Cross Currents (8 page)

“Don't sell yourself sh—”

“It's okay. I know what I can do and what I can't do.”

“What did you do in high school? What did he do?”

“In high school? I was the star athlete, the perfect student. I worked really hard . . . but I wasn't really happy. On the other hand, Patch hardly worked at all but was happy. He got the girls. He was the cool brother. I'd tag along with him and his girlfriends and feel like the biggest loser on the planet.”

“You couldn't be farther from a loser. And you can make women laugh. You've made me laugh.”

“I'd like to make you laugh more.”

She studied his face, wondering whether she could kiss him in public. “I want to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why . . . why have we never said the word
love
to each other? We're here in Thailand. We've traveled so far together and we have a history together. But there's a lot we've never said. And that makes me wonder . . . about us.”

He turned slightly away from her. “People use that word . . . those four letters . . . way too easily.”

“Have you ever used it?”

“No. Not like that.”

“But could you? Someday? Can you imagine using it with me?”

“I don't know. Really, I'd rather focus on Patch right now than talk about us.”

“You sound like a politician, evading my question, acting obtuse.”

Ryan turned back toward her, reaching for her hands. “I look after you. I care about you.”

“I don't want to be looked after.”

“Sorry. That came out wrong. That was . . . condescending. But I want to help. It's what—”

“Is it because of what happened to me?” she asked, her voice speeding up, moving like the boat. “Because I have baggage?”

His fingers tightened around hers. “Everyone has baggage.”

“You don't.”

“Can you just be patient? Please?”

“Patient? You're about the most impatient person I've ever met. You've got the fastest computer, the fastest feet, the fastest boat.” You're even impatient in bed, she thought, though she would never say such a thing.

He sighed, removing his sunglasses. “Let's save my brother, all right? Can we do that? Let's do that and then worry about four-letter words.”

Flying fish started to leap near the bow of the boat, hopping across the water like skipping stones. Brooke watched them, sitting straighter in her chair, aware that she was acting self-indulgent and chastising herself for it. “There's nothing more important than your brother,” she said. “Not even overused four-letter words.”

“That's right.”

“But how are we going to save him? Really, if he doesn't want to turn himself in, how are you going to help him?”

Ryan put his sunglasses back on, admiring the speed of the flying fish. “He doesn't have a choice. We just have to make him realize that. The sooner he turns himself in, the sooner he can get on with his life.”

“And a Thai jail should be a part of his life?”

“It'll have to be. Because there's no other choice.”

“He could—”

“No, Brooke. He couldn't. He's not going to escape in some old boat to India. That's insane. For once he's going to do what he has to do.”

“And you're going to convince him?”

“We're going to convince him.”

She nodded, shifting her gaze toward a group of distant islands on the horizon. The green clumps seemed to rise almost vertically out of the sea, serene and secluded. Good places to hide, she thought, then wondered if she'd do what Ryan wanted.

AS SHE DID MOST EVERY day, Yai sat in the shallows, washing Achara's naked body. Yai wore shorts, a T-shirt, and a cap. She had never owned a swimsuit; nor had she ever wanted one. Staring toward deeper water, she watched a pair of topless foreign women who stood facing the beach. Even though Yai had seen thousands of such women, she could never get comfortable with the sight of so much skin. The display seemed boastful, and Yai wished that her grandchildren hadn't seen so many naked breasts. Surely the experience would do them more harm than good. Breasts weren't created for men, she thought, but for babies. Men had enough toys already without breasts bouncing around in front of them.

“Don't you look over there,” Yai whispered to Achara, washing her privates, turning her away from the women. “That hot sun has baked their brains. Not that they had much to start with, but they've got even less now. You'll never swim like that. Never.” Yai began cleaning Achara's bottom, wiping and splashing. “Yes, it's true, some Thai girls wear swimsuits these days, but not my little Achara. You'll wear shorts and a shirt. And you won't let men see your body like it's some sort of advertisement for . . . Oh, never mind.”

Achara burped, causing Yai to smile.

“You agree?” Yai asked, scrubbing Achara's feet. “I knew you would. You always agree with me. That's one of the many, many reasons I love you so much. Here, do you want to practice standing? This is a good place to do it.” Yai lifted Achara upright, setting her feet on the sandy bottom while continuing to support her. “See? You can do it. But I tell you, sometimes it's fun to sit too. Your shadow might not be as tall when you sit, but it's so much wider. It'll keep you cool from the sun.”

Leaning forward, Achara sagged against Yai's hands. Yai bent down and blew on the back of Achara's neck, prompting a toothless smile. “Let me see that belly of yours,” Yai said, lifting Achara up, blowing against her stomach, laughing at Achara's grin. “Feeling better now? Is your gas gone? Your mother's still eating too many peppers. I've tried, tried like we talked about, to get her to stop, but since when does she ever listen to me? Oh, don't follow in your mother's footsteps, Achara. She's got the strength of ten men. Not that ten men are so impressive, but these days your mother can be overwhelming. She works too hard. Of course, she needs to cook and clean, which is actually good for us, because I get to spend so much time with you. I'm a lucky woman.”

Yai heard Suchin's voice and turned toward Rainbow Resort. Suchin was running along the beach, giggling, pursued by her little brother. He didn't look pleased, which made Yai smile. “Go get her, Niran,” she said softly. “But don't kick sand on the tourists, or your mother won't be happy. And you'd better sell some more drinks.”

Niran stopped chasing Suchin, who had darted between two bungalows. He walked to the water and sat in the shallows. Yai lifted Achara's hand and waved. Niran shook his head, apparently angry at Suchin, but finally, after hitting the water, he waved back. Yai motioned for him to join her, and he stood up and waded toward her. Watching him move through the turquoise water, with the coconut trees behind him, Yai thought of her good fortune and thanked Buddha, as she often did, for her many blessings.

“What did your sassy sister do?” she asked, as Niran approached.

“A man gave her a piece of candy and she didn't tell me about it until she'd eaten it! So I tried to get her back. But she ran and ran and ran and was laughing the whole time!”

“Here, sit by me. Keep your old grandmother company.”

“She should have shared it,” he replied, dropping to his knees beside her.

“Yes, she should have. But we all make mistakes. I gave birth to your mother, didn't I?”

“Suchin makes the most. Much more than me.”

Yai set Achara on her lap. “Didn't she catch you that glass shrimp the other day?”

“That was three days ago.”

“But isn't the shrimp in your tank today? Weren't you watching it this morning?”

Niran scratched at a mosquito bite on his elbow. “It's almost invisible, except for its stomach and eyes.”

“Would you rather have the piece of candy, or the shrimp?”

“The . . . the shrimp.”

“So why don't you consider the candy your return gift to her? Tell her that it was your gift. And every morning, when you see that invisible shrimp, remember how she gave it to you.”

Still scratching, Niran nodded. “Yai?”

“Yes, child?”

“This morning, I heard Mother and Father whispering. They were talking about moving to Bangkok.”

“They were?”

“We won't have to move to Bangkok, will we? I won't be able to catch crabs and fish if we live there. And how will I ever be a scientist?”

Yai looked toward the restaurant, certain that Sarai was cleaning up from lunch. “No, we won't ever move to Bangkok. Your parents must have had too much sun.”

“But why were they talking about it?”

Yai put Achara against her chest, giving herself time to think. “Well, when you look at your tank, don't you consider which kind of rock or shell will be best for your pets? You don't just throw the first rock you see in there. And your mother and father, they're just considering all the choices. And one of those choices is Bangkok.”

“It's a bad choice.”

“I agree. And that's why I'm sure they won't make it. Your mother's too smart. And your father moves with too much care.”

“Except when he fell.”

“That's right. Except when he fell. But otherwise he hasn't missed a step. And don't forget about me. You think an old woman like me could survive a move to Bangkok? Better to just set me adrift here. Let my big belly act as a sail and push me out to sea.”

Niran smiled. “Maybe we could drift together.”

“You're too skinny. The wind would only tug at your nose.”

“I could make a sail and put it on my chest.”

Yai leaned toward him, resting her free hand on his knee. “It's a deal, then. If your parents lose what little sanity they possess and decide to move to Bangkok, we'll just swim out and set sail. You and me. And we'll bring some candy. As much candy as we can carry.”

Picking up a handful of sand, Niran turned it over underwater, watching it billow outward. “I should go back. It's so hot. I bet everyone's thirsty for a Fanta.”

“Good luck,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She watched him depart, loving the sight of his small body and the thought of his wanting to sail away with her. She thanked Buddha for her gifts again, then turned her attention to Achara, kissing her forehead and smiling at the beauty of her dark eyes.

USING AN OLD TROWEL, PATCH carefully smoothed out the layer of sand that he'd poured on the path. He worked on the area in front of him, leveling it perfectly. Satisfied, he picked up a brown brick and set it on the sand, aligning it next to a brick he had placed earlier. The bricks were thick and strong enough to support the baggage carts used by porters to transport backpacks and supplies from their pier.

Turning around, Patch eyed the ten feet or so of the path that he'd finished. The surface was level and uniform, and even when he'd jumped on the tightly packed bricks, they hadn't moved. He was certain that the path would remain useful for many years and was pleased by the notion of improving Rainbow Resort. Lek would be delighted, he was sure. As would Sarai, because until now any sort of rain meant that her guests would track mud and sand into the restaurant and bungalows. The paved path would make such messes a thing of the past.

After placing another brick on the sand, Patch looked back toward the village, wondering when Ryan would arrive. Though he knew that they would argue about his future, he was increasingly excited to see his brother. Their paths hadn't crossed in more than seven months, and only now, with Ryan so close, did Patch realize how much he had missed him. They'd been best friends for so many years—playing sports together, being bunk mates at camp, riding their bicycles around their cul-de-sac. Ryan had always been there when Patch needed him. And Ryan would be there again, only this time he wouldn't be standing up for Patch against some bully or showing him how to throw a football. He'd be telling him to turn himself over to the American embassy, to imprison himself in a Thai jail.