by Fran Baker
“Anne.” The aloof command in his voice put a halt to her hurried attempt to escape the car. “When will you stop hiding behind your work?” he asked with gentle concern.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied in a trembling voice. Anne met his steady gaze with her mutely pleading one. Her emotional desolation was forbidden territory, and he knew it. By exposing it, he was exposing her vulnerability.
“You cannot mourn the past forever,” he persisted. “When will your heart stop bleeding for others and resume beating for yourself?”
Anne gripped the doorknob and backed away from his dispassionate but precise observation. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the Mercedes’ dark interior. “I’d better get inside before it starts raining,” she murmured, climbing out of the car to dash for the shelter of the canopied entrance.
With a panther’s speed Kai leaned across the seat. Anne tried to slam the door but his outstretched arm held it ajar. Her heart hammered wildly as she spun and raced the storm.
Chapter 9
After a restless night Anne rose at dawn and dressed by the crimson light streaking the sky. Her cotton plissé suit was crisply tailored to resist even the most wilting heat. Minimal makeup and a neat chignon polished her professional image to perfection. She was determined to bury her personal conflicts under a mountain of work. Only a traffic jam, Hong Kong’s perpetual morning hazard, prevented her from arriving before the janitor for the second day in a row.
The newsroom was a typical open-area office, rife with the buzz of conversation, the clacking of typewriters and the jangling of telephones. By sheer power of concentration Anne ignored the constant minor disruptions. When memories of Kai crowded into her thoughts she forced her attention back to priorities. After several false starts she gradually regained her tunnel vision and was engrossed in refining her notes on Tsuen Wan when the receptionist buzzed her.
“This is Joy at the front desk Did you have an appointment this morning with a Miss Li?”
More than a little perturbed by the interruption, Anne cast a cursory glance at her calendar. “No, I don’t have anyone scheduled.” She started to hang up, then it hit her. “Wait,” she called into the receiver. “What’s her first name?”
“Her name is Mailin Li,” Joy said. “Apparently you gave her one of your business cards while you were in Tsuen Wan yesterday.”
“That’s right.” Anne sighed and reluctantly pushed her notes away. It was beginning to look like one of those days when plans were scattered by the winds of chaos. She should have stayed home with the phone off the hook until she finished the article. “Joy, did I hear an old bear growling in the hall a little while ago?”
“Dick’s in his office right now,” the receptionist confirmed with a laugh.
“Give Mailin a cup of tea and tell her to wait for me,” Anne instructed. An idea was taking shape and it demanded immediate attention. She went in search of her editor.
“Got a minute?” Anne mouthed her request as she peered through Dick’s open door. He was on the telephone, but he waved her into the room. She perched on the edge of a chair to wait for him.
“Have you been working too hard or playing too late?” Dick eyed her with a grin when he hung up the phone.
Anne chose to ignore his blunt reference to the circles under her eyes. In her present mood an answer could lead to an argument. “Has that courier position been filled yet?”
“No.” Dick shook his head, then scanned his calendar. “Joy has some interviews set up for later today, but I’m open to any suggestions you might have.”
Anne hastily sketched the details of Mailin’s predicament, stressing the fact that she was intelligent and spoke excellent English. When Dick agreed to talk with her Anne rose abruptly and ran around the desk to hug him.
“Thanks, Dick I know you won’t be sorry.” Anne beamed triumphantly as she hurried toward the door. It occurred to her that by helping Mailin she would also be proving Kai wrong. His accusation that she was using the refugees for profit still stung. Maybe now he would understand that her concern was genuine. “She’s out front, so I’ll bring her back for an interview.”
From a distance, Mailin looked like an abandoned waif. A clean, faded dress swathed her petite figure. Her graceful hands were folded in her lap, and although her feet didn’t quite reach the floor she sat erectly on the vinyl sofa. When Anne entered the reception area, Mailin stood and clutched a small, wicker satchel to her chest. Her delicate features were shaded by the wide brim of her straw hat, but she was obviously relieved to see a familiar face.
“It grieves me to disturb you, Miss Hunter,” the girl apologized. “If you are busy I will come another day.”
Anne knew what Mailin's brave words cost her in terms of bus fare and gumption, and she was deeply touched. Feeling guilty about her earlier exasperation, she held the girl’s hand. “Nonsense,” she assured her with a smile. “I’m delighted to see you again.”
While she ushered Mailin toward Dick’s office, Anne explained about the vacant courier position. The girl listened raptly, never questioning the hours, the salary or the duties involved. It was clear that desperation had taken a cruel toil. Dick had put his gruff mannerisms and all telephone calls on hold. His uncommon warmth drew Mailin out of her shy shell, and Anne realized that the burly editor was probably thinking of his own daughters living half a globe away. Smugly congratulating herself on a job well done, she left the two of them chatting amiably.
Anne just happened to catch a glimpse of Mailin when she emerged from the interview nearly thirty minutes later. Evidently believing that her exit was an unnoticed one, the young refugee walked with a dejected slump toward the doors that led to the street.
“Mailin, wait!” Fearing the worst and irritated by that possibility, Anne deserted her desk for the second time in less than an hour to chase the girl. “Didn’t he hire you?” Anne bristled when Mailin flinched. “What happened?” she demanded indignantly, prepared to commit mayhem on the girl’s behalf.
“He asked me to begin working tomorrow.” Mailin’s faltering tone and downcast gaze belied the good news.
“That’s wonderful,” Anne exclaimed. She sobered then, perplexed as to the source of Mailin's dismay.
“You accepted his offer, didn’t you?”
The girl shook her head in defeat as two big tears trickled down her cheeks. Pity mingled with affection as Anne watched Mailin adjust the frayed strap of her satchel and sling it over a narrow shoulder.
“I have no place to stay in Hong Kong,” Mailin lamented, wiping her face with the back of her chapped hand. “And no money for bus fare from Tsuen Wan tomorrow morning.” Apparently overwhelmed by it all, she began to cry.
Anne held the girl close, murmuring words of comfort until her gulping sobs subsided into a mild case of hiccoughs. “You can stay with me,” she declared. Although Anne’s tone was firm, she was slightly dazed by her own impetuosity. “I only have one bedroom,” she mused aloud, her mind whirling with the awesome responsibility she was assuming. “But the sofa turns into a bed.”
Tears of gratitude welled in Mailin’s eyes, threatening to spill over into another crying jag. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you, Miss Hunter.”
“If we’re going to live together you have to promise to call me Anne.” Resigned to making the best of it, she covered her typewriter and retrieved her purse. There were groceries to buy, sheets to launder, closet space and furniture to rearrange. The list went on, unfurling to ridiculous proportions.
“I will cook and sweep and scrub your bathroom and kitchen until they shine,” Mailin vowed. Unabashed in her appreciation, she trailed after Anne like an eager puppy, recounting the ways in which she would carry her share of the burden. “And when your handsome man pays a visit,” she summarized with a sly smile, “I will take a slow ferry tour around the island.”
Anne’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she envisioned Kai’s reaction. He would p
robably rush right to her apartment when he returned from South Africa, so Mailin's presence would definitely cramp his style—or at least his intentions. For some reason that thought tickled her.
“Come on, roomie. We’ve got work to do.” Anne snatched Mailin’s hand and the two of them marched out of the building, waving like fools to everyone they passed. It seemed an eon since she had laughed just for the fun of it.
* * * *
A full week into the new living arrangement, Anne reached the conclusion that she had made a horrendous mistake when she had relinquished her autonomy.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” she grumbled as she tiptoed across the freshly vacuumed carpet, monitoring her every cautious step to verify that she wasn’t leaving too many footprints behind to incriminate her. Anne knew without a doubt that she would crumble into a shrieking heap of hysteria if Mailin ran that roaring monster of a machine one more time this week.
“I feel like a trespasser in my own home,” she muttered, gazing nostalgically at her favorite, formerly cozy, corner of the sofa. With a resigned sigh she opted for an uncomfortable straight-backed chair that wouldn’t require a furtive plumping before Mailin returned from the market with another batch of her “surprise” ingredients for their dinner.
The problem, while trivial, was real. It wasn’t that Anne resented sharing her apartment. As the oldest child in a large, destitute family where privacy was an unknown luxury, Mailin had an obsessive respect for solitude. When Anne brought work home in order to meet a deadline, as she had for several nights in a row, Mailin retreated happily into one of the numerous books lining the shelves. Or into one of her scrubbing, straightening, sewing fits, Anne reflected with a wry chuckle. Who’d ever dreamed that pantyhose could be mended?
And it certainly wasn’t one of those situations where their friendship was disintegrating into snarling civility under the stress of full-time exposure. Anne liked Mailin—adored her, in fact. In addition to a staunch spirit in the face of adversity, the young refugee possessed a cloudless disposition and an infectious sense of humor. The two of them had already spent hours laughing, talking and exchanging confidences.
“If only she wasn’t so damned meticulous!” Anne had always prided herself on being tidy, but next to Mailin she felt like an unmitigated slob. “Maybe I’ve just lived alone too long,” she conceded, rising to continue her deliberate trek into the kitchen for a glass of ice water.
“Are you home yet, Anne?” Mailin cheerfully inquired as she slammed and bolted the front door.
“In here,” Anne confirmed. She skidded clumsily across the glossy linoleum and wiped a smudge off the refrigerator, restoring its blinding shine. She glanced around to make certain she hadn’t left any puddles that Mailin would feel obligated to mop up before she began preparing dinner.
“I hope you have not ruined your appetite again with snacks,” Mailin rebuked as she unloaded her handbasket. “Tonight we have a real treat,” she said, rolling her eyes in gustatory anticipation. “Braised eel with bamboo shoots.” She produced long, skinny proof that she was serious and held the grayish-colored fish high in the air for Anne’s perusal.
“This seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for one meal.” Anne could hardly bear to watch as Mailin skinned the eel and chopped it into thick chunks. The Mongolian steamboat sat on the counter, puffing energetically, and she repressed a shudder. “Why don’t I run down to the corner for something quick and then we’ll go to the movies—my treat?”
Mailin shook her head. “I am honored to do this for you,” she insisted firmly, brandishing her large slicing knife for emphasis. “Cooking and cleaning are only small tokens of my appreciation for your generosity.”
“Have it your way,” Anne murmured. She walked to the cupboard, sorry she hadn’t remembered to replenish her cheese and cracker stash, and took out the plates and cups they would use for dinner. “My God,” she gasped. “What’s this?” With a grimace she plucked a ratty looking clump of straw and feathers out of the bottom of Mailin's basket. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up ornithology in your spare time.”
“That is for tomorrow night’s dinner,” Mailin replied. “While you are working on the article at your desk tonight, I will boil this.” Her eyes twinkled and she licked her lips in obvious relish. “Bird’s nest soup is a delicacy, Anne.”
Anne’s face puckered into a frown and she dropped the nest back into the container. She shook her head, wondering if this peculiar sensation in the pit of her stomach even remotely qualified as a virus. Mailin was so eager to please and such a delightful companion. She would be positively crushed if she knew what Anne was thinking.
Mailin babbled happily as she diced mushrooms and spices for her floating potpourri of a meal. It was hard to believe that this self-assured young woman in the smart red courier’s uniform was the same dejected girl who had visited the news agency only ten days ago.
What a miraculous transformation, Anne marveled as she set out their dishes and tried to convince herself that braised eel might actually be palatable. When the telephone rang she made a mad dash toward her desk, banging her shin on a dangerously sharp corner of the coffee table that Mailin had moved when she rearranged the furniture. Maybe something urgent had come up at the office and they wanted her to return immediately!
Hopping on one foot while rubbing the painful bruise, Anne grabbed the receiver. “Hello,” she answered in a breathlessly expectant tone.
“Are you practicing for the Yue Lan Marathon,” asked the deep, wry voice on the other end. “Or have I interrupted an activity of a more provocative nature?”
“Kai!” A quiver darted through her at the sound of his voice. During their separation time had peeled away her angry confusion, exposing a raw nerve of need that ached for satisfaction. “When did you get back? Did you have a good trip? Where—” She winced as she checked her frantic flood of questions, realizing how foolish she sounded.
“I arrived home about twenty minutes ago,” he said. “Miss Dawes insisted on meeting me at the airport with a summary of everything that happened while I was away.” Kai’s warm chuckle transmitted a distinctly sensual message through the thin wire that linked them. “I almost told her to drop me at your apartment,” he continued. “But rather than shock her proper socks off, I let her bring me home.”
Anne laughed as she imagined Miss Dawes’ stone-faced reserve crumbling under the innuendo of such a suggestion.
“I missed you.” An intimate tone underscored Kai’s simple statement “And in half an hour I intend to show you just how much.”
His softly spoken promise sent a thrill of desire racing through her veins. She cradled the receiver closer to her mouth as if this would somehow compensate for their physical distance. “I missed you, too,” she confessed with a husky tremor.
Anne glimpsed a flash of red then from the corner of her eye and her heart plummeted. In the heat of the moment she had completely forgotten about Mailin.
“See you in thirty minutes,” Kai prompted.
“Wait!” Anne’s mind scrambled for an excuse. After the way he had acted at the resettlement center something warned her not to inject Mailin into the picture.
“Is anything wrong?” Kai sounded vaguely irritated at her hesitation.
In a limbo of indecision, Anne weighed her options. No matter how desperately she wanted to share the next few hours with Kai she couldn’t justify sending Mailin out by herself to wander around Hong Kong after dark. “Don’t be angry,” she pleaded, settling finally on the issue that was a constant thorn between them anyway. “But I’ve got to work tonight.” She glanced at the notes piled neatly in front of her on the desk. “A deadline,” she added, lamely beefing up her explanation. This way, at least, he wouldn’t blame Mailin.
The taut silence stretched, nicking at her brittle composure. With a morbid sense of dread Anne wondered if she’d pushed him too far this time.
“Judging from the size of this folder Miss D
awes handed me, I suppose I can manage to keep myself occupied, too.” Despite the impatient note edging his words Kai didn’t sound bitterly disappointed.
Relief fluttered through her. “I’m sorry. I really am,” Anne murmured. She nodded and forced a smile when Mailin signaled that dinner was ready to be served. “Can we try for tomorrow night instead?”
“No.” His abrupt refusal stabbed her like a knife until he said, “But we can—and will—try for the weekend.”
“I’d like that.” Her heartbeat skittered with joy.
“I need to make a trip to West Wind, my home in the New Territories,” Kai said. “If I pick you up tomorrow afternoon we should arrive in time for dinner.”
“My bags are practically packed,” she assured him. “A little vacation would do me a world of good.” Her spirits soared at the idea of leaving all the daily distractions behind her for a while.
“I hate to postpone our reunion any longer than necessary,” Kai said, his voice pitched in a low, verbal caress.
“So do I,” she agreed regretfully. Anne could almost feel his hands on her now, and her knees went weak with her desire for his arousing touch.
“Work hard tonight,” he advised. “Because this weekend we’re going to make up for the time we’ve lost.” His soft chuckle held a seductive note.
A wave of emotion swept through her as Anne realized that Kai had placed her needs above his own. Even as her mind shied away from the awesome implication of his trust, her senses responded to his promise of fulfillment. “I’ll be waiting at my office,” she whispered in farewell.
Chapter 10
The purring Mercedes topped the crest of a hill and Anne was awestruck at the panorama that met her eyes. A wide green valley dotted with small farms swept toward distant rolling hills. The setting sun cast long golden rays over the verdant scene.