“So how often did these things happen—several times a year?”

“Oh no. Several times a month.”

“A month?” I couldn’t grasp living in such an environment. “So what was this like for the children? Weren’t they afraid?”

“Yes, they lived in constant terror. They never strayed from their parents’ side. If left alone, they would huddle next to a tree trunk for protection.”

“You lived this way for thirty-four years?” How had Abby turned out so relatively normal?

She looked confused for a moment. “No. It all changed when I was little—six or seven.”

“What happened?”

“My father taught the Inisi to forgive.”

“How?” I couldn’t imagine a foreigner being able to pull off such a feat.

“At first he and my mother simply tried to model forgiveness in marriage for the Inisi. Most husbands used to beat their wives when they were unhappy with them. But the turning point came when my father caught the chief’s son stealing knives from our house.”

“What did the chief do?”

“Nothing. He couldn’t do anything. The penalty for stealing was absolute.”

“Which was?”

“Death.”

“They actually executed thieves?”

“If they were caught. My father was supposed to march the boy—he was eleven—into the village circle and slit his throat in front of them all. So the village gathered, and my father marched him out, knife in hand. No one made a sound. He turned to the boy, knelt down to his level, and said, ‘Jesus doesn’t hold against you what you did. Neither do I. You may have the knife.’ He handed the knife to the boy, stood up, and walked him over to his father. The chief broke down weeping. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. After that, the chief decided he no longer wanted our clan to take revenge on the other clans. He forbade it.”

“But the other clans were still murdering and kidnapping.”

“Yes, but only for a while. When the other large clan saw what ours was doing, they decided they wanted peace. Eventually the rest of the clans joined as well. After that, warring between the clans stopped. That was…twenty-six years ago.”

It was an amazing story. If, indeed, her family had influenced the Inisi in such a way, that was an astounding accomplishment. “So if they don’t have a word for it, how do the Inisi now say ‘forgiveness’?”

Abby smiled, her brown eyes warm. “They say, ‘Ée ’e rîløn dsa hua ’i ’ajia’ bi jmee júu quia’ uu’n.’”

“Which means what?”

“Like the man from afar who does not take revenge.”

“Why do you think Poppy sent the message from a mental hospital?” Abby asked again during dinner.