Stolen (A Prairie Heritage, Book 5) Page 6

  From a world of care and trouble,

  In His presence calm and sweet.

  Sweet stillness of heaven around me I feel,

  While low at the cross of my Jesus I kneel.

  At the cross of Jesus bowing,

  Here I count my blessings o’er;

  Here I drink from life’s pure fountain,

  Drink until I thirst no more.

  Sweet stillness of heaven around me I feel,

  While low at the cross of my Jesus I kneel.

  Liáng fell to his knees. O God, you have brought me here today to revive my soul and to advance your great purposes. Speak to me, Lord, and I will obey. Reveal your plan, O Lord, and I will follow.

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 5

  The church emptied slowly after the service ended. Some of those who had come to the altar were still praying, and many in the congregation were reluctant to leave the sweet time of fellowship. Liáng introduced himself to a few of the Chinese families milling about and heard glowing testimonies about the move of God in their lives.

  Eventually the Palmer House residents assembled for the walk back home. Mei-Xing, Joy, and Grant had already made their way outside to their waiting automobile. Liáng motioned Rose aside for a word.

  “Madam Thoresen, if you do not mind, Bao and I would like to speak to Pastor Carmichael when he is available. We will find our way back to our hotel afterward.”

  They both glanced toward the front of the church where Carmichael was praying for a few latecomers to the altar. Bao still knelt there.

  Liáng paused. He noticed Breona was at the front also, engaged in earnest conversation with a young woman.

  “Breona has a tremendous heart for women bound in prostitution,” Rose murmured. “We will not leave until she is ready.”

  Liáng nodded. The young woman Breona spoke to dabbed at her eyes with a hanky. Breona said something and the woman nodded. They bowed their heads together and prayed.

  Liáng felt like he was invading their privacy but could not tear his eyes away. Eventually they finished and, to his surprise, Breona led the woman toward them.

  Breona nodded at him before saying, “Miss Rose, this is Edith. Miss Edith, please t’ be meetin’ Miss Rose, what runs our home.”

  The girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, had curling brown hair and dark eyes. Haunted eyes.

  Breona said carefully, “Edith be livin’ at th’ Silver Spurs, Miss Rose.”

  Liáng noticed as a tiny shudder ran through Rose Thoresen, and he saw a flash of communication pass from Breona to Rose and back.

  “Yes, I understand,” Rose whispered. “Dear Edith, will you tell me what you experienced this morning?”

  Edith opened her mouth but had to wipe her eyes again before she could speak. “I-I am not sure how to say it, ma’am. I hate my life and hate . . . what I do. I cried out to Jesus to help me and it feels like he has touched me. Oh! I never want to go back! But where else can I go?”

  The young woman trembled from head to toe so violently that Liáng feared she would collapse. Rose must have thought the same thing for she placed her arms around the woman and held her.

  “God has heard your prayers, Edith. Are you willing to forsake everything, even leave behind all possessions you may have at the Silver Spurs? Are you willing to leave Denver, if necessary, to make a new start?”

  “Oh, yes! Please don’t make me go back there! I will gladly leave behind the few things I have to get away from there.”

  Liáng did not quite understand what was being negotiated between the two women or the concern that passed between Mrs. Thoresen and Breona. He felt a soft tap on his arm and turned. Isaac Carmichael gestured him away.

  “I am glad you stayed, my friend,” Carmichael said.

  “Thank you, but I was waiting for you! Would you be available to take a meal with us, Bao and I?”

  Carmichael looked toward the altar where Bao still knelt. “God is doing a deep work in that young man.”

  “I am glad,” Liáng confessed. “He has done terrible things but he has also suffered greatly. Just a few months ago he lost his wife and son in childbirth. The guilt and condemnation that hell pours on sinners has been his constant, tormenting companion.”

  “He is the one then? The one who betrayed Mei-Xing?” When Liáng nodded, Carmichael again looked to where Bao knelt praying, “Then God is indeed doing a deep work—a glorious thing.”

  Liáng looked at Carmichael. “When we arrived two days ago, I shared with Mei-Xing how God has used Bao’s evil deed to bring five people to the Savior—her, her parents, Mr. O’Dell, and now Bao himself.

  “You see, the day I met Bao, he was ready to confess all to her parents and, afterwards, kill himself. But now that he is reborn in Christ, he is in fear that his new life will be taken from him, for Su-Chong Chen’s mother, Fang-Hua, has ordered his death.”

  Carmichael’s eyes widened. “That is a lot to take in.”

  “It is—and I must tell you, I cannot, in good conscience, take Bao back to Seattle. I am hoping to find a place for him to start over—far from Seattle and from the eyes and ears that report to Fang-Hua.”

  One corner of Carmichael’s mouth turned up and he clasped Liáng’s arm. “Well! Then we have much to talk of over our dinner. I believe in a God who arranges people’s comings and goings to fit his plans—as you do, I think.”

  Liáng saw the Palmer House folk ready themselves to leave. It looked as though Edith would be going with them.

  Liáng turned to say something to Carmichael—who was also watching the Palmer House women. Or one of them, anyway.

  Just then Breona slanted her eyes toward Liáng and Carmichael. Liáng offered a half bow, but Carmichael grinned foolishly at the feisty Irish girl. She jerked her gaze away, but not before Liáng saw a red stain flooding up her neck to her cheeks.

  Carmichael chuckled and tipped back on his heels.

  “So! You favor the one called Breona?” Liáng queried.

  “That I do. That I do,” Carmichael responded, still smiling. “She is brave and strong and loves the Lord.” He shook his head. “But I have little to offer her at present.”

  “That will change, I am sure!” Liáng encouraged.

  They watched Bao rise and look about himself, surprised, it seemed, to see that the warehouse was nearly empty.

  “Let us find a good, hot meal, shall we?” Liáng asked. “I have so much to ask you!”

  The three men walked to a small, nondescript diner Carmichael frequented, one of only a few in Denver open on Sundays.

  “I am a terrible cook,” Carmichael laughed, “so Miss Betty sees me often! We have become friends in this last year.”

  “Miss Betty,” it turned out, was a stern, hatchet-faced woman Liáng judged to be in her sixties. She gave them a gruff greeting and plopped menus in front of them.

  “Don’t let her bark discourage you,” Carmichael whispered. “Her cooking is excellent and she has a very tender heart.”

  As they waited for their food, Carmichael and Liáng spoke nonstop on many topics. It was during dinner that Liáng began to pepper Carmichael with the questions to which his heart demanded answers.

  “How is it possible that such diverse people can worship together as one? I have never seen such a thing! And to see people of the street coming to the Lord Jesus in such numbers!”

  Carmichael shook his head. “I do not know how it has come to be, other than I commit myself to bring the word to those I know who need it. Even the well-off are being touched and transformed.”

  “But Pastor Carmichael, when I compare the move of God I saw this morning to my church and ministry I am in awe and, to be truthful, ashamed. The worship! The effectiveness of the preaching! I tell you sincerely, my church is tepid and apathetic and my preaching without power in comparison.”

  Carmichael lowered his head. “You cannot attribute any of that to me, my friend. We are experiencing a sovereign move of God. I con
fess to you, that I can scarcely keep up with what the Lord is doing. The work is . . . daunting.”

  He turned to Bao, who was listening intently to their exchange. “Will you share with us what God accomplished in your heart this morning, friend?”

  Bao grew quiet and it was a long moment before he answered. “Minister Liáng can tell you of the horrible things I have done, sir. He will attest that I sincerely repented of my past life several weeks ago. But . . . but I could not escape the shame of my deeds . . . until this morning. I think—no, I know—that this day I encountered the Lord Jesus in the very core of my being, and he washed me in places where I had been terrified to even look.”

  Bao sighed softly. “I acknowledge now that, just as you said, nothing in all creation is hidden from him. He led me to relinquish even those parts of me I could not face, and he helped me to confront them and watch as he cleansed away all guilt. He asked me to surrender everything. Everything.”

  Carmichael grasped Bao’s shoulder. “Yes! To surrender all—the good and the ill—is the point where God through Christ meets us and confirms his work in us.”

  “To surrender all,” Liáng murmured. “How I long to do so!”

  “What would prevent that?” Carmichael inquired.

  “Sadly, my wealthy congregation would not tolerate a minister whose soul was entirely surrendered to the Lord.” Even as he spoke, Liáng realized that he was rapidly approaching a point of decision.

  “I must leave them,” he gasped. Wonder, regret, and relief intermingled in his words.

  Carmichael leaned toward Liáng. “Do you know, my friend, how many Chinese attend our services?” he whispered. “So many of them have been beaten down by life. They have no wealth, only a wealth of sorrow and pain. Very few speak English; those who do have many, many family members who would come to Christ if someone could speak their tongue—if one such as yourself would bring God’s word to them and shepherd them after their conversion.”

  Tears formed in Liáng’s eyes. “I would give my life to such a commission.”

  “Will you join with me then? Will you pray for the Lord’s leading to come to Denver and join me?”

  The power of the moment was not lost on any of them, and Bao looked between the two men, his expression eager. “Is there a place for me here? Minister Liáng has not said as much, but I know—for my safety—he wishes to see me away from Seattle permanently.

  “I have nothing left in that city—I cannot claim my home, my money, or my goods without drawing danger—so I relinquish them gladly. Is there some work I can do here? I will give myself to whatever the Lord requires, however common or lowly.”

  The three men had finished their dinner and spoke in excited whispers long after Miss Betty had removed their dishes. They planned and they prayed until Miss Betty cleared her throat.

  As Carmichael had warned, the restaurant’s gruff proprietor did have a bark, but she also showed that she had a soft spot for Pastor Carmichael. The three men had not ordered dessert, but Miss Betty plopped dishes of warm bread pudding, swimming in cream, in front of them.

  “Eat up,” she commanded. “Won’t have good food goin’ t’ waste.”

  Bao breathed in the aroma and clenched his spoon as if it might jump from his hands. He surprised Carmichael and Liáng by climbing to his feet and bowing to Miss Betty.

  “Lovely lady, I thank you for your generosity,” he told her in earnest. “I have not had bread pudding such as this since I was a child. The Lord bless you!”

  Miss Betty, flummoxed and speechless, shifted her weight from foot to foot, and finally muttered a feeble, “Well!” and fled to her kitchen.

  Liáng stared at Bao. He was devouring the pudding—just as he’d devoured his dinner, even extra dinner rolls.

  “My friend, it seems your appetite has returned,” Liáng observed. Carmichael stared, too, as Bao scraped clean his empty dish.

  “I cannot tell you how good this food is,” Bao replied. He eyed Liáng’s pudding and, when Liáng pushed it toward him, grinned and tucked into the warm, sweet confection.

  Liáng turned to Carmichael. “God has done a marvelous work today.” He tipped his head toward Bao, his friend who had not eaten with appetite in the many months Liáng had known him.

  While Carmichael, Liáng, and Bao were sharing their Sunday meal, so were those who lived at Palmer House. “Girls, this is Edith,” Rose announced.

  Edith blushed and looked down, even though most of the girls at Palmer House had already introduced themselves to the new arrival. Rose, however, wished to formalize Edith’s introduction and, at the same time, make plain to the girl the challenges she—and all of them—faced.

  “Edith may not be able to stay with us long,” Rose continued. “We will look to be sending her where we sent Esther and the others who came to us via the Silver Spurs.”

  At the mention of Silver Spurs, the table drew a collective breath, and all eyes again shifted to Edith. The owner of the Silver Spurs, Cal Judd, was a threat no one at Palmer House took lightly—least of all Tabitha.

  Tabitha sent a look of commiseration toward Edith. The girl appeared to be no more than sixteen, while Tabitha was in her late twenties. Tabitha and Edith’s paths at the Silver Spurs had not crossed; Tabitha had been rescued from the brothel more than a year ago. Nevertheless, Tabitha recognized a kindred wounded spirit in Edith.

  “Miss Rose, since Corrine and Jenny are sharing a room and I have a room to myself at present, I would be happy to have Edith as a roommate.”

  Rose smiled her appreciation. “Just what I was hoping to hear, Tabitha. Thank you. Would you please help her get settled after dinner? In the meantime, why don’t we have a discussion at the table about Palmer House and what our expectations are here?”

  Everyone was surprised when Jenny, herself new to Palmer House, eagerly spoke up. “Edith, we have Bible study at breakfast every morning! It is my favorite thing in the world.”

  After that, all the girls shared their understanding of their chores and responsibilities, the conditions of being part of Palmer House. Edith appeared a bit overwhelmed by it all, so Rose concluded, “That is probably enough for Edith at the moment, ladies.

  “I only wish to add that we operate our home as a family. We work as a family, take care of and respect each other, and treat each other with kindness—even when we have squabbles. And, yes, we do have our occasional squabbles. We also are not afraid to confess our faults to each other.”

  She turned to Edith and added, “What we haven’t yet mentioned is that the owner of the Silver Spurs is someone whose attention we wish to avoid. He is still in prison, but we understand it may not be long before he is released.”

  At these words, Edith grew still, in much the way a hunted animal freezes under the searching eyes of a predator.

  “That is why, my dear,” Rose finished in a quiet voice, “we may ask your permission to send you to friends who live at a distance from us. We do not wish that man to ever find you again, nor do we wish to draw his attention to our home.”

  Edith nodded, her brown curls bouncing a little as she did. When the table was excused, Tabitha asked Edith to follow her. “I know you came directly from church and left your belongings behind at the Silver Spurs, so we will find you some clothes you may call your own.”

  Rose could not help smiling as they walked away and she heard Tabitha say, “You may not believe this, but when I left the Silver Spurs I was wearing nothing but a peignoir! Not another stitch! Not even shoes. I can just imagine how the men who were there that night are still talking about that.”

  Tabitha has grown so much in you since then, Lord, Rose pondered, but I sense such a conflict in her heart lately. It causes me to wonder what is worrying her . . . even what she might be hiding.

  During the next week, Liáng and Bao met with Isaac Carmichael daily to pray and seek the Lord for his direction. As they assembled in Carmichael’s small house each morning, Liáng studied the tiny two-be
droom dwelling and prayed for the Lord to provide a safe place for Bao.

  Each day when they finished their devotions, Carmichael took them on his rounds, visiting those in his congregation who were sick or who had requested a visit. They visited ten or more families each day, praying for the sick, lifting up their needs for work, food, clothing, education, and salvation. Every day they led unsaved family members to the Lord.

  And then Carmichael took Liáng and Bao to visit the Chinese of his congregation. When they did so, Carmichael asked Liáng to take the lead, introducing him as a fellow minister. Liáng fell to ministering to the Chinese families with zeal, his satisfaction with the work he did with Carmichael growing daily.

  When the three of them visited widows and the elderly, they brought along tools. While there, they made household repairs and took note of other needs.

  Quite naturally, Carmichael began to task Bao with various errands: He gave Bao money to purchase and deliver medicines; he sent Bao with notes to other congregation members making mention of needs and asking for money, furnishings, food, or clothing for the widows and their children; he put Bao to work wherever a need presented itself.

  He is testing Bao, Liáng surmised, testing whether Bao would be a willing and apt fit as an assistant.

  Liáng and Bao even worked alongside Carmichael in the warehouse, sweeping the great auditorium and straightening the hundreds of chairs and benches.

  “Bao,” Carmichael said Friday morning. “You have seen and participated in the work of this church. I can offer you no more than a place here in my humble home, food to eat, and a part in the work I do. Will it be enough?”

  Bao stood and bowed to Carmichael. “It is enough and more—it would be an honor to serve with you.”

  “Then, my friend, I welcome you,” Carmichael replied. The two men embraced.

  This house will not do for all three of us, Liáng mused, but he said nothing. He would be returning to Seattle tomorrow—without Bao. It was an answer to prayer!

  As for Liáng, his congregation expected him to fill his pulpit on Sunday. He would return to his duties, even if temporarily. Then Liáng recalled the small house where he had hidden O’Dell and Bao, and he thought of Miss Greenbow.