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

by B. D. Riehl

  Charlotte was first to speak. “Is that just the culture?”

  Megan flinched slightly. “Could be. Cambodians are very kind people. But those two just found out their daughter, who ran away years ago, is dead and now they have two more mouths to feed. The grandmother made it sound like there were other children in their home as well. Maybe their son and his kids?”

  The host mom, Cam, spoke up. “Maybe it rubbed us all wrong because we love them so much.” Her voice broke, and her husband wrapped his arm around her.

  “I think,” he said, “that we should all pray over this situation.” They linked hands, a circle of believers brought together through two precious souls. They prayed for God’s providence and protection over the children who had so captured their hearts. And when they finished praying, there was nothing more to do. Each went their own heartbroken way.

  Charlotte stopped Megan and asked if she could go home. “I think at this point it would be too difficult to catch up with the rest of the team.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t think I will be of much help here.”

  Megan nodded empathetically. “I understand, Charlotte. I really do.”

  Charlotte wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I need to say, though, that this has been the most incredible experience. Thank you for your friendship and wonderful advice. You’ll never know how much you’ve opened my eyes.”

  Megan shrugged. “I’m just thankful God let me be a part of whatever He is doing here with you.”

  The women embraced.

  After a fitful night of sleep, Charlotte was able to get messages to Lydia and to Sam. Deliverance graciously found a flight out of Cambodia that afternoon. She held it together while she said good-bye to those she’d grown close with, especially Megan. She held tears back as she checked in at the airport, numbly went through the motions through security, loaded her bags in the overhead bin on the small plane, and settled into her seat. Once the plane took off and circled around Phnom Penh, she pressed her face against the window, eyes hungrily scanning the countryside, unwilling to tear away from that last bit of connection to Noah.

  When all too quickly the white clouds enveloped the plane, she buried her face in her hands and wept.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Everyone that worked the underbelly of Walking Street knew there were lackeys following the young girls when they left the bar. How the man had delivered her to Dugan and Moree so effortlessly baffled Suchin. How they had escaped Pattaya with her dumbfounded Suchin. It should not have been possible.

  Even more astonishing to Suchin was the tender way they treated her. Dugan never touched her. Not once. Moree gently held her hand as they parked the truck at an airport and boarded a small plane to Chiang Mai. There, Moree had explained, they could keep her safe while she healed and learned about her new life.

  New life.

  The phrase frightened Suchin a little.

  She asked about Nataya, desperate to see her friend that had sent for her. Suchin wrung her hands in tight circles of worry when Moree explained that Nataya would not be where they were headed.

  “She went to a facility that better fit her needs,” was all that Moree would say.

  Suchin felt panic swell in her chest. Could she really trust them? Were they possibly headed to a new brothel? Would they put her to work as well? Would the men be meaner? Rougher?

  She was so tired she could only worry her bottom lip as they bought tickets and boarded the plane. Dugan seemed nervous until the plane jetted down the runway and lifted into the air. Then he exhaled loudly and smiled at Moree, patting her hand across the aisle before he winked kindly at Suchin.

  Suchin smiled back nervously. The violent shaking of the plane and the deafening roar of the engines terrified her. She’d never been on a plane. She didn’t even know anyone who had been on one, other than the men who bought her for entertainment. And they certainly hadn’t wanted to talk about that with her. The idea that she was suspended in the air almost made her wish she could go back.

  Almost.

  Dugan leaned his head back against his seat and closed his eyes, lips moving silently.

  Moree relaxed as well and explained to Suchin what to expect over the next few days. “We’ll get you settled in and let you rest. Then you’ll meet the other girls, learn to make jewelry, and fall into a new routine.”

  Suchin nodded, feeling sick to her stomach on the bumpy plane. Moree must have noticed and just in time grabbed a small white paper bag from the seat pocket in front of her. She held it out to Suchin and gently stroked her hair while she was sick into the bag.

  Suchin was too tired to be embarrassed. Her sick stomach distracted her from the fear she’d just felt; suddenly she was very overwhelmed.

  Much like the journey through the back alleys of Pattaya, the journey from the plane to where Moree called “home” was foggy, and Suchin wasn’t conscious for most of it. When the plane landed, they gathered their belongings, boarded a taxi, and drove a short distance to a large house. Suchin had never seen anything so clean and homey, but could barely take it in. A kind woman met them at the door and introduced herself as the Den Mother. Suchin could only nod; she had known Aunties that acted kind only to be the most conniving of all in the red light district. Moree promised to be back in the morning and Suchin gave a small wave as she was led to a dark room and helped into bed. She was asleep before the woman shut the door softly behind her.

  ***

  She awoke in a small room.

  Suchin couldn’t remember a time she’d ever been alone in a room. It didn’t appear that such would always be the case; she lay on the bottom portion of a bunk bed and counted three more bunks in the narrow space. Brightly colored quilts and matching pillows adorned each bed.

  On Walking Street, her room was in the back with no windows and only one barred door. The girls slept in muddled masses on the floor during the day and worked at night.

  In this room, there was a small window high in the corner, and the sun shone through in a way that reminded Suchin of her life before Pattaya in the village. How bright the sun had been there as it streamed through foliage in shimmering beams to warm the dirt paths she had known so well. Only in her dreams had she remembered it, and now she wondered if the warm light was really there at all.

  She pushed back the covers and walked on trembling legs to the small table beneath the window. Carefully, she climbed onto the table to feel the sun on her face. Her soul and flesh responded. Never before had she felt so invigorated.

  There was a soft knock on the door, and Suchin scrambled to get down, but her legs were so weak, she slipped and fell as the door opened. Moree and the woman that greeted them the night before rushed in the room to help Suchin get back to her bed.

  “I’m so-sorry,” she stammered. “I ju-just wanted to feel the sun. I—”

  Moree brushed the hair back from Suchin’s face and ducked her head to catch Suchin’s eyes. “Suchin, you are fine. You look at that sun anytime you want to. Just be careful; it might take a few days to get strong again; you’ve taken quite a beating.”

  Suchin averted her eyes.

  The woman with Moree, a small Thai woman with kind eyes and a slightly humped back, nodded at the look on Suchin’s face. “It’s a common thing. You need rest. This new life begins with that. It also begins with good food. Do you think if we help you, you could walk a little?”

  She nodded and the three women walked slowly, arm in arm, out the door and into a narrow hallway. Suchin took in the bright colors of paint on the walls. Yellow and sky blue. Doors lined the hall on either side and Suchin saw posters with drawings of the sun and flowers and happy scenes painted on them. There were words, too, but she couldn’t read them. The cheery atmosphere was so foreign; she could scarcely take it in.

  The women turned Suchin toward a large room with half a dozen round tables arranged close together. Her stomach cramped at the intoxicating aroma of well-cooked food. Not street food, but r
eal food. She thought of her mother and the night she agreed to sell Suchin.

  A small plate of sticky rice with red chicken curry and a bowl of fruit were placed before her.

  “Go slow, Suchin. Your stomach might protest a little.” Moree smiled at her the way Suchin’s mother used to on good days.

  While Suchin savored every bite, she listened as the women talked. The older Thai woman with Moree was Pim, a den mother with Deliverance, the organization that had rescued her.

  Rescue. She couldn’t comprehend that word.

  As Pim explained that Suchin would be allowed to walk outdoors and breath in the fresh air, go to school, sleep in a bed, learn a craft and play, Suchin’s smile grew wider.

  Rescue.

  She couldn’t wait to get started.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lydia, Michelle, and Luke stepped out of the Deliverance dorms, ready to embrace the culture of Pattaya, away from Walking Street, away from Deliverance, just teenagers in a new country ready to explore.…

  They had spent a long and wonderful day with the rescued girls of Deliverance. Lydia’s fear of sullen empty shells was washed completely away. Just as she’d experienced at the café, the theme of the day was joy.

  Pure, simple joy.

  It was beautiful to watch. And contagious.

  The girls showed the team how they made jewelry to make money for the staff. Paul explained that the girls were paid a steady wage for their work in the jewelry shop, and that the money earned from the jewelry was poured back into the organization. All supplies were provided as well as lodging, food, clothes, education; they could train for any vocation that interested them. Paul boasted that one of their girls had just begun work as a teacher at a village school.

  Lydia was amazed by the intricate work and trendy designs of the necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. She remembered to take pictures for Zanna, and was already arranging the pieces on the front counter at the shop. They would sell fast at Got Your Back, especially if the clientele knew that these girls made them. Lydia wondered whom she would talk to about having a steady supply for the store.

  The group then peeked in on an English class and listened as the girls recited the poem on the Statue of Liberty as a special treat for them.

  “Give me your tired, your poor,

  Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

  The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

  Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

  I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

  Lydia grinned and clapped with the rest when they finished. Their sweet Thai voices speaking such words. Who better to speak of huddled masses yearning to breathe free?

  The rest of the afternoon, the women helped to paint the outside of the building. The men were assigned to dig trenches for a new plumbing system. After they scraped the old paint to prepare for the new, Lydia told Michelle about the beaded bracelet.

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” Michele dipped her brush in the bucket of blue paint and tapped it on the side. She furrowed her brows and spoke in a gruff imitation of Kiet’s tenor voice while she haphazardly slapped paint on the wall. “‘Yeah, Lydia, here’s the deal…you’re just not allowed to doubt. Nope. Just believe. And here’s a pretty bracelet to seal the deal. Easy-peasy, man!” She winked at Lydia. “Of course jewelry was the way. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first!”

  Lydia elbowed her good-naturedly. “Come on, you know that’s not why it worked—”

  “Wait,” Michelle set down her brush and grabbed Lydia’s shoulders. “It’s working? You believe?”

  Lydia shrugged and averted her eyes. “I don’t know, Michelle. I think it’s being around all of you for too long. Not enough sleep or food or—” She lifted her arm and sniffed, then made a face, “—showers. The stuff you guys believe is starting to make sense a little. Or a lot. And today…”

  Lydia watched Michelle slosh the blue paint over the scraped bare boards, new and bright. “I mean, these girls—” she nodded her head toward the building, “these girls shouldn’t have this much joy, right? I mean, seriously, who survives that? Who has any hope of life, real life, after what they’ve been through? It doesn’t make any sense. Unless they are all guinea pigs for some hyped-up antidepressant which, of course, they’re not, because Paul told us they’re not on any; they're the real deal.”

  Lydia grew silent for a moment, slowly running the brush up and down, transforming the stripped, worn-out boards to a new bright blue. Paul had made it very clear that they didn’t rely on medication to get the girls through their healing, but instead on the word of God, counseling, and hard work.

  “It’s like they’ve been painted over. But it’s not just a touch-up job. The battered, filthy-warped stuff has been stripped away and covered with new and solid and bright life.”

  When Michelle didn’t answer, Lydia snuck a look at her. Her friend stood there, paint brush in hand, dripping blue all over her shoes, her eyes misted over, but shining.

  “Oh, Lydia, you see it, don’t you? You see the fire and believe in the Creator of that fire now.”

  Lydia felt a lump form in her throat. “How can I continue to stare at the darkness? His light is so bright it cancels out the darkness. It brightens everything. How can I not want to surrender to the Creator of something like that? Of Someone who can take such desperately hopeless people and make them more than whole—He made them that!” Lydia turned back to the wall, painting solid blue streaks.

  Michelle slammed her arms around Lydia and knocked her to the ground in a bear hug. They giggled, new sisters in Christ. Lydia couldn’t believe the change in her heart. It was hard to take in, given the state of her heart just a few weeks ago. But she didn’t want to turn back. She never wanted to experience that selfish, desperate darkness again.

  Lydia shoved Michelle off of her, coughed on laughter and paint fumes and rose to her feet. They painted on in contented silence until Lydia turned to her. “I’ve always heard about people ‘praying a prayer’ and having a moment they knew they were believers. It’s not like that for me. It was a long process, and I haven’t really prayed a prayer. Is it possible it’s not real?”

  “Not possible.” Michelle emphatically shook her head. “A prayer of acknowledgement and submission is great, Lydia, but there is no magic prayer to become a believer. He knows your heart, and it sounds to me like you are now seeking His. It’s a lifelong process, and now you know Who to follow in it.” She shrugged and dunked her brush in the paint again. “Let Him lead you, and don’t worry about the right formula.”

  When they were finished working, the team was given a rare opportunity to shower—their first in days. The motel they would stay in that night didn’t have private showers, and Paul had discouraged them from using the public ones at that establishment. Lydia knew that soon their dorm rooms would be full of girls tasting freedom for the first time.

  For now, the rescued girls were at a nearby clinic having physicals and check-ups done to be sure they didn’t need more serious medical attention. Paul had graciously encouraged the team from Idaho to shower at the dorms before they packed their belongings and left for the motel.

  Lydia relished the feel of water, even lukewarm water, on her tired, dirty skin. It amazed her that everything now reminded her of her new life in Christ. Even this shower symbolized the washing away of her sin and how wonderful it felt to be cleansed of it.

  As she dried off, she noticed flecks of blue paint remained on her arms and on the bracelet Kiet had given her. She smiled. Oh, how she hoped the reminder of her new life would always cause her such joy and peace.

  In their shared room, Lydia and Michelle once again helped each other twist their wet hair into manageable braids and met an equally fresh Luke in the lobby. The team had been given the evening to explore Pattaya. They were told safe places to go and instructed to stay in groups of three or more and to enjoy the lighter sides of Thailand.

  �
�Just head to the motel before it gets too late,” Paul had instructed. The sun set early in Thailand, so they would have to pay close attention to the time. The teens tucked their bags behind the desk in the lobby to pick up later and walked through the double doors.

  Luke held the doors open for the girls, and as they stepped into the dusky evening, a voice called out to them. Lydia’s heart swelled when Kiet, dressed in khaki shorts and a light green polo shirt rushed to catch up with them.

  “Great timing, guys.” He and Luke exchanged a short but complicated handshake. “I was hoping to catch you before you left. Where are you headed to?”

  Luke spoke for them, “Just seeing what there is to see. We thought we’d try the café again and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

  Kiet shook his head. “The café is only open for breakfast and lunch. But…” He flashed them his easy smile. “I know just where to take you, if you guys don’t mind a tag-a-long.” He looked into Lydia’s eyes.

  Suddenly shy, she fingered the bracelet on her wrist and rubbed her right foot against her left calf, self-conscious in her light flower skirt and white cotton top, thankful that her mom had thought to pack them for her. It was the first time she’d seen Kiet that she wasn’t in shorts and a Deliverance T-shirt. By the look on his face, he liked what he saw.

  Michelle looked between Kiet and Lydia with an obnoxious grin. “Nah, I don’t think we mind one bit, Kiet.”

  He clapped his hands once and rubbed them together. “All righty then! Who’s up for fried bugs?”

  Chapter Thirty

  The afternoon market was vastly different from Walking Street and not nearly as busy, more like an outdoor mall. There was a store of cheap knock-off iPhones and other electronic gadgets, booths full of designer purses and shoes, all slightly different from the real thing but close enough that Lydia’s fashionista heart fluttered a bit. She wanted to stop and look at everything, but the men were on a mission for food.