One Face in a Million Book 1: Mu Shangaaniana. William Bond
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