Single Scarlet Thread, Chapters 28 and 29
There’s a song that I love called, Generation to Generation. It speaks about how God is faithful and unshakeable, and how as we hold on to him, that shows up from generation to generation. God takes those seeds and plants them. He waters them. He nurtures them. And one day, that fruit pushes through the soil.
Won’t it be amazing one day when we stand in front of Jesus and he shows us the powerful ways he worked — from generation to generation?
If you are discouraged, please hold tight to the One who loves you, and who loves those you care about. Your faithfulness is beautiful in the hands of God.
I promised last week this would be the final chapters, but I didn’t know there was more to write. We are so close, friends, and your words and feedback as I share this second novel in The Legacy Series is valuable. Thank you for sharing.
If you need to catch up, you can find all the previous chapters in the archive.
If you would love to read the first novel in The Legacy Series, you can find that here. (It’s also in the archive for paid subscribers.)
Thank you again for being a part of this novel adventure. I treasure you.
Single Scarlet Thread, Chapter 28
Strands of dark hair escaped from the knot on Lori’s head, hanging like silk thread in front of her face. She felt the touch of the old man’s hand on her shoulder.
“Lori?”
The message he shared with her was simple, but as far back as she could remember, Lori had been labeled a screw-up. By her dad. By teachers. By her own words as she stared into the mirror. The concept of a God who loved her seemed like a fairy tale. Saying yes to any version of love was a risk, and though Grandpa Tom’s words drew her, she felt walls closing in around her.
Love was what she wanted.
“Love” had hurt her the most.
Grandpa Tom reached for the handle of his walker and painstakingly stood. He teetered for a few seconds, then said, “Don’t let this old man’s words overwhelm you. I’ve served God for such a long time that it seems natural to talk about him.”
His gaze was gentle. He seemed concerned that he had offended her. The truth was he felt safe. Maybe that’s why Jacob felt the same way. He came from generations of men who chose family. Who chose faith. Whose kindness was tender and inviting.
“Anytime I’ve let anyone in, they’ve hurt me or I’ve hurt them,” she confessed.
“Trusting is hard for many of us,” Grandpa Tom said. “I understand that more than you know.”
He moved aside as she rose, slipping her purse over her shoulder. “Maybe I can come back and talk about this another time,” she said.
A slow smile spread across his face, lighting it up.
She pulled the elderly man into a warm embrace. “Thanks — for everything,” she whispered.
“Are you leaving?” Julie asked as she appeared in the doorway. “Let me drive you.”
Lori both longed for what she felt in this house, but also was overwhelmed by it: Grandpa Tom’s words. Julie’s kindness. A meal with laughter and banter. It was all the things she didn’t have in her own life. All the things she had never missed — until now.
She strode past Julie, calling out a thank you. She swung open the door, looking back one last time. Stephen was grabbing a set of keys and handing them to Julie, who was striding toward her.
“I’m okay,” she said, and then she was gone, marching blindly down the street. She heard their voices behind her, but pushed on. Street lights hummed as they flickered. She looked to the sky, wondering which way to go. The sun was settling down for the day, and hues of pink and blue lined the horizon as darkness tiptoed in.
There had been a difference in Jacob’s eyes in the pictures his mother had shown her. Not the quiet person who seemed so serious — the man she had come to know. In the photo, his eyes crinkled around the edges. His smile was easy. She found a curb and plopped down, breathing hard.
An old Chevy truck came to a stop at the corner. She stood and ran in front of the truck, then to the passenger door. The window was halfway down. “Can I get a ride?” she asked.
“You okay?” The man reached over and unlocked the door and she jumped in. He pulled an empty soda bottle off the bench seat and stuffed it behind him.
Exhaustion settled like a cloud over Lori. “Can you take me to a friend’s house?”
She felt foolish for jumping in the man’s car, but the man’s eyes were kind, though masked with confusion. He wore a blue and white farmer’s cap with faded edges. He was older than she first thought, and he scooted a little closer to the driver’s side door, as if letting her know he was safe — or perhaps wondering if she were. She gave him the address. He put his blinker on and made a right turn, merging into traffic.
A few minutes later she pointed. “There,” she said.
“Are you sure?” He shook his head at the sagging eaves of the old house. Paint peeling. A rusted child’s wagon sitting sideways, one wheel spinning in the breeze.
“I’m sure. Thanks.”
“You going to be okay, hon? I can take you somewhere else. I have a daughter. She’s not quite your age, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving her in this area.”
“I’m good.” Lori stumbled from the truck, waving at the man, who hesitated but finally pulled away, a puff of gray smoke coming from the tailpipe. She made her way up the sidewalk choked with weeds. Her feet felt like bricks on the creaking porch. A gray cat scurried across her path. Lori knocked. Once, then again more forcefully. A thin girl opened the door.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said. She reached to open the screen door. “Come on in.”
The room was nearly bare except for a mattress in the middle of the filthy floor. A small TV blared in the background. The girl waved at the mattress and Lori fell onto it, wrapping herself in the scratchy blanket.
It took only seconds for sleep to wrap her in its arms.
When Lori woke, a party was in full swing. The lyrics of Life’s Been Good pounded from the radio, and the sound of dancing feet vibrated the floor underneath her head. She sat up, unraveling the blanket from her torso. A thin light burned from a naked light fixture overhead, casting eerie shadows around the room. A couple sat to her right, legs intertwined, the pungent smell of weed hanging in the air.
“Welcome to the living. I can’t believe you slept through this,” the thin girl said. Lori tried to remember her name. She stood, her knees trembling. The girl held out a joint. “Want some?”
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her body, wildly searching the room, but not knowing what she was looking for.
“Are you all right?”
“I’ve got to go.”
A young man with an old face approached. “It’s okay, baby. You just need a little something to pick you up.”
Lori pushed his hand away. Powder dusted the air. She stared at his bloodshot eyes.
Jacob.
He would have the answers she needed. Grandpa Tom said Jacob used to love God just like he did. She pushed past the man and slipped outside. The store was just a few blocks away. She shivered as she jogged in that direction. A few minutes later she stood in the parking lot. Signs advertising the sale of the week were plastered on the windows, but there were no lights. She glanced at her watch, feeling foolish.
“Lori?”
She whirled around. A tall, slender guy stood at a distance. He called her name again. She started off in the opposite direction.
“I’m Jacob’s friend,” he called.
She slowed, turned around, staring at the guy wearing a down coat, jeans, and work boots. His cheeks were slightly red from the chill. He came toward her with his hands in front of him, palms up. “I’m Joseph,” he said. “Do you remember me?”
She knew the name. He was the basketball playing friend. Jacob’s co-worker. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “The store is closed.”
“It’s a little hard to explain,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for Jacob.”
He smiled. “Me too. Jacob and I had a discussion earlier, and I wanted to check on him. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
Lori felt the chapping of her skin. Her clothes hung loose on her body. She was cold, but was also sweating.
Joseph looked around, as if searching for her car. “Do you need a ride?”
“I need to find Jacob,” she said again.
Joseph opened the door of his car and climbed in, turning the ignition. He waved at the passenger side in invitation. The car was clean. The upholstery cracked. “Sorry, it’s not much, but it gets me around,” he said. “Where do you think we should go — to find him, that is?”
Adrenaline was ebbing. Lori gazed out the window. “I think I know where he is.”
“Are you cold?”
Heat crept into her cheeks. She had been wearing the same clothes for what seemed like days.
“Do you mind if we stop by my apartment? I’ll grab you a jacket or a sweatshirt.”
She nodded. As they drove, she studied him. He was handsome, his features fine. Like Jacob, she instinctively felt safe with him, which marveled her. She could see how Jacob would be drawn to this new friend, so different from Ethan. There was no ego, no need to prove anything, at least as much as she could tell. She gazed out the window, and then back at Joseph. “Did Jacob tell you what happened?”
He glanced at her, a puzzled look on his face. “I knew something was wrong, but no, he didn’t confide in me.”
Lori started to tell him everything—from her relationship with Brent to the night she met Jacob at Pivot Peak to the moment he discovered her lie. “He trusted me and I let him down,” she said. “He said he never wanted to see me again, but I have to talk to him.”
“What do you need to say?”
She ran a finger along the dash. “His grandpa explained some things to me tonight. I’ve been thinking about them all night.”
Joseph smiled. “About God?”
It was her turn to be startled. “How would you know?”
“I’ve been praying for Jacob. In fact, he and I talked about that today,” he said. “That’s why I came back here, so that we could talk more. It seemed too important to drop. I should have checked the time.”
Joseph pulled up to his apartment, promising to run in and be right back. After a few moments, she slowly got out of the car. The front door was open. She lingered for a moment, then stepped in. She heard Joseph rifling through his closet, so she pushed aside a stack of books and perched on the couch to wait for him. An old box sat on the coffee table, a frayed scarlet ribbon tied loosely. She picked it up and the lid slid off. A stack of yellowed pages with scratches of writing rested inside.
Joseph emerged, a sweatshirt over his arm. “Oh, it’s you,” he said.
“Sorry. It’s warmer in here.”
“No problem.” He reached for the box and tenderly set it on a shelf.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“My family story,” he said.
“Tell me.” She moved a pile of books and patted the couch.
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
As they drove toward Pivot Peak, he began the story. “There was a teacher that lived in the same village as my great-grandmother. He was the one who gave her the box. It’s the book of John — from the Bible. He painstakingly transcribed it, not knowing who it was for, until the day she became a believer.”
Lori was fascinated. For the next several minutes, as he maneuvered down city streets, he continued. He told her about the teacher who came with his wife and son, who taught English, not only to privileged boys like his grandfather, but to rickshaw drivers and sons of paddy farmers. He told her how his great-grandmother became friends with the wife of the teacher. He said that his great-grandfather was abusive, and his family held power in the village.
For Lori, who didn’t know her grandparents, this telling of history was intriguing but also somehow familiar.
“One day the teacher,” Joseph said, “stood in the village square and talked about his faith, inviting anyone who longed to learn more to come to his home. My great-grandmother became a believer that day.”
“So, what happened after that?”
“There was already tension in the family. My great-grandmother had befriended this couple, but she had also stepped in when the teacher’s wife nearly lost a son in childbirth. Though many loved the teacher, there were more that distrusted his motives and there was a rebellion brewing in the land. A public display of faith meant that she risked everything. It didn’t just cast shade on her, but on the entire family.”
Lori listened intently, taking in every word. She whispered. “She didn’t know anything about faith — like me.” Lori bristled with excitement. She had wanted to talk with Jacob, but she was finding more answers, just as she had hoped.
“When my great-grandfather found out that his wife had accepted the teacher’s God, a neighbor informed him about the pages the missionary had given to her.”
“The ones in your apartment?”
Joseph smiled. “Yes, those very pages. It’s an heirloom, and one my father entrusted to me when I left home for school. It’s a big deal that he gave it to me.”
“Keep talking.”
“My great-grandfather searched the house many times. He threatened her, but she had hidden it from him. She told him that she had burned the pages, but instead she destroyed treasured letters from her father and showed him the ashes as proof. You have to understand the culture. A woman did not disobey her husband.”
“I understand that culture more than you think.” Lori thought about the scratches of ink on the pages. “That was his writing?” she asked. “The teacher’s?”
Joseph nodded. “It was only one book of the Bible, but it contained everything she needed to know about Jesus.” He made a turn. “One day my great-grandfather pretended to leave, but tricked her and found her reading the pages. He started beating her severely, driving her into the street so the neighbors might see that she was being punished. My grandfather’s name was Junhui. He was only a boy, but he tried to protect her.”
Lori looked puzzled. “Joseph, this is so weird,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard this story.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Earlier, at Jacob’s house,” she said. “Tell me more. . .” Her eyes got huge. “Joseph . . .” she whispered. “Oh, my goodness, your name.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your name. You’re Joseph. You were named for the teacher.”
Now it was Joseph’s turn to stare at Lori as if she had lost her mind. The words tumbled excitedly from her. “Let me tell the rest of the story and you tell me if I have it right. Your great-grandfather died when a horse trampled him. The teacher got blamed for it and some in the community stoned him, right? They left his body in the street, and his wife and son fled back to the United States.”
Joseph nodded numbly. “Except, the people of the church went back a couple of nights later. They loved the teacher and couldn’t bear his body being exposed but his body was gone. They were not able to mark the spot that he died, but my great-grandmother knew where it was located. She said they put a highway in that same spot. She went back before she died and paid tribute.”
Lori began to laugh. “Oh my word. Listen to this. The teacher’s wife was pregnant when they traveled by ship to China. That baby was named Thomas.”
Joseph stared at her as if she were an apparition. “How do you know that?”
“Jacob’s Grandpa is named Tom — Thomas!” She gestured excitedly. ”Grandpa Tom had a father named Joseph who was a teacher in China. He died just like you said, except he didn’t die at all. Someone found his body, but realized he was barely alive and they took care of him. The story is exactly the same,” she said. “Your great-grandmother and Jacob’s great-grandfather have to be the people in the story.” She hit the dash. “Wait! I remember. Grandpa Tom said the woman’s name started with an S.” She bit her lip. “Sunsoo. That’s it!”
Joseph tried to speak, but could only stammer. “I told him it wasn’t an accident,” he whispered. He shook his head, eyes wide. “My great-grandmother’s name was Wang Sun Soo.” He pulled to the curb, putting his head in his hands. “And he didn’t die?” He stared at her. “We were always told that he died. The teacher lived?!”
“The teacher lived,” she said.
She listened as Joseph muttered quietly, sorting through the information that she had shared. His words were soft, speaking to himself, but perhaps to someone else as well. “It was not an accident, me coming here. He asked me how could God find him, if he couldn’t find himself. God, you were at work all this time.”
He turned to her. “We’ve got to find him. Do you still think he’s at Pivot Peak.”
She stared out the windshield. “I know he is.”
Joseph pressed harder on the accelerator. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 29
Grandpa wheezed with exertion, but a glow was on his face.
“Grandpa Tom,” Julie said, tears welling up in her eyes.
He patted Julie on the shoulder as he walked toward his bedroom. He called out as he stood in the doorway. “I felt like I was trapped, sitting in that bed day after day, my old legs not working like I hoped. I dreamed what it would be like to go overseas and share the gospel, but I am an old man. Well, here I am sitting in your home, and God brings a young ‘un who’s never heard the gospel. Maybe he has given me that one last wish after all.” He shook his head. “He’s so good, honey. God is so good.” He held on to the doorframe. “Kids, I need to pray for a while,” he said, a half-smile still on his face.
Stephen heard the low rumble of his grandfather’s prayers. It was a familiar and comforting sound, the low tones like waves tumbling over stones. He eased the door shut and made his way to his study. He wrenched open a desk drawer and yanked out neatly-bound bills and papers. He picked up a plain, white envelope and pulled out the letter, then walked back and stood before Julie who was sitting in the rocking chair. Her favorite CD filled the room as she rocked, her face intent. Stephen’s shadow blocked the light and she looked up.
“Excuse me,” she said. “You’re kind of in my light.” She grinned at him, but frowned when he didn’t move.
He sat on the couch and held the letter out. “You need to see this,” he said. “I should have told you a month ago, but then we got the phone call from the center. I honestly pushed it to the back of my mind.”
“What is it?”
Stephen held the folded piece of paper in front of her. “When Grandpa Tom was praying, the Lord showed me something—something I did wrong,” he said quietly. “I should have shown it to you a long time ago. It’s a letter from Jacob’s biological father.”
