SHE opened her eyes slowly and as her vision cleared, she saw two fair, pretty little girls with long, brown hair standing beside her with bunches of the most beautiful flowers and a grey-haired white man with soft blue eyes holding a bible, a kind smile on his face.

“Oh God. Did I die and is this heaven?” she asked weakly.
“No, you did not die” the old man answered, “But you’re in a place that is like a little heaven.”
A little puzzled look crossed her face, “Who are you and where am I?”
He nodded to the two little girls who placed the flowers in wooden vases and left the hut.

“Now is not the time for questions,” he said kindly, “You’re weak, you need food and rest, then we’ll talk.”
He nodded to a native woman by the doorway who brought in a steaming bowl of soup that rekindled warmth and energy in her body. She slept for a long while after and when she opened her eyes, she saw not the old man, but the hunter who had saved her life standing in a corner of the hut, looking at her. His expression was relaxed and with barely a whisper, she said, “Thank you.”
He nodded his head slightly and left the hut.

She watched him go, touched by his gesture and sighed, “I wish I could remember something to tell me who I am.”
She was given native clothes to wear, her own torn from her trek through the jungle and in the evening, the old man came back to talk to her.
“You look like a native goddess,” he remarked, a soft look of admiration in his blue eyes, “My wife, I had likened to the sun goddess.”
She smiled at him warmly, knowing without being told that he was a good man with a kind soul.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice still weak.
“You were in a bad shape,” he told her, “By God’s grace, you were rescued in time.”
She smiled slightly, tears gathering in her eyes, and he said comfortingly, “Don’t cry, you’ll be fine.”
She nodded, wiping her eyes and he told her, “I came with an English missionary team over four decades. No one knew of this native tribe deep in the jungle and as a young man preaching the word of God, I found in this place that’s something of heaven. I felt blessed being here and it became home for me.”

“You have been here living with the natives, all this time?” she asked, in a low incredulous tone.
“Yes, I married a native girl and I have three children.”
“That’s so beautiful,” she said, awed by his story.
“My son saved your life,” the old man said “But how did you get this far?”
A distressed look crossed her face, “I don’t know, I just walked, hoping to find a way out. I can’t remember anything, not who I am or where I’m from…” her voice broke.
“It’s okay” he said, comfortingly, I know a little of who you are.

She looked at him surprised, “How can you…?” her voice trailed off.
He smiled, “You were wearing a pilot’s uniform and on the crest is your name ‘Amelia Ciprani’. It’s clear, the plane you were piloting, crashed, the accident causing you to lose your memory.”
“Is that why I keep thinking I love to fly?”

“Yes” he said, “Your mind is still holding onto a little fragment and soon, it will all come back to you.”
She sighed deeply, “I thank God you rescued me but how will anyone find me here?”
“A small group of natives will leave in the morning”, he assured her, “to locate the search party looking for you.”

The search party found the crashed plane and as Arvin stood looking at the wreckage, her plane; ‘Scarlet Roses’, memories of her flowed in his mind and he called for her, “Amelia” hoping wherever she was, she would hear him.
In her sleep, that night she heard a voice call her name, a voice she felt she knew and she awoke, wondering, “Whose voice is calling me?”
“Amelia.”

She laid in bed, thinking about what the old man had told her that she was a pilot and her plane had crashed, the accident causing her to lose her memory. She knew, now though her mind was still in scattered pieces, that search parties were looking for her.
“My family must be worried,” was her distressing thought, “And I’m so far away from home.”

Her eyes closed in sleep, close to the morning hour and when she awoke, sunlight was streaming through the window.
The two little girls came in later and led her to a hut nearby where there was a bathtub expertly crafted from the rich woods of the forest to hold water.
“This is unbelievable,” she said, quietly, as she stepped into the water, warm and scented from the floating flower petals.

It surprised her that the natives had such luxury but as she relaxed in the tub, she realized it was because of the innovative thinking of the Englishman and skills of the native. The girls helped her to dress in native’s clothes and brushed her hair, adorning it with a string of tiny petals. She looked at her reflection, hardly recognizing who she was anymore and turned around as the hunter came into the hut. He was looking different, his long hair neat, his face clean-shaven, and he wore jeans and t-shirt, casual good looks.

“Nice,” she said to herself
He looked at her for a short moment then he said with a slight smile, “Beautiful” and held out his hand, “Come with me, breakfast awaits you.”
Breakfast was a nice little family affair with the old man, Samuel, his son, Nate, a close resemblance to his father, two daughters, more native than European, and his grand-daughters, the two pretty little girls who had brought her flowers and was taking care of her.

“Did you sleep well?” Samuel asked her.
“Not too well, I’m worried about my family.”
“Try not to” he advised her, “Your mind needs to be relaxed, not stressed. The trackers left since before sunrise, they should locate the search parties soon and until then, you’re in good hands.”

She smiled at the old man warmly, thankful for his kindness and understanding, a man of god, honoured by the natives.
And his son?
She glanced at Nate, his long hair giving him that rugged outdoor look, something in a way she could not help noticing.
The food was served, setting her mind at ease and she almost gasped, not having a seen so much food in many days. The flavour of real native dishes, she had never tasted and she savoured the pure delicacy of the pepper pot, cassava bread, beans and corn, a glow of satisfaction on her face.

“That was very good, I thank you for this wonderful meal,” she said to the native/European family who were beginning to give her life a new meaning.
Nate stood and said to her, “Come on, let me show you around my home.”
Nate took her or a walk along the flowing, meandering streams with its crystal water and she watched amazed and thrilled, the exotic birds and rare flowers, a secret haven of nature. Nate held her hand sometimes so she could not lose her balance on uneven ground and twice he lifted her over the rocky areas.

He sat her down on a rock in the middle of a wide stream so she could rest a little and he pulled off his shirt that had gotten wet, wringing it dry and tied it around his waist, then lifted her off the rock. For one timeless moment, standing there close to each other, it looked from above as if God had recreated man and woman in a beautiful garden.

She looked around, lost in thought for a moment, “I wonder if it’s real or it’s all dream that I will soon awaken from?” she asked him, standing there close to him.
He looked at her, her simple beauty, the smile on her lips and before he could answer her, she gasped at the sound of a voice calling her name and she pulled away from Nate, a confused look on her face.
To be continued…