What Happened to Enos' Little Girl?

by KayCee1951

Part One

Mount Jiri, South Korea

Theme Song:

You Are the Reason

by Calum Scott, Singer/Songwriter

Chapter Three

Never Saw It Coming

Still August 3, 2022

The Lieutenant sat on a stone bank on a cushion of lush green moss and sulked like a spoiled child. At least, that was Esme's impression at the time.

When the temple truck arrived within the promised time, it was not the beat-up clunker she expected. Out of it emerged a man five inches taller than her and still short compared to Kim Min-jun. François Lefevre was not dressed as she envisioned; however, he would not be mistaken for a regular visitor either. She remembered from her visit to the welcome center at the base of Jirisan that modesty in clothing and behavior was the primary request from temples. François, 'the man on perpetual retreat,' was attired in dove-gray button-up pajamas that were both modest and respectful. One might easily mistake him for a novice monk, and she wondered how long he had been 'on retreat' there.

His initial reaction to her was curious…if not a tad disquieting. François seemed to be contemplating his words carefully when Kim Min-jun joined them, a strange look passing between the two old…friends. Or would comrades-in-arms fit better? They gave every impression of having served together. But François was ten to fifteen years Kim Min-jun's senior and most likely would have outranked the now Lieutenant Kim. She wondered what had brought them both to this isolated, almost secret temple. But deep down, she knew. Neither was an ordinary soldier…one of the special forces' brigades?…probably.

Esme's Dad was no ordinary cop, either. Sometimes Esme and Gem saw it all as surreal…How could Enos Strate, with his passive ways…like a big Teddy Bear who still cried at sad movies…deal with gruesome sex crimes, violent abductions, and tragic ends to bad situations? But deal with them he did – because he was who he was…Benjamen Enos Strate, highly decorated, highly respected, and most importantly, the shy, soft-hearted father who left punishment to Soonie because he couldn't bear to do it himself. Sheriff Strate was all that…until faced with injustice and behavior threatening the innocent. Then, he became a gigantic Grizzly Bear, with claws and teeth. Esme smiled thinking about it…they also broke the mold when Enos Strate came off the assembly line.

None of that told her why Lieutenant Kim Min-jun wanted to take her to the temple.

"Je sais qu'elle est mininne, François, mais c'est impoli de la regarder," Min-jun said. 1)

Those words made her self-conscious of all the things he had said and done since they met.

"Shouldn't you be turning the truck toward the village?"

"I've changed my mind!" Esme nearly blurted out. "If you have someplace for me to stay, I'll at least stay the night. I wouldn't want to cause François any trouble. We can talk about how to get me back to the village tomorrow."

She reasoned that she would be at a Buddhist Temple, where inner peace and harmony were the watchwords. She couldn't think of another place on the peninsula where she would be safer…and felt guilty about how she treated the Lieutenant. It was apparent now that he was troubled about something. Gem saw many former soldiers with PTSD in her practice, male and female. Unfortunately, it was the norm rather than an anomaly. Whether that applied to the Lieutenant or not was yet to be determined.

Kim Min-jun was relieved but confused that she had changed her mind. Esmeralda Ha-yun Strate was feisty and stubborn. Why would she cave this soon? (Yes…he already knew her full name. Interesting. Only a little creepy.)

"I'll drive you both to the Temple," François said. "When Father gave me the keys to the truck, he said he would see you both at noon meal tomorrow."

"He was pretty confident I would be staying," Esme said. "Is it far…on foot, I mean?" Esme asked the Lieutenant. They had already hiked the mile from the village.

"About a klick and a half in that direction," Min-jun said. He pointed into the wood, where a trail through the lush fern and moss was barely discernable. It seemed peaceful and serene…and it was easy to understand why the temple had been built there.

Esme turned to François. "We'll walk the rest of the way. After all, before the Lieutenant decided it was best to give up on me and call you, we would have walked the distance anyway. N'êtes-vous pas d'accord, François?"

"Min-jun-ah sometimes forgets he's talking to a civilian…one who obviously speaks French. A klick is equal to––."

"Yes, I know that klick is shorthand for kilometer. My older sister was in the military through my high school years, and I bombarded her incessantly with questions whenever we Skyped. Are you ready, Lieutenant?"

"…Yes." He still sounded dejected, even though she'd decided to stay, out of curiosity alone.

When he didn't move, Esme guiltily asked, "Lieutenant, are you all––?"

"Yes. Just wondering if I'll ever be able to persuade you to call me something other than Lieutenant." As he walked away toward the lush green wood, he murmured, "My name is Min-jun."

After that, until they reached the temple, their walk through the paradisal wood was utterly silent, except for the spectacular beauty and insect chorus. That is until they stood on temple grounds, and Esme let out an involuntary gasp. It was her vision of…Shangri-La. Fantastical beauty in every detail...for only the chosen few to see. She felt honored and unworthy simultaneously.

"Everything you see, all the inscriptions, the statues, the single pagoda in the courtyard, and the dancheong on the ceiling and around the roof of the temple prayer hall were carved, etched, or painted by the resident monks and novices over many years."

The richly deep seafoam greens were striking against the smattering of Chinese red and persimmon. It dominated the color scheme of this temple...especially where the three colors were woven into complex patterns. That almost electric seafoam green instantly became Esme's new favorite color.

"What's the name of the temple?" Esme asked.

"It doesn't have an official name. Unofficially, the monks who reside here seem to have come up with their own. Esme had found her name for the temple.

"What's your name for it?" she asked the Lieutenant.

After what seemed to Esme as weighty contemplation, the Lieutenant did a 180, presumably to avoid answering the question, and returned to the bold bike thief she'd met that morning. Apparently, she liked bold and daring men as much as Auntie Dae…who knew?

"Stay more than one night, and I'll tell you."

"You really try to push the envelope, don't you? You'll use something as random as that to get your way when you could withhold towels, bedding, clothing…food?"

"That would only make you angry and me a colossal jerk."

"You're right," she said, letting only a hint of a smile show, "That would make you a colossal jerk. I suggest you stick with 'ordinary jerk.'"

At that, he smiled broadly. "There she is…that feisty redhead that chased a bicycle thief up a mountain. I thought I'd lost her. Did you really think I gave up on you?"

"Didn't you?"

"No…never, Esmeralda." He whispered it so low Esme almost didn't catch it.

Something about how he said her given name made shivers go down her spine…not the kind she got because of creepy house sounds or dark stormy nights. This kind of shiver was like a warm wave of exhilaration that left her wanting more.

"So, you think I'm cute," Esme said with a coquettish smile she had often chastised Gigi for using.

"That's before I knew that you understand French."

"Does my speaking French change how I look to you?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Yeah…I'm starting to. I intended to keep it to myself longer, but that would be a dirty trick…considering. I don't play dirty."

"Thank you for that. Something you learned from your Dad?"

"He wouldn't know how to begin…Now, Mom, she's a different story. Actually, I learned from my students. Sometimes, they teach me as much as I teach them."

"So, you're a teacher. What grade?"

"Fifth. I work at a magnet school. We're on a rotating class schedule, which eliminates any of us having to teach subjects we're weak on. My specialty is World Languages. I conduct four classes in that and one music class – for the cello."

"You play the cello?" He looked her up and down and snickered.

"And that's funny because?"

"It seems like such a massive instrument for a tiny package like yours to haul around. I've seen men taller and more muscular than you wearing them like backpacks and still look like they're struggling. Is yours child-size?"

"I play a ¾ Cello, which is only one step down from a Full 4/4 Cello, thank you," Esme said. "I just don't have to let the endpin rod out. Why all the interest in my playing the cello. Aren't you the least bit impressed that I introduce diverse languages and cultures to a roomful of overachievers? "

"Intimidated is more like it. I speak five languages, including Korean. I'm betting you speak…?"

"Eight, including English. Korean was hard for me. I spoke Spanish before I learned Korean."

"Don't let it bother you. Even Koreans struggle with proper Korean. I'll bet you can read and write Hangul."

"Actually, Hangul and Hanja."

"See? Intimidating," Min-jun said. "If you lived in Korea, you could easily get a job teaching the two systems. Wait…do you speak Arabic?"

He loaded a lot in that sentence. "I'm familiar with it, of course," she said, "but to speak and understand it…No."

"If you stayed longer, say, for another three weeks…I could teach you some of the basics."

"I…My agenda in South Korea is set. I have to go back to Japan, where I'm supposed to be, in a week. I wanted to see Mount Jiri in person, not just on the travel videos and I still have to go to Seoul…"

"Esme?"

"Yes?"

"The thing with the bike this morning…If that's what is getting in the way…I only wanted to get your attention. I don't usually do things like that, and I'm still a little surprised and ashamed that I carried it as far as I did," he said with sincerity.

"Well, it worked. Wasn't that what you wanted?" Esme asked, a little colder than she should have.

"Esme!...I am trying to apologize."

He was genuinely apologetic…as contrite as a puppy being scolded for chewing up his master's favorite kicks.

Compared to Esme's height, the Lieutenant wasn't simply taller by fifteen inches…he towered over her. Only then did she realize they had slowly been moving toward each other. She stepped back a few feet.

"Apology accepted…but only if you provide the promised dinner."

Kim Min-jun was so relieved that he expelled all the air he'd been holding in. Embarrassed, he turned away. At that moment, he realized that if he allowed it, if he let his guard down, this escapee from Whoville with the mass of red/orange curls, who usually wore glasses, could own him, body and soul…

…if it was not too late already.