Grafted Together

By AmandaEve Slattery

Finlay and Arwen McConnell have found great purpose working as teachers in Zimbabwe, but there’s still something missing. Although they have wanted children for years, they have struggled with the reality of an empty house. When the local adoption laws change, they decide to embark on the messy road of international adoption with their sights set on two children they already know. Even though they did their homework, nothing could have prepared them for the tests that lie ahead. How will they find their way through the maze and what is waiting for them on the other side?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AmandaEve Slattery
• Release date: Apr 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463326374

AmandaEve Slattery

AmandaEve Slattery is an author, musician, and teacher living in British Columbia with her husband and their two children. She is busy writing three other book series in various stages of development - a picture book series for young children, a short novel series for early readers, and a trilogy for young adults!Currently available:Grafted Together - distributed through Smashwords and Amazon.Celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas - Ancient Faith Press, AmandaEve Wigglesworth - https://store.ancientfaith.comShe has also published articles in the Canadian Journal of Orthodox Christianity -- http://www.cjoc.ca/

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Grafted Together

AmandaEve Slattery

Grafted Together, AmandaEve Slattery

Copyright © 2020 Llyn Melyn Books.

Distributed by Smashwords

This book is available in print through other online retailers.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Keywords: International adoption, Africa, Canada, humanitarian aid, friendship, family

Dedication

To all those who have brought the characters and story to life – from Zimbabwe to Guatemala, Mauritius to the United States of America, and Greece to Canada – and especially those who have fallen asleep in the Lord since our last encounter.

Mambo, itai tsitsi.

ChiShona: Lord, have mercy

Foreword

I keep dreaming that I have spontaneously gotten on a plane (or two, or five) and flown back to Zimbabwe. Something about the place sank its teeth deep into me, drawing up memories of other places that bit into me with fervour—places that haunt my memories and tease me with the desire to return. It has been eleven years since I left my first love, Mauritius, and I have never shaken it. It is a part of who I am. On the journey home from Zimbabwe, I could tell that I had fallen in love again. The recurring dream of impulsively returning reinforces this sense that part of Africa has returned home with me, and that part of me is still in Africa. I must tell you about the times when Africa took me by the hand, when we walked side-by-side, when we met each other face to face, when we smiled at each other and embraced, and when we said goodbye.

I wrote these words in a newsletter only a couple of months after returning from Zimbabwe, and they still ring true as I start writing this ambitious project. I have visited other countries since then, but none of them fills my dreams the way Zimbabwe still haunts me; none of them evokes such strong emotions.

My own journeys of international travel, missions, and adoption blend in this novel. This novel has been an emotional outlet for me to relive my experiences, but also to create situations I did not experience. Writing, editing, and publishing took me on a completely different journey. After publishing articles and a devotional, this was my first completed novel and is dear to my heart. Beyond being a therapeutic release for me, I hope that the lives of the characters stir your own heart. May they stretch you to embrace the stories of lives that might not resemble yours. More so, may their lives challenge you with the reality that, in fact, they resemble yours more than you realize.

Chapter 1

Arwen’s entire being heaved when she looked down at yet another negative pregnancy test.

After years of trying to get pregnant, she and Finlay had sought help from doctors, but they still had no children. They had decided to try and accept God’s will – to accept that they would not become parents – and had stopped using medically assisted methods when they moved to Zimbabwe to become long-term missionaries. Despite everything, Arwen had an excruciatingly hard time accepting that decision, especially whenever her period came.

Arwen remembered hearing a priest explain to a room full of women that women could not come to the chalice for communion during menses because they were already participating in a sacred experience that drew them closer to God, since the menstrual blood was blood that gave life and this created a connection between God and women as being givers of life.

But experientially, Arwen couldn’t disagree more.

Whenever she saw the menstrual blood, she was reminded of the fact that her body could not give or sustain life. The very fact that she discharged the blood meant that she did not have a life inside of her. To her, the blood represented death and it was during those times that she felt a desperate need to receive the Eucharist. She wanted healing and comfort in the middle of her brokenness. Being denied communion only added salt to her wounds. At those times, she felt like the woman in the Bible who had an issue of blood and who purposefully touched Jesus’ garment and received healing; in those moments, it was like the priest was keeping her from Christ, and it made her more determined to chase after Him and to cling to His garment.

And she was once more. It was happening again.

Arwen blinked back tears as she stared at the single line fading across the pregnancy test. Occasionally, she thought that she might actually be pregnant. She had experienced the symptoms all the books said were characteristic of early pregnancy. Was it possible to create a placebo effect and create the symptoms? She didn’t know, but she was determined not to let a piece of plastic defeat her.

She threw the test purposefully into the garbage can, pretending to be strong. But then, in a violent spasm, her back collided with the bathroom wall and she burst into gasping sobs as she slid down the wall.

Why God? And why can’t I be okay with this? Why do I react so strongly every time?

Yes, she was a little sensitive, and willing to acknowledge it.

She had experienced over ten years of disappointment and innocent inquiries. Some things got easier with time, but the wounds were still deep, and the longing for a child still ripped her apart every time she was denied the opportunity.

The clock in the sitting room chimed eight bells loudly and clearly; it was time to get off the bathroom floor. She needed to dust herself off and make herself presentable. It was time to go forward and pretend that she was happy for her friends who were pregnant and who had children. It was time to not let their comments sting when they mentioned how lucky she was to not have children or how much easier it was for her to be a missionary in Africa without children. It was time to shrug it off when they asked her when she was planning on having a family (as if her marriage did not qualify as a family).

It was time to pretend that nothing was wrong when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry.

Finlay McConnell had already arrived at Holy Trinity Cathedral before Arwen had woken up that morning. Holy Trinity was the Greek cathedral in Harare, the capital city of Zimbabwe, and they attended services there on special occasions. This morning, they were celebrating the feast of Annunciation, and Finlay had arrived early to help the priest set up.

By the time Arwen arrived, it was too late to talk to Finlay about the events – or, rather, non-event – of this morning, so she venerated the icons and found a place on the women’s side of the church.

When liturgy was over, Presvytera Anna (the priest’s wife) strode over to Arwen and invited her and Finlay over for lunch.

Oh, I’d love to, Arwen replied, but we already have plans to visit Tsitsi. She hasn’t been feeling well so we need to go when she isn’t sleeping. Next time?

Absolutely, Anna agreed. Next time.

She chuckled softly.

There’s always a next time around here with all of the church services. Say, do you have some time free to go for tea sometime this week? There’s a nice spot I’d like to show you that has a restaurant and a few artisan shops on a compound. It’s really peaceful there. We can catch up over a bite to eat and stroll the shops. You’ll likely get some ideas for decorating your new home because there are quality furniture pieces at decent prices, and other stuff too. You can’t barter as much as you can at the market, but everything is reasonable.

That sounds lovely! Arwen enthused as she bent over to pick up her purse. It will be nice to visit one on one and get to know each other a little better. How is Thursday for you?

I’m fairly certain we have something on Thursday, but I can’t seem to recall what… Hmm… Oh well. What about Tuesday? The children have the afternoon off from classes, which means that you do too! Dora can watch the clinic while we are out.

Perfect. Oh, here comes Finlay. We best be going.

Can I send anything along for Tsitsi? Anna inquired.

If you have any prepared food that would be great! I’m pretty sure that preparing food is a challenge for her right now.

Just give me a minute and I’ll be right back. Anna turned and motioned to her son Teddy, who came scampering over in his bright red running shoes. I can not believe that your father allowed you to serve in the altar wearing those shoes! She shook her head and sighed, tousling his wavy hair while he wriggled away from her motherly taps. As he tried to run off, Anna beckoned him to come help her.

I’ll be right back, she called over her shoulder to Arwen.

What’s that about? Finlay questioned as he walked the last few steps to reach Arwen’s side.

Anna is going to send along some food for Tsitsi. She invited us to stay for lunch today, but we can’t, obviously, so we will do it another day. Oh, she also invited me for tea on Tuesday afternoon. There’s a compound she wants to show me with a restaurant and some shops, so we can visit and do some window-shopping. She said they have some nice furniture there for good prices. So I’ll scope it out first and then maybe take you another day if there’s some good stuff.

Sounds good. It will be nice for you two to have some girl time.

Teddy returned juggling two loaves of bread and Finlay leaned over to pluck them out of the young boy’s arms.

Two loaves? Finlay exclaimed.

Out of breath, Teddy explained: Papa says to take one loaf to Mrs. Kfira’s because she was not here this morning and you will be going close to her house.

Anna held out a bag with a few containers and added: And here’s some additional food – cheese, tomato sauce, prepared greens. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Thanks, Anna. See you on Tuesday! Arwen said as she took the package from Anna.

See you then!

As Finlay pulled into Tsitsi’s neighbourhood, he transitioned from the gray concrete road without difficulty but there were so many obstacles on the clay roads - ranging from children at play to rusty abandoned vehicles - that he could barely press on the accelerator.

A group of men squatting along the roadside stared at Finlay and Arwen as they drove by. They were somewhat used to it. They often received stares from the Shona people when they were in these residential neighbourhoods. Finlay suspected these people did not see white people driving on their roads very often. Their arrival was a grand event, and the neighbours were definitely watching.

There was a pile of dust-covered bricks blocking the corner where Finlay wanted to turn. Fortunately, he had to drive slowly on these streets because they were so bumpy, so he noticed the bricks in time and slowed down even more as he attempted to turn around the bricks. Some boys interrupted their game of street football and started helping direct Finlay’s turn. They watched the front of the car and kept motioning him forward as though there was still plenty of space, but Arwen wasn’t so sure. She was nervous that Finlay was going to hit something, or someone, at any moment.

After performing a very awkward twenty-point turn, they continued on the dusty road. Mind you, calling it a road was certainly generous. There seemed to be more potholes than road. Nevertheless, one pothole at a time, Finlay parked in front of a house.

It was small, but no smaller than any of the other houses in this area. For most North Americans, it would be inconceivable how more than one person could possibly live in such a small space. In Zimbabwe, a house this size would hold no fewer than four people and would commonly boast eight bodies.

From the outside, the one-story brick shelter looked like it would be one, maybe two – but certainly not three – rooms. The first time they had visited, Arwen had been surprised to discover enough walls to create five rooms. Naturally, the rooms were all quite small, but at least they provided a sense of spaces designated for specific purposes: a kitchen, a sitting room, a toilet (with the sink in the hallway), and two bedrooms large enough to place one queen-size or two single mattresses on the floor.

Today, Arwen and Finlay knew what to expect from the house itself, but they were uncertain about what they would find inside. Tsitsi had been so sick lately. Had anyone visited her to help?

Very few people from the community (and often even from a patient’s friends and family) were willing to come and visit someone who was HIV positive. Even fewer were willing to come once the virus had morphed into AIDS. Finding out that you were HIV+ was a living death sentence. They were the untouchables – the unclean.

Tsitsi was now an AIDS patient, and the McConnells were not sure who, if anyone, was helping her live day to day. She had tried to be independent as long as possible, but it was increasingly more difficult to be independent when she was suffering from fevers. The fevers came and went, but they often lasted for days.

Arwen knocked on the unlocked front door and pushed it open.

Hello? Tsitsi? It’s Arwen and Finlay.

Arwen could hear some rustling from one of the bedrooms, so she put the bread on the kitchen counter and then went to see if Tsitsi was dressed, or at least presentable, before inviting Finlay into the bedroom to visit. He had followed behind with the rest of the food and had gone back outside to tidy up some broken glass he had discovered near the front entrance.

Tsitsi was clothed in a sweater and a light cotton dress that was drenched in sweat. She was rocking on the bed restlessly, clearly in the middle of another fever. Arwen found another dress and helped Tsitsi change into dry clothes. Her headscarf was also wet, so Arwen unwrapped it totally not expecting what she saw next. She jumped when the top layer was uncovered and she saw small, reddish-black insects that she didn’t recognize crawling around in the wet material. Somehow, she miraculously managed to unwrap the head covering without throwing up or alarming Tsitsi. She was so glad that she had thought to bring some medical supplies along, but wished that they had a razor to shave off Tsitsi’s hair.

Arwen took the dress and head covering to the sink and filled it with water and soap to sit, and then put a pot of water on the stove to boil so she could sterilize the garments. She would need to wash the sheets too. Arwen sighed. Clearly, no one had been to visit recently enough. She got some cool water with lemon juice and a bowl of the cooked greens that Anna had sent and took them into Tsitsi and tried to feed her a little.

When the water had reached the boiling point, Arwen took some of the water into a basin and then placed the dress and head covering into the pot to boil. After adding some cooler water to the basin, she brought it into the bedroom with some soap and tried to wash Tsitsi’s hair while she lay on the bed.

When Finlay came in from cleaning up the yard, he found Arwen hard at work.

So, he asked, how is she doing?

Oh, Fin, Arwen breathed deeply and shook her head while searching for words to express her thoughts. There were bugs in her head covering and I’m certain they are in her hair. I wish we could shave her head to be sure that the bugs are not living in there. I’m washing her dress and head covering, but the sheets and pillow will need to get washed too. It’s so disgusting!

Yeah, no kidding. I’ll check around and see what supplies I can find around here while you work on washing her hair.

Great, thanks.

After a few hours, Arwen and Finlay had managed to shave Tsitsi’s hair off, put antibacterial lotion on her scalp and on other spots of her body that needed it, feed her a few times, wash her clothes and sheets, sweep and mop the floor, and pick the ripe produce from the garden.

I’m exhausted! Arwen declared. It’s time to start going home so that we’re not driving in the dark. We still need to stop at Kfira’s to give her the other loaf of bread.

Finlay agreed. I’m ready to go when you are.

Dusk usually arrived between 4:30 and 5:00. It was amazing how the day went from being fully sunny and hot to suddenly covered in darkness. They wouldn’t think twice about driving in the dark back home in Canada, but they had been warned more than once about driving at night here. It wasn’t safe to be out after dark, even in a car. It was just best to be inside, so they tried to be home before dark whenever possible.

Arwen did a quick sweep with her eyes to make sure things were in order before departing. She refilled Tsitsi’s water glass, put the rest of the food in the fridge, and took out the garbage. She paused and made the sign of the cross on Tsitsi’s sleeping forehead that was once again beaded with sweat, and then followed Finlay to the car.

They found their way to Kfira’s house and visited with her briefly before getting back into the car and navigating the busy streets back to their neighbourhood.

Another long day was done. They were home and could relax in their sitting room until the power went out. Tonight, it stopped at 8:43. They got ready for bed by candlelight, and fell asleep to the sounds of car horns blaring in dissonant harmony. They didn’t usually hear the highway traffic from their house, so there must have been an accident or a roadblock causing a disturbance for those who were willing to drive at night.

With earplugs in and pillows over their heads, they tossed and turned before drifting off to sleep.

Anna had originally invited Arwen for coffee, but coffee was realistically either in the morning or the early evening. Since they were planning to meet in the early afternoon, their coffee date fell within Zimbabwe’s two pm lunch time.

Arwen still had difficulties adjusting to the eating schedule, and often ate small meals throughout the day in order to keep her blood sugars on track. When she was at home, she frequently had cut fruits and vegetables sitting on the counter for her to snack on. When she knew she would be out for most of the morning, she brought snacks with her. Usually, the snacks were not necessary, since other people offered their hospitality regularly. However, the days when she had forgotten to bring food with her turned out to be the days when she had needed it the most, so Arwen made a point of always having something with her.

Today, she had already eaten her emergency kit and was starving. She was just draining the last of a juice box when Teddy and Dora burst through the clinic door with Thea and Phil on their heels.

Arwen triaged patients while Anna debriefed with all the kids about their day at school and their homework assignments, then she briefed Dora and Teddy regarding the patients so they could continue running the clinic in Anna’s absence. Although the twins were only twelve years old, they both had basic first aid training and had already been helping in the clinic for a few years. They were being raised in a culture in which children were granted responsibilities at a young age, and having a nurse for a mother also helped their learning curve in the medical field.

With the baton fully passed, Anna kissed each of her children and led Arwen to her car.

They drove for fifteen minutes or so before Anna pulled into a small compound and parked the car. Located off the busy road, the walled compound was calm and peaceful. There were many petite, one-story buildings with walkways linking them. Trees and shrubs provided a splash of colour with their bright pink, purple, and orange flowers.

Since they were both hungry, they decided to eat lunch first and window shop later. Anna led Arwen to the café where they found many others already seated and eating. To their good fortune, there were still a few tables available so they would not have to wait. They had their choice of sitting inside or outside, and after a quick debate, decided to try eating outside before the daily afternoon rain started.

The café boasted simple wooden tables covered in blue batik cloths – homemade, no doubt, probably by a family member of the café owner. Arwen was constantly amazed by the industriousness of the people here.

She recalled her search to purchase a skirt like the Shona women wore. She hadn’t been able to find the skirts in any of the shops or markets and had finally asked a woman where she could get one. She figured there was surely a source, since all the women wore them! However, the woman informed her that they made the skirts themselves.

Of course. Silly, Arwen, she had thought to herself. Where else would they get them?

If she wanted one, she had to get someone to make one for her, or to teach her how to do it.

These people put her to shame. For all that she knew how to do, she was constantly being reminded of her dependence on the convenience of purchasing ready-made products. Today’s outing was another example of this dependency. In moving across continents, they had obviously not brought much with them, and certainly not furniture. The shops here, in the compound and elsewhere, all boasted handmade products. Furniture, textiles, baskets, art, jewelry, greeting cards, soaps, bags, clothing, shoes, honey, peanut butter, chickens, eggs… Almost nothing comes from a grocery store or Wal-Mart; it comes from the earth and someone’s hard work. The signs of western technology – name brand t-shirts, compact disks, cell phones – all seemed out of place here, and yet they were also part of the fabric of this society.

Arwen and Finlay did not have the skills or the tools to make their own products, so she consoled herself with the fact that by making purchases from the locals, they were supporting the economy, and this was desperately needed too. Part of their ministry was to pay a man for shoes, so he could pay for potatoes to feed his children. This was not even a paycheque-to-paycheque society; most people did not receive salaries or paycheques, so they went from sale-to-sale. The prices were very reasonable and could even be bartered, so that wasn’t the issue. She was simply humbled by the hard-working nature of these people and by their diversified skill sets.

Arwen was fingering the blue flowers and animals in the tablecloth when the waiter came to take their order.

Sprite. No ice, please. Arwen was pleased that she had remembered to ask for no ice. Not even the nationals took ice in their beverages (Rafael said they all boiled the tap water too, even in the cities, just to be safe),