The Beloved Daughter

by Alana Terry

  Redeemed

  “O Israel, put your hope in the LORD, for with the LORD is unfailing love and with him is full redemption. He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.” Psalm 130:7-8

  “Sister!” Kwan greeted. I didn’t have to feign my relief as he hugged me. The officer spoke with my husband in Mandarin and handed him a large sum of money, all the while continuing to bow obsequiously toward us both.

  Once we were alone in the car driving toward Sanhe I turned to my husband. “I thought you were dead!”

  “Dead?” Kwan’s eyes opened wide before narrowing in anger. “So he told you I was dead? That fool of a traitor!”

  “Mr. Kim?”

  “Who else? The same man who sold you for eight hundred yuan while I was out risking my life to save his daughter.”

  “So you weren’t shot?”

  “No.”

  “Arrested?”

  Kwan snorted. “Not quite.”

  “What happened then?” I asked.

  “So-Young was kidnapped on the way to the nurse’s.”

  “By whom? The police?”

  “No. Mr. Kim never allowed me to tell you, but he and So-Young are not really from Seoul. They are from South Hwanghae Province, North Korea. After they arrived in Sanhe, Mr. Kim had their papers changed to show Chinese residency and citizenship.”

  “So-Young never told me.”

  “That’s because she didn’t know,” Kwan remarked. “She was very young when they came across the border. She suffered much in her homeland and doesn’t remember anything from her time in North Korea.” I thought of my friend, so gentle and so mature. I wondered how much she endured before finally escaping to Jilin Province.

  “What does this have to do with the kidnapping?”

  “Someone found out the Kims were in Sanhe illegally. It was all a trap, even the sick baby. They caught So-Young on the way to the nurse’s, then sent word to Mr. Kim demanding ransom money.” I thought about my four days alone in the deserted cabin on the mountainside, when I was so anxious over So-Young’s safety.

  “Is that what compelled Mr. Kim to turn me in?”

  In the passenger seat beside my husband, I winced as Kwan maneuvered the steering wheel with one hand and tugged on his knuckles with the other. “I went out to negotiate with So-Young’s captors. I couldn’t return to you earlier because the safe house was being watched. Mr. Kim was supposed to go to the cabin and bring you more food and tell you to wait a few more days. I never suspected he would do something as spineless and cowardly as sell you to the police for bribe money.”

  “Is So-Young safe now?”

  “She was already safe before Mr. Kim returned from betraying you on the mountaintop. I told the brutes responsible for the kidnapping that we would leave the region and give them the title to the safe house. We were all going to leave for South Korea. The plan would have worked out wonderfully. You, me, Mr. Kim, and So-Young … we could have all been in Seoul by now if it weren't for that dog’s greedy, underhanded treachery.”

  “But now everybody is out of harm’s way?” I pressed, clutching Kwan’s forearm.

  “They didn’t hurt So-Young, if that’s what you’re anxious about. She and her coward of a father are already in South Korea. They wanted me to come along as well, but I said that I would wait here for you, even if the kidnappers took over the house, and I had to live out on the streets.”

  I never remember feeling so much respect and admiration for my husband. “But why would Mr. Kim tell me you were dead?” I wondered.

  “Perhaps he imagined he was being merciful to you.” Kwan spat out his open window. “Maybe he thought if you believed that your husband was dead, it would make it easier to face all that abuse and torture he sold you into. It makes no sense to me.”

  “He was thinking about So-Young. Parents will do many things for the children they love.” I wished that I could tell Kwan about the officer who rescued me, but I didn’t know if even that was safe. There were so many questions I didn’t ask Moses, so many things we didn’t have time to discuss. “You know that Mr. Kim ended up using the ransom money to buy me a Chinese passport and residency papers, don’t you?” I asked my husband.

  Kwan shrugged. “If he hadn’t sold you, he wouldn’t have needed to. He was lucky that Mo …” My husband stopped himself mid-sentence and rubbed his cheek. “He was lucky that he knew someone who could help.”

  Kwan was silent. I tried to think of something to say to lift his spirits. “I’ve never seen you drive a car,” I remarked, trying to sound light-hearted. “It suits you well.”

  “I wouldn’t have had to drive it all the way out here if it weren’t …” Kwan’s voice drifted off, and he glared at the winding road.

  “At least now we can go to South Korea directly since I have a valid passport.” Kwan clenched his jaw and said nothing. “After all,” I added, touching my husband’s hand, “our baby will need to grow up in a safe place, away from all the guards and police and surprise raids.”

  Kwan turned to look at me until I was certain he was about to drive the car off the road. “Baby?” Kwan swerved at the last minute to straighten out the vehicle before it hit a tree.

  I smiled at my husband, basking in his open admiration and surprise. As we drove back to Sanhe, my heart was filled with more hope than I thought possible when I woke up that morning a prisoner in the Onsong jail.

  PART SIX

  Seoul

  South Korea

  Called

  “When you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” John 21:18

  I smiled in spite of my exhaustion as the chubby toddler tickled my belly. My back ached, and my ankles were so swollen my shoes didn’t fit anymore. It was a miracle I could even walk.

  “Baby! Baby! Wake up, Baby!” the almost three-year-old sang and blew a kiss on my abdomen. Since there was no longer any room for sitting on my lap, the girl from Mrs. Cho’s South-Korean orphanage cuddled next to me on the couch.

  “Auntie Chung-Cha?” asked her twin, pulling my arm. She was the more vocal of the two sisters, and much more serious as well. “When can I hold your baby?”

  “Not yet.” I stroked her jet black hair. It was just long enough for me to tie up in two short pig tails. “You have to wait until Baby is born.”

  Mrs. Cho entered the room, and the girls stopped touching my belly. “Look at these pillows.” Mrs. Cho shook her head. She clucked her tongue at the girls and suppressed a grin. “You pick them up right now.” The twins jumped off the couch to obey, but as soon as the pillows were in their proper places, the sisters cuddled next to me once more, rubbing my abdomen whenever Mrs. Cho happened to look away.

  “Can I help you with anything?” I offered my benefactress, earning my own glare of disapproval from Mrs. Cho. Since I arrived at her home in Seoul nearly five months earlier, the orphanage matron refused to let me assist her in any household work. My days were filled resting and playing with the orphans for as long as my limited energy would allow. “You need practice with children,” Mrs. Cho often reminded me with a grandmotherly smile.

  “Auntie! Auntie!” The little girl’s pigtails bobbed up and down as she tried to get my attention. “Why isn’t Uncle home?” She pouted.

  “Uncle Kwan had to go away. He’ll be back soon.” I tried to sound cheerful, but I don’t think I succeeded. Mrs. Cho came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders.

  “Come out now, Baby!” her sister commanded to my midsection, raising her voice and pursing her lips together. She put her hands on her hips.

  “The baby isn’t ready to come out yet,” the pigtailed twin scolded, then turned to me as Mrs. Cho repositioned a barrette in her hair. “Will Uncle Kwan be home when Baby’s born?”

  “Hopefully,” I sighed, although with each passing day and each contraction of false labor, it became harder and harder to hold on to hope.

  Kwan returned to China t
hirteen days after we arrived at Mrs. Cho’s orphanage in Seoul. Those two weeks we spent together brought with them the sweetness of new marriage that we could never find for ourselves in Sanhe. It probably didn’t hurt that we had spent the past three weeks separated, convinced we would never be together again. In Seoul, safe from the threat of raids and repatriation, Kwan and I did very little but talk and dream together about the child we conceived.

  “He’ll be strong,” Kwan told me. “Like your father.”

  “Perhaps it’s a girl.”

  “Then she’ll be beautiful,” Kwan declared, “like you.”

  Unfortunately, the bliss Kwan and I experienced once we were finally safe in South Korea was short-lived.

  “Pastor Tong was arrested again,” my husband told me only a week and a half after we arrived in Seoul.

  I was frightened by the determined look etched in Kwan’s face. “Is it a harsh sentence?”

  “Life.” When Kwan wrapped his arm around me, I realized I was trembling.

  “Who’s left to care for the church?”

  “Mr. Kim is already here in South Korea.” Kwan cracked his knuckles. “Not that I would trust that double-crossing dog to offer spiritual care to anyone.”

  “So who does that leave back in Sanhe?” I wondered why this news sent chills up my spine.

  “That pastor’s son.” Kwan sat on our bed next to me. “He’s now the only one.” Kwan stared at me for so long I finally looked down at the floor.

  “I’m going back,” he announced, in that instant curtailing whatever honeymoon period we enjoyed.

  Kwan stood up. “I’ll do everything in my power to return before autumn.” That promise was made nearly five months ago. Sitting on Mrs. Cho’s couch beside the two twins, I watched out the window while some of the older children played outside in the snow. I leaned my cheek against one of the girl’s head and thought about the last time I saw my husband. He came into our room just moments before his cab was scheduled to take him to the airport.

  “I’ll be back soon.” Kwan brushed a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “And then there will be plenty of time to massage your back once your belly is large and swollen.”

  “Why are you leaving at all?” I forced myself to take a deep breath. I didn’t want Kwan to see me panic.

  “They need me there.”

  “You’re not their savior.”

  I tried to turn away, but Kwan held me against his chest. In Seoul I was always surprised at Kwan’s protective love now that we were expecting our first child. I despised myself for not encouraging him more in his work for the Lord. I wanted to keep my husband here with me and forget about our pasts.

  “I’m sorry,” I admitted. “I just wish you didn’t have to go.” Kwan leaned over and kissed the top of my head. His hand rested on my abdomen, and he rubbed it gently.

  “I’ll be back soon. I’ll take two months to help train some new leaders, then I’ll return in time to see my wife grow large and plump. Think of all the children here eager to play with Auntie. You’ll hardly notice that I’m missing.” With his free hand, Kwan ran his fingers through my hair.

  “What if something happens?” Away from Sanhe and the constant terror of surprise raids and repatriation, I grew even more dependent on my husband.

  Kwan held me close. “God will take care of us.” I cringed. Didn’t Father make the same promise so many years ago?

  I handed Kwan his passport and travel papers. Kwan leaned over and whispered to our child tucked away in my womb, “I love you, precious one.”

  You see, beloved daughter, that even as he was getting ready to leave in order to fulfill the work of the Lord, your father was thinking about you. Before you were born, he adored you – the precious daughter he would never meet.

  Beloved

  “Let the beloved of the LORD rest secure in him, for he shields him all day long.” Deuteronomy 33:12

  With Kwan gone, there was nothing for me to do but rest and play with Mrs. Cho’s rescued children. Even with my young compatriots vying for my attention, I fretted about Kwan for whole hours at a time. “You need to stop worrying,” Mrs. Cho admonished. “Your baby knows when you’re anxious.” Mrs. Cho worked as a midwife before she started the orphanage. She promised Kwan that she would care for me with utmost skill and competence while he was away.

  A month after his departure, Kwan wrote to tell me that he wouldn’t be home by September as he first planned. In addition to training leaders for the Sanhe church, Kwan was asked to teach in an underground seminary for the entire border region of Jilin Province. He spent October and November out of phone contact. During that time I received one letter to assure me that he was still safe. In December, Kwan tried to return to Seoul, but by then his paperwork was expired, and he had to wait until he could come up with the appropriate bribe money to return home.

  My first real contractions began on the second Thursday in January. Kwan sent me an international calling card so I could let him know when the time came, but Mrs. Cho guessed that the labor would be prolonged. She didn’t want me to call my husband right away. When I finally gave birth on Saturday morning, Mrs. Cho cut the umbilical cord and held up a slimy, flailing little girl. After wrapping her in a small blanket, Mrs. Cho handed me my baby and walked toward the phone on the far side of the room. “And now you can call your husband.”

  Mrs. Cho found the calling card from Kwan and dialed the numbers. “It’s connecting,” she announced. My daughter began to turn her mouth toward me. As eager as I was to hear my husband’s voice and tell him about our precious baby girl, I also wished Mrs. Cho would show me what I was supposed to do with a hungry newborn.

  After nearly a minute, Mrs. Cho hung up the phone. “No answer.” When she saw my daughter rubbing her cheek against my chest, she laughed. “A healthy appetite!” After several failed attempts, Mrs. Cho finally succeeded in attaching my baby to my breast.

  “Are those tears of happiness or sorrow?” Mrs. Cho asked as I nursed my daughter for the first time.

  I couldn’t explain to my elderly benefactress the emotions I was experiencing. I was exhausted from my three-day labor and surprised that my daughter didn’t look anything like the other infants I cared for. I never saw a baby so fresh from the womb before. I didn’t expect my daughter to have such a skeletal frame or pointed skull, and I could only wonder why her skin was covered with a fine layer of soft gray fuzz.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. The joy of new life was clouded with overwhelming anxiety. I ached to present our firstborn to my husband, to smile as I watched Kwan hold her for the first time. Instead I wrapped my arms even more tightly around my daughter.

  Mrs. Cho patted my head. “You should rest now,” she instructed, leaving me alone to wonder if my child would ever meet her father face to face.

  Mrs. Cho tried several more times that day and the next to call Kwan at the pastor’s house in Sanhe. She never got through.

  “Well,” suggested Mrs. Cho after three days of silence, “perhaps they are so busy getting your husband’s paperwork in order that they have no time for phone calls.” She smiled at me. I clung to my daughter, staring into her eyes which looked so much like Kwan’s.

  “Father will be here soon,” I whispered in her ear.

  “What will you name her?”

  Kwan and I never discussed baby names; we both assumed he would return home to Seoul months before the birth. I was about to beg for more time so Kwan could help me decide, but as our daughter stared at me with alert, black eyes, I knew what name to choose. “Ae-Cha,” I declared, “so that everyone will know that she is our beloved daughter.”

  Mrs. Cho nodded in approval.

  Days turned to weeks, and there was still no word from Kwan. I mailed him letters, even pictures of our growing child. Day and night I prayed for my husband’s safety. When Ae-Cha was awake, I folded her hands together as if she were also asking God for her father’s protection.

&nb
sp; Mrs. Cho continued to bustle around the orphanage, letting me sleep in late, keeping the other children quiet so I could nap with Ae-Cha in the afternoons. In all respects, I was more like a boarder than a hired help. I was still weak from the delivery, and even though Ae-Cha slept well at night, I could barely find the strength for swaddling or diaper changing during the day.

  I was resting with Ae-Cha in bed with me one afternoon when Mrs. Cho came in. “A letter,” she announced. Her voice trembled. “From Sanhe.”

  I didn’t recognize the handwriting on the envelope. Before opening it, I bundled up my sleeping daughter in her blanket and held her close against me. Her hair was thick and black. A good omen, I liked to think. I opened the letter and glanced at the signature. It was from the pastor’s son in Sanhe.

  Sister Chung-Cha,

  I deeply regret that I must give you this difficult news. When your husband came to help me carry out my father’s work in Sanhe, he knew that it was dangerous. It was nearly three weeks ago when I returned home and found the inside of my house ransacked. Your husband was home alone that day. I do not know where he is, although I am trying to find out. I would have written sooner, but your husband informed me of your condition and told me that if anything happened to him, I was not to contact you until well after your delivery date. I will write more as soon as I receive news.

  Your servant,

  Tong Dae-Jung

  Mrs. Cho didn’t have to read the letter to guess its nature. I buried my face in my daughter’s silky hair and rocked her back and forth as I prayed for the man I had grown to love, the man I would never see again on this side of heaven.

  Omen

  “From birth I was cast upon you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God.” Psalm 22:10