Whispers of Refuge Box Set

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 42

Sang-Hee hadn’t let go of her little sister’s hand for the entire bus ride. She rested one cheek on the young girl’s head and whispered sweet senseless musings: “It’s going to get better.” “One day, this will be over.” “Life won’t always be so hard.” When the bus slowed down in front of a hotel, she took a deep breath. At least the building looked fancy enough to have an elevator. The last time Min had been taken to entertain at another establishment, Sang-Hee had to carry her up three flights of stairs.

The businesswoman, now wearing a low-cut dress with beads swirling from its short skirt, stood up in the bus aisle next to the driver. “This is where you will work tonight. The party begins in forty-five minutes, which should give you time to freshen up in your rooms upstairs.” She furrowed her brows, and Sang-Hee blinked as she stared at the mascara caked onto the woman’s eyelashes. “You’ll go right to your assigned rooms. Hurry up.”

The girls filed off the bus. “Let’s go now.” Sang-Hee hoisted her sister up on her back and made her way down the aisle. She stalled once at the top of the steps and did what she could to shift their center of gravity to make the descent safely. The businesswoman was on the curb, but she put one foot up on the lower bus step and supported Sang-Hee by the elbow as she made her way down.

Sang-Hee and Min would share a room with two other girls. They had each spent over an hour primping before the bus ride, and there was little left to be done now but wait. Once they were settled in their suite, Sang-Hee lay down next to Min, carefully ensuring neither of their dresses would get crumpled on the soft hotel bed. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “You can rest for a little bit. Nobody’s coming to bother us.” She sighed with weariness. “Not yet,” she added, quietly enough only she could hear.

Sang-Hee woke up to the sound of quiet knocking several hours later. A tiny smudge of drool moistened her cheek. She shivered once with the chill. One of the other girls in the bed next to her snored slightly. She looked at the clock and sucked in her breath. They had missed the party. She sprang out of bed. How would she explain her mistake to the innkeeper? She was several years older than the other girls. She should have known better. She threw on the lights, fluffed her curls once in the mirror, and flung the door open.

“Shhh.” It was the woman from the bus. She had taken off the evening dress and now wore casual black leggings and a dark hooded sweatshirt with the same pointed heels. She glanced behind her once and slipped into the room.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Sang-Hee whispered. “It’s my fault.”

The woman shook her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no party. I came to bring you these.” She held up four small backpacks, two draped over each arm. “Wake the girls up. Tell them to get changed. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

A chill raced its way up Sang-Hee’s spine. “Leave?” The word caught in her throat like a desperate gasp for air.

The woman met her gaze. “Leave. I’m getting you out of here.” Sang-Hee thought about the borders she had already crossed, the miles she had already traveled. Was it starting all over again, then? “I’ll explain more on the bus,” the woman whispered. “Just wake everyone else up, and tell them to be ready. I’ll knock once when it’s time.”

Sang-Hee’s legs were heavy as she made her way to Min. The child was cherubic, her porcelain cheeks shining with a babyish radiance. Sang-Hee nestled her nose into the side of her little sister’s neck. “Come on,” she whispered. “We’ve got to get dressed.”

Half an hour later, thirty sleepy-eyed girls stumbled down a back staircase to the bus that waited for them in an alleyway. Sang-Hee hadn’t been able to fully rouse Min but had managed to dress her and carry her downstairs. The woman in heels was at the bus waiting. “What’s going on?” Sang-Hee asked.

“We’ve found safe homes for you. Away from here. You’ll never have to go back.” She placed one hand on Sang-Hee’s shoulder, and with the other, gestured to the girls behind her to continue boarding. She lowered her voice. “I made sure that you two would stay together.” She swept a strand of hair from Min’s forehead. “She’ll need someone like you watching over her.”

“Where is it you’re taking us?”

The woman shook her head. “There are parts to the puzzle I don’t see. When I get off this bus, the less I know, the better. It’s enough for me that you’ll be safe.”

Safe? Sang-Hee balked. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

The woman’s melancholy smile was as enigmatic as her response. “I like to think of it as repaying a debt.” Min squirmed in her sleep. “You better find seats,” the woman said.

Once everyone was settled, she spoke to the girls in a quiet, simplistic manner. “I know it’s late, and it’s a little chilly. There are blankets in some of the backpacks, but you’ll have to share them. You’re going on a drive. It will take all night. Try to sleep if you can. When you stop in the morning, you’ll be taken to homes. Nice homes. Not like the one you’re leaving. There will be mommies there. Maybe not as good and kind as the mommies you might have had when you were younger, but they will love you and care for you just the same. After that, some more nice people will take you to other homes. Even better homes. Far away from people who want to hurt you. But you have to be brave. You older girls need to help the younger ones if they get tired or scared.” Sang-Hee saw the woman wipe the side of her face, smudging some of that extra mascara from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry for what you’ve had to go through. Just ...” Her voice caught for a moment. “Just remember nothing that’s happened to you is your fault. Nothing. I promise you, from this moment on, it’s going to get better.”

From where she lay cuddled on her big sister’s lap, Min stirred with a pitiful whine. The woman in the sweatshirt walked down the aisle of the bus, her steps brisk and noisy in her impossibly high heels. She knelt down and tucked Min’s stray bangs behind her ear. She put her face close to the child’s. “It will be all right,” she whispered. The woman leaned forward and kissed the squirming girl once on the cheek. Min blinked her eyes open and drifted back off to sleep.

“Safe journey, little cousin,” the woman breathed. Her clicking heels pierced the silence as she clacked down the aisle, descended the stairs, and hurried out into the dark night.

***

When she was a safe distance from the hotel, Mee-Kyong turned toward the late-night cafe and plucked her cell phone out of her pocket.

“They’re all off,” she told him.

“Congratulations,” he responded. “Another job well done. Where are you now?”

“Right where we agreed.”

“On my way.” She stood waiting, thinking about the girl with the crippled feet and her older sister, two more nameless faces to add to her ever-growing prayer list. A moment later, she sensed his presence even before he came up behind her for a hug. “You did it,” he whispered into her ear.

“That didn’t take you long,” she remarked. “What were you doing, stalking me the whole time?”

“Maybe.” He rested his cheek on the top of her head and inhaled deeply. “Just because I love you.”

“Careful.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I thought bodyguards were supposed to remain professional at all times.”

He held up both hands. “Guilty.” She didn’t return his smile, at least not soon enough to keep him from noticing. “What’s wrong?” He put one arm around her and led her down the sidewalk.

“I was just thinking about the girls we left behind. There were so many of them.”

“Always will be,” he reminded her.

She sighed again. “I just keep thinking about her.”

She knew he understood which her she was talking about. “I know.” A trace of playfulness crept into his voice. “But the past ...”

“... is a closed book,” she finished, and she laughed with him, even though her heart was burdened by a sadness no amount of inside jokes would ever erase. “I’m ready,” she sighed.

He took her by the hand. “Then let’s go, my love.” Together they walked through the darkness toward the safety and shelter of home.