by Robbi McCoy
“Nope. Neither God nor the Devil is universal. But they’re pretty damn prolific.”
“Speaking of devils,” Lauren said, leaping out of her chair. “Look at this!”
Faith joined her at the railing as they came toward a gradually rising hill, at the top of which was a gigantic human head carved out of white stone. The headdress on it was flat and squared off, giving the entire head a rectangular shape. The eyes were closed and the mouth was framed with a sharp-angled mustache. The huge sculpture embedded in the hillside included two hands folded under the head, holding some sort of tablet. Both of them stared in amazement as they came closer and the statue grew larger.
The ship was turning now, heading toward shore where two other cruise ships already lay anchored.
“The Ghost King,” Faith said quietly. “Are you ready to meet the king of the underworld?”
Lauren nodded emphatically. “Bring him on, Baby!”
Chapter Eleven
The ship’s lounge, with its dark paneling and sofas and mismatched tables, had become the regular evening hangout for the four new friends. The cabins were so small they weren’t suited to socializing, especially at night when it was too cold and dark to sit on the balcony. On this, their last night of the cruise, Faith sat in one of the stiff-backed chairs at a square table, writing out postcards to friends and family members. Lauren and Cassie sat on one of the soft couches, side by side, drinking scotch and talking. Faith had not been aware of their conversation for the most part, but at the moment she was idle, trying to think of something to say to her sister Charity. That was tricky because Charity was so contrary on all possible subjects that Faith imagined even the idea of China would grate on her, would trigger some religious, political or cultural controversy in her mind. On all of these subjects, Faith and Charity were total opposites. There were almost no safe topics between them. Not that they tried to have a conversation all that often anymore. It was helpful that Charity lived in Colorado. She was much easier to take at a distance.
She had chosen a postcard with a lovely mountain scene showcasing the velvety green hills surrounding the Three Gorges area. Surely that wouldn’t give Charity any cause for objection. Faith studied the photo, reassuring herself there were no possible ideological arguments leaping out from the idyllic landscape.
Her attention moved to her right hand, to their grandmother’s diamond and sapphire ring, the source of a big blow-up between them after Grandma died. Unfortunately, Grandma hadn’t specified anything in her will about the ring. But because of Faith’s open admiration of it, Grandma had told her more than once it would be hers. Faith turned the ring to catch the light. Charity hadn’t believed her and they had had a horrible fight, one of those emotional monsters that drags into play every unresolved bit of pain about every slight from a lifetime of troubled sisterhood. Predictably, when Faith tried to give the ring to Charity to placate her, she refused to take it. It had taken years of angry silence to move past that, six or seven years ago now. Although they were speaking again, their relationship remained touchy. Every word and every gesture on Faith’s part was carefully considered, designed to avoid conflict.
She removed her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes. Lauren and Cassie sat facing one another on the sofa, both of them looking relaxed and contented.
“It’s a pipedream, I suppose,” Lauren was saying. “But I’ve wanted to try it for a while. I’ve made a few small attempts. Articles in our local paper, you know. Little travel pieces.”
Cassie took another sip of scotch. “The articles, the ones you’ve gotten published, what were they about?”
“Kind of funny things, really. Like cranberries. One was about cranberries.”
“Not the Celtic music Cranberries?”
Lauren laughed. “No! The fruit. They grow them in Oregon.”
“I didn’t know that. I thought cranberries only grew on the East Coast.”
“No. Both Oregon and Washington.”
“I should read your article,” Cassie decided brightly. “Then I’d know all about it, right?”
“Right.” Lauren looked excited and flushed. “Then I did this one about where to go to sample and buy the largest variety of apples.”
“So you write about food!”
Lauren nodded. “I didn’t really plan it that way, but it seems I gravitate toward that subject. In general, I’d like to be a travel writer. I like to travel and I like to write.”
“Sounds like a wonderful dream.” Cassie patted Lauren’s arm. “Perfectly possible, too.”
“Except for the need to make a living,” Lauren observed.
“Yeah, except for that.” Cassie laughed.
The waiter came by to bring them fresh drinks. They were on their third round. Jennifer had declined to sit in the lounge this evening and was in the ship’s tiny exercise room on the lone treadmill. Faith was certain both Cassie and Lauren were glad of that, glad of the chance for this one-on-one visit before the end of the cruise.
Faith finally wrote an innocuous and cheerful greeting to her sister which could easily have been translated as, “Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.” At least she’ll know I’m thinking about her, Faith thought, and thank God she won’t know what I’m thinking about her. She smiled and took up another postcard. Looking at the tiny address book she traveled with, she came next to Emma McKinley. She hesitated.
“What about you?” Lauren asked Cassie. “What are your dreams for yourself?”
“I do have one, actually. For a long time I’ve wanted to be a lawyer. Oh, I know, lawyers are the scum of the earth.”
Lauren shook her head. “No, that’s just a stereotype. There are plenty of exceptions. Lawyers can do a lot of good if they want to. They can empower people.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it.” Cassie nodded enthusiastically. “I want to be in a position to do that.”
“What’s holding you back?”
Cassie shrugged. “Law school. Seems intimidating. I don’t know if I could do it. And it wouldn’t be easy, financially, since I can’t see how I could do that and teach full time. I’d hate to change direction and put all my resources into that and then find out I wasn’t up to it.”
“Why wouldn’t you be? You’re an intelligent woman. You obviously know how to deal with school. I’ve heard English majors make very successful law students.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll do it someday.”
She didn’t sound convincing, Faith thought, then returned to her postcard problem. Should she send Emma a postcard or not? Why are postcards so difficult all of the sudden? Faith wondered. Emma, her graduate student, would be ecstatic to get a postcard from her. Emma had taken all of her classes during the past few years, starting with cultural anthropology. But Faith had grown wary of her lately. Over time, their relationship had gradually changed from student and teacher to something more personal. They had met for lunch twice off campus. Emma often came by Faith’s office late in the afternoon and they sat in conversation for an hour, easily, some days, so that when Emma left, Faith had to call home and tell Lauren she was running late. It was beginning to feel too much like deception. If Emma had been a girl of twenty like the other girls with crushes on their teacher, this would have been completely harmless. But she was a woman of thirty-four, a reentry student. As such, they had found more common ground than Faith did with most students. But like those fawning young girls, Emma was beginning to reveal deeper feelings. She was more self-controlled than the others, but Faith had seen it in her eyes and in gestures like small gifts and the way she turned up on campus so often where Faith happened to be, much too often to attribute to chance.
Faith was now her thesis advisor. As a result, they were working more closely than ever. Every move had to be carefully orchestrated now. No more off-campus meetings, for one thing. Faith had been setting up rules for herself in her mind like an alcoholic sets up rules to regulate her drinking. She hadn’t worked out all the rules yet.
She didn’t know what the rule was about postcards.
The card she was considering for Emma was an image of the Terra Cotta Warriors from one of the most elaborate tombs in the world, that of the first emperor of China. Faith suspended her pen over the card and listened again to the conversation nearby while she mentally composed her message.
“God,” Cassie said, “that place we saw today was weird, wasn’t it? The Ghost City.”
“Weird and wonderful,” Lauren agreed. “Like a bizarre funhouse. Some of those faces reminded me of the witch doctor masks in Faith’s collection. Too outlandish to be scary, though.”
“Oh, right. It wasn’t scary, although it might be if you went there alone on a moonless night and stood on the Bridge of Helplessness over the River of Blood and heard some ghostly cry of agony.”
“What a fantastic place for a Halloween party!” suggested Lauren.
The two of them laughed gleefully at this notion. Faith had to admit it was an interesting thought. She considered telling them festivals not unlike Halloween parties were actually held there, but decided to stay out of their conversation. They didn’t need her breaking into their fun.
“I love that hat,” Lauren said. “It’s so cute on you.”
Cassie touched her knit cap, tugging down slightly on the bill. “Thanks. After all that drizzle today, my hair was hopelessly flat, so I decided to just hide it tonight.”
“It makes you look like a little street urchin or something. One of those adorable orphan children with gigantic pleading eyes. You know what I mean. I can’t think of the artist.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.”
Cassie took off her cap and pulled it carefully onto Lauren’s head, then sat back admiring the look. Her hair was definitely flat tonight, Faith noted.
“Well, you look adorable too!” Cassie exclaimed. “It looks better on you, even.”
Lauren tilted her head with an air of conceit, then laughed self-consciously. Faith had rarely seen her enjoying herself so much. It was a curious thing to watch. Maybe it was the scotch. Alcohol did tend to loosen her up quite a bit.
“Why China?” Lauren asked Cassie, still wearing the cap. “What made you choose this as your vacation?”
“Oh, it was sort of a mess, really. Started last year. Jen latched onto this idea of adopting a baby. These friends of ours did it. They came over here and got a newborn. Cute little girl. Well, you know, it would never be a boy here, would it? I wasn’t surprised when Jen fell in love with the little sweetheart. She decided she wanted us to do the same thing, adopt a Chinese baby.”
“Did you want another child?”
“Let’s put it this way, I wasn’t dead set against it. And I want Jen to be happy. I had a child, but she didn’t. Why shouldn’t she have one if she really wanted one? So we started planning how to go about it. Made inquiries and set aside a chunk of time to travel to China. The closer the time came, the more Jen started having second thoughts. She kept changing her mind. About three months ago, she finally decided for certain she wasn’t ready. We put a stop to the baby plans. But we kept the trip to China.”
“Were you glad she decided against it?”
“Frankly, yes. I wasn’t sure I was up to that kind of commitment. I mean, I really blew it my first time around.” A sad smile appeared on Cassie’s lips. “I was envisioning Jen as the main mother figure in this case, although if I was supposed to teach the tyke how to play softball or fix a car, I wasn’t really going to be of much use there either. I guess, ultimately, I’d have made as lousy a father as I did a mother.”
Although Cassie tossed the remark off with a laugh, Faith detected some serious misgivings beneath it. No doubt Lauren sensed the same thing because she looked sympathetic and put a comforting hand on Cassie’s forearm.
“Do you think of yourself as a lousy mother?” she asked.
“Oh, maybe ‘lousy’ isn’t an accurate description. Absent is more like it. I really do think it was the right thing to do, though, to let Lucas raise him. I’m sorry I haven’t had a larger role in his life. But at least we’ve kept up our visits. Two or three times a year. And I have to wonder if my son would have been such a good reader if he’d been raised by his English teacher mother. So many of my colleagues end up having these kids who refuse to open a book. Breaks their hearts. Life is so full of irony, isn’t it?”
Lauren nodded.
“What about you, Lauren?” Cassie asked. “Any latent desires for children?”
“No. Never considered it.” Lauren turned her gaze toward Faith and raised her voice. “Besides, Faith is like a big kid. I mean, I may as well have a child. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny come to our house every year. If anybody would indulge her, she’d be out trick or treating on Halloween.”
Faith, understanding that she was being drawn into the conversation, grinned at them, but said nothing. The waiter appeared at their table, hoping to interest them in a fourth round.
“No, thanks,” Lauren told him. “We’re done for tonight.”
Faith turned her attention back to her postcard and started to write as the others shuffled around, getting ready to leave. Lauren pulled the cap off and handed it back to Cassie.
“Do you think we could keep in touch?” Cassie asked. “It’s been so nice getting to know you and Faith.”
“Oh, yes!” said Lauren, taking hold of Cassie’s hand in both of hers. “We should have talked about this already. Absolutely. We feel the same way. We’ll exchange all our information tomorrow before we leave.”
Faith looked up and said good night to Cassie with a wave. As Cassie left, Lauren came and peered over Faith’s shoulder, hugging her around the neck. “How are you doing here?” she asked.
“Just about done.” She signed, simply, “Faith” at the bottom of the card. She had decided it would send the wrong message to withhold a card, especially after Emma had been so excited about the idea of Faith going to China. And if she made it breezy enough, impersonal even, it was an opportunity to reinforce the idea that Faith thought no more about Emma on this vacation than she did about anyone else in her address book.
She reread her message silently to make sure it had the right effect, realizing Lauren was reading over her shoulder.
“Dear Emma, we saw the hanging coffins as planned. Fabulous! Going on to Shanghai tomorrow. You must come here if you ever get the chance. So many astonishing things to see. Faith.”
Lauren still hung around her neck. “Emma?”
“My graduate student. You remember. She gave me that watercolor from her trip to Alaska, the one in my office at school.”
“Oh, right. The northern lights. Sorry, I can’t keep track of your students.”
Faith pressed one of Lauren’s hands to her lips. “No reason you should, darling. I can barely keep track of them myself.”
Chapter Twelve
Faith was waiting in the ship for a porter to bring her suitcase. Lauren was down on the dock already, sitting on a bench, making notes in her journal, waiting for the others. A few feet away, the ship lay anchored on the bank of the Yangtze. Everyone was leaving, saying goodbye. Some were continuing their China tour, like Faith and Lauren, and others were going home, like Cassie and Jennifer.
Lauren was trying to capture some of the sensory details of the day, the way the ship’s windows glinted with sunlight, the cry of gulls, a gray smell in the air like smoke and a haze over Chongqing—simple, old-fashioned pollution caused by the burning of coal. On their earlier trip, they had been shocked at the layer of smog that clung to the sky around every city. They weren’t used to that in the United States, at least not in Oregon. The new dam, hated by many, would flood the hanging coffins of the Bo, but it would help clean the air for the people still living.
As she was penning these thoughts, Lauren looked up to see Cassie and Jennifer coming up the gangway, rolling their luggage behind them. She closed her journal and stood, waving to them. When they made it to the dock, she hugged th
em each in turn.
“The bus is here already,” Jennifer said, pointing to the street where a sleek, modern tourist bus stood with its engine running. “Why don’t I take our bags over. You can stay here a minute.”
Cassie nodded.
“Lauren,” Jennifer said, “it was great meeting you and Faith. We had a wonderful time. Cassie tells me we’ll be keeping in touch. Maybe you can come to Albuquerque for the balloon festival or something.”
“That would be something to see,” Lauren said. “Definitely a possibility. And Portland isn’t a bad vacation destination either.”
Jennifer gave a satisfied nod, then pulled the suitcases away toward the bus.
Lauren turned to Cassie, who was looking at her wordlessly, a joyless smile on her face.
“We saw Faith inside,” Cassie said. “She’ll be out in just a minute.”
Lauren slipped a card out of her journal and handed it to her. “That’s got everything on it. Our address, e-mail, phones.”
Cassie took it, then reached into a pocket in her bag and handed Lauren a folded sheet of paper. “This is ours.”
“Thanks.” Lauren glanced at the paper without reading it.
“You’re lucky. Your vacation isn’t over. It’s been wonderful. Better than I expected and I had high expectations. Well, you’re partly responsible for that. I didn’t count on meeting such interesting new friends.”
“Nor did I.” Lauren could see Cassie was beginning to feel the emotional impact of her leave-taking. She attempted to reassure her. “You’ll hear from me first thing when we get home. After we pick up the cats. Maybe after we get the mail from the neighbor.”
Lauren laughed an oddly hollow laugh. Cassie’s sadness, which was growing, was infecting her.
“Promise,” Cassie urged, taking hold of Lauren’s hands.
“I promise.” Lauren squeezed her hands to emphasize her words.
Cassie glanced over to the bus and frowned. Lauren looked in that direction to see Jennifer waving her over.