The Scavenger's Daughters (Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters, Book One) (30 page)

“Do you want me to walk you to your house?” he asked. “Help you carry all the goodies for your sisters?”

Linnea shook her head. She knew if he came in, her sisters would never let him leave. They needed to get up early and get started on the rest of the cleanup list and gathering the information Jet’s mother had asked for.

“No, that’s okay, Jet. Please thank your mother again for wrapping up all these leftovers for the girls. They’ll go crazy when they see what I’ve got.” She perched the bag on her lap. “But will I see you tomorrow?”

Jet lowered his voice and raised his eyebrows a few times, really flirting with her now. “Do you
want
to see me tomorrow?”

Linnea sighed. He didn’t have a clue how much she wanted to see him tomorrow—and the next day and the next day after that. She still wanted to ask him why
he
wanted to see
her
. Especially after witnessing the way his family lived, it was hard to believe that he would be interested in her, just a girl from the poor side of town. For the first time in her life, she wished she lived in a grand house with a decent courtyard.

“Sure, if you want to come by, we can go over everything we talked about with your mom. I can give you the information she asked for.” She fiddled with the door handle. She still couldn’t get over how amazing Jet’s parents were.

“Will we have any
alone
time?” he asked, his voice low and sexy.

“No. But you’ll have pesky little girls climbing all over you. That should take care of your constant need for attention.” She squinted at him for effect.

“I don’t mind. I’ll do whatever it takes, Linnea, to spend time with you. Here, let me get that.” He leaned over her to open the door. As his head passed close to her face he paused.

Linnea breathed deeply, inhaling the clean, crisp smell of him. She felt that familiar fluttering again. It intensified tenfold when his hand brushed over her lap as he unlocked the door for her.

“How about one more kiss, Lin?”

He leaned in and once again, planted his burning hot mouth over hers. As usual, all logical thought drained from her brain immediately. When he
pulled back, she felt an instant of weakness, then kissed him softly on the cheek before he could move. She didn’t know why she did it—she just did. Then she immediately felt stupid.

Jet put his hand to his face and his eyes widened with mock surprise.

“
Aiya,
girl. That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Linnea was confused. She reached up and touched her mouth. “A mark? But I’m not wearing anything on my lips.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he answered, smiling. “I meant it’s gonna leave a mark on my heart. Who knew under all that sass was a little bit of sweetness?”

Linnea felt her face turn hot, and she opened the door and quickly climbed out.

“Good night, Jet,” she said as she pushed the door and walked away, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. She couldn’t believe she’d just given him a silly little butterfly kiss. She suddenly wished she was more experienced than she actually was.

Just before the door shut behind her, she thought she heard him chuckle.

B
enfu sat impatiently on the side of the bed as Calli bent to tie his shoes for him. She’d already packed up all of his clothes and things and now they waited for the discharge nurse to come with his papers. His patience was just about gone.

It had been a long night full of dreams—or memories—as he supposed they were one and the same. The nurse had come in halfway through the night and given him something to help him sleep. Instead of the blissful rest he craved, he’d spent the next few hours reliving the nightmare of being imprisoned in the collective so many years ago. It was so real he felt he could still smell the putrid waste from the outhouse that was his jail cell. He had woken himself up a few times by tossing and turning to shake the invisible mites and flies from his skin. The shame and resentment had welled up in him again, as fresh as it was decades ago when his only transgression was being born to intellectual parents. Even in his dream he fretted that they’d find his possessions and he’d lose the one thing that held his sanity together, the hope that his precious violin still waited.

The dream had finally ended but he’d woken feeling that desperate need to run that had fueled him the night he’d escaped. He realized that it all probably had to do with his urge to get out of the hospital. Then his thoughts of losing his daughters filled his head and made him miserable—so asleep he was tortured by memories and awake he was bothered by what he
must do. He supposed a life of no peace was now what remained of his short future.

“There you are. Now, do we have everything?” Calli asked, straightening up and putting her hands on her hips.

“I guess so, everything except my pride.”

Benfu raised his eyebrows as Calli giggled. She had already teased him that morning that at least half a dozen young, pretty girls had seen his backside in the few weeks he’d been there. He’d had so many shots he felt like a human pincushion.

He was so relieved he was finally going home. After almost a month of hospital care, he wanted to see his girls, even if it was only temporary. The hospital guidelines were so strict that they hadn’t been allowed to come up to his floor to see him, and he had been too sick to venture to the bottom floor. Linnea was the only one allowed in, as she could pass for much older. The girls had stayed at home but at least Linnea had been able to bring several cards and letters from his grown daughters, a welcome distraction of anecdotes and snippets of their lives from far away. The message had spread that he was sick and his daughters were showing their concern the only way they could, with words of encouragement.

Benfu hoped they weren’t too worried. Most of them led difficult enough lives without worrying about a fragile old man such as he.

Calli finished with his shoes and stood in front of him, making him think she could read his mind with her next words. “You ready to go home, old man?”

She didn’t know just how ready he was. He was so tired of looking at the same soiled walls and ceiling in the small, sterile room. He was tired of hearing the incessant clicking of heels up and down the halls at all hours day and night. He was sick of having too much time to think, and most of all, he was tired of being poked, prodded, and treated like an invalid. He wasn’t naïve. He knew he had a long road ahead of him to recuperate—if he even stood a chance at getting better. But first he needed to get home and figure out how he was going to get some income flowing to buy the needed medication to
keep him going. And from what Calli had told him, Linnea had been making ends meet to feed everyone, but there were bills to pay and things that she didn’t even know to worry about. Her help was appreciated but would soon stop, as once things were settled, she’d be living under a new roof. That thought sliced through him like a razor and he pushed it away.

He nodded to Calli in response to her question. He didn’t feel like talking. He had too much on his mind.

“Now you get that look off your face,
Laoren
. You’re worried and already thinking of how you are going to fix everything. And you wonder where Linnea gets her stubbornness from. You cannot be doing anything; you have to concentrate on getting better,” she scolded.

“
Hao le,
I know, I know,” he reassured her. He was concerned about her, too. She wouldn’t admit it but she was exhausted from her vigil and weeks of caring for him. He looked at her familiar wrinkled face, her dark hair streaked with gray and pulled into the elegant bun, and his eyes misted over. When he looked at her he didn’t see the lines of worry she’d earned over the years or the brittle hair. He still saw the creamy-skinned, dark-haired girl who had selflessly hid him in the back of their home until she could talk her parents into allowing him to stay. He’d never forget how she cared for the deep wounds around his wrists, wrapped his ribs, and brought him his first bites of real food he’d had in weeks—food that was taken from her own daily allowance and given to him without even a spark of regret. She’d saved his life; there was no other way to put it.

A few days ago he’d begged her to go home and get some rest. But in her usual stubborn fashion she’d retorted that they’d never spent a night apart in all of their years together, and they weren’t going to start such nonsense now.

Benfu knew he was a lucky old man. How he’d ever earned enough good karma to deserve her devotion he would never know. The old saying that women were weak and made of water must have been dreamed up by someone who’d never met someone like his own Calla Lily.

“What are you thinking of now, Benfu? That serious expression you are giving is worrying me.”

Benfu reached over and took both of Calli’s hands in his. He rubbed his thumbs over her soft palms. A woman such as she deserved to be bejeweled in precious jade and dressed in the finest silks. But here she sat, simple yet beautiful in her worn cotton and tiny white pearl earrings.

The same question he’d pondered for years now burned inside of him. He just had to ask. He needed to finally know.

She gave him a small smile; then when he didn’t return it, it disappeared.

“Calli, I need to ask you something.”

“What, Benfu? You’re scaring me.”

“You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if I haven’t been enough?” He searched her eyes.

“Enough what?” She shook her head in confusion.

“Just”—he paused—
“enough.”

Calli gave a small laugh, then let go of his hands and leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek.

“You silly old man, of course you’ve been enough. As a matter of fact, you’ve been more than enough. You’ve been
everything
I’ve ever wanted or needed,” she whispered in his ear.

Benfu felt tears spring to his eyes; then he heard plastic shoes slapping in the hall.

He cleared the lump in his throat and brushed away the moistness just as the nurse came through the door and stood next to the bed. She fiddled with the papers on the clipboard, then handed Benfu the pen.

“Sign everywhere I marked an
X
,” she said. Her voice matched the briskness of her crisp white nurse’s uniform. Benfu thought she didn’t appear much older than Linnea, but he was impressed with her diligence. As a matter of fact, his stay in the hospital had shown him just how much the nurses ran the place. He had rarely even seen the doctors.

“What’s the total amount owed?” Benfu asked with a confident voice that hid his anxiety at the expected answer. He began signing at the appropriate places as the nurse pointed them out.

The nurse shook her head, her tiny white cap bobbing back and forth. “We’ll send you a copy of the bill. I’ve been told it is still being processed.”

Benfu looked at her and raised his eyebrows. It was unusual for a hospital not to demand payment before services and downright strange to still prolong it at the time of discharge. They had bypassed the admitting deposit with the official chop of Jet’s family name, but Benfu had expected to get hit with the final billing on the last day. Even the heavy ball of stress in his stomach had been anticipating the numbers all morning.

“Can I see someone in charge? I don’t even know what I’m signing for!” He didn’t want to leave without knowing what was going on with his debt.

“Not today. There’s a big meeting going on—all the doctors are there.” The nurse efficiently took the clipboard from him, then waved on her way out the door. “You’re free to go.”

“Come on, Benfu. We can worry about this later.” Calli nudged him toward the door. She picked up the plastic bags carrying his clothes and supplies, and followed him out the door.

In the hall they stood to the side to allow a team of staff to fly by them with somebody on a stretcher. Benfu pushed himself flat against the wall to give them room, and as they passed, he briefly locked eyes with the old man who struggled to breathe under an oxygen mask. It shook him up, as he imagined that was just what he looked like on the day he was admitted. He was scared; he didn’t want to die and leave his girls, especially his Calli. And he never wanted them to see him look like that.