Martha had taken a bus downtown to visit the wounded at the Jinnah hospital. The bus stop was about four blocks from the hospital, so she didn't bother with a taxi. She just walked. Joseph had protested against her going to the hospital, but she had made him some tea and fussed over him a bit before leaving. She had two older brothers and had learned many years before how to handle men who felt they had to protect her.

Besides, she knew she was in no danger downtown. It was back in the colony near the mission that she might be recognized. Here she was just another middle-aged woman. She kept her hair covered, and her dress didn't distinguish her from anyone else on the street. No one would know she was a nun.

She was more worried about Paul than about herself. She said a quick, silent prayer for him. He was a very special person. She hadn't expected him to ask her to pray in the service that morning. He'd never done that before. But when she looked into his eyes, she knew he was right. She had to take more leadership in the church. And when she stood up to pray, the words just came to her. It was as though the Holy Spirit had spoken through her.

She bowed her head and mentally crossed herself. It was presumptuous of her to think that God had chosen her for some special purpose. Of course, she felt called to be a nun. But that was different. When she was a young teen-ager, she'd been raped by her uncle. He had a drinking problem and had found her alone in her house. She'd fought him, but it was no use. Afterwards he threatened to kill her if she told anyone, and she never had. But if she had married, her husband would have found out that she wasn't a virgin. He might have thrown her out, or used the information to blackmail her family. She couldn't allow that, so she decided to become a nun.

She'd hated men after that, except for Jesus. She had prayed to Jesus, day after day, sobbing and shaking with rage and fear, until her period came and she knew her prayers had been answered. She could tell all her troubles to Jesus. She opened her heart to him and felt his presence all the time. He never spoke to her, but she knew he understood her suffering and had forgiven her for her hatred of men.

She couldn't imagine being married. Wives had to serve their husbands constantly, and if they had children they were always busy caring for them. If they didn't have children, then their husbands might reject them and try to father a child with another woman. Some of the Christian men even thought they ought to be able to have more than one wife, like the Muslims. And most of them treated their wives like property. No, she couldn't imagine being married. She had much more freedom being a nun.

Paul was different from most men, she admitted. He saw her as an equal. He didn't order her around, and he wouldn't take advantage of her. Perhaps if she hadn't been raped and had met Paul before he entered the priesthood . . .. But he was a priest and she was a nun. In many ways, that was better than being husband and wife. They had their personal privacy, yet they were able to work together as partners. Martha smiled. God had been good to her.

At the hospital, Martha was quickly admitted to the patients' ward. She was well known to many of the nurses, because she came often to visit the sick. The hospital was reasonably well furnished. They were fortunate that Christians were allowed to use it.

She stopped at the first bed in the ward containing those injured yesterday. "Hello, I'm Sister Martha," she said softly, her voice warm and concerned. "How are you feeling?"

The man shifted his weight slowly in the bed. His face was battered and his left arm was in a cast. "I'm pretty sore, but I feel a little better." He tried to smile. "I'm just glad to be alive. When I saw those guys coming toward us with their clubs swinging, I thought I was a dead man."

"Does your wife know you're all right? Is there any one you'd like me to contact?"

"I got a message to her this morning, Sister. But thanks for asking."

Martha moved on to the next bed. She recognized Peter, although his broken nose was taped and he had a bandage on the top of his head as well. He seemed to be asleep, so she didn't stop. But she said a silent prayer for him.

In the third bed a younger man smiled warmly at her. He didn't look badly injured at all.

"Good morning, " she said. "I'm Sister Martha."

"I'm Daniel," he replied. "How did you know we were here?"

"I work at the mission with Fr. Paul. I saw him this morning, and he told me what had happened yesterday." She didn't want anyone to know that they had spent the night together in the closet. She didn't think Paul would mention it.

"Is Fr. Paul all right? We saw him go out the back door, but we didn't know if he got away or not."

"He's fine. He got away safely. He's only sorry that you and the others were caught in the room and beaten."

"At least I wasn't arrested. When I saw the Security Forces come in, I thought I was a goner. But then Joseph helped me get out the back of the room. Once we were in the hall, we just waited until the ambulance came around to the back of the hotel."

"What is your injury?" she asked. She couldn't see that anything was wrong with him.

"It's my knee. I got hit with a club, and it's smashed. I'm afraid I'll have a stiff leg for the rest of my life."

Daniel's eyes suddenly filled with tears. He brushed them away quickly with his hand. "I shouldn't be feeling sorry for myself. I was lucky. My face wasn't messed up, and I didn't get arrested."

Martha took his hand. "You don't have to feel guilty about feeling sorry for yourself. It must be terrible to know that you'll have a bum leg." She sat down carefully on the side of the bed and took his hand in hers. "Is there anyone you'd like me to contact for you? A wife, or your mother?"

She could see him flush. "I'm not married, and my girl friend is working today. I'll get a message to her tonight or tomorrow. My mother's in the Punjab, so she won't be worrying about me. It's really nice of you to ask though."

Martha had thought she'd recognized his accent. "How long have you been in Karachi?" she asked.

"Four years. I came looking for work. I was lucky to get a job in construction. There's a lot of building going on in Karachi, and I discovered a Hong Kong contractor who is willing to hire Christians."

She could feel the hard calluses on his hand. Suddenly she realized she'd been stroking his hand softly. She gave his hand a friendly pat and a squeeze, before releasing it as she stood. "I hope you recover the use of your knee, Daniel. I'll pray for you."

Tears slipped into his eyes again. "Thanks, Sister."

As she moved on to the next bed, she saw Paul come into the ward. When he saw her, a look of anger crossed his face. He came toward her quickly. "I thought I told you to stay at the church."

"Joseph is there, watching the phone," she answered gently. "There's no need for me to wait there. So, I came to visit the injured."

"But it's not safe for you to be out," he insisted, raising his voice.

"Paul," she whispered, "Stop treating me like I'm your wife!"

For a moment Paul looked completely bewildered. Then he laughed, before whispering back. "You're right. I was bossing you around. Sorry." He smiled and shook his head. "You're something else."

They walked out into the hall together, their shoulders almost touching. When they couldn't be overheard, Martha asked, "Did you find out about the people taken away by the Security Forces?"

"I discovered where they are. I've given the information to Javed, but I haven't had a chance to check back with him."

"Paul, I'm worried about you. You're the one who shouldn't be wandering around the city. You should be back at the mission, where our people can watch out for you."

"David and Michael are watching out for me downstairs. I'm as safe here as you are." He looked pensive for a moment. "I just remembered that I should have called Hassan earlier. I don't know if he's all right. I've been so worried about our people, that I forget about him."

"You can probably use the phone at the nursing station," Martha said. "I'm going to go back in the ward and visit some of the other patients. Let me know when you're ready to leave, and I'll go back with you to the mission."

"All right." Paul put both of his hands on her upper arms and gave a little squeeze. "Thanks for all your help and for being so brave. You put me to shame."

"We're not competing for an award, Paul. We're in this together."

"Yes, I'm afraid we are. But I feel guilty about putting you at risk."

"Don't feel guilty. God has called me to help you through this trial. You know that as well as I do."

Paul nodded. He knew she was right. There was no way to know where this struggle would lead now, but surely it was God's will that they go forward. He watched her turn and walk briskly back into the ward. He realized how much he relied on her strength. If anything happened to her, he would be devastated.

Slowly he walked to the nurses stationed and asked to use the phone. This time when he tried Hassan's number, there was an answer but he didn't recognize the voice. "Hello, this is Fr. Paul. May I speak with Mr. Hassan?" There was a moment of silence, before he heard Hassan's familiar voice.

"Hassan, are you all right?" Paul asked.

"They torched my house last night, Paul. But I wasn't there, so I'm fine."

Paul felt his spirits sagging. Perhaps Hassan would pull out of the case. "I'm so sorry, Hassan. Was anyone hurt?"

"No. They overcame my security people, but they didn't hurt them. After the fire was started, they let them go."

Paul knew that Hassan must have insurance on his house, so he wouldn't suffer any immediate financial loss. But Hassan might be tempted to call it quits. "I talked this morning with Javed," Paul continued. "A couple of men tried to burn him out, but they weren't successful. It looks like they planned to get us all."

"Paul," Hassan said, pausing for a moment. "My relatives have asked me to drop the lawsuit."

Paul was silent, wondering what to say. He knew Hassan's family was involved in importing and exporting, a business that depended on government contracts and licenses. Surely his relatives were afraid that Hassan's involvement would hurt them financially. And they had good reason to be concerned.

There was silence on the line for a moment, before Hassan continued. "But I told my uncle that our petition is too important to be dropped. I'm going to use all my influence to get it heard by the Supreme Court as soon as possible. I'm afraid only a Court ruling will take the heat off us."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Hassan."

"You thought I might quit?" Hassan said. There was anger in his voice.

"No, but I can't appreciate how much pressure you're under. My friends are worried about me, but they support our cause. You've got family and friends worried about you, but they may not support our cause and that makes it harder for you than for me." Paul had doubted Hassan, but he didn't want to admit it. He hoped that argument would make enough sense to Hassan to get him off the hook.

"There is a lot of pressure on me," Hassan replied, after a moment. "But I think I can handle it. You just take care of yourself."

"I'll be careful," Paul said, before he hung up the phone.

As he came up the hall toward the ward, Martha was just coming out. "Are you ready to go?" she asked.

"Yes, after I talk with Peter."

"He's either asleep or unconscious. I can't tell which. I'm afraid you'll have to try later."

They walked slowly toward the elevator and pressed the down button. "Hassan's house was burned down last night," Paul said, but he regretted saying anything about it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He saw Martha's face crease with worry.

When the elevator doors opened, there were several persons already inside, so they squeezed in and didn't say anything more until they were in the main hall downstairs.

"Is Hassan all right?" Martha asked.

"Yes, he wasn't there. But his family is putting pressure on him to drop the case. So far, he's holding up."

They joined Michael and David. Martha noticed that as they walked ahead of the two young men toward the door, Paul was careful to keep a little distance between them. She felt her fingers tingling and realized that she'd been thinking of Paul, when she was holding Daniel's hand. She blushed, as she recalled the surprised look in Daniel's eyes. Silently she prayed for Daniel, for Paul, and for all those who were injured or in danger. "Keep him safe, Jesus," she whispered as they left the hospital and walked to where a taxi was waiting.