“Well,” he said, rising to his feet and holding out his hand, “I love your plan. You are my beautiful treasure tonight.”
“And what romantic place are you taking me to this evening?” Then she blushed and picked up her tiny purse. “I mean, where am I taking you? This evening is my treat, Khemkaeng.”
He shook his head, pleased. “Would you like to come with me to a French restaurant? Perhaps the best in all Asia?”
“I’ve never tried that,” she told him. “But it sounds elegant. Where is it?”
He moved toward the door, hand in hand with her. “It is part of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. Bangkok’s most well-known. Five-star.”
“It sounds perfect.”
It was a wonderfully regal feeling, stepping out into the Bangkok night in her splendid dress, sheer black stockings, and high heels. Even the unkempt pool and the cheap motorbikes parked next to the apartment fence couldn’t detract from the elegance of this fine evening. She squeezed his hand as he opened the door for her. “Thank you, sir.”
Khemkaeng climbed into the driver’s seat and carefully fastened his seatbelt, eyeing his evening companion with a flustered grin. “You look so wonderful.”
“You’re sweet.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “May I make a suggestion?”
“I think so.” Despite his obvious elation, he managed to respond in a teasing way.
“Actually two suggestions.”
“Yes, Miss Stone. I am listening.”
She looked directly at him. “I hope you won’t mind if I say that tonight I want to be your beautiful date, and not a BCS Bible instructor. Is that all right?”
He laughed as he started the motor. “You are one hundred percent right. If I have Bible questions I will call Pastor Mike.” He glanced at her again. “You are too beautiful tonight to be a school professor.”
Traffic hummed around them as he merged onto Silom Road, following the crimson sea of taillights heading toward the Chao Phraya River and the glittering evening that beckoned to the young couple. “You said you had two suggestions,” Khemkaeng reminded her. “What is your other one?”
Rachel Marie shook her head with a devious glint in her eye. “I’m saving it.”
* * *
Le Normandie was all its international reputation promised and more. Quiet and richly textured, it was tucked into the scenic garden wing of the fabled riverfront hotel which had hosted celebrities and world leaders for over a century. “This is amazing,” Rachel Marie murmured as they walked hand in hand through the lobby with its oversized chandeliers and costly Asian artifacts. A string trio in the corner serenaded guests and tourists as they strolled past.
“Yes, it is very beautiful,” he agreed, pointing her toward the entrance. “Are you ready?”
A very young maitre d’, resplendent in evening wear, bowed slightly and showed them to a corner table overlooking the silvery river. A small crystal centerpiece on the white linen contained three floating candles. Cruise boats hosting dinner parties and occasional water taxis glided past them as the twinkling lights of nearby hotels reflected in a dancing pattern on the water.
They picked up the leather-bound menus and Rachel Marie gulped. “I wouldn’t have any idea what to order.” The French recipes sounded like a pretentious mystery puzzle, and even the English translations were difficult to decipher.
“Maybe our waitress can help.” He spoke in Thai with her, and the woman pointed to two items, explaining what each entrée contained.
“She suggests you will like this the best,” he observed, pointing. “Not too–how shall I say–exotic. But very delicious and also a good size of a meal.”
“I trust you.” She laughed and helplessly nodded her assent. He closed the menu and spoke to the waitress again, slipping into their shared native tongue as Rachel Marie listened, bemused.
Khemkaeng and Rachel Marie chatted easily, soaking in the decadent ambience and munching contentedly on freshly made croissants, delicious and chewy with melted butter. “I could eat fifty of these,” she confessed with a happy sigh.
“They bring dessert selections to us on a cart,” he warned. “So save some room.”
Khemkaeng gave a small shake of his head when the wine steward approached, but did request some cinnamon-flavored tea for his date. It arrived with the main course, and after saying a shared blessing, holding hands, they dug into the meal with zest.
The parsley potatoes and caramelized herbs were superb and Rachel Marie savored the starry evening. And as the pleasant time passed, a sweet sense of relief stole over her, giving her a settled feeling of peace.
Under ordinary circumstances, the precarious indecision of her current life would have disturbed not just the date, but the entire Thailand adventure. Sitting across from her, the soft lights of the restaurant reflecting muted pleasure in his eyes, was an elegant and gracious man who, in his own self-effacing way, was winning her heart. That very morning, without weighing the import of her words, she had helplessly blurted out that she loved him. And it was true, she realized now, as she basked in his presence.
There was a large clock out in the lobby of the hotel, and she happened to look past Khemkaeng and notice that it was nine o’clock—seven in the morning on the west coast of the United States. Half a world away, Adrian Morris was likely finishing up a quick jog or popping into a Starbucks with a real estate client or a mortgage broker fishing for a new business connection.
Do I still care about him? Even after these several months of separation, with not a phone call or email between them, Rachel Marie realized that part of her heart was still oddly knit together with the exciting but spiritually diffident man she had left behind in California. There were still nights where she would awaken with a start from a jarring dream where he loomed as a physically overwhelming and masculine presence.
But as she nibbled on the exotic dessert macaroons and chatted and drank in the presence of her new beloved friend, the potential collision of these hurtling romantic forces shrank into insignificance. Even though her days in Khemkaeng’s world were numbered and dwindling, promising a wrenching future of hard choices, she was at total, glorious peace. Her Lord had led her to this land. Her Father in heaven knew all things and directed in the movements of men and the melting and reforming of their hearts. And he had made her a chosen instrument to bring Khemkaeng into the eternal kingdom.
That was her Lord’s highest objective. Mission Accomplished. And if Jesus could triumph in this great endeavor, he was assuredly able to clearly and safely lead her and this man she cared about into the future which was best.
“What?” Khemkaeng peered into her eyes. “You are thinking something very interesting.”
She blushed. “It’s nothing.”
He pursed his lips. “I believe I remember an American poem taught to me by a beautiful woman who is afraid of snakes. Something about telling lies and having trousers on fire. Do you recall it?”
A giggle. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”
The waitress approached with a small bow. “Was everything satisfactory?”
“It was perfect,” Rachel Marie smiled. “Absolutely perfect. Thank you for a beautiful evening.”
“We are pleased to have been of service.”
She carefully laid a small, itemized bill on the table between them and Rachel Marie reached for it. “Let’s see if you are worth such a high-priced outing.”
The bill was in Thai currency and she strained to convert 1,650 baht into dollars. Not quite fifty bucks. She frowned a bit, trying to remember the engraved numbers on the elaborate French menu.
“Is everything all right?”
“Oh sure.” She gave a little shake of her head.
“I can help a bit,” he put in. “I know what you said, but this has been a–how do you say it–unforgettable evening. Very beautiful and nice for me. Why not, then?”
“No, no. Actually, it seems like a lot less than I thought. I hope they didn’t make a mis
take.”
“I am sure it is correct,” he assured her. “They are very professional here.”
“Yeah. I guess.” She handed the maitre d’ her credit card, and signed for the meal with a contented sigh.
“Thank you so much, Rachel Marie.” He leaned across the table and took her hand in his. “I will never forget such a lovely evening. And how you looked tonight.”
They walked back out to the lobby, its subdued chandelier lights mingled in among the mosaic of lush tropical flora creating an indoor garden. In the far corner overhanging the river, a jazz saxophone artist was accompanied by a petite European woman playing a white grand piano. Rachel Marie gave a start when the haunting melody registered in her mind.
“It’s Amazing Grace,” she whispered, squeezing Khemkaeng’s hand.
“What?”
“My favorite gospel song in the world.”
They paused right in the lobby and she rested her head against his shoulder as the rich tenor notes filled the grand edifice. I once was lost, but now am found . . .
“Shall we walk by the river?” Khemkaeng smiled down at her. “There is no school tomorrow and I want for this evening to never end.”
“That sounds nice.” The tropical breeze outdoors was a cool breath of paradise and they strolled past a miniature portico and gazebo built in the style of a Buddhist temple. The gold fluting and curled tips at each corner of the roof glowed in the soft lighting, and he pointed to a boardwalk which led along the river.
“Are you warm enough?”
Rachel Marie nodded. “Uh huh. Perfect.”
It felt wonderfully feminine to be in her elegant new evening dress and with a man who was both good-looking and comfortably down to earth. In the distance, a steamer’s foghorn sounded its gentle wail across the murky water.
At the end of the short walkway was a small oval verandah where couples and tourists could look out over the river and the evening lights on the far side. They paused there, alone in the velvet darkness, and Rachel Marie felt a delicious sense of anticipation. The very air was giddily romantic, the aroma of lotus blossoms and the faint culinary traces of French cuisine still present there on the wharf. She clutched his hand a bit tighter. So secure and good . . .
Khemkaeng returned the squeeze, then released her hand and slowly slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“Mmmmm.” Rachel Marie reciprocated and savored the quiet moment of being in his embrace. “This is really nice.”
“Yes.” For a moment it seemed that he was about to say something more, but the silence lingered comfortably between them.
“Should I take you home now?”
She rested her head against his shoulder, knowing a dab of her perfume was still present as a potent essence pulling them closer and yet closer. “Not yet, babe.”
The endearment slipped out without her realizing it, and she quickly blushed. How do I take that back?
It took him just a moment to respond. “Rachel Marie . . .” He slowly pulled her closer so they were face to face. For a long, agonizingly tender moment he looked into her eyes. Then, dipping down just enough, he pulled her face closer and kissed her.
It was short and a bit tentative, not at all the kind of savoir-faire kiss a Nigel would confidently serve up. But somehow, in the sweet aftermath of that morning’s spiritual rebirth, it was absolutely Khemkaeng. And just right.
Rachel Marie raised her hand to his cheek and traced along it. “You’re a dear, dear man,” she murmured, her heart full.
“And you . . . are truly special and precious to me. Rachel . . .”
She gulped, her cheeks reddening. “May I make that second suggestion now?”
His eyes opened wide. “Of course. What is it?”
Rachel Marie leaned closer, her perfume now filling his senses. “My suggestion is that you kiss me again . . . and this time, just a little bit more like this.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Oh, come on. No way. You think this is the exact same train car? You’re crazy.”
Bucky grinned as he looked up and down the long aisle dividing the rows of blue seats. “Sure looks like it. ‘Course, that was fifteen-plus years back.”
It gave Rachel Marie goose bumps to think of her big brother taking this same northern route–Bangkok to Chiang Mai–during a high school mission trip so long ago. “That’s really something, Bucky.”
“I know. And here we are again. With now my baby sister actually being almost . . . a native here. That’s unreal.”
Khemkaeng lurched down the aisle holding a large plate. “I got some pineapple for us.”
“I’ll take some!” Lisa, wearing a Celtics sweatshirt and cutoffs, hopped off her seat, almost tripping over a duffel bag poking out into the aisle. “Honey, you always said the pineapple here is out of this world.”
“Uh huh.”
Rachel Marie let the delicious flavors linger in her mouth for a wonderful moment, her heart bursting with excited pleasure. Two days after a wistful Christmas Day far from her loved ones in America, Bucky and Lisa had jetted into Bangkok for the promised weeklong reunion.
“Tillie’s okay with the folks?”
Rachel Marie’s sister-in-law, her mouth stuffed with the delicious tropical fruit, managed a garbled answer. “Are you kidding? She babbled about it until I thought I’d go nuts. ‘I’m staying with Gramma. I’m staying with Gramma. Yay for me. I’m staying with Gramma.’ It’s like Daddy and I were . . . nothing.” They all laughed. “But she said to tell her Auntie Rachel hi. And this kiss is for you.” She blew a smooch over to Rachel Marie.
A few weeks before the brief school break, Khemkaeng had broached the subject of a holiday trip to northern Thailand. “Because we have a western orientation at BCS, we adopt some traditional holidays,” he told Rachel Marie. “Of course, we observe all Buddhist holy days. But just the week between Christmas and the New Year celebration, we also dismiss all students.” Some of the foreign enrollees, he observed, came from families that expected a holiday celebrating the Christian yuletide season.
Now he sat across from Bucky, casually clad for the traveling adventure in shorts and a snug-fitting polo shirt with the school’s logo. “Did your wife enjoy the Bangkok temples?”
“They were so amazing!” Lisa interrupted her husband’s response, and he managed a good-natured smile indicating he was used to that. “I remember way back in high school when he flew over here. I’d run off on him to go live in Seattle, junior in high school–I guess we were kind of broken up, but I still dreamed about him just about every night–and he emailed me a couple times about all the stuff he and his friends saw.”
The long passenger train entered more rural terrain, as rice paddies and scattered orchards slipped by in the friendly twilight of a humid December night. Every now and then they could hear the muted ding ding ding of the railway line’s automated signaling system as they approached a bridge or southbound train. Occasional two-lane roads cut across the tracks, and Rachel Marie would catch a glimpse of a small row of cars idling their motors behind the red-and-white barrier pole.
She shifted in her leatherette seat and perched her feet on the opposing chair next to Khemkaeng. “Sorry. I got a cramp in my foot.”
The railroad cars were air conditioned, and small overhead fans did slow clockwise circles, blowing the refurbished air down on the passengers below. Large windows on both sides had the Thai national logo etched in the glass, but offered a view of the nocturnal images clicking by in the darkness.
“I need a potty break,” Rachel Marie grumbled suddenly, looking up the aisle. “Where does a lady go for that kind of thing?”
Khemkaeng grinned. “Right at the end there. But I am afraid it is not the best restroom. The one on the left is better. On the other side, it is only a squat toilet.”
She made a face. “Yuck.” Then to Lisa. “Come go with me, okay?”
Lisa struggled to her feet. “May as well.” She glanced down at her slightly swol
len tummy. “With Herman, here, kicking at my bladder every half hour, I seem to camp out mostly in the ladies’ room.”
The floor had random sticky spots where railway food vendors sometimes spilled a dab of Pepsi or orange juice. A large and raucous family of Indian tourists, the ladies ornate in their colorful saris, peered curiously at the two American girls as they made their way to the end of the car.
“Here goes nothing,” Rachel Marie sighed as she opened the door. A sour stench assaulted her nose, and she grimaced as though determined to hold her breath for the duration.
“Don’t fall asleep in there,” Lisa giggled.
The quartet chatted amiably into the late evening as Bucky and Lisa plied Khemkaeng with questions about Thailand and the school. “It is difficult for us,” he conceded, “but we try at BCS to follow the western calendar. In Bangkok, most government schools have a school year which extends from May until the next March. But because we often have students matriculate here who have just arrived from other countries, we begin in the middle of August.”
Bucky digested this. “How does that work, then, if some kid needs to leave your school and return to the regular Thai system?”
“That is the awkward thing. When they come in, it is a small matter–very pleasant, actually–of having a very long vacation. From March until August. But if a family finds it necessary to remove their child from our school and go back, it is more difficult. They sometimes have to skip the last few weeks at BCS and immediately transfer to the other school.” He sighed. “Of course, we try to keep them. And their tuition money!”
Lisa, her feet perched across her husband’s lap, gave Khemkaeng a teasing smile. “So what’s it like all of a sudden going to a Christian church every week with your new honey?”
His face lit up. “It is a great blessing. Of course, I already know much of the music. From BCS. And many of the staff members attend this church. Especially my favorite teacher.” He beamed at Rachel Marie. “But I look forward to Pastor Munir’s sermons each week. I am learning so many things.”
Love In a Distant Land: Rachel Marie Series Book One Page 20