“It’s all right,” he soothed. “God understands that we hurt real bad sometimes and we scream at the windshield in the car.”
The observation elicited a sad chuckle. “You should have heard me. I’m so ashamed of how I freaked out.”
She pictured her brother, now thirty-one years old, tall and decent-looking in his own athletic way. Probably sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen of his Boston condo, feet perched on the counter as he comforted his little “R.M.”
The conversation drifted over to Adrian and Rachel Marie began to pour out her angst about her boyfriend’s spiritual apathy. “I haven’t even met him yet,” Bucky teased. “On Facebook you guys look great together; I’m sometimes afraid Lisa’s got a little crush on him, so thanks a whole lot for that. But what’s the trouble? So you’re saying he’s not much of a Christian?”
“Well, the odd thing is this. I’m not even sure.” She could tell she was blushing. “When we talk about it, which isn’t often, I can’t pin him down. So I don’t exactly know what he believes. Which I’m sure sounds . . . just crazy.”
“Not really. I think a lot of couples are like that. It’s amazing how we can avoid the land mines we know are out there.” He stifled a yawn. “So what are you telling me? On a day-to-day basis, what does that mean between you?”
May as well get it all out there. “Well, it’s like this. I’m trying to live it, and he’s watching it on a big-screen TV. And that’s at best. Like I sit and listen to Pastor Mike give one of his great sermons, and I’m completely on fire with it. He says, ‘Go out and do this and that and the other’ . . . and I’m just so moved, so ready to do it all. Which is how I think you guys are too. But Adrian, if he’s even there with me, which isn’t often, basically covers up a yawn and goes, ‘Okay, whatever. What’s for lunch?’ We have supper, and, yeah, he’ll hold my hand while I say the blessing, but he’d never do it. I doubt if he’s ever gotten past Noah and the flood in trying to read the Bible.”
“So it’s nothing sinister–just that your spiritual thermostat’s set higher than his.”
“I guess. Way higher, I’m afraid.” A gust of wind swept along the surf and she shivered despite the June warmth. “Is that dangerous? Would marriage to him be a mistake? Because see, that’s what Mom deals with all the time. Dad’s awesome and he treats her well. Faithful for thirty-five years. But zero interest in God.”
“Yeah.” Her brother was quiet for a moment, and then burst out. “Well, I just have to say this. I wouldn’t settle for what Mom has. No offense. And you’re right about Dad being amazing. But ever since the three of us were converted, she’s had to basically navigate the most important aspect of her own life without any help.”
“Yeah.”
“Will you be mad if I lay something else on you?”
“No. ‘Course not.”
“Well, I’ll say this as nice as I can. But see, Mom gave her heart to Christ after already being married. I was like twelve, and you came along with it a bit later. So the Bible hits her with, I think it’s someplace in First Corinthians, pretty clear instruction that when one mate chooses a commitment to the Lord after having already gotten married, they’re supposed to hang in there with their unbelieving spouse. That’s different from walking over to the justice of the peace, eyes wide open, and getting married to someone who doesn’t accept the gospel message. And only you know if that’s your current condition with Adrian.”
Rachel Marie was glum. “Yeah. And, you know, I get disappointed in myself that I’ve put this off. He’s this gorgeous guy, and we do enjoy some very tingly chemistry. I mean, I’m still . . . holding the line, if you know what I mean.”
“Um . . . I think I get your drift.” She could tell Bucky was grinning.
“But he takes me out and he’s thoughtful–most of the time, at least, ‘cause it comes and goes–and he’s endlessly fascinating to talk to. There’s a lot of good in him. But for me, Jesus is hugely important and I just keep pushing away the fact that we do have this void.” She felt like she might cry right there on the phone with her brother, and tried to recover her poise. “I guess I’m just scared. I just got pink-slipped, my best friend in college dies from cancer, I’m living a thousand miles away from Mommy and Daddy, and trying to pay rent and make it on my own at the age of twenty-three, and I just am too scared to sit down with Adrian and have the conversation.”
“Wow,” he murmured. Rachel Marie could tell her forlorn outburst had gotten to Bucky. “I’m really sorry, R.M.”
“I’ll be fine,” she managed. “It’s just a whole lot all at once.”
“Yeah.” There was a moment of quiet between them. “I just thought of one more thing.”
“Sure.”
“I know you were just a kid back when, but you and Mom were right there watching me try to push a rock uphill dating girls who weren’t Christians. Remember?”
“Uh huh.” There had been a stunning blonde named Deirdre. She recalled being a childhood spectator, and seeing the desperation on her big brother’s face as he stubbornly undertook a futile love-struck chase that crashed and burned. If God’s kingdom was to be the foundation, then some romantic mansions simply couldn’t be built and sustained.
“I’m not saying you and Adrian can’t make this thing work. And you’re the only one who can really know if he’s got enough allegiance to God and all. Right now it sounds like he’s not much past zero, but people can always surprise us. So that’s totally your call. And you know Mom and I’ll support you no matter which way it goes.”
“Sure.” She felt a lump of emotion. “That’s so awesome. Thanks, Bucky.”
“All right, kid.”
“Are Lisa and Tillie both okay?”
“Uh huh. Silly kid talks about Auntie Rachel all the time, you know. She crawled in bed just when you called. Guess I’ll go check on her.”
“Tell them both hi.” Rachel Marie felt a burden lift from her shoulders. “I really feel a lot better talking to you.”
“I’m glad.” His voice softened. “Drive safely going home. And take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“I’ll be thinking of you while you’re at the funeral.”
A single tear pooled in her eye. “Thanks, Bucky.”
* * *
She dressed carefully for the memorial service Saturday night, wanting in an indefinable way to be her very best. Maybe it was a way of making up for what she still felt were the aching gaps in her connection to Jisoo during the ebbing days of her life. Her dress was a tasteful black frock, mid-calf, with muted silver sequins. She applied just enough makeup to take away the dark circles under her eyes, and carefully pinned her brunette hair up and away from her neck, using tight French braids. She gazed soberly at the starkly beautiful reflection facing her in the mirror, then leaned against the sink and prayed for the soul of her departed sister.
This night will be agony for me, Jesus. You know it. Please be with us all. Comfort us. Be with Jisoo’s parents and her church family as they grieve and hope together.
“You look real good, babe,” Adrian murmured comfortingly during the short walk to the Upper Room sanctuary.
“Thanks.” His hand was cool and comforting, with the metal of his class ring pressing into her palm. She squeezed gratefully and looked up at him. “I couldn’t do this if you weren’t here, you know.”
“It’s okay.” The sanctuary doors were open, and two Korean women stood there, their faces bathed in the muted candlelight. “Welcome,” they said in unison, brightening as they recognized Rachel Marie. “Thank you for coming.”
The couple managed to catch the glance of an older couple, and Rachel Marie recognized Jisoo’s parents from her friend’s Facebook page. Jisoo’s younger brother appeared to be around eighteen, shaggy-haired and sadly distracted. The mother gave Rachel Marie a wave and grateful nod.
The service was a poignant celebration with some of Jisoo’s favorite praise songs. A college student perform
ed a magnificent cello solo, its mournful tones rich and elegantly swelling through the sanctuary. The pastor spoke mostly in English, but strayed into the congregation’s native language for brief anecdotes, which brought a ripple of laughter.
“Even though cut short, our beloved Jisoo did live a life that was full,” he testified, his friendly gaze moving across the gathered church worshipers. “Her love for God was so evident each day. She had friends here, of course, and also outside. We are thankful for her college roommate, Rachel Marie, who blesses us by coming tonight.”
Rachel Marie blinked hard at the gracious words. “Hang in there, sweets.” Adrian’s arm tightened around her.
There was a brief reception afterwards, and Rachel Marie stood on the sidelines, hand in hand with Adrian. Her throat tightened as the older man approached them both. “You are Rachel Marie, correct?”
“Uh huh.”
“She mention you many times. My wife and I see photos that Jisoo send to us. You are in college together, and now I remember.”
Jisoo’s mother eased up next to her husband. “So sorry,” she intoned, her voice soft and sad.
“It was a beautiful service,” Rachel Marie told them. “Several times Jisoo and I came to church together here at Upper Room Fellowship.”
“Yes. Jisoo’s church love her very much. And Jisoo so happy here. In email all the time. ‘URF we do this.’ ‘URF, we have Christmas party and give toys to all neighborhood children. We feed many people at food bank.’ My wife and I say: ‘This URF is good home for Jisoo.’ We thank God many times. So they offer to have memorial and we say goodbye to her.”
He said the last words evenly, not immediately sensing the import of what it all meant. All at once the idea of goodbye hit him and his reserve cracked. “I don’t know . . .” he whispered. “How to say goodbye to child. How this happen, I don’t know. God say is for best. All things work together in good way. I don’t know. But we trust him every day.”
Rachel Marie stared at him, her eyes filled with tragic wonder. “So do I,” she choked. “But I sure don’t understand all this.” She let go of Adrian’s hand and drew the older man’s father into an embrace. “I’m just so sorry.”
His shoulders were heaving but he murmured through his tears: “You are kind to come and be with us. Jisoo very lucky that good friend like you, Rachel, is in her life. Thank you so much.”
“Well, it will be so wonderful when we’re all together again in God’s kingdom. I know your whole family believes in the resurrection, and I sure do too.” In the shadows next to her, Adrian shifted uncomfortably.
She was thankful, when it was over, to give her man the lead and allow Adrian to take charge. Clutching his hand as they greeted fellow believers, she followed him to his car and sank gratefully into the passenger seat.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be all right.”
Adrian started up the engine and pulled out onto Temple City’s main boulevard. “Nice service, huh?”
“Their pastor is really excellent. I like him.”
“You want to stop somewhere and get coffee? Ice cream? Something to take our minds off things?”
“Huh uh.” She leaned toward him and traced a hand across his cheek. “You’re sweet, but I’m okay. Let’s just go home.”
“Why don’t you come over with me for just a bit? Maybe some TV or a snack.”
At the moment, the idea of curling up on the couch in Adrian’s arms sounded like a heavenly dream. “Perfect,” she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder as he drove.
His house was in a secluded corner of the hills above Glendale, astutely purchased at the very beginning of the So Cal real estate bubble. He thumbed a remote and the garage door eased open, beckoning its quiet refuge to the young couple. Adrian began to climb out, but she remained ensconced in the expensive leather seat.
“You coming?” He tried to inject a sweet bit of levity into the gloom. “Need for me to carry you?”
“No, I’m just taking it easy.” She waited until he came around to her side and opened the door. “Thank you, sweetie.”
He pulled his necktie free, draping it on a nearby doorknob, and motioned her into the tastefully decorated family room. “Let me find us something cold.”
“Okay.”
She sank into a recliner, kicking her shoes off and idly gazing around the room. She hadn’t been over to his place since spring break, and there were new paintings on the wall next to the staircase. Everything’s nice here, she thought drowsily.
“I can just throw a blanket over you,” he teased, coming into the room with two glasses and a small silver tray with some gourmet crackers.
“Mmm. My favorite,” she sighed gratefully as she nibbled on one. “That hits the spot.”
“Yeah.” He sat across from her on an overstuffed couch with an elegant knitted quilt draped over the back. “You know, there’s room over here next to your lonely old boyfriend.”
“I know.” She managed a grin as she took another cracker. “Let me eat these first.”
They chatted about his work and mundane matters. A fragmentary thought nudged through about the unfinished business hovering between them, but she pushed it away. At this fragile moment, with Adrian at his tender best, launching into a Bible study about Christian commitment seemed ill-advised. It’s just too much for tonight. Rachel Marie finished her apple juice and set it down, refreshed.
“Better?”
“Yeah. Lots better.” She climbed out of the chair and padded over in her stocking feet. “Scoot over just a teeny bit then.”
She curled into his arms, putting her head against his chest. “Boy, I couldn’t have faced tonight without you, mister.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” His lips were warm as they lingered on hers. She could feel a nice tingle run down her spine as his fingers traced a wordless pattern of affection along her cheekbone and around to the back of her neck.
“Mmmm,” she whispered, enjoying the quiet interlude of romance. “More, please.”
Adrian kissed her again, his dark blue eyes serious and not quite closed. “We could do this for about the next forty hours,” he murmured, exploring her lips with his own.
Her mind darted back to the first few weeks of dating. There had been an evening, after a concert at Staples Center and a long walk in the hills near his home, where the kisses approached a point of spiritual danger. It had been hard to pull free and explain, haltingly, that she wanted to take things slowly. That she could never step across the moral lines her Lord had placed to keep her in her way. He took defeat with good-natured male humor, and generally stopped their amorous moments himself with a gracious joke about St. Peter watching from above.
But now, with her soul shredded over the loss of her friend, it felt all right to be held and cared for. Rachel Marie reached up with both hands and pulled him closer, twisting herself to feel more of his warmth running along her entire body. The kisses lingered and slowly grew more urgent.
Even benumbed by the funeral and the emptiness of her loss, she could sense a trace of spiritual angst in the room. But the confusion of losing her teaching position, and then the abrupt tragedy in Monrovia, and her screaming rant on the freeway . . . all piled into an inexorable female desire to be held and loved and completed.
His voice husky with desire, Adrian pulled free. “Sweetie, do you . . . want to go upstairs? Or what? What are we doing?”
The veiled invitation hung in the romantic firelight warming the room. With all of her being, she wanted to say yes. To give in to the sense that this world, and the relationships it offered and the good man who had stepped into her life at this most vulnerable moment were the things of reality. She had prayed for Jisoo–and Jisoo was gone. God had said no to her and to that beautiful, grieving, bereft couple from Seoul. And to the Upper Room family. A thousand prayers hadn’t mattered. The armadas of heaven were obviously occupied with other priorities.
But
Adrian, this near-perfect and gentle man, was here at this moment, with a sincere and goodhearted offer of love. Was it really wrong to do what every atom in her body cried out to do? At this moment, the invisibility and the absence of her God loomed as she looked into Adrian’s anxious face.
A long minute ticked by as she weighed it all and then drew away. “Baby, I would love to just have you right this moment,” she confessed. “I’m dying here. Trust me. But I can’t.”
There was a hesitation between them, a digesting of the confusion. “Okay,” he muttered, reacting strangely. “You want to . . . and everything you’re doing says you want to. And goodness knows I’ve wanted to since about half an hour after we first met.” His face darkened. “So what are you telling me when you say ‘I can’t’? Because I really think we’ve waited long enough.”
She was still leaning against him and pulled free, reaching down and taking his hand in both of hers. “I still want to be, you know, obedient.”
“Obedient to what?” He dropped her hand and twisted away. “Babe, you’ve got to admit this isn’t the greatest of nights for you to, I don’t know, go and sign up for another term as . . . God’s soldier. I mean, come on!”
“What do you mean?”
Adrian fished in his back pocket and found the rumpled program from the memorial service. “‘Jisoo Kim,’” he intoned. “‘Born April 7, 1988. Died . . .’ last week! Sweetie, you’ve got everything built up on this idea that God in heaven has these rules of the road, and if you follow them real good, then he’ll do something nice for you. Well, look around! What is it? Where is it? Where’s this wonderful trade-off that we get–that you get–for all your good-girl celibacy?”
“What? You don’t think he’s there anymore?”
He sighed heavily, his handsome face troubled. “I just feel like we both have to acknowledge that all this Christian stuff is theory. Maybe your friend will be in heaven someday, and maybe, hon, she’s just gone.”
Love In a Distant Land: Rachel Marie Series Book One Page 3