Читать книгу One Face in a Million Book 1: Mu Shangaaniana - William Bond - Страница 10

Chapter 4

Christine knew when the train was to leave for Swaziland, and she arrived at the depot well before its departure time. After the taxi driver had been paid, she purchased a ticket and then took her luggage along the platform until she found an unoccupied bench. On the wall of the depot was a large clock, and she was soon surprised to realize that the train to Swaziland was not yet there. Soon, others in the area seemed to be noting that the train was not on time. What could be the reason for the delay? A departure that was a few minutes delayed was nothing to worry about, but when forty-five minutes had passed, Christine began to grow concerned! A prolonged delay in LM could mean that she would miss the bus at the border that she should be taking to Mbabane. She didn’t want to miss her connections at the border for she’d had enough of missed connections on the previous day! She knew that this had already been a trip that she would never forget.

About fifteen minutes passed before a train finally pulled into the station. Someone asked a conductor if this was the train to the Swazi border, and the railroad employee nodded affirmatively. No one asked why the train was late, and chances were good that the reason for the delay would never be known.

Those intending to board the train soon did so, and within a few minutes, the train pulled out of the station and began making its way out of LM. Within a few minutes, they had left the metropolitan area, and Christine was one of many who sat quietly in a seat and passively gazed at the rural scenery of Mozambique as it appeared on this particular sunny afternoon.

Christine had to acknowledge that she had been very upset with Sara Rankin, but they had managed to part as friends and now, she would have been happy for Sara’s company.

The trip to and from school was long and lonely, and she was glad that there would come a day when making these trips would finally come to an end. She could only hope that the rest of her trip to Mbabane would go without incident.

In time, they came to the border area where Christine and several other people disembarked from the train. As usual, they had to carry their luggage through customs, but for Christine, that procedure went without any complications. They then walked a short distance to a location where bus connections could be made to various locations in Swaziland. After arriving there, most of the people soon departed on a bus that was bound for several villages that Christine had never visited. Soon, Christine was very upset to discover that, because of the train delay, she had missed the last bus of the day to Mbabane!

The employee who sold bus tickets could see that the young lady before him was so upset that she was on the verge of tears. There was nothing that he could do about her situation, but he ventured to suggest that there was a nearby station where people often stopped to buy gas. At that location, there was the possibility that she might be able to get a ride with someone who was heading up to Mbabane.

Christine summoned a weak smile and thanked the young man for his suggestion. She then picked up her luggage and trudged toward the service station that was not far away.

Some dogs in the vicinity had noticed her walking through their domain, but their barking conveyed no friendliness. When she arrived at the service station, she set her luggage down and spoke to a young black man who apparently worked there.

He smiled and greeted her in Zulu.

Christine did not speak Zulu, so used hand gestures and English to convey that she had missed the bus and needed to get to Mbabane. She inquired if he could ask any customers headed there if they would be willing to take her to that destination. He seemed to get the idea, and when the next car came for gas, he apparently asked if they were headed for Mbabane, and if so, could they make room for a passenger? Judging from his shrug, his inquiries had not met with success. After the car departed, he spoke to Christine.

“Maybe next car,” he said, with a smile. “There will be more customers. Too soon to worry.”

The sun was lower in the sky, and the nearby trees were casting longer shadows. In this region, the sun would soon dip behind the nearby mountains, and darkness would come quickly. At that time, the temperature would start to become noticeably cooler. Christine had not wanted to fret, but she was beginning to have real anxiety. Would someone come along and give her a ride? And if so, how long might she have to wait for that ride? Would it be risky to ride off into the darkness with strangers? But what if no one came along to offer her a ride? What would Mother advise?

Christine could not see any place to stay in the vicinity, but she asked, “Is there a hotel near here?”

The attendant saw that the young lady would probably not think much of the local accommodations.

“There is one not far from here,” he replied, “but it be no fancy place.”

Christine didn’t respond with a comment. She hadn’t seen the hotel, but she could well imagine that it might be rather shabby. The rooms were probably poorly furnished and there were apt to be no private bathrooms. Perhaps the place might even be overrun with insects. She could just imagine.

Would it better to ride to Mbabane with a total stranger? Such a trip could be risky. A night in a local hotel did not seem appealing, and sitting all night by the gas pump was virtually unthinkable. Christine didn’t like any of her options. She wondered what Sara would have suggested they do. Again, she found herself wondering, What would Mother advise?

She looked down the road for approaching cars or trucks, but the roads seemed to be empty. The sun was sinking lower in the western sky, and she was nervous. Would help come or not? She just didn’t know.

The young attendant felt sorry for the attractive gal who had missed the bus to Mbabane. He doubted that he could solve her problem, but in sympathy, he had taken a bottle of orange soda out of the cooler, opened it, and walked over to present it to the lonely young gal who stood next to her well-used suitcase.

“I give you something to drink while you wait,” he said.

Christine was thirsty, and she accepted the bottled drink with appreciation. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I just don’t know what to do,” she continued. “I have never faced a situation quite like this.”

“Do not worry,” said the attendant. “Something will work out. You will see.”

The sun had dropped behind the mountains, and dusk would arrive before long. If it grew dark, what would she do? If she could not get a ride, she would have to consider staying at the local hotel—assuming that some accommodations were even available. Perhaps going to the local hotel was her only option. If a ride became available within an hour or so, she presumed that she might take it. Otherwise, she would head for the local hotel and see if she could get a room.

About twenty minutes passed before a medium-size truck pulled up to the pump. The attendant spoke briefly with the driver and then began putting fuel in the tank of his truck.

Later, the attendant opened the hood, checked the oil, and added the necessary amount that was needed. The attendant then went to tell the driver how much he owed. They also engaged in a brief conversation. He received some money, and a few moments later, the attendant stepped over to speak to Christine.

“Your transportation has arrived.” He smiled. “This driver is going to Mbabane, and he will give you a ride—if you wish.”

Christine now had to make a fast decision. Should she accept a ride that might be risky, should she try to get a room at some unseen hotel, or should she sit by the road all night and wait around for a bus that would be going to Mbabane on the following day? What should she do? What should she do?

Christine glanced at the driver and saw that he was a black man who was, perhaps, thirty years old. He acknowledged her with a smile, and she returned a smile. He seemed benign, but looks could be deceiving. She had to make an immediate decision, for she knew that she shouldn’t keep the man waiting. Finally, she nodded to let them know that she would accept a ride to Mbabane.

The service station attendant opened the passenger door for Christine, and she climbed into the cab. He then took her luggage and placed it in a secure place in the bed of the truck. He then went around and spoke briefly with the driver in Zulu. Christine did not understand their conversation, but she saw that the attendant had given the driver some money which he had accepted with great reluctance. The driver then started the engine, and Christine smiled at the attendant and thanked him for his assistance. As they were pulling away from the station, Christine and the driver exchanged smiles and a wave of farewell with the attendant. For better or worse, Christine had made a decision, and her options had ended. She was now heading up to Mbabane with a complete stranger.

When she glanced at the driver’s face, he smiled at her, and she had summoned a weak smile for him. Was his just a friendly smile, or was he already thinking of possible opportunities that might arise as they drove along the dark and mountainous highway? It seemed best not to think about that.

She had noticed his hands on the steering wheel and seen how large they were. She couldn’t recall ever seeing such large hands. When she had glanced at his face, she had noticed that he was clean-shaven except for a slight mustache. He had fine features, and as a matter of fact, she found him to be an attractive man. For some reason, they hadn’t exchanged many words, but as she looked out upon the darkening landscape, she had suddenly realized that she could be attracted to a man of color. Her head told her that she wanted no situations to develop on this journey, but at the same time, she had entertained some unthinkable thoughts. What would it feel like to be lovingly held in the arms of a virile black man? He seemed masculine and strong, and she tended to suspect that the man who sat beside her could be quite a lover.

She knew perfectly well that she did not want a romantic encounter with the driver who sat beside her, and she was amazed to think that she could be attracted to him. It had never occurred to her that she could feel any attraction to a person of a different race, but amazingly she did! For the moment, all thoughts of danger had dissipated. Was it possible that she had been disarmed by his smile? She hadn’t wanted to stare at him, but she had observed that he had a kind face that was actually handsome. He had black hair, of course, but it was very short. She had liked his brown eyes, and she suspected that his eyelashes were longer than the hair on his head. The color of his skin was almost the color of milk chocolate, and she was fascinated by the size of his hands. Was he married? She didn’t know, and she doubted that she would ask. He was actually a very handsome guy, and Christine had to assume that a man of his age must have had many romantic experiences—possibly hundreds of them—and she was mindful that she had had no romantic experiences at all! But she had indulged herself in many fantasies, and her mind drifted again in that direction. She purposely tried to direct her thinking to something else.

She was growing tired of this long trip back to school. A sign along the road indicated that it was still quite some distance to Mbabane. This seemed to be a trip that had no end.

She had begun her trip in a car. After that, she had traveled on three trains, a bus, and a car ferry as well as two taxis and a truck. She had missed connections along the way, yet she was still heading toward her destination. Despite difficulties and concerns about the ones who had followed or stalked her in LM, she had to acknowledge that a man in Xinivani had taken her out to dinner and paid her to accompany his son to Manhica. The brakeman on the train had provided her with a safe place to travel on the freight train, and the man back at the gas station had been amazing. She didn’t know if he was a Christian, but he had given her a drink, helped her to find a ride to Mbabane, and he seemed to have given the truck driver some money so that he would take her to Mbabane. Surely, that man was the very image of a Good Samaritan.

Now, she was in the company of a man who was quite possibly another Good Samaritan. As he shifted into a lower gear to accommodate the steeper grade that was ahead of them, she saw that the man at her side was an experienced driver. She had not had long conversations with the driver, but she had liked his deep voice. She could no longer see his hands, but there was something about his hands that she had admired. She had never laid eyes on any naked man, but she had certainly fantasized about them. What harm could come of that? She had known that you couldn’t always tell a lot by one’s appearance. Nice-looking people weren’t always so nice, and others weren’t always as bad as they seemed. She didn’t even know the name of the man who sat nearby, but he seemed to exude a kind of sexual magnetism. His quiet strength was appealing, and she was at a point in her life when she was having strong feelings for the opposite sex. She certainly had that attraction to Jim, and she was surprised that she had similar feelings for a stranger who was close by. How was it possible to be attracted to a stranger—and even one of another color? In this moment, those things didn’t seem to matter at all.

Although Christine watched the highway that curved and rose continuously ahead of them, her mind occasionally slipped back into fantasizing, and her thoughts were not the kind that she could ever have shared with her mother. In fact, she could never have acknowledged to anyone that she had certain thoughts and desires. Where did such thoughts come from?

Why in the world did she feel such an attraction for this man? Was it because he was being helpful? Was it because he didn’t seem threatening in the least, or was it simply his masculinity that appealed to her? She had also wondered if he had been thinking about her.

She would not be giving into temptation, but she had wondered what it would be like to draw nearer and actually lean against him. He had both hands on the steering wheel, but she wondered how it would feel to have his strong arm around her. She knew that she would have been tempted to put her hand on his leg. And would he have enjoyed that? Would he like to become aroused? That could lead to things that they both might enjoy. Could she abandon her values and allow herself to be coaxed into something romantic? She didn’t think so, and yet, in her mind she could imagine what it might be like if they were to share a hotel room. They would soon be undressed, and before she knew it, they would be making passionate love. It seemed that they both had passionate feelings that needed to be satisfied—even more than once! She would have her way with him, and they would seek to please each other. My! Where did these thoughts come from? Christine wondered. Thankfully, it was dark, and the driver could not see that she felt flushed.

With skill, he downshifted to begin another long, seemingly endless incline. A signpost indicated that Mbabane was now only twenty miles away. Her long trip was nearing an end, and she dared not let her mind begin another fantasy. The driver had been a real gentleman, and she needed him to think that she was not one with loose morals. It must have been near midnight when they finally entered the outskirts of Mbabane.

Christine then had to give the driver a few directions to St. Mark’s, and within a few minutes, the truck stopped near the dorm where Christine was staying. Like a gentleman, the driver opened the door for her and assisted her out of the cab. He then got her luggage from the back of the truck and carried it for her until they reached the entrance to the dorm.

“Thank you so much for everything,” she said, with real sincerity. “I surely appreciate it.” “You’re entirely welcome,” he replied. “Take care.”

The light by the door illuminated the area enough so that she had seen the driver’s smile before he returned to his truck. She would have liked to have given him a warm hug, if not a kiss, but considering all things, that would not have been appropriate. She had worried about riding up to Mbabane with a stranger, but once again, things had gone well. Despite everything, she had to thank the Lord for a safe trip.

She tried the door, but immediately discovered that it was locked. She rang the doorbell and waited. Then, she rang it again. She was beginning to wonder what she would do if no one answered the door, but as she looked through a window, she could see her housemother, Mrs. Gibbons, fastening her robe as she was coming along the corridor. A moment later, the door was unlocked and opened.

“Oh, it’s you, Christine,” she said with a big smile. “It’s so late, dear. Did you miss your bus?”

Christine acknowledged that the train from Lourenço Marques had run late, and because of that delay, she had missed the bus to Mbabane.

“Mightn’t you be hungry, dear? Could I get you something to eat?” she asked with motherly concern.

Christine was a bit hungry, but more than that, she was tired. “I think I’m anxious for bed,” she replied. “I’m really quite tired.”

“Well, of course, you are,” Mrs. Gibbons said sympathetically. “I understand. Anyway, I’ve got clean towels and clean sheets for your bed. I’ll bring them up directly and help you to make your bed. You just take your things up to your room, and I shall be there directly.”

Christine soon arrived at her room. The door was not locked, and when she had switched on the light, she saw that neither bed was yet occupied. She set her luggage down, and moments later, Mrs. Gibbons came in and immediately began to make up her bed.

Christine assisted, and she put a pillowcase over her pillow. “Are most of the girls back?” asked Christine.

“Oh, there’s a few yet to come,” she replied. “They should be here by tomorrow…well, later today, actually. I see that it’s now past midnight. Didn’t Sara come with you?” she asked.

“Sara won’t be coming back,” Christine replied. “Her parents have been transferred to a mission station up in Southern Rhodesia, and Sara will be going to school up in Salisbury.”

“Truly?” said the housemother. “Well, I declare. I expect we shall miss Sara, won’t we, dear?”

For an easy response, Christine simply replied, “Yes, we will.”

Mrs. Gibbons indicated where she had placed the towels and washcloths, and then, she continued.

“Well, if there’s nothing else I can do for you”—she smiled—“I’ll see you in the morning. It’s nice to have you back, Christine. Sleep well.”

Christine thanked Mrs. Gibbons for her help and then wished her a good night. A few moments later, she opened her suitcase and got out a few things. Taking care of her clothes could now wait until morning. She finally made a necessary trip to the bathroom, and after she had returned to her room and closed the door, she put on her nightgown, turned off the light, and got into bed.

It had surely been a long trip, but she had made it safely back to school. She was reviewing various parts of her trip, and she had thought again about the tall man with a turban who had stalked her in LM. That had been frightening, and she would never forget him!

Neither would she forget traveling in the caboose with young Antonio. She also remembered the kind Zulu man at the gas station near the border who had given her a drink and paid a driver to take her up to Mbabane. He truly had been a Good Samaritan.

As she was starting to fall asleep, she was thinking again about the other Good Samaritan who had driven her from the border to her dorm at St. Mark’s. She hadn’t even learned his name, but she was rather surprised that she had felt such a strong attraction for him. If he’d become amorous, would she have tried very hard to resist him? Who could say?

It had not seemed likely that she would ever see that man again, but it wasn’t long before she was pleasantly surprised to discover that he had shown up in her room…with his shirt off! It was clear that he had a remarkable physique and unmistakable intentions!

Christine found that her visitor was both strong and gentle, and although she later realized that it had been a dream, it had been one that was utterly unforgettable.

Even though that dream had been amazing, the winsome black truck driver made no more appearances in any of Christine’s dreams or fantasies. Not surprisingly, however, Jim Pearson did appear in her fantasies and dreams, but such things, of course, were never discussed with anyone.

The school year proceeded in the usual way, and it wasn’t long before Christine was tired of attending classes and doing so much homework. She found her history class to be interesting, but she disliked the long reading assignments and hated the fact that there was so much to memorize for tests. Afrikaans was a required class that seemed perfectly useless because she knew it was a language that she would never use. English, art, and physical education were good classes, and biology was all right—most of the time. The worst class, without doubt, was mathematics.

Her math class seemed both difficult and boring. It made little sense to her, and she could not see how many of the concepts would ever be useful in her life. The only good thing about that class was the fact that she sat behind Jim Pearson, and she could fantasize about him when she was bored. She had not been doing well in the class, and a possible reason was that she spent more time thinking about Jim than she spent thinking about math! She knew that she ought to pay better attention in class and spend more time on her math homework.

Mr. Edwards had noticed that she had not been doing well in his class, and he had suggested that she might benefit from some tutoring if she thought it would help. Christine had not told her mother about her poor grades, nor had she mentioned that her teacher had offered to tutor her. She was still hopeful that she could bring her grades up—on her own. She knew that it was essential to do well on all of her mathematics exams. If she did not, pursuing higher education might not be possible. She studied for all of her classes, but she had come to realize that she needed to put much more effort into Mr. Edwards’s class. Clearly, she did not want to fail the class and add the stigma of failure to her reputation. The label that some of the girls had given her had damaged her reputation enough.

Happily, Christine discovered that her relationship with the girls in the dorm had greatly improved since last term. There had been no problem with name-calling, thus far, and Christine no longer felt that she was being shunned. She didn’t know if the situation had improved because Sara was no longer around to instigate things, or if the girls were simply becoming more mature and no longer had the need to act as they had in the past. She was extremely glad that things were going better, and she just hoped that the name-calling and shunning were over for good.

Christine’s memories of being ridiculed and shunned had hurt deeply and affected her self-esteem. Before coming to boarding schools, the matter of her racial background had never been of any concern to her. She knew that she had Indian ancestry, but she had the complexion of her English ancestors and had not felt that her Indian ancestry set her apart from others. She had always felt that she was white, and it really bothered her when Sara and others had said that she was trying to “pass for white.” Their taunts had caused her to wonder if she would ever be acceptable at school—or anywhere else. She had hoped that the matter of her racial background would not be a stigma for her after she left school. If she went to America, she hoped that no one would ever know that she had Indian ancestry. She was determined to keep that bit of information a closely guarded secret.

She was glad that she had her mother’s fair skin. If anything betrayed her Indian ancestry, it was her eyes. She had always thought that she was an ordinary brunette with dark hair and dark eyes. But she had come to realize that her eyes were somewhat unusual.

Although they were large and almond shaped, she knew that it was something else that made them different. In some of her photographs she had seen that the focus of her eyes did seem to converge, at times. She suspected that, in certain circumstances, her eyes must have crossed slightly as she changed her focus from one place to another. Whatever her idiosyncrasy, it had been such that Sara and others had sometimes called her cross-eyed. She knew that she could see very well and was not really cross-eyed, so she hated it whenever she heard others say that she was. She knew that she could not change her eyes any more than she could change her ancestry. She simply wanted people to accept her for who she was, and she was just relieved that she had not heard unkind remarks directed at her since they had returned to school following their long summer break. This had given her cause to hope that her last year at St. Mark’s might not be as bad as she had feared.

Even though she didn’t enjoy all of her classes, she was beginning to feel more socially acceptable. Although she had not really liked Helen Von der Merwe in earlier years, she had become a good roommate, and despite their homework, they seemed to find time to visit with other girls in their dorm.

Occasionally, they strolled around campus or walked into town together, but their favorite activity was to socialize with other girls in someone’s room. Their conversation often included complaints about certain classes, various instructors, or the dorm’s food. The favorite topic, however, usually centered on boys. There were several boys in school that were considered really cute, but the three who had become their favorites were Mike Jensen, Tim Forrester, and Jim Pearson. The girls admired these three because they were good students and good athletes, but they also liked them because they thought the boys were good-looking and sexy. The girls had almost no dating experience, but they were very interested in the opposite sex, and they enjoyed imagining what it would be like to date any of these boys. They sometimes giggled and teased one another—speculating on the things that might happen if one of the girls ever got lucky enough to go out on a date.

The girls had picked up various rumors and tidbits of information about boys. Because they were all inexperienced, they tended to regard rumors as the truth. They thought they knew quite a lot about boys, but when it came to certain parts of the male anatomy, they could only speculate. Christine listened with interest to what the others said, and she came to realize that her thoughts and feelings about boys were much like that of the other girls who lived in the dorm. It seemed that any of them would have been happy to go out with Mike, Tim, or Jim. They had wondered what it would be like to kiss any one of them, and often, their speculations were not limited to kissing! Generally, Jim Pearson was considered to be the best catch. Christine had agreed that he was gorgeous, but she had not dared to tell anyone how much she really admired him, for she didn’t want to be subjected to possible teasing.

At times, they had speculated on what they should do if someone became too amorous on a date. No one seemed to have an easy answer, but they all wanted to avoid the shame that Mary Ellen Bascom had suffered when she became pregnant and had to leave school. What had happened to Mary Ellen had been no laughing matter.

Christine was now in math and history with Jim Pearson, but they had not yet developed a relationship. Of course, he had smiled at her, from time to time, but Christine had seen him smile at many other girls. She didn’t believe that he was going with anyone else, at the time, so that meant that perhaps she still had a chance of developing a relationship with him.

Although that had not yet occurred, Jim had frequently been in her dreams, and he was often in her daydreams when she was entertaining fantasies.

Christine had continued to think that Jim was the most attractive young man that she had ever seen. She loved his easy smile and his dark, smoldering eyes. She found his physique appealing, and she loved to look at him whenever she thought no one would notice. She respected him for being a good student and athlete, and she also liked the fact that he seemed modest, confident, and kind.

Over all, she felt that Jim Pearson was the sort of person that she could love for a lifetime. She did not know what he thought about her, but somehow, she was going to have to find out. Many of the girls thought he was great, but none of them had taken any action to become better acquainted with him. She knew that she didn’t want to be too forward, but she needed to do something—and do it before much more time had passed. She frequently found herself wondering what she could do that might bring them together so that a relationship could develop.

When Helen was not in their room, Christine often spent some time looking in the mirror. She was interested in her appearance, and she wanted to be as attractive as possible. Some of the girls had said that she was good-looking—which was quite different from what they had said in earlier years. When she wore her school blazer or dressed up for church, she did think she looked quite nice. She thought that she looked more mature than many of the other girls in the dorm, but she was, after all, now eighteen years old and in her last year at St. Mark’s.

When she looked in the mirror, she could see that her body was becoming more mature. Some of the girls in the dorm had bigger breasts, but this was not something that bothered her. She thought that hers were well shaped, and she was satisfied with her general dimensions. She could see that exercise in her physical education class and her participation on the girls’ volleyball team had helped her to lose some weight and tone certain muscles.

Her legs had become shapelier, and her waist seemed about right. She had always enjoyed food, and although she had never been overweight, she could easily remember when she had not been as fit. Now that she had a slim waist, she wanted to keep it that way.

She considered her shoulder-length hair to be an asset. It was dark, had body, and was manageable. She liked arranging it in various ways, but she only did so when she was alone. She hadn’t wanted to invite comments from the other girls, so she had not chosen to wear her hair in an unusual way outside of her room.

The same was true of her makeup. She had acquired a bit of makeup, and she enjoyed putting it on, from time to time, but she had always taken it off before it would be noticed by others. She had mixed feelings about makeup, for although she thought it could enhance her appearance, she knew that her mother did not approve of wearing makeup or jewelry. Mother had not wanted her to forsake the standards with which she had been raised. Mother had always encouraged her to act like a lady and not involve herself in things that might make her seem cheap or worldly. Christine realized that she was still coming to terms with certain differences that she had with her mother. She wasn’t anxious to be rebellious and abandon certain standards, yet she was convinced that a bit of makeup did enhance her appearance. She also believed that one could wear jewelry tastefully. Christine knew that she was not one who wanted to draw attention to herself, and moreover, she knew that she would not go out in public and do anything that would compromise her values or bring disgrace upon herself.

Although she thought that makeup enhanced her appearance, she had been getting along without it. Fortunately, her skin was smooth and without blemishes. She had her mother’s fair skin, and she had found that makeup gave her face more color. She had often wished that her skin had more color. She had always admired those who could tan easily, but her efforts in tanning had been unsuccessful, thus far. If she were to ever have a tan, she knew that she would have to acquire it gradually.

Whenever, Christine studied her appearance in the mirror, she concluded that her looks were quite ordinary. Her face was oval shaped, and her chin, ears, and nose were unremarkable. She had a rather high forehead and eyebrows that made her face seem symmetrical. Her lips were nicely formed, and her teeth were nearly perfect, which was remarkable, considering the fact that she’d had very little dental attention. Her neck was a bit long, perhaps, but she imagined that certain kinds of necklaces could make her seem quite regal.

If anything made her face unique, it was her large almond-shaped eyes. She knew that there were times when they appeared slightly crossed, but she was not really sure when this occurred. She wished that this idiosyncrasy could be changed, but there seemed little chance of that happening. She had not forgotten that some had made unkind remarks about her eyes. She could only hope that her little idiosyncrasy would not prove to be a liability that would affect her life in some adverse way.

Christine was used to seeing her face, of course, and she had not thought that her appearance was very remarkable, but when some of the girls had recently told her that she was good-looking, she had begun to reappraise her appearance. Was there something that she could do with her hair or makeup that would make her more attractive? Did she have the potential of being beautiful? She wasn’t sure.

She had heard it said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Mother had remarked that “beauty is only skin-deep.” By that, she seemed to be saying that while physical beauty might seem important, there are other qualities that may be more important than one’s degree of attractiveness. She knew that her mother would have been more concerned that she develop characteristics that revealed a kind of inner beauty.

One’s personality was a reflection of one’s interests, talents, and values. Integrity, morality, decency, faithfulness, honesty, kindness—and other qualities—were indicators of things that should be seen in one’s inner beauty. Mother’s advice had included some very important admonitions. She had said things like “Always act like a lady.” Another bit of advice was to “never do anything for which you would be ashamed.” She felt it was important to treat everyone with kindness, and never compromise one’s Christian values. Christine knew that her mother had offered good advice, and she had to respect her for practicing what she preached.

Recently, Christine and Helen had been talking about appearances, and Christine had quoted her mother’s remark that “beauty is only skin-deep.”

Helen had laughed and responded, “Well, that’s deep enough to satisfy most guys, isn’t it!” The remark had gotten Christine to thinking. Physical beauty did seem to matter. She knew that part of her attraction to Jim Pearson had to do with his physical appearance. It seemed that physical beauty and so-called inner beauty were both important. Realizing this, Christine resolved to begin a kind of self-improvement program where she would work on both her inner qualities and her physical appearance.

Christine had noticed that a smile really helps to enhance one’s appearance. Certainly, Jim’s smile was a part of his appeal. So, when no one was around, Christine sometimes stood before a mirror and practiced smiling. Her natural smile was pleasant enough, but she had decided that she ought to smile more frequently. She wanted a smile that was warm and spontaneous, not one that seemed silly or insincere. Although she had nice teeth, she preferred a smile that raised the corners of her mouth a bit without showing her teeth. She had soon grown to like a rather demure half smile which she came to think of as her Mona Lisa smile.

When she was standing before a mirror, it was fun to clown a bit. She could practice various expressions, and before long, she had a small repertoire which could be used for various occasions. It was fun to practice looks that showed contentment, amusement, and delight—as well as surprise, shock, or fear. However, such expressions were theatrical and essentially useless. Nevertheless, she enjoyed this harmless pastime before a mirror, and she occasionally found herself wondering if she might have a talent for acting.

Smiling seemed to be one thing that she could do to improve her appearance. If she perfected her smile and worked on her personality, that could help her to seem more attractive and perhaps more popular. In time, she might be courageous enough to modify her appearance to some extent by changing her hairstyle, wearing different clothes, or experimenting with a bit of makeup.

Christine realized that another thing that made a person seem attractive was appealing behavior and a pleasant personality. Christine’s mother and a few other missionary ladies had been important role models in her life, but at school, the person who had been the greatest influence on her life was Harriet Leonard, the wife of her history teacher. Mrs. Leonard and Christine were not particularly well acquainted, but they saw each other once a week at church and less frequently at school-related functions.

The Leonards were from England, and Mrs. Leonard spoke English with a delightful British accent. She was generally soft-spoken, but she had opinions about many things and she was an interesting and well-informed conversationalist. She had a sense of humor, a friendly smile for everyone, and she was always well-groomed. She had a fondness for tailored clothing and conservative tweed outfits, but she also had tasteful dresses that made her seem elegant and classy. She didn’t wear much jewelry although she had often been seen wearing a pearl necklace that was quite exquisite. She also had some lovely hats which she wore to church on Sundays. In truth, she was not particularly beautiful, but she carried herself with dignity and she always seemed graceful, elegant, and ladylike. She had silver gray hair, and in Christine’s opinion, Mrs. Leonard sometimes looked so aristocratic that she could have passed for royalty.

Mrs. Leonard occasionally filled in when their church’s pianist could not be present, and Christine had seen that she seemed to play the piano flawlessly. Christine doubted that she could ever play as well as Mrs. Leonard, but Mrs. Leonard’s talent was wonderful, and in many ways, she seemed worth emulating.

Christine had seen Mrs. Leonard at various social occasions, and she had taken mental notes on how she carried herself, how she dressed, and how she placed her legs when she was seated. She noted how she used her hands to help express herself, and she loved the refined way in which she spoke. She had seen Mrs. Leonard in the role of a hostess, so she had seen how personable and gracious she could be.

Christine admired her elegant dignity, her cultivated British accent, her tasteful clothing, and her refined femininity. She admired her talent, her pleasant personality, and her graciousness, and although she had a rather long neck, her height and the way she carried herself made her seem almost regal. Consequently, this Englishwoman possessed many qualities that Christine admired and hoped to adopt for herself.

Christine did not know a lot about the Leonards’ background, although in class, she had heard Mr. Leonard remark that they had come from a small village in Devon and they had both been educated in Britain. He had often reminisced about the gentle English countryside that had charming little villages, quaint country cottages, and a rolling green landscape that was edged with hedgerows and stone fences. He had also spoken of the spectacular coastline of their beloved homeland, and he’d described some of the stately country homes that could be seen there. Reportedly, some of the lovely gardens produced flowers of unimaginable beauty.

He had also spoken of English cities like Salisbury, Coventry, Canterbury, and London, and he had told of the remarkable architecture and the countless historic places that one could visit in their distant homeland. He spoke of the glorious cathedrals and ancient castles that could be seen in Britain, and he had told of gracious palaces that were among the finest in the world. He had also reported how exciting it was to occasionally glimpse members of the royal family. The Leonards had viewed tennis matches at Wimbledon, and in London, they had attended marvelous concerts at Albert Hall and live theater productions in the theater district. He had acknowledged that they had dined in historic pubs and charming restaurants. The stories of their travels in various parts of England had fascinated Christine, and she had come to wonder why the Leonards would have left such a pleasant and civilized land to come to this remote corner of Africa.

Christine did not know why the Leonards had left England, but she suspected that Mr. Leonard had probably wanted to go out to Africa “for the sake of adventure,” and being a good sport, Mrs. Leonard had come along and made the best of it in this outpost of the British Empire. Although childless, they seemed to have a pleasant life and would, no doubt, return to England at some point in the future. It seemed unlikely that Mrs. Leonard would ever realize the great influence she’d had on a student named Christine Cartwright.

When Christine was growing up at home, her mother had helped to guide her choices by asking the question, What would Jesus do? That question was one that Christine had often asked herself, and it had proved to be a good guideline for her life. Now, added to that, she often posed the question, What would Mrs. Leonard do?

Part of Mrs. Leonard’s appeal was her aristocratic demeanor. The way she spoke, the way she dressed, the way she carried herself, and the way she played the piano all suggested that she was educated and very much a part of the upper class. This was appealing to Christine, perhaps, because her own background was anything but aristocratic.

Christine was keenly aware that her own background was far from upper class. Helen Von der Merwe’s father was a doctor. Elizabeth Winston’s father was a mining engineer. Anne Stanton’s father was a British official who worked in Swaziland. Other students’ fathers were school officials, instructors, lawyers—and things of that sort. A few, of course, were the children of missionaries—or were from families with equally modest means.

Christine was proud of her mother and was not ashamed that she was a missionary, but she knew that she had come from an economic background that was comparatively meager. While Christine and her mother didn’t live as well as some of her classmates, they certainly lived better than the Shangaans in Mozambique and the indigenous inhabitants of Swaziland. Missionaries, however, did live very modestly.

At home, some of their furnishings and much of Christine’s clothing were used items that had been sent to the mission station from various congregations in the United States. Christine had tried not to complain about the hand-me-down clothing that she had had to wear. Mother had been able to take some things in and modify other apparel so that they could be worn. Such clothing had been appreciated, but having to wear hand-me-down clothing had done little for Christine’s self-esteem, and she was glad that they usually wore uniforms at school, for that helped to equalize the clothing situation.

When she thought about the poverty that was so widespread in Africa, she felt rather guilty for ever complaining. She was grateful for what she had, but she had personal aspirations for enjoying what some called the good life. Among other things, she hoped to someday have a beautiful home, some lovely furnishings, nice clothing—and maybe even some elegant jewelry.

She had never forgotten the lobby of the lovely Vasco Da Gama Hotel in LM. She remembered the mirrors, the chandeliers, and the gracious furnishing that could be seen in the lobby of that hotel. She recalled the elegant carpeted staircase that she had practiced descending—as if she were a lady of some importance! She had daydreamed about living in a home that was as luxurious as that lobby. The lady in her fantasy was beautiful, of course, and came from an aristocratic background. Needless to say, she had lovely clothes, fine jewelry, and she was accustomed to enjoying the good life. Although this fantasy had lingered in her mind for years, it had never ceased to be appealing.

One day, Christine had returned to her room after classes and had planned to do some studying before dinner. Helen had not yet returned to the room, and Christine had hoped to get some studying done before her roommate returned. Although the room was quiet, her thoughts wandered, and she couldn’t seem to stop daydreaming. She thought about Jim, and she wondered how Sara was getting along up in Southern Rhodesia. She was thinking about the self-improvements that she had planned to undertake. And importantly, what did she hope to do with her life? Just what were her priorities, she wondered.

Certainly, her Christian faith was a priority. She couldn’t abandon her core beliefs and the values that had been instilled in her. She could not turn her back on the Lord, disappoint her mother, or disgrace herself as a consequence of making poor choices in life.

Undoubtedly, she would make mistakes, from time to time. Everybody did, but her intention was to try to do what was right.

Education was also a priority. She was still in school, and she needed to learn as much as she could, even though some things seemed boring or useless. Undoubtedly, a good education would increase her chances of having more opportunities in life. She did not know what career she might follow, but education, no doubt, would be helpful in any career she might select. She suspected that St. Mark’s was not going to be the end of her educational experience, but further opportunities might be jeopardized if she did not do well in school.

She needed to do well on her matriculation exams that would be coming up in a few months, and she needed to do well for the remainder of her time at St. Mark’s, and even though she hated math, she knew she must work harder. Unfortunately, it seemed clear that some tutoring in mathematics might yet be necessary.