you think you’ll help me find one by trying to play matchmaker with a total stranger? You don’t give up, do you? Not everyone can find a man like your William. Finding a husband isn’t a priority for me, and I don’t think our Heavenly Father would send me a mate by way of a robbery attempt.” She snorted. “Sounds like one of my father’s poorly thought-out schemes. Never mind the consequences to me, because the end of things always justified the cost, especially since he wasn’t the one paying it.”
Dr. Mary took her medical bag from the nightstand. “I guess it is a little far-fetched. God often requires sacrifice of us, but He has our best interests at heart. Pray and ask what He would have you do. Three days of bed rest should give you ample time to come to a conclusion.”
With no extra funds, missing the ship would curtail most of Anna’s options. She had to be on the SS Boma when it left in the morning. She hadn’t been this desperate since she’d escaped to the ship that carried her to Liberia, thwarting her parents’ plans to marry her off to the odious Dr. Reginald Hightower. Even without God’s call to the mission field, she couldn’t have married a man who’d made it clear that her “excess” of religion was unacceptable in his social circles.
God had provided a means for her then, so she had to believe that He would supply the means for Taba’s safety now. She respected Dr. Mary, but she would be on that ship.
As if she’d read her thoughts, Dr. Mary added, “Anna, I see that look. I’ll go to the bishop if necessary. Don’t you even think about sailing tomorrow. Missionaries who live long enough to serve past their first bout of malaria are too scarce here. He may have just arrived in Liberia, but even the bishop knows not to take chances with your health.”
Anna weighed her options. The bishop could prevent her from ever returning to the Pahn if he so chose. She’d have to get him on her side before staging a rebellion against Dr. Mary’s orders. “Fine, I’ll stay abed.”
“Three days, Anna.”
Dr. Mary knew her too well. Anna couldn’t promise that so she changed the subject. “You know, being a doctor doesn’t make you right about everything. Take matchmaking, for example. I still can’t believe you’d even suggest that being rescued by a blue-eyed, blond, Viking-like warrior type is a basis for an enduring, godly marriage.”
Dr. Mary laughed. “Blue eyes, huh? So you did notice him before he left.”
Anna’s cheeks heated to an alarming degree. A thundering rap on the bedroom door saved her from any reply.
Dr. Mary opened the door. “Just a moment, Bishop.”
Anna reached for the wrapper at the foot of her bed. Dr. Mary admitted a concerned-looking Bishop Michaels, the fringe of white hair on his head standing straight out all around like a demented halo.
Anna fanned her cheeks and forced her facial muscles into a pleasant smile. The bishop. If she couldn’t have his blessing to get on the ship tomorrow, how was she going to tell him she now needed more money just to return to an unfunded posting? This might be the proverbial last straw. She was at a loss as to how to spin it into gold.
Dr. Mary said, “Anna, I’ll send Momma Elliott right up with some nice broth. Send word if you need me again. Bishop, I’ll see you at meeting tonight.” She left the door open.
The bishop stood, hat in hand, sincerity to the forefront. “My dear Miss Baldwin. I have been ever so worried about you and not ceased to pray since I heard the terrible news. We all have. Are you all right? Have they caught your attackers?”
“No, the magistrates have no word about the two men. They left an hour ago with promises to keep looking. But I’m fine, Bishop. Only frustrated to be idle when so little time remains to me in Liberia.”
The bishop’s cheery countenance brightened further. “And yet, even in this trying situation, God has made a way. I have found the answer to all your problems, and he’s waiting in the hallway.” He stepped outside the room.
Anna’s nerves sounded an alarm. The answer to all her problems? Her father’s favorite phrase, the one that always preceded disaster in her life, now straight from the lips of Bishop Michaels. She shuddered and fought against the memories. No, this is not my father, but my spiritual authority. The bishop, a man who steeps his life in prayer and seeks God’s Will. Wait, did the bishop say “he”?
Two decidedly male voices in the hall, one the bishop’s. The sound of the other scratched at her memory. Finally the bishop walked back in, followed by a familiar-looking man, cap in hand, who ducked his blond head to step through the doorway. His crisp, white, high-collared shirt, jodhpurs and polished boots presented a striking picture. When his chin lifted as he cleared the doorway, she caught sight of his squared-off jaw and a patrician nose that didn’t quite follow its original lines. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. “Oh, it’s you! I never got the chance to thank you last night. You saved me from those men. Thank you.”
He grinned and humor sparked in his memorable blue eyes. “You were doing a pretty good job of fighting them off when I showed up. I think you’d have had them if it weren’t for the chloroform.” Her rescuer looked expectantly at the bishop standing next to him.
“Miss Anna Baldwin,” the bishop said, “let me formally introduce you to Mr. Stewart Hastings, a mining engineer with the American Mining Corporation. He and I just finished a long talk in the parlor. I believe it was God’s providence Mr. Hastings came along when he did. Had he not come to Monrovia on his current assignment...well, I shudder to think what would have happened to you last night.”
Her rescuer brushed off the compliment. “You give me too much credit, sir. Momma Elliott actually scared the miscreants off. I just held them at bay till she came on the scene.”
Was that a wink?
The bishop shook his head. “You’re too modest, sir.” He turned to address Anna. “Now that we’re all acquainted, we can get on with the plan.” The bishop rocked onto the balls of his feet, eager to impart his idea.
Anna asked. “The plan?”
“Yes, my dear. I found a way to solve all our problems. Rather, I should say God has provided.”
There was that phrase again. Tacking on that it was God’s provision still left her uneasy. And Mr. Hastings studiously looking everywhere but at her?
The bishop’s eyes twinkled. “I haven’t told Mr. Hastings, but while hearing his tale, the solution for both of you became obvious. It’s clear you two are a match made in Heaven.”
Anna almost came out of her sickbed. Was everyone in creation trying to marry her off?
* * *
Shock rendered Stewart mute. Had the kindly bishop been out in the brutal Liberian sun too long? Except it was only midmorning. By the look on Anna’s face, she harbored similar questions.
Bishop Michaels prattled on. “Mr. Hastings saved you, Miss Baldwin, and now you can save each other.”
Stewart ground his teeth to hold back a rebuttal. Was this some evangelical approach to win his soul? If so, the bishop had another think coming. God already had ample opportunity to show up in the trenches of the Great War.
Stewart found his voice. “Sir, even if I were a praying man, which I’m not, I’m not sure I would understand the course
