The Beloved Daughter

by Alana Terry

  “Do you think he was scared?” I tried to remember a time when I had seen my father afraid.

  Kwan shook his head. “Not scared. But Korean study Bibles are very scarce, and I guess your father didn’t want such a precious gift to be confiscated.”

  “So he brought the Bible here?”

  Kwan nodded. “Hyun-Ki loaned it to us until he could return again to Sanhe. But then when we learned of your father’s arrest, we had to admit there was little chance of his survival. If we knew anything at all about Hyun-Ki, it was that he would keep on preaching the gospel until he drew his last breath.” Kwan straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. So far I kept my promise to never divulge the truth behind Father’s fate. As far as Kwan and the Kims knew, Father died of torture in the underground detainment center. I wouldn’t bring myself to dishonor my father’s memory, especially amongst those who loved and respected him so deeply, by telling them what really happened to Father in those underground chambers of Camp 22.

  Kwan stared at the cluster of wildflowers by our feet. “Your father was an amazing man.”

  “I know.” I wondered what Kwan would say if I told him the full truth. I looked back over my shoulder to see how far we had meandered from the safe house.

  Kwan was quiet, and in unspoken agreement we both turned around to go back home. I couldn’t guess what Kwan was thinking about. I looked in the distance at the purple and yellow flowers that covered the hillside. I thought of my father who always adored God’s creation.

  “Do you see these mountains, righteous daughter?” Father once asked me, pointing to the Hasambong range that surrounded our home on nearly every side. “No matter how corrupt man becomes, he still can’t tarnish the beauty of God’s world. It is a constant reminder to us of our Creator’s faithfulness and power, even in spite of the world’s ever-increasing wickedness.”

  I couldn’t remember whether it was years, or months, or only weeks later that I learned my father died a shameful death after denying the Savior he once worshiped so passionately.

  “There’s more to the story, you know.” Kwan had been so quiet that the sound of his voice made me jump.

  “I’m sorry.” Kwan apologized and cracked a knuckle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” When I didn’t respond, Kwan said, “We were discussing your father’s Bible.”

  I didn’t feel like talking about my apostate father’s precious Scripture anymore, but I couldn’t think of any way to change the subject.

  “When we heard of his arrest, we guessed that your father would not be returning to us in Sanhe. So Mr. Kim and I both decided that the best way to honor your father’s legacy of boldness was to share his Bible with as many as would benefit from it. That single book has gone into North Korea five times and back since your father was taken prisoner. We send it to those who need it most, then when they find it too risky to hold on to, the Bible makes its way back to us in Sanhe.”

  I tried to think of something to say, but with the events surrounding Father’s shameful death so vivid in my memory, the only words that came to mind would have sounded trite and forced. Fortunately, Kwan needed no encouragement to keep up his monologue.

  “In all those times, it was never discovered,” Kwan remarked. I glanced up at the first traces of a golden sunset. “Most recently, Mr. Kim loaned it to Pastor Tong’s son here in Sanhe who was eager to understand the Word more fully. Pastor Tong’s family is Korean as well, although they did not come from the north. The morning after you arrived in Sanhe, Mr. Kim and I told the pastor’s son that you were here. We all agreed that no one has more claim to that great treasure as Song Hyun-Ki’s beautiful daughter.”

  Kwan looked away and scratched his chin, refusing to speak again for several minutes. I knew that Kwan found me attractive. Yet instead of basking in the attention of this kind and gentle man, I was thinking of a night several months before. It was two days after I agreed to remain at the safe house. So-Young was so excited about my decision to stay that she planned an entire feast to welcome me into her family. She braided my hair with ribbons and barrettes and let me wear one of her best dresses. She was so proud of the overall effect that she ran to a neighbor’s house to borrow her small mirror.

  “Look!” So-Young held the glass up to my face with a triumphant beam.

  I would never have recognized the face that stared back at me from the looking glass. My eyes were large and hollow. My cheeks were gaunt in spite of the several weeks that I spent satisfying myself with So-Young’s ample cooking. I looked at least a decade older than my age. My throat constricted when I saw the pale stranger gaping back at me.

  My effect at dinner that night, however, was significantly more positive. When I came to the table, Kwan spilled his tea. He grew bright red and made something topple to the floor two more times before we finished eating. Even from Mr. Kim, I imagined a fatherly pride where before I only knew sternness.

  As Kwan stared at me the entire dinner long, I wondered if So-Young feared that she had made me a little bit too presentable for my welcoming banquet. Ever since So-Young reacted so strangely when she saw Kwan talking to me in my room, I did my best to ignore Kwan and his awkward glances in my direction. So-Young never admitted her feelings for Kwan to me. Whenever I asked her about their relationship, So-Young found a way to avoid the question or change the subject. “Kwan?” she’d say as carelessly as she could. “He’s like an uncle. I grew up with him.”

  I wasn’t fooled. Because of So-Young’s obvious affection, I tried to avoid Kwan as much as possible during my first several months in Sanhe. In the safe house, I treated Kwan with nothing more than polite indifference. I didn’t want to give him – or So-Young – the impression that there was anything between us other than formal courtesy. But as the warm sunshine grew more and more inviting, as my lungs longed for fresh air and my spirit yearned for the beauty of the Sanhe hillside covered in wildflowers, I spent more and more time with Kwan in the evenings. Strolling beside the Sanhe forests with Kwan, conversation came easily and our time together felt so natural. I found myself avoiding So-Young altogether when my escort and I returned to the safe house.

  As the summer solstice came and went and the days once again began to grow colder with the promise of a crisp and early autumn, I couldn’t ignore Kwan’s ever-increasing attention toward me, even as I pretended to remain unaffected. I didn’t allow myself to blush or swoon under his frank approval, but at night when I tried to pray, that day’s conversations with Kwan ran through my mind instead. Sometimes I wished I hadn’t stayed in Sanhe at all. Instead of appreciating Kwan’s flattery and admiration, I feared I was stealing away the happiness that belonged to So-Young.

  I was not the only one in Sanhe who regretted the impact my presence was having on So-Young. I was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner one evening when Mr. Kim entered the safe house. After greeting his daughter, he looked at me and cleared his throat.

  “I will accompany you on a walk now,” Mr. Kim stated. Usually if Kwan was not home by sunset, which came earlier and earlier with each autumn day, I would forgo my evening stroll and content myself reading Father’s Bible or chatting with So-Young while we weaved baskets together by the window. I glanced at So-Young, who raised her eyebrows first at her father and then at me. She shrugged slightly and handed me her identity papers.

  “Get a coat,” Mr. Kim ordered. It wasn’t so cold that I needed an extra layer, but I did as I was told and followed Mr. Kim out of the safe house.

  “I am worried about my daughter,” Mr. Kim declared once we were outside.

  His pace was much quicker than Kwan’s, and I had to exert myself to keep from falling too far behind. “So-Young? Why are you worried about her?”

  “Frankly, I am concerned about the influence that your friendship is having on her.”

  I thought back over anything I might have said or done in the past few weeks to incur Mr. Kim’s mistrust.

  “I do not blame you for your past, but I bel
ieve I am correct in assuming that you were – forgive me for not putting this more delicately – but that you were misused while you were a prisoner?"

  I clenched my hands into fists and dug my fingernails into my palms. “That’s a correct assumption.” I gritted my teeth and stayed a pace or two behind Mr. Kim.

  “So-Young is still a child. She is still quite innocent and ignorant about many things.” I wanted to defend myself, but I waited while Mr. Kim expressed his concerns. “My daughter loves you dearly.” I bristled at the obvious disappointment I heard in his voice. For the first time I wondered if my invitation to stay at the safe house was more Kwan’s idea than Mr. Kim’s. Mr. Kim cleared his throat as we circled around to the trail that would lead us back behind the chicken coop. “Although I appreciate your work here, I need to tell you that it would not be a welcomed event if you tainted So-Young’s mind with colorful images or depictions of your more sullied past.”

  When I was certain that Mr. Kim was waiting for my response, I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice from wavering. “I would never hurt So-Young or compromise her innocence.” I swallowed several times to will away the lump in my throat. “I can assure you that I would never talk to her about this particular aspect of my history.” I paused to steady my voice, not daring to look at Mr. Kim. “So-Young is a treasure.” I spoke rapidly before my constricting throat betrayed my mortification. “I beg you to believe me when I tell you that I would never intentionally harm her in any way.”

  “It’s not the intentional harm that concerns me.” I was thankful when the safe house came into view, and I began to walk faster to reach its sheltering refuge. “It’s the unintentional,” Mr. Kim added under his breath.

  Awakening

  “Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.” Song of Songs 3:5

  “Sister Chung-Cha?” I hugged my sweater tight around me to ward off the crisp October wind. I glanced at Kwan out of the corner of my eye. His shoulders were hunched over, and he scratched his cheek while casting a furtive glance in my direction. “Can I ask you a delicate question?”

  “Of course.” I tried to sound indifferent. I didn’t realize I was speeding up until I looked back and saw Kwan several paces behind me, cracking his knuckles.

  Kwan hurried to catch up. “It’s about So-Young.”

  “So-Young?” I repeated.

  “Has she …” Kwan cleared his throat. “Has she talked to you about me?”

  I stopped on the trail, hoping Kwan didn’t see me blush. “I know that she considers you a dear friend.”

  “But has she … spoken to you about her feelings? Romantic feelings?” Neither of us looked at the other. I spent the past several months trying to stifle my admiration for Kwan. So-Young loved him, even if she wouldn’t admit that to me, and I wasn’t about to come between her and the happiness she deserved.

  “She hasn’t mentioned anything specifically, but I know that she cares for you, even more than she wants to confess.” I would rejoice to see So-Young happily betrothed, and there was no better match for her than Kwan. So why did my shoulders feel so heavy? “So-Young is a wonderful girl,” I remarked, playing with a strand of hair so I didn’t have to look at Kwan in the eye. “She will make a wonderful bride.”

  Kwan dug a hole in the dirt with the toe of his shoe. “I don’t doubt that.” After a long pause he added, “But not for me.”

  “What do you mean?” I glanced up for the first time since our conversation started. Kwan grabbed his finger but stopped before making the joint crack.

  “I know that you and So-Young are dear friends. Even closer than sisters.” I nodded, wondering if I should take off my sweater. Why had it felt so cold when we first started our walk? “That’s why I have been so hesitant to talk with you.” Kwan put his hand against a tree branch. I didn’t realize until then that we both had stopped walking. “You see, Sister Chung-Cha …” Kwan reached out and touched my trembling hand with his. “Although there has never been a spoken agreement between So-Young and me, I feel that I owe her an apology.”

  “An apology for what?” I didn’t turn away as Kwan leaned his face down toward mine.

  “An apology for falling in love with her best friend, instead of her.”

  Attendant

  “The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete.” John 3:29

  Kwan was already determined not to do anything in secret. The night of his confession, Kwan refused to talk to me again until he spoke with Mr. Kim about our relationship. I imagined Mr. Kim thought poorly enough of me and my tarnished past that he would forbid Kwan from courting me. Nevertheless, Kwan was adamant that he could persuade his employer and benefactor to allow our relationship to develop.

  That evening when Mr. Kim came home, he and Kwan went outside to prepare the chicken coop for winter. As the two men headed outdoors, Kwan glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. I looked at the floor, flushing even more deeply when I realized that So-Young was watching us both.

  I hadn’t seen my friend all day. She left early that morning to help a young mother care for her newborn son. So-Young sat in a small chair weaving. Sighing, I picked up the basket I started a few days earlier and lowered myself in the chair next to So-Young.

  “Did you have a pleasant day?” she asked. My heart was too heavy for small talk, and my mind was too consumed with thoughts about the future. I barely heard her question. So-Young looked at me over her weaving and asked, “Are you feeling sick?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. I held my basket in my lap, but my hands remained idle. Usually I was relieved to have So-Young to talk to after a long and stressful day. Our conversations still make up some of my fondest memories from my time in Sanhe. There was only one subject So-Young and I never discussed together honestly.

  “Did Kwan speak with you?” So-Young’s fingers worked twice as fast as usual.

  I wanted to hide my face. “How did you know?”

  So-Young never put down her weaving, even as she gazed intently at me. “It was only a matter of time.”

  “What do you mean?” Was So-Young outside when Kwan and I were talking? Did she overhear our conversation?

  “You and I are so close. We don’t need to keep secrets any longer.” So-Young’s voice quivered, but only once. “I have not been honest with you about my feelings for Kwan because I didn’t want your care for me to come in the way of your own happiness.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. I was doing the same thing for you. I knew you loved him. You never told me, but I knew it anyway.” So-Young looked out the window at the golden sunset. “I was afraid that Kwan might be developing feelings for me, so I did as much as I could to keep from encouraging him. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was to hurt you.” Once again, I wondered why I didn’t leave the safe house when Mrs. Cho offered me passage to her orphanage in South Korea.

  “Kwan has never seen me as anything more than a child.” So-Young smiled sadly at me over her weaving and sighed. “From the very beginning, I knew Kwan would love you.”

  “But how?”

  So-Young shrugged. “Because I know Kwan as well as I know myself. When I met you, I knew that if you stayed here with us he would soon grow to adore you. Just as I have.” It was So-Young’s gentleness that made my heart ache, even more so than if she reacted in jealousy or anger.

  My throat tightened. “I love you too much.” I could never explain to So-Young everything I was feeling. “You deserve this joy. I could never take it from you.” In my soul, I begged God to change Kwan’s heart, to make him fall in love with So-Young instead of me.

  So-Young took a deep breath. “Even if you were to walk out of the safe house tonight, even if you were to leave us and not return, Kwan would never look at me the way he looks at you.” />
  I realized how unworthy I was of So-Young’s friendship. “What do you think I should do?”

  So-Young stopped her weaving and studied me. “Do you love Kwan?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know. All this time, I imagined I was keeping myself out of the way so that you …” I threw up my hands in confusion. I remembered Shin, the prison guard who helped me escape to China. Why did God bring me to Sanhe and let me ruin So-Young’s happiness?

  “You have a lot to think about.” I wondered how So-Young, who was five years younger than I, could be so much wiser than I would ever hope to be.

  “You’re right.”

  “Kwan is a patient man,” So-Young continued. “He’ll wait until you’re ready.”

  I realized with both envy and regret that So-Young would make a far more suitable wife for Kwan than I ever could.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep?” So-Young suggested. “Maybe you’ll find your answers in the morning.”

  So-Young focused once more on her weaving. I crept into our room. When So-Young came to bed hours later, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. Instead I stayed awake listening to So-Young stifling her sobs as she buried her head in her pillow.

  Strangers

  “I am a stranger to my brothers, an alien to my own mother’s sons.” Psalm 69:8

  Kwan and I were married the following summer. It was a quiet ceremony. So-Young helped me dress in a borrowed bridal jacket and skirt. As she tied the traditional knot around my waist, So-Young smiled.

  “You are a beautiful bride.” Over the past year, So-Young rejoiced with me as my love for Kwan blossomed. Today she played the role of the gracious and joyful bridal attendant, but in my heart I wondered how So-Young felt to see me in formal Korean wedding attire, preparing to marry the man she secretly loved for so many years.