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John and Sandy entered the hut as Numah and Tucker fearfully withdrew. Marta, having fought long and hard on behalf of the boy’s welfare, fell into the waiting arms of Sandy, and let herself sob with frustration. “We’ve got to do something, Sandy. He won’t even listen.” “We’ll do something. Don’t worry,” Sandy replied. John kicked at the dust and pretended to look at something on the ground. “I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to lose control in front of you. I’m just frustrated,” said Marta. Marta saw the witch doctor snicker, then continue with a professional but I-know-what-I’m-doing, and-you’re-too-simple-to-¬recognize-greatness attitude. “Don’t worry, Marta, I understand what you have been through. I’ve been through less frustrating situations, but didn’t handle them nearly as well as you are this one. At least the doctor is still standing.” Sandy laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t ruled out violence.” Marta allowed a chuckled. Marta saw recognition in Mewpa’s eyes. He often refe...

Marta reflected on her visits with John – how she had enjoyed them, and how matchmakers popped up out of the woodwork. She had waved them off, not taking their comments seriously. She and John had insisted there was nothing to become excited over. John was her pilot, a link to the outside world. He brought her mail, supplies, and good conversation. But she had to admit, she looked forward to those visits. She refused to admit that these feelings were out of romantic notions, even if those like Tucker noticed differently. “Do you think John likes to visit here to my mother?” the twelve¬ year-old asked. “Maybe we can ask him later.” Even he has his suspicions about us, she thought, feeling ambushed by the question. They walked down to the dock for the boat ride to the leper colony. Within twenty minutes, a boat chugged up river. Smoke belched skyward in dirty cotton puffs as the diesel engine reversed, then revved to dock the boat. Marta smiled a welcome as Eric Schneider tied his craft ...