And yet, she glumly acknowledged, a small but stubborn part of her soul had continued to think about the man from California. Why? Was her soul to be forever tantalized by the ethereal, elusive concept of chemistry? It’s been over for months. It was over when you got on the plane, Missie Stone.
* * *
After morning worship, several students came up to her desk with shy smiles and birthday cards. A bit distracted, Rachel Marie forced a smile as she read through them. “Missie Stone, you show us God’s love. I hope you have most happy birthday of life. Nina.” Duchanee had added a smirking P.S. to hers. “I pray that Mr. Khemkaeng decide to marry you and you stay our teacher for long time!!!”
Closing prayer had just concluded when he appeared in the doorway. Behind Khemkaeng, Rachel Marie could see several girls openly making kissie gestures, and she gave them a fierce shake of the head. “These are wicked kids you’ve assigned to me,” she complained, trying to recapture her earlier cheerfulness. “All twenty-eight of them. Why did you give me the naughtiest kids in all Bangkok?”
“What?” He turned to look behind him and the girls scampered down the hall, their squeals echoing off the concrete walls.
“Nothing. They’re just teasing me because they’re jealous I’ve got a hot-looking boyfriend.”
“I have been instructed to shut off this computer,” he informed her, his face darkening comically. “By force if necessary. It is BCS policy, Missie Stone, that teachers will not work excessive hours on their birthday.”
She managed a crooked grin, feeling a bit of normalcy return. “No need to use force, Mr. Chaisurivirat. Or use handcuffs. You are the boss and I will come willingly.” Things always felt better when it was just him.
“Very good.” His eyes danced with anticipation. “Hurry. We do not have much time.”
“Where are you taking me?” She scrambled to keep up with his longer gait as he led her downstairs and out to the parking lot, still splotchy with random rain puddles. High school boys shooting baskets on an outdoor hoop turned and grinned as they saw the young couple.
“Wait and see.” In the early afternoon, southbound traffic was relatively light, and in less than an hour they had escaped the worst of Bangkok’s gridlock. He hummed a nondescript tune to himself as they visited.
“So Missie Stone is now twenty-four.”
“Yeah. I’m an old lady, Khemkaeng. Better take a picture of me so you can remember when I wasn’t all saggy and gray.”
He sped up to ease around a tour bus. “You will always be the most beautiful woman in the world.”
The air was cooler away from the harsh city, and they rolled down their windows to enjoy the country breeze. “What’s that nice fragrance?” she asked. There was a hint of clean saltiness wafting into the front seat.
Khemkaeng slowed down and negotiated a sharp right turn as the highway banked around a tall hotel and row of shops. “Perhaps . . . the beach?”
“Awesome!” Rachel Marie leaned forward, taking in the white sands and beautiful blue panorama spreading itself seductively before them. “Where is this?”
“We call it Bangsaen. It is on the way to Pattaya–much more famous–but this beach is quieter and more appropriate. Pattaya has become too much . . . bars and nightclubs and crime problems.”
“Oh.” She tried to blank out the jarring phone interruption earlier that morning. “It’s so pretty.”
They parked and he led her over to a small restaurant. “For your birthday, I suggest all the pizza you can eat.”
She beamed. “How did you know? My parents used to always order a great big Domino’s for me and my girlfriends on my birthday, and we’d stuff ourselves silly while watching cartoons.”
“Good.” They sat at a private table overlooking the rolling surf and he beckoned to a waiter. They chose a large pizza with her favorite toppings, and cold bottles of local pop. A few bathers splashed in the nearby shallow breakers, giggling and cavorting in the tropical paradise. Rachel Marie chewed thoughtfully, appreciating the familiar tastes and low-key shared moment.
“How is the meal?”
“Perfect.” She leaned over and kissed his forearm through the sleeve. “You’re a prince. I really needed this.”
Three waiters, grinning, came out with a small piece of cake with a single candle. “Happy birthday to you,” they chorused in a painfully high key. “Happy birthday, pretty lady, happy birthday to you.”
“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” she managed as she took a bite of the gooey confection.
Leaving their shoes in the car, they both rolled up their pant legs and strolled casually together on the sand, letting the cool tides swirl around their ankles. Her hand snuggled in his, she breathed a prayer that God would continue to make his divine will plain.
“We can sit here,” he said suddenly, pointing to a row of large green-and-white umbrellas perched over canvas chairs. “The sunset should be very beautiful with the rain clouds in the sky.” He slipped twenty baht to the attendant.
The orange orb did indeed paint a majestic picture in the western sky as the clouds scudded across the horizon. A sailboat in the far distance tacked toward the beach as bathers began to gather up their playthings.
Small talk continued for a bit, but he suddenly picked up her hand and held it between both of his. “I feel like we should talk about what the future may be.”
Rachel Marie gulped. Oh, dear Lord. Today? What . . .
“Okay,” she managed, trying to remain calm even though her insides were unsettled.
“You are . . . so dear,” he said simply. “It is not my usual way to say things like this often. But I do love you very much.”
She felt a trembling bit of moisture in her eyes, and tried to force her quivers away. “Sweetie, I love you too.”
Khemkaeng smiled, encouraged. “To be in love this way is a big decision,” he admitted. “But day by day, I feel the blessing of God as we continue to become more and more close.”
“Me too.”
“When our school term is finished, I realize that your plan was to return to America.” The words hung precariously in the space between them, and she nodded, feeling a lump in her throat.
“And I have said to myself many times, ‘This was the plan. Even with our close friendship, this was always in the plan. In June, Rachel Marie Stone is gone.’”
“Uh huh.” She tried to ascertain what was in those dark, hurting eyes.
He paused. “Rachel Marie, I am not sure how to say all that is in my heart. That I love you . . . I hope you understand. Please.”
“Sure.” She pulled his hand toward her and held it to her lips for a long moment.
“But now what is it we should do? How do we find happiness and also please God?”
“I don’t know.” Rachel Marie clutched his hand tighter and felt strength flowing into her. “I feel the same. I want to please God, and to know he will lead in my life. But I love you very much and don’t know what to do.”
“I have thought for many hours about this,” he confessed. “May I tell you what I think?”
“Of course. First, though, is this.”
“What?”
Though her eyes were wet, she forced a grin. “On a girl’s birthday, her special friend must kiss her.”
“Oh.” He smiled, then leaned forward, giving her a soft kiss that was both searching and wonderfully tender. “Okay?”
“Yes. Very okay.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, praying inwardly as she did so. “Please continue.”
“Sure. There is a wonderful possibility that I pray for. I pray that someday we could be together. That you could be my wife.”
She said nothing, but smiled to indicate she had expended more than a few hours on the same topic.
“But we need more time.” His face was troubled. “There are often cases where an American teacher comes to Bangkok and quickly falls in love with someone here. Perhaps because they are lonely. So they rush into a marria
ge, and soon it is not successful. The cultures are so different, and the two families are surprised and unhappy . . . and it does not work.”
Rachel Marie digested this. “Yeah. You’re right.” She snuggled closer to him. “I mean, I think you’re a man of my dreams. I really can’t think of a way where you’re not just absolutely perfect. But it’s true that we come from different worlds and we live in different worlds, and one of us would have to change our plans in a huge way.”
He nodded. “So in our friendship, Rachel Marie, even though a part of me says, ‘Go! Go! Go! Hurry! This is the perfect woman!’ . . . I have asked God to help both of us to be wise and to have our friendship grow in his way. Slow and wise and careful and . . . et cetera.”
She couldn’t help but grin again, remembering. “So where does all of the et cetera lead us?”
He reflected for a moment, a tower of assured calm, then leaned over and kissed her again. “It is still your birthday.”
“Uh huh. I qualify for birthday kisses for about”–she peeked at her watch–“six more hours.” It was getting dark now.
“May I ask you this?”
“Anything.” She traced her long index finger across his beautiful hand.
“You are an excellent teacher. John has said many times, ‘Finding Rachel Marie was a great moment of God blessing our school.’ The students love you as well.”
She blushed. “And . . .”
“Why not this? You return home as you planned. But in August, you come back to Bangkok and spend a second year here. This gives us the time to continue to have our love grow in a wise way, and to know that we are seeking God’s will. Then, if all is well and we feel his blessing, perhaps then . . .”
The delicious conclusion was unsaid, but she was startled by his proposal. Why not? Did the self-imposed initial deadline, now careening toward them, really have to be enforced? It had always seemed incongruous that Bangkok Christian School, desperately seeking a uniquely talented teacher to galvanize the troops, would only ask her for a single year of service. But now could she come back to this exotic and promising kingdom for a second term, and then truly know that God had directed their paths to a glorious and secure fulfillment?
“Wow,” she murmured. “Sweetheart, I really don’t know what to think. But it sounds wonderful.”
“Will you pray about it?”
“A million times,” she promised–and meant it.
A half-moon, partially obscured by the indigo clouds splashed across the endless horizon, began to ease into the sky. The Indian Ocean was a razor-straight horizontal line spreading into infinity in the far distance, punctuated by an occasional freighter, tiny and insignificant as it silently churned into the dark.
“We should go,” Khemkaeng whispered.
“Just a second.” She felt her heart beating a staccato warning in her rib cage. “I’ve got to tell you something first.”
“What?”
Without fanfare, she told him about the abbreviated infatuation with Nigel Blaine and this morning’s phone call. “I feel like there’s nothing more important in life now than to love you, Khemkaeng, in a way that’s proper and pleasing to Jesus. And so I don’t want for there to ever be something that I hide away from you.”
He digested the news about Adrian, absorbing the body blow without wincing. “What do you think he intended?”
“I have no idea.” She searched his eyes. “Because we broke up. Our relationship was over before I got on an airplane. I made a decision that I could never love a man who didn’t make a full commitment to Christianity, so when I came out here, I said to myself, ‘I’m starting all over again.’ Unfortunately, that wasn’t always a rock-solid and firm choice. But it absolutely is now. One hundred percent. And as soon as I made that promise, God brought you into my life.”
Khemkaeng managed a tiny smile. “I knew you had come here after a relationship ended.”
The news startled her. “How?”
“Pastor Mike knew, and he told John. Before you came to us.”
“Oh.”
The moment felt fragile, almost raw, but she breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. Khemkaeng was too special, too pure, for her to have anything but a wide open relationship, clear and honest. Never again could she avoid this sweet man’s eyes while climbing into a cab for something illicit or hidden.
“So what does this mean? For us?” His voice was outwardly calm.
“Nothing.” She felt a warm glow at her own assertion. “I’m going to think about your idea of me coming back in August, and we’ll go from there.”
He nodded, then added a final reluctant thought. “Rachel Marie, I wish for one thing. I wish for you to be happy. Your joy always brings me joy. I pray that God leads us to find our happiness with each other. But more than my happiness . . . is yours.”
Khemkaeng leaned over now, deliberately, and kissed her, holding their lips together for a wondrously long moment. “Please go home,” he whispered. “With my prayers. When you are sure at last, then come back to me.”
He held her hand for the entire drive back to Bangkok. Neither of them spoke.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The April days dropped off the calendar like ping pong balls rolling off a table. School had a myriad of interruptions and unique events like a bowling party just for 6C and a middle school outing to the popular Dusit Zoo. Rachel Marie tried to simply enjoy the pleasant holding pattern of her love relationship with Khemkaeng, now that the possibility of a second teaching term in Bangkok had been broached.
By now it was a well-established campus reality that Miss Stone was the proverbial straw that stirred the BCS drink. Teachers vied to have her collaborate on their projects or join other classes for field trips. Mrs. Chongrak, Bible instructor for the high school juniors and seniors, drafted Rachel Marie to come over to the Matthayom side and host a freewheeling Q & A session with her teenaged girls. For almost an hour, BCS’s young ladies plied her with blunt questions about cheating, forgiveness, and sex. There was good-natured giggling as the dialogue turned to some of the franker adolescent matters, but the girls all leaned forward with interest.
“Let me tell you what I think,” Rachel Marie said, remembering her own rendezvous with escalating impulses. “See, you ladies are made in God’s image. He made you special. Each girl at BCS is like a princess to God. You have high value in his sight.”
One girl interrupted. “So what if we have a fan? And the boy says, ‘Okay. I love you so much. Now we can . . .’” Her voice trailed off, embarrassed, and Rachel Marie joined in the cheerful hubbub.
“I have had a man say almost exactly that to me,” she admitted.
“So what you say?”
“I say this,” Rachel Marie asserted. “To you, I mean. Not him. I say that God created me special and all of you too. Look around; BCS ladies are amazing and awesome. Each girl here–there’s no one like you. And if God says we are princesses, then should we argue with God? No. And a man who is worth having, a man who is possibly a husband someday . . . that man is willing to wait for the princess. That man will love me for the joy of the fine future we will share, not just for the . . . you know. Not just for the short moment of sleeping together, as nice as that can be.”
Right toward the end, Mrs. Chongrak held up a warning hand. “Only one more question.” There were cheerful groans from the young ladies and Rachel Marie blushed.
“I have question.” A pretty girl from Matthayom Six raised her hand.
“Okay.”
“Our teachers all say, ‘There is a God.’ But how can we for sure know? No one can see him.”
“That’s true,” Rachel Marie conceded. “See, I think there is a lot of evidence for God. This world is beautiful. The Thai people are beautiful. You are beautiful. You seem to me to be lovely ladies who came into this world through a process of design. I mean, going back to what we said about marriage and, you know, sex . . . don’t we see how designed such a nice process is?”
The girls nodded, and for a moment it felt like that might be all. But as Rachel Marie had now come to expect, there was an almost palpable moment of inspiration, where a jolt from heaven flowed into her heart.
“I will tell you a story I’ve never shared,” she began slowly, feeling her own pulse quiver at the idea. “My family knows this story, but no one else. But when I was a little girl, someone came very close to committing a terrible crime, and I was going to be the victim.”
Speaking from the heart, she began to blurt out the saga of the strange man in a blue Honda and how even a small twig of a girl in Prathom One began to understand that a horror awaited her. “He had pornography right there on the floor of his car,” she said, her own words resurrecting the flashback of long-buried fears. “I didn’t know what he was going to do; I was too small to know about sex and violent rape or the idea of child molestation. But I knew it was bad and I knew I was so scared I couldn’t even cry or scream. All I could do was to sit in that car seat and go, Oh no, oh no, Jesus, I’m so afraid.”
The classroom was riveted in silence and some girls visibly winced. “What happened, Missie Stone?” one asked, her own voice a bare whisper.
“Well, this man, this criminal, I’m sure his plan was to take me to someplace like a hotel. But see, he was playing with me. It was his game. So he said, ‘You’re such a pretty little girl. Let’s go have a treat. Let’s have some ice cream.’ So we were a long ways from my home; he stopped the car and we went into this restaurant. And by now I was just terrified, a little six-year-old. It was like a nightmare, but where what is happening is real.”
She could see Marilyn framed against the classroom doorway in frozen fascination. A couple senior girls noticed her standing there, and then turned back to Rachel Marie. “Oh, Missie Stone . . . then what?”
Love In a Distant Land: Rachel Marie Series Book One Page 24