“Smart man.”
Wu Fang ground out his cigarette and stood. Genie watched as he bent to throw another branch on the fire. Since he was keeping his back to her and Lieutenant Younan, she guessed he didn’t want any help.
She pulled out a packet of salted fish and unwrapped it. “It’s sad, really. That people can’t love whomever they want.”
“Sad, and also common. In California, for instance, miscegenation—the intermarriage of races—isn’t just frowned on; it’s illegal. And in several other states, too, as I recall.”
“But not in every state?”
“No.” He slid the onions next to the chopped potatoes. “Despite what it says in the Declaration of Independence, all men are not created equal—at least not in the eyes of the American government. Or its society, for that matter.”
“You sound very sure of that.”
“I am. Hand me a carrot,” he said. She did, and he resumed chopping. “My family landed in New York when I was five. We came from Turkey, from a university town that was the equal of any in Europe. My father was an engineer, and my mother was from a well-to-do family on the coast. And yet neither mattered after they arrived. They were shunned and spat upon. The only work my father could find was on the docks. I think it was despair that killed my mother, although my father says otherwise. No matter how hard she tried, she never found a way to fit in.”
“But you did.” It wasn’t a question. The truth of the statement was sitting in front of her, looking and sounding like every other American she had met.
“Children are more adaptable.” He handed the knife back, the carrots all sliced.
“And if one isn’t a child? If someone my age is shipped off to America?”
“I suppose it’s all in how willing you are to let go of the past and everything familiar in order to fit in.”
Her throat tightened as she considered his words. To let go of her father, Zhenzhu, Li Ming . . . could she do it? It seemed an impossible task. They were woven into the fabric of her soul, her very existence.
“Younan. I need your help,” Nathan called out, standing by the unlit fire, his arms full of scavenged branches and brush. The lieutenant’s knees almost folded under him as he staggered to his feet, and she flinched at his grunt of pain. From under her lashes, she watched as he and Nathan started the fire and then rigged a sling to hold the cooking pot over it.
Loneliness crept over her spirits again, and sorrow. How she wished Li Ming were here. She wanted someone to talk to, someone to tell all about her adventures of the day. Someone who might also have an explanation for why she hoped the lieutenant would come back and sit by her, why the sound of his voice seemed to resonate somewhere deep in her belly. She glanced up, unable to stop herself. He was looking at her from across the clearing. Her skin flushed hot, then cold.
She dropped her gaze to the rice scoop in her hands, praying that the twilight was deep enough to hide her flaming cheeks. Why, oh why did she have to be so aware of him? It felt all wrong. She barely knew the lieutenant.
No wonder Li Ming had been so worried for her: only it wasn’t the lieutenant leading her astray but her own body. How she was supposed to get through five more days in the lieutenant’s presence, she had no idea. Of the three men traveling with her, the lieutenant was the most pleasant. The most fascinating . . . And yet she was supposed to pretend to be affianced to Nathan.
Oh, Lord help me. None of this would be happening if I were safe at home.
So go home, then, a small voice whispered in her head. Father won’t send you away again; this time he’ll listen to reason. He might be angry, but you know he would give in and let you stay.
Her breath caught on a sudden wave of possibilities. She could go home. The path back, having been recently traveled, should be easy enough to find. She could sneak away while the men were asleep, find somewhere safe to stay the night, and then continue home in the daylight. Then she could stay in China, in her village, under her father’s roof, translating the Bible into Chinese, safe from distracting men. And after the Bible was finished, she could . . . She racked her brain for another potentially fulfilling task.
The sound of laughter pulled her back to the clearing. The fire burned briskly now, and the three men sat around it, looking relaxed. Her gaze fell on the lieutenant. He was holding his right hand in front of him, pinkie and thumb splayed like airplane wings as he spoke. His words were lost beneath the crackle of the fire, but his tone was animated as he leaned one way and then the other. Nathan snorted with laughter, and even Wu Fang seemed captivated.
A different kind of emotion pulled on her. A part of her wished she could sit by the fire, too, listening and laughing at the lieutenant’s story, sharing in the men’s easy camaraderie. It was a fool’s wish, though. She had been raised to be a proper wife and mother whose place was here, preparing food and waiting on the pleasure of others.
A rebellious spark flared up within her, but she squashed it ruthlessly, along with the foolish thought of returning home. That she was even considering disobeying her father showed how tired she was. Tomorrow she would see the world, and likely the lieutenant, differently. Rationally. She would once more know her place and be comforted by it. Holding on to that thought like a buoy even as she drowned in sorrow, wishing she were home, she gathered up the ingredients for dinner and carried them to the cooking pot.
Chapter 7
Genie awoke in darkness. Somewhere in the distance a bird chirped sleepily, breaking the fitful silence of predawn. A cool breeze rustled the tree branches, a quiet counterpart to the steady rushing of the river beneath the ledge. She rolled onto her back and snuggled deeper into the wool blankets. Overhead, a thousand tiny specks of light glittered like silver dust scattered over a swath of violet-black silk. Soon their ethereal beauty would be erased by the sun, but not yet.
Letting the last vestiges of the night and quiet soothe her, she picked out with practiced ease the various constellations that comprised the seven celestial houses spanning the heavens. Zhenzhu would be proud of her. And then she found her favorite one: the White Tiger of the West, guardian of the winter sky.
Oh, she knew there were other names for the star groupings. Western ones. Ones that were probably more appropriate for her American heritage. Her father had given her an astronomy book for her sixteenth birthday that cataloged them all. But the names felt as foreign to her as the Greek myths that defined them. She preferred the Chinese tales, with their melodramatic plots and cunning twists. Like the one Li Ming had mentioned, where the White Tiger had left his post in the sky to rescue Guan Yin when she had still been an imperial princess and not yet a goddess . . .
A twig snapped in the woods not far away, jolting her fully awake. Hardly daring to breathe, she strained her ears. Was it a leopard? A boar? A thief? A slight movement at the edge of the clearing caught her eye, and then a tall figure materialized. A scream clogged her throat as her heart rate accelerated. She was about to elbow Nathan, who was sleeping next to her, when she noticed the empty bedroll on the other side of him—the side where Lieutenant Younan had been sleeping. The knot in her chest eased as the shadowy form took on the familiar outline of the lieutenant. Sighing out her fear in a shaky exhale, she watched curiously as he skirted the clearing and then sat beneath a tree overlooking the valley.
A small flash and then a whiff of cigarette smoke reached her on a stray breeze.
The rational part of her brain told her to go back to sleep. She was still tired, and today’s journey was likely to be no easier than yesterday’s. Except she wasn’t sleepy anymore. Not after fearing for her life moments before. And what better time to test her newfound resolve to not let the lieutenant disturb her equanimity than now, before the others were awake?
She shimmied out of her warm blanket cocoon and almost gasped at the bite of the frosty air. Rubbing her arms to chase away the morning chill, she eased across the campsite. Her muscles were still stiff and sore, so she gratefully san
k onto the ground under the tree next to the lieutenant. Without speaking, he scooted over to make more room for her.
At first she felt awkward in the silence, painfully aware of every drag he took from his cigarette, every flick of his fingers as he got rid of the ash. Then, as the dusky blue-gray sky slowly separated from the mountains to the east, the view was so spectacular she almost forgot he was there. High clouds of peach and pink streaked the heavens as the background turned from slate to lavender to pale gray. Genie blinked back tears as the sun at last breached the peaks in a brilliant orb of light. All around was beauty so perfect, from the gilded treetops to the glittering frost in the valleys. The air so crisp and pure. And she might never experience it again . . .
A hand unexpectedly settled on her shoulder, and the spell broke. She held perfectly still, her attention centered on the slight pressure of his fingers. Should she pull away? Say something? All her confusion of last night rushed back.
Then he released her, and the crushing of her heart began to ease. Hugging her knees, she let the unspoken empathy of his gesture erase any question of what was right and proper. It was enough to be understood. Because the lieutenant surely did, having had to leave the land of his birth as well.
To have a travel companion whose past so closely mirrored hers was truly a gift, one that seemed divinely ordained.
More birds began to sing in the forest, their clear calls coaxing the day out of hiding.
“Penny for your thoughts.” His voice was low, likely so as not to disturb the sleepers.
She considered the different things she might say and then discarded them all as too embarrassing or too revealing. “They’re not that interesting.”
“Try me.”
She stifled a sigh. “All right. I was wishing time would stop, so I wouldn’t have to leave China.”
He stubbed his cigarette out on the hard ground and then laughed softly. “And here I am counting the minutes until I can get back to the base.”
“So you can get back to the war?” she asked, recalling his words of two days before, when he said he’d be damned before he’d sit out the fight in their small village.
“Hardly. No one with a lick of sense looks forward to that part.” He settled back against the tree, his gaze on the far-off hills. “It’s the being grounded I’ve had enough of. I want to get back in the air.”
“Even though your last flight ended in a crash?” she asked a little incredulously.
“For the last time, it wasn’t a crash. And yeah, I know it’s hard to understand. But see that?” He gestured toward the lightening horizon. “Pretty as that is from here, it’s a hundred times better at five thousand feet. It’s like watching the world being born. A bird’s-eye view of creation.”
She considered for a moment. “Like watching the sunrise from a mountain peak? I did that once; it was beautiful.”
“That’s close, but . . .” He made a frustrated sound as he tucked his unfinished cigarette into his shirt pocket. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“If you don’t like wars, why are you here? Couldn’t you fly in the States?”
“I could, and I did. But I also happen to believe one country shouldn’t be allowed to invade another just because it wants to.”
“So you do want to fight,” she said slowly, still not quite understanding.
“Like I said, only a crazy man wants to fight. Though you lose enough friends in battle that any man can become crazy. Still, some things are worth fighting for.” He inhaled and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you don’t mind . . . can we talk about something else?”
“Oh, sorry.” She turned back to the sunrise and rested her chin on her knees. For all his protests that he didn’t like the war, she remembered the way he had acted out air battles for Wu Fang and Nathan the day before with a little boy’s enthusiasm. Or maybe it was only the flying part he liked . . . and the rest he endured because he felt it was the right thing to do.
If she’d had a brother, would he have volunteered to fight for another man’s country? It was a choice she would never have to face, being a woman, but if she had been born a man? She would like to think she would have been brave enough.
More and more birds began singing, and Wu Fang began to stir. Genie reluctantly stood. The men would want breakfast soon. She turned to pick up the cooking pot and then froze. Nathan was sitting up on his bedroll, staring at her. His light-gray eyes were as icy as the frost on the ground, and a chill slid through her veins. How long had he been awake? Not that she had done anything wrong by sitting with the lieutenant, or that his touching her had been anything but innocent. Drawing a deep breath, she stared right back, daring him to say anything. After a long, tense moment, he turned his face away, but his censure hung in the air.
For the next ten or twelve hours, she did her best to avoid both the lieutenant and Nathan. She didn’t have the energy to examine her reaction to the one or suppress her irritation with the other. The forest became thinner the higher they went, the stream they were following becoming little more than a trickle of spring water.
By the time Wu Fang signaled a stop, the sun was hanging low in the west. Genie groaned as she set her pack down, pretty sure every square inch of her feet was covered with blisters. At least they had stopped next to a small pool so they could refill their water pouches. Hers had run empty hours ago, but she hadn’t dared say anything. The mood of the little group had become grimmer as the clouds overhead began congregating in ever thicker layers.
“We’ll eat here while there’s still light.” Wu Fang set his pack down. “But no wasting time. We still have farther to go.”
Nathan’s pack hit the ground with a weary thud. “Why? Are we falling behind schedule?” he asked tersely in Chinese. Genie could sympathize. Her own eagerness to keep walking was severely lacking.
Wu Fang dug around in the underbrush and removed a long stick, tested it in his hand for balance, and then tossed it aside. “I want to listen on the radio tonight, which means we go high.”
The lieutenant glanced from one man to the other. “What’s going on?”
“Wu Fang wants to keep going after supper,” she said, almost too tired to translate. “So be sure you refill your canteen, since this may be your last chance for a while.”
The lieutenant unslung his backpack with enviable grace and set it on the ground. “All right. Did he say why?”
“He wants to use the radio.”
“Which means we need to get somewhere with good reception.” The lieutenant looked up and squinted at the sky. “And after sunset is probably a good move.”
“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“Because we’re getting closer to Kunming, our odds of attracting unwanted attention are also increasing. From Jap fighter planes,” he added, dispelling her confusion. “I was in the process of chasing off a pair that day I was forced to land.”
“I only heard one plane. I didn’t know . . .” Fear erased her exhaustion as she pictured Li Ming and the other villagers going about their daily lives, out in the open, exposed. “I knew there was a possibility we could be shot at from the air, but I didn’t think . . .”
“Don’t listen to him, Eugenia.” Nathan shot Lieutenant Younan a dark look as he joined them. She stiffened as he casually draped his arm over her shoulders. “The lieutenant is exaggerating the level of danger. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“The hell there isn’t,” the lieutenant said coldly. “Those eight-millimeter machine guns the Japs got up front aren’t just for firing on other aircraft. They can make hamburger out of a man in a matter of seconds.”
Genie sucked in a breath, and spots swam in front of her eyes as images of raw, shredded meat filled her head . . .
“That’s enough, Lieutenant.” Nathan tightened his grip on her, holding her upright. “There’s no point frightening her.”
“Yeah, well . . . keeping her in the dark isn’t doing her any favors, either
,” the lieutenant said. “She has a right to know the score, just like the rest of us.”
She wanted to double over and vomit as the bloody images took on faces, became her friends, her family, her father. “We’ve got to go back and warn the others.”
“Eugenia, no.”
“But they’re in danger. They could die.”
Nathan turned her to face him. His hands gripped her shoulders firmly, refusing to let her turn away. “They already know. It’s why your father wanted me to take you away, to keep you safe.”
“What of the others?”
“They can make their own decision on whether to leave or stay.”
“But not me.” Anger burned beneath her skin.
“Your heart is too soft to make such an important decision. You would have been swayed by emotion instead of reason, which is why your father and I decided for you. You should feel honored that you are so well cared for and loved.”
Except she didn’t feel any of those things. She felt helpless and sick. Everyone around her seemed to have a say in her future except for her, and she was tired of it. She wasn’t an infant. This had to stop. Her family was in danger.
“I’m going back.” She snatched her pack from the ground and threw it over her shoulders. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she ignored them.
Lieutenant Younan reached out and snagged her by the strap as she brushed past. “No, you’re not.”
“Why not?” she demanded, her fear for her family making her bold.
His dark eyes were filled with sorrow when his gaze met hers. “You don’t have enough experience to find the trail on your own. You’d never make it.”
“Then come with me.”
A Girl Divided Page 7