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Jerome, had requested land from his father, Ainsworth, to build the church. A missionary friend of Jerome and Rebecca had served as pastor until the American mission board transferred him to the Big Island.
    Jerome, with Rebecca’s help, had managed to keep the church open until the tragedy of leprosy struck Rebecca and shed been sentto Molokai. Her father, a broken man, had then departed the islands in search of a cure.
    After that, Ambrose had stepped in to carry on the work as lay minister. The Bible teaching had borne lasting fruit when a nearly blind Hawaiian woman became his first female convert. That woman had been Noelani’s mother. The entire family had turned to the Lord, and Ambrose eventually married Noelani.
    Now that Eden knew Rebecca was a leper on Molokai, she understood why her father had immersed himself in his work of trying to find a cure. His dedication to all the lepers on Molokai had spurred him on to travel the world doing medical research for Kalihi Hospital. Despite his prolonged absences—she had seen him only a dozen times since Rebecca’s incarceration at the leper colony—there remained a special connection between them.
    He had not written much to her in those early years, but later, as she grew older, his letters would arrive filled with news of the world’s medical needs. Eden found them anything but dull. As the years continued his fiery, John Brown-style passion for his cause inspired her to share his feelings. Perhaps it had been his fascinating letters, written from steamy jungles in South America and the Far East, that helped forge her decision to enter the medical profession. Joining the Kalihi staff at the hospital had been her choice, and now more than ever, knowing her mother yet lived, she was determined to follow her father from Kalihi Hospital to Molokai if given the opportunity.
    Eden walked the narrow aisle toward the cubicle that Ambrose used for his office. The enclosure was piled with pulpit commentaries, some of which shed bought for him in San Francisco and sent by steamer, and it provided a quiet place to pray. He needed the solitude, for Noelani’s many Hawaiian brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews loved to call on them, so their small house was often hectic with visitors.
    Ambrose must have heard her steps, for he stood up in the cubicle and looked out into the small sanctuary.
    He was a big man, and at age sixty had developed a rounded middle, but unlike her tall, slim Grandfather Ainsworth, Pastor Ambrose’s stolid stance and dark, smiling eyes brought her a sense of paternal security. Ambrose’s usually sleek silver hair was tousled, as though he might have been praying on his knees with his head in both hands, as he often did.
    “Well, Eden, my dear, come in, come in. I guess you know Noelani’s up at the big house? Nora and Candace are there also.”
    “Yes, I know, but I wanted to talk to you first if you have time.”
    “There’s always time for what matters most. Come up to the bungalow, and we’ll enjoy some of Rafe’s Kona coffee. He brought a load of good beans back from Hanalei yesterday and dropped some off here for the Monday meeting.”
    She followed him through the church door and out along the flowered path toward the bungalow where she’d lived her childhood under his and Noelani’s compassionate patronage.
    “I hear Rafe’s too busy to attend those Monday night meetings,” she said casually.
    “Zachary tell you that? Well, Zach’s the lad I worry about. That’s not to say Rafe isn’t causing me a few sleepless hours lately, but Zach’s behaving strangely this past month or so.”
    “It’s Silas,” she said quietly as they walked along. “Uncle Townsend’s been boasting about his firstborn son and dismissing Zachary.”
    “Yes, a pity for both young men.” He shook his head sadly. “Unless something changes in the near future with Townsend, I’m afraid there’s real trouble ahead. And Zachary isn’t alone in