The Wishing Trees (15 page)

Her mother’s parents were both dead, so Mattie didn’t have many people to send postcards to—mainly her aunts, uncles, friends, and a few teachers. She sketched miniature sights from Japan and Nepal between her words, bringing her best memories of the trip to life. A bullet train navigated its way around her words on several cards. Mountains rose on others.

Mattie had also whiled away the hours by sketching her father as he leaned against the doorway. Exaggerating his stubble, she drew his face the way she and her mother had liked to see it—a happy face, with dark whiskers that meant he wasn’t going to work.

Even though Mattie had been angry at him for wanting to head home, her anger hadn’t lasted. They had agreed to continue the trip and had made amends in their own ways. Mattie had done her best not to complain about her knee. She didn’t want him worrying about her, as she understood that her emotions tended to dictate what his would be. If she lay there and cried about her knee, he would be just as miserable.

And while a part of Ian believed that the trip was too hard on Mattie, he understood that she wanted to take it, needed to take it. His misgivings didn’t vanish with the rain, though. He felt as if Kate was continuing to force his hand, and he resented being pushed in an unwelcome direction. For the first time since she had died, a full day passed without him looking at her picture.

The stress of keeping his emotions at bay affected Ian, though he pretended otherwise. Mattie watched him carefully, and he couldn’t let her see his despair. His frustration, bitterness, and sorrow had to be hidden, buried deep behind a bright facade. If Mattie knew how close he was to breaking, what little progress she had made over the past months would be undone.

Ian remembered talking with Kate the day before she died, about how he would raise Mattie alone. He was afraid of doing so and had told Kate as much. What if he couldn’t give Mattie joy and hope? What if he failed her as he had Kate? He’d worked so hard to provide for his family, yet his long nights at the office had only hurt them. If he had been around more, maybe he would have been a bigger help to Kate; maybe she wouldn’t have gotten sick. And perhaps, as Mattie believed, maybe he shouldn’t have pushed Kate so hard to fight. He’d thought that she could beat her illness, that she was strong enough to battle until the end. His love for her had compelled him to press her, but his love had misled him, because she’d listened to him, endured far more pain than was necessary, and died anyway. He had failed her when she needed him most, when he could have made her comfortable. And because of that failing, he didn’t want to push Mattie to climb mountains or ace school or be someone she wasn’t. He just wanted her to be content, if that was possible.

Now, as Ian and Mattie slowly ascended a mountain that was so lush it could have come straight from Tolkien’s
Lord of the Rings
, he followed her up the narrow trail, eyeing fields of flowers near and far. Irises, orchids, and magnolias dominated uncultivated swaths of the valley. Herds of yaks and fields of wheat also loomed in the shadows of the Himalayas. The wheat fields were a light green, and appeared to glow in the sunlight. Bamboo fences enclosed the fields, which flowed from the valley floor to the foothills. Here the land had been cut into terraces, and the fields ascended for several hundred feet until the Himalayas became too steep to farm. The mountains were as lush as the fields, though a much darker green. Ian tried to compare the peaks to the skyline back home but realized that such a comparison was inherently faulty. The mountains were much, much bigger than anything Manhattan had to offer.

Ian lowered his gaze to Mattie. She was dressed in jeans and a purple T-shirt with a smiley face on it. Her hair was in long, fairly tight braids, a product of his determination. She appeared to move without pain, which delighted him. “You know, Roo,” he said, “I don’t fancy fighting with you.”

Mattie’s walking stick paused in midflight. “I know, Daddy.”

“And when we do fight, I’m not trying to pester you. I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”

“This trip is best for me.”

“Why? Why do you say that? What if one of us gets hurt or sick?”

“Like Mommy?”

“That’s right. Like Mommy.”

“But that won’t happen. You promised me that would never happen again.”

Ian glanced to their right, toward a waterfall that dropped from a crevice between distant rises. “Sorry, luv. You’re as right as rain. That won’t happen to either of us, just like I promised. But still, I reckon it doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

“I am careful.”

“I know.”

“So let’s not talk about it, okay?”

He sighed and moved ahead. Pointing to the waterfall, he said, “There’s a real beaut. Care to stop and sketch it?”

“No.”

They continued forward in silence. Ian glanced ahead, knowing that if the day remained clear, they would soon be rewarded with a view of Everest. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, adjusting his traveling hat to shield his eyes from the sun.

“What?”

“Actually, two surprises.”

She nudged him with her walking stick. “What, Daddy?”

“Just wait until we get to the top.”

The trail, bordered by stalks of wild marijuana, twisted to the left, approaching a vertical section of a mountain that had stairs etched into it. The stone steps, of which there were several hundred, led to a crevice in the mountain. At the base of the steps stood a Nepalese girl about Mattie’s age who wore a tattered blue dress. She carried an immense bundle of firewood on her back. A thick strip of canvas encircled the firewood and hung from her forehead. The girl had her hands on the canvas near her forehead, keeping it in place. She leaned against a large boulder near the bottom of the stairs, glancing up the mountain, and then at Ian and Mattie.

“Namaste,”
Ian said to the girl, placing his hands together and bowing slightly.

She smiled.
“Namaste.”

Mattie studied the girl, noticing how dirty and ragged her clothes were. Her dark hair was matted, long, and disheveled. “Hello,” Mattie said, embarrassed to be carrying almost nothing and to be dressed in such clean clothes.

“Hewwo,” the girl replied, still smiling, still holding the canvas strap in place against her sweating brow.

“Daddy,” Mattie asked, “could you carry that for her? I don’t think she’ll make it up all these steps.”

Ian was glad to hear the request. Though his own pack wasn’t light, he felt that he could also carry the firewood. “Reckon I can take that from you?” he asked the girl, gesturing toward the wood. “I’ll carry it to the top of these steps and then you can take over.”

The girl’s brow furrowed. “No understand. No speak English.”

“May I take your wood? I’ll put your strap around my forehead, like you’ve done. And I’ll carry it up these steps.”

Mattie saw that the girl was still confused. Stepping closer to the stranger, Mattie pretended to take the wood and put it on her father’s back, on top of his large backpack. “He will carry it up for you,” she said slowly.

The girl nodded, her eyes widening. Mattie saw that her knees trembled, probably from the weight of the firewood. Not wanting to waste any more time, Mattie helped the girl lift the strap over her head and set the wood on the ground. Mattie was surprised by the weight of the load, which she knew she could never carry. “Can you do this, Daddy?” she asked. “Maybe I could carry your backpack.”

“And if your leg was in proper shape, I’d let you try. But no worries, luv. Just help me get that strap up on my thick head.”

Ian dropped to his knees, and Mattie and the girl lifted the bundle of firewood, setting it atop his backpack. The girl took the strap and placed it over his forehead, so that his neck would carry the load, as hers had.

“Be careful, Daddy,” Mattie said as he stood up. She did her best to help him lift the firewood, as did the girl.

“Holy dooley, that’s heavy,” Ian said, straining beneath the weight. He held the canvas strip in place against his forehead, clenching his teeth from the pressure put on his neck. Leaning forward, he stepped on the first stair.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do this,” Mattie said, pushing up from behind to try and help him.

“Rubbish, Roo. Now let’s stop our yabbering and get this to the top.”

“But, Daddy. . .”

“Come on, now. I’ll race you.”

The stone steps were wide and high. Ian watched the ground carefully, aware of the two girls behind him. Despite what he’d said to Mattie, he was worried, as his load threatened to pull him backward. Continuing to clench his teeth, he moved up the steps, glad that they were dry. As he struggled, he thought about the girl, wondering why she wasn’t in school. Even though villagers were usually poor, their children attended school as long as crops didn’t need harvesting. Ian was surprised that the girl was carrying a load of firewood in the middle of the day. Perhaps her parents were sick and needed help.

“Twenty more steps, Daddy,” Mattie said from behind him.

“Is that all?” he answered, sweat emerging from his brow to fall to the stone stairs.

“Your knees are wobbling.”

“You must need glasses, luv. I’m as strong as a mallee bull.”

“A what?”

“A cow that lives in the Outback. Deep in the bush.”

“You don’t look strong.”

“Well, neither do mallee bulls. But you wouldn’t want to tangle with one.”

“Only ten more steps.”

“Thank goodness.”

“But you said you were as strong as a mallee bull.”

“That was ten steps ago, Roo. Times change.”

“Daddy!”

Ian finally made it to the top of the stairs. He took a few steps forward and dropped to his knees, lifting the strap from his head. The girls helped pull the bundle of firewood from his back and set it aside. He moved his head around in circles, relieved to have taken such weight off his neck. “How far do you have to carry that?” he asked the girl.

Smiling, she shrugged. “No understand.”

“Are you going to Nagarkot?”

“Nagarkot. Yes. I go Nagarkot.”

He knew from his guidebook that the village of Nagarkot was less than a mile away. “Well, then, we’ll see you in Nagarkot.”

“Wait, Daddy,” Mattie said, moving behind him and unzipping his backpack. She carefully sorted through its contents before removing a blue brush that had a picture of horses on the back. She looked at the brush, remembering buying it with her father before the trip. “Here,” she said, handing the brush to the girl. “I think you need this.”

The girl took the brush in her dirt-stained hands. “Me?” she asked, pointing to her chest.

“Yes. It’s for you. That way, your hair won’t get so tangled up.”

“Me?”

Mattie smiled, closing her hands when the girl tried to return the brush. “Good-bye. See you in Nagarkot.”

“Namaste,”
the girl replied, grinning. Bowing low, she stared at the horses on the back of the brush.

Mattie said good-bye again and followed her father up the trail, which went into a ravine in the mountain. They walked in silence, glancing behind on occasion to watch the valley below and to see if the girl had begun moving. After a few minutes she started up after them, proceeding slowly. The valley looked even more fertile from high above than it had from below.

“Why did you give her your brush, Roo?” Ian asked, his pack feeling lighter than ever. “I know you fancied it.”

“Did you see her hair? She needed it.”

“Well, you made her happy. Good onya for that.”

“You think?”

“Aye, First Mate. I do.”

The ravine they were following opened up. The mountain that had obscured their view for so long was now behind them, revealing the distant village of Nagarkot. The village wasn’t much more than a few hundred stone homes surrounded on all sides by terraced farms. Miles behind Nagarkot, a row of snow-covered Himalayas rose into the blue sky. One triangle-shaped mountain stood above the rest.

Ian removed his backpack, set it on the ground, and walked to a nearby boulder, leaning against it. “Do you see that mountain?” he asked, pointing to the tallest peak.

“The big one?”

“It’s Everest.”

“Really?”

“You made it, Roo. You made it to the top of a tall mountain and you’re looking at Everest.”

She smiled, glancing around. “Wow.”

“Care to see my second surprise?”

“What is it?”

He walked back to his pack, unzipped an internal compartment, and removed a roll of red fabric. He unwound the fabric, revealing two wooden poles connected in the middle by fishing line. Ian rotated them until they formed a cross. He then attached the fabric to the ends of each pole.

“A kite?” Mattie asked, smiling. “Where did you get it?”

“Kathmandu, luv. I had a lad find it for me when you were in bed counting sheep. Fancy having a go at it?”

“Maybe we can fly it as high as Everest.”

“Higher than Everest.” He patted her on the head, then tied a ball of string to the kite. The wind was strong, and Ian didn’t think that they’d have any problems getting the kite aloft. “You hold it, Roo. And when I tell you to, push it up into the air.”

“Push it hard?”

“Just let it soar. I reckon you won’t need to do much.”

“Okay.”

Ian unwound the string, moving away from Mattie across the wide, level ground. He walked into the wind, stopping about a hundred feet from her. The wind tugged at the kite in her hands. “Let her loose!” he said, pulling the string taut as she tossed the kite upward. He stepped back, lifting the string above his head. For an instant the kite faltered, and he feared it would crash. But then the wind thrust itself against the red fabric and the kite leapt up. Ian whooped, walking backward, continuing to unwind the string above his head.

Mattie started to run, eager to fly the kite. But suddenly she stopped. She saw her father standing in front of the village, in front of Everest. The blue sky. The red kite. The biggest mountain in the world. And her father. All of these things were bundled together before her and she knew that she had to draw them for her mother. Without a word, she ran back to her backpack and removed her sketch pad. Soon she was drawing, using colored pencils to re-create the scene. Her fingers moved faster than they ever had. She was afraid the wind might stop, that the kite might fall. But neither happened, and soon her hands were stained blue and red and brown. She smiled as she drew, smiled at what she saw on the paper. Because what she saw was beautiful, was what she’d climbed so high to see.