time of night, and yet she felt perfectly safe with Nathan at her side.
When they came to the center of the clearing, he planted the torch in the soft earth. He came to stand behind Daria and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head on his shoulder. He cupped her chin in one strong, rough hand and tilted it toward the heavens.
The sight above her left her breathless. “Oh, Nate! It’s so beautiful.”
In the village, their view of the sky was filtered through a mesh-work of vines and palm leaves, but here the vista was unobstructed. The sky above them was a flawless canopy of navy-colored velvet sewn with a million glittering sequins. Daria felt as though she floated in a realm that was both sea and sky, fathomless and eternal. But she wasn’t frightened because Nathan was her anchor. They stood together in silent awe, matching the rhythm of their breaths each to the other. Nate had been studying the constellations of the Southern Hemisphere, and he began to point them out to her. His voice was soft in her ear, the bristle of his day-old beard sweetly familiar against her cheek.
“Look there, Dar,” he whispered hoarsely, pointing, his arm brushing her cheek as he sighted a star pattern for her. “That’s Virgo.” He tipped her chin slightly to the left. “And see that star right there… the brightest one? That’s Spica.”
She nodded, standing on tiptoe to nuzzle her cheek against his. The star seemed to wink at her, as though it were in on Nate’s little surprise.
“When you look at the sky every night I’m gone, find that star,” he told her. “I’ll be looking at it and thinking how much I love you.”
Her throat was too full to reply. She wanted only to stand there forever, safe in his arms.
Morning came too quickly, and Nathan Camfield rolled out of bed with far more trepidation about the journey ahead than he had allowed his wife to see. He was hesitant to leave her here alone. He had asked Anazu and his wife, Paita, the only Christian converts in the village, to keep an eye on Daria. He knew they would take the charge seriously. The Timoné were a peaceable people, and he and Daria had always felt safe within the village. But still he worried.
He worried for himself as well. He wasn’t sure what he would find when he arrived in the village to which he’d been called. Chicoro, the runner who’d come for him had called it. He only hoped the man had been right in judging the distance. For Daria’s sake, Nate desperately wanted to return as quickly as possible. She seemed so fearful.
Daria was already outside making coffee over the fire when Nate came down the steps of their hut.
“Good morning,” she said, as if it were any other day.
“Mornin’, babe.”
“I fixed some fruit.” She held up a bowl of sliced bananas, guava fruit, pitaya, and a variety of the succulent berries that grew wild all over the rain forest.
He started to tell her he’d just have coffee, but then saw the pleading look in her eye. “Sure,” he said, trying to force a cheerfulness he didn’t feel into his voice.
They sat companionably on the stoop as they did every morning, swinging their legs over the side, sipping hot coffee from their treasured University of Kansas mugs. Nate ate Daria’s fruit salad with his fingers, touched by her offering.
He turned to say something to her and saw that there were tears streaming down her face.
“Hey, hey,” he whispered. “It’s only a few days.”
She tried to smile but failed miserably, her face crumpling as she wept.
He jumped down off the stoop and stood in front of her. Taking her chin in his hands, he planted kisses on her tear-stained cheeks, memorizing the feel of her lips on his.
Then he wrapped his arms protectively around her. “Father,” he prayed, “Please be with this woman I love. Keep her safe while I’m gone and help the time to pass quickly for both of us. Father, give me wisdom to know how to help the people you’ve sent me to minister to—both in body and in spirit.”
Through tears, but with a voice that seemed stronger, Daria prayed for him too, in her simple, straightforward way. “God, go with Nate. Keep him safe. Guide him in everything he does. And, Lord, please bring him back to me because—well, I’ve grown kind of fond of him and I think I’d