Tianna the Terrible (Anika Scott Series) (2 page)

"It's going to be fun on the plane anyway… and seeing Aunt Doreen and Tianna and stuff," Sandy whispered. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. When I didn't answer she added, "I don't remember what Uncle Kurt looks like, do you?"

"Yeah, sort of. He's kind of fat and really tall," I said.

I really didn't remember him all that well. I knew Tianna was almost the same age as me, but all that I really remembered even about her was that her room had seemed completely full of Barbie dolls and comic books.

The next morning I woke up with the sun shining in the window and the sound of ibises flying over the house. Every dawn the iridescent, goose-sized birds flew over calling,
"Ma'nga! Ma'nga!"

I stretched and smiled—and then I remembered: this might be the last time I ever slept in this bed or heard the ibises in the morning.

I propped myself on my elbow and reached for my Bible like I do every morning. It dropped open kind of in the middle, and I read, "Jehovah himself is caring for you! He is your defender. He protects you day and night… He keeps his eye upon you as you come and go and always guards you."

Wow!
I thought,
that fits!
Then I saw that somebody had stuck a bookmark in my Bible, which was why it had opened there.
Probably Mom,
I thought, but I read the whole chapter, Psalm 121, over anyway. It really made me think. God was promising to look after us… He said he is never sleeping and that he wouldn't let anything hurt us.

When I looked around, Sandy was sitting up looking at me. "You still scared?" she asked.

I just kind of grunted, and she said, "I'm not. It will be fun and—"

"OK! Everybody up!" Mom threw open our door. "Get dressed and let's get going. I want you to lay out dresses to wear to the airport."

"Mom! We can't!" I interrupted. "I hate all my dresses."

All Mom said was, "Let's not start the day by arguing. I want you downstairs in ten minutes."

The rest of that morning was like a strange dream. I wandered across the station by myself, touching things, saying good-bye. Things seemed closer and bigger than usual: the smell of frangipani, the feel of the bark on the jacaranda tree, the warmth of the strong golden sun on my shoulders, and the smell of the dry red dust. It was hard to pay attention to people at all.

"Anika!" Sandy yelled, "Anika!" She ran toward me through the Stewarts' yard. A shock went through me. What time was it?

"Boy, are you ever in trouble. The car's loaded, and everybody's looking for you," she yelled. "Come on!"

I raced after her, and Mom started scolding as soon as I hit the door. She followed me upstairs, still scolding. I yanked my dress on, but it was tight under the armpits so I jerked it down.

"Anika, you knew that dress was too small," Mom's voice drilled at me. "Don't you care how you look?"

"Hazel, Anika! Hurry up!" Daddy called.

Too small or not, the dress would have to do. I grabbed my carry-on case and ran downstairs, with Mom following right behind me. A few minutes later we were on our way.

The airport was like a blur. The loudspeakers were announcing flights in cool voices; everything smelled like cigarette smoke and jet fuel. After Daddy checked the luggage through, we boarded the plane, found our seats, and buckled in. I ended up with a window seat, sitting by Daddy. Sandy and Mom were in front of us. As we taxied, I watched the lion-colored grass that lined the runway. Then the engines screamed and the plane shuddered for a second. When the pilot took the brakes off we were pressed back into our seats, and then we were off.

Daddy's shoulder was heavy where he leaned up against me to watch the takeoff. He reached across me to point out the Aberdare mountains, then Mount Kenya, its snow shining in the bright sun. He likes to explain things all the time like he's a tour guide. Right now I just wished he would leave me alone. My throat was so tight I couldn't say anything at all. How could I ever fit in anywhere else when Kenya was so beautiful?

After a bit, Daddy stopped talking. I looked over at him. He had leaned back with his eyes closed; he looked so thin and tired. I turned back to the window and frowned.

Why did God have to let him get sick in the first place?
I thought angrily.

I couldn't see anything now except the rough white tops of clouds. The plastic frame of the window felt cold, and the plane's vibrations ran right through my skull.

In spite of it, though, I must have gone to sleep. Next thing I knew, my head bumped the edge of the window hard and bounced. I sat up and put my hand on my temple where it hurt. The seatbelt sign went on with a
'bing'.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," said a voice over the intercom. "Please fasten your seatbelts. We will be experiencing some turbulence over the Ethiopian highlands."

Still half-asleep, I found my seatbelt and latched it. Another hard bump shoved me forward against the seatbelt.

I looked at Daddy. He was putting his seatbelt on, but he didn't look scared at all.

"Don't worry," he said, smiling at me. "The pilots are very careful to stay out of weather that the plane isn't designed to handle. Now that you're awake, Anika, there's something I wanted to talk to you about." He sounded really serious. I gulped. Maybe he'd tell me that we were going to stay in Canada for sure, or maybe he'd say that he was going to die. I shoved those thoughts away and tried to listen.

Glancing at me, Daddy went on. "Mom and I don't usually talk to you kids about adult problems, but this time we felt we should."

He paused. I couldn't stand it if he decided not to tell me after all. I did my best to look grown-up and responsible, so he'd talk to me. But it's hard to look that way when you're being joggled all over by an airplane that seems to have the hiccups.

Finally, he said, "Mom's brother, Kurt, and his wife, Doreen, are having serious problems with their marriage."

I let my breath out. At least it wasn't about him or Mom.

"Your uncle Kurt made a commitment to Christ when he was a child, but from what he's told us he hasn't been living the way he should. As far as we know, Aunt Doreen doesn't know Christ. Kurt wrote us a letter asking us to come stay with them. He… he seems to be looking for help."

"You mean we're going to Calgary partly to try to help Uncle Kurt?" I asked.

"Well, I don't know how much
we
can help, but your mother and I have been praying for Kurt and Doreen. And we know that the Lord can help with any situation." Daddy said. "When the need for this trip came up at the same time as Kurt's invitation, Mom and I felt it was something God had set up. But God won't be using just Mom and me. You and Sandy are important parts of what God wants to do, too. Kurt said he wanted to see how a Christian family worked." Daddy paused for a minute, then sighed. "I'm not sure what Kurt expects to see in our family. It could make me a little nervous, if I didn't know that the Lord was in this."

Oh great!
I thought.
Now I not only have to try and fit into a place I've never been, but I'll have to do everything right so Uncle Kurt thinks Christians are good!

Daddy glanced at me. I must have been looking worried, because he reached over to touch my cheek and smile. "Don't worry, Anika. I know we're not perfect—we make mistakes and we get frustrated with each other… but God never said we had to be perfect to be used. I just wanted to let you know a little of what's going on and to ask you just to be yourself. That's the best way you can help."

I thought for a minute about what Daddy had said. What would it be like to stay with people who were having marriage problems? Did they fight a lot? Were they mean to each other? I wondered what it was like for my cousin Tianna. I couldn't even imagine having Mom and Daddy mad at each other all the time.

I swallowed and said, "I can witness to Tianna, I guess."

"Be careful, Anika," Daddy said gently. "You tend to jump into situations and act without thinking. We'll have to proceed with a great deal of tact and even more prayer. In fact, why don't you and I pray together right now?"

"Can't I just pray in my head?" I asked. I felt confused inside, and I didn't want to try to pray out loud when I didn't know what I thought. Besides, what if a stewardess came?

"If that's what you want," Daddy said. He leaned back and shut his eyes.

I tried to pray for Uncle Kurt and Aunt Doreen, and especially for Tianna—but it's hard to pray for someone when all you remember about them is that their room used to be full of Barbie dolls and comic books. Worries about Daddy being sick and about how I'd fit in when we were in Canada kept getting in the way. It was like my brain was full of noise.

Then I got this idea that made it all make sense. I've never been able to be quiet about a good idea.

"Hey, I know," I said, sitting up straight and shaking Daddy's arm. "Probably God just wants us to go to Canada to help Uncle Kurt's family. After your tests are OK, and Uncle Kurt, Aunt Doreen, and Tianna all get to be Christians, we can just come back to Kenya."

Daddy laughed and said, "I wish everything was always that simple."

It made so much sense to me. I couldn't be wrong, could I?

Chapter Two

I looked up. The seatbelt sign was off, and I'd never even noticed when we'd quit bumping around.

"Anika," Mom said, standing up, "I'd like to sit with Daddy for a while, so I'll trade you seats."

I groaned, but obeyed. When I sat down, Sandy was looking out the window, and her head blocked the view.

"Hey, neat!" she said.

I ignored her. She was probably just trying to make me jealous that she had the window seat.

She looked over at me and said, "No, really. Look," and moved back so I could see.

I still ignored her.

Mom said, "Anika," in her warning voice. I sighed and leaned over to look.

The clouds were gone, and the land looked really weird. It was all tan and pale with wrinkled little brown hills or mountains, but right across the middle was this green strip that got wide and narrow. There was a smaller silvery brown strip wandering through the middle of the green one.

"That's the Nile River, girls," Daddy said very loudly in his tour-guide voice.

I looked around nervously, sure everyone was staring at us. When I turned back to our window, Sandy had stuck her head right in the middle of it again.

"Hey! Move back," I said.

"But I can't see if I back up."

"Well, don't cover up the whole window!" I said.

She didn't budge, so I shoved her. She shoved me right back.

"That's enough! How do you expect to act properly in front of Uncle Kurt and Aunt Doreen if you can't even get along now?" Daddy said. "Apologize to each other, and work together."

Sandy and I both muttered, "Sorry." She sort of half leaned back, so I could see out OK—not great, but OK. Daddy started tour guiding again. It was embarrassing.

I tried to pretend I was a sophisticated world traveler looking out at the Nile River. It's hard to do that, though, when you and your sister are having a secret shoving fight.

"Would you like a hot washcloth?" someone said right in my ear. I jumped. A stewardess was leaning over my seat with a pair of tongs holding a white washcloth. It was steaming.

"Um, I guess so," I stammered.

She dropped it in my hands, then smiled at Sandy and held another one out to her.

When the stewardess went on to Mom and Dad, Sandy and I just looked at each other, each of us sitting there holding the hot washcloths. We both burst out giggling.

Sandy held hers up by one corner and looked at it like it was an unknown species of animal, and we both cracked up all over again.

Something bumped my arm, and I looked up. It was the woman from across the aisle. I'd noticed her before. She was sort of old, but looked rich and pretty.

"To wash with, no?" she said with a French accent, and pointed in a graceful, lazy way with her whole hand at my washcloth.

I managed to thank her.

"You have such nice family," she said with a smile. "I have much enjoy watching you."

I stammered a thank-you again. She nodded her head gracefully, then turned and picked up her own washcloth.

"She must think we're really stupid," Sandy whispered as she rubbed her hands on her washcloth.

I nodded. The woman across the aisle obviously was a sophisticated world traveler. She'd never be afraid of going to Canada.

"'To wash with, no?'" Sandy imitated in a whisper, and made a dainty swipe at her cheek, then looked past me with one eyebrow up. I followed her glance, and cracked up completely.

The lady was delicately patting one of her eyebrows with her cloth. Her eyes were elegantly shut.

I tried it, half in fun, half to practice being elegant. The washcloth felt so good on my face that I gave up elegance and buried my face in it. It was super to get rid of some of the itchy, stale feeling.

When I looked up, the woman across the aisle was watching me with a twinkle in her eye. I wasn't sure if I should feel stupid or not. I think she was going to say something, but a stewardess pushed a cart between us and said, "Would you like something to drink?"