by Bella Knight
Mrs. Hua realized she'd dropped her jaw. "My daughter?" she choked out.
"Your daughter, with the beautiful, accomplished granddaughter, who did not marry a white man to anger you. She married him because she loves him."
"She could just as easily love a Chinese man." Mrs. Hua's mouth was a thin red line.
Mrs. Chang snorted. "And what would be the difference? She teaches Chinese language and culture, every day. She takes her daughter to violin lessons with a Chinese teacher. She had a Chinese wedding. My husband and I were there. We have bought some refurbished places from Bao's husband's company. There are ties there, to the Chinese community. What do you want? To go back to China? To go back to a tiny apartment that sleeps seven? To having your bathroom next to your bed? To work every day? My husband has taken me to trips to China. We can afford that. We have visited other countries, too. And here you moan, in your triplex your daughter gave to you."
"You call me ungrateful? I gave birth to her! I raised her! I sent her out to work, and I stayed home with my granddaughter! I should not have brought her here."
"Why?" asked Mrs. Chang. "Do you not have a better life? Better than any you could have dreamed of in China?"
"She refuses my words! She will not let me guide her!"
"She is a grown woman, married, with her own household. She is rich and accomplished. What guidance does she need?" asked Mrs. Chang, perplexed.
"She won't let me live with her," shouted Mrs. Hua. She knew she sounded like a crazed person, but she had to speak. "She threw me out. She said I am responsible, that I must call my own plumbers and carpenters --and all from the list of trusted people she gave me. She will not even make a phone call for me! Certainly, now that she lives with a white devil, she won't let me live there."
"She won't let you live with her," said Mrs. Chang, "Not because of the man she married, but because you treat her as if she were seven years old. She is a grown woman. Can you not see that? Can you not speak to her gently? A willow branch bends with the wind, and is not broken."
"She... she is wrong about me," said Mrs. Hua. "She said today that I am sick, that I need to see a Chinese doctor. I am not insane!" she cried out.
"My friend," said Mrs. Chang, "Your daughter is right. You act strangely. When in your daughter's house, you tried to tell Bao and Hu what to do, but you also tried to do the same thing with Grace and her mothers. Who are you to determine that you know how everyone around you should live? You are also screaming at me, you seem to have aged ten years in two weeks, and you are wearing a robe at only eight at night. Where is the kind, gentle woman who used to serve me the best rice?" Mrs Hua froze, and looked down at herself. "Sit down, relax," said Mrs. Chang. "We will talk to Mr. Leong in the morning. He will give you some teas and some acupuncture, and you will feel like a new woman."
Mr. Leong sent Mrs. Hua to a Chinese medical doctor, Mr. Lin. Mr. Lin diagnosed her with very low blood sugar and hypothyroidism. The medications, combined with Chinese herbs and many walks with her granddaughter, helped Mrs. Hua to recover. The anger toward her daughter dissipated, and she realized she had done irreparable harm.
When Bao came to pick up her daughter, Mrs. Hua sent Hu to throw bread at the ducks. "When your own daughter does not want to live with you... I blamed it on American influences, not my own behavior."
Bao patted her hand. "Hu saw all of those behaviors. It damaged her. That's why you couldn't, and can't, still live with us. Not now. Besides, you're getting a good income as a landlord, and I don't want to deal with the triplex."
They sat in the sun. After a time, Mrs. Hua said, "I was sick. I didn't know what I was saying."
"I know," said Bao. "That's not a real apology, but that's a start. Try actually saying the words 'I'm sorry,' and read a book or two about control. You already lost me, but you have a chance at keeping Hu in your life. Over time, if you learn to behave with respect toward me and my husband, we would be happy to bring you into our lives. But, I will not be spoken to as if I am nothing, and you shall not speak ill of my husband. You were the one that taught me to go out into the world, to do the best for us. I did that, as you did with the Chinese restaurant. Start finding out who I really am, who Hu is, without that ridiculous lens you use of Chinese --or not Chinese, as a dreaded, racist compass. Start with us being people, and work from there, and I'll do the same with you." She patted her mother's hand again.
"You will not forgive?" asked Mrs. Hua.
"I already have," said Bao. "But, that doesn't mean I accept bad behavior."
"You are a hard woman," said Mrs. Hua.
"I am your daughter, but so much more. I waited as long as I could before I moved you out. Please, please realize that I am not hard. I am protective, of me, and of my daughter. I love you, but you must act as if you love me. Find out who I am, and work from there."
"Am I such a bad person?" asked Mrs. Hua.
"The fact that you keep begging for an apology I have already given means you have not yet changed," said Bao. She stood. "Come on, Hu, my precious." Hu ran and plowed into her mother, making Bao laugh. "Let's go chase down some dinner things."
Hu ran to her grandmother, and hugged her too. "See you later," she said, then bowed prettily. She took her mother's hand, and they walked away.
Loss
The problem with their daughter, Diana, wasn't that she peed and pooped constantly. And it wasn't her alternately smooth and wrinkled features; she was cuteness itself, even if she was a little lopsided from coming out of the womb. No, she was actually a pig. A baby pig. But, not for truffles, but for his wife's breast milk.
Robin, Reece and Xenia all took turns feeding her throughout the day. Xenia was great at expressing milk; she did it while she read or watched TV. The problem was the fact they had only one human cow, and that was Xenia. Her breasts would get sore if Diana woke her up, so she would feed the baby even if she was too tired to stand. She'd just lay on the side of the bed and fall toward the bassinet. This disturbed Robin, not because he had to change sides of the bed to fit the bassinet. And also, not because of the “thunk” she made lunging toward the bassinet. That had been the noise that was made to catch herself, before she fell in a heap on the floor that usually woke him up. No, what bothered him most, was that his wife never slept. She got circles under her eyes, lanky hair, and a glassy stare. She would watch TV or read a magazine, and have no idea what she watched or read. Both Robin and Reece convinced her they would take care of everything, and high school student David Lazy Bear, called Bear, who wasn't actually lazy, came over to clean up everything for a few hours a day. But, Xenia's hindbrain would not, under any circumstances, register the concept of rolling back over and going to sleep if she actually heard her baby cry.
So, Robin and Reece engaged in the strange behavior of stealing the baby, or the entire bassinet, to let Xenia sleep. They snuck her away the minute Xenia's eyes closed. Bear was in on it. He'd give the signal that Xenia was asleep, and the baby would disappear for as long as they could disappear her. They took her to the kitchen, to watch TV, or to the laundry room to do the incessant loads of laundry. Robin wondered how the occasional load became a daily thing. He would do a load with his baby in a papoose pouch on his stomach.
He sang to tell her exactly what he was doing. "Putting the laundry in the washer, oh, oh, adding the soap, oh, oh."
It made Reece shriek with laughter inside her skull to see her buttoned-up boss sing to a baby about the chores. Reece sometimes went through the house with her hand over her mouth, shaking with laughter, when Xenia was asleep.
The whole Reece thing baffled Robin, too. All their parents were dead, so no help there. They had Bear. But, somehow, Reece was suddenly living at his house and taking care of his wife. Not that he minded. She still went to her shifts, EMT and sheriff's deputy. She came back tired, but would instantly talk about something so boring that Xenia would sleep, and she would steal the baby. It was probably a Valkyrie thing. That, he understood. Valkyr
ies took care of Valkyries. There was probably a side-eye or secret hand gesture that meant, "Come home with me and take care of me and my infant for a while." Not that he minded. Anything to make his zombie-wife sleep, was a good idea for now.
He did a save that night that had him patting himself on the back. They were both asleep in the bed, and Diana gave a little cough. Robin managed to move his cop bulk around the bed, snag the baby, and sneak off with her before the cough became a wail. He got her into the living room, and changed --she'd wet her entire outfit, somehow. He went into the kitchen, where he warmed up the bottle of breast milk. He made moo noises until he flung the microwave open just before it rang. He checked the temperature on his wrist, and she suckled down the milk like the baby pig she was. He left only the light on over the oven, snagged a kangaroo pouch, slid her in, and laid back in the recliner. He told a nonsense story about bears and fish, and a stream, and she ate and stared into his eyes.
Robin wondered how she'd taken his heart. He was pretty sure his heart was Xenia's, but he realized he must have two of them, a hidden one, that only came out for Diana. Diana had his second heart. He burped her, fed her some more, and burped her again. He put her in the kangaroo pouch, next to his heart, and put a hand in there --so she knew Daddy had her. He fell asleep with her in his arms.
Two hours later, like clockwork, he did it all again. He burped her twice. Reece came down, stole the baby and the kangaroo pouch, and sent him to bed. He did, and was excruciatingly careful not to wake up Xenia. He did anyway, when his alarm went off. He had taken to leaving his phone under his pillow on vibrate.
He hit the vibration alarm (twice) before stumbling toward the shower. "Honey?" asked Xenia. "I need Diana." Diana was asleep in the bassinet.
Then, Diana coughed delicately, then let out a wail. Xenia did the lurching thing, changed Diana, and attached her to her breast. Baby and mama sighed with relief.
"What... who changed her? She was wearing the yellow one last night. You did, she's snapped wrong."
"She peed on the whole thing, too," he said, and got the bathroom door closed before she could use her interrogation skills on him.
He got out, dried off, shaved, dressed, and went to the kitchen. He zapped a frozen breakfast burrito and blessed himself (and all of his ancestors) for buying an automatic coffee maker. He had two cups before his eyes opened. He poured himself a large go-cup, went back to the bedroom, kissed his wife and daughter, unlocked his sidearm from the safe, put it on, found his gun belt, realized he'd done things backward, then found his go-cup and headed out.
He got to work without wrapping the SUV around a tree. He slapped himself awake a couple times, made sure he was buttoned up right, and hadn't missed a spot when shaving. Then, he very literally, put on his Sheriff Bob Hunter hat, and went in to work.
During the first hour, he found out the night was quiet, except for an excitable, drunken jackpot winner in a small casino --who spent all of his winnings, then woke up with a pounding headache and thought he had been robbed. Casino security had hours of tapes of his burning through the money. Then, he went through his first mound of paperwork, found out who was wanted, and shared the information with the small nearby casinos, in case a bad person showed up there. It wasn't that common; most wanted felons, had figured out that casinos had security cameras. He waged war with his inboxes, both physical and electronic, fielded some calls, and went out for a look-see around town.
Sheriff Bob Hunter parked, ready to tiptoe into the house. He got away for lunch, and had his wife's favorite lunch of the week; the BLT on brown pecan bread, with a side Caesar salad. He had the basil tomato soup and tandoori chicken, pita pocket that Reece liked, and the same BLT for himself. He entered, and found his wife asleep, the baby in a kangaroo sling on her stomach. His wife was in shorts and a different shirt from that morning.
Reece was in light yoga pants and a Deputy “Do It Better” T-shirt. She took the bag from him as he carefully shut the door. Reece heated the soup in the microwave, careful to open it before it dinged. They ate together at the breakfast bar in absolute, blessed silence. Robin quietly opened the refrigerator, happy that he'd asked for the dressing to be on the side. Reece waved, slipped into the recliner, silently laid it back, put the jewel-toned red cover over her legs, and slept. Robin slipped out, grinning like a fool, and stepped out into the sunlight. He put on his “Sheriff Bob” face again, and walked to the car.
He turned the radio back on; he had it off, so the squawks wouldn't wake the baby. "S-34, back on from lunch. Anything I should know?"
"Yes S-34, please be advised that Deputy Tanner is on a call, a fender-bender just outside Tonopah."
"Good to know," said Bob, pulling out. He turned left, then right, without a backward glance. That would haunt him later.
He found a black-and-white border collie wandering by the side of the highway. He picked it up, gave it water, and aided it on a towel next to him. He drove it to Darla's Dogs. Darla would get it to the vet, and get it in shape. She routinely kept dogs out of the shelter. Ranchers always needed another dog, and border collies were good ranching dogs. He rode the streets on patrol, covering the area Deputy Tanner was supposed to take. Tanner called in to say the fender-bender was resolved, so Bob went to get some mozzarella sticks, a small salad, and a cherry-lime iced drink at Sonic. He ate quickly, then went back to the office.
He did piles of paperwork, talked to the mayor briefly about a slight rise to the budget --due to having to purchase new tires for Tanner's truck that he drove over some caltrops getting to some suspects. He also promised to find something to cut to make up for it later. But what, he didn't know. Maybe winterizing the trucks. He'd been moving money around in a shell game, trying to get everyone trained, but having the Valkyries nearby took care of some training needs. He just sent his people for sparring and paintball. They'd come back bruised with paint in odd places, but they'd pay a lot more attention when they came back. He pulled up the budget, and cut out a rather useless seminar --for himself. Seminars were great, but this one matched the cost of the tires, almost exactly. He texted the mayor to say he'd taken care of the problem.
He did more paperwork, then Tanner came in to chat. Deputy Keith Tanner was huge, with an even bigger heart, his black hair cut short, his eyes a dark blue. He could run, fight, and even kickbox with that size. He hoped Tanner would find a significant other that didn't want to change his size, or his personality.
"Heard you picked up a dog," Tanner said as he took off his hat and took a seat.
"Yep, just received a call from Darla. She's seven months old, sweet and smart. Worn pads and dehydration, wolfed down food, on an IV, has some cream on her pads, but she'll be fine."
"Signs put up?" asked Tanner.
"Online and offline, and the shelters have her info. Why?"
"I'd like to take her."
Tanner lived on a small ranch with his father, and his sister Crystal who worked on the meat and cheese counter at the supermarket, and three horses.
"We're thinking of getting alpaca to sell the fur or wool, or whatever. Hear they're nice but they spit. Dad says he doesn't want cattle or sheep, and they can bring in good money and are good creatures. The dog can keep everyone in line." He laughed, "Even Dad."
"Any other pets?" asked Bob.
"Nope," said Tanner. "That old tabby cat of my sister's up and died. Big marmalade, we’d named her Jam. Anyway, I'd like the dog."
"Sure," said Bob. "Head on by Darla's on the way home."
"And, I've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and I know it's a bad time for that, with Reece maybe being late --because of her driving a bus." Law enforcement tended to call ambulances "buses."
"That's fine," said Bob. "I'll go where you're supposed to be. No biggie."
"Good," said Tanner.
"Anything else? Any problems? Situations? Issues?" He drew out the last word.
Tanner laughed. "I'm good."
"See you tomorrow," said
Bob.
Bob finished off more paperwork and stood. "Got a wife and baby," he said under his breath, just to himself.
He shut off the computer, and took the case with his personal laptop and a few journals. His wife read them assiduously, and he had to be ready to discuss things with her, and he was working with his backlog. He figured when his wife came back from leave, she'd argue with him about them. He’d hated coming back from leave after only a few weeks, but such was life. He turned off the lights, locked the office, and went to the company truck.
He stopped off for potato and blue corn chowders, small salads, and pecan pie for his family, then took a swing over to grab some baby wipes and diapers. He was fast realizing there was no such thing as "too much." He then headed home, sucking on a soda to keep his eyes open.
He drove up, and saw the door slightly open. He left the things in the car, and called dispatch. "This is S-34. There's an intruder at my house, 3555 Sunflower Drive."
He dropped the mic, and ran toward the house. He used the tip of his gun to open the door. Two of the stools at the breakfast bar were smashed. No one was there, no baby in the crib. The ruby blanket had been slashed, which chilled him. He made his way upstairs, then back down. He went back out, and circled the house.
He went back in, and found Tanner in the house, still in uniform. "No one here. There was a struggle, and someone had a knife." He pointed to the two lamps he hadn't seen on his first walkthrough. "Someone ripped those out of the wall and used them as missiles. My wife and Deputy Reece are missing, and our baby Diana," he said. "We need to get the word out. My wife's car is still here. Call the FBI. This is a kidnapping."
He did a second walkthrough, in case someone had hidden the baby, using gloved fingers. Nothing. He pulled out his cell phone and texted Herja a 412 code, which meant kidnapping, and his address. Herja would find who did this, and between the two of them, they would pound the son-of-a-bitch into the ground and get his family back.
