by Amanda Tru
Drisklay was fully awake now, fully alert, even though the back of his shirt remained drenched in his sweat. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Lindgren?” He flipped on the bedroom light, groping blindly for his notebook.
“It’s about Pastor Harrison. His wife is here with me. She has some information she thinks you should know. Can we come over?”
“Here?” Calvin had found his notebook, but where was a pen? Had Caroline stashed them all away?
“Are you at home? We can be there in ten minutes. Fifteen tops.”
Calvin let out his breath. Ten minutes? Just enough time to make himself a pot of coffee and get dressed.
Get dressed and find himself a blasted pen.
“I’ll be here,” he grumbled then rolled out of bed.
“You are fitting in so well with the children,” Mrs. Cho remarked as Caroline sat with two little girls on her lap, flipping the pages of some picture books.
“I’m having a great time,” Caroline admitted and let out a chuckle. “I’m really glad I didn’t let Calvin talk me out of coming here.”
A frown darkened Mrs. Cho’s countenance for a fraction of a second. “Your husband was unhappy with your decision?”
Caroline felt herself blush before her embarrassment was placed with resentment. Why should she feel ashamed if she happened to be married to the most stubborn, impossible man in the United States of America?
She feigned indifference and gave a little shrug. “Not that happy, but it really wasn’t his choice to make, so…” She stopped when Mrs. Cho puckered her lips.
“You don’t worry that your actions come across as disrespectful?”
Chalk it up to a cultural barrier. Mrs. Cho didn’t understand that mutual respect didn’t hold the same weight in the States as it did in a place like Korea. Caroline probably was coming across as the stereotypical brash American housewife, stubborn and aggressive, when in reality she’d tiptoed around Calvin and his antagonism toward the gospel for years. “He’s decided to make his own path in life,” she finally stated, as if that were all that was left to say.
Mrs. Cho sat down on the couch next to her. “But aren’t you worried that when you return home, it will be hard to restore the harmony?”
Caroline didn’t want to shoot back that if she had listened to her husband and stayed at home, Mrs. Cho would be short one orphanage worker. Not that she seemed to need the extra help, but still, Caroline felt herself bristle. “It wasn’t like there was ever any harmony to begin with,” she found herself saying. “Ever since I became a Christian, all he’s done is ridicule me, my friends, my church…” She stopped herself. She’d been looking forward to this time in Seoul so that she could have a break from the constant berating, the constant insults. But here she was, about to pick a fight with a godly Christian woman like Mrs. Cho. What was wrong with her?
“I’m sorry.” She stared at one of the little girls on her lap, straightening out her smooth hair. “I don’t mean to complain.”
Mrs. Cho’s smile returned. “I understand that it is difficult. But I do worry that your time here will make things harder on your marriage when you return to your husband.”
Caroline sighed. She should have known the truth would come out soon enough. She’d tried so hard to make Mrs. Cho think she was a model Christian, a model wife. Now the pretense was over. “Well, don’t worry yourself too much about that. We separated a few weeks before I left.”
There. The full truth, in all its ugly glory. The words left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. “He’s the one who left me,” she hastened to explain, worrying that Mrs. Cho’s silence was unspoken judgement. “I would have tried to keep on making it work, but the truth is I don’t have any more fight left in me. I can’t make him stay, so…” She shrugged once more.
Mrs. Cho shut her eyes. Great. She was so disgusted with Caroline she didn’t even want to look at her. Was this the point where she would ask her to pack up her things? To head back home to patch things up with her husband or at least leave the orphanage where she might be contaminating the children with her western feminist sinfulness?
“The Lord’s ways are not our own,” Mrs. Cho finally declared. “I believe that God called you to Seoul because he’s planning on working a miracle in your marriage, a miracle you wouldn’t believe if he were to reveal his plans to you now.”
“That sounds nice,” Caroline mumbled, but in her heart, she was too tired to hope, too spiritually exhausted to put any faith in the old woman’s words.
Drisklay was already on his third cup of coffee before he decided to start up his computer. If Sandy and Mrs. Harrison were going to take their sweet time getting here after waking him up in the middle of the night, he might as well be productive while he waited.
An initial google search of Pastor Harrison didn’t reveal anything Drisklay didn’t already know, but if there was more information coming about the case, he may as well have as many details about the family as possible.
A few minutes later, he was sipping hot coffee and browsing through blog articles on Harrison’s church website. Pretty standard stuff from what Drisklay could tell. Why Christians should abstain from alcohol… Why Halloween is the devil’s holiday.
Drisklay could at least agree with Harrison on that one even if it wasn’t for the same reasons.
He spent a minute or two browsing the headings then clicked on one that looked interesting enough to peruse more thoroughly. How Christian fathers can protect their daughters in the dangerous world of dating.
Drisklay scanned through the major bullet points.
Fathers, at least according to Pastor Harrison’s line of reasoning, had a God-ordained mission to shield and shelter their daughters until the time that God brought a righteous man into their lives who could assume responsibility for said daughter’s spiritual and physical well-being.
Because apparently, Pastor Harrison had never read the memo that in the twenty-first century women had not only the right to vote but to get an education, earn a living…
He continued on.
Daughters, as descendants of Eve, who was tricked by Satan way back in the beginning of time, were naturally prone to deception, making them easy targets for seduction. Therefore, a father’s role was to vet any potential dating prospect before giving his permission for a relationship to develop. As an example, from the animal kingdom, a zebra’s potential mate has to fight off the father to prove his worthiness before entering into relations with the female.
Drisklay couldn’t help but wonder how the female zebras felt about said arrangement.
The second half of the article grew quite rambling, but the gist seemed to be that a Christian father had the sole responsibility before God to ensure that his daughter (no matter what her age) ended up paired off with a Bible-believing man who would respect her modesty, femininity, and virginity until the day of their nuptials.
Were they living back in the days of Victorian England? These were the kind of people Drisklay’s wife had grown to venerate. Was it any wonder he and Caroline had grown so far apart? At least they’d never had children. Caroline would probably expect Drisklay to act like that male zebra, fighting off his daughter’s suitors until he found one worthy to act as her mate.
What a messed-up system.
So, what had a girl like Rebekah Harrison been doing setting up a profile on an online dating site, especially with such an old-fashioned man for a father? Her profile mentioned in several places that she was looking for a Christian man, but that was just the thing. She was doing the looking.
Not Reverend Papa.
Was Pastor Harrison so set against seeing his daughter dating that he might have done something to try to stop her?
Is that what his wife was on her way over to confess?
The doorbell rang, and he stood up. Whatever Mrs. Harrison had come here to tell him, he was about to find out.
Mrs. Cho emerged from the kitchen with a warm smile on her face, beaming at Caroline. “
I appreciate you watching the children while I clean up. You are a true blessing sent to me from heaven in my time of need.”
Caroline didn’t feel like she was worth such profuse praise. “Really, it’s easy. The kids are so well behaved. I just wish there was more I could do.” As many times as she’d offered, Mrs. Cho had never let Caroline take on any of the household chores. Most of Caroline’s time had been spent reading to children and cuddling baby Da while he took his bottle.
“Would you like to share the Bible story today?” Mrs. Cho asked. “We usually have an afternoon time of prayer and study.”
Caroline wasn’t sure which surprised her more—that Mrs. Cho actually had set aside time to pray with kids so little or that she’d asked Caroline to lead today’s session.
“None of them know any English, do they?” she asked.
Mrs. Cho grinned. “If God can use donkeys, he can most certainly use any one of us in spite of our language deficiencies. Please. Use your gifts of teaching to share with us from God’s Word.” She called the children together, speaking to them rapidly and clapping her hands for emphasis. Caroline sat paralyzed on the couch, wondering what she should say.
“Do they have a particular story they’d like to hear?” she finally asked, glancing around to see if there were any props. Maybe if she found puppets or stuffed animals and made them re-enact something…
“Just tell them what’s on your heart,” Mrs. Cho encouraged. “They’re very good listeners.”
Caroline sighed and realized there was no way out of this. The easiest path through the awkwardness was a straight line to the end. But what should she say?
“Do you know the story about the prodigal son?” She glanced at Mrs. Cho. Maybe telling a group of orphans a story that demonstrated a father’s love wasn’t the best of choices. But she felt committed now. Besides, she reminded herself, the kids couldn’t understand her anyway.
“Once there was a young man who was very mean to his father,” she began. “He took his father’s money and ran away to another town, where he wasted it all.” She paused for just a moment, thinking about all the years she’d squandered as an unbeliever. Years she could have spent worshipping God, learning about his goodness, serving him. In so many ways, she still felt brand-new to the faith and wondered when it would finally seem like she had matured. Right now, she thought the children sitting around here listening politely to a story they didn’t understand probably had more spiritual training that she did.
“Well, when the boy’s money finally ran out, he realized what a terrible mistake he’d made.” A lump caught in Caroline’s throat. Why was she getting so sentimental about a simple parable? What was it about the story, about the children’s wide and attentive eyes, about Mrs. Cho’s silent smile that made her want to break down into tears?
“So, he decided to go back to his father. Now, he didn’t think he could ever be forgiven for all the bad things he’d done, but when his father saw him returning home…” She paused, laughing at herself as she wiped her eyes dry. “I’m sorry.” She glanced at Mrs. Cho. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” She turned back to the children. Some had started to fidget, and they were probably wondering what this foreigner was blabbering on about.
“When his father saw him returning home,” she tried again, “he ran down the road to meet him, threw his arms around his neck, kissed him and praised God for bringing his son safely back to him.”
She tried to laugh again as another tear slipped unwelcomed down her cheek. “It’s a story of how much God loves us, no matter how many bad things we’ve done.” She finished her Bible lesson as quickly as she could. Then she excused herself to the bathroom and had a good cry.
Drisklay opened his front door.
“You’re not Mrs. Harrison.” It was all he had time to say.
A fist connected to his jaw. The adrenaline that flooded his system was far more effective than his pot of coffee in awakening his dulled senses.
“My wife’s a stinking liar.” Harrison barged into the house. Drisklay shoved him against the door, slamming it shut behind him.
He grabbed Harrison by the collar. “What do you think you’re doing in my home?” He slammed his fist into the pastor’s gut.
Harrison bent over with an oomph, and Drisklay brought his knee up to his nose.
Harrison was on the floor. Drisklay straddled him. The front door burst open. Another man. A glint of metal in his hand. Fire seared through his shoulder. Pain and anger and a surge of hot rage.
Someone was shouting. Both of his attackers were up now, on their feet. He ignored his right arm, inexplicably rendered useless, and swung with his left. A yell. His vision tunneled, blinding him to the assailant who attacked from behind.
Fire in his kidneys. In the muscles and flesh of his back. His vision continuing to tunnel, his pulse surging through his ears.
Was this fear, or was this rage? Drisklay surged forward. A couple of punches and the pastor was down.
He turned around and let out a roar of rage when he faced the second attacker. The man looked startled. A punch to the jaw, a knee to the groin. Drisklay lunged toward the living room. Yanking open the drawer, groping to grab hold of his Sig. Racking the slide. Taking aim.
Another stab through his side. What was that?
Hands on his throat, toppling him. His gun went off, firing straight into the ceiling.
Not good.
He was on the ground. His fist pried open. One attacker straddled him. The other stood over him, breathing hard. Holding the Sig. Aiming at Drisklay’s head.
Harrison nodded. “Let’s finish this.” Drisklay squeezed his eyes shut instinctively.
Protectively.
Bracing.
The deafening burst of gunfire. A last millisecond surge of adrenaline.
Then nothing.
“You are feeling better now, I take it?” Mrs. Cho asked as Caroline emerged from the bathroom.
Caroline cleared her throat, scarcely trusting her voice after her display of tears. “Yes, thank you. I think I’m just a little tired. It’s the jetlag…” Her voice trailed off as she realized how weak her excuse sounded. Maybe it was better to change the subject. “Is it time to start getting ready for dinner? Please put me to work however you’d like…”
“First,” Mrs. Cho interrupted, “I want to show you something.” She walked over to the photograph of her husband, her steps slower than normal. Less spry.
She opened the back of the frame and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“Before we were separated,” Mrs. Cho explained, “my husband wrote me this letter.” She sat down on the couch and held the paper out even though Caroline couldn’t decipher any of the writing.
“I will not be able to translate it well, but he says that he is sorry. Before our son and I escaped to live with my sister, my husband and I got into a fight. A very big one. He didn’t want to leave Pyongyang. As pastor of the church there, he thought it was his duty to stay. I could understand this. What I couldn’t understand is why he would send his family, his own flesh and blood, away. In my mind, there was only one choice. If he was going to stay, we would remain in Pyongyang with him to do the Lord’s work. But he insisted.”
She lowered her head. “Most likely, his stubbornness saved me and our son. But even now, I wonder if it wouldn’t have been better…” She sighed. “Well, now, we know that God has his reasons for everything he does, and if the Almighty wanted us here in Seoul, who am I to complain? But I show you this letter because even my husband, a powerful man of God, had a need to apologize.”
Caroline wasn’t sure what she was expected to say.
“I mention it,” Mrs. Cho explained, “because this afternoon I was praying for you. I was thinking to myself, If I were married to a non-Christian, how would the devil use that to try to discourage my faith? This is what I realized. If I were married to an unbeliever, I think what I would be tempted to do is look at each and every thing
he did that bothered me—every fight, every little argument—and I would say to myself, If only my husband were a Christian, my life wouldn’t be so hard.”
She smiled softly. “I’m afraid that I’ve been around long enough on this earth to realize that there is no such thing as a perfect marriage. Even between two believers. My husband and I were both young when we married, and as much as we loved each other (and still do, I must say), we both acted selfishly more times than I could ever remember. But we learned to confess our sins to each other and offer forgiveness when necessary.”
Caroline nodded, wondering what use a marriage lesson was to her now that she and her husband were separated.
“You came here against your husband’s wishes because you sensed God was calling you to serve him, no?”
The pointedness of the question made the skin on the back of Caroline’s neck bristle and put her instantly on the defensive.
“I understand,” Mrs. Cho added before she could respond, “how difficult it must be to live with a man who doesn’t share your commitment to the Lord. But even if you can’t agree on matters of faith or religion, I wonder if there is still love in your heart for him. Forgiveness and grace that can carry you through the difficult times ahead.”
Caroline wasn’t sure how to respond. Why was she being lectured all of a sudden?
“I can see that I’m upsetting you.” Mrs. Cho stood up. “I’m sorry if I’ve become too preachy. But my heart hurts when I think of what you and your husband must be going through.”
Again, Caroline was left uncertain as to what to say.
“Let’s not talk about it any more, at least for now.” Mrs. Cho’s suggestion was more than welcome. “But I want you to know that I will continue to pray for you, for God to show you how to be a light to your husband in spite of the hardness of his heart.”