The Earth Is Full (Child of Deliverance Series Book 1)

by B. D. Riehl

  A soft knock at the door sent her heart into her throat. Here it was, her opportunity to talk to Megan and watch the Lord work this out.

  Megan stood in the hall, shoulders slumped, brow furrowed. She didn’t meet Charlotte’s eye when she asked to come in. Charlotte opened the door wider and sensed what Megan had to say before she said it. Her heart, so full of joy and hope and happy plans, shattered into a million pieces on the floor around her feet. Megan’s eyes filled with tears as Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’m so sorry.”

  Charlotte clenched Noah closer to her, completely unable to process what was happening. “No,” She whispered again. “No, they couldn’t have found family. They couldn’t have.”

  “I’m so sorry, Charlotte. They came this morning, and I’ve spent the day confirming that they are, indeed, family. They have witnesses. It’s his grandparents. They were very sad to find out about their daughter and would like to take Maly and Noah tonight.” She reached out to steady Charlotte while she reached back to press against the wall.

  “But—” Charlotte’s voice came out strangled, scratchy, “—but I was going to ask…we were supposed to…I want to adopt him.”

  Megan’s eyes were pained, and she shook her head. “We need to get his things together. You’ll have a few minutes to say good-bye, but I need you to bring him downstairs after you do.” Megan squeezed her arm and rested her hand on Noah’s soft head, nuzzled under Charlotte’s chin, before she turned and slipped out the door.

  Charlotte’s knees gave out and she sank to the floor with Noah in her arms. Gone was her elation from moments before. Just like that, her dreams for Noah vanished like the morning mist.

  What is going on, Lord? How did we so completely misunderstand? How can I say good-bye to this boy? This boy was conceived in my heart and is part of me now. How can I do this?

  In a trance, Charlotte carefully placed Noah in his bassinet and packed a few items in a diaper bag that someone had donated to the center.

  Blankets: Her eyes misted, wondering if he would have enough of them.

  A bottle: Her heart clenched as images of the starving Cambodian children that surrounded this country stabbed her eyes.

  The sling: She would never forget the sweet way his body curled into hers and the way her lips so easily brushed across his soft hair.

  Charlotte sat on the bed and rested him on her legs, gazing in wonder at him. He was so intricately and wonderfully made. She rejoiced in the God that formed him, even as she wondered what in the world He was doing.

  Noah opened his eyes and gazed right back. She locked into that moment and, for just a moment, entertained the idea of sneaking out the back door with him. She knew there was no escape from this. Her very worst fear had come calling, and her heart slammed in her chest at the thought of handing this boy over to strangers.

  But they are his family. He is theirs, not yours.

  There was no way out of this. No amount of prayer would cover the ache or change the situation. She couldn’t call the prayer chain to get out of it. She had to give Noah back to the Lord and trust Him to care for His child. She would never recover if she didn’t.

  Charlotte leaned her forehead down until it rested lightly on his. She prayed over him, tears coursing down her face into her hair, wetting his soft skin. She pleaded with God to watch over Him, asked for a loving family to envelope him for his entire life. Prayed that he would be cared for, fed, clothed, bathed, educated. Loved.

  Mostly, she thanked God for her short moments with Him, praised Him for the gift he was. She whispered verses as they came to her over the babe, like a benediction. She didn’t believe in baptizing children when they were babies; believed that baptism was an outward expression of a personal choice made when one was old enough to understand it. Parents couldn’t save their children ahead of time by having a priest sprinkle water on them. But in that frightening moment, she understood the desire to shower a helpless child in the protective covering of the Lord.

  Her tears, prayers, and hushed verses created a holy covering she hoped would carry him through life until he was ready to claim Christ as his own. That as an adult, he would be pulled to the Lord, not because of her, but because God had cared enough about him from the beginning to have one of His lowliest servants care for him and pray over him.

  Charlotte knew this was a moment that was entirely beyond her and thanked the Lord again for His grace. What precious grace. It was as if the room shuddered with holy brilliance.

  Where moments before she wondered how she could stand to give this baby away, she now felt herself uplifted and held steady by the servants of the Lord. Angels had been sent to minister to Jesus when faced with His most crucial moments on earth. It seemed He had seen fit to lend her a few.

  Charlotte rose, took a deep breath, and carried Noah downstairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lydia woke to Michelle humming softly as she bustled around the dorm room. The group had been instructed to meet in the front lobby of the dorms, but Lydia couldn’t rouse herself enough to walk to the hall. Her eyes burned with sleepy grit. She rolled onto her back rubbing her face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion. She scrunched her nose. Her unwashed body, salty and crusty from days of work and walking, was ripe. A hot, steamy shower sounded so good. She could imagine her shower at home, the shelf above the clean white tiles lined with fancy body wash, shampoo, and deep conditioner. She closed her eyes, daydreaming about a shower, a razor, and expensive lotion to fragrance her clean, smooth legs.

  “Morning,” Michelle called softly from where she sat on the floor lacing up her shoes.

  Lydia snapped her eyes open. She took a deep breath. Yep. She still stunk. She rolled onto her side with a groan and propped her head in her hand. “Morning,” she yawned.

  “What time did you get in?”

  “Late.”

  After Kiet had run off, she sat in the quiet for another hour or more, twisting the bracelet around and around her wrist. She could feel it on her arm now, heavy with importance.

  Michelle stared at her, but Lydia didn’t want to share more.

  “I put your journal on top of your pack.”

  ”I saw that, thanks.”

  The room fell quiet again, both feeling the effects of their travel, both still heavy from the experience on Walking Street.

  Lydia let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I better get up. Although it would be a lot easier if I knew fresh coffee was waiting or a hot shower.” Immediately she felt guilt over her words. The girls they saw last night probably had no access to those and would wake this morning wishing for so much more than coffee. Wouldn’t they?

  Michelle, seeming to understand, smiled. “We’re definitely not used to being this, eh…pungent; are we?” She made a sour face and winked.

  Lydia smiled, so grateful to have Michelle as a friend, disappointed that it had taken a trip across the world for her to see what had been available to her for years. Lydia methodically drew on a pair of capris and a Deliverance T-shirt, the cleanest one she could find, and they met with their small group in the lobby. Paul arrived soon after and greeted them with a morning blessing.

  “I have exciting news!” Paul said, waving his arms for the group to step in closer. He made sure everyone was close enough to hear before he continued. “Our guys were able to rescue a young girl last night that they’ve been trying to reach for sometime. She finally said yes, and as we speak, she is on a plane out of Pattaya.” There was delighted chatter among the weary travelers.

  Paul’s face beamed at their joy, and he motioned with his hands for them to quiet down. “And during a separate rescue from a karaoke bar in a neighboring town, we were able to turn the rescue of one girl into the deliverance of half a dozen!”

  Lydia smiled a little at his Australian accent; it was thicker, she noticed when he was excited. And why shou
ldn’t he be? Seven girls delivered in one night! The hair on her arms rose in thrilling chills.

  Paul’s face grew serious for just a moment. “Now,” he said, “the one small girl was in bad shape and great danger which is why we sent her on to another facility. But the other girls we can’t get on planes that quickly so it’s best for them to be here, but we’re short on room. Do any of you mind being moved to a nearby motel for tonight?”

  The group chorused, “of course not!”

  Paul’s face broke into a wide grin. “Ah, I knew you all were good mates. We’ll go about our day then, and you can check into the motel tonight.” That taken care of, he led them out the door and onto the street.

  Lydia noted with disappointment that Kiet hadn’t come along with them. Could he have been involved in any of the rescues the night before?

  Deliverance’s Pattaya facility was located in a quiet area. A few restaurants and an open market could be found there but not much else. Lydia breathed deeply of the thick air, already warm in the early morning sun. The street was narrow and tight; the buildings on either side were mismatched and uneven as if the people who lived and worked there had repeatedly piled scraps of wood and shacks one on top of another over the years. The effect was colorful, eclectic, and oddly charming.

  The breeze tousled the strands of hair that escaped from Lydia’s braid. It was spiced with curry from the day market a mile away; she would never forget the smell of sweet flowers and sour streets. Lydia couldn’t believe this was the same city that housed the horrors of Walking Street.

  As they followed Paul, she wondered how many girls awoke this morning, sore and ashamed. Her elation at the rescue of so many quickly faded. Yes, seven were safe, but how many others were not? How many little girls were crying today, frightened by the things done to them, knowing more was to come? What about the teen in her outfit? What was she doing this morning? Lydia’s heart ached with the thoughts assailing her. Her mind went where it usually did: How could a loving God allow—?

  She felt movement near her wrist and quickly jerked her hand around. Michelle and Luke, deep in conversation about their worship set later that day, turned to her questioningly.

  “Mosquito, I think.” Lydia waved her hand as proof, but there was no bite mark, just the little beaded bracelet. She had forgotten about it and felt goose bumps sprout over her flesh. Had there even been a mosquito? She’d fallen into her familiar doubt immediately this morning and it was as if the bracelet jumped on her arm, reminding her: No Doubts. Just Believe. She shook her head.

  I definitely should have gotten more sleep last night, she reasoned.

  Before she could further ponder her need for rest, Paul stopped at a small café and opened the door for everyone to step in ahead of him. Lydia followed behind Luke and Michelle, immediately entranced by the small café. It seemed so out of place for the mismatched street they’d come from. The smell of coffee beans permeated the air, and she could see beautiful pastries and other breakfast items displayed artfully in the pastry case beneath the coffee bar.

  Lydia’s stomach fluttered with happiness at the familiar sounds of an espresso machine. The screaming and churning as milk was steamed, paired with the heady smell of roasted coffee, reminded her of Cuppa. She felt a little homesick. The half dozen or so young women, working busily to brew coffee and serve customers, called out happy greetings to the group. They knew Paul and it was obvious they were happy to see him.

  Paul instructed the group to step forward and order breakfast and coffee; the tab was on Deliverance. Lydia, seeing that it could take a while and wanting to be out of the way, walked the perimeter of the room. She was utterly captivated by the décor and atmosphere of the café.

  Sleek, modern furniture filled the room. Teakwood tables and chairs, and bamboo couches made comfortable with large red cushions and pillows. Bright, typically Thai colors were infused all over the café with pictures and pillows, lamps and rugs. The lights were all encased in charming, woven baskets and cast a warm glow in the large space. The room sang with the sounds of pleasant chatter and silverware scraping against hand painted dishes.

  Lydia felt a lightness swell in her that she hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t until that moment that the weight of the trip and all they’d seen became clear to her: the days without showering, packing their belongings everywhere, working, sweating, traveling, talking—everything. She wished Charlotte were here to enjoy this lovely breakfast with her.

  When she finally ordered and found her place at Michelle and Luke’s table, she was able to talk with them for the first time about common likes and dislikes. Luke’s transparency the night before and her response to Michelle’s open friendship had turned a page for all of them. Lydia experienced friendship for what it should be: talking, sharing, and laughing. She knew Charlotte would call it fellowshipping.

  Luke’s impression of their principal had the girls in stitches. Lydia couldn’t remember the last time her sides hurt from laughing so hard. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been part of a conversation instead of a spectator.

  The food was even better than the conversation. Lydia had ordered the banana pancakes with caramel sauce and an espresso. She savored each bite as if she would never eat again and resisted the urge to lick her plate clean. Instead, she scraped every last bit of sauce and crumbs together on the side of her fork and licked it with relish.

  When a young smiling woman came by to refill their coffee, Lydia gladly accepted and sat back in her seat, contentedly sipping the hearty brew. She enjoyed watching the girls that ran the café, as they were a major factor of the pleasant ambiance, all very Thai, quick to smile and serve.

  She couldn’t help but notice how happy each of them were in their work. She was surprised that such a place in Thailand existed. In the restaurants and markets they’d frequented in their travels, she had encountered the famous “Thai Smile” repeatedly and been charmed by the people. However, there had not been this vibe. This confident manner or joy in those places. These women behaved as if this shop was their dream in life, and they were living every minute to the fullest. It was stunning to witness. The room literally vibrated with their delight.

  She commented to Luke and Michelle that she was happy Paul had brought them to the café. “After the intense few days we’ve had, it’s nice to sit back in a somewhat Western-type place and relax a bit, don’t you think?”

  Luke nodded his agreement, “Absolutely. It is intense to see so many new things and experience a completely different world. I think that’s why Deliverance opened this café, not because Western ways are better, but in most Western places, when you go into a coffee shop or restaurant, you’re looking for a meal, not a good time like the creeps around here. So it’s easy for the girls to transition to a place like this to see what that’s like. To offer something they carefully crafted and can be proud of.”

  Michelle, who had also had the banana pancakes, ran her finger through the caramel on her plate and licked it off. “And boy-oh-boy have they perfected their craft!”

  Lydia sat back with her coffee and listened to the buzz of conversation around her—astonished. Her eyes swept the pictures on the wall, and she marveled again at the artistic way the shop had been decorated. Her attention was pulled to a small photograph just above the coffee bar. Twenty or so women, all dressed in the uniform these ladies wore now, stood in front of the building, Paul in the middle, with their arms raised proudly. It was obviously an opening day picture.

  Lydia turned back to her friends, and slammed her coffee on the table. Some of it sloshed onto her hand and grabbed a napkin while she asked, “You mean these are Deliverance girls that work here?”

  “You didn’t know that?” Michelle asked, eyeing Lydia’s coffee mug.

  “No, I just assumed this was a break for the group. I didn’t know this was connected to Deliverance,” Lydia answered. She looked at the room and the workers in a whole new light and was overcome with shame and emba
rrassment.

  How could she have let them serve her and refill her coffee? She should be serving them after all they’d been through. She should give them her chair, her money, her home—anything! She had just spent the morning wondering how the girls from Walking Street were even surviving this morning. Now she wondered how these girls did.

  But these women were doing more than just surviving. They were absolutely thriving. She’d never in her life experienced the joy that was permeating the room that morning. How was it possible?

  She absentmindedly rubbed the napkin across her hand and it snagged on the bracelet. For the first time, she wondered, really wondered, if there was something to what Charlotte, Luke, Michelle, and even Kiet had been trying to tell her. She felt tightness in her chest that she’d never before experienced. Not pain or sorrow, but a swelling of something so real and right, it pressed upon her, desperate to overflow.

  As the group finished their breakfast and walked back to Deliverance, there was a renewal among them, a charge in the air. Lydia wondered if the rest of them had been as concerned about this day as she was. After what they witnessed the night before, were they all expecting to walk into a facility filled with the leftovers of the victims of trafficking? After all, wasn’t that what she’d been expecting? Girls, scraped clean of their dignity and spirit, washed up and dressed nice, sitting in desks and reciting Bible verses? Full bellies, but empty hearts and eyes?

  After all, how could anyone, especially a child, possibly function after the horror of what these girls had been through, let alone live a full life? But the women in the café were more than functioning. They had been jovial, poised, and full of life.