“Yeah, in every letter, too, all my big brother could talk about was you.” Angie reached out to touch Emily’s hand.
Birdie and Jacob erupted into laughter at this thought. “It was always ‘LT did this’, or ‘LT said that’,” he said.
“He surely did,” Birdie added. “You certainly made an impression on him.”
Perry could see the burden this vein of conversation posed for Emily, aware as he was how little she enjoyed being the object of anyone’s attention, much less this particular group’s. When her shoulders began to tremble, he piped up.
“C’mon, guys. Let’s talk about Tarot, instead of getting distracted by…” The question how to finish that sentence brought his words to a halt. What name should he refer to her by? Lieutenant Tenno seemed impossibly formal, but Emily or Michiko, or even Em, seemed like the wrong sort of familiarity, or even not familiar enough, given the circumstances.
“Chi-chan,” Durant offered, and Emily fixed her eyes upon him. “Let’s focus on Tarot.”
“Yeah,” Darius said. “Like how did he pick up the name Tarot?”
Durant’s explanation of this nickname had them all roaring. “He never could play cards,” Clayton said. Attention soon turned to Siegersen’s nickname, and Perry knew it would eventually come around to Emily’s nickname as well. Of course, the family was familiar enough with Army traditions, but that branch of the service doesn’t have quite the same flair for devising intricate monikers as the Marines, and this difference occupied the attention of Tarot’s brothers for a few moments. Meanwhile, Perry was relieved to see Angie pull Emily into some deep discussion in the corner of the patio, and finally the two of them wandered off for a walk in the wooded hills behind the backyard, and away from a potentially vexing new topic of general conversation.
“… and the lieutenant,” Jacob asked. “Did she have a special nickname among the men?”
Racket looked around the group nervously, until Durant nodded a subtle affirmation to him. “She had lots of nicknames,” he said. “Some folks wanted to call her Canine…”
“But never to her face,” Durant added.
“The rest of us called her Ninja… though she didn’t like it much.”
When Tarot’s brothers pressed him for an explanation, he pulled out his phone and tried to pull up a video he hoped would make everything clear. Perry shook his head, trying vainly to catch Racket’s eye and discourage this, since he feared the worst, namely that he might call up the video of the tournament at Quantico, when she’d killed Feng Long in what was only supposed to be a sparring match. He breathed a sigh of relief when the video turned out only to be of her sparring matches with Tsukino and Kano at the beginning of Operation Seabreeze, in which no one was killed, though a couple of egos were severely bruised.
“I can’t believe you jarheads,” Jacob said. “Imagine, sending a woman in to the ring against grown men, and her a tiny slip of a thing.”
Naturally, this sentiment induced Durant and Racket to recall other stories of Emily’s martial prowess – of a much earlier tournament at Newport News, and of various hand-to-hand lessons she offered on board the Bonhomme Richard, the LHD they all shipped out on the previous summer. When Durant began to describe some of their missions in the Celebes Sea, and the talk circled around toward the battle on Itbayat, Perry cleared his throat loudly, and managed to shift the discussion into a more cheerful direction.
“What was Tarot like as a boy?” he asked “Did he go in for football?”
“He was too gentle for football,” Birdie said.
“Too gentle?” Darius practically snorted beer out his nose at his mother’s remark. “That boy could lay a serious lick on a body, once he got himself motivated. Don’t you remember the games we played right here in this backyard?”
“Of course, the yard was bigger in those days, before the addition,” Birdie said. “Once Angie came along, doubling up on bedrooms just wouldn’t do.”
“If he got the ball and a head of steam, and you let him turn the corner on a sweep, it was like trying to tackle a locomotive.”
“He didn’t try to outrun you,” Grady said. “Or even put a move on you.”
“No, he surely did not. He’d just lower his head and aim right for you, and then either you got him down, or he’d carry the pile down the field.”
“So, why didn’t he play on the school team?” Durant glanced around the brothers for an explanation. “It sounds like he’d have been a force to be reckoned with.”
“Could be,” Jacob said. “But he had chores and homework to take care of first, and that didn’t leave him much time for school sports.”
Darius and Grady regaled the gathering with stories of baseball games and basketball games, and camping trips in the nearby hills, and Durant traded more tales of how Emily had earned everyone’s respect during Operation Seabreeze, with Siegersen nodding vigorously over his shoulder. Perry spotted Angie and Emily through the trees in the distance, walking back to the house, and Birdie called out to them to come help set up the feast on two picnic tables.
“… so she says to this kid who’s sneering at the prospect of taking a hand-to-hand lesson from her, ‘either take me down, or see if you can make it to the door,’ and the kid actually glances toward the door.”
“She’s coming, Sarge,” Perry whispered in his ear.
“Aw, c’mon, guys,” Clayton said. “She can’t be that good.”
“… and the kicker is, she does it all without injuring him in the slightest.” Durant continued talking, too enamored with his story to consider the prospect that she might overhear. “It was like the gentlest butt-kicking you ever saw.”
“Gentle is good,” Darius said. “… at least in training. But what good is that in actual combat?”
“You know, this might not be the best moment for this conversation,” Perry said, glancing across the backyard.
“For heaven’s sake,” Birdie said, laying a tray of paper plates and cups on one of the tables. “Does that girl have you cowed… are you that afraid of her?”
“It’s not fear, Mrs. Stallings. I just want to respect her feelings, and…”
“… and she doesn’t like talking about this sort of thing,” Siegersen added, finally finding his voice.
With Birdie’s help, Perry managed to steer the dinner conversation back to stories about Tarot, and there were still plenty of those to hear, like the time he insisted on driving the backhoe to dig the foundation for the addition to the house, and hit the water main.
“… so he’s down in this hole, must be four feet deep, up to his waist in mud, trying to fit a sleeve over the pipe before Pop gets home,” Grady said.
“Of course, it never occurred to him to turn off the water from the street, and he’s afraid to call for help,” Clayton said. “Because, you know, he thinks he’s operating in stealth mode… but the neighbors are already starting to gather to see what the commotion is…”
“That boy could sure yell,” Birdie said.
“… and he was yelling up a blue stream.”
“Do you remember the time he hiked up into the hills to cut us a Christmas tree?” Jacob asked. “He goes up in the dead of winter with nothing but an axe, and fells this enormous fir tree.”
“It must have been fifteen feet tall, and just about as wide.” Birdie held out her arms to suggest the dimensions.
“He was so pleased with himself… until he tried to fit it through the front door.”
“Oh, yeah,” Darius roared. “By the time he got done trimming it to get it inside, it was about six feet high, and straggly from all the man-handling.”
“He had that hang-dog look on his face for the rest of the day,” Jacob said.
“The next year’s tree, he got that one just right,” Angie piped up.
The brothers cleared the tables after dinner, and the women took control of the conversation.
“Did you find out what you wanted to know?” Birdie reached for her y
oungest child’s hand. Angie kept her eyes fixed on a bowl of potato salad that had yet to be removed.
“Speak, child,” Jacob intoned. “Now’s your moment, if there ever was one.”
“Is it the great dream again?” Darius appeared and reached across the table for the last few items, and winked at his sister before carrying his armload back to the kitchen.
“Don’t pay him no mind,” Birdie said.
Emily reached an arm across Angie’s shoulder and gave her a little squeeze, and fixed Durant with a glance. He seemed to get the message and stepped back toward the kitchen, presumably to occupy the brothers in the house.
“It’s just like a regular college, Mom… just a little harder to get in, and with lots of discipline, but lots of friends, too.” Once she’d found her voice, the words came tumbling out. “Most everyone there was like a straight-A student in high school, and on a varsity team… and the summers are spent on different tours.”
“And what happens after?” Jacob asked.
“It’s a five year commitment, but most people stay for longer, Dad, because they can’t imagine anything better.”
“What if you don’t get the posting you want at graduation?”
“I don’t know… maybe wait it out, or try to transfer, or make the best of it.”
“I still haven’t heard the real reason, child.” Jacob cupped Angie’s hand, at once a nudge and a reassurance, and his face beamed at her, so smooth and round despite the stubble of the afternoon. Did she feel it, even though she hadn’t lifted her eyes to meet his? He looked every bit the patriarch of this little clan, trying to coax his youngest child to face the meaning of her wishes.
“I want to do it for him, Dad.”
Jacob glanced at Emily, and Perry wondered what she’d say, or if she’d even say anything in this setting.
“That’s not going to be enough.” When Emily turned to look at him, Perry nodded. This was indeed what he’d say, too. “It won’t sustain you through the difficult times. You need to want this for yourself, too.”
Birdie slipped one hand under the mass of her daughter’s hair to rub her neck, and clutched Emily’s arm with the other. “There’s time, Angie. You don’t need to make this decision right now. Let your heart sort itself out over the next few months.”
“As for you, young lady…” Jacob had turned his attention to Emily, addressing her now as if she were a wayward daughter. “I hope Angie conveyed our sentiments to you.”
Emily nodded, her face betraying a faint orange glow, and glanced at Perry. She seemed to be blushing. Was that shame in her eyes? He didn’t expect to be able to untangle the complex of emotions on her face, but their intensity was unmistakable.
“Dwayne gave his life to keep you safe,” Jacob continued. “You mattered to him, and you honor his gift best in your happiest moments, not in endless grief and sorrow. Now you matter to us, child, and we cherish his memory better when we see you prosper.”
Angie and Birdie folded Emily in their arms before the moment could become overwhelming, and Jacob nodded at Perry.
The atmosphere in the car on the ride home felt lighter, as if a storm had lifted, and Perry thought he could see it in her eyes, every time he caught a glimpse in the rear view mirror. Jacob’s words had spoken to her in a way he knew his own had not, and the women had worked a different sort of magic on her. “Let it last,” he said to himself, in something like a prayer.
“Won’t she get in just because she’s a legacy?” Durant asked. He’d craned his neck around the headrest to see if Emily agreed.
“I don’t think getting in will be the problem,” she said.
“Yeah,” Perry said. “Making it through requires real discipline.”
“Is that what you guys were talking about with Jacob and Birdie?” Durant repositioned himself at a more oblique angle.
“Yeah, more or less.”
“More or less?” Durant readjusted himself in the front passenger seat and flashed her a meaningful glance. “So, you broke the news, then?”
Perry noticed in the mirror how she glowered at him, and saw how Durant flinched. “What news? C’mon guys, don’t hold out on me.”
Emily grumbled, and Durant shrugged in some sort of Marine apology – Perry was not as attuned as he might like to the secret semaphore of the corps – and finally she spilled the beans: “I’m shipping out in a few days, to Beijing, the Attaché service.”
“Shipping out?” Perry could hardly believe his ears. “How come this is the first I’m hearing about it?”
“Sorry, LT,” Durant said. “The right moment never came up.”
“What… you tell him, but not me?”
“I only found out on Monday, and I had to tell someone, you know… and I didn’t want to discuss it over a satphone.” Emily’s voice fluttered, no doubt at having been caught out, and Perry was surprised to see it so plainly in her face. She hadn’t lied to him, of course, but not sharing this news with him first of anyone in the world felt like a small betrayal. He’d just begun to rest easy in the new intimacy that had taken shape after their harrowing ordeal in the East China Sea, and now all those comforting passions seemed on the verge of collapsing in on themselves. Emily ventured a further explanation.
“Plus, I was hoping to pull a string… to get out of it, or something, you know.”
“Get out of it… what the hell for?” Perry caught the rising tone in his voice, and tried to shift into the safer mode of pragmatic advice. “Yeah, I suppose it’s gonna be a shit-storm. Michael’s really dropped you in it. Has the MARA contacted you yet? When the rest of the Marine Attaché unit gets wind of this…”
“There’s gonna be hard feelings… again,” she said.
Durant leaned in to offer his view. “At least, they can’t say you’re not qualified.”
4
Learning to Speak in Tones
“Mom,” Emily called out, thumping down the staircase leading into the public rooms of the house, and not quite certain which ‘mom’ she really had in mind – Yuki, the mother who’d given birth to her and then hidden the fact for almost eighteen years, or Andie, the mother in whose home she’d lived for almost as long. She found them both in the kitchen.
“What is it, Chi-chan?” Yuki called from the pantry.
Emily paused to consider whether it was worth complaining about how her “secret” name had spread further than she was exactly ready for. No, that would have to wait for a better moment.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“I don’t need this now. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for God-knows-how-long, and you two don’t tell me how upset she is.”
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t think it was that important,” Andie said, while Yuki nodded in support. “The old man gave her some advice, and she’s getting to be that age…”
“Gave her some advice? I have half a mind to drive up there right now and give him a piece of my mind.”
The two older women could barely conceal their amusement at this pronouncement. “I think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” Yuki said. “All Mr. Sung said was that she spoke Chinese like an American.”
“… and he’s probably right,” Andie said. “After all, she’s grown up here.”
“… which brings me to my next point: how many years has it been, a decade, and neither of you has taken the trouble to learn Mandarin? Could you really not know how important this would be to a lonely orphan girl?”
“Uh, well… we meant…” The hemming and hawing continued for a few seconds. Of course, she was right, and it was painful to be reminded of it. Finally, Andie managed a reply.
“It just always seemed too difficult. All those subtle pitch accents, and so many characters…”
“What’s your excuse, Mom? It’s not like the characters are so different from kanji. You guys owed it to her to make the effort.”
“Okay, enough, Chi-chan. You’re right, bu
t…”
“But nothing. Mr. Sung told her she speaks like an American, and now she thinks she’s not Chinese enough, like her uncle won’t approve of her… and he’s the last shred of real family she has.”
It required a few breaths to recover her calm, after indulging the pleasure of finding fault with her mother. It was always going to be a short-lived little bit of joy. When Michael poked his head through the kitchen door, she tried not to vent in his direction, as short as she had been with him earlier in the week. “It’s not my doing,” he’d assured her at the time, and she reined in her temper to the point of almost believing him.
“I have news,” he said now, before pushing his large frame all the way into the room.
“Has SECNAV relented?” Andie and Yuki were all expectation, having believed that a simple word in Tom O’Brien’s ear would solve Emily’s problem.
“No, and it turns out the word came down from a little further up the food chain.”
“From the Joint Chiefs, you mean, or SECDEF?” Emily turned over the possibilities as she contemplated the cast of Michael’s face. “It’s not like it would come from anyone at DIA without you getting wind of it, right?”
“It’s got nothing to do with the intelligence community, Emily. Nicholson at State told me it came through the East Asian desk.”
“Great. Some idiot at State wants to ruin my life.”
“If only it were that straightforward.” Michael ran his fingers through an unruly thatch of reddish-brown hair. “They’re just responding to a request that came from Ambassador Zhang.”
“The Chinese?”
“President Liang made a personal request. He wants to meet you, maybe pin some sort of medal on you, and the White House agreed to coordinate a special introduction at a state dinner in Beijing.”
“Fine… I suppose. But why can’t I just fly in for the occasion? Do I really need to be posted there, and for all I know it could be three years? Do you have any idea how much flak I’m gonna take from the rest of the Attaché staff on station there… not to mention that they’re screwing with my MOS, again.”
Girl Goes To Wudang (An Emily Kane Adventure Book 7) Page 4
