CHAPTER 3 The huts of the farm workers were on the fringes of the farm.  But James didn’t mind the distance.  He walked briskly, with Tony running closely at his heels. The families were all asleep. They retired early, after the strenuous work of the day.  An occasional wail of a child broke the silence.  James knocked on the last hut in the line. A middle-aged widow lived alone by herself. “Father, why have you come at this hour?” “Hush Menuka, do you want to wake up the whole neighborhood?   Open the door wide, for God’s sake, and don’t stare at me like that.” He carried his burden in, and laid her on the rough wooden cot, on which Menuka’s mat had already been spread. “Who is this?  My God! Is she going to die?” cried Menuka. “Be quiet Woman, and hold the lantern closer.” Then he examined the girl’s wounds.  She had bruises all over her face and limbs, and some angry welts on the nape of her neck. “Thank the Lord it’s nothing serious,” he said.  He shook her arm, to rouse her out of her painful slumber, and she let out a loud yell. “Oh my arm.  It hurts too much.  It must have broken when I fell out of the car,” she cried. James examined the arm, and the girl winced each time he touched it. “It looks like a fracture,” he thought, “Well, I can manage that too.  I feel no displacement.” He had been assisting the Spanish Brother Peter, in the farm dispensary, since he came to live on the farm.  Only a week ago, a man had sustained a similar injury, and he recalled what Brother Peter had done. “Menuka,” he said, “I’ll be back in half an hour.  The girl is not going to die.  She is only frightened out of her wits.  Between us both, we can bring her back to health.  So, put a kettle on to boil, and wait till I come back.” He strode off briskly towards the farm house, filled with all sorts of strange feelings. “Why am I taking matters into my own hands,” he wondered.  “And what will Father Bernard do, if he comes to know of this?” But closely on these thoughts came an inexplicable desire to tend the girl, even if it meant secrecy from his co-priests.  He crept softly into the room that served as dispensary.  The medicine cupboard was locked. “Good Heavens!  I didn’t think of that.  The key is in Brother Peter’s room.  Now whatever will I do?” He stealthily tiptoed towards the priest’s room.  The door wasn’t locked.  He pushed it open.  The door creaked, and James stepped aside, and held his breath.  The priest was soundly asleep, snoring peacefully on his bed.  James stepped in, and reached for the bunch of keys on the wall.  The priest rolled over in his bed and said, “ Don’t disturb me. I’m tired and want to sleep.” James had an impulse to take to his heels, but thought better of it, and waited.  But the priest was only talking in his sleep, and was soon snoring again.  James rushed to the dispensary.  He opened the cupboard, and took out some antiseptic and cotton wool.   Then from the drum of plaster of Paris, he took out four rolls. He prayed that Brother Peter wouldn’t have occasion to detect the shortage, in the next few months.  He thought he would give her an antibiotic, but decided against it, in case complications arose.  An ampoule of Tetanus Toxoid would have to suffice.  Then he locked the medicine chest, and replaced the key in Peter’s room. This time it was easy.  He closed the door and stood against it for a while, breathing a sigh of relief. James hurried towards Menuka’s house.  She was at her door, waiting. “I’m glad you’ve come back quickly,” she said, and led him indoors. James cleaned the girl’s wounds with warm water.  She cried in pain, as the iodine stung her bruises. “There now, you look much cleaner.  We’ll soon fix up our arm, and you’ll be very comfortable.” He went outside, and picked up a smooth round stone.   He plastered the fractured arm in a hanging cast, with a stone incorporated at the elbow, just as he had seen Brother Peter do.  Then he suspended it from her neck with a sling.  He fished out a pink sleeping pill from the depths of his pocket, and made her take it. “You”ll have a good night’s rest.  No need to worry anymore.  The good old lady will look after you,” he comforted the girl. “Menuka, take care of her well.  And remember, this is a little secret between us.  So don’t go spreading the word around.” “You can rely on me, Father,” she assured him. James spent a restless night tossing and turning on his bed. “Perhaps I should inform Father Bernard in the morning,” he thought.  But along with it came the feeling that the priest would send her away. “She is frightened, and needs rest and reassurance.  It will only be a matter of six weeks.  She can go away as soon as her arm is mended.” Then came the voice of conscience.  “James,” it said, “Let’s face facts.  The moment you took her in your arms, you knew that she was a threat to your priesthood.  Let her go before you get too involved.” James jumped out of bed at these disturbing thoughts.  Yes, the girl could prove a threat to his vocation.  Besides, how could he keep her hidden for six weeks? “I’ll ask Menuka to send her away in the morning,” he decided. Then having settled this in his mind, he went back to bed and fell into a deep sleep. He woke up earlier than usual, and went towards Menuka’s hut.  The laborers’ cottages were bustling with activity, as the women cooked an early breakfast for their husbands, and the men got ready for work.  It was still quite dark, and James hoped they wouldn’t see him. He tapped softly, on Menuka’s door. “Who is it?” she asked, peeping through a chink.  “Ah it’s you!  Come in, Father.” “Menuka, I hope the girl is all right.  We must send her away before anyone comes to know.” “But Father, the girl is having fever, and her body is swollen with bruises.  How can you send her away?” “How do you suppose I can look after her?  Do you know what a jam I’ll be in if Father Bernard comes to know? He will transfer me immediately to some other institution.” “But why should he know?  I will take care of her.  If anyone asks, she is my brother’s daughter from the village, come here for a holiday.” “Do you really want to take the trouble, Menuka?” “Yes Father, it will give me something to fill my lonely hours.  May be God will bless me for an act of charity.” “I’m so glad about it, Menuka.  God will surely bless you.  I personally didn’t like the idea of sending her away, but there is no room for a woman in the life of a priest.” Menuka covered her mouth with the end of her sari, to hide her mischievous smile. “No room indeed!” she thought, “What a strapping man like you needs is a good woman to keep you happy.” James walked away with a light heart.  So, she was to stay, and this time, it was not of his doing. The busy day provided no respite.  The vineyards had been watered, and James spent hours supervising the work.  Then followed more work in the fields.  With a large straw hat on his head to protect him from the blistering heat, he drove the giant tractor up and down over the land.  He had taken off his shirt because the weather was too warm, and large beads of sweat glistened on his tanned muscular body.  James looked proudly down at his sinewy arms.  He could very well have been an athlete or a wrestler.  But he had chosen to serve God, and expend his energy in the service of mankind. The work had come to an end at last.  It was time for the laborers to call a halt, and go home.  James strolled over to Menuka, and unobtrusively passed her a bunch of luscious grapes. “Give it to the girl,” he said, “I’ll come over later in the evening.”                             To be continued…..