Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The trail flattened where the woods opened up, then climbed a small rise and dropped. Water burbled somewhere ahead, its scent clean and wild.
Mei Lin led the way along the narrow path until they reached a footbridge that looked older than her grandmother. Gray, slatted planks, two fraying ropes for handrails, the whole thing suspended between two trees that looked like they’d been standing up for a long time and were ready for a break.
The stream beneath ran clear and fast over pale rocks. It wasn’t a far drop, but far enough to hurt if the bridge didn’t last.
It was either the footbridge or the water, and Mei Lin wasn’t in the mood to get wet. She continued toward the bridge until Ethan gripped her upper arm.
“Wait.” He stopped beside her and considered it.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” They hadn’t run into anyone else along this trail, but it had been cleared enough that people must use it.
“Let me go first.” He stepped past her and onto the first plank.
It creaked under his weight, but held. He took another step, and another, hands sliding along the rope.
The bridge swayed, but only a little. In the middle, he looked back over his shoulder and smiled at her before continuing to the other side.
He turned and called, “It’s fine.”
It must be, considering it’d held his weight, which was probably twice hers.
She crossed after him, gripping the rope and marveling at the man who’d insisted on testing it first. That he had set himself between her and the drop shouldn’t have surprised her.
He’d set himself between her and every other danger he’d seen coming.
Even now, he was watching her closely, making sure she didn’t have any trouble, looking like he was ready to lunge if the bridge creaked wrong.
Warmth rose in her chest.
She reached the other side safely, stopping a foot from her husband, who was giving her the oddest look.
“What?”
His eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that you are overprotective.”
“You’re welcome.” He grinned and stepped aside, swinging his arm to present the trail. “After you, milady.”
“Such a gentleman.” She continued past him and into the woods. The trail was narrower now, threading between ferns. She yawned. Then yawned again.
Behind her, Ethan chuckled. “Shall I carry you?”
“That’s very chivalrous.”
“I’m serious. You want a piggy-back ride?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “You are calling me a pig?”
“No, I didn’t mean…” He seemed to realize she was joking and shook his head. “You’re impossible.”
They walked a few yards, and then she couldn’t help it. She yawned again. “I’m getting plenty of sleep. I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
“You’re getting sleep, but it’s not very restful.”
They reached more trees, and she was sorry to say goodbye to the sunshine, though every step took them closer to Gavin’s contacts and, hopefully, rest. “What do you mean?”
There was a long pause. “You’ve been having nightmares. Or—I assume they’re nightmares. Last night, you thrashed around like something bit you. After I swept the flashlight into every corner for enemies, I managed to get you to settle. You don’t remember?”
As he spoke, the memory came back, fuzzy at the edges.
“It was rats.”
She heard the small intake of breath behind her, but he didn’t ask.
“They came at night,” she said. “When everyone was asleep, they’d come for our toes or our fingers. You could hear their little squeaks. Women would wake up bleeding. Sometimes the bites would get infected, and then… It could be bad.”
She kept her eyes on the path, inhaling the fresh piney air, feeling the light breeze lift her hair. She was free now. She could talk about it.
“It didn’t matter where you slept. Top bunk, bottom bunk. They came down the poles. Out of the ceiling. At first, I would lie awake listening for them. But after a while”—she lifted her shoulders and let them drop—“I learned to accept it. You had to if you wanted to sleep.”
When Ethan didn’t speak, she kept talking.
“There was a woman. She was like a grandmother. I called her āyí. She was already sick when the rat got to her. It was just a little bite on her ankle, that’s all, but she couldn’t keep it clean—none of us could keep anything clean—and the infection went bad fast.” Her throat tightened.
“She went to the infirmary, but they didn’t care.
They told her she’d brought it on herself because she was dirty.
” Mei Lin took a breath, exhaled the bitterness that wanted to make a home inside her. “A few days later, she died.”
She walked another half-dozen steps before Ethan’s silence began to feel wrong. He had been making small sounds the whole way—boots on dirt, a hand brushing a branch back, the occasional hum when she said something he was thinking about. Now there was just the soft thud of his feet.
She turned around.
He was right there. Closer than she’d thought. His eyes were red, and wet, and he was not bothering to hide it.
“Ethan—”
He closed the small distance between them and pulled her against his chest, one hand at the back of her head, the other firm across her shoulders. He held her as if she might break—or he might.
“I’m sorry.” He spoke into her hair. “Mei Lin, I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything—”
“You’re right. I didn’t. If I had known, I would have moved heaven and earth to get to you. I never would have left you there.”
She closed her eyes. The fabric of his jacket smelled like dust and pine. “You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“Ethan.” She tried to pull back enough to see his face, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “You couldn’t have known. My parents were in China, and they didn’t know.”
“You should have been able to count on me.”
“I am counting on you now.”
“It’s not enough.”
What could she say to comfort him?
Lord. Hold him. Help him, please.
After a while, her own eyes started to leak, not because of the rats or āyí but because of her husband’s grief. And her parents, who would feel the same when they learned she was alive.
“I wish I could see my parents.” Her voice came out small. “I know it’s too risky, but I’ll never be able to return to China. I’ll never see them again.”
Ethan backed away enough for her to see his face. His eyes were still red, his cheeks wet, but he wore a small smile.
“What?”
“I kind of wanted it to be a surprise, but I need to tell you… Your parents are in America.”
“What?” She stepped back. “How did that…? I don’t understand.”
“After you… After we learned you’d died… You knew I was working on getting your visa. What you didn’t know was that your parents had also applied. They didn’t want to get your hopes up in case it wasn’t God’s plan.”
“I’m shocked. I thought they’d never leave China.”
“I was praying they’d come. I knew you’d want family nearby, and… Anyway, the pandemic slowed everything down, but two years ago, their visas came through.”
“What about Renshu? Did he go too?”
A shadow crossed Ethan’s face.
“Did something happen? Is he okay?”
“As far as I know, your brother is fine.” He nodded forward. “We should keep moving.”
She started walking, still reeling from the information. It was good news, wonderful news, even if she was so surprised that she could hardly process it. Her parents had been happy for her to make a life in the West, but she’d thought they’d never leave China as long as Renshu was here.
“He works for the Party,” Ethan said behind her.
Ah. She sighed. “So he still doesn’t believe in God.” Her brother had been raised in the church, like her, but he’d always been skeptical. When he went to college, his skepticism had turned ugly. He’d once referred to the Christmas story as a children’s fairy tale. “I thought he was coming around.”
“He was, I guess. But then his sister died.”
She turned. “Did he care that much?” She shook her head. It was a stupid question. He was her brother. But after he’d left home, he’d kept his distance.
“He told your parents they worshipped a cruel and malicious God, that at least the Communists didn’t kill innocent people.”
“But they do! Often. Selective memory, my brother. Does he not remember Tiananmen Square? And all the others who are imprisoned or killed because they dare to disagree with the government?”
Ethan shrugged. “I assume he wouldn’t consider people protesting the government innocent.”
“Ach.” Frustration churned inside her. She turned and stalked forward. How ironic that Renshu had blamed God for her death when the government he loved so much had kept her imprisoned for six years because some doctor wanted to silence her.
“By the time your parents’ visas came through,” Ethan said, “they hadn’t seen or spoken to Renshu in years.”
“They must have grieved both of us.” At least now, they would get her back. “Where do they live?” Mama had a cousin in Vancouver. Maybe they’d settled in Seattle.
“They live in the house I grew up in, in Virginia.”
She stopped again, facing him. “They live with you?”
“I have an apartment near the hospital. The house is in Driftwood, about a half hour away. Gavin bought it for Mom and me to live in when I was a kid. It was in his name, but when I graduated from college, he gave it to me. It’d been empty ever since Mom got married and moved to Phoenix.
I figured your parents would be comfortable there. ”
He’d given her parents his house? Even when he’d thought she was dead and gone forever?
She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, barely able to speak. “I chose a good man.”
His hands settled on her hips. “They’re family. I love them.”
Her heart broke for Renshu, but maybe when she told him what happened, his mind would change.
Either way, she would go home to Virginia with her husband, and her parents would be waiting for her. She’d already looked forward to it, but now, she couldn’t get there fast enough.