Love In a Distant Land: Rachel Marie Series Book One

by David B. Smith

  “Over here! Miss Stone!”

  She glanced up, startled. An American man in his sixties was waving energetically. “Are you Rachel Marie?”

  “Uh huh.” A grin of relief. That’s one worry erased. Thank you, Lord!

  “You came in right on schedule. We just got here too.” He reached over and commandeered her cart. “Pop your carry-on right there, why don’t you? You’ve had a long trip.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m John Garvey. And this is my wife, Marilyn.”

  A bubbly woman wearing a simple T-shirt and slacks gave Rachel Marie a quick hug. “Welcome welcome welcome! Sawatdee kah! It’s great to have another California girl. That’s where we’re from. I can’t wait to get acquainted.”

  “Me too.” Rachel Marie returned the embrace.

  Stepping back, Marilyn slipped a fragrant necklace of flowers around her neck. “This is our first missionary custom, and you might as well get used to all of ‘em.”

  “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “Oh, we wouldn’t dream of having one of our teachers just land here and feel all lost and abandoned,” her husband put in. “It’s kind of scary in a big city like this, especially clear around the world.”

  “Yeah.” Rachel Marie scanned the glittering airport. “I mean, it looks pretty much like home, but I know this isn’t America.” There was Thai lettering everywhere, and a long row of foreign-looking bank exchange windows and announcements about tourism options. A massive HD video display in the middle of the concourse boasted about an upcoming orchid festival for global visitors from more than one hundred countries.

  “And this is Khemkaeng,” John went on. “He’s our vice principal and business manager at the school, basically my right-hand man and the brains of the whole show.”

  A Thai man a few inches taller than Rachel Marie bowed slightly, with a big smile on his face. He was more formally dressed, with a pinstriped suit and white shirt, but had pulled his necktie off and tucked it into the side pocket of the jacket. She could see a corner of the colorful fabric peeking out.

  “Hello, Miss Stone,” he responded warmly. “We feel very honored that New Hope Church could send us an excellent teacher on short notice.”

  It was hard not to let surprise show on her face. The man’s English was near-perfect, and spoken with only a trace of an accent. “Oh,” she managed. “Well, God made it pretty plain that he wanted me to come, so here I am.”

  “Very good.” He gestured toward the exit. “Shall we go? I’m sure you will wish to rest after such a long airplane journey.”

  “We have a van and driver just outside,” John added as he began to push Rachel Marie’s things in the direction of the huge glass doors. Tour operators and representatives for various luxury hotels edged into their path, but Khemkaeng gave a surreptitious shake of his head and they shrank back, muttering cheerfully. “We have many people eager to help you, Miss Stone,” he grinned. “And to make money.”

  “Please,” she remonstrated. “Call me Rachel Marie.”

  “Thank you.” A moment of hesitation. “Rachel Marie.” He politely took her arm and led her through the door. “I’m sorry–it is very hot today.”

  The humidity of the late afternoon hit her like a slow punch in the stomach. The muggy air shimmered like a fierce curtain over the vast acreage of gray concrete outside the terminal.

  “You’ll get used to it, dear,” Marilyn said as they perched on the curb, waiting. “We try to hang around the AC just about 24/7. And all our classrooms are very comfortable.” The Thai administrator spoke briefly into a cell phone, and moments later a light green Toyota van pulled up, approaching from the right. A short driver wearing a gray polyester uniform got out and quickly put Rachel Marie’s belongings into the rear luggage compartment.

  “Jump in.”

  She sank into one of the seats, breathing hard. A tiny air vent bravely pushed cool air toward her, but with the van’s sliding door still open, the atmosphere was close to stifling. She could feel a trickle of sweat begin to puddle in the middle of her back and slowly slide down toward her waist. Instinctively she reached around and found the nearest seatbelt.

  Khemkaeng said a few words in Thai, and the driver nodded, heading the vehicle toward the airport exit. Rachel Marie watched, dumbfounded, at the odd spectacle of a person driving while in the right-hand seat of the car. A corny joke Bucky had once told her popped into her brain: Why did the Siamese twins go vacationing in England? ‘Cause the other twin wanted to drive. She grinned, remembering . . . and especially with the reference to Siam, which was now all around her.

  Despite the air conditioning in the van, John fanned himself with a brochure he picked up from the dashboard. “How was your flight? Your connections went okay?”

  “Uh huh. I didn’t even have an hour in Taipei, and was worried I wouldn’t get from one gate to the next–or that my bags wouldn’t make it. But it turned out the gates were really close, and obviously my suitcases got switched fine.”

  The chauffeur signaled and then pulled the van onto a divided freeway heading into the city. All around them, small green-and-yellow taxis darted from one lane to the next, passing the occasional diesel truck.

  “Bangkok didn’t used to have this nice freeway,” Marilyn explained, pointing to various sights. “But this airport is fairly new, actually, and it’s such a nice improvement. Traffic in the city itself is kind of a nightmare, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh really?” Despite her fatigue, Rachel Marie stared in fascination at the colorful scenery on both sides as they sped toward the city. The commuter freeway was elevated, and the suburbs below were mostly decrepit business buildings and cheap apartments, punctuated by leafy trees and honking traffic. Every few kilometers new high-rise hotels and modernized business parks punctuated the skyline. Billboards flashed a digital array of advertising come-ons in both Thai and English. Familiar brand names like Coke and Toyota were everywhere, emblazoned at nearly every intersection.

  The traffic slowed as they came into town. John shifted around from his perch in the front passenger seat. “I hope you don’t mind. But we’ve tentatively got a place for you in the same apartment where Denny and Linda were staying. There’s still two months left on the lease, and the school would cover half of it. I mean, if it doesn’t suit you, I’m sure Khemkaeng could go out with you and find something you liked better. But these are really cute little apartments, and it’s just a short one-stop bus ride over to the school.” He paused. “Does that sound all right?”

  “Oh, sure.” Rachel Marie, almost too tired to think, was agreeable. “Do other teachers stay there too?”

  “Yes, several,” Khemkaeng interjected. “It is very nice, very comfortable.”

  Marilyn leaned forward and put a hand on Rachel Marie’s shoulder. “We would love to have you over for a bite of supper. But with your long plane ride, maybe you’re too tired. And I don’t know–maybe they just fed you before you landed. So would tomorrow evening be better? Either’s fine with us.”

  Rachel Marie nodded gratefully. “We had, like, four meals, and I’m just too upside-down to even think about food. Tomorrow’d be great though.”

  “That’s what we’ll do then.” She seemed pleased. “I’ll make sure John leaves work on time so we can all get acquainted.”

  “Well,” John admitted, nodding toward his Thai assistant, “the school term starts next Monday. So we’ve got a million things going, with parents coming by to register and pay fees, and with our trying to update our web site and get the gym AC repaired over the weekend. But I’ll make sure to be home for supper. Boss.” He added the last bit teasingly at his wife. Khemkaeng, accustomed to his supervisor’s America wit, grinned at Rachel Marie.

  With a tiny honk, the driver suddenly wheeled to the left and exited the freeway. “Would you like to take two minutes and see the school?” John asked. “We won’t even stop, but we could just drive by and you could get a sense of where you’ll be
working this next year.”

  “I’d like that.”

  She was startled by a loud buzzing sound. The van came to a traffic light and a furious bevy of motorcycles cut to the head of the line, their two-stroke engines whining as they jockeyed for position ahead of the taxis and trucks. Most of the riders wore helmets, but a few braved the haphazard traffic bareheaded.

  John pointed to one in a yellow jersey. “That guy’s running a taxi right on his bike,” he observed. “Gives people rides for a few baht on the back of his Yamaha.”

  The light turned green and the cycles roared down the street ahead of the cars, cutting dangerously between lanes. “That’s wild,” Rachel Marie gasped. “Do they drive like that all the time?”

  Khemkaeng laughed. “Motorcycles go to the front at every light. It is a big advantage here in Bangkok.”

  Their own driver wheeled carefully through the intersection, then made a short left turn and came up to a secluded area ringed by tall trees. “There she is,” John beamed. “The school that Jesus built.”

  “Why do you say that?” Rachel Marie pressed her face up to the window, gazing with interest at the beautiful campus with its four attractive two-story buildings and the wide sidewalks ringed with orchids and tropical shrubs. Some athletic balls sat forlornly in the dirt underneath a set of swings, and she saw a pair of children ambling past the small playground.

  “Oh, we say this is the school Jesus built because for a place like this to survive in a Buddhist culture it takes a miracle,” he explained. “But the government supports us, and we’ve had a number of parents enroll their children here for five, six years in a row. And now that we’ve recruited a couple of really excellent teachers, including Miss Stone, it’s an exciting turning point for BCS. So we’re already praising the Lord.”

  The driver eased around the next corner to the administration building. An elegant granite rock in front of a small water fountain had “Bangkok Christian School” etched in it, with Thai lettering just above the English words. A stately flagpole had the ever-present Thai banner with its five horizontal stripes of red, white, blue, white, red.

  “It’s really pretty.” She felt her pulse flutter in excitement. What would her kids be like? Would their English be good enough that she’d be able to communicate effectively with them? Will they like me?

  Marilyn seemed able to read her thoughts. “They’re going to love you,” she said softly so just the young teacher could hear her.

  “I hope so.” She noticed Khemkaeng looking at the two of them with a hint of bemused curiosity.

  “Well, let’s get you to a shower and a bed,” John interjected, glancing at his watch. “Your body clock is probably completely upside down, but you should try to climb in bed and get on Bangkok time as soon as possible.”

  They drove about nine more blocks through thinning traffic and came to a street dotted with a few small eateries. A medium-size apartment complex constructed in a U-shape spanned half of a block, with a sign out front: Orchid Garden Apartments.

  “Here we are,” Khemkaeng announced. “This is a place that is quite nice. You will be very comfortable.” He grinned. “In Thai we say sabai.”

  There was a tiny office on the first floor, and she could see the pale blue of a postage-stamp-sized swimming pool in the corner of the open courtyard. A few abandoned towels draped across the three sunbathing chaise chairs. “Where’s my apartment?”

  The principal hopped out and waited while the driver pulled the two bulging suitcases out of the rear cargo area. Khemkaeng grabbed the second one and the two men huffed up a couple flights of stairs with Rachel Marie in tow. The heat had subsided, she noticed gratefully, and she felt a whisper of pleasure over the pretty sunset bathing the sky through the nearby trees.

  “Here we are.” John pulled a key out of his pocket and pushed open a door marked #305. A delicious whisper of air conditioned comfort blew toward them and the coolness bathed her face. “We had one of our ladies come in earlier today and freshen it up a bit,” John told her, following Khemkaeng to the bedroom and setting the bags down. “And the manager switched beds, double to single, so you’d have more room back here.”

  He came back out and pointed toward the tiny kitchen. “There’s a mini-fridge here, and we put in just a few things to get you going.”

  “That’s awesome,” she told him, overwhelmed by the favors. “You guys have really made this easy for me.”

  “Well, we try.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “The next day or two, we’ll show you how to handle your money and everything and get you tutored in our currency here. But here’s just a few baht so you can run out and get some toothpaste or a bite to eat or something. There’s a 7-Eleven just up the street and they have a lot of the little things you might need. Like bottled water.” He gestured toward the fridge. “We put a couple of bottles in there for starters. I’m sure you already found out that ‘Don’t drink the water’ is still our national slogan here in Bangkok.”

  Khemkaeng went over to the small window in the living room and opened up the drapes, allowing a sliver of the pale sunset into the room. “The city has very good buses,” he told her. “And Number Five takes you right by our school. We will show you. But tomorrow we have orientation at school, and someone will come and get you.”

  “Eight-thirty,” John added apologetically. “Sorry. But don’t worry. It won’t be a very long day. We’ll probably quit right after lunch and then get ready for the weekend.”

  Rachel Marie stifled a yawn. “Sorry. I’m kind of blanking out.”

  “Of course you are,” he responded sympathetically. “Well, we’ll get out of your hair and let you get some rest. Eight-thirty, then?”

  “I’ll be ready,” she said, with a bit of cute determination which made Khemkaeng smile. “I almost forgot, though. I told my folks I’d call them. How do I do that?”

  John glanced at his watch. “Don’t forget they’re fourteen hours behind us. So it’s coming up on 4:30 in the morning. You said Seattle, right?”

  “Uh huh.” Her brow furrowed. “What should I do?”

  “I put a phone card in that envelope,” he told her. “It’s got, like, $10 on it. There’s a yellow pay phone down by the apartment office. You just enter the number on the card, and then you’ll get a dial tone and you can dial America with it. It has the country code right on the card.”

  Rachel Marie shook her head, overwhelmed. “I can’t believe all this. Thanks, you guys.”

  “Phone calls to the U.S. are about eight cents a minute,” Khemkaeng explained. “We can get you high-volume cards at the office for a very cheap rate. Or I can help you buy a cell phone with a plan to call your country. The main thing is always remembering the fourteen hours. And fifteen in the winter.”

  She gave him a quizzical look, and he grinned. “When U.S. goes away from Daylight Savings Time, then it is the full fifteen hours.”

  “Oh.”

  The two men bade her a cheerful farewell and closed the door behind them. John gave her a last wave and followed Khemkaeng down the stairwell.

  Now what? She felt a tremor of loneliness. The school family was obviously going to be a warm and loving community; already she was excited and anticipating the first day of school and the adventure of sharing learning–and Jesus–with twenty-seven bright-eyed kids.

  But now, at 6:30 on a Thursday evening, she was abruptly all by herself in a very foreign world where the heat was stifling and a slightly mildewed stench hovered over the city. Bangkok was 9,500 miles away from home, and she knew exactly one word of Thai.

  She didn’t feel like unpacking yet, so did a slow tour of the tiny apartment, which took less than a minute. The cozy living room had a comfortable couch and small TV on a wicker stand, perched under a nondescript waterfall painting. The aqua-painted walls seemed a bit intense for her taste, but with just a couple of minor chips here and there. The mini-fridge, a microwave, and a small rudimentary stove barely passed for a ki
tchen. Her bedroom contained only a single bed and a small dresser with a lamp. The apartment’s lone air conditioning unit was a small rectangle shoe-horned into the wall, and it hummed incessantly to cool the place off. I’ll have to always keep the bedroom door open. She shook her head, grateful and bemused, as she saw that the bed was already made up.

  The bathroom, with soap and a towel already in place, had an American-style toilet, she noted with relief, and a narrow shower stall. She sagged a bit when she saw that the shower was simply a shower head attached to a twisted rubber tube running down to a rusted pipe. But at least there were faucets for both hot and cold water, although in this heat, a cool shower would probably feel best anyway.

  Rachel Marie made an abrupt decision and peeled off her traveling clothes. They were damp with perspiration, and she tossed them into the bedroom and trudged to the little shower.

  It took a minute to fiddle with the controls, but a nice stream of warm water finally flowed over her fatigued body and she basked in the comforting stream. It took some scrubbing to wash the sense of oily time zones off her face, but fifteen minutes later she toweled off and slipped into a tank top and a pair of shorts.

  She lay down on top of the bed covers and simply stared at the slow twirling of the ceiling fan. Bangkok. I’m in Bangkok. She remembered snippets of movies on AMC where a young teacher named Anna labored to instruct the children of an ancient king of Siam. Pop songs about hot nights in the nightclubs of Bangkok. And now here I am.

  An hour later, groggy but still awake, she decided to call home. Mom and Dad would just be waking up in Seattle, and she was starved for their voices. Tucking the envelope with the phone card into her pocket, and finding the apartment key, she dug out her flip-flops and padded down the two flights of stairs.