Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (22 page)

A few feet away, Mari stared out the window. It was early morning, and the streets were starting to show some activity—the early risers already out, bundled up as they wove bicycles in and around each other, business owners opening up shop, and cars and trucks starting to hog the road.

“Mari?”

Mari looked over An Ni’s head, meeting his eyes.

“If you can keep her with you for a while, I’ll come every day and take her back and forth to the hospital, until she’s released from care.”

Mari gave him a small smile, though she didn’t answer.

He felt sorry for her. She was exhausted, and she was still processing the last several hours and the reality that she’d almost left Beijing to return to her hometown as a widow, but now was going back to the apartment she’d shared with her husband, where she’d be caring for two children until they could figure out a plan. He agreed it was mind-boggling, but her silence was frightening. Surely she wasn’t thinking of giving the girls over to the authorities? They’d talked for most of those hours as they sat waiting for An Ni, and she’d confided in him some serious horror stories about her early street life, crooked authorities, and the broken—or basically non-existent—foster care system. While it wasn’t his decision, he felt strongly about helping to care for An Ni, even if he had to extend his visa to make sure it happened. Hell, even if he had to bring both her and the little one to his own rundown apartment to do it! Of course, that wouldn’t look appropriate, and he’d probably end up in jail.

He stared out the window. Now the morning light washed over the streets and buildings, flooding in through the glass to rest on his face and arm. With the sudden warmth, he realized something. For the first time in a very long time, he’d gotten through the night without drinking.

He realized something else, too. Somehow, someway, he had to figure out how was the best way for him to help An Ni. There were so many coincidences that had brought him to the girl—he knew now, this was the last task. And he wouldn’t walk away until he knew for sure this time that he’d succeeded.

Chapter Twenty-One

M
ari went to the stove and pulled the teakettle from the red-hot burner. She took it to the table and filled the four cups there, breathing deeply the scent of the dark tea leaves as they finished steeping. She set out a pack of dried rice cakes and put down a few napkins. There wasn’t much to choose from, but she felt relieved she hadn’t subleased out the apartment. Once again, her baba had been right when he’d warned her not to make any hasty decisions. Though it was sparse, at least they’d had a place to bring the girls.

Now her feet were planted in the exact place where, only days ago, her husband’s body had lain for everyone to see. She’d thought she wouldn’t have to return there until several weeks or more had passed to give her time to digest everything. Yet here she was.

Yes, he’s really gone.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt a wave of dizziness.

“
Zuo xia
, Mari,” her mama urged, gesturing at the chair.

She dropped into the empty chair. She was tired—more tired than she’d ever been in her life, it seemed. They’d returned, and Max had carried An Ni up all the stairs and into the apartment. The girl had barely stirred except for a moment to ask where Mei was, then had settled back into sleep when he’d laid her down right beside the sleeping little girl in Mari’s bed.

“They’ll probably sleep until noon,” Max said, then brought the cup to his lips and sipped cautiously. “Poor kids—they’ve been through hell. Can you imagine living out there in those woods alone?”

Mari’s baba was quiet. When they’d returned, her mama was sleeping in the bed beside Mei and he’d been snoring on the couch, but both had gotten right up. Her baba asked all about the care the hospital had given An Ni, and what it cost, then he’d slipped into one of his contemplative moods, letting her mama take over the conversation. He’d barely acknowledged Max, and Mari couldn’t tell if he approved of her friendship with him or not.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Mari, we’ve got to make some decisions about those girls.”

She nodded. Her parents needed to get back to Wuxi—she’d interrupted their lives enough with the troubles of her own. She knew they worried about Mari’s younger sisters, even though Widow Zu had promised to look after them. And as attached as Maggie Mei and Jasmine had always been to her mama and baba, she knew it was rough for them to be apart.

One quick peek at Max told her he didn’t understand her baba’s local dialect, but he refrained from asking what was said. “
Zhi dao
, I know. An Ni can’t travel, though.” She quickly translated her words to English for Max’s sake.

“Then you must stay here until she can. I’ll stay, too,” her mama said softly.

Mari shook her head quickly. “
Bushi
, Mama. You have to go back with Baba. You’re needed at home. I got this—and Max has promised to help.”

Max looked up, hearing his name. Mari told him what was being said, and he nodded in agreement. “Of course I’ll do all I can to help. I can make a few calls and get my boss in the states to work on extending my visa.”

“We could take the little one with us. But what worries me is that legally we can’t just take them out of the province without approval. What if we’re stopped and asked for her hukou registration?” her baba asked.

Her mama looked frightened. “
Aiya
, they might accuse us of child trafficking if we can’t prove she’s ours.”

“From what I gathered from An Ni last night, she won’t agree to be separated anyway. I’ll just have to take care of them both until we figure something out,” Mari said. Taking the girls on the train was risky—it was common for the conductors or security to conduct random identification checks. Mari wouldn’t tell her parents, but she really didn’t know how she’d afford to feed the girls. Her parents didn’t yet know the extent of her situation. She’d finally told them about the camel, but she’d made out as if everything was fine because she’d been working as a tour guide to Max. And Mari was a little ashamed, but she’d built that up to be much more than it actually was. The truth was, after paying for Bolin’s funeral and then the rent for the upcoming month, she was broke. Again.

She’d just have to find a job immediately. The girls would be fine staying home alone—they were street children, after all. They’d learned to survive thus far; a few weeks in the shelter of her apartment would feel like paradise to them.

“I wonder if either of them know where their families are?” her baba asked.

“An Ni doesn’t. I asked her last night. She doesn’t remember them at all. I don’t know about Mei. She mentioned the man I met weeks ago—the leader of the street gang.”

“
Liáng shàng jūn z
i
,” her baba muttered.

“What is that?” Max asked, straining to follow along.

“
Liáng shàng jūn z
i
means “thief”. It literally translates to “man on the roof beam”. We were talking about the one in charge of the street gang An Ni and Mei were a part of.”

Mari watched as Max’s expression changed from curious to fiercely determined as he strained to understand. She’d described to him how street gangs worked the night before, and the roles and pecking orders of those in charge of the helpless ones.

“What was his name?” Max asked.

“He goes by Tianbing to the kids,” Mari said. “But it doesn’t matter—he can’t be touched. Believe me, he’s just another gofer. There are others much higher up than him, who he reports to.”

“Maybe, but he’s the one standing those two girls out there on the corner day and night,” Max said, gesturing toward the bedroom. “He should have to answer for that.”

No one said anything, and Mari didn’t translate. Her mama and baba were bright enough to know that Max was simply venting about the man who’d been the girls’ captor.

Mari waited, letting Max calm down. She’d learned a lot in the last few weeks, and one thing stood out—Americans were very openly emotional people. And he had a lot to learn in China, especially that bringing down someone involved in the gangs was next to impossible.

Finally Max let out a long sigh, shrugged his shoulders, then put both hands on the table. “So what have you all decided?”

Mari spoke more confidently than she felt. “The girls will stay here until An Ni is well enough to travel. Then if we can’t find where they came from to return them to their families, we’ll have to rent a car to get them to Wuxi.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

M
ax blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear away the blurriness from being awake so long. He’d been up and down streets for hours since he’d left Mari’s apartment. She’d told him that she’d first met An Ni close to her home, and she didn’t know it and probably wouldn’t approve of it, but Max was determined to find that spot. After he’d stopped by his own place for his camera bag, he’d begun his search.

So far, it had netted nothing. Ahead he saw two young boys squatting against a wall, looking bored as they slung a rock back and forth between them. He approached them, his friendliest smile fixed on his face.

“
Ni hao
,” he called out, and he waved at the two.

They looked up and returned his greeting with probably the only word of English they knew. “Hello!”

He laughed and came closer, then focused his attention on the boy that sported a jagged scar on his face. He hoped he got his words right.

“Tianbing
laoban
?” He asked if they knew the man who An Ni claimed was their boss.

The smiles disappeared from the boys’ faces, and they jumped up, suddenly afraid and needing to look busy, telling Max they probably knew him.

They held up their hands, shaking their heads no as they backed away.

“Wait!
Wo
—um—
wo gei ta qian
,” he hoped his words were at least close to right and the boys would understand that he wanted to give Tianbing money. That was all they were interested in, after all.

It worked. The boys stopped. The bigger one, at least a head taller than the other, seemed to struggle with himself. Max knew he wasn’t sure if he’d be in trouble for pointing out where the man was, or more trouble for letting someone go when they claimed to want to give his boss man some money.

Max decided to make it an easier decision. He pulled out a fifty-renminbi bill and leaned over and held it out.

“Tianbing?” he asked, pushing the bill into the boy’s hand and closing his fingers around it.

The boy squeezed the money and looked at the younger boy, who just shrugged his shoulders. Finally the bigger boy pointed behind Max.

Max turned around and saw a noodle shop across the street. In the corner of the building, sitting at a booth looking out the window, he spotted a man.

Tianbing. It had to be.

The boys took off running, and Max waited for traffic to give him enough of a lull to step out into the crosswalk. He kept his eye on the window, watching to make sure Tianbing didn’t slip out unnoticed. As Max drew closer, he went back over his plan in his head. Just before entering the shop, he changed his mind and ducked into the shadow of the alley. It wasn’t long before Tianbing made his way out into the street and scanned the sidewalk. For a second, Max considered that with only a few steps, he could wrap his hands around the man’s neck and squeeze until he’d rid the world on one less piece of trash. But then Max would be just like him, using violence to get his way. So instead he snapped a few photos, then waited.

Tianbing turned west and began walking, looking up and down alleys and seeming to pay attention to street corners. Max followed him for close to half an hour before finally, Tianbing sauntered up to a small boy who lay flat on his stomach, rolling around on a plank with wheels. In front of him, the boy nodded at a ceramic bowl, begging for pedestrians to give as they walked by. Shockingly, the boy didn’t have any legs at all.

Max watched as Tianbing crouched down in front of the boy, who tensed up. The crude man picked up the bowl, plucked the few bills out of it and waved them in front of the boy, taunting him. Max stayed back in the crowd, clicking his shutter as fast as possible—though what he really wanted to do was intercede with his fist.

When Tianbing stood and began walking again, Max straightened his shoulders and got in behind him, careful to keep plenty of people between them. Max was tired—so much so that he felt he could huddle in the corner of the alley and sleep forever. But he’d stay with the man, and in a few hours, he would have exactly what he needed.

Mari laughed out loud at Mei’s antics. It was just after noon, and the little girl was dressed in Mari’s own tattered pink bathrobe and had tied it high above her waist, the hem hanging well to the floor, covering her feet as she danced around the room. She’d declared herself
Huo Chengjun
, the empress from the Han Dynasty and the subject of the bedtime story Mari had told them the night before. Mei had been enamored when she’d gotten to the part about the empress continually rewarding her servants with gifts of wealth. That someone in power had deigned to care about the lowest in her household had surprised Mei, prompting her to ask a half-dozen questions before Mari could get her to finally close her eyes. Once again, as Mari dug deep in her memory for more of the story, she realized what a gift she’d had in being raised by her mama and baba. Because of them, she had stories in abundance stored up—she’d just never had anyone to tell them to.

Now Mei was wide awake and full of sass. She’d already taken a shower, washed her hair, and stood ready to take on the day. The only downer so far was that Mari had nothing that fit to clothe the girl in. If she could talk An Ni out of her clothes and into a gown like Mei, she’d take both of their sets of clothing down to the laundry.

Despite her weariness, Mari had to smile. It was astonishing how having the two girls in the house had turned it from a somber, cold, and depressing environment into what felt like a bright, cozy home that she barely recognized. She wished that Bolin could be a part of it—to feel the warmth, and experience the life it now held.

Mei giggled brightly again. Instead of a formal empress, she reminded Mari of the fictional fairies she’d read in legends of long ago. She was a cheerful little thing—unrestrainedly happy at her and An Ni’s new circumstances.

“I can make soup for lunch,” Mei said, then jumped up on the couch beside An Ni.

An Ni flinched. “Not your soup—please.”

Mari could see that even several hours of sleep in a soft, warm bed hadn’t given the girl much relief from the pain of her leg. At one point when An Ni had cried out in her sleep, Mari had almost relented and given the girl one of Bolin’s pain pills, but then stopped herself. The doctor had said An Ni was too young for pain medication given orally, and since they were seeing him that afternoon for more antibiotics, An Ni would hopefully get something for relief then. They’d gotten close fast when Mari had to help get her to the bathroom, but An Ni had been thankful for real facilities and joked with her about the acrobatic maneuvers she’d had to do to relieve herself at the shack. And while Mei was cute as a button, Mari still felt an almost magnetic pull to An Ni. She stared at her from across the room, trying to fathom what it was about her that captivated her so.

“I thought you liked my soup?” Mei asked, her lips forming a pout.

“I did. I’m teasing,” An Ni reassured her. She scratched at her head.

Mari cleared her throat to get their attention. “Actually, my parents went to the store for my mama to get stuff to make her Duck Soup with Four Gods—a legendary health soup. They should be back anytime, but how about something small for now?”

Both girls nodded, and Mari headed to the kitchen. She pulled two bowls of instant noodles from her cupboard, then set some water on to boil. Her mama had awakened with one thought in mind: that the girls needed medicinal soup to help restore their depleted bodies. Mari thought that it was going to take a lot more than duck, yams, lotus seeds, and even gorgon fruit. Both Mei and An Ni were way too thin—they were gaunt, actually. And her mama always comforted with food, so it was her contribution to their recovery. Her baba had simply smiled at Mari over her mama’s head and winked, then got on his jacket to escort her to the street shops.

Mari still hadn’t figured out what she was going to do. As she saw it, she didn’t have many choices, though. The girls couldn’t travel. They couldn’t be thrown into the social services cesspool. And they sure weren’t going back to the streets. That made the decision easy, but even though Max said he’d help, what if he didn’t? And what if she couldn’t find a job? How would she clothe and feed them?

Mei ran up to her and beckoned for her to bend down.

“Mei, no!” An Ni said from the couch.

Mari bent down, and Mei whispered in her ear. “We have head lice.”

Mari stood up and looked at An Ni. The girl sat looking at the floor, her face scarlet with shame.

Mari reached down and hugged Mei close to her. “It’s okay, Mei. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve had head lice before, and my mama knows just how to get rid of it. We’ll have you two fixed up in no time.”

Mari looked around the room. In addition to all of their heads, the bedding, rugs, and even the couch would need to be treated. More expenses to figure out how to cover. She realized now why the gods hadn’t seen fit to bless her with a child. All these years later, and she still wasn’t prepared. She couldn’t even imagine how parents going through hard times supported their children.