Destination: Carnegie part 2

The weeks passed by with unbelievable swiftness, until only one week remained before the big night.  The 3 girls had just finished a practice session and were relaxing on the porch discussing the strategy for the last last week.

    “I wish Papa and Mama could be here.”  Klaire lamented.  

    “I know; we all do.”  Viola sighed.  “But God has them in Thailand for a reason; the Khmer people need to hear about Jesus, too.”

    The girls’ parents had been missionaries to the Khmer people of Thailand for 15 years now, but had sent the trio back to the U.S. 2 years ago to live with their uncle and aunt and finish up their schooling.  They all missed each other greatly, but looked forward to the day when they could all be together again.

    The reflective silence was broken when the screen door slapped open with a soft thud.  The girls all turned to see their aunt, silent tears streaming down her face.  Fear struck in Viola’s heart.

    “Girls…”  Aunt Leina began, then sagged against the porch railing for support and began again.  “Girls, news just came that your parents’ boat went down in the river on the way to Bangkok.  There--there were no survivors.”  

    Klaire closed her eyes and sank to the rough boards of the porch floor, prostrate in grief.  Araya let out a despairing wail and began to shudder with sobs.  Viola’s face turned pale, but she swallowed the panic rising in her throat and comforted her sisters, pulling them close to her in a trembling embrace.  The three sisters locked onto each other and wept.

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    The next morning as the girls stared at their uneaten breakfast, Uncle Jeremiah finally broke the silence.

    “Your parents’ will indicates their desire to be buried in Thailand.  The service is going to be at the end of this week; it’s too hot to keep the bodies any longer.”

    “We’ve arranged flights for the day after tomorrow, and return flights two weeks later.  To give us time to get everything settled and the new missionary couple out to a good start.”  Aunt Leina explained.

    An unwelcome thought reared its head in Klaire’s mind, but she quickly squelched it.  This was no time to think of Carnegie.  There were more important matters at hand.

    “I should go start packing.”  Viola pushed her chair back and started lifting her plate from the table.

    “I’ll get it; you girls go on and get your packing done.  I got a head start last night.”  Aunt Leina explained.  

    “Thank you, Auntie.”  Viola murmured, turning toward the stairs.  Klaire and Araya excused themselves and followed their older sister.

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 Two days later, they all boarded the plane that took them to Thailand.  Landing several hours later, yawning and fighting off the jet-lag, they stumbled from the plane and into the tiny airport where the Khmer missionary organizer was waiting for them.  Several hours of backroads, mountain trails, and stream crossings later, they group reached the remote village of the Khmer people.  A crowd of friendly faces swarmed around them, relieving them of their luggage and covering them in embraces of warm welcome.

    “This is everything?”  One of them asked, pointing to the small stack of luggage piled by the main hut entrance.

    “The rest is coming in tomorrow.”  Uncle Jeremiah explained.

    “Of course.”

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The next day, the rest of the luggage came.

    “Klaire!  Araya!”  Viola shouted as her eyes alighted on a tale-tall shape.  The sisters came scrambling out the door and stopped, eyes widening.  A slow smile crept across Araya’s face.  

    “Uncle Jeremiah and Aunt Leina didn’t forget anything, did they?”  She smiled her first genuine smile since the horrific news had come and rushed to the cello case, unclasping it and lifting out the wooden instrument.  They all looked at each other, an idea forming.

    “We may not get to play in Carnegie, but we can sure play here for the Khmers.”

    “What better thing to do in Papa and Mama’s memory?”

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A chorus of mountain cadences accompanied the trio the next night as they performed their piece.  The majestic strains of cello and piano drifted through the small village, sweeping the audience into rapt attention.

The End!