“You’re leaving, now!”
Andra jumped with a small scream that she stopped with a hand over her mouth as Le seemed to appear out of nowhere.
At the same time Max was at her side with a light but firm hand on her waist. Despite being bracketed by the two of them, Andra had never felt so frightened in her life.
“What’s going on?” she asked even as she thought the question ridiculous. Run, her mind said, but she didn’t know if that was possible. Her knees began to shake.
“Let’s go, Andra,” Max said. “There’s no time for questions. Let’s get out of here.”
“You’re right,” Le agreed. “Bao’s found you. My men are taking care of it. But we’re taking no chances. Get moving!”
Around them the restaurant had exploded into chaos. Diners toppled chairs as they stood, some hesitating in confused inertia as they hovered half standing, half sitting, determining whether to freeze or to run.
But as the doors burst open and a man holding a gun erupted into the main dining area and another man dove from the kitchen and tackled the armed man from behind, pandemonium broke out.
Andra was half dragged by Max. She glanced behind her to see that most of what was going on was blocked by Le.
“Newbie. Hasn’t got the art of a clean job mastered.” Le brushed down his impeccably creased trousers as they emerged onto the street. Before either of them could respond to the rather offhanded statement he began to walk at a fast clip to where the now familiar black stretch Cadillac waited just down the street. “Hurry,” he said and yet his actions were measured, almost languid, and belied his words.
“Where are we going?” Max demanded.
“In,” Le commanded shortly, holding the door open himself this time.
And considering what they had just witnessed in the restaurant, Max and Andra only had to look at each other briefly to realize that for now, Le was their only option.
“We could have been killed!” Andra added.
Le pushed a button as the car merged easily onto the crowded street. A glass partition slid silently between the driver and his passengers.
“Bao. He slipped past my security. Age may have given him more cleverness than I have ever given him credit for.”
“What now, Le? What do we do about Bao? As you know, we’re meeting the woman who might well be your daughter tomorrow.”
“Bao will die before morning. And if for some reason that doesn’t happen, I will protect her with my life. Have no fear of tomorrow.”
Somehow it seemed that Le emphasized the word die, or maybe it was only in her overhyped imagination. Andra gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Max took her free hand, holding it in a tight, firm grip.
“I will be in touch with you later.” He slapped his hand against the plush leather. “And to the woman you claim is Fu’s heir, you will say nothing. You will ensure her validity and keep your silence. You will swear that on your life.”
“You ask too much, Le.” Max leaned forward. “I will not have you threatening our lives.” He moved closer to Andra. “It seems to me that what we are doing is mostly for altruistic reasons. And, for the record . . .” He glanced at Andra, who nodded slowly. “I think I can speak for both of us in saying that we have no intention of revealing anything to your daughter. That we will leave up to you or to whatever, if anything, Fu might have left her as far as a message.”
“Silence!” The word snapped out and demanded attention. “Altruistic?” His eyes narrowed. “This journey is very much about you and professional gain. Fu expanded the language of Nushu, did she not? And for a linguistics expert and an expert in codes, that knowledge might be, shall we say, invaluable.” He smiled, and even in that there seemed to be a threat. “That knowledge, the evidence of it, can also disappear with one word from me. Do I make myself clear? The women will accept or reject you on my word.”
“You would help us return to the village?” Andra asked.
“You won’t need me. Not if you’ve found what Fu desires most. Take this, I suspect you may have need of it.” He handed Andra a photo.
Andra frowned as she looked at it. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re not expected to.”
“You don’t want to meet your daughter?” Andra persisted.
“I have done everything I can for her. Leaving her is my final gift.” He looked at them both. “Love is precious and rare.”
His statement hung heavily in the air and mixed oddly with his recent threats.
Minutes later he left them on the street in front of their hotel as the door shut crisply behind them and the car slipped into traffic and disappeared.
• • •
Later that night Max found himself lost in thought as he stared out the window. Even in the thin cloud of smog Beijing was still a beautiful sight.
A spill of light was his only warning as she entered the room and put her arms lightly around his waist. “What are you thinking?” she asked with her head against his back.
“That despite out best intentions, we will never be friends,” he replied thickly and turned around, taking her in his arms. “We can’t go backward and neither can we go forward. At least I can’t.”
“You’re right, too much has happened between us. We have gone from friends to something much deeper.”
“Against all logic,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m a grown-up, Max. Let me take care of myself.” Her hand brushed lightly against his back in a massage that offered only comfort. “What else is bothering you, Max?”
“Us, and that’s the truth.”
“Who hurt you, Max?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He took a step away from her.
“Don’t you? I don’t think it was just a case of one relationship.”
“Don’t, Andra.”
“No one permanently changes their ability to have children over one relationship and a betrayal like that, losing a child . . .” She shook her head. “No matter how devastating it was, I suspect there’s something else.”
Silence pulsed between them.
“Trust me, Max, as a friend. A friend at least for now—in this moment.”
The silence was palpable between them. And then as the silence became an uncomfortable obstacle he spoke. “I was an only child and my mother really shouldn’t have had children,” he said slowly. “I’ve never said those words to anyone.”
“I deserve an explanation, don’t you think, Max. After all, we both have rather strong views on where children fit in a relationship. I don’t know if love is enough.”
Love. The word settled between them, large and awkward in the silent room.
“She was not cruel, just misguided. She hit first and reasoned later.”
“And?”
“It’s the past. She didn’t have any parental instinct and obviously neither do I.” He shrugged. “How could I? Parenting is more a learned behavior than instinctive. At least that’s what I have gathered.”
“You’ve said that before, Max. I don’t know how to convince you how wrong you are. I can see the good in you. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I love you.”
“It doesn’t matter, the possibility of children for me is over.”
“There are other ways to have children,” Andra replied. “Remember Fu’s village, the lost girls.”
“No, that’s you, Andra, not me,” he said as she wrapped her arms around him.
“I love you,” she said softly.
“Don’t, Andra. It won’t work, no matter how I feel, no matter . . . ”
They slept together that night against all logical sense.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Despite everything that had happened, entering the Summer Palace the next day, at least to Andra, was both incredibly exciting and surreal.
The lush grounds sprawled around the lake that was part of the central piece of a natural jewel originally fashioned to show off the wealth of an
emperor’s mother. The small lake shimmered in innumerable shades of blue highlighted against a brilliant summer sun. It was an unexpectedly clear day for Beijing. To the left was a walking path that curved languidly along a pond where a swan floated. The path was busy with couples walking and children running in and out between the walkers, yet where they were there was an oasis of quiet. As they moved in the opposite direction, along the path to the lake, Andra could see the stone lion that stood sentinel in front of the red and gold latticework that grazed the palace gate. It was a timeworn testament to wealth and history.
By a glittering gold and red pagoda in a quiet spot just inside the main entrance, a young woman waited. She looked at them with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
“You are M. J. Borders?” Andra asked as she glanced at Max and then returned her attention to the young woman in front of them. She was wearing a burnt orange tam, just as she’d said she would in her earlier email.
“I am,” the woman answered in the perfect, easy English of one who has grown up with the language. She was shorter than Andra by a good five inches and slight. Her face was smooth, unmarred by the lines of age, and her dark brown eyes sparkled with optimism. At the moment, the optimism seemed to be countered by her frown.
Andra thrust out her hand. “You answered our ad about the doll?”
“I have to admit I was reluctant to come here.” She smiled slightly. “But I was intrigued. You said there was a message?”
“There is, but first we would like to make sure you’re the rightful owner,” Max replied. “I don’t know if we can establish that in one meeting.”
M.J. nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough. I suspect that this is about more than a doll. That’s why I came.”
“You’re right,” Andra replied.
“Would you mind if I saw it. The doll, I mean?” She bit her lip. “I remember so little about her. Except her name and that she had a heart on her heel.”
Andra looked up at Max and a surprised look was shared between them. She squeezed his hand and let it go. “What did you name the doll?” she asked quietly.
“Lixie,” M.J. replied.
Again she exchanged a look with Max, a silent communication that while the name wasn’t exact, considering the woman was a child when she had last seen the doll, it was close enough.
Max pulled the doll from his satchel but he didn’t offer it to her. There were other things that needed confirmation first.
M.J’s face lit up. “Where did you get her? I barely remember it. I lost the doll a long time ago. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have remembered what the doll looked like except for the picture I still have.”
“Picture?” Max and Andra both said.
“Yes. My adoptive mother had a picture of me from before I went to the orphanage. I was adopted, you know.”
“We know,” Andra assured her. “At least we assumed.”
“You do? How?”
Andra held up her hand. “In a minute, please, finish your story.”
“It was the last picture of me in China. I was holding the doll. The one you showed on the Internet, and I’ve never seen it since.” She sighed. “My mother never knew what happened to it. She said that it never came with me to the orphanage. The clothes I wore and the picture were all I had.” She lifted her head proudly. “You told me you found the doll. How?”
“It was mailed to me,” Max replied, and there was so much warmth and compassion in his eyes that Andra thought her throat would close with the emotion of it all. “Look, I don’t think this is the place to speak of this. Is there somewhere we can go that’s a bit more private?”
Around them tourists milled, taking pictures of the lake and of the majestic Summer Palace and its adjacent buildings that sprawled over it all.
“What about over there?” Andra pointed to a small gazebo that was just off the path, far enough away for privacy and close enough for M.J. to feel safe.
M.J. followed them quietly to the gazebo, where she brushed the wooden bench with her hand before sitting down and gracefully crossed her legs.
“It’s a long story, Mia.” He hesitated. “You are Mia, aren’t you?”
Slowly she nodded. “Mia Jade. But I’ve always gone by M.J.” She shifted, rubbing the strap of her purse before returning her attention to them. “Mom framed that picture of me with the doll so I would never forget. In fact, I carry a copy with me.” She fumbled in her purse and pulled out a small worn copy of a young girl holding the same doll Max had in his satchel.
Max and Andra exchanged a look.
“Your mother sounds like a special person,” Andra said, thinking of Fu.
“Oh, she is.” M.J. giggled. “A little overprotective even now. I’m twenty-six yet she is insisting that she come over here and make sure everything is all right. She’s flown over twice in six months.”
“Sounds difficult.”
“No.” M.J. laughed. “It’s not. We’re good friends and I rely on her advice.”
“I’m sure your father . . .”
“Mom’s been single longer than I can remember. She was married when she adopted me but he disappeared. Into the woodwork she always says.” M.J. laughed again.
“So you live here now, and before that?” Andra asked.
“Vermont,” M.J. replied. “But I’m here working at one of the orphanages.”
“Vermont,” Andra replied. “I was born there.”
Max glanced at her, his surprise clear.
“I didn’t tell you that,” she said to Max as an aside. “I’ve spent almost as many years there, all told, than I have abroad.”
“I can’t think of a better place to grow up,” M.J. added. Her smile was tentative, yet there was something familiar about the look in her eye. The determination reminded Andra of Le.
“Tell me what you know about the doll, please,” M.J. asked.
“There is only so much we can tell you now, so you’ll have to bear with us,” Max said gravely. “But first we need one more thing to confirm your identity.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you know anything more about your history?” Max asked.
M.J. shook her head. “Nothing except that when I was four I was delivered directly to the orphanage.” Her finger ran through a strand of her glossy black hair and then she flipped it over her shoulder. “It’s strange. This is all bringing back memories. I remember even now how I got there.”
“The orphanage?” Max leaned forward.
“Yes. A man brought me there. I think he was my father.”
“Think?” Andra frowned. This was a completely odd way to refer to someone who was your parent.
“He had no fondness for me. Even now, after all these years, I can feel the hostility. I was only little but it was . . .” She hesitated. “Tangible. That’s why I was given up, why I came to grow up in America. I always knew that, that it was because of him.” She stared off into the distance. “I remember my first mother cried and she said you must name the doll for me so you will never forget.” She looked up and a tear dropped. “And until now I forgot.” She shook her head. “How could I?”
“I don’t think you forgot as much as you think or you wouldn’t be here.” Andra touched her arm gently, briefly.
Max turned to M.J. “Do you have any idea when you were left at the orphanage, or for that matter, which orphanage it was?”
“No. Like I said, I was four years old.”
“May we ask you something personal?” Max asked, as if what they had discussed so far hadn’t been personal enough.
“Shoot,” the young woman replied.
“Do you have any tattoos?”
Her expression became rather shuttered and her eyes narrowed.
“It’s important, M.J. We believe it’s part of your identity,” Andra put in. “It’s in a strange place. Your sole.”
“The sole of your right foot,” Max added.
“A heart,” M.J. said softly. She stood on
one foot and slipped off her trendy running shoe and held up her sockless foot, sole out. On the bottom of her foot was a tiny but intricately crafted heart.
“My mother said it was there when she adopted me.” She put her foot down but left the shoe off. “I’ve often wondered about it.”
Max bent down. “May I?” he asked as he proffered his cupped hands for her to put her foot into. “I’m a linguist, I might be able to tell you what it says.”
“For sure. It’s been a lifelong mystery.” She put her foot into Max’s hands as he sank back on his heels while looking closely at the heart.
His indrawn breath was loud in the silence.
“What is it, Max?” Andra was kneeling beside him.
“Nushu.”
“The women’s language? You’re kidding me?” M.J. laughed nervously.
Max glanced at Andra with an expression of disbelief and then he looked at M.J.. “What do you know about it?”
“Not a lot.” She paused. “Can you read it?”
“My heart.” Max softly repeated the words that seemed to be so much a part of the phrase they had heard so many times since this journey began.
“So tell me, Max,” M.J. asked. “How does a professor from the United States learn a language from China that is almost extinct?”
Max set her foot gently down and looked up. “I became interested in languages at a young age and Nushu was something introduced to me by a former colleague. She was fascinated by the language but unfortunately she never had a chance to explore it.”
Andra turned, startled at something in his voice. She suspected that whoever she was, she had been more than just a colleague to Max. Could the woman who had had the abortion without his knowledge so many years ago have been that colleague?
Max caught her eye at that moment and the sadly whimsical lift of his lips gave her all the confirmation she needed.
“Are those my mother’s words in that tattoo?”
Legacy of Fear Page 16
