I blink hard. When I open my eyes, more shadowy figures appear. My heart lurches. These men must be coming in through the door.
In the dark, I tiptoe barefooted across the living room to wake my parents. I knock softly and listen. Papa snores. With my hand on the doorknob I push. They have bolted their door. I creep to their inside window around the corner, and as loudly as I can whisper, I call out to Papa.
After a few attempts, Papa stops snoring. “Uh . . . uh . . . who’s there?”
“It’s Jie-Lan. I think there are robbers in the tannery.”
The bed creaks. There’s a rustle, and then metal clicks as Papa unbolts the lock. I hear Mama say something. Papa bursts through the door with an iron rod as long as a walking stick and as thick as my wrist.
“Call the neighbours on the phone. You stay here with your mama. Lock the outside door as soon as I leave.”
My heart thumps wildly. I have heard about robberies in other tanneries. Mostly these were petty thieves who stole whatever they could lay their hands on. Occasionally, armed robbers threatened the families, roughed them up, before taking off with cash. I pick up the telephone. Still dead.
Mama is waking up Shane and Robert. I dash towards Ah-Poh’s room just as the boys rush out, armed with a chain and a metal bar each. Mama joins me in Ah-Poh’s room, and together we stand at the window that faces the front and yell in Hindi, “Chor, chor!” and then repeat, “Thief, thief!” in Hakka as well.
In between the shouting, Ah-Poh mutters, “O nee tho foot,” her version of a Buddhist chant that she habitually uses when she’s frightened. Her eyes shut tight, she rocks back and forth on her bed, her lips open and close, muttering those same words. Mama and I never stop yelling for help.
The Wong tannery’s door opens. Someone steps out. The overhead light illuminates his face as he looks in our direction. The oldest of the Wongs’ sons, a strapping thirty-something father of four, calls to us, “Chin-Shen Ta Sao, is that you?” He addresses Mama by her Hakka title.
Mama shouts, “Yes, please call for help. We’re being robbed. There are many of them inside.”
I watch him cup his palms together over his mouth as he yells, “Thief, chor.” He runs to the Changs’ tannery nearby, and bangs the brass knockers. He hollers at every window that I can see. Within minutes, ten to fifteen men, all armed with crude weapons, throng the front of our tannery. Loud voices mingle with pounding on our heavy wooden door. After a while, the banging stops, and the men disappear inside. I wonder who unbarred the bolt to let them in.
More and more men run into our tannery. Some women hover outside, watching. I hear shouting. A popping sound goes off. A gunshot! And then another. Ah-Poh’s lips move faster and faster. I glance at Mama. The whites in her eyes gleam. I reach for her hand. She squeezes mine.
I don’t know how long the commotion lasts. Urgent and loud knocking comes at our entrance and the three of us look at each other in fear. I take a deep breath and start to walk.
Mama jumps into action too. “Wait for me.”
The rapping increases in urgency. I run to the door and peek through the peephole, but I don’t see anyone. I ease the door ajar and stick my head out. Whoever was there has vanished. Across the landing at least ten yards away, there’s scuffling at the stairs that go up to the roof. As I’m about to step out, Mama pulls me back. “Don’t go. Let the men handle this.”
As Mama ushers me back to Ah-Poh’s room, another knock makes us jump. I rush to the peephole. This time I see Shane. When I manage to open the door, Shane shuffles inside, his shirt bloody; a big gash runs across his upper arm. “They’re gone. The neighbours got here in time. Those goondas didn’t get what they came for. Have you seen Papa?”
I shake my head. Mama tears up an old T-shirt, and holding up Shane’s arm she starts to bandage his wound.
“I’ll go look for Papa,” I say, and before either one can reply, I run outside.
For a brief moment, I wonder if I should wait for Shane to go with me to the roof. I need to check out the scuffling I heard earlier. Taking a deep breath, I creep up the stairs in the dark. When I reach the landing at the top, I hear voices.
The door is open. This part of the roof is poured concrete. I move closer and peek out. My eyes adjusting to the dark, I see a man on my left, standing on the portion of the roof that is made of asbestos and hangs out. Lying at his feet is a prone figure, groaning. I stifle a gasp when I recognize Papa. The man who’s standing has a gun.
The asbestos roof covers half the tannery, sloping down toward the back where it is low enough to jump to the ground safely. Sometimes wet hides are spread out here to dry during the early tanning stage, but I doubt any would be left out overnight. Papa lies close to the edge. If he rolls over he will fall to the hard concrete below—almost the exact spot where Lee-Lan died.
The man says something as he brandishes his gun. His voice sounds familiar. I catch some Hindi words.
Then Papa says, “Sab jhuth hai,” He is denying something.
This elicits a loud response. “Tumhare vajah se mera bhaiya mar chukah.” Why does he say that his brother died because of Papa?
“He should never have messed with my daughter!”
Papa couldn’t be referring to me—I don’t know this man. Is Papa talking about Lee-Lan?
The man shouts, “You killed your daughter and then blamed my brother. He died in jail, so you killed him too.”
I struggle to breathe normally.
Papa groans. “It was an accident. She shouldn’t have been up here in her condition. If your brother hadn’t asked her to meet him here, she would still be alive today.”
The words ring in my ears. Did Papa just admit that he accidentally killed Lee-Lan? What does he mean about her condition?
The image of Lee-Lan lying on the ground, underneath the asbestos overhang, flashes through my mind. How can I ever forget that moment?
Her boyfriend, Rajesh, was pumping her chest frantically when I arrived. He turned his face towards me when he heard me scream. He babbled something, but when I continued to scream, he hoisted himself up to the asbestos roof, ran down the slope, and jumped to the ground at the edge where he disappeared. I never saw him again.
When Papa and Mama arrived I was wailing and sobbing as I shook Lee-Lan, pleading with her to open her eyes. Papa shoved me to the side and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Something’s happened to Lee-Lan.” The words tumbled out of me.
“Was anyone here? What did you see? Do you know how she fell?” Papa put his fingers on Lee-Lan’s neck feeling for her pulse while Mama listened for a heartbeat with her ear to Lee-Lan’s chest.
“Her boyfriend ran away just as I came up.” Too late I realized I’d let slip about Lee-Lan’s boyfriend, but there was no point hiding that now.
“What was that wicked boy doing here? He’s killed Lee-Lan.” Papa’s eyes protruded as he glared at me. I cringed and looked away.
“I . . . Lee-Lan wanted to meet him up here . . . I came to stop her. That’s when I found them.”
Just then Mama let out a blood-curdling cry. She had poked and thumped Lee-Lan, willing her to breathe—all for naught.
Now I strain to hear the exchange between Papa and the man, whose voice I now recognize as belonging to our new driver, Mohan. Recalling that terrible event, I suddenly realize that Papa had asked me how Lee-Lan fell when he couldn’t have known that she had. I was too distraught at the time to notice what he said.
The revelation that Papa was responsible—even if accidentally—for Lee-Lan’s death fills me with dread, makes me shudder and tremble. All these years I have carried the guilt for my part in not looking out for my little sister. I was her jie-jie, but I had failed her. Now Papa’s admission rocks my beliefs.
Mohan bends closer to Papa with his gun po
inting down. “Rajesh told me that you pushed your daughter because you were furious. The two were sitting right here when you killed her. Then you framed my brother for what you did.”
“I told you it was an accident. If your brother had minded his own business, she wouldn’t have fallen and died,” Papa says feebly.
“Why didn’t you tell the police that it was you instead of blaming my brother? Now he’s dead, and you’re going to pay.”
“Please . . . I’ll give you money. How much do you want?”
The gun almost touches Papa’s chest. “I don’t want your stinking money. I want you to suffer the way my brother suffered.”
Papa whimpers. I hear the pain in his voice. My brain struggles to accept what I’ve just heard. I had been convinced that Rajesh killed Lee-Lan. Papa had accused me of being my sister’s accomplice in encouraging her relationship with Rajesh.
Mohan cocks his gun and points at Papa’s head. I take a deep breath and step outside. I have no idea what I will do, but I have to do something.
“Bhaiya,” I try to control the tremor in my voice, “Please don’t kill my papa. I beg of you.”
Both men turn towards me.
“Jie-Lan, why are you here?” Papa’s voice is tinged with fear and relief.
I ignore him and continue to approach slowly. “Bhaiya,” I say again, “If you kill my papa, you won’t bring Rajesh back.”
“You stupid bitch, what do you know about Rajesh?”
“I know he was a good boy. He was gentle and kind and Lee-Lan loved him very much.”
“Then why didn’t you tell the police he didn’t kill your sister?”
“I didn’t know whether he did or didn’t. He ran away without explaining his actions.”
I ease forward one step at a time, my knees tremble, but I grit my teeth to stop my legs from buckling.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot him!” Mohan screams as he waves the gun at Papa.
“Listen to him,” Papa says.
I stand still. “Please don’t do this.” I don’t recognize my own voice.
“Why should I listen to you?”
“Then shoot me and spare my papa.” I don’t know why I’ve said that. He’s my father and I love him, despite everything he’s done.
Without warning, Mohan fires a shot in my direction, whirls around, and dashes away the same way his brother did several years ago. The night swallows him and I don’t see him any more.
I taste something bitter in my mouth. Nausea sweeps over me. I remain upright, but I expect I will collapse any moment now. I didn’t think he would really shoot.
Papa whispers in anguish, “Oh, Jie-Lan. What have you done? What have you done? You silly, silly, girl.” He props his body on one elbow, turning towards me. Then he drops down with a thud. He sighs.
Gingerly, I put one foot forward, then the other and keep moving. When I reach Papa, I grasp his hand. My fingers touch something sticky and wet. He’s bleeding.
I whisper, “Papa, please hang on while I get help.”
Papa stirs. “Uh, uh . . . are you alive? Are we both dead?”
“Yes, we’re both alive. I need to leave you here while I get help.”
His hand reaches for me. “I never meant for Lee-Lan to die.”
I strain my ears to hear him. I pat him gently. “Shh . . . ”
The pressure from his hand increases. “Don’t go yet.”
I stay still.
“I followed Lee-Lan up here and I heard her tell that boy she was going to have a baby. I was so angry I came out and yelled at them. Then I shook her hard. The boy tried to push me away, and that’s when Lee-Lan fell.”
A surging shock overwhelms over me as I try to absorb this. Lee-Lan was pregnant. Why didn’t she tell me? She told me everything. She must have been afraid that I would reveal her secret to Mama. And what could I have done had I known? Papa would never have allowed her to marry Rajesh, and she couldn’t hide her pregnancy. I can’t bear to think what she must have gone through. At sixteen, her world had ended even before she died.
It was a freak accident. One doesn’t usually die falling down five feet, and yet Lee-Lan did.
I glance at Papa’s face. He closes his eyes. “I’ll be back soon,” I whisper in his ear and run as fast as I can.
·23·
My eyelids flutter. I can make out the shapes of two women, they
are sitting on either side of my bed, each with an arm wrapped around a raised knee. One says, “Aiya, my poor heart. I don’t know how much more it can take. When the police found the dead body in the pond, I thought I would have a heart attack.”
“Tch, tch, this place is so unsafe now. It’s a good thing that Jie-Lan has emigrated to Canada. Maybe she can sponsor us and we can all live there.”
I recognize the voices, then discern the figures. Ah-Poh puts her hand on my brow. “She still feels warm, but not as bad as yesterday.”
Lee Ah-Poh, the other voice, takes my hand, massaging it gently. “What a terrible homecoming for her. These thugs are becoming bolder every time they come to rob us. Did you hear the men talking? We have to protect ourselves, because the police don’t do anything for us.”
Ah-Poh sniffs. “Aiya, the police are useless. When they found Darwan’s body, instead of going after those bad men, they questioned us—as if we had anything to do with his death.”
My body tenses. Last night’s events flash in my brain. I struggle to sit up.
Lee Ah-Poh looks in my direction. “Jie-Lan, you’re awake.”
Ah-Poh pushes me down. “You lie back. How do you feel? Do you want to have some chicken broth?”
I drop my head back on the pillow. “I heard you say that Darwan is dead. What happened?”
“The robbers killed him and threw him in the water,” Ah-Poh says. “The police caught one of them and brought him here this morning. He admitted that they paid Darwan to open the door for them.”
“When did all this happen? What time is it?”
“They discovered Darwan yesterday afternoon. It’s now three-thirty.”
“What day is it today?”
“It’s Friday, my birthday . . . not that anyone remembers now,” Ah-Poh says with a grievous tone.
“Friday? I slept all day yesterday?” How was that possible? I jerk up into a sitting position. “Daniel. He’s arriving today.”
Ah-Poh pushes me down again. “Don’t worry about Daniel. Robert already left for the airport to meet him.”
“What about Papa? Is he home?”
Ah-Poh takes off her glasses and wipes her eyes with the bottom of her shirt. “Your papa is still in the hospital. The doctor says he’ll recover. He lost a lot of blood from his wounds. He owes his life to you. If you hadn’t found him, he would have died.”
Lee Ah-Poh’s mouth droops on her normally sunny face. “When Chin-Shen recovers, you must tell him to stop showing off his money. Look at these rooms up here. People have this notion that he’s very rich because he built this flat. They probably think he’s got lots of money hidden here.”
“You know Chin-Shen. He may be my son, but he never listens to me.”
I touch Ah-Poh’s arm. “I’m so sorry your birthday banquet was cancelled.”
“That’s okay. Your mama spoke to the caterer already. We’ll have the banquet before you leave.” Ah-Poh’s face beams now that she’s reminded once again of the perks of having a wealthy son.
Lee Ah-Poh gets up. “I have to go home to make dinner. That daughter-in-law of mine is still in Kanpur visiting her parents.”
I grab her hand. “Please stay and meet Daniel.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Hee, hee, I want to see this fankwei of yours.” Turning to Ah-Poh, she asks, “Does Chin-Shen know that Jie-Lan’s fi
ancé is coming to stay here?”
Ah-Poh shrugs. “I was there when Tina told him this morning. He only grunted . . . not that it means anything. He did ask to see Jie-Lan.”
Lee Ah-Poh pats my hand. “Everything will be fine. We will go outside now and let you rest.”
When I wake up again, a silhouette sits next to me in the fading light. My pulse quickens as I recognize the feel of his hands holding mine. He bends down and kisses my forehead.
“Daniel.” The tears gush down my face.
He caresses my cheeks. “Are those tears of joy at seeing me?”
“Oh, Daniel, I missed you so, so much.” I want to freeze the moment, after everything that has happened.
“Hush, I’m here now.”
I give a sob and cling to him. “I want to go home.”
The door opens and Mama turns on the light. Gently, Daniel releases me, but continues to clasp my hand. Shane, Robert, and the two ah-pohs troop in behind her. While Ah-Poh and Lee Ah-Poh grin sheepishly as they look on, Mama smiles and says in English, “So we meet the man who’s stolen my daughter’s heart.”
“And a fine man he is too,” Shane lowers himself at the foot of the bed and swings around cross-legged to face Daniel and me.
“Yes, I agree,” Robert says.
My heart flutters as I watch Daniel rub the stubble on the sides of his face and the chin. “I’m pleased to meet all of you too. Jillian has spoken so much about you all.”
Ah-Poh sidles towards Daniel. She clutches his arm and says in Hakka, “You take good care of my granddaughter, okay?”
He looks at me quizically while keeping a smile on his face. Shane laughs. “Daniel, she’ll break your legs if you don’t marry Jillian.”
I squeeze Daniel’s arm. “That’s not what Ah-Poh said. Shane’s only joking.” I translate for him.
Lee Ah-Poh mutters, “We need an interpreter to talk to our grandson-in-law.” She looks at Daniel, nodding and smiling, and then says to my other ah-poh, “Come, let us leave the young people to speak their fanfua. We don’t understand the language.”
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