Stone, Katherine (2 page)

"Oh, no, Allison.
If
you go, you'll have to return
home as soon as possible. Hong Kong is very small, isn't it? You won't need to
be there for more than a couple of weeks."

"I'll need to be there until the hotel opens."

"Opens?
When will that be?"

"Everything in Hong Kong happens much more quickly than it
does here," Allison explained, recalling James's reply to her own surprise
that a hotel not yet under construction, and as grand as the Jade Palace, could
be completed in under seven months. Everything had to be accomplished faster in
Hong Kong, he'd told her. Its invisible clock was ticking relentlessly toward
destiny. "The groundbreaking isn't for two more weeks, but the hotel's
grand opening will be on New Year's Eve—my birthday."

"You're not going to be in Hong Kong for Christmas!"
Pauline exclaimed.

"Yes. I am." There'd been a little—but not much—apology
when James said that the finishing touches, including the display of her
photographs, would be done during the Christmas holidays. Ideally, he'd said,
she should oversee the placement. "I'm going to be in Hong Kong for
Christmas, but what I thought, what I hoped, was that we could spend the
holidays together. I've been looking into cruises. There's a terrific one that
sets sail in Tahiti on December fifth and docks in Hong Kong on the
twenty-fourth. The brochure's in my room."

The four grandparents, friends since before Allison's father was
born, shared a passion for cruising. They'd traveled everywhere—except, of
course, the Orient.

Hong Kong is
not
Vietnam, Allison wanted to cry again. Come
celebrate Christmas with me. Celebrate the Jade Palace, and my birthday. Put
your pain and your prejudice to rest.

Allison knew her grandparents wouldn't make any concessions today.
Indeed, until she'd actually boarded the plane, they'd hold fast to the belief
that she shouldn't go—and wouldn't go—and they'd be inexhaustible in their
efforts to convince her.

Such efforts had paid off in the past. Not wanting them to worry,
Allison had acceded to their wishes.

This time was different.

Still, in the renewed silence, Allison felt flutters of doubt.
Would
she yield to their wishes—because she loved them so deeply?

James had told her to call him anytime for any reason. She could
call him right now, confirm again that she
was
coming, and hear the
deep, elegant voice telling her once again how pleased he was that she'd agreed
to be part of his most important project.

Allison was tempted to dash to her bedroom and make that daring
call. But she was too well-bred to make such a precipitous exit, and loved them
too much to compound their worry by doing something so totally out of
character.

The silence might have lasted forever, and she might have
suffocated then and there, but she was rescued by the man— her father—who'd
been to Vietnam and whose losses had been, perhaps, the greatest of all.

With a single word Garrett could prevent Allison from going to
Hong Kong. If he opposed her plan, she'd remain in Dallas. She believed he
would side with her. He'd conquered his own fears before, allowing her life to
be as normal as possible.

It was Garrett who'd taught her how to ride a horse, drive a car,
pilot a plane.

Now it was he who spoke.

"I think it's time for Allison and me to go flying."

***

"When are you planning to leave?" Garrett asked when
they were high above the ground. He was at the controls, Allison beside him.
They'd done this hundreds of times, when he was teaching her to fly and after,
on days like this, when there were things to discuss.

"A week from today."

"Where will you stay?"

"At the Trade Winds. It's a Drake hotel. In addition to the
regular guest rooms, there are a number of residential apartments. That's what
I'll have. The Trade Winds is in Hong Kong's financial district and caters to
an international business clientele. It should be very nice—and very
safe."

"I'm sure it will be. But I wonder if you'll be lonely."

Perhaps, Allison admitted. But there was a difference between
being alone and being lonely, wasn't there? "I can call you, can't
I?"

"Of course you can." Garrett smiled. "Anytime. All
the time."

"I imagine I'll meet people."
I'll meet James.
The
thought came without warning and once born had a life of its own. James, who
was undoubtedly as sophisticated as his voice... and who was almost certainly
happily married... and who, even if he was single, was unlikely to waste his
valuable time on a hopelessly unsophisticated butterfly-to-be. Forcing back the
thought, Allison said, "Oh, I forgot to mention that the builder for the
Jade Palace will be Sam Coulter. He used to work for you, didn't he?"

"Yes. He did. I'm glad Sam will be in Hong Kong, Allison.
You'll like him."

Nothing in Garrett's tone suggested hidden layers of meaning. But
Allison knew her father well enough to deduce his protective reaction.

"I don't need a bodyguard, Dad! Besides, Sam's going to be
incredibly busy. Even though it's typical for everything to happen at a
breakneck pace in Hong Kong, going from ground-breaking to grand opening in a
little over six months seems impossible."

"If anyone can do it, it's Sam."

They fell silent, and for long moments father and daughter watched
the fading rays of sunlight over Texas—the same sunbeams that shone brightly on
a new day in Hong Kong.

Finally Allison asked, "Is this okay with you?"

"I get the impression it's something you need to do."

"It really is."

Allison's heart filled with love—and worry—for her father. He'd
devoted his life to her and to the memory of her mother, never finding a new
love, never even searching for one. To the world he seemed content, fulfilled.

But something compelled him to fly for hours, taking solitary
journeys into the clouds.

Something was missing from her father's life.

Allison feared it was happiness.

Maybe if I go to Hong Kong and prove I can do perfectly well on my
own, he'll try to find what's been missing all this time.

Her father hadn't yet said he approved of her plan, and as he
stared toward the horizon—toward Hong Kong—dark shadows crossed his face.

"Is there something about Hong Kong?" she asked.
"Something I don't know?"

Oh, yes, Garrett thought. There was something about Hong Kong—and
far different from what his parents and in-laws imagined. To them, Hong Kong
was where he'd been when tragedy struck. They blamed Hong Kong for keeping him
from them when they'd needed him so badly. They assumed he felt the same way.

He didn't. To him, Hong Kong was paradise.

"Have you been to Hong Kong, Dad?"

"Once, very briefly, a long time ago."

"And?"

"It was magical, Allison.
Magical."

"Then it's all right with you if I go?"

He would miss her, and worry about her, but how could he possibly
say no? Hong Kong was where he'd spent the happiest week of his life. "Of
course it's all right."

"And you'll come and visit?"

"We'll see," he answered vaguely. "I hope so."

Garrett couldn't promise he'd visit her in Hong Kong. There was
another promise, made long ago to Juliana—the woman he'd loved as no other. The
mother of his other daughter, Allison's half sister, the child of love he'd
left behind.

Aberdeen Harbour

Hong Kong Island

June 1960

She
wasn't Juliana Kwan then, nor did she speak flawless English, nor
was she at home on land. Then, at age thirteen, her Chinese name meant Tranquil
Sea, and Cantonese was her only language, and she'd never set foot on solid
ground.

She lived on
Pearl Moon,
her father's fishing junk, in the
floating city in Aberdeen Harbour. Only the men went ashore, and sometimes
merely near the shore, just close enough to sell the day's catch. The men sold
other goods, as well, piecework done by their wives and daughters while they,
with their sons, went to sea.

The women of Tranquil Sea's family adorned bolts of silk with
sequins and pearls. The beaded fabrics traveled from
Pearl Moon
to a
dress shop on Queen's Road West, on the other side of Hong Kong Island, in a
world none of them would ever see.

Tranquil Sea knew the island only from her vantage point in the
harbor. It looked immense—and formidable. Its jagged green peaks were home to
dragons. She had no idea how far the dress shop was, nor any concept of the
cosmopolitan city beyond the dragons, nor any expectation that she'd ever
journey there.

She did, however, have some idea of life beyond the water's edge.
From the deck of
Pearl Moon
she could see the fishing village of
Aberdeen and the cars and trucks on the harborside road. The cars brought
visitors from the other side of the island, wealthy men and women who
temporarily abandoned their Rolls-Royces to journey by sampan to the floating
restaurants, or to their pleasure-junks moored in the harbor's sheltered cove.

Tranquil Sea would never be part of life on shore. In a few years
a marriage would be arranged with the son of another fisherman, and once wed
she'd live with her husband's family. She'd give birth to boys who'd fish and
girls who'd clean the fish—and one day marry the sons of fishermen—and who,
like her, would never set foot on land. It had been that way for generations.
The community that lived on wooden boats amid salty waves disdained anything
else. If anyone dreamed of living ashore, it was a hidden dream, never spoken
aloud. To do so would have been a betrayal of tradition... and destiny.

Tranquil Sea wondered about life on land and even allowed herself
to imagine the world beyond the dragons. She felt guilty about her forbidden
imaginings. Yet the dreaming part of her was insistent, awakening a longing to
see where her sequined creations became romantic wedding gowns.

This is where I belong, she reminded herself when it was time for
the fantasies to slumber. I'm a child of the sea.

Tranquil Sea's life was one of great certainty—and greater
uncertainty. She'd always live on water, and would marry the man her parents
chose. But that predictable scenario was set against a precarious backdrop. The
floating city of teak was in constant peril of self-destruction. An overturned
oil lamp or a carelessly tended cooking fire could create an inferno of death
on the wooden boats. Fire was a man-made peril, but the greatest danger came
from waves made monstrous by raging winds.

Tranquil Sea heard stories of the great
tai'foos,
the winds
that killed thousands, but for the first thirteen years of her life Aberdeen
had been spared. Yes, there'd been storms. Ferocious ones. But they were
nothing, the adults told her, mere sighs compared to the huffs and puffs of a
true typhoon.

Her family believed Tranquil Sea herself was the reason Aberdeen
had been blessed. Her May first birth coincided with the birthday celebration
for Tin Hau, the Motherly Empress of Heaven and Goddess of the Sea. In honor of
their patron goddess, fishermen sailed in brightly colored flotillas to her
many seaside temples. There, amid sounding gongs and prancing paper dragons,
they lighted joss sticks and made offerings of pink dumplings and symbolic
money.

It was while her father, uncles and grandfather were paying homage
at Tin Hau's temple in Joss House Bay that Tranquil Sea was born. And that, her
family decided, cast a magical spell on the wind and waves of Aberdeen.

The magic came to a catastrophic end six weeks after Tranquil
Sea's thirteenth birthday. Was the spell destined to be shattered? Or had she
caused its ruin by displeasing Tin Hau with her fantasies of life on land?

Tranquil Sea's entire family perished before her eyes. The boats
that moments before felt so safe simply disintegrated. She was certain her
death would follow. She'd lived on water all her life but could not swim.
Swimming would have been quite futile, anyway, against the rage of waves. She
clung to a teak plank, all that remained of
Pearl Moon,
a scrap of wood
as foolishly defiant as she. She was torn apart by the loss of her every loved
one, but she couldn't let go—could not will her own death.

It would happen soon enough. In the minutes until she joined her
family beneath the sea, she'd keep their memory alive within her barely beating
heart.

***

She awakened on the beach at dawn. The sky was gold. The air was
calm. The sea was emerald glass. Last night's horror seemed a mirage, a phantom
of her imagination, a warning to a mind that strayed to fanciful longings of
forbidden worlds.

But as her eyes lifted from kelp-strewn sand to the harbor that
had been her home, she saw that last night had been neither mirage nor warning.
The place on the sea that had been her home, her universe, had vanished. No
junks bobbed on its smooth surface. No sampans sped jauntily from one cluster
of boats to the next. Everything was gone without a trace, swallowed whole.