Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (24 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

M
ax looked over at Mari as the taxi driver swerved around yet another pack of bicycles in the street. Mari looked lost in thought as she stared out the window. As for him, he was feeling victorious. He’d finally broken through his writer’s block, and after five straight nights of nothing stronger than lots of coffee, his fingers zoomed across the keys of his laptop, putting together his first story in a long time. Just as the sun peeked over the horizon and streamed into his apartment, he’d finished it and sent it off. He’d probably know by the next morning if it had passed muster.

His sudden new routine was also going well. He’d made good on his promise, helping Mari with An Ni every day to make sure she got the care she needed to recover. Mari was quiet most of the time. She was still grieving, he could tell, but around the girls, she put on a bright face and worked hard to make their days interesting. He’d watched the two girls flourish in such a short time of attention. No longer did they seem like two wise old ladies stuffed into children’s bodies—now they played often, Mei especially enjoying the dolls and other toys he’d brought them. An Ni loved the different board games and cards, even whipping his tail in most every challenge he threw down. Max was lucky that he’d been able to extend his stay and his rental, but he really only slept there. The girls and even Mari begged him to stay late, then return early each morning. Finally, he felt needed. And the best part about it was that after that first night, he’d poured out all the bottles he’d stashed in his room and suitcase, and he hadn’t touched a drop. Even though he wasn’t still completely at peace, Mari and the girls were good for him. Or maybe they were simply good for each other. Whichever it was—it made him feel like living again.

Mari’s parents had decided to stay in Beijing until An Ni’s cast was removed, and once they’d returned from her hospital visit, Mari agreed to leave the girls long enough to accompany him on a small trip to the other side of town. Max knew Mari needed to get out, and she also needed to be doing something important to keep her mind from her recent tragedy. He hoped that their afternoon away would serve both purposes.

After a lengthy taxi ride, they climbed out, and Max led Mari down the street, his hand on her arm to help guide her around the many obstacles of food stands, standard and electric bicycles, tables displaying small antiques, and the packs of people everywhere. He and Mari moved under a canopy of strung red lanterns that swayed in the wind like a red sea, most likely leading them to the most profitable part of the busy street. If he remembered correctly, it was also where the teapot on the rooftop was located.

He gave Mari’s arm a playful nudge. “So it’s my turn to be the tour guide. This is Liulichang, the antique market I told you about. My daughter read about this place, and she was obsessed with Beijing’s crickets and the elaborate handheld palaces you can buy here to house them in. I came to check it out when I first got to China.”

“Did she have crickets?”

Max laughed softly. “The first time she figured out that our local boating store kept a bin of crickets to sell for fishing bait, she climbed out of my truck and waltzed over there, then lifted the lid and let them all out. I had to pay for two hundred and thirty-seven crickets, yet only took one home. She named it Freedom, and I told her it’d die—but just to prove me wrong, that stubborn thing lived for months. When it died, I felt so sorry for her that I snuck a new one into its place before she figured it out.”

Mari smiled. “Did you buy her a bamboo cricket palace when you were here?”

Max pointed at an old man feeding a red twisted candy on a stick to a toddler in his arms. Both of them were a sticky mess—and he paused for a moment and took a picture. “No, I just came to witness a cricket fight. Now that was an experience.”

Mari cringed. “I guess you saw they can get dicey. Sometimes the crickets are allowed to fight to the death. But this
is
a nice market.”

Mari paused to look at a row of calligraphy brushes on display. “I can’t believe Bolin and I never made it to this part of town. All we ever did was work. And now he’s gone.”

Max didn’t reply. He wouldn’t have a clue how to, so he kept his tongue. Secretly he might not respect the life her husband had built for them, but he’d respect the man’s memory.

They continued on and passed small shops of books, paintings, and even puppets on their way to the middle of the antique market where Max believed the area Mei had drawn would be found. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack, especially because Mei didn’t know her family name or even the name of her grandfather’s store. He and Mari discussed it, and that was another reason they’d come without Mei—they didn’t want the little girl to be too disappointed if they found nothing. He patted his shirt pocket inside his jacket, making sure the photographs were still there.

“I’m still a little worried about An Ni,” he said, narrowly avoiding a small boy that walked into his path.

“Because of her leg?”

“No. Well, that too, though you said the doctor says she’s healing fine. But didn’t you think she acted upset that we were coming here without her? I can’t get a feel for if she wants us to find Mei’s family, or if she’s afraid we might.”

Mari shook her head. “I don’t know either. For the last few days she’s followed me everywhere in the apartment, afraid for me to disappear. I think that as close as she and Mei are, An Ni is afraid of losing her. But if things go right and by some miracle we find Mei’s family, I’m hoping they’ll also take in An Ni.”

Max was quiet. He didn’t know if he liked that idea. Mari didn’t know enough of his story to understand it, but finding An Ni was a miracle—and not something he was ready to let go of yet. Helping her and Mei made him feel that perhaps he’d finally completed all the tasks set out for him, yet that elusive something he sought still felt an arm’s length away. He also wasn’t ready for Mari to leave for Wuxi again. Crazy, but after so many months of isolating himself to the point that no one in his life ever called or made an effort to see him anymore, Mari and the girls made him feel ready to be a part of humanity again. He didn’t want to lose that.

Not to mention, photographing the girls this morning would easily be one of his favorite moments in China. While Mei had loved posing for the camera and given him many shots to choose from, An Ni was resistant, only allowing one photo. Knowing he only had one shot at it, Max had thought he’d really need to set up the perfect pose, but before he’d had time to think it over, he’d looked through his lens to see her framed in the window, a shadow cast across her face. He’d snapped her right then, with the unprotected emotion glimpsed in her dark eyes for that instant, before she’d hidden it again. The girls were opposites—where Mei was loud and cheerful, An Ni was always quiet and pensive. Max felt that the older girl had led a tumultuous life, even more than she’d admitted to.

But the photos in his pocket only featured Mei, and Max hoped that with them he’d find someone close to her or her family, someone who could help them bring the little girl home. He thought of his own daughter, and his gut tightened. If she’d ever been abducted, he would’ve moved heaven and earth to find her. He couldn’t imagine what Mei’s parents were going through, and it was his duty to at least try to reunite them. He wished he could do the same for An Ni.

“Has An Ni told you if she remembers her parents or where she was before the street life?” Max asked, keeping his eye out for any kind of watch shop.

They passed a large stand of buttons—hundreds and hundreds of red buttons sporting the proud profile of Chairman Mao. Max was amazed that the people still collected Mao memorabilia, even since so many were now coming out and calling him a destroyer of their country.

“No, she won’t talk about it. She either doesn’t remember, or it’s too painful to go back there in her mind. Yesterday while we waited for the nurse to start her antibiotics, she spent the hour asking me about Bolin and why we didn’t have any children…”

Max thought he heard a catch in her voice as she trailed off to nothing. “She’s getting very attached to you.”

Mari nodded. “She’s growing attached to all of us. I tried to explain to her yesterday that our situation couldn’t stay the same. I don’t even have a way to support myself right now. If it wasn’t for you and my parents—we’d all be in trouble. And on that note, thank you, Max.”

Max felt his face redden. He stopped at a table of small souvenirs and browsed through key chains and tidy rows of miniature terracotta soldiers until the shop owner came flapping out of the door, ready to make a deal. Max moved on, Mari right behind him. “You’re welcome, Mari. It’s nothing, really. I’m glad to help.”

They went around a small bend in the street and Max saw the giant teapot sitting precariously on the rooftop of the China shop, beckoning in shoppers to browse the thousands of porcelain bowls, plates, and exquisite tea sets. He stopped and pointed. “So there it is. And if Mei’s drawing is really accurate to her memories, then her grandfather’s shop should be somewhere within view of that teapot.”

They both turned first one way, then the other, visibly scouring the many shops on both sides of the streets.

“I don’t see a clock shop,” Mari said.

“And I don’t see a fruit stand.” Max sighed. It wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped. Shops changed hands all the time. People came and went. Who knew—the grandfather could’ve died or even shut down his business in the last few months. But it was their only hope to find Mei’s family, so they had to keep looking.

“Come on. It’s going to be a long day.” He plucked one of the photos from his pocket and handed it to Mari. “You start on that side of the street, and I’ll start on this side. Ask everyone you can about the shop and if they know Mei. Someone here has to know something.”

Three hours later, Mari felt as though her feet were on fire. They’d walked up and down the street several times, even a few side roads, showing the photo of Mei until Mari’s throat was dry and parched. She finally caught Max’s attention from across the street and waved him over.

He waited on a lull in the traffic of electric bikes and pedestrians, then took a chair opposite her at the small bistro table she’d snagged.

“I’m beat,” she said.

Max waved a waitress over and told her to bring two cold Cokes. The waitress nodded and scurried away.

“Me too,” Max agreed.

“Has anyone at all recognized Mei or known of an antique clock shop?”