Chapter 11

Camilla rose, fetched the candle by her bedside, and went out into the corridor. It was late, after evening prayer, but she knew she’d find Father in the chapel. Father Dominic with his kind face and strong arms. Even his name implied a closeness to the Lord.

Camilla wasn’t alone in these thoughts. Hadn’t she caught Sister Mary lingering in the garden on more than one occasion, watching Father cut back the green wildness with a machete? “On my way to feed the livestock,” Sister Mary would say, or hang the clothes, or fetch the mail, and Camilla would toss her a knowing look.

Camilla passed a partially open window and, for a moment she thought she saw, reflected in the candlelight, a flash of metal. Was someone watching her? Ridiculous what one could imagine in this hellish place. She took a deep breath, let it out, and then pulled open the chapel door.

From The Katanga Herald, Belgian Congo, June 6, 1960