Unlike their father, their mother, Lily, hated the sea and everything to do with it. She couldn’t swim and had no desire to learn. Born in Hong Kong, raised in Macau, she grew up with her feet planted firmly in the ground. Of Han Chinese descent, she had a quiet beauty, dark eyes filled with emotion, black silklike hair that cascaded down her back, an ever-present jade and ivory comb tucked on the right side of her head. She was a woman who spoke only of her life since meeting Howard, as if the past had never occurred—though sadly, it had.
She had run away from home at the age of seventeen. Her parents had died, gunned down on the streets of Macau. Her older brother begged her to stay with him, promising he would provide for her, watch out for her, make sure she got an education, but she couldn’t reconcile herself with his employment. He was rumored to be a strong arm in a local Triad. Her brother tried to convince her that he was merely embracing their heritage, following in the footsteps of their father, a man she had always thought of as a simple, peaceful merchant. But the newspapers, writing of his death, told her of a stranger, a violent man who controlled the streets, a man who was the antithesis of who she’d thought her father was. She boiled with anger for having been shielded from the truth, and was enraged that her mother had been swept into death at her husband’s side.
Ashamed at her naïveté, of what her father had wrought, of the blood that flowed in her veins, she packed up in the middle of the night and left, running as fast as she could, looking for a new life, a new world in Hong Kong. She changed her name, created a new past of being orphaned in the war. She worked as a waitress, a maid, anything she could find that would provide her with enough money to afford the single room she rented in the darkest district of the giant city. Her beauty finally helped secure her the position of hostess at the Hong Kong Hilton, where she was the face all would see upon arrival.
It was there that she met Admiral Howard Lucas, fifteen years her senior, an officer in the United States Navy. A man of goodness, of strong moral fiber, who loved his country, defended his people, who would give his life for those in his command. He was the man she had thought her father had been until that fateful day when she’d learned the hard truths. He was the light to her father’s darkness, the calm to her father’s storm. He was the man who would bring balance to her life.
Despite his age, he swept her off her feet with promises of a new world and taking her back to America. She was enamored of him, enthralled with his power and dignity, with his black Irish looks—deep-blue eyes, jet-black hair—his broad shoulders and oversized charisma. She quickly fell in love. With nothing for her in China anymore, she left with him, marrying him, ever so happy in his arms, comfort, and safety.
IT WAS ON a Friday evening—their eight-year-old twins asleep in their beds—that Howard had asked for her help, something that hadn’t been asked of her in all of her life, not by her father, her brother, not even by Howard up until now. He brought her into his study and closed the door, seemingly afraid he was being spied on. The rows of books and documents on the bookshelf were divided into sections, one for each location that Howard had traveled to on his sailing excursions, from the time when he was young upon his father’s boat through the war, to most recently on his own boat; each section had materials on the destination as well as the accompanying sea charts of its location. It was a trophy case of his travels.
From the lowermost shelf he pulled out a lockbox, inserted a key, and opened it upon his desk. From within he pulled a small black lacquered box about the size of a clay brick, one side engraved with a fearsome dragon, wisps of smoke pouring from his nostrils as it battled a tiger whose bared fangs were poised to strike, while the other sides were covered in mythical creatures. Lily examined it closely. There were no seams or hinges; there was a heft to it, giving the impression of its being solid. It appeared to be an ornamental talisman from a forgotten age kept in households to ward off spirits.
Lily placed it on the desk as Howard reached back into the box and withdrew a large velvet bag, the red material worn and tattered with age. He smiled at her as he opened it and pulled out a book, placing it before Lily as if he were giving her the gift of his soul.
It was written in Chinese, elegant and old. She looked upon it with excitement, for she instantly knew what it was: It had been spoken of when she was a child, as part of China’s great history, but the lines between reality and myth were always blurred in the minds of children. She did not ask Howard how he came to possess it, as she was overwhelmed with curiosity about what the book contained.
Over the coming year, when time would allow, they would open the box as if in ceremony, remove the velvet bag, and lay the book before them; they would set the wooden black talisman on the table for good luck, and become lost in history. They would sit together as Lily would painstakingly translate the ancient text, helping Howard to write it out, explaining in detail the meaning behind the words. When they finished for the evening, he would once again wrap up the book, place it along with the talisman back in the box, and put it on the shelf.
Fourteen months later, they were halfway through, the interruptions of his work and travels slowing their progress. It was Lily’s favorite time with Howard; she was helping him, she had purpose, and they were together. It was in those moments she felt most complete, and she yearned for them, wishing it could be every night. But suddenly it all changed.
She was in the midst of translating a section, Howard jotting down notes beside the literal translation, when she suddenly stopped and slammed the book closed. Howard was startled by the abruptness of her action and as he looked at her he could see the fear in her eyes. Without a word, she put the book back in the bag, picked up the black talisman, placed them in the box, and closed it. Howard gently asked her what was wrong, but she just shook her head and went to bed.
A week later, Howard asked her if they could resume the project and Lily simply said no. He implored her to explain why, but she merely said she could never read that book again.
As time rolled on, Howard would ask her about it again, and she simply wouldn’t respond. He explained that he needed to know what was in the book, but she refused to speak of it anymore.
A month later, when the boys were asleep in their room, he struck her, hard across the mouth, knocking her to the floor. It was after a long dinner with officers and wives from the base; she had prepared a traditional Chinese meal in their San Diego home while her husband had provided traditional American whiskey. Everyone had left with smiles and laughter, she was cleaning the kitchen, and turned to Howard. She merely asked if she could go to school. He had screamed at her. How dare she ask such a thing of him when she denied him help, when she wouldn’t tell him what the book said?
She had never seen that side of him. It was as if a monster had crawled out of the depths of his soul and possessed him. His drunkenness brought out a dark side, one that was violent and out of control, one that he had hidden from her and the Navy much in the way that she had hidden from him her past as well as the things within the Chinese text of the book that scared her.
But he was instantly remorseful, shamed by what he had done; he begged her for forgiveness, something that had never been asked of her before. And she saw this great warrior reduced to just a man who feared losing his wife for his actions.
He didn’t raise a hand to her again… for another month. This time it was worse: He blackened her eye, left heavy bruises on her cheek. She didn’t leave the house for a week. She had nowhere to go, no one to call or run to. She was a foreigner in 1950s America, married to a war hero. No one would believe, let alone listen to, the accusations of a Chinese woman.
And again, he begged for forgiveness, swearing he would never drink again. He loved her and couldn’t live without her. He bought her things: a new necklace, a dress. He would pay for her schooling if she still wanted it.
One Sunday afternoon, the boys, being boys, got into a fistfight over who could run the fastest. Lily scolded them as she
had done in the past for so many of their fights, knowing that within minutes the boys would be best friends again and the fight would be nothing but a distant memory. It was what boys did. But Howard had seen the incident from the window and came charging out. He had never seen them strike each other.
Though the matter was over, though Lily had already addressed it, he grabbed Jacob by the arm, shaking him, yelling at him while not once turning his anger on Isaac. Lily could see the fear in her son as he trembled in his father’s grasp. And while the moment passed, she began to understand to whom Howard would direct his anger if she ever left.
One month later, he broke her jaw.
By now the boys were more than nine years old. And she began to fear that he would soon turn his drunken rage on them. She still feared the police, and finally succumbed to the idea that there was only one place to run to.
She loved Howard more than life, but feared him even more. It was the hardest decision of her life.
IN THE MIDDLE of the night, Jacob was awoken from his sleep by his mother. Fearing trouble, Jacob began to tremble, but Lily took his hand and pulled him from the bedroom. She told him everything was all right, they just needed to go out for a bit. But the next thing Jacob knew he was on a plane. His mother kept insisting it would all be all right, that they just needed to go away for a bit. They landed at the crack of dawn in a far-off city, only to be put in a car, then on a boat, to finally arrive in a run-down city. They had only the clothes on their backs and the metal lockbox that his mother carried in a shopping bag that she never put down for the duration of the eighteen-hour trip.
They arrived at the home of his mother’s brother, a tall man with long, dark hair and a frightful scar on the side of his neck. He wore a black fedora and his fingers were adorned in chunky gold rings. Jacob had never seen anyone like him except in some horror movie. His name was Kwon, and though he scared him, Kwon spoke to him in English, spoke to him like a man, like he belonged in his world.
Jacob asked his mother when they would be going home and he would see Isaac and his dad. She told him soon, but soon never came. The days dragged on into weeks. Jacob missed his brother, his country, as he wondered about the strange world he was now in. He didn’t understand the language, the people, or the customs, though his mother seemed perfectly at home.
She had assimilated back into Chinese society, shunning America and everything to do with his father. She enrolled Jacob in school, spoke only Chinese in their home, and insisted that Jacob do the same.
HOWARD AWOKE THE morning after Lily snuck away to find a small box and a note beside the bed.
Howard,
I can no longer live in fear. I’m taking Jacob but I’m leaving you Isaac. We both know he is your favorite. Though I fear for him, I know you will not touch him for you would not hurt your favorite son. And if you do, I will come back for him, taking him away, as I took away Jacob, to a place you will never find any of us.
Howard opened the box and looked at the jade and ivory item within.
Please give Isaac my comb, it is all I have to leave him. It was my mother’s, all I had of her when she left me for heaven. Tell him I love him, that he will always be in my heart, and that he makes me proud.
I am truly sorry about the book, about not completing the translation. I know it is the root of your anger with me, the frustration that culminates in your drinking, but what I read within those pages, what that talisman contains, should be forgotten to history.
Lily
Howard returned to Hong Kong, searching high and low. He went back to the Hilton, hired a detective, but no one had ever heard of Lily. He implored his military contacts to reach out, but all inquiries came back empty. There was no doubt she had returned to her old existence.
Howard thought that when they had met, he was saving Lily, providing her with a life in America, a world so much better than China, so much more sophisticated, so much more intelligent than the old world she had come from. She had never voiced her concern, never spoken of her displeasure with her new life, and most important, had never spoken of her past. It was as if she had rejected everything to do with her upbringing. And having kept her past a secret from him, she’d found the perfect place to hide.
Howard returned to the United States a broken and hollow man. He poured all of his efforts into Isaac, ensuring he attended the finest schools and participated in sports, taking him to West Point the June after high school graduation. They were as close as any father and son could be.
And though both of them continued to wonder where Jacob and Lily might be, neither of them spoke of it. It was as if half of their family no longer existed, as if they had fallen off the face of the earth.
CHAPTER 21
BEIJING
“I’ll get the access card from her,” Annie told KC as they walked back into the hotel.
“Not a chance.” KC stopped in her tracks. She knew Annie wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her, or even silence her. “Let me get it.”
“How do I know you’re not going to try something foolish?”
“Seriously? Where the hell am I going to go?” KC said. “Do you think I’d play with Michael’s life like that?”
THE HOTEL RESTAURANT was half-empty. It was just after one in the afternoon. KC and Jenna were halfway through lunch; though it was only midday, KC felt like it was midnight. She had had a headache all day and the pain seemed to be creeping into her joints. She had taken two Tylenols when she awoke that morning and two more fifteen minutes earlier, but they weren’t helping… and probably wouldn’t until she knew Michael was safe.
Jenna had combed her hair and put on a J.Crew dress, trying hard to keep up with KC’s appearance. They talked of life, China, weather, the Imperial Palaces, and made general small talk until dessert arrived.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Jenna said.
“How do you know those tunnels beneath the Forbidden City exist?”
“Because…” A hint of mischief filled Jenna’s eyes.
“You went down there,” KC said with a smile, “didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Jenna nodded, and finally gave a guilty smile. “I heard about them. No one would confirm it. I’m a curious woman, I want answers, I want to unlock history, so that’s what I did; I’ve written a thesis on it, but I have to be careful how I put it out there. Most of the museum staff is male, and they are very dismissive of women, particularly American women.”
“What were the tunnels like?”
“Not great. They’re flooded, but once you get past the water they join up with the Beijing tunnels.” Jenna paused. “Intriguing, right?”
KC smiled as their coffee arrived, remaining silent, as if she was building up to something.
“Did you ever make a mistake?” KC asked.
“Every day,” Jenna said with a smile.
“I mean the type that blows up your life and throws everything good about it out the window.”
“I got married when I was eighteen,” Jenna said. “High school love, you know, the one that no one can talk you out of. Tim and I were freshmen at Berkeley, I was a dual major, Chinese and art history. Tim was philosophy and world politics. We were both filled with anger and angst; we had all the answers. March on Washington, the UN—decry capitalism, the military, hell, half the time we didn’t even know what we were marching for, but we both had this rage in us and wanted to change the world, make it better. One night, I’m studying and I have this epiphany: Our parents paid for our college and it occurred to me I was protesting the system that they succeeded in, that gave them the money to send me to school. I was railing against the means that gave me the power to protest. Confusing, right?”
KC nodded and smiled. “On so many levels.”
“Well, Tim didn’t see my point. I told him I was thinking about getting focused, spending a semester here in Beijing to get closer to what I loved. He couldn’t understand; he said I was his wife, how could I do tha
t to him, leave him? I told him I wasn’t leaving him, that I loved him, that it was just for a semester. We had a terrible fight over it, but I knew somehow we’d figure it out.
“He was killed two days later in a car accident; he was just short of DWI. I couldn’t help thinking he got drunk trying to come to terms with my leaving for six months.”
KC stared at her.
“So, yeah. I think I blew up my life.”
Seeing the pain in Jenna’s eyes, KC let the moment hang.
“Would you change what you did?” KC whispered. “What you said?”
“To get Tim back, I would do anything.” There were tears in Jenna’s eyes. “I love what I do, but not a day goes by without my regretting that I’m here alone.”
“I’m sorry,” KC said, then paused. “There’s a man I love, his name is Michael.”
Jenna smiled. “Are you married?”
KC shook her head and held up her naked ring finger.
“You don’t need a ring around your finger to be married.” Jenna smiled. “Our hearts tell us we are committed to each other, not bands of gold. Too often we define our lives by ceremonies and deny the reality of the situation.”
KC nodded, knowing Jenna’s words were true.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds, if I said—”
KC stopped her. “No, it’s not you.”
Jenna tilted her head in sympathy, urging her to continue.
“The woman I’m with—”
“Annie?”
“The people she works for—”
“I thought she works for the U.S. military.”
“She does. A rogue section, I believe. They have Michael.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If I don’t do what she wants, they’ll kill him, and she will kill me.”
The Thieves of Legend Page 17
