize I haven’t done enough with my life. I’m not trying to minimize the importance of my family or my businesses. I do believe I need to do more. What that is, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll come and work for you in Africa.”
“We can always use good people.” The priest watched Hanley intently. “Have you ever thought of traveling to Africa?”
“No, I’ve barely been out of Indiana until now.”
“Maybe you should consider it.” He smiled at the American.
Father Bertrand and Madame Paulinier prepared to leave at half past ten o’clock. They said their goodbyes and were at the door when Father Bertrand turned to Hanley and said, “I think you will do something else with your life, something you may not have expected. When the tapestry that is a life unravels, it never looks the same once it’s mended.” He smiled and offered Madame Paulinier his arm as they walked to his car.
***
Hanley finished telling Sister Mary Claire the story of the dinner party. He smiled at her and said, “My decision to come here was not as impetuous as you may think. A series of events pushed me in a direction I had not anticipated. It seemed meant to be. I looked for answers, found some, still need some. I thought perhaps you had them. If all these events brought me here, why not believe it?” he asked.
She looked at the garden, took Hanley’s hand, squeezed it and said, “I will think about my role in all of this. Maybe I am meant to do more than I thought. I will pray for guidance.”
Placing his other hand over hers, Hanley said, “Thank you.”
Near the edge of the clinic, some distance from the garden, Father Robineau watched the nun and the American, saw them standing close to each other, holding hands. Hanley looked up, saw the priest watching them, saw him frown.
18
A smoky filament, caught by the dry wind off the Savannah, twined around the American’s head, sliding across his eyes, pulling moisture from the surface. Hanley rubbed his eyes, spreading new tears to sooth the dryness. The fire he built near the box porch next to his room was not for heat. It was July, the nights in southern Sudan were very warm. He just liked sitting by a fire.
His guilt lasted a second, as the small branch made the arced journey from his hand to the fire. Taking firewood away from others so he could relax was not a good idea. The fire, while small, still produced silky yellow flames. Occasionally ghosts of a blue hue appeared in their centers, backed by the red and orange coals beneath. His eyes now clearer, Hanley watched the flames shudder in the night wind, bending like dandelions, sometimes disappearing, only to pop back again, like ‘flowers in hell’, he said to himself. Sitting on the edge of the porch, he waited for Sister Marie Claire to arrive. Their plan was to continue a discussion that progressed from the original questions of his having been picked by fate for good fortune to one of a more general nature, of the events, in whatever sequence they may take, that influence a life. They talked of the subtle, often unnoticed influence of everyday living, the accumulated occurrences that make one man rich
