The Geomancer's Compass (26 page)

The Grandfather is practicing
tai chi
, I thought. What I said was, “The beginning of the end, Mom. Only this time it's going to be a happy ending. You'll have to call the car rental place … let them know we'll be returning the car in Vancouver. We should be home” – I consulted the GPS's readout on the instrument panel – “in about eighteen hours, around five p.m. tomorrow if rush hour isn't too bad. The Grandfather said you would know what to do –”

“I do,” she cut me off. “We've been ready for this for years, darling. Your grandmother and me. I know just what to do.” There was a pause. “I am so proud of you … so proud of both of you.” Her voice broke. “And so very grateful.”

“Please, Mom,” I begged. “Don't cry.”

“You tell your cousin to drive safely,” she said.

“He doesn't have a choice,” I replied. “Speed lock.”

“Thank goodness for that. Well, good night then. I love you.”

Dad chimed in, “I love you too, but that doesn't mean you're not going to be punished for staying out late!”

“Right, Dad. I love you. Bye.” I hung up, blinking back tears. “Did you hear that?” I asked Brian. “And Liam needs the nebulizer mask to breathe. He has for years. What's going on?”

“Things are happening, I guess,” said Brian. “Forces are at work. The curse may not be good and lifted until Qianfu's bones are laid to rest in the cemetery, but in the meantime …” He grinned, then he frowned. “I just wish we could have saved my mom and dad.”

“Me too.” I gave his arm a squeeze.

We drove on in silence for a quarter of an hour before a green mileage sign swam into view. Swift Current, Medicine Hat, Calgary.

“So I'm going to be the geomancer in the family!” Brian savored the idea, patting the cherrywood box in his vest pocket. “Me … not you. Me.”

“Give it a rest,” I told him. “You'll wear it out.”

“Not likely,” he replied. “I'm going to be pretty powerful, you know. You might want to be nice to me.”

“I
am
nice to you,” I retorted.

“
Nicer
,” he said. “Remember, I was going to save you from a shark.”

“You were going to
try
and save me from a shark … and fail!”

“It's the thought that counts. A geomancer, eh? A geomancer!”

“It's going to be a long trip,” I muttered. I settled back into my seat, folded my arms over my chest, and was about to close my eyes when Brian punched me in the arm.

“Ouch!”

“You know what, Randi?”

“What?”

He beamed at me. “This is going to be the best road trip ever! Can we stop for chips? Please! Please! I'm starving.”

I would like to thank the Ontario Arts Council for its ongoing support, my brother Peter Hardy, and my sister Pamela Rooks for their insightful critiques of early versions of this manuscript, and my agents Bill and Frances Hanna for all their hard work on my behalf. There are many reasons I wish Frances might have lived longer; one of them would have been so that she could see the fruits of her labors over many years. And, as always, thanks to my husband, Ken, who makes all things possible, including dogs.