BOOK 4: PREPARATION / CH. 28:TITHE
WEDNESDAY, 20TH DECEMBER 7PM
“Sarah, what are you doing?” John asked.
“Reading up on GemSmith company policy. Yesterday I told Bob to do something which might have broken policy, and I didn't know. Everyone was very forgiving, but it could have gone wrong.”
“Oh. So you're making sure you're better informed?”
“Yes.”
“Don't forget Bible-study tonight.”
“I won't. We've got a problem, by the way.”
“Oh?”
“Mission spending has been too low for the last eight and a half years. Know of any missionaries short of cash?”
“How much are we talking?”
“You know IHM's special project fund? Not that much.”
“Good.” John said.
“I think I'm going to need to approach a mission agency. See if they've got a major project coming up.”
“There was that literacy project we were praying about last month.”
“Of course! Thanks, that'll help.”
“Sarah, can you be a bit more forthcoming?”
“Yes, of course, John. Eight and a half years ago, a project my parents were funding to the tune of a hundred-thousand a year came to an end. Seven and a half years ago, someone retired. Six years ago, another missionary came home to look after an aging relative, and told Frank they didn't feel justified in carrying on receiving support. Personally I'd have argued, but Frank didn't. Five years ago another project, fifty thousand a year, ended. Shall I continue?”
“And so you've got lots in the missionary giving account.”
“Yes. In other words, I'm behind on my tithe. Mostly I'd like to support individuals, but that turns into a lot of people. More than I can sensibly pray for. So, I'd like to find some big short term projects too. Like that literacy project.”
“I understand, Sarah. But let's not be late for Bible study.”
“I don't want to be.”
“Good, so shall we get in touch with people we already pray for, ask them if they have any particular support needs?”
“We could. Yes, let's. What about a Christmas present for them, too?”
“We could do that too. I've just had a thought though.”
“Yes?”
“Would it be an acceptable use of the gift?”
“Find people we should give money to?”
“Hmm. I guess so.” John said.
“That sounds a little vague to me. Oh! I've just remembered, I was going to find people with the pain who didn't know what it was, wasn't I?”
“You were. Which is the most important, do you think?”
“How about missionaries in real financial hardship first, then people with the pain who don't know what it is.” Sarah suggested.
“That sounds like the right order to me. How are you going to define hardship?”
“Let's start with not having enough to buy food for the next week.”
“And if we find any, how do we find out how to give to them?”
“We look for someone who knows their support details.”
“OK. But what if they can't buy food because of ID theft, or something like that?”
“Oh, stop complicating things, John, please.”
“OK, love. You're looking and I'm taking notes?”
“Yes, please.”
There weren't many. But there were some. Sarah found four dots, one was actually a family, she found, when she zoomed in.
John jotted down their names. Levi and Rebecca. Sarah looked for people from their mission agency. No one, anywhere. Independent missionaries? Well, what about their supporting church? Again, no one. “John, any ideas? No mission agency, no supporting church.”
“Sent out by a church which has had a split and disbanded, maybe?” John suggested. “How about you look for people who get their prayer letter. There should be some of those surely.”
“I wonder if their letter is on the network somewhere.” Sarah wondered.
“That would certainly make explaining how we found them easier. You're the expert there.”
“OK, here we go, search engine knows quite a lot of rubbish, but maybe it can be helpful for once. Levi and Rebecca, prayer letter. Ooh, look.”
“Well, that explains the lack of mission agency. They left it. But their motives seem valid to me.”
“Poor things.” Sarah said.
“Yes. Look at this note. 'We are sure this is where God wants us, and that God will provide for us abundantly. If the Lord lays it on your heart to be part of our ministry, please do get in touch.'”
Sarah read more “So, they fell out with their mission because it abandoned what they felt was a defining theological point under a new leader, and their sending church agency didn't agree with them doing that and cut support. That's a bit tough, isn't it?”
“Yes. I guess there's more to it.”
“There probably always is. But right now, they've got hungry kids.” Sarah pointed out.
“So, you're going to support them?”
“I'm going to call them,” Sarah said, “and I'm going to ask them how much they spend on food in a month, and send it.”
She called the network ID they'd given.
“Hello? Rebecca speaking.”
“Hello. You don't know me, but I've just been reading your prayer letter. Without getting into theological points, what would you need to feed your family properly for the next month, and where do I send it?”
“We don't ask for money, please, if you want to give, let it be between you and the Lord how much that is.”
“Rebecca, I really hope you can help. I think the Lord is leading me to give you enough to feed your family for the next month, that's why I'm asking you how much that is. I don't know what food costs where you are, and I don't want to disobey God.”
“Can I ask, how did you find our newsletter?”
“Oh, this is complicated. My parents left me money in trust, and it's just been given to me. They'd been instructing the bank to put ten percent of the interest, dividends and so on into an account for mission, but one of the missionaries they were supporting retired, and another left the field to care for a relative and asked the trustees to stop supporting her. So you see, I didn't know it, but I'm behind on my tithe. I asked the Lord to lead me to hungry missionaries, and I searched around the network and saw your newsletter.”
“And you're sure that the Lord has led you to us, and told you we need food for the next month?”
“I'm sure the Lord has led me to you, I'm sure you're hungry or will be soon. I think the one month of food is from the Lord too. I'm not as sure as the other aspects. I was wondering how much and that came to mind.”
“I think I'm going to need to ask my husband. You understand that the issue of not asking for money is the one that the agency changed their mind on. They went from never asking to running a blatant begging campaign.”
“I understand. But surely there's a difference between asking for money and responding to a direct question of what you need? Actually, of course, I haven't even asked that. Just, how much do you need for food for the next month.”
“You actually asked for my family. That's not the same as how much food we need.”
A flash of knowledge came to Sarah. “You need to feed fifty three orphans, three dogs who the orphans play with, and two cats. You think you only have a small jar of rice. There is also a sack holding up a shelf.”
“Who are you?” Rebecca was shocked.
“I'm called Sarah, and sometimes God tells me things. Sorry if that startled you. I know how much to give now. Can you tell me your bank details please?”
“It's a miracle!”
“Yes. But I'm about to be late for Bible study. Bank details, please!”
Rebecca gave them, then said “I don't know how you can be so blasé about miracles, Sarah.”
“God is good, he meets us where we are, and likes to surprise us. But I'm afraid that I've grown rather used to surprises like that over the past half a year. But Rebecca, every time you don't tell people your needs when they ask, you are asking that God will perform a miracle. If you have been called to do that by God, that is trust and obedience, if not, well, please think about what that might be called. I'll call tomorrow to check the transfer has got to you. I trust God far more than the banking industry.”
“Thank you, Sarah, for your support.”
“We serve the same Lord, Rebecca.” Sarah said, closing the connection. Turning to John she said: “Well, that took longer than I thought it would.”
“Can we go, then?”
“Yes. Praise the Lord for intervening.”
“Indeed. Fifty three orphans and not sharing their needs?”
“And yet surprised by a miracle quite that blatant.” Sarah said, putting on her coat. “So, prayer topic sometime is whether we're called to support them monthly.”
“So, do we jog, turn up late, or call a transport?”
“Transport, or we'll be very late. Another bit from that intervention. I'm going to tell someone with the pain to turn from her sinful path tonight.”
“Really?”
“Apparently.”
“I'll pray for wisdom then, to go with that knowledge, while the transport comes.”
“And I'll find out where she is.” and she looked for people with the pain, who didn't understand what it was. There was was a dot there. Sarah looked at the skin of the room she was in. She was called Tabitha Bailey.
“Do you know it's this side of the study?”
“There was urgency.” Sarah said [We're going near here{image}] “She's called Tabitha Bailey.”
“You sound so confident. Aren't you nervous about this?”
“Of course. But let's not start to disobey God, and let's seek peace in the transport.”
----------------------------------------
As they got out of the transport, Sarah saw a teenage girl furtively climbing out of a window of a house and starting to to come towards them. She checked where Tabitha was; it was her.
“Here she comes now.” Sarah said, “Hide.”
“Anything you say. You're the expert.”
“Hmm.” Sarah said, which meant that she wasn't. She wasn't very used to talking to teenagers, certainly not ones with the pain. She wasn't entirely sure what to do. Then, when she was close enough for someone with the pain to hear she decided she was going to let Tabitha know she had the pain too. It was easiest. “Hello Tabitha,” she said.
“I don't know you, do I?” Tabitha asked, warily. Sarah guessed she was about fourteen.
“I don't think so. But you get piercing headaches in crowds. If you don't get away, then you feel you might scream, or even pass out. I don't recommend screaming, though, because then people rush towards you to find out what's wrong, which makes it worse.”
“You.... you sound like you know that.”
“I get the same thing. It's part of the power, in case you hadn't worked that out. You've got a better receiver than most people with it. We call it the pain.”
“There's no escape?”
“Stay near people who love you and cherish you. Parents are good. So's a husband, later on, of course. Grab hold of their hand when it's too bad. Let them know you need to feel their love and protection. When you're on your own, praying helps. Or you can hide your thoughts for a bit. Don't do that too long or you'll get stuck.”
“Hiding thoughts makes it stop? That's fantastic!”
“Just don't get stuck.”
“I don't want to. I never thought it might be some part of the power!”
“So you don't need to be sneaking off after illegal drugs, do you? They're not going to help unless you dose yourself unconscious.”
“How...?” Tabitha asked, shocked.
“God told me, just like he told me where you were, and that you had the pain too. By the way, if you want to hear something so wonderful it'll bring tears to your eyes, stick your head into a church full of people genuinely singing their hearts out to God. A special treat that makes up for the pain if you ask me. No one else gets to hear it except us, God and his angels.”
“I don't understand.”
“The pain is your brain failing to sort out what all the noisy people are thinking, just in case there's something about you. It fails because they're all thinking different things at the same time and you're hearing too many. During worship, most of them are thinking the same thing. It's beautiful. It's also pretty quiet when during the sermon, depending how good the speaker is. You'll want to get out quick when the service is over, though.”
“This has to be the weirdest reason I've ever heard for going to a church.”
“Add it to the real ones then. God is real. He's just sent me to warn you about wrecking your life and seriously damaging your relationship with your parents. You have a rare ability, coupled with a drug addict's need for more money you'd probably end up using it on the wrong side of the law. If that happened, eventually I might be one of the people called on strip you of the power. Don't take that road, Tabitha.”
“That's real? What Bob McDaniel said about people having the power taken from them?”
“It's real.”
“Do you have the mind-reading gift? Is that how you knew about the drugs?”
“What, you think I decided to tune through the thoughts of everyone in the city in search of a good deed? Or that for some reason I was spying on you? No. God told me you had the pain and needed to be talked to.”
“How many have the pain, do you know?”
“Someone with the gift told me it's about two percent of women with the power.”
“So the reason it only started recently...”
“Is an age thing, yes.”
“Not because I kissed someone.”
“No. I presume you've been kissing your parents most of your life.” Sarah said with a smile, then stopped smiling when she had the thought “And was that boy the one who suggested drugs, and told you where to get them?”
“Yes.”
“Dump him. He's bad news for you. Very very bad news. Drugs aren't sane, Tabitha; they destroy lives. Does he have the power?”
“No.”
“That's a relief then. You've got plenty of time.”
“That's your husband, hovering over there?”
“Yes. He probably thinks we're late. Which we are. Are you going up the drain-pipe or through the front door? And would you like me to explain to your parents you're not mentally ill or something?”
Tabitha was nervous “I'm grounded already.”
“Your parents know about you having the power?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else in the family with it?”
“My Granddad. His little party trick he calls it.”
“Does he live nearby?”
“No.”
“So, would you like to sneak home, and pretend nothing happened, or would you like to face the music with someone to explain things to your parents?”
“There's no way for me to have found out about this pain without meeting you is there?”
“Not unless you subscribe to a specialist journal on psychological disturbances. I can't remember which one, but my case got published a month or so ago.”
“My Dad's a doctor.”
“And he hasn't told you about what illegal drugs do to you?”
“OK, OK, it was a stupid idea, but I was desperate.”
“So was I, but I never took the route you were about to take. So, do I talk to him?”
“Yes, please.”
“We're going to be really late!” John said.
“I think it's worth it. Go on, be useful; ring the doorbell and talk psycho-medical stuff to Tabitha's dad.”
“Oh, thanks dear.” John said, and wondering what he was going to say, he went up to the door and rang the doorbell.
A man opened it. “Hello, urm, my wife's just talking to Tabitha beside the road. She's your daughter?”
“Yes. Yes she is. And in bigger trouble than she used to be, even.”
“I won't keep you for long, but this is going to sound very unusual, but we're here because Tabitha and my wife share a rare form of the thought-hearing power, and God told my wife to come and talk to her. Tabitha's headaches, my wife has them too, — they're an aspect of the power. Caused by a hypersensitivity to thoughts. Most people with the power can only hear decisions within a range that's age-correlated from three to five metres. Tabitha's range is probably going to get up to thirty before she turns twenty. If she's in a busy place then that's too much input for the rest of the brain to cope with and it manifests as extreme pain. The IHM's just published an article on the phenomenon.”
Her father processed that quickly; “So it's not psychological or even pathological?”
“No. It's an over-stimulation effect, possibly related to the effects of a migraine, but from another cause. Medication won't help, at least, nothing short of a general anesthetic. My wife was tried on pretty much everything. The easiest solution is for her to avoid crowds. However, there are other factors that can make life bearable for her.”
“I'm listening.”
“The sensitive range seems to be related to stress as well as age. Anything that reduces the range is a good thing, as it reduces the input. We don't quite know what the brain is trying to do, but my wife describes it as like the way that you can hear comments about yourself in a noisy room, and the brain is able to tune out the rest. That filtering seems to be the part that cannot cope. But, anyway, the presence of a loved one who is seeking to reassure the subject seems to reduce the range by about half. Physical contact with that person further reduces the range. I don't know if she's discussed this with you, but she knows how to hide her thoughts, which also disables her thought-hearing entirely. In a very crowded room, that would still be necessary for her, and she should only hide her thoughts for a few minutes. But it would enable her to escape the situation without suffering a paralysing attack. Combine those factors and a relatively normal life is quite possible, though she certainly shouldn't be expected to sit in the middle of a crowd.”
“When you say a loved one?”
“From what we've found so far, parents, husband and fiancé qualify, but maybe another trusted relative might do as well.”
“The sort of person you'd be able to share anything with, then?”
“Possibly, though perhaps more a person you'd not share stuff with but would still expect unconditional protection from.”
“Hmm. Like a father whose daughter is out on the road instead of in her room?”
“For instance, yes.” John said. “I hope that what I've said has been helpful.”
“It's published, you say?”
“Yes, most of it, in 'Advances in Brain studies and Psychology.'”
“And you're one of the authors?”
“The Institute for the Human Mind is the named author. Beyond that, I couldn't comment.”
“I see.”
“Now if you'll excuse us, I think we're late enough for our Bible study.”
“You don't find the fact that religious experience is all explainable in terms of brain chemistry puts a dampener on your faith?” Tabitha's father asked.
“Love is equally 'explainable'. I've never heard that given as a reason to not buy flowers for one's wife.” John said, and sent to Sarah, [I really hope you're finished. We should have been there five minutes ago. And if you remember, we're leading the study.]
[Good job it's not too far away.]
“That's different, you can't equate God with your wife!” Protested Tabitha's father.
“That's true. God's far less likely to throw unjust accusations around, or go off in a huff. I'd love to stay and debate this, but as I say, we're late. Goodbye!”
“Goodbye.”
“Oops, time to go. Bye, Tabitha. Maybe we'll see you at church?” Sarah asked.
“Somehow, I think I'm not going anywhere for a year or two.”
“There is that. But that's only because you've broken their trust in you and shown you can't make sensible decisions on your own. Maybe you'll learn to be a bit more sensible sometime.”
“Go on, grind my face it in.”
“Well, don't you deserve it?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Coming, beloved?” Sarah said, as John arrived.
“Just as soon as we've seen that Tabitha's going back where she should be.”
“Dad's going to kill me.”
“No, that's what you were trying to do. Your parents have been trying to keep you safe, I expect. Think about it.” Sarah said.
Tabitha did and by the time she was at the door she was close to tears of genuine repentance. “Sorry Dad. I shouldn't have done it.”
----------------------------------------
WEDNESDAY, 20TH DECEMBER, 10.30PM
As she liked to do, Sarah helped Hannah tidy up after the meeting was over. “May, shouldn't you be asleep?” Sarah asked, meeting her in the kitchen.
“I need some advice.”
“From me, John or your parents?”
“Probably all of the above.”
“Oh dear, that sounds serious.” John said, bringing some more cups.
Hannah came in and asked “What sounds serious?”
“May wants parental advice. I hope it's nothing fatal.” John joked.
“Stop it John! I'm allowed to pretend I'm all grown up occasionally, aren't I?”
“Of course!”
“So, what should I do?”
“How about supply us with some more information?” Hannah suggested.
“The store, mum.”
“Oh, that. Having decided they don't want to fine May two weeks' wages, they're now offering her a pay rise if she'll stay on until they shut at the end of January.”
“How much?”
“Fifty percent,” May said, “and they're going to have me working in the finance office over Christmas.”
“You're going to need to offer her more, Sarah.” John said.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“I want to start with you, Sarah, but it feels like the store have just decided to be nice for a change, and I don't want to let them down. It feels like throwing their change of heart back in their face.”
“Your loyalty is commendable.” Hannah said, “But would you have considered it if they hadn't offered you the fifty percent bonus?”
“Probably not.”
“So how much is it the money talking, or how much is it that they're genuinely being nice?” Hannah prompted.
“Well, they are letting me work in the finance office.”
“Do you know what that's like?” Hannah asked.
“No.”
Hannah probed some more. “Do you get extra pay?”
“No, not as far as I know. But it's a responsible position.”
“Meaning you suffer more stress?”
“Urm. Maybe.”
“So. Let's break it down. You've always wanted to work in the finance office, and now they're letting you. It's going to bring with it the stress of learning a new job, getting to know new people, just when everyone's rushed off their feet. You don't think it's got more pay. You think that it's probably higher stress, but at least you're not with people where you've just been involved in their manager leaving. Is this bonus just for you?”
“No, they're going to offer it to everyone.”
Hannah decided to play devil's advocate. “So, what's possibly happening is they've realised that they're going to need to close down early or pay expensive short-term employees if they don't pay a bonus to stop their staff from jumping ship. They're then going to work you harder than normal, since they're short of staff, and throw 'you're getting paid time and a half, so we want you to work like it.' at you. And of course they're only actually paying you the normal overtime rate anyway, which is hardly going to dent their coffers. And this 'being nice' is really only because they had a change of heart because Teresa threatened them with a lawsuit. Does anyone want to speak on behalf of the defence?”
“It's possible that they finally had a change of heart and decided to not treat their junior staff like easily replaced slaves. I suppose.” Arwood said.
“You don't think they're being nice?” May asked her father.
“Not really, love. I mean, from what you've told us, yesterday they were just about ready to take your money and leave you wrapped up in an administrative mess until the impact came and conveniently erased the data for them. They'll need to pay about three times or four times what you get if they need to hire staff thought an agency. You can work out what the cost difference is.”
“Oh. Yeah, it's cheaper to offer me one and a half times pay for the whole month, isn't it?”
“It is.”
“So... they're not really being nice, are they?”
“Not especially.” Hannah said.
“OK. Sarah, can I start with you half way through January? That's when my contract ends.”
“That doesn't give you much time for self defence classes.” Sarah said.
“Urm, no, it doesn't.”
“I've talked to my old trainer. She's going to run a crash course — and you will be doing a lot of crashing to start with, I can tell you — in January. It'll be an hour and a half, three evenings a week, which is a bit much, I know. But on the other hand it'd get you through the basics. Arwood, Hannah? Any thoughts?”
“Mr Watson doesn't think I'll be getting much homework in January. Mum, Dad, can I?”
“You'd have her start the self defence course before she starts with you?”
Sarah looked at John, who shrugged.
“Actually... I sort of need help now. Not with the interviews, but with getting organised. I'd been wondering, since they'd sacked you, if you could start sooner.”
“Oh. I'm sorry. I promised I'd work out my notice.”
“Oh, don't worry.” Sarah said. “I can try and sort things out on my own.”
“Can't John help?”
“I am helping. I'm doing all the cooking and cleaning, except of course in the spare bedroom, which Sarah is turning into a paper factory.”
“I need to get things organised in my head. I could do it by computer if I had a monitor the size of a wall, but moving bits of paper is cheaper.”
“What are you doing?” May asked.
“Organisational chart, numbers of workers, capital, profitability, where they fit together, things like that. That's one wall. Another wall is other investments, which is more complicated, because they're all pretty much unique. In other words, I'm trying to get my head around what I own, why, and who works with who. I'm also trying to learn what sort of gaps there are, and if there's a particular type of company I should be asking my lawyers to be on the look-out for.”
“Other than a paper-making company.” John said.
“That would be an example, yes.” Sarah said. “I've got quite a lot of woodland, which makes oxygen for everyone and wood as a nice byproduct. Paper is an obvious consumer of wood, and there's still quite a lot of paper used in my company. Would it be worth taking the paper-making in-house or is there an advantage in keeping it outside?”
“That was meant to be a joke.” John added.
“How would I help in this?” May asked.
“Getting stuff into the right format and printing it. The documents are a bit too complex and varied for a computer to get it right without setting a full AI to scan them. John's house computer isn't exactly up to that spec. Plus, of course, I keep changing my mind about what I want printed. And then if you were helping me, I could get you to file it all away in a fully consistent format. Not very exciting, I'm afraid, but useful for me, and also useful for you.”
“So I know how rich you really are?” May asked, not seeing how knowing this sort of thing was going to help her at all.
Sarah laughed, “No, so you know that if I ever say something like I want to talk to Emerald's personnel manager, then you know I am much more likely to mean Emerald health insurance, which is part of my inheritance, not the Emerald coach company, which is most certainly not. Do they still get used for school trips, by the way?”
“Yes,” May pulled a face, “if they were yours they'd have cleaner coaches?”
“Among other things.” Sarah agreed.
“But you've got lots of shares in Emerald Health Insurance so you can just call up the personnel manager?” May asked.
“No, May.” John said gently, “Sarah owns Emerald Health.”
“My great-grandfather set it up.” Sarah supplied.
“Wow.”
“But speaking of health insurance, May, I'd like to talk to you about panic buttons. Do you always carry one?”
“Well, most of the time.” May said.
“Hmm. Hannah, Arwood? Any objections?”
“Not from us. You're sure?”
“Sure about what?” May asked.
“Am I sure that I don't want you to ever be without one if I can help it. And as long as you're working with me, I can. As you become known as my personal assistant you're going to be in a perfect position to be a kidnap victim, May. I'd like you to very seriously consider accepting an implanted panic button. It's not urgent, it's not a requirement, but it'd be reassuring. Since they're not cheap, you'd also sign a document that you've got it as part of your job, and that if you leave my employment then you consent to the surgery to remove it too. No promises about whether I'd actually insist on that or not, it depends on lots of factors.”
“Does John have one?”
“Yes. And it hurts for about a week.” John said.
“And I'm told that removing it hurts for much longer.” Sarah said. “But like I say, it's not urgent. Think about it for a year if you like. It's not worth doing until we've come to the end of the trial period anyway, and we decide we can work together.”
“OK. I'll think about it.”
“Thanks. What are you going to do about the shop?”
“I'm going to keep to my promise, and I'm going to ask my parents and my prospective employer if maybe doing the odd evening here and there might be possible, as long as I don't have any homework.”
“Well, since you're giving up a pay rise for my sake, I'd better say yes, hadn't I?” Sarah said.
“And give her one yourself,” John said. “After all, you wouldn't want her to feel exploited, would you?”
“Certainly not.” Sarah agreed. “All right, May, what do you think about this: now until mid-January, you get a wage of fifty percent more than you were getting at the shop, per hour, then once you've stopped at the shop you get a salary based on eight hours per week as before.”
“Still based on the fifty percent more than the shop's paying me?”
“Any reason why not?” Sarah asked.
“Yes.” Arwood said. “May accepted the contract on the basis of twenty percent more, I think it was. You don't want to start her on an adult salary, surely?”
“Don't worry, Arwood. She's not going to get filthy rich on eight hours a week. And for her role, her adult salary would be more that she's starting on. And maybe with May helping me then John and I get to have some time to relax together, which'd be nice.”
“And of course it always helps to be a generous employer.” John said, “it means staff want to stay on your good side.”
“You make me sound so... mercenary, John!” May protested.
“Sorry, May. I wasn't speaking about you in particular. Just so often employees seem to think that money is all there is to the relationship. I hope you're not thinking that way about working for Sarah.”
“And I hope,” Sarah added, “that you won't feel duty-bound to carry on working for me when it's not really something you want to do any more.”
“You know anyone else looking for a truthsayer-cum-P.A.?”
“Not yet. But maybe you'll get a better offer.”
“You'd be able to out-bid them though, wouldn't you?” May asked with a cheeky grin.
“Not all of them, no. I mean, I'm not going to be able to out-bid an offer of marriage, am I?”
“You mean that you're not going to want me to work for you when I'm married?”
“I think Sarah's saying that if you happen to meet some handsome Christian guy who wants you to stop working for Sarah, for whatever reason, then Sarah's not going to try and outbid him.” Hannah said.
“Exactly,” Sarah agreed, “and I'm not going to try to dissuade you from going to work as a missionary either, if God calls you to that. Or from starting up your own company, or whatever else it is you want to do.”
“What, even if I decided to go over to a competitor of yours?”
“Well, if there's a good reason, then fine. If it's just money, then I'll certainly want to talk to you about it. By the way, your contract will include a strong privacy clause.”
“I expected it would.”
“Good. Is there any more to talk about?”
“Not except for Karen's wedding.” May said.
“Problems?”
“Not really. Just... was she joking when she talked about royalty and heads of state being there? Do you know?”
“I don't know the exact guest list, if that's what you're asking. But I know she's on pretty good terms with at least one foreign head of state, and the young woman he's recently named as his successor. I'm sure they've been invited, but I don't know whether they'll be there or not.”
“Oh. Sarah? Your wedding dress...”
“Hmm?” Sarah asked, noticing that May had hidden her thoughts.
“It made you look like a princess.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
“And it's old.”
“It is.” Sarah acknowledged.
“There was a piece in the papers, showing a Maggie Upton wearing a dress that looked very very like yours, marrying a jeweler called Joshua Smith. They said that was the last time that Princess Sarah's dress had been worn, and speculating about who the mystery cousin was who was going to wear it before Eliza.”
“Well, you don't want to believe everything you read in the papers, do you?”
“No, not when I know better. Karen said there'd be press there.”
“Then I'm sure there will be.”
“And she said 'probably not the King, maybe just Prince Albert.' The press are going to go wild, aren't they?”
“They have a habit of doing that.”
“So, I'm going to be (a) famous as Karen's bridesmaid and (b) famous as your truthsayer.”
“That sounds possible. But I'm pretty good at avoiding the press these days and I'll try and keep you out of the press too.”
“So how on earth do I meet someone who's interested in me because of me, not because I'm famous?”
“I have no idea. Maybe you should become a recluse for fifty years.”
“That's not funny.” May said.
“It's easy, May.” Hannah said “You can just dismiss being Karen's bridesmaid with 'I didn't know who she's related to, she was this student at my dad's church who realised she needed an extra bridesmaid at the last minute.' Any glory hunters then realise that they're not going to get invited to the palace or something because of you. And like Sarah says, she's not exactly going out of her way looking for interviews, is she?”
“How many interviews have you given in the last five years, Sarah?” John asked.
“Do we count 'Stop invading my privacy or I'm calling the police?'” Sarah asked.
“No.”
“Then one, very very weird one. For a secretive little journal for undercover journalists and the sort of human-rights activists who go into unstable countries to interview oppressed people.”
“Why do you say it was weird?” Hannah asked.
“It was an advertisement, but it didn't mention the product itself. Just spoke a little about growing up with a Daddy in the jewelery trade, mostly diamonds, and how pretty they were to play with and lovely to look at through a lens, but not as important as family. And how my family had been snatched away from me. Then it went on to how important privacy had become to me, that I'd got really fed up with reporters seeking glory by interviewing me, but now I had a job where privacy and secrets were very important too. And then there was a little line about sometimes secrets could be best hidden where people wouldn't look twice. Underneath it, but in the same box, there was a little advertisement for my jeweler friend, of the sort that you'd maybe see in a local paper. Totally out of place for the journal. I'd say the advertisement has paid for itself ten times over by now.”
“I don't understand.” May said.
“Nor do I.” Arwood admitted.
“Sarah's come up with a process for turning gem diamonds into data crystals.” John supplied. “But a secret process for keeping secrets in plain sight, say on a ring or a necklace, isn't really the sort of thing that you want to broadcast in plain speech.”
“Oh. I think I get it.” Hannah said, “So you've got an article about playing with diamonds, but them not being as valuable as people, and cherishing secrets and privacy, but hiding secrets in plain sight, all next to a jewelery advert.”
“Yes, and people put two and two together, and then call up my jeweler friend, say something like 'I saw your advert in the journal and wondered if you could help me?' And then my friend then answers like any other jeweler would, and the intrepid interviewer mentions secrets, and my friend then suggests they drop by her shop just before closing time to discuss things in private. Which of course is just the sort of thing that they want to hear.”
“All this stays in the clan, May.” Arwood said, warning May.
“Of course.” May agreed.
John's stomach rumbled loudly, “Sorry. Maybe we should go home and eat, Sarah?”
“I think so.”
“You're not telling me you haven't eaten?”
“We decided to finish what we were working on and then eat.” Sarah said, “Only it got too late to cook anything.”
“I've got some leftovers sitting there in the fridge, why didn't you say something? Sit down! May, knives, forks, plates please!” Hannah said, taking charge.
“If you're sure?” Sarah asked.
“Of course I'm sure. You're clan!”
“Not to mention friends and my new employer.” May said.
“All those relationships are going to get complicated aren't they?” Sarah said.
“No.” May said. “Or at least, only if you decide you can't work with me.”
“You don't think you'll decide you can't work with me?”
“I doubt it.”
“Well, if you do, let me know.” Sarah said, firmly. “I don't care that you got first offer of this job because you're a friend and all the rest. That doesn't mean you stop being a friend and all the rest if we can't work well together.”
“Thank you for saying that, Sarah.”
Arwood asked “Just what was it that delayed you today? More paperwork?”
“No. A divine appointment; I got told to meet someone. Since she was just crawling out of her bedroom window when we got there, God's timing was perfect.”
“Anything you can share?”
“Girl with the pain, about to do something stupid to try and escape it.”
“Not suicide, I hope?” Arwood asked.
“Not quick suicide, no. Her bad-influence boyfriend thought drugs might help, the idiot.”
“What's the pain?” May asked.
“You know I get headaches if there's too many people around? That's what we call the pain.”
“Like Mama had?” May asked.
“Yes. This girl even knew how to hide her thoughts, but didn't know the pain was part of the power.”
“How old was the girl?” May asked.
“Fourteen or so, I'd guess.”
May reached her hand towards Sarah's, and thought [Not Tabitha Bailey?]
[You know her?]
[She's at my school. I taught her to hide her thoughts a couple of months ago. I knew she got headaches sometimes, but I didn't make the link either.]
“Well, she doesn't know my name. She does know about the pain now though.” Sarah said aloud.
“So she's had her own private miracle?” May asked.
“Yes. Well, not so private. John told her Dad the technical side of things.”
“I wonder if I'll see her at school.”
“You know her?” Hannah asked.
“Yes, Mum. I'm an idiot and didn't realise what her headaches were.”
“I'd guess they're going to get more intense as time passes.” Sarah said. “I've told her a few ways to cope.”
“Is there any sure-fire way of telling if someone's got it?” May asked.
“Range is the important one. Blindfolded snowball dodging, for instance. You've probably got a range of three metres, and by the time you're in your fifties it'll be up to five or six. Hers is probably going to reach thirty metres by the time she's twenty.”
“You can fit a lot of people in that range.” Arwood commented.
“Exactly.” Sarah said. “My limit was twenty to forty. Walls pretty much block it, doors not as well, and we still haven't worked out what it is. We've got the touch-based one pretty much sorted out, but decision-hearing is something else, and there isn't much else that ought to be possible.”
“You're sure?” Hannah asked.
“Fairly” Sarah replied.
“That's tricky for you scientist types.”
“Hmm, yes. This tastes good, Hannah, what's the flavouring?” Sarah asked.
“It tastes familiar.” John commented, “Oh no, it's not thoughtful chicken is it?”
“No! It's just lemon and ginger. No magic recipe.”
“I just hope you're right.” Sarah said, then remembered something. “May, you are able to come to talk to Karen tomorrow night, aren't you?”
“I should be. I mean, it's not like I've got homework for Monday.”
“That's true. Hopefully Teresa will have time to get the contract all ready for us both to sign.”
“And I need to reply to the store.”
“You do.” Hannah said. “And you need to be very polite, but firm.”
----------------------------------------
WEDNESDAY, 20TH DECEMBER, EARLY EVENING
“You said you needed to talk to me, 'Becca?”
“Yes. Levi. Today's miracle.”
“The sack of rice? Yes! Praise God!”
“I didn't tell you all of it.”
“Oh?”
“I didn't just find it, Levi. I got a call, a woman called Sarah. She said she's behind on her tithe, not through her own fault, and thought God wanted her to give us food for our family for a month. She asked how much was that going to be. I told her that she should give what she felt led to give.”
“Well done. How do you get behind on your tithe and it not be your own fault?”
“An inheritance, left in trust for her. Her parents had it all set up with money going into a special account, but apparently the trustees didn't look for new recipients when people retired or left the field.”
“So she's an orphan herself?”
“I guess so. I hadn't thought of that. Anyway, she was sure the Lord had led her to us, to meet our need, but wasn't sure the if the month was or not. I explained the reason we'd left the agency was because of their begging campaign, and I wasn't going to tell her anything without asking you.”
“And now you're asking?”
“No. She said that asking for money isn't the same as responding to a direct question about how much we needed for food. I said something about us needing more food than for just our family, and that's when it happened.”
“What, you saw the rice?”
“No. She got... I guess people would call it a word from God, and told me about the rice. She also told me we had fifty three orphans, three dogs and two cats. And that as well as all that, God had told her how much to give, so please give her our bank details, because she was about to be late for Bible study.”
“That's amazing.”
“She was so... matter of fact about it, as though it was nothing special. She said as much, oh, what were her words. 'God is good, he meets us where we are, and likes to surprise us.' but that she's grown rather used to surprises like that. She then... almost rebuked me.”
“What?”
“She said we were asking for God for a miracle every time we don't tell people of our needs, and that's trust and obedience if God's told us to do that. But if he hasn't then what is it?”
“Well, he has, hasn't he? He called us to the mission.”
“And we picked up the ethos of not asking, and we're holding on to it even when they've got close to abandoning it. Does that make us faithful, or does it make us traditionalists who are putting God to the test without being called to?”
“Rebecca, don't you think we're where God called us to be?” Levi asked.
“Yes. I do. But I think that we might need to listen to our supporting church and our old mission board. I don't think we actually prayed very much about leaving.”
“It was such a blatant begging letter.”
“Was it? Read it again Levi. Read it again, bearing in mind that combined with the amount of rice in the sack, and what God's prompted her to give us, we have just enough for two months and ten days of food. Ring any bells?”
“The cooling off period?” Levi asked.
“Yes. The board and our church graciously gave us four months to reconsider. We thought we'd be down to our last crumb tomorrow. Now we will be, just when our time runs out.”
“So, the Lord is showing us that he can meet our needs.”
“Of course He can. But has he actually called us to do it this way? Why is He drawing attention to the deadline? Re-read that letter, please, now that it's not a shock.”
“All right, Rebecca, I will. What's that book you're reading?”
“George Muller's biography. I'm checking something I vaguely remember. I'll tell you if I find it.”
AN HOUR LATER.
“I've found the passage I was looking for, Levi.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. George Muller wasn't surprised by support. Ever. He was entirely confident that God would meet their needs, when he got given what must be about a million in today's money, he was equally calmly thankful as when a little boy sent in his pocket money. I'm not like that. I was totally flabbergasted when God told her about our needs, even though that's what we've been praying for for six weeks.”
“So what are you saying, Rebecca?”
“I don't know about you, but I'm having doubts that I've been called to such a life of total dependence on the miraculous that they're not surprising. I'm not saying I don't trust God, but I find I'm really really surprised when miracles happen. It makes me want to sing and dance and praise the Lord for his goodness. I don't want to lose that. But you're my husband, I'll follow your lead.”
“I've been reading that letter, like you asked.” Levi said.
“And?”
“They actually beg for prayer, don't they? They present the annual accounts, and beg people will pray for the leaders to have wisdom whether there are projects that should be cancelled, and then say if you'd like to support, there's the account.”
“But that's always been there, hasn't it?” Rebecca asked.
“I realised that. It was a shock seeing the accounts there though.”
“Of course. But the accounts have always been published. There's no new information. It's just putting it together...”
“Changes things. So I think you were wrong, or rather I was wrong, when I told you not to share needs.”
“How?”
“Because I wasn't making our accounts public, was I? I should have put something up on the network somewhere that she could find out if she really wanted to know.”
“Oh, that's true.” Rebecca said.
“And I think I'll write to the board.” Levi decided.
“Why?”
“Because.... miracles surprise me too, Rebecca.”
“I think they're supposed to, Levi.” Rebecca said, kissing her husband.
“And also, I was thinking, this building isn't ours, is it? The mission paid for it, we can't just take it over if we leave the mission. I still don't really approve of that letter, but I do agree with them, I over-reacted.”
“I'm glad they allowed us this period to think it over.”
“Me too, Becca.”
“I'm also glad that Sarah's going to call back.”
“She is?”
“She said she doesn't trust the banking system to get things right.”
“So what are you going to tell her?”
“The truth, that we're asking to rejoin the mission. I wonder what she'll say.”
----------------------------------------
WEDNESDAY EVENING
“Yet another busy day for my favourite multi-millionairess?”
“Yes. And we haven't finished yet.”
“No?”
“We saw three more missionaries who don't have enough money for next week's food, didn't we?”
“We did. You think they'll all still need food?”
“You think we just happened to look at the one need that God had in mind for us to meet?”
“I've no idea, but it's possible, don't you think?”
“Yes. OK, I'll check, you're ready to take notes?”
“Of course, love.”
The three was down to one. Sarah once more checked for names. A man, Robert. Sarah switched to the console. There was his prayer letter. Well, there weren't many prayer requests in it really. It was very much a begging letter, and she wasn't at all sure about what he was actually doing. Except that he was just about able to pay the rent and eat, but he didn't have enough money to come home.
“What do you think, John?”
“Urm. Quite a different attitude to money isn't it?”
“Yes. He's not afraid to beg. I get the feeling something's gone badly wrong. Look, I've found links to last year's letters.”
“One a month, hardly any changes for the last couple.”
“Hardly any news, either.” Sarah added.
“Here's some, I'm looking at one from six months ago: 'A breakthrough at last, he's had an opportunity to share the gospel.'”
“Well he is in a strictly moslem country.” She pointed out.
“Oh, that explains why it cost him his job. Because apparently it was at work and the manager overheard. But he's up-beat about finding another one.”
“OK, I've got the next one he's realised that he's now not going to get a job as a teacher, because his employer's passed the word round.”
“And look, a month later, still no real job, and he's been looking too long, because he can't afford the flight home any more, but he's been able to get the landlord to reduce the rent in exchange for teaching his children.” John said.
“So, he was a tent-making missionary, who's run into trouble, and is discovering that being jobless in a country where you need a good reference is a bad situation.”
“It looks like it. What happened to his supporting church?” John asked.
“Hmm. Here's his first letter: 'I know you think I'm crazy, but I'm going anyway. I know our little church can't even pay for the pastor every month, so I'm taking a teaching job out there. I should be able to save up enough to come home in just a few months.'”
“And he's a long way from home, and for some reason he didn't think it might be a good idea to have a backup plan.”
“He's just out of school.” Sarah said. “He was going to take a two year gap before university.”
“So... are you going to help?”
“Of course. I'm going to start by talking to Karen.”
“Pardon?”
“I'm fairly sure he's near where she went to school. There's a possibility the school there might want him for something.”
“You don't think he might have tried?”
“I expect it's not well advertised in the country.” Sarah pointed out, “and he had a job, so why should he look for other schools there?”
“That's true. OK, you distract her from pre-wedding panic. At least she's not catering for hers.”
“It worked out OK in the end.” Sarah said.
“Of course it did. We made a mountain of food. I'll make some tea.”
“Thanks, beloved.” Sarah said, and then called Karen.
[Hi, Sarah! Please give me an excuse not to do more revision!]
[I thought you'd be in pre-wedding panic.]
[No, just revising so we can enjoy your sledging resort.]
[Ski-hire should be available too, complete with instructor if you've never done it before. He's a friend of Dirk's Eliza. Call the costs a wedding present if you want to go.]
[Oh, wow! I'll have to check what George thinks. You're sure?]
[Of course I am. Moving on to the reason I called you. I'm doing a little bit for starving missionaries. Is here{image} near where you went to school?]
[It is. About a bus stop away. Why?]
[A gap-year missionary tent-maker is living there, and he's got himself known as a Christian proselytiser. Hence no income, and he's not sure where next week's food is coming from.]
[Where's he from?]
[A little community church in the Kingdom of Alaska which struggles to pay their pastor. I could just fly him home, but he's learned the language, started reaching out to people, and got fired for sharing the gospel with someone at his old job.]
[He's lucky he only got fired. But apart from teaching English, is there anything he can do?]
[I have no idea. I've just found him as a missionary in financial trouble, and
was wondering if there was any way of keeping him there. I presume he'd be in big big trouble if I just started giving him regular support.]
[Oh, yes. That'd really make him a target.]
[So, crazy idea number one, could the school take him on as a cleaner or something?]
[I really doubt the school pays much.]
[At the moment, his mum is supporting him from her pension, and he's spending that on his accommodation, even with the landlord dropping the rent in exchange for teaching his landlord's kids.]
[His landlord should be paying him for that!]
[Yes, but he's probably not used to bargaining, and since he's got that black mark against his name it might even be more than the landlord is willing to risk to actually be paying him something.]
[Yes. And the employment law is pretty strict, too. He'd have to register him as a personal tutor or something.]
[But you think the school might be able to employ him?]
[They might. It's certainly worth him giving it a try.]
[Can you give me an address?]
[Yes. here]
[Got it] John said.
[Oh, Hi John] Karen said [I should have guessed you'd be on the line too.]
[Karen, how sensitive is that country?]
[You mean, can you preach on a street corner and expect to live? No.]
[I'm just thinking that Sarah found him with the gift, and then found his last year plus of prayer letters. OK, I haven't seen any mention of where he is, but they've got is name on.]
[Is it distinctive?]
[Pretty much so. The letters were on his church's website, complete with a picture of him.] Sarah said.
[Then he ought to just get on the first plane he can, Sarah.] Karen said. [I don't care if he's got some kind of protective firewall which makes it harder for people where he is to read those letters. They're easy to circumvent. He's probably already being watched by their secret services, even.]
[Thanks, Karen. I hadn't thought of that. Good thought, John.]
[How are you going to get him the money for the flight home?]
[I might not. That'll get him too much attention as well.] Sarah said. [I'll look for anyone there who knows he's a missionary, and if there are then I'll ask him to think of his passport name and book him the flight myself. How long would you say it'll take him to get to the airport?]
[About an hour by bus. He shouldn't use a taxi. Keep in touch, Sarah.]
[Will do.]
[Sarah, Karen, I've just looked. There are some dots in the country who know he's a missionary.] John sent.
[Where?] Karen asked.
[Here's two clusters. Here:{memory}]
[Capital.]
[And here:{memory}]
[Secret police headquarters. Not good, but not terrible. He's not likely to get killed, but he'll probably get warned not to ever come back.]
[OK, I'll get right on it.] Sarah said.
[Don't use the national airline, Sarah. They'll note your bank account as missionary supporter if you do.]
[Thanks for the warning.]
[His apartment might even be bugged, if they've known for a while.] Karen added.
[What a cheery thought.] Sarah said.
[I don't suppose he knows another language than the local one and English?] Karen asked.
[Oooh, good call. He might. It was an ethnic church.]
[So, get a relative to call him, in the most ungrammatical local slang they can. Makes it far less likely they can work out what's being said.]
[Thanks Karen. You're good at this.]
[I've had been around Pris a lot. Bye!]
[Bye]
Sarah looked for people in the country who'd probably hear if she called. There were two. His landlord and someone in the secret police.
She looked at flight information. Five hours to the next international flight.
That ought to be enough time. The ticket wasn't even very expensive either.
“John, do you want to ruin his brother's day in the Independent Kingdom of Alaska, or shall I? Either his phone or his apartment is bugged.”
“Can you? You know the technology stuff far better than I do.”
“Of course.” She called the contact number on Robert's prayer letter.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Are you Robert Trent's brother? I've just been reading his news letters. He's in trouble.”
“Yes, I am. You think you can help?”
“Yes. I can.”
“That's mighty nice of you, maam.”
“The bad news is he's in bigger trouble than he thinks.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because just like I've been reading his letters, it looks like the secret police there have too. I know that for a fact — I know someone with the mind-reading gift.”
“You're not fooling?”
“No. There's about ten people who know he's a missionary in that country, five in his local secret police base. The gifted person also checked who might hear if I rang him direct: his landlord, obviously the walls are thin, but also someone at the same base.”
“Oh man. They've got him bugged?”
“Yes. Either him, his apartment or his wrist unit.”
“Oof, Raia! Even if you could send him the money it'd take him days to get it out of the bank there.”
“No time for messing around like that. If you can tell me his exact passport name I'll make the booking. There's a flight out of there in about five hours. It's not in exactly the right direction, but it's pretty cheap, and it gets him to somewhere that's not Moslem. After that, well, I've not looked, but it shouldn't be too hard to get him home.”
“We can't afford much, maam. I mean, we've been scrimping and saving, but...”
“Oh don't worry about the money, I've just inherited a fortune, I was just speaking about the route and stuff. I was hoping that you could tell me what name to book the ticket for, and that you can get him to take himself to the airport. Someone I know says he should use a bus, not a taxi, by the way. He's much too likely to get mugged or worse if he uses a taxi.”
“His landlord's a taxi driver.”
“Still, I wouldn't risk it. His landlord could be some kind of informer, for all we know. I think he should just pack what he really needs and run. Stuff can be replaced.”
“That's all very well, lady, but how do I know you're for real?”
“Tell you what. It's late here. Why don't I just send you the money, and you book his ticket and stuff. Can you do that, no delay?”
“Urm, yeah, sure, if we've got the money.”
“Right. Tell me account details,” Surprised, he did.
“OK, here's how it's going to work then. Wait a moment.... OK, done. I've just sent you about three times what his first ticket ought to cost, and I'll call again tomorrow. If what I've sent isn't enough, then you tell me you don't mind someone reading your mind and I'll quiz you on how much you need to get him home and replace whatever he's had to leave behind. You lie about that and you'd better hope that what I've sent is enough, because it's all you'll be getting. If you're honest, then I'll send more. If I've sent you too much already, then you give it to the church for your pastor's salary. And here's the link to the ticket I was planning to get him. Oh, when you tell him to get on that plane, use as many languages and as much local slang as you possibly can. Don't make it easy for them to translate it into something else.”
“Gotcha, lady. That'll be no problem. I've got the money, wow that came fast. I'll book him his ticket. We've been praying for weeks, you're really his saviour, and I don't know how to thank you.”
“I'm not his saviour, that's Jesus. And don't you go calling me an angel, or you'll upset my husband.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, read your Bible, man!”
“There's a lot of Bible to read. Can I have a clue?”
“It's in a gospel. Now, go buy your brother a ticket and tell him he's moving.”
“Yes, Maam. Thank you so much.”
“Tell your brother to do better contingency planning next time. Once he'd been spotted evangelising he should have made sure he had a get-out plan. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Good bye.”
Booking the ticket took him a while, but while he was doing it, he called his mother. “Miri dei, call our Bobbie, and use the lingo good and proper. The shingalo are onto him, secret police, and he's been bugged too. Some woman's just called and given me enough to get him home, we hope, but he's got to get out of there pronto, even if it's only part way. I'm booking his first ticket now, check in is in two and a half hours. And tell him to use a bus. A taxi might take him to the cops or worse.”
“Yer' sure of all this?”
“The woman's been talking to someone with the thought-hearing gift, mum. And like I said, she already sent me the money. She said she'll call again tomorrow, and she'll send more if it's not enough.”
“How's she going to know you're not lying?”
“Cause if we want more money for Bobbie, then I've got to agree to my mind being read, and if her friend catches me in a fib then we don't get diddly squat more. Now, let me book this ticket Mum, OK?”
“OK.”
And so it was that Robert, or Bobbie as his family called him, got a call from his mother. Except she called him Robert. Something serious. Some of what she said was Romani, some was other languages they'd picked up from the neighbours and the street. Some of it had real grammar, some of it his mother was getting deliberately wrong. In other places, she deliberately mixed the languages within individual words, using a root from one language and the endings from another. It was like a game they'd played when he was little, until he'd learned that it wasn't just been a game. He knew that she wasn't going to check-in for a plane anywhere in two and a half hours and she confirmed it by calling him her little cirikli — a bird. He needed to fly. Her reason for going, that she thought someone was after her, must apply to him. And the shingalo — literally meaning the horned ones, the police — were listening to him. He understood the message perfectly. He doubted very many people outside his little community would. He wondered how she knew, but that didn't stop him reacting.
----------------------------------------
“Good deeds all done for the day?” John asked Sarah.
“Almost.”
“What else is there to do?”
“I'm going to go to bed. Doesn't that sound like a good deed?”
“Hmm. Yes. May I join you?”
“I hoped you would.”