A Thread Unbroken (21 page)

Tao ran back to Josi and put his hands on her shoulders, then shook her.

“Josi. Snap out of it. I don’t want this fire to get out of control. Hurry. Get the hose.”

Without a word, Josi ran for the hose that was hooked to the side of the house. She pointed it at the doorway to their room and unclenched the vise that was used to cut off the flow. The water began to spurt inside the structure. Even though the rain was coming down in sheets, she knew there was still a chance the decking could catch fire. She thought about the boys sleeping in the house and knew she didn’t want that to happen.

“Tao, what about Bo? Are you going to help him up?”

Tao took the hose from her and moved closer to the inside of the shed. “Bo can get himself out of the water—maybe by then he’ll have settled down.”

The small fire was out in a few short minutes, and Josi turned around to see where Bo was. She didn’t see him anywhere. “Did he get out of the water?”

Tao turned around. “I don’t know. I was busy helping you, but I heard him splashing just a minute ago.”

Tao dropped the hose, and they both ran to the edge of the deck and peered over the side. Bo was nowhere to be seen.

“Tao, where is he?” Josi turned all the way around, looking in every direction for Bo. “Tao, answer me!”

Tao stayed on his knees, staring into the dark water toward a trail of bubbles lingering on the surface. He stared a minute longer, not saying a word or even looking at Josi.

Josi went to the room that had at the least become a private sanctuary for her and Chai, but it was now nothing but a charred mess. Nothing could be salvaged. She began to shake violently again. Her mind was not able to take in everything that had happened in the last few minutes. How could she look Mother in the face when she had stood by as her son sank to the bottom of the bay? Even if he was a cruel bully, he was still her son—her favorite son, no less.

She returned to the deck. “Tao? Did Bo drown? Please tell me he got back up?”

Finally, Tao turned to her. “Get in the boat, Josi.”

“The boat?” She looked at the sampan and then back to him, confused. “Why?”

Tao picked up his extra fishing boots and tossed them toward Josi. He reached into their room and quickly picked up the remains of her ripped clothing, tossing them into the water where they immediately began to sink from the weight of the pelting rain. He grabbed her coat from the mess inside and dropped it into the tied-up sampan, his expression sadder than she’d ever seen it. “You have to go.”

C
hai struggled to open her eyes. Faintly she heard someone moving about the room. She sat up and rubbed at her neck, looking around.

“Well,
zao shang hao
, Chai.” Mother stood over the bed, folding her blanket, and woke Chai with a greeting of good morning.

“Ugh. I slept here all night?”

“You sure did, and thank goodness I didn’t need you any more last night. I don’t think I could have woken you.”

“Have you seen Josi? She’s going to be so mad at me. I bet she barely slept at all. Is it still storming?”

“It’s only five o’clock, and it’s still raining. No one has stirred yet, but Zhongfu should be getting up any time to head out for the day with the boys, unless the weather reports have gotten worse. And yes—I feel a lot better, thank you for asking,” she added.

“What do you want from me? I took care of you all day yesterday and half the night!” Chai was sore and grumpy and didn’t feel like catering to Mother that morning, even if she did have to lose her supper privileges.

“Get up and start making breakfast, that’s what I want. You think you’re getting a morning off just because you—”

A piercing scream filled the house, shocking Chai and Mother into silence. Chai jumped to her feet and ran out of the room, Mother right behind her.

In the living room, the two little boys sat up in their pallet, startled and looking around them to find the source of the noise. Chai and Mother ran by them and out the door. On the deck, they found Lao Chan struggling to pull Tao from the bay. He barely looked conscious, but he was alive.

Mother shrieked and threw her arms in the air. “What happened?”

Chai ran to help Lao Chan pull Tao all the way onto the wooden deck. “Tao, are you okay? What happened?”

Chai turned his head to the side as he coughed water up. The bruises along his entire face made his mother gasp. Chai turned to look at the open door to their room. “Where’s Josi?”

Then her eyes landed on the charred remains of their blankets and books. “
Josi!
Where is Josi, Tao? There’s been a fire? Where is she?”

Lao Chan pushed Chai away from his son. “I found him in the water, barely holding on to the side. That useless girl is not here—neither is Bo. Shut up so he can get his breath and tell us what happened out here.”

Chai frantically ran around the floating home, checking all over for Josi. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. She quickly scanned the other houses, but she found only a few gawkers, no one that looked like Josi or Bo.

Tao got to his knees and coughed and spit water. “They’re gone.”

“What do you mean, they’re gone?” Lao Chan demanded. Mother stood behind him, wringing her hands and pacing back and forth, the rain plastering her hair to her head.

“They’re gone! I came out because I heard a noise, and I saw them getting into the small boat. I tried to stop them, and Bo hit me across the face with the oar, knocking me into the water. He must have given me a concussion because I blacked out, and when I woke up I couldn’t get the strength to climb back up. I’ve barely been holding on for hours.”

“Why would they leave? This doesn’t make sense.” Mother looked around, muttering to herself, for she knew that her eldest son wouldn’t just up and leave, especially with the less favorable of the two girls.

“What are you saying, boy?” Lao Chan shook Tao’s shoulder, his anger building to an explosive level. The two youngest boys ran to hide behind their mother’s legs.

Tao refused to look his father in the eye. He waved his hands in the air toward the water. “I’m saying they ran away! I tried to stop them; I did!”

His father wrinkled his brow. “Ran away? Why would Bo run away? With the crippled one?
Aiyo
...I don’t believe it!”

In frustration, Chai stopped in front of Tao and slapped him across the face. “You know Josi wouldn’t run away with that pig! Stop lying and tell me where she is. Now!” Tao was hiding something—Chai could feel that he knew more about where Josi was or what had happened. She struggled to stand tall, though her head was spinning and she felt faint. Her fear for Josi was paralyzing. She felt her usual energy sap away until she had to lean against the shed just to continue standing.

“I’m telling the truth.” He looked at Chai, trying to convey with his eyes what he couldn’t say aloud.

Lao Chan pushed her aside. “How did this fire get started, and who put it out?”

“
Wo bu zhi dao
, Baba. I told you. I heard a noise and came out to see what it was, but the room was already like this, and they were climbing in the boat. I guess Bo put it out—but I don’t know what started it, and I don’t know where they were going.”

J
un flicked his cigarette into the dirt and paused in front of the door to his house. Finally he had something. Even if it turned out to be a false lead, it was at least somewhere to start. His heart felt lighter, and though he still carried a heavy sadness, he finally had a glimmer of hope to pursue.

He turned the door handle and walked in.

He wanted to wait until Luci was asleep before talking to Wei about the old woman he had met, but the spot where Chai’s books usually were caught his attention—especially evident, because it was a now-empty clean spot in the middle of the dusty table. He looked around and saw that Chai’s clothes no longer hung on the metal bar with everyone else’s. He looked down beside the door, and his fears were confirmed: her small red house slippers were gone.

“Luci, where are your sister’s books? And her other things?” He had made it clear before that he wanted all of her stuff to stay where it belonged, so that when she returned she would know they had not forgotten her. Her books were her most prized possessions, and Jun knew that wherever she was, she had to be wishing they were with her.

Luci looked at her father with wide eyes. “I don’t know. Ask Mama.”

Wei was at the counter, dipping soup into bowls, and didn’t turn.

“Wei? Where are Chai’s books?”

No answer came. Only the stiffening of her shoulders indicated she had heard his question.

He strode across the floor and grabbed Wei’s shoulder to pull her around and face him. She dropped the bowl she was filling, and the crack of the pottery hitting the floor was like a discharged bullet in the quiet room. The brown soup seeped across the uneven floor, traveling down a deep groove like it was following a tributary to a river. Wei stared at it, not moving or even looking at her husband.

“Wei. I asked you a question: Where are Chai’s books and the rest of her things?”

Wei sighed loudly. “I still have the books—they’re in the trunk for Luci when she can read them herself. I gave away her clothes and slippers. I don’t want Luci to ever wear them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What about when Chai comes back? What will she think?”

Wei went to the edge of her bed and sat down, lowered her face in her hands, and began crying.

Jun threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Why won’t you talk to me about her? Chai is your daughter. She is still out there somewhere. Going through God only knows what!”

He paced the floor, waiting for his wife to stop her sobbing and answer him. He was glad to at least witness some emotion from her. For months, she had refused to speak of their eldest daughter and would leave the room, her face set in stone, whenever he mentioned her.

Luci huddled in her bed, listening intently while she clutched her doll.

Wei sat up straight and glared at Jun. “Because I can’t! I don’t want to think about what could be happening to her—if she is cold or hungry, being beaten or...or...worse. Don’t you understand? I cannot put myself there; it is too agonizing. It has been over a year, Jun! And you’re making me hate you because you won’t allow me to forget!”

Jun went to Wei and knelt on the floor in front of her. He took her shaking hands in his, his eyes pleading with her to understand.

“Wei, we cannot forget her. We are her only chance, and she is waiting for us to find her. ” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I can’t fail her again. Wei, I have something to tell you. I found a woman who may have seen the girls that day. She led me to an apartment she thought she saw them enter the day they disappeared. It’s empty now, but I have traced the person who rented it, and I know where her home village is. I have a name, Wei! I have something!”

Wei looked at him, confused. “But how do you know it was the girls? It could have been anyone. How do you know? Since Chai left, there have been many people telling me stories of missing girls who are never found again.”

“Wei, Chai didn’t
leave
. She was taken. The woman said she saw two girls, about the same age as Chai and Josi, and one of them walked with a strong limp. She said the next day she remembers them tapping on the window to get her attention, but she was afraid of the owner so she didn’t respond.” He didn’t mention the only part of the story that didn’t fit—that the girls were wearing bright-colored dresses. He knew they hadn’t been wearing dresses that day, but he didn’t want to let that detail
deter him and decided to keep it to himself. “I have to go find the woman, and her home is at least a week of travel from here.”

Wei’s sudden intake of breath was loud, but she didn’t respond.

“Please, Wei. Let me do this, and if I come back without her, then I will work on letting it go. But I have to try. Lao Tzu tells us that ‘A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.’ This might be the lead we’ve been waiting for. Can’t you see? It is my fault she’s gone. I told her she could go to the canal that day. If I had told her to go straight home, she would never have disappeared. I’m her father—I was supposed to protect her, and I failed.” Jun stood and turned away from his wife.

Luci pulled her covers back and crept over to stand in front of her parents. “Baba. Go find my
jie jie
. Please find her.” She burst into tears and crumpled to the floor.

Jun gently picked her up and sat on the chair with her cradled in his lap, rocking her back and forth. “Now, now, Luci.
Bu ku le.
” He told her not to cry as he used his hand to wipe the tears from her cheek.

Luci’s anguish cut him right to the heart, for he knew she had been holding it in for so long. She was too much like her mother, usually refusing to show her emotions. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by him that Chai’s disappearance had made their usually rambunctious daughter afraid to even go outside alone. He knew she was silently suffering as much or maybe more than he, but it was hard for him to comfort her while his own pain was so overpowering. It was sad what their family had come to—each of them shutting the others out and wallowing alone in their grief.

Wei stood and turned away as her own tears began to slide down her face. “Fine. Go. When you come back without her and
we’ve lost everything because we cannot pay our bills, then don’t complain to me. I guess we’ll have to sleep with Shen’s pigs.”

“I would rather lose it all than give up on finding Chai.” Jun carried Luci to her bed, tucked her in, and kissed her on her forehead. He gave his wife one last look and opened the door to go sit in his usual sentry post. “I’ll leave in the morning, Wei. When I return, with or without her, I want to see all of Chai’s things put back exactly where they should be. If you gave them away, you’d better get them back.”

As the door closed behind him, Wei walked past the mess in the floor, past the dirty dishes, and went straight to her daughter. She crawled under the covers, filling the empty spot still left for Chai each night. She pulled Luci close and buried her face in the sweet little-girl smell of her hair.