ducked her head self-consciously. “Well, I don’t know about that. It’s just how I feel right now. The decision I’ve made. And I hope God honors it.”
“God, huh?”
She nodded, looked up at him. “Yes, God. Why?”
Juan stuck his hands into his pockets and scuffed the mud path. “I wish I knew what I thought about Him. I mean, I listen to the speaker in the little chapel every Sunday, but…”
“Yes, I like him. We’re fortunate he’s willing to come out here each week. And he’s definitely on target when he talks about the Bible. But what do you think? About God?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, I believe there is a God. But at this point, I can’t remember if I ever…” He felt weird having this conversation, but good at the same time. She listened in a way that made him want to keep talking. “You know. Asked him for forgiveness. Did the whole salvation thing. Sometimes I talk to Him like He’s my best friend. Other times I wonder if I’m talking to air. Do you think He holds that against me?”
“I know what you mean. And, of course He doesn’t hold that against you. I finally came to not only understand, but accept, that He loves me, regardless of the things I’ve done. In spite of my family, and just simply because He created me, He loves me. I used to wonder if He was up there in His great big Heaven, looking down on me, ready to catch me doing something wrong so He could zap me.” A dimple peeked up at him as she gave a cheeky grin. “Thank goodness that’s not the case. I’d have been zapped a long time ago.” The grin faded, her eyes turned sad. “He just wants to love me—and just wants me to believe that, which I do, even though I don’t understand unconditional love. I just know I’m grateful for it.” She gave a sad little laugh that matched the look in her eyes, and Juan felt it seep into the cracks of his hurting soul.
Amy moved, stepping over the trunk of a small tree to use it as a seat. Juan settled himself beside her and looked up to see the sun sprinkling light between the huge canopy leaves above him. The forest was alive, never still, always moving. He’d come to love it…and hate it, for it was here that he’d lost himself. And sometimes it was extremely hard to hold on to the hope that he would one day remember.
Changing the subject, he asked, “So what do you think about the place? The kids, the staff?”
She took the hint. “I love it here. I can’t believe all the good going on here in what seems to be the middle of nowhere. I have peace knowing I made the right decision in coming. I wasn’t sure at first, but when Anna called to ask for my help—” she shrugged “—I couldn’t say no.”
He gazed off into the distance and murmured, “Well, I’m sure glad you’re here. I just wish I knew how I got here, what I was doing before the fire, who I’ve left…” He glanced back down at her. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you while I was so sick.” He swallowed hard; her beauty moved him. Not just the outward, but what she was on the inside. Compassionate, caring…all the things Lucas had mentioned. “Thank-you seems kind of inadequate after all you did for me, not just medically, but emotionally, too. Your being there helped tremendously.” Juan gave a small self-deprecating laugh. “It’s hard to admit, but I really felt alone. I’ve felt that way for a long time. I mean, Lucas has been great, but…” He shrugged, unable to fully find the words to share his thoughts.
Amy reached over and placed a compassionate hand on his forearm. “Keep talking to God. He’s there and He hears you. Come join me in the morning at the end of the dock. I go there to be alone with God, but wouldn’t mind your company.” She smiled. “And in the meantime, you’re doing some great stuff around here. I hear you got Salvador playing baseball and laughing. That’s an accomplishment. You’ve obviously made a huge impact on him. He came to your bedside just about every day to watch over you. He kept asking me if you were going to die.” She glanced up at him with a shy smile. “I’m very glad you didn’t.”
He gave in to the desire to wrap an arm around her shoulders for a quick squeeze. “Thanks.”
Letting his arm drop, he changed the topic. “I wish we could do something to help Carlita. She needs a special kind of help that’s not readily available here.”
They stood, brushed themselves off and started walking along the river’s edge, through the path worn from many trips for water. Amy mused, “In the States, there’s a child psychologist on every corner. But here…”
“We could offer to fly her to America for help.”
Amy shrugged. “True, but…”
The trees rustled more so than usual, distracting her from finishing her sentence. Juan stopped. He wasn’t terribly worried, but a stray jaguar had been known to attack the unwary tourist who wandered into its territory. And sometimes two-legged beasts often roamed looking for prey. It paid to be cautious. He scanned the area, senses on alert, wary, watchful.
“What is it?” Amy whispered, catching his suddenly intense mood.
“I don’t think it’s anything, but let’s get back to the orphanage. I’m starting to get hungry.” He wasn’t about to scare her with the jaguar theory—or take a chance that it was something even more dangerous. Better just to get away now. He took her hand and turned around to head back when a memory flashed.
“Catch the ball, dude.” He passed the basketball to the guy on his right and watched the man shoot a perfect, net-only basket. He whooped and thumped the guy on the back. “Now, that’s what I call shooting!”
Another flash.
The jungle, betrayal, fire. “Get out now!” The words ripped through his headphone. He looked back at the frightened eyes of the small child. “Come on, little one, we’ve got to go.” He gripped the small hand tight and pulled. The explosion rocked him, he lost his grip. “No!”
Another flash.
“Gabe, look out!” He pulled the trigger. The man stopped in shock, looked at the stain spreading across his chest, then staggered, fell forward and was still. Hard to breathe. Singed flesh stung his nose. Then…nothing.
Juan stumbled on with each clip of memory. He’d make sure Amy was safe, then examine what he’d just remembered. Excitement rippled through him. He was remembering. Oh, God, please let me remember.
Amy let Juan lead her back down the path; he hurried and she stumbled along behind him. The river rushed beside them. Juan kept looking over his shoulder.
“You think someone’s there?” she gasped between steps. “Why would someone be watching us?”
Juan glanced back again, “I’m not sure anyone is. But those darts didn’t come from nowhere, so I’m just going to be a little paranoid until we can figure that out.”
Amy, seeing his point, kept up the pace. Juan turned back one more time to look at her and before Amy could warn him, he ran into a low-hanging branch. It snagged his shirt and held on. Juan grunted, jerked away. The shirt ripped leaving a gaping hole and Amy gasped; her hands flying up to cover her mouth.
“I’m all right,” he reassured her. “It didn’t get much of me, just ruined a perfectly good shirt.”
Amy stared at the gap left by the torn garment. She couldn’t take her eyes from the exposed skin.
Juan
