There was no forest in which to hide. You wouldn’t be so bold as to knock upon the door. A worn dirt road bisected an orchard of fruit trees. You pretended to be a weary traveler. The simple clothes you wore gave no hint of your life before. You rested in the shade of an apple tree. Alone, you were alert. You were no longer young and quick. You felt sorrow for the awareness of danger. The feeling you remembered too well had been buried for so long.
Several days you spent this way. You strained Wei’s patience. You almost relented and returned home.
Then one morning, a little girl of four or five appeared on the road. She ran back to join an older woman. You sat with anticipation. They approached, and you pushed yourself up to stand. The woman was the girl. Your second daughter was correct that you would recognize your first. She was stout like your mother, with her thick brows and pinched mouth. The woman and the child were dressed in great finery more appropriate for a banquet than a walk.
Old peasant, pick me an apple, said the little child.
You flinched at her words. You looked at her, seeking a resemblance. The little one had blond hair, green eyes, and pleasing features. The girl was too old to have a child so young. The girl’s granddaughter, you thought. | your great-granddaughter | With a tolerant smile, you twisted a fruit from the tree.
There you are, child, you said.
The little one took a bite.
The girl nodded at you. Not a gray hair was out of place.
Good morning, you said.
She scowled and nodded again.
Your sudden confusion diffused your anxiety that she stood almost within reach. Her response had been less than cordial. Then you realized the error. You clutched the sides of your skirt in your wrinkled hands. The curtsy was empty but heavy with humiliation. Ages had passed since you’d bowed to anyone.
My lady, you said.
What brings you to this road? asked she.
I’m traveling to see my daughter and stopped to rest.
Well, it is a lovely day for a walk.
Old peasant, get me another apple, said the child.
You reached high for a large ripe one. When you held it out for her, she grabbed your wrist. She touched the sapphire bracelet Leit had given you instead of a ring.
What a pretty sparkling bracelet! said the child.
Yes, it is. Wherever did you come by such a dear piece of jewelry? asked the girl.
A wedding gift from my husband, now at rest, you said.
And who was he?
A great warrior.
The girl stared long at you. She turned her aged face to play the light against yours.
Do I know you? asked she.
No, my lady.
Should I know you?
No, my lady.
Then might it not be best for us strangers to part and continue along our own ways? Come, said the girl to her granddaughter.
Once more you curtsied. | your body remembered | They continued on their stroll and vanished in the distance. You searched yourself for remorse, guilt, shame, love, acceptance. The unforgivable acts remained unchanged. Your deeds were done. Your choices were made. The consequences rippled before and beyond you.
Tell the heinous truth.
The twins had freed you.
Your worst fear had not come true. You hadn’t been forced to lay aside your compass and straight edge to marry an intolerable man and bear his young. Instead, you married their father, who welcomed them as you could not. His esteem for you, their mother, spared you noose and blade. You left them without a struggle. No matter that they were his issue to keep and give away. They were your terrible innocent ransom. Their little lives opened the window of chance that allowed you to flee at all. You did, but you could not escape them.
They revealed you fully to yourself. You were a woman unwilling to be what others expected of her. A person unable to love without condition. A human being who wanted peace regardless of the price.
You stood on the road in the land of your birth. No longing, no regret. You exhaled a sorrowful gratitude. Your life before had given you the gift of your life after. Beautiful, horrible both, and all points linked between. There in that place you waited for Wei.
A gentle hand touched your left arm. Her lined violet eyes looked within you.
Take me home, my beautiful child, you said.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My most sincere thanks extend to—
my circle of family, friends, and acquaintances who shared kind words and encouragement—particularly Nolde Alexius, Martin Arceneaux, Tameka Cage Conley, Penelope Dane, Ava Leavell Haymon, Jamey Hatley, Susan Henderson, Judy Kahn, Karla King, Ben Lanier-Nabors, Jandy Nelson, Ariana Wall Postlethwait, Joe Scallorns, and Emilie Staat;
the ones who first saw the strange beast—Katy Powell, Dub Lee, Kate Suchanek, and James Claffey;
the talented artist, Kathryn Hunter of Blackbird Letterpress;
a true friend and solid anchor, Alison Aucoin;
a grounding force and thoughtful reader, Madeleine Conger;
a writer soulmate if there ever was one, with fierce editing chops, Mary McMyne;
the hosts who provided places of respite when the words finally showed up—Lisa and Maurice Werness, Angie Ledbetter, Gary “Doc T” Taylor, and Janet Taylor;
the experts who generously shared their knowledge—Dr. Jon Campbell, Elaine Smyth, and Michele Piumini;
the magic places that always seemed to have what I needed— the East Baton Rouge Parish Library and Louisiana State University’s Middleton Library and Hill Memorial Library;
those authors, translators, and visionaries whose books confirmed I was on the right path and showed me the way—Anne Baring, Jean Shinoda Bolen, Lloyd A. Brown, Joseph Campbell, Jules Cashford, Riane Eisler, Marija Gimbutas, Jonathan Glover, Edward T. Hall, Seamus Heaney, Buffie Johnson, Robert A. Johnson, Thomas Kinsella, C. G. Jung, Alice Miller, Robert L. Moore, Parker Palmer, Wilhelm Reich, Edward Tick, Eckhart Tolle, Edward R. Tufte, Marie-Louise von Franz, and Marion Woodman;
my agent Jillian Manus and publisher Judith Curr, for embracing the leap;
my editor Sarah Branham, who guided the journey’s completion with insight; and
my beloved, Todd, who waited at the end of the tunnel.
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