Lottery (25 page)

“When your father gave me your hand in marriage, I promised forever.” He brought her palm to his lips. “I intend to carry out that promise.”

“Then what’s happening to you? To us?” Ling pleaded.

“I”—he looked up, trying to think of something—“I don’t want to burden you.”

She scooted toward him. “Burden me with what?”

“Tell her your dad’s dying,” Weber intervened.

“I … I heard from my dad.” Bowing his head, he rubbed his eyes with two fingers. “A few weeks ago.” Caleb turned toward Ling. “Cancer.”

“What?” She sat up straight, her eyes wide. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“You have so much going on … I didn’t want to bother you.”

“But Caleb”—Ling put a hand on his shoulder—“that’s what marriage is all about.”

He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s just that my dad and I were never close, and it looks like we never will be.”

“Do you want to go see him? Because we can cancel this trip if—”

“No,” Caleb said firmly. “They’ve given him six to eight months. I’ll go when it gets worse.”

“Where is it?” Ling asked. “The cancer?”

“Brain,” Caleb lied.

“Oh, God, honey.” She placed her hand on his bare chest.

“When we have kids … I swear, I’ll be a better father than he was,” he said, his voice wavering.

“I know that,” she soothed. “Right now you need to know you can trust me.”

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Justin gets here tomorrow and we leave on Saturday. You going to be okay to go to Shanghai?”

“I’ll be fine.”

She lay back down, pulling at his arm to lie down beside her.

“The drinking,” he started.

“I understand. It has to be hard.”

“It’s over,” Caleb said, and meant it.

He felt guilty lying to her, and prayed to God she wouldn’t call his mother and ask about his dad. But then, neither Ling nor Caleb had talked with his parents since the wedding.

“I’m so sorry,” Ling whispered and laced her fingers through his. “I’ll always be here for you.”

He spooned into her, feeling the warmth of her body and smelling her sweet fragrance. He had to protect Ling from finding out what Weber had done. Like he’d told Sam, it was a husband’s job to protect his wife.

aleb was still asleep when Ling rolled out of bed. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she saw it was five-thirty. Between Caleb’s nightmare, and the stress he must have gone through finding out about his father, he needed his sleep. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent who was dying, especially one who’d never once told his son that he loved him. Ling’s own father had never shown her anything but love.

She dressed quietly, and picked up the basket of dirty clothes in the bathroom. On her way out of the bedroom, she grabbed Caleb’s shorts and shirt on the chair.

The house was quiet when she turned on the light in the kitchen. Jenee was probably exhausted from the flight and wouldn’t be up for awhile.

She carried the basket into the laundry room off the kitchen. When she’d lived above her father’s laundromat, she only had to drop her clothes off downstairs. But now, it felt good to do the things regular housewives do.

She sprayed the collar of Caleb’s shirt with a stain remover and tossed it into the washer. After she picked up the shorts on top of the pile, Ling checked the pockets. Her hand caught on a
piece of paper and she took it out. When she realized the scribbled hand-written receipt with a date of yesterday was from a hotel, she froze. Caleb had been in a motel last night? And what kind of a motel had hand-written receipts? What in the world was going … oh, God, he
was
having an affair.

She stumbled backward a few steps and sat down on the combination ladder/ stool in the corner, still staring at the paper. He’d told her he’d met a friend. Had he lied to her?

“Ling?” she heard Caleb call.

Quickly stuffing the receipt into her pocket, she smoothed back her hair and hurried to the washer. “In here,” she called back. She wasn’t going to confront him. Not yet. She’d give him the opportunity to tell her what this was all about.

“Hey,” Caleb said, and walked to her, the morning paper sandwiched under his arm. Barefoot, in jeans and a short-sleeved undershirt, his hair was mussed and dark circles rimmed his eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

She tossed more clothes into the washer, not looking at him. “Thought you could use the sleep.”

“You washing what I wore last night?”

Her stomach did a flip-flop. “Yes.” She paused. “By the way, how was your friend?” she asked, as she poured Tide into the washer.

He turned and started into the kitchen. “Fine.”

“Where’d you meet him?” she asked, following him.

He turned and gave her confused look. “Bar.”

She felt sick to her stomach and madder than hell. Jenee would be down any minute and the last thing Ling wanted her to see was a confrontation.

She walked to the coffee pot and pushed the switch. Mei always put in the water and coffee grounds the night before, so
all Ling had to do was push the button. “So what was the business he wanted to talk to you about?”

“Huh?” Caleb looked up from the paper. “Oh … one of those multi-level marketing things.” He looked back down at the paper. “Totally not interested.”

It took all of her willpower not to pull out the hotel slip and wave it in his face. Instead, she poured two cups of coffee and walked one of the mugs to him.

He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. “What’s up for today?” Caleb asked, and unfolded the newspaper.

“Going to take Jenee to Chinatown.” She was boiling inside. If Jenee wasn’t staying with them, Ling had no idea what she’d do. Maybe he did meet a friend, but then what?

“Good morning.” Ling turned, and saw Jenee in the doorway, her hair still wet from a shower.

“Good morning,” Ling said, trying to sound cheerful. “How’d you sleep?”

“Amazing.” Jenee walked to the table. “That mattress was like sleeping on air.”

“Coffee?” Ling turned, opened a cupboard and took out a mug.

“You don’t have to wait on me.”

“Oh, like you didn’t wait on
me
when I was in Kansas?” Ling teased.

“Morning, Caleb,” Jenee said, and sat down across from him.

Caleb glanced up. “Glad you slept well.” He went back to reading his paper.

Ling put the steaming cup of brew in front of Jenee. “How about we have breakfast in Chinatown?” she asked Jenee. If she didn’t get away from Caleb, she might say something she’d regret.

“Want me to escort you two?” Caleb grinned.

Ling shook her head. “It’s girls’ day out.”

An hour later, Jenee and Ling were dressed and in the cab. “I have to stop somewhere first. It’ll just take a sec,” Ling told Jenee. She’d put the receipt in her purse, remembering the address. She couldn’t believe she was really doing this; she never thought she’d have to check on Caleb. She wanted to trust him, but he was hiding something.

She’d looked up the address of the Bay Hotel on the computer and found it was on Eddy Street. Wasn’t that in the Tenderloin? Caleb was in the Tenderloin?

When the driver pulled up in front of the hotel, Ling couldn’t believe her eyes. The dilapidated building looked like a place for druggies and prostitutes. The sign above the door was crooked, garbage surrounded the entrance, and a couple of heavily made-up women wearing next-to-nothing were huddled together a few feet away from the door.

God, had he hired a hooker? What if he’d caught a disease? And just how long had this been going on?

“You going in there?” Jenee’s voice interrupted Ling’s thoughts. “Looks like kind of a scary place. You want me to come with you?”

Ling shook her head. “I’ll just be a sec.” Jenee had to be wondering what was going on. Why did this have to happen now?

She stepped inside, walking across the worn carpet. Standing at the high-topped reservation desk that looked like it was going to crumble any minute, Ling suddenly had second thoughts. Maybe she should leave. No … she was already here. She hit the bell. A few seconds later, a disheveled man in overalls and a gray T-shirt sauntered out from the back room, yawning.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I was wondering if you were working last night.” Ling asked timidly, taking out her billfold and opening it.

“Who wants to know?”

His eyes were watering, his pupils dilated, but he wasn’t going to intimidate her. “
I
want to know,” she said, and then quickly realized she was at his mercy. She took out a fifty-dollar bill, put in on the counter, and slapped her hand over it. “I want to know if you recognize someone.”

Staring down at the money, an almost toothless grin came over his face. “For that, I’ll recognize two people.”

She pushed the bill toward him and opened her billfold, flipped through the plastic-covered photos until she found one of herself with Caleb. “Was this man here last night?” Ling pointed at Caleb’s face.

He stared at the picture for a long time, scratching his head. “I … don’t know for sure.”

She took out another twenty and laid it on the desk.

He winked. “No, ma’am, can’t say that he was.” His snatched up both bills greedily.

“You’re sure?” If Caleb hadn’t been here, why did he have a receipt?

“Positive. I’m here day and night, even sleep here, and I’ve never seen that man before.”

“Thanks.” She closed her billfold and stuffed it into her purse.

“But if you ever want to stay here,” he slurred, his eyes taking in every inch of her, “I think we can work something out.”

She marched to the door, opened it, and slid into the backseat of the cab.

“Everything okay?” Jenee asked with a concerned look on her face.

Ling nodded and turned toward the window.

After breakfast on the wharf, they walked to Chinatown, stopping in all of the shops. It was fun for Ling to see Jenee so excited and taking in everything the quaint suburb had to offer.
She bought a T-shirt for Baileigh that said, “My mommy was in Chinatown,” and picked up a silk scarf for her mother.

Ling stopped in front of the dry cleaning business her father had owned. “This is the business my dad started,” Ling said proudly, looking up. “That’s where I lived until Caleb and I got married.”

“Are there apartments up there?” Jenee asked.

“Two. My parents lived in one, I lived across the hall.”

“Do you miss it?” Jenee asked, as they continued on down the street.

“Incredibly.”

When they came to Hunan Homes Chinese Restaurant, Ling stopped. “We have to have lunch here.”

The restaurant was an icon in Chinatown, and the long narrow eatery was packed. With booths that hugged two walls, and a few tables crowded together in the middle, the kitchen was in the back.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Jenee asked over lunch.

Ling took a bite of the sweet and sour soup and then rested her spoon in the bowl. She stared across the table at Jenee for a few seconds, wondering if she should tell her. “You mean the stop at the hotel?”

“I can tell something’s bothering you.” Jenee put her elbows on the table and intertwined her fingers together. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Ling wiped her mouth with a white cloth napkin. She didn’t want to burden Jenee with her problems, especially since this trip was supposed to be an exciting adventure for Jenee and Justin.

“You’ve hardly eaten anything,” Jenee said.

Ling wanted to tell someone, and felt Jenee could be trusted. Waiting until a waitress passed by, Ling leaned over the table toward Jenee. “I found something in Caleb’s pocket this
morning.” She paused, trying to hold back tears. “A receipt from that hotel we stopped at.”

Jenee wrinkled up her nose. “But what would Caleb be doing at a place like that?”

Ling shook her head. “I don’t know. I showed the guy behind the desk Caleb’s picture, but he said never seen him before.”

“Think he was telling the truth?”

Ling nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“There has to be an explanation.”