In the morning, bags would be packed up onto the old Mission bus. In the morning, handkerchiefs would wipe away tears. In the morning, promises would be made that might one day be fulfilled.

But that was in the morning. Now, as the sun began to drop in the sky, preparations for a small farewell celebration was underway at the Mission. Fred and Jacob piled wood high for a bonfire, while the nuns and nurses set the long tables for a feast. Food had come from all ends of the region, as well as small gifts and tokens of thanks. The sadness to come at tomorrow's parting was forgotten in the joy of the moment.

Patrick stepped out of the clinic office and took it all in, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The permanent medical team had arrived only that morning, a feat of timing he hadn't expected of the Mission Society, and he had spent the better part of the last day helping Myra prepare the young doctor and nurses for the task ahead. The new team was more than qualified, and Hope Mission had a bright future.

He scanned the yard for his wife. While he knew he wouldn't have been much help packing today, he wanted to make it up to her. He slipped the key to the truck into his jacket pocket and went in search of Shelagh.

He found her sitting on the steps to the dormitory, watching Timothy teach Angela how to play mancala.

"You're just in time, Dad," Tim informed him. "We just finished packing."

"Sorry, Tim. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll do all the unpacking when we get back in Poplar."

"You most certainly will not," Shelagh chortled. "I'll never find my new dresses."

Patrick reached down and scooped Angela into his arms. "And what about you, little girl? Did you help Mummy pack?"

"I packed Bizkit baby, Daddy." She held up the homespun monkey doll Kholeka had presented her with that morning. "Bizkit baby come with Angela."

"He certainly will, sweetheart. Tim, keep an eye on your sister for a little while, would you? I want to show Mum something. Then the night's yours. I promise when Steven comes you won't have to do a single thing."

Patrick reached for Shelagh's hand. "Come along. Mrs. Turner."

The ride wasn't long, and soon Patrick pulled the truck to the side of the road. Miles ahead, the Great Escarpment rose blue and grey out of the flat yellow veldt. A small herd of zebras grazed in the grasses before turning away to a hidden place to sleep.

Patrick reached again for his wife's hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. "Close your eyes," his voice grew husky. "Wait for me."

He ran around the truck's bonnet and helped her down, then led her towards the back of the truck. "You're always busy with Angela this time of day, but you can't leave without seeing this. Open your eyes."

Shelagh looked up at his smiling face. He shook his head and placed a light kiss against her lips. "No, look up, Shelagh."

Shelagh lifted her eyes to the sky and a short breath caught in her throat. Reaching past the edge of the world, the diluted blue of the western sky gave way to a cotton wool of mottled pale pink and yellow and purple. She spun in place, her hand tight in his, "Patrick, it's-I don't have the words for it. I've never seen such a beautiful sky."

He pulled her close up against him, her back warming his chest as the temperature began to drop. "I have the word for it, Shelagh," he whispered, her name a sigh on his lips. "Inspirational. It's like this whole place-the opposites of the grey mountains and the yellow plain, white and black, both kept so distinct, and yet, somehow, there's this incredible beauty right above them."

They swayed together in silence as they watched the colors shift, yellow dissolving into orange, purple finally deepening until the first star appeared. Shelagh turned to face him and lifted her face to his. Their lips met in a long, slow kiss, intimate and secret. After long moments, they parted, their breath still mingling as they hovered close.

"Thank you, Shelagh," he whispered before he kissed her lower lip lightly. Unable to stop, he deepened the kiss again, and the passion rose between them. They could have each other, here in the gloaming, far from the others, and for a wild moment, they might have done. But reason returned, and Patrick put his hands on her waist to allow for some air between them.

"I'm not naive, Shelagh. Six weeks here hasn't made all the darkness go away. We'll leave, and our friends will still have to face this awful system. Back in Poplar, Susie Mullocks will still have those terrible deformities, and God knows what else we might see." He paused, and Shelagh stroked his cheek and slid into the hair at the back of his head.

"The world can be so very hard, Shelagh, but there's always hope. You've helped me remember that, and I'll always be grateful for that."

Shelagh tucked her head under his chin. "There's always a place for hope, dearest."