Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (23 page)

Maybe that was why I was abandoned.

Mari was taken aback by the suspicion that snuck up on her. She hadn’t thought of her birth parents in many years. She’d purposely shut them out of her mind—and her heart. Baba and Mama were all she had room for, and the ones who hadn’t wanted her didn’t deserve any space she might have left over. But now, feeling so overwhelmed about the girls, she felt the first stirrings of mercy toward her birth parents. Her baba said everything was a lesson.
Is this what fate is trying to teach me? To let go of my bitterness? Focus on compassion?
She’d thought she’d shown her humanity while taking care of her sick husband, but perhaps that wasn’t enough. Perhaps to feel at peace, she had to also let go of all the repressed resentment she’d carried since she was a child?

Mei giggled again, bringing Mari back to the present. The kettle whistled, and Mari poured hot water into the plastic bowls, popped the chopsticks in, and carried them to the living room. She handed one to Mei and set the other on the small table beside the sofa so that An Ni could reach it. “Be careful, girls. It’s really hot.”

The girls dug in as if they were at the fanciest banquet in town instead of holding bowls of instant noodles. Mari smiled, watching them eat with gusto. The days in the shack must’ve been rough.

She heard a knock on the door and crossed the room. When she opened it, expecting her parents, she was pleasantly surprised to see Max standing there, juggling at least a half-dozen bulging plastic bags.

“
Ni hao
.” She moved aside so he could come in.

“Hi, Mari.” He turned to the girls as he hurried to the table to set the bags down. “
Ni hao
!”

Mei giggled at him, and Mari saw An Ni trying to hide a smile behind the bowl she held to her mouth. Mari was sure the girls weren’t used to foreigners—especially handsome ones, at that.

“Everything okay?” Max looked from her to the girls again.

Other than the fact I’m impoverished and the girls have head lice—what isn’t okay?
Mari thought. “
Dui
, everything is fine. What did you bring?” she asked.

Max started pulling things out of the bags and slinging them onto the floor in front of the couch. Girls’ clothes—all pinks and reds, prissy and sparkly—soon littered the floor. On top of those, at least four pairs of new shoes.

“I’m not sure if I got the right sizes. I told the woman one girl was this tall,”—he held a hand up to just over his waistline—“and the other was this tall.” He raised his hand to his chest.

Mei practically threw her empty noodle bowl into Mari’s hands as she dived onto the floor and began finding the items that looked like her size. Mari’s pink robe swallowed her, making her even more hilarious as she held each shirt, pants, or sweater up and exclaimed over it, or threw it to the couch to land beside An Ni.

An Ni picked each item up hesitantly, looked for a moment, then set it aside.

“Max, you shouldn’t have done that,” Mari whispered. But
aiya
, was she glad he did. She just couldn’t bring herself to ask her parents to part with their limited funds to clothe the girls she’d brought home. It wouldn’t be right. She’d been thinking of selling her television set to get some funds, but Max had come through. Now she could save the television for bigger things—like another month’s rent.

He started unloading the other bags and setting grocery items on the table, then looked up at Mari. “I know you probably cleaned out your pantry because you were leaving, so I thought I’d help you fill it back up.”

He set a huge bottle of the finest oil on the table next to a bag of rice. Soon there were piles of fruits, vegetables, and several different cuts of meats—
Oh, the meats
!—covering the surface. For a moment Mari thought of Bolin and his staunch vegetarian ways. Then she remembered he didn’t have an opinion anymore. This was her kitchen. Her life. He’d chosen not to live it with her. And she’d be cooking
meat
for the girls!

Tears of gratitude and relief filled her eyes, and she looked down at the floor. Max came to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Mari? Is this okay?”

She didn’t answer. The lump in her throat prevented her from speaking.

“Oh man, I’m so sorry,” Max muttered. “Did I break some kind of cultural code? Oh great, I’m an idiot. I am, aren’t I? Just say it.”

Mari shook her head, then met Max’s eyes. He looked like a hurt little boy, wringing the empty bag between his hands. And he looked exhausted. “No, Max. I’m very thankful. You have no idea just how thankful. Don’t worry—you did exactly the right thing.”

A smile spread across his face, then he turned his attention to An Ni. “Figure out what you want to wear, Princess. You and I have a date with Doctor What’s-His-Face.”

An Ni looked at Mari questioningly.

Mari translated, “He said after you’re dressed and get your belly full, he’s taking you to the hospital to get your meds. We’ll go when my parents return and can stay with Mei,
hao le
?”

An Ni nodded. Mari didn’t think she mistrusted Max, but he was a foreigner, after all. Not to mention his Mandarin wasn’t that great, so Mari could see how it could be awkward for An Ni to go with him alone.

While Max helped Mei fold up the new clothes, Mari went to the kitchen and began putting away the food. She piled all the fruit into the top basket in the hanging tier of three. Then she added the potatoes and onions to the bottom two. Everything else went into the cupboard and refrigerator, and when she’d put the last item in place, the door opened again and her parents were back.

Mari turned just in time to see her baba’s eyes flash with surprise when he saw Max on the couch. Mari’s mama smiled as usual, then crossed the room and laid her own bags on the table. It was obvious by their body language that they both knew the friendship between her and Max had risen to a new level—but just what that level was, Mari herself hadn’t figured out.

“Now let’s get this soup going,
nuer,
” her mama said and winked at Mari.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A
n Ni ate slowly, savoring the broth of the delicious soup Mari’s mama had made again. It eased down her throat like a slow river of comfort while she watched everyone around the table. Even after two weeks of living in close quarters with them, she was still wary. Always on guard—that was what her life on the streets had taught her to be.

Mari had fretted over leaving her on the couch again, but since her cast was so big and awkward, it was just easier for her to stay there. And An Ni didn’t mind—it gave her the opportunity to study them while they all gathered around the table.

An Ni wasn’t sure what Max, as Mari said to call him, was saying but she heard her name. Mari rose and brought over a steaming bowl of three or four dumplings, putting them on the table beside her. Mari’s mother had said they needed some meat to go with the healthy soup, so she’d made dumplings. And not just street dumplings like An Ni had eaten once in a while when a vendor had been too busy looking the other way—but real home-cooked ones filled with spicy pork and so light they melted in her mouth.

“
Xie xie
,” she told Mari, leaving out that she’d already had a half-dozen of the dumplings that the old woman had slipped her as she’d cooked them. Max smiled from the table, urging her to eat more.

An Ni listened as Mari’s baba asked questions and Max struggled to answer. Mari acted as a translator to most of it, but An Ni wished she’d just let Max try to say it all. His Chinese wasn’t
that
bad, and it gave them all something to laugh at.

Mari turned to Max. “My father wants to know why a journalist would want to come to China?”

An Ni wondered that herself, when Mari had explained to her what Max did. She waited to see what answer he’d give the old man.

“China has only opened up to the rest of the world very recently, and it still harbors many stories that would be valuable for all to know,” Max said.

“The written word is sacred to China,” Mari’s baba began. “When for so many years the government forbade any sort of reading or writing, other than to study Mao’s words—to finally have the same freedoms of the rest of the world is not something most Americans, who have only known free press and a flood of books and newspapers, would understand.”

When Mari finished speaking for her baba, Max nodded solemnly.

“I agree. That’s why I’d love to hear your stories—even record them into history so that your descendants could have whatever wisdom you want to impart with your memories.”

“I’ve held my memories and my stories close to my heart for so long, it’d take an ice pick to finally pry them loose,” Mari’s baba said.

Mari’s mama put her spoon down. “In the old days, the written word was really honored. Now it’s splashed all over the place—billboards, walls, bridges. Back when I was a girl, it was believed that it had so much power that sorcerers would write a few characters on a piece of paper and stick it to the front of houses to ward off evil.”

Max looked captivated by her words, making An Ni wondered if he understood all of what she said, possibly understood more Chinese than they all thought. An Ni brought another dumpling to her mouth as she watched the emotions play across his face. He intrigued her. He was always looking out for her, making sure she had enough to eat, or that she was comfortable and not in pain. Why was a foreigner so interested in
her
? And just the fact that she’d found his wallet in a random train car and then, weeks later, Mei had picked him out of the crowd to come help her at the shack was too bizarre to understand. It made An Ni wonder if their Guanyin had directed Mei to him. It was their Guanyin’s photo, after all, that was found in his wallet.

An Ni was glad that when the ember had popped out of the fire, setting their shack ablaze, that she’d been able to stand long enough to pick the photo off the desk and stuff it into the stolen bag before falling back to the floor and crawling out and into the shelter of the trees. She’d been so scared but now she was thankful the stray spark hadn’t jumped onto the rice bag when they’d both been sleeping. They probably both would have died from inhaling the thick smoke before they’d gotten out. Since then, no one knew it, but she’d used the big purse for other items. She wasn’t going to be left back on the street with nothing. The bag was in the crack between the couch and the wall, and in the last few weeks, she’d added coins she’d found in the crack of the couch, a warm knitted hat for Mei, and even several packaged snacks that Mari’s baba had brought and laid on the table for them. She knew she was hoarding things that didn’t belong to her, and that it was wrong. But she’d be at least a bit prepared when it was time to go.

She continued to eavesdrop on the conversation at the table, to them talking about her and her progress. She loved the sound of Mari’s voice and could listen to it all day. All of them were kind to her, but it was Mari that made her feel protected and even wanted.

“The doctor said that based on her white blood cell count today, the infection is retreating nicely,” Mari said.

Mari’s baba added his thoughts and concerns that maybe they should let her see another doctor for a second opinion to be sure. Mari’s mama patted her husband’s hand as she nodded in agreement. An Ni watched them and the way they acted. If she’d ever known grandparents, she imagined they’d be just like those two. Always hovering over her and Mei, making sure they were warm enough and had enough to eat. But she didn’t like the idea of seeing yet another doctor.

Going back and forth to the hospital with Mari and Max was interesting, but An Ni would be glad when it was over. Mari told her she’d only known Max for a few weeks, but to An Ni they seemed like really good friends. The first few times, Max had carried her from the taxi into the hospital again, and he hadn’t even struggled. He was strong—and tall. When he’d come through the door with her in his arms, every person in the hospital waiting room had turned to stare, as if she was a movie star or something. Now she’d figured out how to walk on the cast, and she was able to get around by herself—with a little help, of course. But having a tall foreigner with her still brought her a lot of attention, even if he wasn’t carrying her.

“And what about the surgery he said she might have to have?” Nai Nai, her new name for Mari’s mother, asked.

“He thinks she’ll be fine without the operation. The cast comes off in another two weeks, then he’ll say for sure.”

An Ni was glad to hear that. She needed to hurry and get healthy so that she could try to find Mei’s family. An Ni knew from experience that nothing good ever lasted, so she wouldn’t be able to count on Mari and Max—she needed to get a plan in place for Mei. It was her responsibility to take care of the girl, and she wouldn’t trust anyone else to get her home.

Suddenly she remembered that Max had taken the paper that Mei had drawn her grandfather’s store on. Max’s photo was on the front of it, and she’d been so delirious with pain she hadn’t realized she’d need to keep it. He’d also asked her about the other things that had been in his wallet, but An Ni had lied, telling him she’d thrown it all away.

“Mari?” she called out.

Mari turned to her to see what she needed, her chopsticks holding a dumpling in midair.

“I gave Max a piece of paper the first day in the hospital. Will you tell him I need it back?”

Mari conveyed her message, and Max turned to her. “But it’s the copy of my passport. Why do you need it?”

After translating, Mari waited for her to explain.

An Ni tried to give a look of warning to Mei, but the girl was too deep in her dumplings to pay any attention. “Mei drew me a picture on it while we were in the shack, and I just want to keep it.”

Mari told Max what she said, and he nodded, then dug in his pocket. An Ni was relieved he hadn’t lost it. Who knew if Mei could draw the same details she’d drawn before?

He unfolded the paper and started to get up to bring it to her, but Mei saw it first.

“That’s mine!” Mei jerked it out of his hand and held it up for everyone to see. “This is my Ye Ye’s store.”

An Ni sighed. This wasn’t going as planned.

“Your Ye Ye?”

Max looked confused, and An Ni could see that he’d definitely understood at least part of her announcement. But she wasn’t ready for anyone else to know the little bit she did. An Ni struggled to her feet, balancing on her good leg as she held the cast out. “Give me that, Mei.”

Without saying a word, Mari’s baba held his hand out, and Mei obediently laid the paper in it. He studied it for a moment, then looked up. “Your grandfather owns a clock shop?”

Mei nodded. “
Dui le
. His shop has really old clocks. He calls me his
pínggu
o
z
i
.”

“Do you know the name of it? Or what town it’s in?” Mari asked, her voice escalating with excitement.

“
Bushi
, I don’t know,” Mei answered.

An Ni waited, holding her breath. If anyone recognized it, that would make her job even easier. But then on the other hand, they might take Mei there before An Ni was ready to say good-bye. For in her heart, she knew that Mei’s family wouldn’t take her in. Why would they, when she was a connection to the street gang that Mei had been forced into?

Max spoke, then Mari’s baba handed him the paper. He studied it.

“Is this a giant teapot sitting on the roof?” He pointed at the paper.

Mari translated the question to Mei. She nodded. An Ni felt like throwing a blanket over her head so she’d just stop.

Max looked up, a smile spreading across his face. “I know where this is.”

Everyone started talking at once, confusing An Ni even more. “What did he say, Mari?”

“He said he knows where Mei’s grandfather’s store is.”

An Ni didn’t know what to feel. She sat back down on the couch, suddenly hungry no more.