Children of the River (9 page)

But Sundara smiled. “My aunt say—” She stopped. Too personal to mention, how her aunt hated to spend money on a girl's education when there was always the risk—however slight—that she might get pregnant. “My aunt want me to try for a scholarship.”
“Ah. Well, Stanford does have a good financial-aid program Grades pretty good, are they? When you apply, maybe I could help with a recommendation.”
“Oh, thank you.” He spoke as if college and medical school were a real possibility for her. Something that might actually happen. But perhaps this was merely the way of people used to making plans and counting on the future.
“Let's sit up front,” Jonathan said.
Balancing carefully as she followed him to the bow, she braced herself on the top of the cabin. Glancing back at Dr. McKinnon, she was startled when he winked at her.
Winked.
“Glad to have you on board, Sundara.”
It was another world, sitting with Jonathan, their bare toes on the sun-warmed fiber glass deck. She liked the way the sun lit the gold hairs on his arms and the breeze tousled his hair. Who could have imagined she'd ever find herself
enjoying
sitting on an open boat deck in the sun? But here she was, lifting her face to the warm rays without caring, the way the Americans did.
“Sorry about all the questions,” Jonathan said. “I wish they wouldn't be that way.”
“But I think they are so nice.” It had not occurred to her he might be wondering what
she
thought of
them.
She stole a peek back over her shoulder. Dr. McKinnon had one hand on that steering stick—she'd already forgotten what he called it—and the other arm around his wife. They looked happy together.
“Your parents—they choose each other to marry?”
Jonathan laughed. “Of course! Well, actually, sometimes Mom says it was all his idea and he says it was all her idea, but basically, yeah, they chose each other.” He shook his head. “I should show you their wedding pictures I can't believe they ever looked so young. My mom was going to be a social worker. Dad was going to do medical care for poor kids. They tell me that back then they were planning to change the world.”
Change the world. What a funny idea. Only two westerners would dream of throwing themselves against the prearranged cosmic order of things…. Yet somehow, imagining the McKinnons in their idealistic younger days, she felt nothing but affection. After all, Dr. McKinnon
bad
made a little part of heir world better.
“So does your mother become a social worker?”
“Yeah, for a while. But then she had me and I guess she kind of burned out on all the sad cases.”
“And your father?”
“He did quite a bit of volunteer work at this free clinic. Worked some with the Indians. But that was before we came here.” He shrugged. “I guess they've pretty much given up on all that now.”
She watched the sun flashing on the water as the boat bobbed up and down. “Something I wonder about—they don't mind I'm not white?”
“Sundara! What a crazy idea! I mean, they
better
not. All my life they've been telling me everybody's equal, race doesn't matter.”
“Doesn't matter at all to them?”
“Well, theoretically,”
Theoretically.
They both knew saying you believed something was not the same as living it.
“But my dad's younger brother joined the Peace Corps and ended up marrying an Indonesian woman. Nobody was unhappy about
that.”
He smiled at Sundara in a way that made her face warm. “Their kids are really cute.”
Sundara looked into his eyes, blue with black ringing the irises. If she had his baby, what color would the eyes be? Then they both blushed. Had he been wondering the same thing?
“I don't think my family ever going to feel that way,” she said. “They don't even try to pretend race doesn't matter. And they don't like the American way about marriage and everything. Don't like so quick to divorce. Don't like to have the baby without the husband.”
“Well, that isn't exactly our ideal either.”
“But it happen all the time. This never happen with Khmer girl.”
“Never?”
“Not if they are daughters of good family.”
“But
never}
That's hard to believe.”
“I do know one,” she admitted. “A girl in Portland, she love a boy at a Thailand camp? They planning to marry but he go to France and her family come here. So her parents won't let her marry. They afraid they never see her again if she go to France.” Sundara lowered her voice. “When they come here they find she going to have a baby.”
“But they wanted to get married?”
“Oh, yes! She cry all the time for him. Keep saying he promise to find her and their baby someday.”
“Why didn't he just come to America?”
“Cannot do that. So difficult to get a new country to accept, the people just have to go where they can.”
They fell silent then as the boat made its lazy, gently rocking way across the water. How pleasant, Sundara thought, to let their shoulders touch this way, as if by accident, but neither of them moving away. If only she did not have to worry about Soka, about being a good Khmer girl. If only …
After a long time Jonathan finally spoke. “A penny for your thoughts.”
Sundara started. “A penny for a thought? What does that mean?”
“Haven't you heard that expression? It means you have to tell me what you're thinking right at this instant.”
Her eyes widened. “I have to tell my private thought? This is the American custom?”
He laughed. “I guess you don't really
bave
to.” He was studying her face. “But now I'm really curious. What
were
you thinking?”
“Oh …” She smiled, her cheeks warm with more than the sun. “I'm just thinking how I like this. How I wish it could always be this way.”
“Well, why can't it?”
“Oh, Jonatan. You
know
why.” She had tried so many times. But she couldn't explain something to him that he didn't want to understand.
He looked at heir for a moment. “Sundara, do you— well, ever since I first saw you, I've had the strangest feeling. The way I was just drawn to you, like somehow I'd known you. before …”
She spoke matter-of-factly. “You mean in our past lives?”
He blinked. “Wdl, I wasn't thinking of it so literally, but …
this feeling
…”
Sundara remembered that first time at the market, when she'd thought Jonathan reminded her of Chamroeun. Had it really been Chamroeun, or was the familiarity something else, something like recognizing a place you'd never been before, or meeting someone you'd been waiting for all your life?
“Yes,” she said shyly, “I think I feel that way too.”
They looked at each other for a moment, then he said, “You are just so unlike any girl I've ever known.”
“That for sure.” She flashed her dimples at him. “Black hair, black eye.”
“I
love
your black hair, and your eyes aren't black, they're kind of a warm, melty brown.”
“Oh, my skin too dark for you.”
“Don't be stupid. You want to know the truth? I've got so used to looking at you, everybody else seems kind of washed-out in comparison.”
“Is that true?”
He nodded. “And you know, as long as I'm confessing —at first when I started asking you to tell me about Cambodia?” He made a face. “I really just wanted an excuse to sit there and look at you….”
She smiled. “I know.”
“You know? You've known that all along?”
“Well, no, but after a while, like you say, I get the picture.”
He grinned. “You're not mad?”
“No.”
“Because I really did get interested in your stories. I wasn't faking that. They got to me. You started making me see how sheltered I was. That I'm actually pretty spoiled.”
“Jonatan. You cannot help you have a nice life. Why you always feel so bad about it? Your family have the kind of life I want for myself. When I see how people can live here, I want to make that my goal.”
“But you were just saying you wanted to be a doctor and help people.”
“I do, but I also want a family and a house. I want to have enough money so I don't have to worry how am I gonna feed my children. I want to have a car so I can bring them to the pretty place like this. I want—”
“Coming about” his father called, and suddenly the boat swung around and tipped, sails snapping. Sundara lurched toward the water, but just as fast, Jonathan's strong arm pulled her back. Her heart pounded and breath came hard. Was it the scare? Or the realization that he wasn't taking his arm away? … He was holding her tighter. Perhaps it was wrong, but she didn't care. At this moment, no power on earth could make her pull away from him.
And that's when he did it, a most surprising thing.
He reached across her with his free hand and gently tugged loose the crimson ribbon that held the end of her braid.
Startled, then understanding, she slowly undid the plait and combed her fingers through her hair, never taking her eyes from his. The breeze lifted the long black strands.
“It looks so pretty all loose like that.”
A sudden puff of wind skittered the ribbon across the turquoise deck. “Whoops.” Jonathan lunged, but the bit of velvet slipped through his fingers and blew overboard. “Sorry.”
“That okay,” she whispered, a restraining hand on his arm. She wouldn't need it. He liked her hair loose; she did not plan to braid it again.

CHAPTER
10

The next Saturday morning Naro, Soka, and Grandmother left Sundara in charge of the boys and started off for the Chinese grocery store in Salem.
After she'd fastened the chain behind them, Sundara leaned back against the door and sighed. She was not eager to begin shucking the huge pile of corn they had just gleaned from Mr. Bonner's fields. She hadn't minded gathering it. At least she'd been outside in the sparkling autumn morning. But now, to be stuck inside, knowing it was another golden day out there … a golden day like last Saturday, when she'd gone sailing with Jonathan.
Finally she went into the kitchen and dropped to a crouch beside the corn, which was spread on a mat. But before she could even make a start, the doorbell rang. She rose again, brushing off her sarong, and padded over to open the door. She peered out.
“Jonatan” Hastily she unfastened the door chain.
“Hi. Hey, what's with the chain? This is Willamette Grove, remember?”
“Jonatan, why you come here?”
“I just thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted to go for a drive.” Behind him she saw a tan sports car. He looked puzzled. “What's wrong?”
“My aunt and uncle go out. I supposed to take care my cousins.” Lucky for her they
were
out. If Soka found a white skin on the front step asking for her …
“Oh. Well, when do you think they'll get back?”
“Jonatan.” She shook her head, shuddering. He just didn't understand at all.
“Hey, this must be Pon.”
Curious, the boys had left their TV football game and crept up behind her. Pon braved a look.
“Hi, buddy” To Sundara's horror, Jonathan reached out and ruffled the little boy's hair.
Naturally, Pon pulled back, clinging to Sundara's sarong.
“You're not really supposed to do that,” Ravy said.
“Ravy!”
“Well, we ought to tell him, don't you think?”
“What'd I do?” Jonathan said, bewildered.
“Cambodians think it's bad to touch a little kid's head,” Ravy said. “It might make them lose their intelligence. Or their soul.”
“Whoa! I wouldn't want to be responsible for that.”
“Never mind,” she said, a bit annoyed. Was he fighting a smile?
“I guess I should have called first,” he said.
She shook her head. What good would that have done? It wasn't a question of calling ahead—her people didn't believe in that anyway. The problem was his being here at all. Look at him, standing there. Clearly he had no idea why he wasn't being treated to a warmer reception. But why hadn't he taken her seriously when she explained how her aunt and uncle felt about these things?
“I wish I can go,” she said. “I really do.” Her eyes flickered to the street behind him. It was probably safe to ask him in; wouldn't Soka herself say it was only proper to show respect to a guest, even an unexpected one? She hesitated. “Do you want to come in?”
He pointed to the the pairs of shoes lined up by the mat. “Am I supposed to take my shoes off?”
“You don't have to.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and smiled. “It
is
good to see you.”
She led the way into the living room, suddenly aware of the garlic smell that still lingered from last night's dinner. Would that bother him? What would he think of the plastic runners Soka insisted they walk on to protect the carpet? Perhaps their house was all wrong in ways she wasn't even aware of.
Seeing him looking at a collection of framed pictures on a cloth-covered table, Sundara picked one up. “This my family. One picture—that's all I have. Not much compare to your scrapbook!”
They smiled at each other, some of the familiar warmth returning. Together they looked at the photo: a handsome young couple with their three children.
“This Samet, Mayoury, and me.” She sighed. “Look at my happy little-girl face.”
“You were cute.” He looked at her. “Still are.”
Her palms flew to her cheeks. He had such a way of pulling her away from the past, keeping her right here in the present.
He was still studying the picture. “Is that background supposed to be Angkor Wat?”
She beamed. “You know a lot about my country.” Who would imagine an American would know about the ancient temples her people had built in the jungle long ago?
“My report, you know.”
Ravy stared up at Jonathan. “You really Jonathan Mc-Kinnon, the football player?”
“ ‘Fraid so.” Jonathan shifted from one foot to the other, making a face. “Maybe after last night I shouldn't admit it.” The team had lost to North Salem.
“But still, when you went out for that pass … that was great! Boy, if I'd known you were
the
Jonathan Mc-Kinnon when I sold you those golf balls. …”
“I could've gotten a better deal?”
Ravy grinned. “I'm willing to negotiate in the future.”
Jonathan laughed. He took another look around the room, his gaze coming to rest on a framed print, a girl with blond braids and wooden shoes standing in front of a windmill.
“I hope you won't think this is rude,” he said, “but is there some special reason you've got a picture of Holland on your wall?”
Sundara had to giggle. “The church people give to us. We just hang up, you know, so the wall won't be empty? We don't even know what it is.”
“You think that's weird,” Ravy said, “you should have seen this place at first. It was two years before I figured it out and broke the news to my mom that everything she'd put up was supposed to be a Christmas decoration!”
Suddenly, the roar of a car in the driveway.
“Oh, no,” Sundara whispered. “Somebody come.”
“It's Mama,” Pon called from the front door.
“Great,” Jonathan said. “Maybe you can take off after all.”
Sundara stared at him. If only she could make hin disappear. She heard Pon reporting loudly in Khmer that a white skin had touched his head.
Soka came in. She gave Jonathan a sharp glance, then spread on a smile.
“This my aunt Soka,” Sundara whispered. “She forget her list.” Then, with lowered lids, she spoke in rapid Khmer, desperately explaining about Jonathan's report on Cambodia.
“Happy to meet Sundara school friend.”
Jonathan was still looking open, vulnerable. Didn't he understand about smiles that were only for politeness?
“My parents were also happy to meet Sundara last weekend.”
Heaven protect her, no! As Soka cocked her head, puzzled, Sundara made big eyes of alarm at Jonathan.
Clearly bewildered, Jonathan plunged ahead. “When she went sailing with us?”
Soka's eyes narrowed. Sundara shot him one last look of undiluted terror before fixing her gaze on the floor.
“I just stopped to see if Sundara wanted to go for a drive.”
Soka forced another smile. “You too kind to my niece. We appreciate, but you too busy, have too many important thing to do.”
“No, no, I'm not too busy. I'd really like to take her.”
So
foolish.
Couldn't he see he was just making this worse? Sundara clasped her hands, ready to beg for the mercy she was going to need.
“Ooohhh … you so nice/’ Soka said, “but my niece have too many job today. Take care kid, mow the lawn, study.”
Sundara sensed him looking to her for help, interpretation, anything, but it was no use. The situation was past all hope now. She couldn't even meet his eyes.
“Okay.” He started for the door. “Nice to meet you,” he said, sounding defeated. “See you at school, Sundara.”
She stood rooted to the spot, her good-bye barely audible.