Free Daughter of Destiny by Louise M. Gouge Page B

with it.
    Almost as if she were a bird, Leah flew into Jonah’s arms
even before he reached the shore. This time, he did not pull back or shove her
away, but held her tightly and cried, mingling his tears with hers as together
they waded through the surf toward paradise.

Chapter Nine
     
    “Are we supposed to eat that?” Jonah leaned close to Leah
and whispered in English so Chief Fénua would not understand. “It looks like a
rotten fish head.”
    “It is a rotten fish head, my dear. Fénuans consider
it a delicacy.” Leah tried not to laugh at the disgust written across her
husband’s face. “They buried it many weeks ago so it would be ready for our
celebration, and they dug it up today. The sandy soil seasons it—cooks it
something like our cured ham.”
    Now Jonah looked as if he might be ill. “I will not eat
it.” He glanced toward the chief, and his expression turned to entreaty. “Must
I eat it?”
    Leah gave in to her laughter. “I don’t think we have to.
But you will have to eat the breadfruit and shark fins.”
    “I believe I can manage that.”
    “Lady Leah,” Suni approached the circle of celebrants with
a wriggling bundle. “Your daughter is hungry.”
    Leah reached out to receive her month-old infant. “Thank
you, Suni.” She flung a light blanket over her shoulder and prepared to nurse. Then
she glanced at Jonah, whose expression of paternal joy was tempered by his
disapproval of feeding the baby in front of the villagers. Although the child
had begun to fuss, Leah struggled to her feet. “I’ll be back soon.” She was
rewarded by a beaming smile from her husband.
    ***
     
    Jonah watched Leah leave the group, and he noticed the
perplexed expressions on the faces of those around him. Suni said something in Fénuan,
and everyone laughed. Jonah felt his face grow warm, but he smiled and
shrugged. Over these past ten months, he had found a good sense of humor an
important asset in winning the people’s friendship. Learning their language was
another essential, and he made many mistakes. To his credit, Chief Fénua had
forbidden anyone to laugh at Jonah’s errors, for the chief could see how hard
he tried.
    He gazed around the circle of people whom he had come to
love. Without Leah, he never could have come so far in such a short time. She
had suggested, or rather, had warned him not to condemn the islanders’
customs, but to speak to them only of God’s love. Because he had heeded her
advice, the chief already showed great interest in the gospel. Once he accepted
its saving message, all his subjects would know that they could too.
    A surge of love swept through him as he considered his
beautiful wife and infant daughter. He peered at the chief, who was busy
talking with another man. Surely he would not mind. . .
    He stood and walked toward the fine thatched hut that was
now their home. Behind him, he heard his name mentioned, with laughter
following. Nothing escaped the notice of these people, but unlike polite
society back home, they commented freely. . .and loudly, on actions that amused
them.
    In the dim abode, Leah sat cross-legged on their pallet bed
while the baby dined with eagerness. Leah looked up and smiled, and Jonah’s
heart felt near to bursting. Mother and child—gifts of God’s amazing grace. He
knelt beside her, released a long sigh of contentment, and brushed her unbound
hair back from her face. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight.”
    She leaned her cheek into his open palm. “Are you truly
happy, my love?”
    “Oh, so very happy, and so grateful to God for all He has given
us.”
    The baby finished her meal and gurgled her satisfaction.
    “We should return,” Leah handed the infant to Jonah, rose,
and readjusted her dress. “They cannot begin without us.”
    “I suppose not.” Jonah chuckled, but then grew sober. “My
dear, are you certain there are no hidden meanings to this ceremony? I mean, we’re
not dedicating our child to some demon, are