by Alana Terry
How had she felt after her introduction in the prison camp? It was so long ago she could scarcely remember the guard or the circumstances surrounding their union. What she did remember, however, was the taste of the rice she ate afterward.
She had never been in Sun’s situation. She had been conceived in Camp 22, never stepping foot outside its electric fence until she escaped with Pang just a few weeks earlier. For most of her life, she lived like an orphan with dozens of other girls. Her friends from the dorm were the closest thing she had to a family. She always knew her body was not her own; her school teachers and overseers from the gulag could strike or abuse her whenever they saw fit. Many girls just withered away. They grew weak. They couldn’t handle the suffering, and so they eventually died. The methods varied remarkably, but in the end it didn’t matter. They died just the same. Mee-Kyong had vowed to survive, and so far she had. Her spirit was toughened by a lifetime of calluses, calluses Sun had never needed to develop. Mee-Kyong wondered what she should say to ease the child’s mind. She knocked on the door once more and finally opened it.
Sun lay face-down in the bathtub, her black hair billowing up on top of the water. Mee-Kyong ran to the body. She’s dead, and it’s your fault.
Mee-Kyong tried to ignore the angry shrieks of her conscience. She was only trying to help, and she would have continued to do so. The wimpy child just wasn’t patient enough. Mee-Kyong was hardly to blame. Stupid girl. Yes, of course she was hurt. Of course she was ashamed. But hadn’t Mee-Kyong told her it would get easier?
Mee-Kyong glared at Sun’s narrow shoulders. Her bones were as brittle as sand. The girl couldn’t even withstand her introduction. And Mee-Kyong had been seeing one customer after another, taking on extra men to give Sun a chance to be broken in easily. She had done so, despite being still torn and injured from childbirth. And Sun couldn’t even manage to live through her first customer.
Pitiful.
Mee-Kyong pulled the girl’s face out of the water and could still smell the liquor on her breath. Stupid child. Stupid, ignorant, naïve child. If Sun couldn’t survive an introduction, how did she think she’d ever make it to adulthood? Pathetic baby. Whatever puny mistreatment Sun suffered in one night was nothing compared to the lifetime of horror and despair Mee-Kyong endured in Camp 22. Had she flung herself into the bathtub as soon as things got painful? Ignoring the hot tears that spilled down her cheeks, she slapped Sun’s face.
Sun opened her eyes, turned her face, and vomited into the water. Mee-Kyong wanted to hug the girl and hated herself for it. “I told you it would get better. Why didn’t you listen to me?”
Sun’s lip quivered, but Mee-Kyong was thankful that the child didn’t cry. “I slipped in the tub. It was an accident.” She lowered her eyes.
Mee-Kyong raised an eyebrow, but she wasn’t going to argue. It wouldn’t kill anyone to let Sun keep at least a shred of dignity after all she had been through. There wouldn’t be much dignity in the days and weeks to follow. “It gets easier,” Mee-Kyong breathed. “I promise.”
Sun turned her head but didn’t look at her. “It was kind of you to save me.”
Mee-Kyong studied Sun and decided the girl deserved some honesty for once. “I didn’t think you were still alive.” She looked at Sun until the girl met her gaze. “Otherwise, I might not have.”
PART 2
CHAPTER 13
Juliette Stern ran the brush through the young woman’s hair. “Are you nervous?” She could barely ask the question without her voice squeaking.
“If God’s will is for me to leave, how could I be worried?” Hannah’s image in the mirror reminded Juliette of the Met’s sculpture of Saint Margaret, the sixteenth-century martyr. She wondered how someone so young could know what was coming and remain so serene. After growing up in Seoul as the American ambassador’s daughter, Juliette’s Korean was nearly impeccable. Tonight, however, she couldn’t even express in English her love for Hannah and the other students she was sending off.
“You know you’ll be missed.” Juliette lowered her voice. “By more than just Mr. Stern and me.”
Hannah didn’t blush, but Juliette noticed her bite the corner of her lip. Eve, the Sterns’ housekeeper, slipped her head into the room. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but Mr. Stern just called from the office. He said he’s a little late. He expects to be home in twenty minutes or less.”
Juliette nodded, both in thanks and in dismissal. “Thank you. We’ll start when he gets here.” Eve shut the door, and Juliette thought about the students they would commission as soon as Roger got home. Would she ever know what happened to them ... which were to experience a full life of ministry and impact, and which were doomed to imprisonment and death? The Sterns wouldn’t have any contact with the students once they returned to North Korea. There was a finality to this farewell that made it even more poignant than sending her college-bound daughter back to the States a few weeks earlier.
Crossing her arms, she sighed. “I’ll get your robe from the closet.” Her husband had scoffed at the idea, but Juliette purchased caps and gowns for the Secret Seminary students. After the uncounted hours of labor these young people had poured into their training, Juliette insisted on providing this special touch. She also hired two extra workers to help Eve prepare a send-off feast, since God alone knew how the students would manage to feed themselves once they crossed the border and returned to North Korea. But she would think about more positive things tonight. She forced herself to smile at Hannah, whose hands were folded in her lap as if in perpetual prayer. Juliette cleared her throat and forced chipper confidence into her tone. “Let’s finish getting you ready.”
***
Roger Stern steeled himself against the breeze and hurried past the lane of houses. His neighborhood was peopled almost exclusively with expats, mostly European or American businessmen like himself. He tightened his beige pea coat against his chest and pressed on.
Of all the days for one of his printers to fry on him, it had to be today. Not only was his wife planning a huge ceremony and elaborate buffet to send the Secret Seminary students off, but he needed to ship out his largest order of the quarter by tomorrow for it to arrive in New York on schedule. Roger would have to go back to the office right after the graduation ended and probably pull an all-nighter to guarantee the books got out in time.
What a day. Of course, Juliette had to get herself so wrapped up in this ceremony she went so far as to order caps and gowns for the students they were sending out. Caps and gowns — as if the graduates’ decision to return to the most hostile mission field on the globe was a reason to celebrate. On the other hand, it was exactly something his wife would dream up. She was never one to do things small-scale. When their daughter Kennedy asked to ride a horse a decade earlier, Juliette didn’t take her to the kiddie corral for a five-minute spin on the pony-go-round. No, Juliette made arrangements for their eight-year-old to take riding lessons for the entire school year, and that summer would have convinced Roger to buy Kennedy a horse of her own if they hadn’t already been packing up their things to move to China.
Roger waved to his security man, Benjamin, who lately had been doubling as a landscaper, and strode into his house. The scent of soy sauce and ginger wafted through the entryway in greeting, along with the tantalizing sound of meat sizzling in the kitchen. He wondered at the irony of this feast even as his mouth watered. Wasn’t it cruel in a way to stuff the graduates with such fine cooking just hours before they crossed the border into a land ravaged by famine and scarcity? He inhaled deeply and wondered if all cultures had a last-meal tradition for their condemned.
“Hello, Eve.” Roger handed his hat and scarf to the housekeeper. “Is Mrs. Stern already in the den?” Eve nodded, and he headed upstairs. Since he was late, he expected to find the students already in their ridiculous graduation get-ups and was surprised to find the den empty except for Simon. Upon entry to the Secret Seminary, each refugee was given a new name. Their christening ser
ved as a reflection of their new identity as Christian believers as well as a safeguard for those who had illegally crossed the border into China.
“Hello, Mr. Stern.” Simon bowed his head, and the tassel on his graduation cap toppled into his eye.
Roger grinned as the young man fiddled with the mess of strings. “Here, let me straighten that up for you.”
Simon thanked him and shrugged his shoulders. “I think Mrs. Stern ordered these in American sizes.” He held up his arms to show his sleeves, which hung so far down they covered his hands completely.
Roger patted him on the back. “A tradition. When a student works hard enough to earn his degree, the people in charge want to make sure he’s as uncomfortable as possible so he doesn’t sleep through his own graduation.”
Simon returned the smile, but his eyes were fixed on the door. Roger glanced behind him. “Are you expecting someone?” A deep, almost maroon blush crept up the sides of Simon’s face. “I take it then that you haven’t talked with her?” Roger asked.
Simon rubbed his forehead. “Who?”
Roger wondered how much redder the man’s face could grow. “I think we both know who we’re talking about. Or do you want me to force that blush all the way up to your eyebrows by saying her name?”
“Don’t!” Simon let out an awkward chuckle, but his stare never wavered.
“Fine,” Roger agreed. “I’m sorry. But tell me now. Did you have a chance to talk with ... with a certain graduate we’ve discussed before at length?”
Simon’s head wagged from side to side like the tail of that little yippy Schnauzer Juliette bought for their daughter so many years ago. Roger put his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “You’re running out of time, don’t you think? Are you going to wait until after the ceremony to talk to her?” Simon’s head continued on its horizontal track. Roger felt dizzy just trying to maintain eye contact. “You’ll never know if you never ask.”
Simon lowered his eyes. “It’s not that. I asked her already.”
Roger raised his eyebrows. “And?”
Simon sighed. “She’s got her heart set on going home.”
“She’s a very brave young woman.”
“The bravest.”
Roger stared straight at Simon. “You don’t want to leave, do you?”
Simon didn’t meet his gaze. “I hate to think of what might happen to her. She’s so young. So innocent. And she’s going out all by herself ...”
Roger didn’t feel like rehashing all the reasons it was safer to send the graduates out solo instead of in groups. “So she won’t change her mind, then? Even after you talked with her?”
“No.”
“And you told her everything? Including how you feel?”
Simon lowered his gaze until Roger could only see his eyelids. “I told her I didn’t want to see her hurt.”
“But did you tell her how you feel about her?” Roger pressed.
Simon threw both hands up. His sleeves cascaded down to his shoulders. “She must know it by now.”
Roger shook his head. He would have smiled at the young man’s fears if the issue weren’t far more complicated than a simple crush. Lives were at stake. And once the graduates left tonight, they wouldn’t be coming back. Roger thought about when he first met Juliette, how terrified he had been, how convinced he was that a girl so confident and beautiful and sophisticated deserved to find someone well-off and well-bred, someone exactly the opposite of him. It had taken him three months just to work up the nerve to invite her to the movies. Sometimes Roger wondered what might have happened if he had never found his courage. He was about to respond to Simon when two other graduates entered the den, their tasseled caps painfully askew and their limbs completely swallowed up by their billowy gowns.
“Well, I guess it’s time,” Roger sighed.
“Yeah,” Simon agreed. “I guess it is.”
***
After the ceremony, Juliette handed the graduate a small envelope. “I can’t even begin to describe how proud I am of you, Brother Simon.” He lowered his head. Although he was only in his mid-twenties, Simon was one of the oldest students graduating tonight. Juliette studied his features one last time. She had grown used to him knocking on their bedroom door at all hours of the night, impatient to ask her husband some deep theological question that couldn’t wait for morning. Simon was bright and quite skilled, so skilled the Sterns had even offered to help him relocate to the States and pastor a Korean-American church. He had refused.
Juliette tried to give him a parting smile, but she had to bite down to keep her chin from quivering. He bowed to her as he accepted the money. “May God bless you for your generosity,” he whispered.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She had already shed enough tears during the ceremony itself. She didn’t want the graduates’ last memory of her to be maudlin. After all, she was the one staying here in the relative safety of Yanji. She took a deep, quivering breath.
“It’s been an honor and a joy to see you grow,” she finally managed to murmur, but Simon wasn’t looking at her. He stood with his hands limp by his side, gaping at Hannah, whose singing during the ceremony was what had set off Juliette’s tears in the first place. Juliette observed him discreetly as he walked up to the young woman, who stood by the window that overlooked the Sterns’ garden.
He stood behind her for an awkward moment and then cleared his throat. “So I suppose this is good-bye.”
Juliette lowered her gaze but still heard Hannah’s sweet soprano in reply. “There are no good-byes in the kingdom of heaven.”
Juliette turned away to give them some privacy. This wasn’t the kingdom of heaven yet, but she wasn’t about to break the news to the young couple.
***
Roger’s belly threatened to pop the button right off his pants, but he put on his overcoat and leaned over to kiss his wife on the cheek. “That was a wonderful feast, Baby Cakes.”
She pouted. “You going already?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I’ve got to get that order ready to go out tomorrow.” He pecked her once more on the other cheek and then left before she could voice any more arguments. It was chilly, and Roger thought about the graduates who would be crossing the Tumen River into North Korea.
Roger waved good-bye to his security guard who was raking the front lawn. Benjamin was a whole head taller than the other refugees, which is why he worked security. It wasn’t necessarily the thugs and thieves Roger worried about. Most of them didn’t bother with the high-end neighborhoods. But the Sterns’ work with North Korean refugees was technically illegal and not something the Chinese would approve of if they caught wind of it.
So far, the Sterns had done what they could to remain in the good graces of the Chinese bureaucrats. They submitted all their paperwork on time and took excessive pains to make sure everything stayed in impeccable order. Still, Roger was grateful he didn’t have to leave his wife and young housekeeper unprotected. He lifted the collar of his coat up against the breeze and headed back to work.
***
Juliette ran the vacuum mindlessly over the leftover confetti from the graduation party. Eve would have done it later, but she was busy cleaning up the kitchen. Besides, Juliette welcomed the physical activity to keep her mind off her worries.
Simon left just a few minutes earlier. The other young men had departed one by one after dinner, taking various routes to the Tumen River. From now on, they were on their own, with only the Holy Spirit for guidance and companionship. Juliette hoped that would be enough.
Hannah hadn’t moved from her position at the window since Simon’s departure. There had been no tearful parting, no intense farewell. Juliette recalled the angle of Simon’s shoulders as he walked out of the den, the glint of a tear she had pretended not to notice shining in his eye. Juliette turned off the vacuum. She walked up to Hannah and touched her gently on the shoulder. “You have everything packed and ready?”
Hannah squeezed her eyes shut for a mome
nt before turning from the garden view. “Yes.” Her voice betrayed more emotion than her face revealed. Hannah cleared her throat. “I’ll be ready in a minute,” she replied more steadily and turned back to her vigil over the flowerbeds and herbs that were showing signs of the cooling autumn weather.
“Take your time.” Juliette secretly hoped the young woman would change her mind. When she straightened after picking up a fallen string from a tassel, Hannah was there, staring at the floor and shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she clutched her envelope in a steady hand. Had Hannah’s courage failed her? How could someone in Juliette’s position possibly blame her? Hannah was only nineteen years old. Of all the girls who enrolled in the Sterns’ Secret Seminary twelve months ago, Hannah was the only one who lasted through the crisis training. The others dropped out of the program, opting instead for safe passage to South Korea, which the Sterns helped arrange with some of the funds from Roger’s printing business.
“Have you changed your mind, then?” Her husband would be upset, but Juliette would sleep better tonight knowing Hannah was far from her homeland, where raids, undercover spies, and starvation were only the beginning of a young missionary’s worries.
Hannah nodded and fingered the envelope. In an instant, Juliette understood the awkward dilemma. Upon graduation from the Secret Seminary, the students each received a sum of money to survive their first few months back in North Korea. “It’s the money, isn’t it?” Juliette tried to make things as painless for the young girl as possible. She didn’t want Hannah to feel ashamed for choosing the less dangerous route. Even in South Korea, Hannah could find meaningful work to put her discipleship training to use.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Stern.” She bowed and held the envelope out with both hands.