A Thread Unbroken (16 page)

“Well, these after-childbirth rules are downright crazy, if you ask me,” Chai responded, rolling her eyes. “And your midwife has ordered us to make
zhu jiao jiang
tonight!”

Mother managed a small smile. “Pigs’ feet with ginger and vinegar sounds delicious to me. Chai, I’ve missed your spunk in the last few days. You might be a thorn in my side, but you’re also an unexpected breath of relief from the constant boredom of this fishing life.”

Chai grinned and continued to neaten the bed around the woman. The truth be told, she found the childbirth traditions fascinating. In their village, it was such a sacred yet secretive time after the mothers gave birth that Chai really never knew what went on during their forced seclusion. At least now her curiosity was being appeased.

She turned to see Mother’s eyes scan the room and watched as her smile disappeared, making the woman look somber again.

“Where is she?”

“Who? Josi?” Chai asked her.

“No. You know who I mean.”

Then Chai understood. The woman couldn’t even bear to call the infant
her
child. “Josi has her; she’s taking a bottle.” The girls took turns feeding her, both of them loving the interaction with the sweet-natured infant.

“You mean she can eat?” Mother asked weakly.

“Yes. It takes some extra time and patience, but she has a healthy appetite. She eats like a greedy little piglet. We got her some soy milk from the mainland, and a bottle. And we named her, too.”

“Don’t tell me.” The woman gave a long and tortured sigh. “Can you bring her to me?”

Chai got up and crossed the room, opened the door, and went into the living room. Josi was the picture of motherhood with the baby in her arms and the little boys gathered at her feet playing with their toys. Zee was looking around, content to be held and unaware that, so far, her own parents had not claimed her. Chai stopped in front of them.

“She wants her.”

Josi’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “She
wants
her?”

“Well, for the moment. Here, let me take her.” She took her from Josi’s arms and carried her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with her foot. She brought the baby to the bed and laid her in the crook of her mother’s arms, wary but relieved that perhaps the woman had found a change of heart.

Mother stared down at the baby girl, her eyes filling with tears. “Why did she have to be born like this? He might have let me keep this one.” She traced the baby’s jawline, then her
eyebrows. When Zee locked eyes with her and turned the corner of her mouth up, Mother smiled back and then reached over and took Chai’s hand. “She looks just like Tao.”

“Ha. I told him that. He thinks she’s cute, too. But Bo won’t even look at her; he’s too afraid his father will see him show an ounce of compassion. You know, you need to stand up to Lao Chan. Tell him he needs to accept his daughter.”

Mother didn’t respond to that. Chai wasn’t surprised. She knew Mother wouldn’t speak against her husband or her sons for any wrongdoing. She was much too old-fashioned and didn’t realize she had a voice, too.

“Chai, there have been others.” Mother spoke the words in such a low, quiet voice, it was almost inaudible.

“What do you mean,
others
?” Chai pulled her hand back, horrified by what the woman’s words brought to mind.

“I will only say this. Please do not let the old woman take her away. Enough is enough, and this one should be allowed to live out her destiny. I know you are strong. You will find a place for her, and then come back. Tell Zhongfu you laid her to rest yourself. He will not ask where. He will never ask about her again; this I know for sure. Do this for me, Chai. Please.”

Mother did her best to lift the baby up to Chai, holding her there until she had no choice but to take her.

“What do you want me to do with her?” Chai couldn’t believe the woman was going to brave her husband’s wrath by concocting such a story.

“I don’t know, and I do not want to know later. But you must do this before my mother-in-law comes, or she will take her, and this one will be no more. That is all. I am tired.” Mother turned her face toward the wall and closed her eyes.

Despite the woman’s efforts to hide her face, Chai saw a tear escape and make a trail down the woman’s cheek. She turned to leave with the baby, and she sighed as Zee struggled to turn her tiny head toward her mother, almost as if to get one last look for their final good-bye.

C
hai swaddled Zee in the towel and put her down in the bottom of the big fishing basket. She smiled when she saw that Josi had layered it with one of Tao’s red-checkered shirts. Josi was such a little mommy, always thinking of ways to bring comfort to others. Mother didn’t realize what a gem she had taking care of her children.

Chai was so tired. She and Josi had stayed up all night, discussing options until they had both agreed on the destination for the baby girl. Their plan was for Josi to stay with the boys while Chai took the baby to the mainland.

“Chai, I don’t want to say good-bye to her.”

“Then don’t, Josi. If it works out the way I hope, we can sneak away to see her once in a while. But we have to get her out of here before that old hag returns, or Lao Chan’s mother comes and something terrible happens.” Chai carried the basket outside and set it down. She took off her slippers and pulled on Mother’s water boots. They never had gotten their own shoes back, and so far they had not been given new shoes of their own, as Lao Chan thought they had no need of ever being off of the floating house. He’d have a fit if he found out that Chai had already
made a few trips to explore the mainland—all during Mother’s extended naps.

“Are you sure they’ll take care of her? What if they don’t know how to care for a baby with her problem?”

“I’ll explain it to them, Josi. Don’t worry.”

“Will you tell them not to squeeze milk into her mouth too fast, or she’ll get choked?”

“Yes, I’ll tell them.” Chai picked up the basket and set it down in the bottom of the sampan. She settled herself on the bench and grabbed the oars. “Untie us, Josi. I need to hurry before the men return and find me gone.”

Josi handed her the bag of milk and bottles. “Okay, but lift the edge of the basket and let me see her one more time. Please.”

Chai lifted the wicker flap and Zee peered up at them, her dark eyes sparkling. She was such a happy baby. Both Chai and Josi had fallen head over heels in love with her.

“
Zai jian
, Zee. I hope I’ll see you soon.
Wo ai ni
,” Josi whispered her love to the child. She untied the boat and stood back.

“She’ll be fine, Josi. I gotta go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Chai closed the basket and reached up to pull the scarf over her head and tie it under her chin. She didn’t want any of the neighbors to know who she was. She looked around and then began moving the oars to back away from their house.

“Tell them she doesn’t like her milk too hot!” With one last wave at the fading boat, Josi went back into the house.

Chai watched her go as she paddled backward. She knew Josi planned to bribe the boys to go to sleep so that she could have some time to herself for a bath.

Chai shook her head—Josi was going to have to hurry if she was going to bathe, wash her hair, and have it dry before it was time to start preparing dinner. Chai felt sorry for her. Josi’s
monthly had come for the first time and she knew she felt dirty, but they couldn’t bathe with the men at home. Even though they only used a bucket of soapy water, they still needed to undress, and their door could not be locked from the inside. They knew they could trust Tao, but Lao Chan and Bo were unpredictable.

Chai hoped Josi wouldn’t obsess over the journey to find Zee a new home. They were going to miss the baby girl—Zee had been the one bright spot in their dark days.

As Chai methodically rowed the boat, she thought about the new strangeness of her life. Just over a year before, she had been a child, living a child’s existence. Now she felt far older than her years, having lived through a kidnapping and made to be the caretaker of a family she wasn’t a part of, working her fingers to the bone to make them comfortable every day.
It could be worse
, she thought. At least she had Josi, and so far Lao Chan had not made good on any of his threats of beating them or throwing them to the depths of the sea.

If he ever found out that she was the one responsible for the sudden mishaps around the house, he’d skin her alive. Chai grinned as she thought of his yell of indignation the morning he woke to find all his bait buckets knocked over during the night, or the morning he put his boots on, only to be pinched on the toe by a tiny crab stuffed down deep inside. He even thought it was simply bad luck when his fishing boat was found drifting off into the bay one morning; he was sure he had tied it up, and he was right. It just hadn’t stayed tied up once Chai had snuck out during the night after begging Tao to leave her door unlocked from the outside.

The family had become quite comfortable ordering her and Josi around, but now they had grown confident that the girls wouldn’t try to run so were granting them more freedom.

Chai snorted to herself. Mother thought she had given up the yearning to go home, but she didn’t know Chai and how stubborn she could be. She
would
get home, someday and somehow. And that night, Chai had a special trick planned for old Chan. She planned to take his favorite Sunday trousers in a few inches at the waistline. She couldn’t wait until that weekend, when he attempted to wear them and discovered he had gotten a lot fatter in the last seven days. If she could find the time, she even planned to take an inch off the legs. Then he’d think he was not only fatter but taller, too. It might mean an hour or so of sewing for her, but she and Josi would laugh over the results for days, so it was well worth her time.

Chai rowed faster and was soon at the main pier. She tied the boat and then reached for the basket. Zee had not made a peep, so Chai had not taken the time to look at her during the trip. She lifted the flap and saw the baby was sound asleep, probably from the motion of the water. Chai reached over the side of the boat to set the basket and the bag of supplies on the pier then climbed out to stand beside them.

On the other side of the pier was a man tying off his own boat, but he paid Chai no mind as he began unloading his crates of crab and setting them on the weathered wood.

Pulling her scarf lower over her face, she picked up her precious cargo and followed the dock to land. Jumping off, she quickly began the climb up the steep hill to the huge church.

A
s Chai got closer to the church, she heard a chorus of wailing. Perplexed by the eerie sound, she hurried up the winding path.

At the gate, Chai stopped when she saw a procession of children and adults wearing white following four nuns carrying a short wooden box. All expressions were sad, and the song they sang—and some hummed—sounded so mournful. Bringing up the rear were a few more nuns, and one of them did a double take as she passed Chai. She dropped behind the procession and turned to backtrack until she was standing in front of the girl.

“Sister Haihua, what is this? Why are all these people crying?”

“
Ni hao
, Chai. It’s nice to see you again, friend. But your visit falls on a sad day. One of the children has died. We are marking her passing.”

“Whose child is it?”

“Why, she’s God’s child. It doesn’t matter who her parents were. All children are a gift, and if they come to us, we love them until they are sent off into the world, or in Ping’s case, until they leave the world.”

“What was wrong with her?”

The woman placed her arm around Chai’s shoulders. “Nothing was
wrong
with her, Chai. Everything was just right. But she was born with a weak heart, so she was called home early. Now she’s rejoicing in her new body in a wonderful place.”

Chai looked down at the basket, suddenly uncertain about the decision she’d made the night before, and completely bewildered at the explanation of the child’s death and new home. She had never been taught religion—the most she knew was to burn candles for her ancestors a few times a year—and all the god talk made her extremely nervous.

“What do you have there?” Sister Haihua looked down at the basket. “It must contain something important, for you are cradling it so protectively.”

“Um, can we go inside?” Chai looked at the procession again as it moved closer to the church.

“Of course. I need to attend the memorial, but I tell you what, I’ll settle you in the courtyard, and you can wait for me there. I won’t be long. Come on; follow me.”

Sister Haihua led Chai around the side of the church and along a cobblestone path until they entered a courtyard surrounded by a short stone wall. In the middle of the enclosure, Chai’s eyes were drawn to a huge marble fountain—empty, chipped, and scarred now, but in its day, it was probably quite the masterpiece.

In a corner, under the protection of a group of huge willow trees, sat four elderly women, all in wheelchairs, facing each other. Each held a corner of a wide blanket with one hand, while their other hands worked to stuff it with padding.