Blessed Child Read Free Page A

deliver the boy and I am bound by a vow to remain here.”
    He reached inside his tunic and withdrew an envelope. He handed the brown packet out to Jason, who looked unsure. “These are his papers, granting him refugee status outside of Ethiopia.”
    â€œOutside? I was under the impression that I was taking him to Addis Ababa.”
    â€œAs long as he is in this country, his life is in danger. You must deliver him to safety beyond our borders.”
    Jason was about to tell the old man that he was losing true north when a door suddenly burst open to their right. A boy ran into the room, grinning from ear to ear.
    â€œDadda!” He spoke in Amharic, but he didn’t look Ethiopian. His skin was a creamy tan and his dark hair hung in loose curls to his shoulders—he was clearly of mixed race. A simple cotton tunic similar to the priest’s covered his small frame.
    The boy ran up and threw his arms around the priest’s waist, burying his face in the man’s tunic. Father Matthew palmed the envelope, smiled, and dropped to his knees to hug the child. “Hello, Caleb.” He kissed him on his forehead and looked into the boy’s eyes—eyes as brilliant blue-green as Jason had ever seen.
    â€œCaleb, your time has come, my son.” He smoothed the boy’s hair lovingly.
    Caleb faced Jason with those large, round eyes. The priest had prepared the boy already, and Jason wondered what the boy knew.
    A tremor shook the ground and Jason instinctively glanced up. It was a shell! A shell had detonated outside!
    Father Matthew’s hand grabbed Jason’s and pressed the envelope into his palm. The old man’s eyes were misted by the flame’s light. “Promise me, my friend, I beg you! Take him beyond our borders.”
    â€œI will. I will. Get us out of here!”
    The priest’s eyes lingered for a brief moment, searching for truth. He whirled for the boy, who stared at the ceiling as another rumble shook the room. He snatched Caleb’s hand. “Follow me! Run!”
    The small shuffle steps Father Matthew had employed to lead Jason down gave way to long strides, and Jason raced to keep Father and son in sight. The priest was an enigma but certainly no idiot. His voice called back as they ran.
    â€œThey are firing on the village behind the monastery. We still have time. I have asked the others to distract them if necessary.”
    â€œDistract?”
    â€œWe have a moat behind for water. It will be burning with oil.”
    The child ran silently, on the heels of his father. They burst into the same sanctuary Jason had been scolded for entering earlier. Now another figure stood at its center, spinning around to face them as they rushed in.
    She wore a navy blue tunic not unlike you might see on any street corner throughout Ethiopia, but the woman was clearly not Ethiopian. A hood shrouded a deeply tanned face. She seemed to arrest even the old priest’s attention for a moment.
    â€œOh yes, I’d nearly forgotten about you, dear,” Father Matthew said. He turned to Jason. “This is the nurse Leiah. She came to us a few hours ago from a French Canadian Red Cross camp in Eritrea that was overrun.”
    â€œA woman,” Jason said, not because the discovery was notable, but because everyone knew women were strictly prohibited past the gates of any Ethiopian Orthodox monastery. Yet here was most definitely a woman. A Frenchwoman.
    The woman glanced at the door leading to the courtyard and then back to Jason. She approached him quickly. “Take me with you!” she said in perfect English. She turned to Father Matthew. “Father, tell him he must take me with him!”
    Her blue eyes begged. She grabbed his shirt and tugged gently toward the door. “Hurry! We have to leave.”
    A loud detonation shook the sanctuary and Jason ducked with the sound.
    â€œTake her,” the priest said. He knelt and took Caleb in his arms