by B. D. Riehl
Dedication
Dedicated with much humility, love, and admiration to the Author of all things. May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to You, O Lord.
For the word of the Lord is upright,
And all His work is done in faithfulness.
He loves righteousness and justice;
The earth is full of the lovingkindness of the Lord.
Psalm 33:4, 5
Prologue
Suchin loved to swim. She loved that her village was built into the riverbank; a few dozen bamboo houses set on stilts. Each morning she crept down the ladder of her home, picked her way around rocks in the worn dirt path to the river, and dove in. The murky cool water invigorated her.
Her mother, on good days, would be awake when Suchin returned dripping and shivering and would tilt her mouth to the side in amusement. “Only a child’s soul can handle those frigid waters. Crazy girl.”
The lifeblood of the people was dependent on travelers that hiked through the dense forest or braved the wide Kok River into the village. Most were there for an experience: a night with the locals, an authentic meal, a pass-through on their way to the wild rapids just miles away, or an exotic ride on the back of an elephant at a farm located deeper in the forest. A great many of them were anxious for drugs trafficked through the villages, seeking a special kind of high that none of the young thrill-seekers had experienced in their own homelands. Mostly, they were harmless and even entertaining.
Others came and offered to take the children of the village to work in the city. Most parents gladly agreed; they were poor and on the verge of destitution. With many children to care for, families were desperate for relief.
Suchin and her friends kept to the shaded forests behind their homes when such foreigners entered into their midst. Although the men of the village were addicted to drugs and were often cruel and took pleasure where they shouldn’t, and though the women were also addicted to drugs out of desperation, the children didn’t want to be sent away. The quiet village was home. The only life they knew.
She was swimming alone the day the men arrived on a boat; there had not been adequate time to slip into the trees.
She floated on her back, watching the crystal blue sky. Bits of cloud, like scattered smoke, broke up the wide expanse above. She narrowed her eyes, shut out all thought except for her, the water, and the clouds. She could pretend she was swimming up there, away from the ravenous men of her village, away from her shaky, convulsing mother. Despite the reality of her harsh surroundings, she could look at that blue sky and those clouds and feel that maybe, just maybe, the world did hold some untainted light.
An elephant-shaped cloud drifted lazily above. She smiled. A white elephant—surely that should count as lucky.
Suchin didn’t hear the boat until it was upon her. She shivered involuntarily, despite the intense humidity, when one of the three men greeted her. Her mother hosted the travelers for the night. Suchin served the simple meal of fish and rice, integrated with peppers and spices, while they spoke with her confused, weary mother about hiring Suchin for their restaurant.
“This meal is just the sort of thing we’re looking for. She would make an excellent chef; a beautiful waitress.”
“City girls are lazy and ugly,” one of them said.
“We have to travel to find hard working, pretty girls like your daughter to keep our business running,” spoke another.
Her mother, overwhelmed with poverty, agreed. She was proud that Suchin had been chosen and pocketed the money they handed her; her normally tense features were awash with relief.
The next morning, Suchin and five other young girls were loaded into the large boat. Suchin, already apprehensive, looked at the others that had been chosen. They were younger than she, a few hardly old enough to steam rice.
These would be better suited to a restaurant than city girls?
Suchin knew better than to scramble from the boat, up the worn dirt path, and into her mother’s arms as she longed to. She smiled at her mother—in her discomfort—in her pain. She smiled, for there was nothing else to do but sit, smile, and watch her village disappear around the bend in the river.
Over the next few days, as they were raped and beaten and threatened, what Suchin feared was confirmed: there was no restaurant. The boat of men took their pleasure, often laughing and poking fun at their tiny, rail-thin frames. They passed other villages but didn’t stop until they reached the larger cities of Thailand.
One by one, the girls were sold again and divided among various brothels and parlors. Suchin, sold in Pattaya, looked on the filthy city streets and wondered what had happened to the white elephant in the sky.
***
Two Years Later
Suchin had dreamt of the white elephant again…
She floated past her home village on a makeshift raft. As she passed thatched roof houses, filled with the people of her homeland, the stilt foundations grew taller and those she knew became too high to reach. They watched as the river carried her away.
Her mother, weak and convulsing from opium abuse, others she’d known in her twelve years of living, many now dead, called down to her. Their voices rose in a disturbing wail. Urgent. Haunting.
She clapped her hands over her ears, desperate to escape, longing to stay. The mist closed in. Her village dissipated behind her. The river rushed on.
Suchin’s passage carried her past the country she knew but nothing made sense. The river, normally brown and murky, sparkled an impossible blue as it cut through the mountains. The forest was so dense it looked like a woven, unbroken surface. She reached out to touch the implausible spongy face of the lush emerald giants.
Her raft broke apart in a deep, warm pool. The water rippled from the river on one side and a cascade of waterfalls on the other. One after another, they tumbled, cascaded, and churned into the pool—live, tangible beauty. The descending ebb was crowned with dozens of rainbows. Suchin, used to the dull shadows of her dark world, had to shield her eyes against the brilliance.
Inexplicably, she found herself standing at the crest of the waterfalls. The rocks beneath her feet, wide and slippery, the great might of the falls thundering around her. The water pushed hard against her ankles, splashed up her calves, and she wanted to fall into the churning white foam, to surrender and leave the life she suffered behind. She inched forward.
Suchin heard a soft whisper from within.
Look to the shore.
A large white elephant stood firm beside the river—watching her. The majesty of the rare beast pulled Suchin from the might of the river and she reached out. The elephant held up her trunk…
A moped beeped outside Suchin’s small room that she shared with the other girls. Her eyes fluttered open.
The white elephant vanished, and her dream was replaced with reality. The open space of her homeland now filled with dozens of bodies, forced together in a cramped, muggy room. The fragrant tropical air vanished, replaced with the foul stench of polluted streets and a cloying fog of cheap perfume.
A second horn beeped in response to the first, and the sounds of the market rushed at Suchin in a cacophony of hawkers, roaring motorcycles, and busy vendors. The brilliance of light from the dream melted into muted gray.
Evening had come to Walking Street.
Chapter One
Lydia Gray wound a ringlet of her silky, blond hair around a manicured finger. Her boredom played out in a pattern; twirl, twirl, release; twirl, twirl, release. Mrs. Pruitt, the principal of her small but prestigious private school, droned from the front of the room. She opened chape
l time with prayer, thanking the Lord for being present in the room, for the opportunity to worship Him freely; she prayed for all to know Him, all to acknowledge His authority and sovereign power, that, as a school, they would show His love to the world around them.
Lydia rolled her eyes. The narrow-minded view of this private school aggravated her. A whale that swallowed a disobedient prophet or the idea that all animals of the world were gathered onto one boat was fine for coloring pages for kids. But she was in high school now, far beyond flannel graphs and goldfish crackers.
Her gaze drifted from her seat to the far right of the semicircle of pews to Luke. He sat in the center of the front row, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, and his hands laced together behind his head. Michelle, seated next to him, also leaned forward, her arms wrapped around her middle, periodically nodding agreement and moving her lips along with Mrs. Pruitt. Lydia watched them with curiosity.
Luke Bishop and Michelle Patterson—Lydia had attended First Bible Church with them when they were kids. She had been surprised her junior year when Luke began to attend the same school; annoyed in her senior year when Michelle enrolled.
Who starts a new school their senior year?
Her mother had once said that the three were friends when they attended Mrs. Branson’s Sunday school class at age three. If that were true, they certainly weren’t close now, not that Michelle realized it.
Kind and agonizingly zealous about her faith, Michelle constantly sought Lydia out. After worship at church she would sit next to Lydia, and she would invite her to youth activities. Lydia always said no. If she were asked in front of her mother, she was certain to hear about it for weeks afterwards. Since Michelle had begun at Central Valley that semester, the invitations were frequent, the nagging from her mother nauseating.
“Michelle is such a nice girl,” Lydia’s mother would say. “I’m so glad she’s your friend. A good friend in life goes a long way.”
Friend? Not quite.
Lydia knew that her mother wished she were more like Michelle: Friendly. Outgoing.
Religious. Boring.
She sighed and looked askance to her right at Joey Lawson. As usual, he watched her with all the subtlety of an eager puppy. Amused, she reached for her book bag to retrieve a tube of lip gloss. Lydia and Joey had never talked before she began to date Ethan, though he’d often watched her. Now that she was on the arm of the best football player at school, everyone talked to her. Ethan attended Central Valley purely for the chance to shine in the football program. He was more likely to win a mention in the local newspaper if he was the only one on the field who knew what he was doing. He was an intimidating, husky linebacker with a quick tongue. He intimidated everyone, which in high school meant he had a lot of admirers.
Lydia twisted the wand free and meticulously painted her lips a shimmer of pale pink. She ran her tongue over her teeth and pursed her lips flirtatiously in Joey’s direction. He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat. Lydia reveled in his discomfort; a small distraction from her boredom and a boost to her pride. Ethan had been sour tempered lately; she enjoyed making another man squirm a little, just because she could.
Mrs. Pruitt finally ended her prayer and Jay Driscoll strode to the mic to lead the student body in worship. Joey forgotten, Lydia braced herself against the familiar nausea that accompanied each Jay sighting. Chasing the nausea was a torrent of anger and disgust that flushed lava hot across her cheeks. Jay thanked Mrs. Pruitt for the “inspiring prayer” and looped a guitar over his lanky frame. He called the students to rise to their feet in worship.
Lydia planted her behind firmly in the pew; she never rose to her feet for the chapel worship.
Jay sang songs on a continuous loop, the students closing their eyes and raising their hands as if in a trance. Did they realize they repeated “I” over and over in flowery tones and continuous chords when they claimed to be praising the Lord? It seemed obvious to her that worship shouldn’t be so focused on self—unless, of course, that was the true purpose. Jay was the worship leader, after all. Self-absorbed hypocrite.
“Lydia,” Joey, bag slung over his shoulder, leaned against the pew in front of them when chapel was at last let out, “you busy after school today?”
She stared past him into the accusing glares of the girls at her school as they made their way to class. Yeah, ladies? The feeling is mutual.
She pointedly considered him for a moment. The subtle shift of his eyes to someone standing behind her, wiped the impish grin off of Joey’s face. A heavy hand clapped onto her shoulder as Ethan’s breath, hot in her ear, mocked, “Yeah, Lydia, what are you doing after school today?” His tone held a warning.
She forced a light response, “What I always do; I’m working.” Lydia twisted to look at him in awkward submission. She knew Ethan would give her an earful later, even though she had only smiled at Joey.
Ethan hated the days he was asked to run the sound system for chapel, always anxious that Lydia would “fool around” without him by her side. Not that she had ever cheated on him. Still, his rich brown eyes suspiciously held onto her blue-green ones. He looked hard between her and Joey. Lydia hated to think what would happen to the other man later that afternoon during football practice.
Ethan, still towering above and behind Lydia, gripped her shoulder tighter until a sharp, female voice broke in and interrupted the awkward trio. “Miss Gray, I need to have a word with you. In my office, if you please. You gentlemen better get yourselves to class.” The woman looked over the tip of her glasses at them.
Lydia gave Ethan a small smile, careful to avoid Joey’s gaze altogether, and slipped into the aisle with relief. She had never been a fan of Principal Pruitt, but at that moment, she could have hugged the woman for calling her away.
The relief didn’t last long. In the little office at the front of the building, the principal gestured for Lydia to have a seat, while she positioned herself with legs crossed at the ankles in between the student and her own cluttered desk. She stared at Lydia for an uncomfortable moment before her gaze flittered across the scoop necked sweater and tight jeans she wore. She reached behind her to lift a thin envelope from the desk and tapped it against her leg.
“Lydia, did you know that you’re already failing Government and Bible this semester? Your teachers have reported that you’ve only been to class once or twice all month.”
Lydia lifted one shoulder slightly. So?
Mrs. Pruitt sighed. “Very well, I’ll make this simple; I’m holding a conference with your parents tomorrow afternoon.” She held up the envelope. “I’ll wait until then to give them this report from your teachers. You have between now and then to come up with a way to fix this and raise your grades. We strive for excellence in academics and spiritual growth in this school. Up until now, I’ve chosen to overlook your…” her gaze travelled over Lydia from head to toe, “…lack of interest in the things of the Lord in light of your average grades. But if your grades continue to drop, and you continue to skip class, you will have to find a different school to graduate from. Am I clear?”
***
Lydia didn’t see much reason to stay for her afternoon classes. She tossed her bag into the back of her red Jeep Wrangler, hopped in, and screeched out of the lot. She went to the only place she could think of.
Got Your Back was an eclectic clothing boutique in the heart of downtown Boise. The owner, Zanna, had spent her early twenties volunteering her way across the globe at various nonprofits. She said it was the cheapest way she could find to travel. She spent time at rehab centers, farms, organizations concerned with endangered animals, and other such places in exchange for food, lodging, and cultural experience.
She came home with enough understanding and life skills to eke out a living selling clothes online and eventually made enough to open her brick-and-mortar store. She still maintained her world advocate status and used the store to bring awareness to endangered animals, poverty stricken countries, and how
to make a better effort to protect the planet. The only branch of global outreach she would have no part of was mission work.
“I wasn’t about to go tell people, desperate for food and water, that Jesus is the answer to all of their problems.” She spat the name Jesus out like it didn’t fit on her tongue.
Zanna was petite and sassy. A firecracker with spiked brown hair, tattoos artfully displayed across most of her body, and a new lover every other month. Her business was made of clothes that fit her lifestyle: edgy and organic. She carried a line of vegan-themed clothes as well as stickers and mugs splashed with abrasive political statements. She often complained about being a blue girl in a red state. To offset the changing tides of retail, she rented out the loft above her shop to a yoga instructor.
Lydia parked the Jeep behind the store and made her way to the front where the door had been propped open to let in the warm autumn breeze. Summer heat often hung around the valley well into harvest season. The store was empty, but she could hear the soft strains of the instructor’s music plunking from a stereo and her airy instructions to the class.
Zanna noticed Lydia right away and called a greeting. “Hey, girl! Skipping class again?”
Lydia dumped her bag in the back office and gave Zanna a look. Don’t ask.
“Ahh…that is an espresso-deprived too-much-Bible-thumping-for-one-day face if I ever saw one. Let’s go.”
Lydia followed, as Zanna called to her morning employee Jaycee. “You want something?”
“Surprise me.”
***
They walked a few doors to Cuppa, a coffee shop filled with art and the same clientele that Zanna’s shop attracted. Zanna greeted a few regulars seated outside of the coffee shop in a small grouping of tables surrounded by a black wrought iron fence. They stepped inside the mostly empty shop to order their drinks, Fair Trade black coffee for Zanna, iced java with cream for Lydia, and took them outside and sat at a table bathed in sunlight. Zanna pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lit it, and took a long drag before she waved for Lydia to start talking.