Lottery

by Kimberly Shursen

  “Even though I am part Chinese, just being in Shanghai I can feel the bond,” Ling said. “I will also encourage new parents to foster their child’s Chinese heritage.”

  “You will be acting as the parents’ agent?” Dr. Wang asked Ling.

  “Yes. I am finally incorporated and have hired a social worker with years of experience to work with me. There’s also a lawyer on board when needed,” Ling told him. “I don’t need a large staff, as I will only be placing two or three children a year.” She leaned forward. “Did you receive the paperwork?”

  Dr. Wang nodded. “It has been filed with the appropriate agencies.” He stood and walked around to the other side of his desk. “Thank you for helping our children.”

  Ling stood. “If it wasn’t for my fiancé,” she said and glanced at Caleb, “this wouldn’t have been possible.”

  “Dependent on ya, buddy,” Weber said. “Makes a man feel like a man.”

  Caleb pushed the tips of his index fingers together, and touched them to underneath his chin. Yes, he replied silently, it does.

  ing sighed after they were seated in the casual restaurant-bar in the hotel. “Quite a day.”

  Caleb rubbed his throbbing temple. “Very emotional.”

  Ling covered his hand with hers. “I know.”

  After he ordered a scotch for himself and white wine for Ling, Caleb said, “Neither of us is working and I think we should just stay in Shanghai until we’re married. I assume you want a traditional Chinese wedding.”

  Ling looked over at him with a puzzled look on her face. “But I can’t get ready for our wedding in just a few days.”

  “You can take however long you need.”

  “I want my mom to help plan everything,” Ling said.

  Caleb waited for the waitress to put their drinks down before he answered. “I don’t see that as a problem.”

  She put a hand on his arm. “Why are you so good to me?”

  He leaned into her. “Because you deserve it.”

  Ling touched her lips to his. “Is it okay if we move to a cheaper hotel?”

  Caleb smiled. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

  Two weeks later, Mei and Samuel arrived. Mei and Ling began making arrangements for the wedding, while Sam and Caleb discovered the city. Sam was the closest to a father Caleb would ever have. Sam accepted him as his son and had never said an unkind word to Caleb. With his laid back attitude, it made no difference to Sam Jameson if he was talking to a millionaire or a street person; he treated everyone the same.

  Stumbling across the House of Roosevelt/Bund 27, Caleb turned to Sam. “Shall we go in and take a look around?”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?”

  The Neoclassical building had been restored in 2008 by Tweed Roosevelt, who was the great-grandson of President Theodore Roosevelt and nephew to President Franklin Roosevelt. Tweed had been committed to keeping the original architecture of the five-story building and turning it into an exclusive restaurant.

  Each of the five floors was uniquely and tastefully decorated. The private Cellar & Wine Vault, with rich dark paneling and classic leather chairs, was used by private members and also catered to royalty, diplomats, and other affluent guests. The third floor could be reserved by members only, and the fourth was an upscale restaurant open to the public. No matter where you were in the building, the view offered a dramatic, picturesque scene of the riverfront.

  Standing on the rooftop that hosted the Sky Bar, Caleb gazed out over the river and skyline. The House of Roosevelt combined the perfect combination of Chinese and American cuisine that both Mei and Ling would appreciate. “What d’ya think, Sam?” Caleb asked. “Think we should line up a reunion for Mei’s family and have it here?”

  “I can’t think of anything that would make my wife happier,” Sam said. “I’ll help with the cost.”

  “I don’t need your money, Sam.” Caleb smiled and put his hand on Sam’s back. “Just your friendship.”

  A week later, Caleb arrived at the restaurant early to make sure everything was in order. The Sky Bar had been transformed as Caleb had requested. Long tables covered in crisp white tablecloths surrounded by cushy upholstered chairs had replaced modern, high-top tables and stools. A spray of red roses, plum blossoms, and light yellow Osmanthus flowers decorated the middle of the two tables. On either side of the centerpieces were tall white candles encased by hour-glass shaped hurricane lamps. Chairs had been grouped together on the deck in threes or fours for those who wanted a private conversation.

  Ling and Mei had chosen red snapper and sweet shrimp as an appetizer, and roasted duck, cod, and beef tenderloin as the main course. The fully stocked bar offered expensive Australian and French wines that Caleb had selected during a private tasting in the Wine Cellar.

  By seven p.m., twenty-three of Mei’s relatives had gathered on the rooftop, all of them talking at once as they caught up on the decades that they’d been separated. The emotional get-together of family members Mei hadn’t seen in over forty years brought tears to even Caleb’s eyes.

  When his head started to ache from the buzz of an unfamiliar language, Caleb excused himself, telling Ling he needed some air. Wearing a single strand of pearls that matched the white cocktail-length dress, Ling looked stunning.

  When Caleb reached the first floor, he opened the front door and walked down the stairs to the street. On the corner, he took out a cigarette and lit it. He’d given up smoking years ago, but the stress of the past few months offered an excuse to start up the habit.

  Caleb’s family was due to arrive next week; two days before the wedding. He inhaled, and blew out the trail of smoke. His insides curdled every time he thought about seeing his father. If Ling hadn’t insisted, he would have never told his parents about the wedding. His father hadn’t done one damn thing to deserve a free trip to China. His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

  “How’s it going?” Caleb heard and looked up. “Surprised to see me?” Weber asked walking toward him.

  Caleb froze, the cigarette dropping to the sidewalk. Jesus. It couldn’t be. Weber was wearing the same shirt and khaki shorts he’d had on the night of his accident. Caleb closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them, Weber was still there. His heart throbbing in his chest, he turned and started up the steps.

  “Hey,” Weber called after him. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

  Feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of him, Caleb stopped and slowly turned back around. “You’re dead.”

  Weber put his arms out to his sides, a few strands of hair falling over his forehead. “Am I?”

  “Look.” Caleb sped back down the steps. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit.”

  “Bullshit?” Weber asked. “Without me, you’d be sitting in a jail cell.”

  Caleb slapped a hand over his chest. “You’re the one who made me do the things I did.” Anxiously, he glanced around to see if anyone was near.

  “Me?” Weber took off his sunglasses, his dark eyes staring through Caleb.

  Caleb’s face close to Weber’s, he whispered, “You’re the one who killed McKenzie.”

  “Au contraire, my friend.” Weber shook his head. “You can take credit for that.”

  “Fuck you!” Caleb retorted and started for the stairs.

  “Caleb?” Caleb heard and looked up.

  “Sam,” Caleb managed, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

  “Who you talking to, Son?” Sam asked, coming down the steps toward him.

  Caleb scratched his temple, his left eye twitching—son-of-a-bitch. “Someone asked for directions.” Caleb smirked, trying to make light of what Sam had heard. “As if I would know where anything is. I mean … hey, do I look Chinese?”

  Sam’s expression was puzzled as he glanced up and down the empty street. “You feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. The guy was on a motor bike,” Caleb explained. “Whizzed by me when I said I couldn’t help him.”
Hopefully this would pacify Sam so he wouldn’t think Caleb was insane.

  “Ling’s asking about you.” Sam started back up the steps. “Think she was worried you got bored.”

  “Nope. Just needed some air.” Caleb glanced over his shoulder and saw Weber leaning against a lamp post. A shit-eating grin on his face, his arms crossed over his perfectly pressed Polo shirt, he looked as real to Caleb as Sam did. The difference, however, was that Caleb was the only one who could see him.

  “See ya soon, buddy.” Weber put up his hand up as a wave.

  Oh God, what was happening?

  wo weeks later, Caleb stood in the garden courtyard of the Okura Garden Hotel wearing a black tux, red bow tie, and matching cummerbund. He swiped the perspiration off his forehead as he waited for Ling to walk down the aisle. He was jittery and hadn’t slept well since he’d seen Weber. Now the voice in his head had a face.

  Weber had looked exactly the way he had the night he’d died, devoid of any scars where the anchor had slashed through his skull. He couldn’t think about it now. Ling was about to become his wife. Nothing was going to destroy this moment.

  The brilliant orange sun slowly slid into the horizon, peeking through the branches of the soaring pines and sycamores that dotted the grounds. Flower beds of orchids, Chinese red roses, hibiscus, and white gardenias sprinkled the dense carpet of green grass.

  The Chinese symbol meaning ‘Double Happiness’ was etched into the dome of a gazebo that would serve as a backdrop to their ceremony, and bright red peonies that symbolized the beginning of a new life filled the large urns on either side of the outdoor altar. Two white candles framed the bouquet of lilies placed on the ceremonial table in front of the priest who would marry them.

  Caleb and Ling’s parents were the only guests that sat on folding chairs facing Caleb. His father looked old and puffy; but then, he’d always looked that way to Caleb. His mother wore the same plastered smile on her face, fidgeting with her hands and, more than likely, praying her husband wouldn’t embarrass her. Although Caleb had not looked forward to his parents being at the wedding, and even resented paying for their tickets and hotel, he hoped his father would finally realize Caleb wasn’t worthless.

  When the quartet of two violins, cello and bass began to play Bach’s ‘Arioso,’ Caleb blew out a breath. God, was this really happening? Was Ling really going to become his wife?

  When he saw her step onto the three foot wide red carpet that had been placed over the grass, Caleb’s heart filled with pride. Time stood still as she walked toward him. Caleb took in her thick dark hair sleeked back into a neat chignon; her full lips tainted a glossy red to match her sleeveless dress; her delicate arm laced through her father’s.

  When they reached Caleb, Sam kissed his daughter’s cheek and then gave her hand to Caleb. It was all Caleb could do not to crumble to his knees. Ling looked like a delicate work of art; the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. He wished he could capture this moment in time and hold onto it forever.

  After a short sermon on the sanctity of marriage, the priest addressed Caleb using the verbiage of a traditional Chinese wedding. “Caleb Jacob O’Toole, are you are willing to take Ling Elizabeth Jameson as your wife, in sacred marriage together for life? Whether she has sickness or health, poverty or wealth, beauty or is plain, in good times and in bad, are you willing to love her, to comfort her, to respect her, and to protect her? And are you willing to be forever loyal to her?”

  Caleb cleared his throat. “I do” he replied. He slipped a diamond studded silver band on her left hand.

  When the priest asked Ling the same question and she replied, “I do,” Caleb bit his lower lip, swallowing back tears. The insecurities of being told that he would never amount to anything seemed to disappear when he saw himself through Ling’s eyes.

  After the priest presented them as man and wife, Ling and Caleb, followed by their parents, moved to a banquet table covered in a bright red tablecloth and set with delicate hand-painted China. Tiki lights provided the only outdoor lighting as waiters poured champagne and offered appetizers arranged on silver platters.

  Caleb hoped that the dinner would be over soon so he could be alone with Ling. Tonight they would consummate their marriage. Their marriage. He would do whatever it took to protect Ling and their life together.

  Among the many Chinese superstitions was the lucky number eight. Because of this, Ling and Mei had decided on an eight-course meal, starting with slices of meat shaped like phoenixes and dragons. The single most respected legendary creature in China was the dragon that symbolized the male; and the second most regarded was the fiery red bird, or phoenix that represented the female.

  Caleb kept a watchful eye over his father, fearing that at any moment Matt O’Toole’s temper would flair. So far, his father was on his best behaviour. His mother was the same mousy woman she’d always been whose only purpose in life was to obey Caleb’s father’s every need.

  Caleb picked up his glass of wine, then pushed back his chair and stood. He looked down at Ling admiringly. “To my bride,” Caleb said, not taking his eyes off of her. “The only woman I will ever love.”

  “Here, here,” his father announced and raised his glass.

  Sam and Caleb’s father seemed to be getting along well, and Mei chatted with Caleb’s mother as if they’d been friends forever.

  After the reception, Caleb and Ling retired to the honeymoon suite, and their parents’ went to the rooms Caleb had secured for their stay. Caleb was anxious. Although he and Ling had made love before, tonight was different as it was their first night as man and wife.

  “I’ll be out in a bit.” Ling kissed him gently on the lips, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Caleb poured two glasses of champagne and changed into a thick, white terrycloth bathrobe with the hotel’s emblem embroidered on the left crest. The massive headboard on the four-poster bed that sat on a raised platform was intricately carved with miniature phoenixes and dragons. The silky white duvet was sprinkled with rose petals in the shape of a heart.

  Caleb dimmed the lights and took a sip of his champagne. As he paced the room, he closed the curtains, noticing employees were breaking down the table they’d sat at for their reception. The entire night seemed surreal; Ling placing the ring on his finger; the wedding vows pledging to love each other forever; and now, he was about to make love to his bride.

  At dinner, Caleb’s mother had commented that with Ling’s white skin and stark black hair, and Caleb’s sky-blue eyes and blonde hair that they would have beautiful children together. A chill went down his spine. He knew Ling wanted a family and didn’t know the first thing about parenting. Although Sam’s influence had helped him understand that a father didn’t have to be a son-of-a-bitch.

  “Caleb?”

  At the sound of Ling’s voice, he turned. Skimpily clad in a white silk teddy, her hair hanging halfway down her back, she took his breath away; the perfect skin, the full lips, her almond shaped eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes. He held out his hand and slowly walked toward her, and then stopped abruptly a few feet away.

  “Caleb.” Ling rushed to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” His voice broke.

  She laid a gentle hand on his cheek and turned his face toward hers. Staring into his eyes, she kissed him sweetly on the lips. “There is no man better for me than you,” she whispered. “You are my husband; the man I am in love with.”

  He blinked back tears, hating himself for ruining the moment. “Do you mean that?”

  She smiled. “Why would I marry someone I didn’t love?”

  He walked to the bedside table and set the crystal goblet of champagne down. After he turned down the duvet, he held out his hand to her.

  Ling walked to him and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Fearing if he said anything else he’d break down, he covered her lips with his.

  With their lips still touching,
Caleb untied his robe, letting it fall to the floor. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took both of her hands in his, leading her to sit down beside him. Cupping his hands over her cheeks, he gazed into her eyes, trying to believe she was really his.

  Slowly, he pulled the silk strap off her shoulder and kissed her neck, gently guiding her down on the bed. He covered her lips and slowly brought the silk teddy down to her waist. He kissed her breasts … down her arms … each finger.

  The gentle arch of her back, the sweet, aching resonance of her voice told Caleb all he needed to know. His fingers sensually travelled down her thighs and back up to her navel, his mouth and tongue exploring every part of her.

  “Please,” she whispered, pulling him up on top of her. “I want you.”

  Teasing her relentlessly, he gradually entered her, watching her expression that begged him to make love to her. Overwrought with emotion, when Caleb exploded inside of her, every muscle shuddered. Ling was his, and one would ever touch her but Caleb.

  Caleb and Ling spent the next two days sightseeing with both sets of parents. The three couples strolled the peaceful grounds of the Yuyuan Garden. Caleb noticed that even his father seemed to be enjoying the tour of the Ming dynasty pavilions, elaborate rockeries, and arched bridges in the garden. Beginning with the Sansui Tang pavilion, they saw a window and wood-beam carvings that were made entirely of rice, millet, wheat, and fruit. Next, they wandered through the Di Jia Shan that displayed a forty-six foot structure of rare yellow stones fused together with rice glue to depict caves, peaks, and ravines. When they stepped into the Yu Hua Tang pavilion, the exquisite eleven foot jade rock that was acquired when the boat carrying it to the emperor of Beijing sank off the shore of Shanghai was breathtaking. The serene pond that surrounded the amazing rock was filled with goldfish.

  After lunch, they visited City God Temple. A sense of peace washed over Caleb as they reverently walked through the nine halls where various statues of immortals that were believed to be in charge of certain aspects of human life received endless worship.