Ian’s neck and ears grew red with frustration. “Then we leave,” he said.
“Where?” Mercy asked.
“Anywhere,” he answered.
“We have no where to put the children, Din,” Karina said, looking as exasperated as her voice conveyed.
“What are you suggesting?” Ian asked, his brows furrowed.
“That we stay right where we are and keep watch. Charles seems to think we can do it on our own.”
“Charles,” Ian said, turning toward him, “you know that is foolhardy. We can’t risk it.”
“Where would we go?” he asked in return.
“Somewhere. Anywhere but here.”
“How far south does the property line go?” I asked.
“Just south of Lake Nyaguo,” Charles answered, “but it’s of no importance because we have no way of building camps, no way of caring for the children once we’re there.”
I breathed deeply. Here we go. “I-I need to tell you all something,” I confessed.
“What is it?” Karina asked, tucking a loose strand of hair from my braid behind my ear.
“I had planned on surprising you all next week but I’ve arranged for a group in America to come here and build you a new kitchen house, install a new generator, do the odd repair and create a concrete court for the children to play on as well as a play area. It was supposed to be for Christmas but I can see it’s a blessing in disguise. What say you, if we have them build the new construction on the south side of Nyaguo instead? Nyaguo would be north of us and it would provide protection, we’d only have to worry about our East, West, and South borders.”
The table stayed quiet, too quiet, and I wondered if I’d overstepped my boundaries. My face burned in embarrassment and I was close to explaining it all away, apologizing and offering to call it off but Karina was first to break the silence instead.
“Our borders,” she said, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Our borders.”
“Our borders,” Ian said, repeating her and smiling my direction.
“Our borders,” Charles said, his hand landing on mine.
Realization dawned on me. “Yes, our borders.”
“Thank you so much, Sophie,” Karina said, covering my only uncovered hand with her own. “You’ve given our hopeless situation hope.”
“You’re thanking me?” I asked, flabbergasted. “No,” I told them all, choking back a sob. “I need to thank you. You saved me.” I smiled at each of them in return. “It was just my turn to return the favor.”
Ian kissed at my door that night sweetly. We all had a plan and there was hope. The next day, we all decided we would begin preparations to move the children. I’d called Pembrook and told him our new plan and he promised to get the men together earlier with new plans of creating an entirely new compound.
We all decided that when the unexpected came, sometimes new arrangements could become that much more extraordinary.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
But with the new extraordinary you still had the unexpected...
That morning, we all woke anew, with a mission. We informed the children of their Christmas present, a new place to live. Many felt uneasy about the potential move but we assuaged any fears, letting them know it would be safer and that they would have a playground and that seemed to liven them up enough to get them excited.
With that, we went about packing rooms in preparation. Our plan was to set up temporary camps within the new territory. Pembrook had somehow arranged for military CHU’s or Container Housing Units to be dropped off within three days which would allow us to house and care for the children during the weeks of new construction. I didn’t want to know how much that was costing my father and I hoped he didn’t either.
By the time the CHU’s had arrived, we were prepared to transport. Most of the children’s things were packed and ready to go as well. There had been no additional sign that the LRA was near or nearing. We were confident and happy.
The night before we were set to transfer everyone and everything, Ian and I were making our way to the CHU’s, twenty minutes south of the then current Masego. We just needed to make a quick pit stop a mile outside the gates to gather one of the missing cattle and mend a broken fence.
“She’s a stubborn jerk,” I said, pushing the cow toward the damaged fence.