by B. D. Riehl
She remembered that Michelle had watched her from across the table with pleading, apologetic eyes. Lydia hadn’t cared then, and she had a hard time caring now.
The damage had been done, and she had written them all off from then on. She asked her mother if she could sit in church with them, and she never went back to the class. No one questioned her; no girls at church had sought to befriend her since. Except for Michelle. Why?
Uninvited, Michelle joined Lydia in the search for tea. They eventually found some and worked together in silence to fill the teapot and light the stove. It took a few tries, and the tired teenagers, despite the tension between them or maybe because of it, found themselves seized by fits of silliness. While the water heated, they sat on stools at the breakfast bar.
“Can I ask you something?” Lydia ventured.
Michelle, her face open, spread her hands. “Anything.”
“Why are you so nice to me? I mean, I’m not exactly your type of friend.”
Michelle tilted her head to the side. “How do you know?” she asked.
Lydia blinked. “Well…I don’t know. You’re one of those churchy, ‘God is my BFF’ types, so it doesn’t make sense, given what you’ve heard about me at school, that you want to be my friend.” Suddenly she was awash with embarrassment. “Oh, unless…are you just nice because you’re trying to save me or something?” The thought had never before crossed her mind, but now it was so obvious. And it stung.
“No, Lydia. No.” Michelle shook her head fiercely. “Well, it’s true that I want you to know Christ if you don’t already. But I remember the few times you spoke up in Mrs. Hubbard’s class; I thought you were really smart—special.” She shrugged. “I’ve just always liked you.”
“But you didn’t invite me to that sleepover,” Lydia blurted, immediately humiliated at the pathetic statement. She didn’t need Michelle to know how bad that had hurt.
Michelle’s forehead crinkled. “Oh, Lydia, it wasn’t my party to invite you to. But,” she reached out, touched Lydia’s shoulder briefly, “I wouldn’t have gone if I would have known that you weren’t invited and that Beth was going to rub your face in it later. That was awful.”
Lydia straightened her shoulders. “Oh, well, I don’t know why I mentioned it.”
Michelle twisted her mouth. “Because it hurt you.” She tilted her head at Lydia. “Can I ask you something now?”
Another shrug.
“You really think I go around saying God is my BFF?”
The wall Lydia had carefully placed around herself began to crumble as she cracked up at the way Michelle dipped her chin and looked over her glasses at her.
“Didn’t we set out water for tea?” Michelle suddenly asked. They walked to the stove and found the burner had gone out. Lydia rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother, I can’t even boil water.”
Michelle elbowed her. “Well, no one could without heat, goofball.”
The two heard a voice behind them and turned to see Charlotte in the door, bathed in soft light from the hall. “So here’s where you are.”
Charlotte could hardly believe her eyes. She didn’t think she had seen Lydia with a girlfriend in years, not since she started Central Valley and lost contact with her friends from school. She had never been close or even spoken with anyone in church that Charlotte had seen. Michelle was exactly the kind of friend Lydia needed, and Charlotte hated to break up their midnight connection. “Sorry to spoil the fun, but you’ll thank me tomorrow. We’ll be doing some heavy labor, remember? You need some sleep.”
***
Mid-morning the next day, all of the giggles had turned into silent groans of protest. The group had been up since dawn for team devotions, and after a quick breakfast, they started work clearing the fields behind the prevention center and volunteer dorms. The area needed to be prepped for a community garden and, eventually, a soccer field. Lydia’s back ached as they dug ditches for water irrigation. She paused to lean on Charlotte and wipe the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm.
“Torture!” she hissed.
Her sister smiled at her in agreement, yet she had no complaints. Her muscles ached, but her spirit soared. How many years had it been since she’d seen Lydia joke and smile? What a difference the right friend could make.
As if she read Charlotte’s mind, Michelle hobbled over and leaned on her shovel next to the sisters. “Tortuuuure!”
“Seriously,” Lydia mumbled her agreement unenthusiastically, the wall still not ready to fall, even if it was teetering.
The three got back to work. Charlotte noticed a woman that worked with the daycare center venture onto the field, waving wildly until Patsy walked over. The woman’s hands flitted around her throat, plucking nervously at her shirt collar while the woman spoke. Patsy nodded reassuringly and reached to steady her.
Charlotte paused in her work while Patsy scanned the field of volunteers, her eyes shaded by the visor on her hat. She locked eyes with Charlotte and waved her over with a smile. Confused, Charlotte grasped the neck of the shovel and jotted over to Patsy and the nervous worker.
Her mentor smiled as Charlotte approached, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “This may sound a little strange, Char, but we have a special request of you. Can you go with Megan?”
Chapter Ten
Charlotte struggled to keep up with Megan as the woman hurriedly walked back to the center. The uneven ground and her tender muscles worked against her, while she did her best to concentrate on Megan’s panicked torrent of words. The woman wasn’t making sense.
“His sister came to us this morning. She woke in the night to the baby screaming. Her mother wouldn’t wake up, so she ran to our emergency center for help. Kiet and another volunteer found the woman dead, they think from starvation. The baby was brought to our nursery, but he’s been crying all day.”
Megan pulled open the front door and twisted to hold it open while Charlotte entered behind her. She led them up the back flight of stairs and down a long hall. They passed rooms full of laughing children, and the typical buzz of classroom activity. Teachers called out instructions and books slammed shut in the schoolrooms, toys beeped and clashed in the toddler rooms.
The muffled sounds of a baby’s cry became louder as they turned down another hall. Megan opened the door to a bright room decorated with Noah’s ark pictures and rainbows. Cribs lined one wall while high chairs adorned another. Two women sat in rocking chairs with two older babies.
Another woman paced the room, frantically bouncing a screaming infant that couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. All looked to Charlotte with hope; she looked back in confusion.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered in surprise as the baby was pressed into her arms. She struggled to be heard over him. “What is it you want me to do?”
“We haven’t been able to get him to take a bottle. We heard that you have been pumping while you’re here. I know this is strange, but—” Megan rubbed his soft head while he screamed. She implored Charlotte with pained eyes. “—could you try to feed him? We don’t know what else to do.”
Charlotte looked down at his red face in shock. His body convulsed in newborn frustration and hunger. Her heart broke at the sound. Oh, Lord. She twisted at the hip, looking for a free spot and saw that one of the women offered her a rocking chair. Charlotte opened her shirt and stroked the baby’s cheek lightly with her finger. His skin was like soft caramel. He turned eagerly toward her, mouth open, searching.
Will this even work? In reply, her breasts burned as her milk let down. Charlotte jumped as he made contact with her. It had been a while since she’d nursed a newborn, and he had latched incorrectly in his hungry eagerness. She softly broke his suction, infuriating him. “Hold on, little one, just work with me here,” she murmured and tried again. Bingo!
The room fell silent, except for the hungry gulps and grunts of the nursing babe. The other women all breathed collective sighs of relief.
***
Lydia con
tinued to dig alongside Michelle, wondering what Patsy had wanted with her sister. A thick clod of earth sailed between them, followed by another that landed on Michelle’s shoulder. Michelle turned indignantly to find Luke crouched nearby with a wide grin of self-satisfaction. Her eyes sparkled at him as she lifted her arms and, in turn, flung a chunk of mud from her shovel in his direction.
The fight was on.
Lydia quickly stepped back and continued to dig, watching them guardedly, delighted by their play, admittedly jealous of their friendship.
What would life have been like for her if Michelle had started Central Valley at the same time that she did, if she’d been there that first day to sit with her on the bus instead? Her heart ached at the thought of it.
She watched Michelle and Luke wrestle to the ground, covered in the earth of a foreign country, completely at home with each other. She felt the sting of loneliness and the regret of so many wasted years.
The night before, as they walked back to their rooms, Lydia had asked Michelle about her relationship with Luke. “What’s the deal with you and Luke?”
Michelle stopped in the hall and considered her a moment before she spoke.
“Luke and I have been close for years. We are attracted to each other, but we both want so much more than a dating relationship.”
“Are you engaged?” Lydia had asked, shocked.
“Goodness, no!” Michelle laughed. “What I mean is we both have a lot we want to do: college, more mission trips, things that are best done in the years after high school. If we date now, we’ll be tempted to become closer and closer. Neither of us wants to be anxious to be married before it’s the right time.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Can’t you date if you want without getting married?”
Michelle smiled a little. “We could, but neither of us thinks it would work. Once we’ve opened that gate, we'll be more and more tempted to be close physically; something neither of us are okay with until marriage. When you’re dating, there is a lot of pressure, especially now that we're eighteen, to marry right away. We’re not sure God wants that for us, so we’re remaining friends until He tells us otherwise.”
“But,” Lydia lowered her voice, “aren’t you ever afraid he’ll be attracted to someone else, you know—” She broke off, realizing what she was about to say.
“Like my dad was?” Michelle whispered to her.
Lydia was surprised she knew. “Yeah.” No reason to hide her question now.
“Lydia, that happened before I was born, but my parents have been very open about their mistakes. That’s part of the reason I want to wait to date; I want to know for sure I’ve found the right man before I give my heart to him. That’s not to say,” she continued, “that the right man won’t hurt me like my dad did my mom. No one is perfect; all of us are subject to temptation and have to surrender to God’s will daily. I want to practice that before I try to get involved more intimately with someone. Even Luke.”
“But how can you talk as if your parents are okay? How can you trust God when he lets that stuff happen?”
Michelle looked bewildered. “If one of your nieces decides to disobey your sister, is it because she let them? God didn’t let my dad hurt us; when my mom was drowning in her despair, God held her up, supported her, became her everything; and He accepted my dad when he returned to God and my mom in shame and repentance. And He has done a mighty work putting our family back together His way.”
Lydia had considered her then. Michelle’s long brown hair was usually jammed in a ponytail, not teased and sprayed like Lydia’s was. She wore simple clothes, jeans and T-shirts mostly. Her glasses—she had worn one pair or another for as long as Lydia had known her—were the only flashy thing about her. She had always seen Michelle as nerdy—annoying. Now she saw a resolve and strength in her eyes she had never noticed. A deep respect for her was born.
She winced when Michelle ground some dirt in Luke’s mouth.
Kiet appeared at Lydia’s side and explained what had happened with Maly’s mom and brother. Lydia remembered the hollow eyes of that woman and felt sick. Was there something they could have done to help her, but they had missed the signs?
Luke and Michelle ceased their play when they saw Kiet’s somber mood, and scurried to their feet. At Kiet’s suggestion, the foursome stood close together to pray. Lydia felt uncomfortable when Luke grasped her and Michelle’s hands and began to pray aloud. Kiet reached for Lydia’s other hand, which immediately turned slick.
Why on earth was she so nervous?
She watched as the other three bowed their heads. She listened while Luke asked the Lord to be with Maly and her brother, to guide Deliverance in what to do next, and to bless Charlotte for her willingness to step in and care for the baby.
Lydia stared at her hand, held tightly by Kiet’s. The light brown of his skin, entwined with her pale fingers reminded her of cinnamon swirled with sugar. She noticed Kiet watching her and felt her cheeks bloom. He closed his eyes again and picked up the prayer where Luke left off.
“…Father, You are good. I love that I can say that with confidence, even in the face of this heartbreak. Show us how best to love in Your way today. May You be praised in this situation. May You—and You alone—be glorified. Please erase any doubt of Your mightiness and power from this group.” His thumb stroked her finger as he spoke, “Amen.”
And her toes curled and uncurled inside her dirty tennis shoes.
Chapter Eleven
Suchin exited the motel and wondered how she would find her way back. She was surprised when the man that had bought her from Lok Lee appeared in front of her. He quietly indicated for her to follow him, and she stayed close on his heels while they solemnly wound through masses of tourists, both avoiding eye contact. The crowds pulsed, crushing her from all sides, bruising her already fragile spirit.
The man paused at the entrance of the bar where he’d purchased her. She ignored the anguished look on his face, turned abruptly away from him, and stepped inside. A blast of techno music and smoke hit her like a punch in the gut. Her head instantly ached as she looked across the large hazy bar.
Prostitutes of legal age perched flirtatiously on stools next to lonely men, downing drink after drink; the patrons completely unaware of how much they would be expected to pay for the company when they left. Groups of tourists and locals danced in the middle of the room, their bodies writhing, undulating to the music. They looked like a pit of snakes, each taking their pleasure from the venom of another.
Lok Lee spotted her and shooed her toward the back hall. She was too young to be seen in this part of the bar. Only special clientele were given access to her and the others, those with a special kind of perversity.
She slowly made her way to the cramped room in the back and cursed those idiots for bringing her hope. The pain of it stung more than walking back into this place. Like a limb that had fallen asleep and tingled painfully when blood flowed freely again, her heart, dead and cold to any kind of hope, now pricked like tiny icicles crackling through her veins.
The yearning was excruciating.
Even more excruciating was the disappointment she felt from then on; each time she was led to a motel, and Moree and Dugan weren’t waiting for her behind the door.
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte lazily pushed herself back and forth in the rocker with her toes while she softly hummed a praise song. Every few minutes she gave into the heavy droop of her lids, head nodding slowly forward. Her arms would relax and the baby they were calling “Noah” would move, snapping her upright again. Had she been this exhausted when her girls were newborns?
She shifted in the chair, trying to keep alert for just a bit longer. Her eyes were gritty, like they’d been filled with sand. Her cheeks flushed hot from exhaustion; her legs grew restless. She remembered the pins and needles feeling and hoped Noah would be satisfied soon. She pointed her toes and stretched.
Noah ate more heartily than her girls
ever had, that was for certain. She looked down at the tiny bundle, and despite her drowsy state, or maybe because of it, she suddenly relished the feel of his warm body curled against hers. She ran a finger across his brow and down the bridge of his nose. His tiny hand pawed at her back, much like a new kitten kneading on its mother. Charlotte almost expected him to purr.
She was afraid of her deep affection for him, utterly surprised by it. How was it possible to love him so much? She knew nursing had knit her heart to her daughters’ from the beginning, but she never imagined it played this large of a part. They were hers, conceived of shared love between her and Sam, born of her flesh. This boy had been thrust upon her unexpectedly. She had no part in his life, no knowledge of his existence before yesterday, yet he was as much a part of her as her own children. Was it because she provided for him in such an intimate way, or did something greater entwine her heart with his?
There was a soft knock at the door before it opened slightly. Patsy stepped in. “I saw the light under the door,” she whispered.
When it became obvious that she would need to continue attending to Noah, Charlotte had been moved into a smaller room with a cot, rocking chair, and bassinet. She reached for a swaddling blanket and draped it over her exposed breast. Patsy set a large bottle of water next to the lamp on the side table and twisted the top off for Charlotte. She sat on the foot of the cot, her knees brushing against Charlotte’s in the small space.
“My husband always brought me a glass of water when I nursed. How are you doing?”
Charlotte dropped her head dramatically against the back of the chair. “I’m exhausted. But I’m okay.”
They sat together in the quiet while Noah nursed contentedly, his mouth working less and less. When she was sure he was asleep, Charlotte pushed a finger against her breast, breaking the connection. She fastened the nursing tank top, thankful that she still slept in one and had brought a few. Sensing that Patsy, a woman with grown children, would like to hold him, she carefully held the infant out to her. Patsy’s eyes lit up, and she squeezed him to herself.