Reclaiming Lily (6 page)

Oh, what chirping! What singing! The shed roof became her roost. Kai flapped her arms and hopped like the injured chick to show the birds what was in her heart. She hopped as the little bird had. Twirled. Hopped—

Something whooshed, like kite tails battling an angry wind. Kai felt herself falling. She opened her mouth to scream, but the breeze captured her voice.

For the span of two wing flaps, Kai hung in the air. Then she banged against the cold hard ground. The Healing Right Hand clawed the dirt.

Dark descended. Heavy weights pinned her limbs. Someone called from far, far away. Kai tried to talk, but pain allowed only groans.

“Little Kai! Little Kai!” finally penetrated the void.

She pried open heavy lids.

Light streamed in and stabbed her eyes. She shut them tight.

“Second Daughter!”

It was Old Grandfather, out in the light. To avoid stabbing pain to her eyes, she must stay in the dark. But she would signal that she heard. She tried to smile, to shake her limbs, but pain halted even a toe wiggle. Oh, what had happened?

“Second Daughter, get up.”

“You must keep her conscious!”

Someone—Father?—slapped her cheeks.

Someone—Mother?—wailed like little Third Daughter.

“Get the doctor!” Father cried.

Feet—Mother’s?—scurried away.

“Second Daughter? Little Dragon?”

It was Old Grandfather, his smoky smell near her head.

“Nod if you can hear me.”

Though the movement of her neck birthed three groans, she obeyed.

“You will not leave us. Do you understand? You and your Healing Right Hand are destined to journey to a faraway land. You will save many people. Are you listening, Second Daughter? It is your fate to embark on an extraordinary quest and bring honor to the family name.”

Fingers probed her head, chest, stomach, limbs, even the Healing Right Hand. Every touch throbbed pain; to battle it, she clung to Old Grandfather’s strange words.

“You must wake up,” Old Grandfather spoke so naturally, so calmly, Kai imagined that she could see pipe smoke. But she could not see anything.

Shouts and rustles began to drown out the strange prophecy.

“Bruises.”

“Maybe a broken arm.”

“It is no matter.” Old Grandfather’s voice soared above the others. Like swallows, conquering rooftops. She tilted her head toward Old Grandfather and his soothing voice.

“She has a Healing Right Hand that will save others . . . and save herself.”

Old Grandfather was magic, like her right hand! Though Kai had not explained its powers, Old Grandfather knew. It birthed four groans for Kai to smile. With an ancestor like Old Grandfather, the fates would heal her. Somehow a Healing Right Hand would be involved. She smiled at her good fortune and slipped into darkness.

China . . . so far from . . . Fort Worth. This luxury hotel conference room.
Kai blinked away images priceless as Dynasty relics and found her bearings, yet her body trembled, remembering that long-ago fall. Summoning strength, she poured a glass of water and assessed the Powells’ reaction to her story.

Reverend Powell drummed the table. His wife pushed back her chair and hugged her arms.
A shield from my story?
Do not worry, mother of Joy. I will say no more
. Intuitively, she refrained from overloading these Christians by recounting the atrocities that had plagued their village in the years after her fall. These Christians would close their ears to how she, aged eleven, and First Daughter, aged fifteen, had salved the bloody wounds Father had received in prison, how she had massaged Father’s stroke-damaged limbs until he could again walk. These Christians would close their eyes to her shampooing of Mother’s yin-yang haircut—half her hair shaved, the other half tangled and thick with lice.

Kai managed to set down her glass without spilling water. She would not tell them that at the ripe old age of eleven, in the shadow of a banyan tree, she had sworn to become a doctor, a profession that seemed best suited to reclaim Chang dignity and provide for Mother and Father.

She gripped Lily’s file until her hands ached. She would not tell them about sleepless nights on the kang, sleepless nights in the dormitory, sleepless nights in the study carrel, sleepless weekends on call. They had not opened their ears to hear about her ordeals, her journeys . . . her life. Using every ounce of control she possessed, she smiled sweetly at the Americans. She would tell them no more, for if she saw another smattering of disgust, disbelief, or disinterest on their picture-window American faces, she might shatter into a million pieces. That would not help Lily. No, that would not help Lily at all.

3

Gloria fisted her hands to keep from biting already chewed fingernails. This healing hand tale proved that Joy’s sister lived in the outer limits of bizarre. She was supposed to trust the life of
her only child
with a complete stranger who trusted the fates? “I just don’t see . . .” A lifetime of acting with social grace spluttered to a halt . . .
what this has to do with Joy . . . if she even
is
your sister.
This woman couldn’t be in God’s plan to save Joy. This woman—

Andrew cupped her hand with familiar reassurance, unfamiliar restraint. In her role as a pastor’s wife, she’d never dared such bluntness . . . except after the church fire. But this woman threatened their Joy, their peace. What if Joy, still in a snit about getting grounded over the graffiti incident, decided to run off with this woman?

“Thanks for sharing your, um, history,” Andrew finally said. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Kai. We’re not questioning your calling as a physician.”

“What is it, then, you question?” A maddening calm coated the doctor’s tone.

“We’re just wondering, with all Joy’s been through, how she’d react to another upheaval. I mean, seventeen’s a pretty rough age—”

“To have your world turned upside down.” Gloria felt her lips curl into a frown. “Your family torn apart.”

“Now, Gloria—”

“Mrs. Powell, I do not intend to tear apart your family.” The woman’s deep-set eyes burned with intensity. Did sisterly love spark that fire?
Doubtful.
Vengeance?
Perhaps.
A physician’s passion to heal?
I don’t think so
.

“I would like to partner with you and Reverend Powell,” the woman continued.

“We have partners. More partners than we can handle.”
Counselors. Teachers. Doctors. Believers. For heaven’s sake, the Lord Jesus himself
.

“I can understand why you might not trust me.”

Gloria’s vision focused on the doctor’s smiling bow lips that revealed nothing of the heart. Another woman had once “partnered” with Daddy to destroy Gloria’s world . . . and her ability to trust. That scar had knitted together nicely, thanks to Andrew, who’d proved that not all men cheated on their family. Andrew, who had shared her passion to adopt Joy.
This woman won’t destroy what Andrew and I have built.

Gloria rested her elbows on her chair arms and searched the doctor’s face as if to discern the motivations of her heart in the flutter of lashes, the narrowing of almond-shaped eyes. How had this woman even managed to
find
them? Surely laws had been broken, privacy acts had been breached . . .

Gloria twisted her wedding ring, desperate to transfer hostility somewhere besides this doctor. Yet she found she could not stop herself as resentment and fear surged. “Tell me, Doctor. Has your life disintegrated in one day? One hour?” Words escaped in a hiss as Gloria visualized blood-red lipstick smeared all over Daddy’s face and neck. “One moment?”

The doctor’s eyes widened until her eyelids disappeared. She crossed her arms and sat motionless. “Why, yes, Mrs. Powell. My world has been knocked off its axis. Would you like to hear about it?” The doctor’s arms unfolded. Her eyes bulged with . . . Gloria blinked. Was this doctor experiencing fear? Anger? The same emotions that tore at Gloria as she battled to again keep her world—
her Joy
—from falling apart?

Andrew nodded. “Of course, Kai. We would like to hear your story.”

As the doctor calmly sipped water and settled into her chair, Gloria fought an urge to scream. Could she sit through another story about China, the land from which they had taken Joy? The land that, through this woman, had returned to reclaim something. What would that something be?

C
HINA, 1968

A far-away rooster crowed. Kai stirred from a dream of pale faces with pale eyelashes and pale blue eyes. Why did the gods plant such strangeness in her head? Blinking, she assured herself that she was Number Two Daughter Kai, safe in a still-warm kang. She edged away from the openmouthed breathing of Number One Daughter Ling, sat up straight, and peered out the window. A cool wind whispered a secret . . .

Beaming, Kai jumped off the kang and twirled about. Sun rays painted golden streaks on their wall and promised a masterpiece. A gift by the fates for the most important day of her life!

As if unaware of the miracle sky, villagers puffed up dust while shuffling to the fields, rusted hoes bobbing on stooped shoulders.

“A Young Pioneer must be prepared.” Kai shivered into the uniform so carefully laid out the night before. “A Young Pioneer must study well. Keep fit.”

Still-sleepy fingers struggled to knot the red scarf, her badge of honor. How she had coveted this symbol of fallen comrades, of blood flowing in Chairman Mao’s veins! Both she and Number One Daughter possessed the scarf . . . but if the fates smiled, today Kai alone would claim the position of class monitor. Mother and Father would beam! Old Grandfather would rock his chair until it, too, creaked with delight!

A groan rose from the kang. Number One Daughter’s lashes fluttered as she rolled over. Even in sleep, the delicate arches of her sister’s brows mirrored her inner character. Kai grabbed Ling’s hand and held it tight. Such beauty, heaped like jewels onto a girl already possessing the loving heart, the loyal ways of one born under the sign of the Dog. The fates had granted riches to their family. Yet Kai must never tempt the fates by speaking of such things.
Modesty brings prosperity
.
I must work hard. Study hard
.
Preserve the Chang name
.

Energized by Confucius and Mao, Kai tugged on Number One Daughter’s hand. “Get up or we’ll be late, you lazy mule!”

“Nasty pig!” Number One Daughter giggled. “Grunting so early in the morning.”

Kai stomped her feet and saluted. “I am no pig. I am a Young Pioneer. I love the Motherland and its people. I must work hard. Modesty brings prosperity.”

Number One Daughter rolled her eyes. “Slogan saying will not help, you silly pig. But the class-monitor position—yes, I know about it—will remove you from your muddy sty.” As if smelling night soil, Ling wrinkled her perfect nose, dangled a dainty foot out of the covers, and shivered into Kai’s arms. The two embraced and giggled as they did when cold nights cocooned them under the kang’s many layers.

From the other room, Third Daughter Mei wailed. The teapot shrieked. Mother chattered in the old dialect with Grandfather, who chuckled and chattered back.

Mother is still home?
Kai held her breath and hurried into the front room.

Her padded Mao jacket nowhere in sight, Mother sat by Old Grandfather and bounced squirming Third Daughter on her knee. Most unusual behavior for Mother on a school day.

“Why are you not at your teacher’s desk?” Kai asked. “Is Third Daughter sick? Are you sick?” She tried to slow a mountain stream of words, but ice-cold water had chilled her veins.

“Good morning, young dragon, breathing fire on all in your path.” Mother fanned her hand, as if to disperse smoke. Her knowing glance at Old Grandfather further troubled the air. Something had disturbed Chang tranquility. Kai was sure of it.

Third Daughter Mei displayed thumbprint dimples, her contentment stilling Kai’s anxiety. Perhaps all was well.

“Put your fire to use,” ordered Mother. “Steep the tea.”

Kai bowed, mainly for Old Grandfather, who puffed with pride at her display of respect. “A cup for you, Mother? Grandfather?” she asked, a mere formality.
As long as the sun shines, the Changs will drink tea!

“Thank you, most kind daughter,” said Mother.

Old Grandfather chuckled and nodded.

“It is my privilege.” Kai bowed low. “But first tell me why you are home. Most honorable Mother,” she added, ducking her head to hide a sly smile.

Silence allowed courtyard clucks and crow caws to fill the room. With arched brows and widened eyes, elder talk in the old dialect zipped from Mother to Old Grandfather. Kai pinched her lips tight and leaned against the stove, whose sure, solid warmth slowed her icy streams. Though questions beat against her chest, she waited. It would never do to interrupt elder talk.

Third Daughter squirmed and fussed, angry that Mother had stopped the bouncing. How Kai wished she could squirm in uneasy situations!