Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Mei Lin leaned on the boulder, the cool stone hard against her shoulder.
She had no watch, but she didn’t need one to know that Ethan had been gone much longer than ten minutes. Long enough that she’d recited her favorite psalm five times. Long enough that her fear had scared away all the peace that the scripture had brought.
She shouldn’t have let him go.
She’d stood there like a fool while her husband had walked away, alone and unarmed. She should have demanded to know where he was going, and why, and what he meant to do when he got there.
In prison, she’d learned not to ask questions. She’d learned to accept whatever the guards told her without argument, without needing explanation. She’d trained the questions out of her mouth one by one, until silence felt safer than the sound of her own voice.
But Ethan wasn’t a guard, and this wasn’t prison. Her husband had left her again, this time with no explanation, and now she was hiding behind a rock, dreading what would happen next.
Lord, please.
An engine roared somewhere in the direction where he’d gone. It grew louder, then very loud, and then it shut off abruptly, right on the other side of the boulder.
Silence pressed against her ears.
Whoever was on that machine was right there. While her husband was off doing…whatever he was doing, she was going to be caught. She searched the ground for a rock, something to defend herself with, but there was nothing.
She’d been a fool, sitting there fuming at Ethan rather than preparing for attack. She gazed into the forest behind her. Which way should she run? What would be the best escape route?
“Mei Lin?”
It was Ethan, his voice low.
Relieved, and then furious again, she came out from behind the boulder and saw him standing beside a red moped at the edge of the road.
His hair was wild, his cheekbone bright red, his pants dirty at the knees.
He looked like a boy who’d picked the neighbors’ tulips and was holding them out like a prize.
“Where did you…? Did you steal that?”
He glanced at the bike, puffing up with pride. “Surprise.”
“What were you thinking?”
He blinked. “I was thinking we needed a way off this mountain.”
She crossed the space between them, anger and frustration rising. “You should’ve told me what you planned. You should’ve told me where you were going. I could’ve helped.”
“I didn’t need—”
“Do you even know how to drive one of those?”
“Sure.” But he seemed to be forcing eye contact.
“Have you ever driven one before?”
“Uh…not exactly, but—”
“How do you not exactly drive a moped?”
“I’ve seen them.” He looked at the machine as if it might back him up. “A friend of mine back home had a jet ski. They’re similar.”
She stared at him. “A jet ski.”
“You know, with a throttle. The brake took some getting used to.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t crash.” She gestured at the forest crowding the road on both sides. “Lots of trees on the water, eh?”
His expression hardened. “Just get on. You can yell at me while I drive.”
“I’m driving.”
He had the nerve to look surprised. “Mei Lin—”
“I have experience. I’m driving.”
“We don’t have time to—”
“Then get out of my way.”
He glanced up the road. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
She didn’t move.
He exhaled, long and slow, and stepped to the side. “Fine. I’m happy to let you be in charge.”
There was a lie if she’d ever heard one. Ethan was never happy to let go of control.
She swung her leg over the bike. The handlebars were warm where his hands had been. Everything else was exactly as it should be.
“Wait.” He held a hand out. “Let me take your bag.”
She’d forgotten the backpack he’d given her. She slipped the straps off and handed it to him.
He hooked it on his arm and swung on behind her. His hands settled on her hips. His breath was warm against her hair. “You’re right. This is nice.”
“I know what you’re doing, trying to soften me up.”
“Of course not, my beautiful, wonderful wife. I’m just dazzled by you.”
“Hmm.” She turned the key, and the engine caught and rose into a thin whine. She turned the throttle, and the bike leapt forward harder than she meant it to.
Ethan grunted. She felt him pitch back, then clutch her waist.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Sorry I didn’t land on my butt?”
Perhaps. A little.
The road unspooled in front of her, dappled in sun and shadows. The wind lifted her hair off her neck as the trees blurred past in long streaks of green.
This felt right. This was better.
The narrow road had widened enough that two cars could pass, though aside from an old tractor, they hadn’t seen anyone. Twice they’d hit forks, but Ethan had known which way to go. He’d stolen a phone when he’d stolen the moped, which he’d explained a while back.
“I think I’ve got the map memorized enough to get us to the next town.” He’d spoken loudly so she could hear him over the engine. “I’m gonna toss it.” And then he’d paused and added, “Unless you have a better idea.”
Ha. Look at Ethan, growing as a person. She wished she could think of a way to keep it, but that phone could be tracked. “Go ahead.”
He’d pitched it into the woods, and she followed the road for another hour, until it came to a T.
She stopped.
Even though the engine wasn’t as loud when they weren’t moving, Ethan leaned close to her ear and told her which way to go, his breath warm on her neck.
She liked how it felt to be nestled between his knees, his broad chest at her back. It felt right.
Last night had felt right too.
She hit the gas and made the turn, not thinking about the gentle kisses that had felt like promises, right up until he’d pushed her away and declared it bedtime.
Why, though? She’d felt enough wanting in his touch that she didn’t think it was a lack of desire. They were married, so it was right for them to be together.
Why did he stop? He’d claimed, back in Enshi City, that it was painful to lie beside her and not touch her. Yet, somehow it also seemed to pain him to touch her.
There was a reason, and she needed to know what it was—even if she was afraid of what he would tell her.
The bike crested a hill, and then the road dipped into a narrow valley. Houses were peppered along each side—tile roofs, low walls of concrete. Terraced rice paddies decorated the hills, golden brown and full of water.
At the top of the next hill, another valley opened, this one even larger. There were no high-rises, but a factory chimney pumped a column of gray smoke into the sky, and a haze of dust and exhaust hung over the streets. Trucks crawled along the main road ahead of them.
She slowed, angled onto the shoulder, and killed the engine.
The quiet here was different than it had been at the cabin. A low din rumbled in the distance, a thousand engines humming.
The trees here were sparse, too far apart to hide behind.
Ethan swung off the back. “We’ll have to stick to the side roads and alleys. Too many cameras.”
She glanced down at the gauge. “We need gas.” The final word came out on a yawn, and she stretched.
“If we see a station, we’ll stop, but I don’t want to risk being seen.”
“And if we don’t see one, what will we do? We need fuel to continue.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket, powered it on, then stared at the screen a moment before powering it off again.
“No service?”
“Not yet, but once we get into town…”
“We will find gas.”
“If it doesn’t put us on cameras, but—”
“We must find gas to keep the moped going.”
He pressed his lips together. “But what if the moped was reported stolen? If we’re seen in town with it…”
She considered the conundrum. “Then we must buy a gas can and fill it and carry it back.”
“Let’s call Michael and do what he says.”
She didn’t appreciate having her ideas brushed aside. Before she could say so, he added, “Does that sound right to you? What do you think?”
He was attempting to include her in decisions. He wasn’t very good at it, but she appreciated the effort.
She’d worked for many doctors since she’d become a nurse, and every one of them needed to be in charge, all the time. Even the kind ones.
Ethan was no different.
“Okay,” she said. “We won’t make any decisions until we speak to Michael.”
“Agreed.”
“But I’m not giving up the moped without a fight.”
A small smile. “Thanks for the warning.”
She started to swing her leg back over the seat, but he caught her elbow.
“Wait.”
He opened her backpack and held out one of the protein bars.
“We need food.”
We. But he wasn’t worried about himself. She took the bar and bit into it. It wasn’t as good as the ones he’d bought in…had it been Changsha? It might have protein, but it tasted like cardboard.
They hadn’t eaten breakfast, and they’d been on the bike for hours, but until he’d put the bar in her hand, she hadn’t realized she was hungry.
It was troubling.
Hunger had been her companion for so long that she’d stopped noticing it, perhaps the way a person stops noticing a clock ticking. Her body had forgotten how to ask for food.
How long before she would be herself again?
Ethan was watching her, but when she met his eyes, he looked away, biting into his own bar. “Not bad.”
“Not good, either. I would prefer…” She considered the question as if he’d asked. “One of those chicken salad sandwiches from that deli—”
“On campus near my dorm?”
“Yes, with the homemade potato chips.”
“The steak sandwich with horseradish sauce was the best.”
It was an old argument from back when they dated. She’d take the train down to Seattle to visit him, or he’d drive up to Vancouver. Even when they were both laden with homework, they’d made time for each other, sitting at a coffee shop or in the student union, eating and studying together.
Maybe they would get back to being those people someday. But right now, six years seemed stacked between them like bricks—many of which were the parts of her experience she hadn’t told him.