Reclaiming Lily (5 page)

“How can we be sure this is necessary?” Gloria rose from her seat, shoving away her husband’s hand, his spluttering protestations. “You appear out of nowhere with this . . . emergency.” Her eyes were veiled with . . . dislike? Fear? “Carl—Fort Worth’s best internist, I might add—thinks Joy has a nervous stomach. No one’s mentioned this . . . poly . . . whatever it is. How do we know you are not using this . . .”

“PKD,” Kai supplied.

“. . . PKD . . . to worm your way into Joy’s life?”

“I do not worm my way in, Mrs. Powell. I have been prepared for this all my life.”

“Prepared? What do you mean?”

Papers swished to the floor. The carpet’s reds, whites, and blues blurred, as did Kai’s vision. How dare this soft American woman question a calling the fates revealed at age five? She would not stand for it. No, she had come too far and accomplished too much to be treated this way. Did not Lily’s well-being—perhaps Lily’s life—hang on the hope that she could convince these people of her motives, concern, and love?

As she reclaimed the scattered papers, she begged fate to reveal words that would resonate in the hearts of these Texans. She would tell them as much as they—and she—could handle, starting from the beginning.

2

A
N
E
ASTERN
C
HINA VILLAGE, 1967

Five-year-old Kai dashed down an alleyway past neighbor children. Ripening plums perfumed the air with a sweet wine smell. Birds twittered a glorious song. Gentleman Dog growled and chased his tail. Kai’s jubilation over Spring Festival threatened to send her airborne, like the kites children released to the winds before sunset. When Father’s school gates closed, the two of them would crisscross the field and let their royal red kite rule mountains, birds . . . even puffy white clouds. But first she must purchase new twine.

Peasants in their rough cotton shirts and pants shuffled by, kicking up dust. Two men grumbled and conked each other in the head with bamboo poles.

“Silly little fool,” one mumbled, as if Kai were to blame for their bad moods.

“What do you expect from the spoiled child of intellectuals?”

The men afflicted with jealousy’s green-skinned disease spat on the ground and glared at her as if their tobacco-stained phlegm belonged on her face. Kai flinched and then puffed out her chest. She would not let the peasants’ poor feng shui dim the bright light that was her family’s successful wooing of fate, especially during this glorious season. Despite her thoughts, she bowed at the men in the customary way. She was Chang Kai, Second Daughter. To retaliate against villagers who wished her evil might upset life’s delicate balance.

Kai reached in her pocket, where she had stashed the last bit of old kite twine and a knife, whose ivory smoothness soothed the men’s harsh words. Buoyed by a west wind, she streaked past the workers to the dusty main street of their village. Fluttering crimson-and-gold animal lanterns hung from warped rafters of the store. She hopped up uneven steps to say hello, first to the bulging-eyed frog lantern. Silly thing! Then an elephant lantern waved his trunk and begged a pretend peanut, trumpeting thanks when she flattened her palm to feed it. Saving best for last, she tiptoed to the fire-breather lantern, her very own zodiac symbol, with such splendor in his forked tongue and scaly tail! Pride stretched her legs to reach his shiny crimson back. Up, up—

Chee, chee
.

What sound tickled her ears? Had a strange bird coasted on the wind current to attend the festival? She jumped off the porch, threw back her head, and searched a blue sky. Lazy clouds floated by, but no bird.

Chee, chee
.

Kai stepped into grass, tilted her head, and peered into a tree. A mother bird flapped into a nest and settled wings about bald chicks whose beaks were closed. Silent.

Chee, chee.

Kai pricked her ears to follow the sound, scrambled onto her hands and knees, and crawled to a flowering jasmine.

The bush shuddered. Out popped a tiny creature, plucked-chicken pink. Beady eyes studied her. Wings flapped like broken fans.

Kai clapped her hands and cooed. What a funny-looking thing!

The chick staggered forward and crashed into a gnarly branch.
“Chee, chee.”

“Chee, chee,” Kai whispered. “Greetings, little one.”

Silent, the chick stared back, lifted one foot, and toppled over.

Had spring intoxicated the chick? Kai spied an angry red knot on the chick’s leg joint. Below the knot, the leg bent like a discarded pipe cleaner. Useless for walking. Flying. Living.

Poor thing! As Kai reached for the chick, her right hand radiated heat to match her sympathy-warmed heart. Fate had cursed this chick! She must try to repair its poor crooked leg. Old Grandfather had taught her to mend broken chairs. Was the principle not similar? “Chee, chee,” she whispered, and scooped up the chick.

The bird struggled, then lay still . . . except for a
thump, thump
against Kai’s fingers.
Thump. Thump
. Such a strong little heart! Kai tingled with pleasure. A coo escaped her mouth. She had found the chick’s life rhythms!

“Chee, chee.” Speaking the chick’s language, Kai folded her legs underneath her and sat on the ground. “Be still, little one.” Kai balanced the chick between her knees and dug in her pocket for the knife and string. Moving slowly, so as not to scare the chick, she slashed the string in two. Her fingers tickled the grass and inched caterpillar-like to a stick. Still whispering, “Chee, chee,” she stripped bark from the stick and made a splint for her little friend.

Except for its heartbeat, the chick was silent.

Kai scooped up the chick, used her pulsating right hand to straighten the bent leg against the splint, then looped string round and round until the splint and the leg became one. The chick never struggled, as if it understood exactly what Kai was doing.

“Chee, chee,”
the chick said in thanks.

Kai transferred the chick into her left hand and spread the fingers of her right hand, half expecting to see steam rising as from a boiling pot. She opened her hand, closed it. Opened it, closed it.

Warmth spread to the funny looped ridges on the back of her fingers that Old Grandfather said made her hand different from everyone else’s. The warmth soothed like the
kang
bed on a winter night. Mesmerized, she stretched her fingers and studied her hand’s every pore, every crease.

Of its own accord, the right hand moved to massage the chick’s fluffy breast.

Thump. Thump. Thump
.

The chick’s heartbeats matched the heat pulsating through Kai’s hand. The hand was magic! Kai, Second Daughter of the Chang family, possessed a Healing Right Hand that somehow connected with hurt creatures!

Kai’s heart pattered in a wild rhythm. If the fates allowed, this tiny creature could now hop. Dared she hope it might one day soar high as the festival kites? She stroked the chick’s breast in thanks for such a momentous Spring Festival beginning. Perhaps she could help other birds! Oh, never had she dreamed of such a connection with the creatures that she loved! She must tell Old Grandfather! She must—

“What are you doing?” A shrill voice shattered the magic.

Old Ling has found us
.

The cranky wife of the shop owner always tottered away on swollen stubs of feet and refused to wait on the Chang daughters. Old Ling had hated Kai since her first moon. Though Kai had asked Mother why, Mother never responded.

“Stupid girl!” Old Ling plunked down the shop steps. Her jaw gaped to expose the black holes and yellow crags of a filthy cave mouth. She shook a broom at Kai. Bits of straw and mouse dung fluttered in the air. “Why waste time on such frivolity?”

Kai cupped her hand about her new feathered friend to shield it from Old Ling’s poor feng shui.

“Why do you not cook and scrub and weed?” Again Old Ling swung the broom, barely missing Kai’s head. “And you, devil bird!” Curse words and spit soiled the air. “We should have finished you off when we had the chance! Both of you, scoot!”

Kai wobbled to her feet, the chick still in her hands. She pigeon-toed away from Old Ling. The shop door slammed. Old Ling and her ill temper disappeared, though her strange words lingered.

Kai tiptoed to the chick’s nest home. “You will grow strong, little friend.” She settled the chick by its brothers and sisters and tried to ignore the flapping and cawing mother trembling a nearby limb. “Good-bye for now.”

Thank-you cheeps streamed from the nest.

Wind gusts caught Kai’s bubbling laughter and spun it into music. The frog lantern croaked, the elephant lantern trumpeted, the dragon lantern snorted fire. Kai sprinted for home. The alleyways blurred into browns, greens, and slivers of red. Barks, meows, grunts, and mumbles rose from the yards. Animal creatures, all cheering for the work of her healing hand!

When Kai’s heart threatened to explode within her chest, she slowed to a walk. Her heart stopped its punishment, but a question hammered her mind.

She entered her house, which was fragrant with the aroma of garlic and tea.

“Hello, Second Daughter.” Wiping her hands on her apron, Mother turned from a simmering pot. Mother balanced cooking, lesson-preparing, and caring for Third Daughter on her shapely shoulders. What harmony she brought to their home! “The Party has called a special meeting,” Mother continued. “There will be no kite-flying.”

Kites? Because of her adventure with the bird, Kai had forgotten to buy kite twine, had forgotten about kite-flying with Father. She had
not
forgotten Old Ling’s strange, hate-tinged words. She held out her arm, as if guiding a kite, but fixed her eyes on the Healing Right Hand. “Old Grandfather?”

Old Grandfather nodded and puffed his pipe. Smoke ringed his head and drifted to his rounded belly.

Kai beamed. What honor Old Grandfather brought their family! Could she bring honor, too, with her discovery of a most unusual gift?

Musty tobacco leaves joined kitchen scents and obliterated the last of Old Ling’s sourness. “Mother! Old Grandfather!” Kai waved her arm. “I have a magic right hand!”

Mother frowned. “If it is so magic, have it assemble these dumplings.”

“Daughter, let the little one be. She will work soon enough.” Old Grandfather patted his knees, held out his arms.

Mother, usually so cheerful, picked up her pot and huffed to the courtyard, most likely to let the stuffing mixture cool.

Ignoring Mother, Kai shrieked. To be coddled by Old Grandfather, a thing rarely allowed? The right hand had brought not only magic, but good fortune. She would ask Old Grandfather the question flapping about in her mind. She eased into Old Grandfather’s lap, mindful of his fragile bones.

“Tell me, Second Daughter, what has put dragon fire in your eyes?”

Kai breathed Old Grandfather’s cornstarch-and-smoke smell. “I met a baby bird. With a hurt leg.” As she talked, she spread her fingers to show what she had done, then had to poke Old Grandfather twice to open his heavy eyelids. How could a storyteller like Old Grandfather drift away as she recounted such adventure . . . and before her question?

“Old Grandfather!” She raised her voice, clapped her hands.

Life stirred between the folds and creases surrounding his marble eyes.

Kai sat straight, determined to ask the question before Old Grandfather again left for the dream world.

“Old Ling cursed my bird friend. Why?” Questions made Kai rustle about. “She spoke of old days. What did she mean by ‘finishing off’ birds?”

Her questions hovered in the air, though Kai begged them to vanish since they sagged and shadowed Old Grandfather’s seventy-year-old eyelids.

The questions refused to leave. They were stubborn things, just like her.

Pale lips gripped the pipe. Smoke puffs encircled Old Grandfather’s nose. “In famine years, Chairman Mao decreed that sparrows gobbled up our crops. A campaign was launched to exterminate the wasteful creatures.”

“Exterminate?” Kai’s teeth chattered at such an awful-sounding word.

“Rock-hurling peasants stormed the fields. Teachers ordered students to beat washbasins, clang pot lids.”

“Why?”

“To disturb the birds’ feng shui.”

“Just to . . . scare them away?”

Old Grandfather puffed his pipe and shook his head.

Her hand swelled as if ten hornets had attacked. “To . . . kill them?”

Old Grandfather did not say a word. He did not need to.

Chills zipped along Kai’s spine. “Our village? They did this here in our village?”

Smoke seeped from Old Grandfather’s mouth as he slowly nodded.

“No!” Kai’s heart throbbed pain. She struggled out of Old Grandfather’s lap.

Though Old Grandfather’s lips moved, wings beat so violently against Kai’s heart that she could not hear him. The pipe smoke she had once loved swirled to choke her. Images of limp wings and bloodied feathers swooped in to join the attack.

Free from Old Grandfather’s lap, Kai tore out of the house, past Mother, still working in the courtyard, through the garden, and to the ladder that leaned against the shed. She had to join her feathered friends in their sky home and leave the horrid ground behind! Sobs shook her body. Who would hurl sticks and stones at innocent birds? Her bare toes curled about ladder rungs as she climbed toward a world where nature’s creatures achieved perfect harmony. Her fingers dug into splintery wood. Higher! Higher! With each step she left the nasty killing world of men.

Bird chatter began when she reached the top rung. Huffing, she collapsed onto the shed roof. “Chee, chee!” she cried as she wiped away her tears and pivoted enough to shove the ladder to the ground. “I, Chang Kai,” she shouted to the sparrows and gulls and bulbuls and ducks from her shed-top kingdom, “will never threaten your life.”

Shouts rose from the yard, but Kai paid them no mind. She twirled to create a wind that would block the low world’s sounds. “I, Chang Kai, will honor you as long as the fates allow!”