families know what’s going on?”
She hesitated. “No, not yet,” she finally told him, shouting into the receiver. “Unless you think we should.” Their parents had all been against their going. She couldn’t bear to think of them worrying and wondering from afar when there was nothing they could do.
She waited for his reply, knowing that if he believed it was time to inform their families, he was more worried than he let on. But when he agreed with Daria that it would be premature to alert their families in the States just yet, she sighed in relief. “It’s possible that everything is fine and that the trip is just taking longer than Nate anticipated,” he told her. “But I do think it’s time to start looking for him.”
She knew his unspoken fear: Paramilitary units were thick in the coca growing regions on the Rio Guaviare. They were notorious for killing suspicious parties and asking questions later.
“We’ll keep in close touch, Daria. We’re all praying for you. I’m sure Nate is fine,” Bob reassured her unconvincingly before signing off.
Knowing that it would be days before anyone could get to the village from Bogotá, Daria sought out Anazu in the village.
She found him crouching near the river’s edge, cleaning a mess of fish. Kneeling beside him, she spoke in her halting Timoné. “Anazu, kopaku…please. It is time to search for Dr. Nate,” she begged, trying desperately to strike the right balance of authority and deference in her voice. “Would you send Motsu and Javier to bring him back? Kopaku? Your nephews know the way on the river,” she coaxed.
He looked up from his task, his dark eyes thoughtful and kind. “Dr. Nate is with men who know the jungle well. They will bring him home when the time is ripe.”
His calm manner and kindness reassured her somewhat. “Yes,” she told herself. “Quimico and Tados will bring him home.” Yet her heart doubted. Even the families of the young men had begun to complain that Dr. Nate had not yet returned their sons and brothers to them as he’d promised.
She decided not to push Anazu on the matter and instead thanked him for considering her request. He nodded and flashed her a familiar smile, his white, even teeth almost glowing against the contrast of burnished copper skin. Deeply disheartened, she returned to the hut.
When the sun came up on the following day, Daria rose and went to stand at the small window over their bed.
“Please, Lord,” she prayed. “Soften Anazu’s heart. I need his help. Help me to know what to say to him, Father. Give me the words that will convince him that it’s time to look for Nate. Give me strength.”
She was just getting ready to walk to the commons for morning lessons when Bob Warrington’s voice crackled over the radio. Her heart pounding, she jumped up and ran to the crude table where the radio sat.
“Daria?” Bob’s voice broke up in an eruption of static, and Daria strained to hear his message. “I’ve spoken with Gospel Outreach, and they think it’s time to send in a search party. They want you to try to get to San José del Guaviare. They’ll fly over the area from there, but they want you with them if at all possible.”
“I really don’t know how much help I’d be, Bob,” she said, her voice trembling. It terrified her to think of leaving Timoné without Nate. “I… I know the village, Chicoro, is on the river,” she told Bob, “but even Nate wasn’t sure how far upstream it was.” Though she knew Nate had given Bob the information before he’d set out, she repeated all she could remember of what the runner from Chicoro had told them when he came for Nate.
“I still think you need to be in that plane,” Bob insisted. “Is there someone there you trust to get you to San José?”
She told him of Anazu’s refusal to go after Nate. “He might be more willing to take me to San José, familiar territory, but”—her voice rose an octave and grew thick with panic—“what if Nate comes back while I’m gone, Bob?”
“Leave a message for him, Daria. If that happens, he can radio me, and we’ll get you back to Timoné.” He spoke with measured words, as though he were speaking to a child. She willed confidence into her tone as they arranged for her to meet a contact at the airstrip in San José del Guaviare, two days down the river.