Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The farmland was thinning.
Mei Lin leaned her head against the cool glass and watched the flat brown fields give way to hills, the hills to sharper ridges. Pine forests darkened the slopes. Terraced rice paddies stair-stepped down toward the road, empty and waiting for spring.
She knew this country.
Not this road, not exactly, but the feel of it. The slant of the mountains, the red tile roofs pressed tight against the hillside, the small brick kilns with their chimneys smoking against a sky gone lavender. Her village had looked like this. Smaller, but similar.
Every mile they traveled took her closer to home, to Mama and Bàba.
Like Ethan, they’d never come to see her. She’d gone six years without a word from them.
Were they still alive, or had the virus taken them like it’d taken so many others? She hated to think that they might be gone, but what other explanation could there be? If they’d heard she’d been released from prison, what would they do?
Her mother would already be packing a bag. Her father would be telling Mama to sit down and wait for confirmation, but he’d be checking the train schedule behind her back.
They must have passed into the arms of Jesus. Or, if not, then they must have had a good reason not to come see her. Maybe they realized doing so could put them in danger. That was the last thing she wanted.
As much as she longed to, she couldn’t go to them. She wouldn’t. Not with Lu Feng out there. She would not be the reason he came for her parents.
She didn’t understand her parents’ silence or Ethan’s.
She didn’t understand why the warden had opened her cell door, telling her the six years she’d lost were nothing more than a clerical error.
It was too much, and despite the fact that she’d dozed off and on for this entire drive, she was exhausted. Ethan had woken her at one point and pressed two protein bars and a bottle of water into her hands. She’d eaten the bars, drunk the water, then promptly fallen back asleep.
Would she ever feel rested?
Even now, she let her eyes drift closed again.
Ethan’s voice woke her. He was on the phone, speaking quietly.
He paused to listen, then said, “It wasn’t my first choice either.
” More listening, a long sigh. “I can read a map.” Sharp word.
Another pause. “Thank him for me.” The call ended with three faint beeps.
Ethan gave the driver the name of a hotel, and the driver tapped it into his phone without letting up on the gas.
Mei Lin stretched. “Everything okay?”
Ethan’s smile looked forced. “Gavin found us a place.”
“Who is Gavin?”
Ethan faced forward again. “My father.”
She blinked, trying to put that information somewhere it made sense.
She’d met Ethan’s mother and her family after they started dating.
The woman had been kind but…distracted seemed like the right word.
Here she had this grown-up son, but her focus had been on her two school-aged boys.
Not that she didn’t love Ethan. Mei Lin had seen the woman’s love in her eyes.
She just hadn’t had a lot of room for him in her life.
That weekend, Mei Lin had asked Ethan about his birth father, who was not the man his mother was married to.
“He’s not in the picture.” Ethan had said the words as if they were the end of the story.
Somewhere along the way, the story had changed.
“He has connections,” Ethan added.
“I hope you’ll tell me about him.”
“We have a lot to catch up on.”
That was an understatement.
He’d been reconnecting with his father, apparently, and not looking for her.
The pain of it sat under her ribs. She could’ve told Ethan about the evidence she’d been collecting for months before she was arrested. She’d worried their conversations would be intercepted. She’d been trying to protect herself.
She’d obviously failed. Lu Feng had discovered what she was up to despite her precautions.
The driver took an exit, and she read the sign as they passed.
Zhangjiajie City Center.
Low apartment blocks and shop awnings closed in around them. Locals and tourists bundled in coats and scarves moved along the streets. Her parents had brought her and her brother, Renshu, to see the sandstone pillars in the nearby national park when they were kids.
She could still remember the thick summer heat and the scent of wildness in the air as she and Renshu stood on a viewing platform.
He kept pointing out this pillar or that, but she was fascinated by an ornery macaque, a funny-faced monkey that swung low on a vine and snatched a cap off an old man’s head, then disappeared into the trees.
Wanting to see where the macaque went, she’d hiked herself onto the railing and leaned forward.
Renshu had snatched her back. “Be careful, little monkey, or you’ll fall.”
Her bossy big brother was always telling her what to do. She’d pretended she minded, but secretly, she’d enjoyed the attention.
Later, in the gift shop, he’d presented her with a little painted wooden monkey. “I’d like you to meet your twin.”
She’d acted offended, but its little face was so cute. “I wish I could swing through the trees like a monkey.”
She could still hear his laugh.
She missed Renshu. She missed her parents. Would she ever see them again?
Ethan took her hand and spun the rings on her finger, his gaze finding hers.
She would always long for her first family, but Ethan was her family now. He was still the man she’d married, the man she loved. And he said he loved her too. Hopefully, they’d live long enough to find a way back to each other.
The driver pulled to the curb on a busy street in front of a huge hotel. “This is it.”
Ethan handed him a stack of bills. “There’s extra there. Please keep our conversation—and destination—quiet.”
“That’s my job.”
“Thanks.” Ethan exited onto a sidewalk.
She followed. The air smelled fresh from a recent rain, tinged with exhaust. Her legs were wobbly and sore from their dash through Changsha that morning.
She was embarrassingly weak.
Ethan shouldered the backpack and put an arm around her waist to usher her inside.
They were going to be alone again. If she could keep her eyes open long enough, she might finally get some answers.
The hotel clerk barely looked up when Ethan pocketed the key cards after checking in. “We’re going to get lunch.”
The woman nodded as if she’d understood, but Mei Lin guessed her English didn’t extend much past the vocabulary she needed for her job.
Mei Lin added, “We haven’t eaten since breakfast, and this one”—she nudged Ethan—“is always hungry.”
“Ah, yes.” The woman’s face lit up as she responded in Mandarin. She looked Ethan up and down, taking in his tall form and clearly appreciating it. “A man like that must need to be fed often, eh?” She wagged her eyebrows, then named a few nearby restaurants. “Big portions for a big man.”
“Perfect.” Mei Lin trapped a laugh as they exited the hotel.
“What was that all about?” Ethan asked once they were back on the sidewalk.
“I think, if you tire of me, she would be interested.”
His expression, all shock and horror, had her laugh escaping.
He shook his head, but his lips twitched.
The afternoon sun had broken through, warming the top of Mei Lin’s head despite the chilly mountain air. Ethan took her hand and headed down the sidewalk.
After a block, she stifled a yawn. “I hope we’re not going far.”
He shot her a look—chin lowered, eyebrows raised.
“What?”
He didn’t respond, but his meaning was clear. Apparently, the woman who’d done little besides sleep for the last twenty-four hours probably ought not to claim exhaustion. But she was exhausted. “Let’s not get too far from the hotel.”
“We’re not staying there.” He kept his voice low. “Just laying a trail.”
She glanced back at the hotel. “Oh. Then where—?”
“It’s not far. We’re eating first.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Another look, then a sigh. “Well, I am. And you need to eat.”
He stopped outside a restaurant and looked at her for guidance. “Does it look okay? What do they serve?”
She peeked through the glass door and spied red plastic stools, a tile floor worn down in the middle from decades of scraped chairs, and a sizable crowd for the time of day. She couldn’t see the menu but figured she’d be safe in saying, “Chinese food.”
“Haha.” Ethan pulled the door open and let her precede him to the counter. He skimmed a laminated menu and then pointed at one of the pictures. “Will this be good?”
She read the description. “It will be spicy.”
He considered that, then said, “Would you order me something you think I’d like?”
She chose a dish similar to the one he’d pointed at—noodles with smoked pork but fewer peppers and, after getting a nod from him, told the woman.
“And something for you,” Ethan said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Humor me.”
That was one of those Western expressions that didn’t make sense. He wasn’t saying tell me a joke. He was saying do it because I asked.
She ordered a bowl of soup.
The meals were at their table in minutes. Though she knew she needed food, the protein bars Ethan had given her were enough to last until past dinnertime.
Ethan ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week.
She managed a few noodles and a single piece of pork. The broth was rich and salty, and it tasted wonderful, but it was a lot.
When she set the chopsticks down, Ethan’s gaze flicked to her bowl, then to her face. He said nothing, but his lips pressed tight.
“It is okay.” She was going for a lighthearted tone. “You ate enough for both of us.”
His mouth moved into the shape of a smile, but his eyes didn’t match. “If you say so.” He returned to his lunch.
What did you talk about with a husband you hadn’t seen in six years? There were so many questions between them, and they’d stacked up like a wall. Was she supposed to lob some incidental remark over it?
How’s the weather on your side of the elephant in the room?
An elephant in the room—another Western saying that had confused her the first time she’d heard it. It made sense to her right now.
They finished their lunch in silence, then walked eight blocks in more silence.