He looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but then so was I. He wore the same white shirtsleeves, rolled up, and his trousers were held up by suspenders. He was grinning and shaking his head back and forth.
“How are you, Owen?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, at the same time turning and looking around anxiously. “Come, let’s walk somewhere. I’ve got something for you.”
He took my arm and we walked about a hundred yards away from the tracks where a long, shaded walkway to the monastery’s Hall of Incense began. There were ancient cypress trees on both sides and it was paved with square-cut stones. We walked a short distance and stopped. We were standing between two massive stone lions, facing each other across the walkway. The late afternoon light was broken and made the lions look as freckled as Owen Bramley.
He unbuttoned his shirt and reached inside for something. “Carolina Covington gave this to me for me to give to you. I told her I would, but until now, I never knew how.” He grinned again and handed me a letter. It was coffee-stained and wrinkled, but still sealed and intact. There was only one thing scratched across the back. “Z.”
I know of nothing more treasured than a letter from someone you love. Its very presence has power. I held the letter from Carolina as if it were older and rarer than the bones of the one who had carved the stone lions I was standing between. I was astonished. I couldn’t move. I looked up at Owen Bramley.
“How did you. when were you. what are you doing here?” I stammered.
He laughed and took his glasses off, wiping them clean.
“I met her in St. Louis while visiting Solomon,” he said. “A remarkable woman, that one. When I told her I was coming to China, she took me in her confidence and entrusted me with the letter. She was ecstatic that I might see you, though privately, as I told you, I had my doubts. Anyway, there you are and here I am. How are you. progressing?”
“There are good days and bad,” I said, trying to be honest, but having no real way to answer him. “Why are you in China? I know it’s not just to find me.”
“Actually, I came as a favor for my parents to begin with, but now it has turned into something else. We have relatives, my aunt and uncle, the Reverend William and Daphne Croft from Cornwall, who moved to China thirty years ago as missionaries. When my parents heard the rumors of this uprising in China and that Christian missionaries were being slaughtered by the Boxers or whatever these hooligans are called, they asked me if I would help get the Crofts out of China. Of course I said I would, but I had no idea I’d be taking out twenty-nine children as well.” He paused for a moment and looked toward the train, which was close to being repaired. “Z, as a foreigner, you should be very careful in China these days. It is dangerous and it’s going to get worse. There may be a war.”
“The Chinese think we’re Tibetan Buddhists,” I said.
“Just don’t slip up. These Boxers are fanatics. I don’t trust a one of them. Tz’u-hsi, the Empress Dowager, thinks they might bring the old China back with their lunatic magic. She might be as crazy as they are. Anyway, it’s time to leave China, not stay. Have you thought about it?”
“No, it’s not possible. We still have unfinished business. But tell me, how is Pello and. how did Eder take the news?”
Just then, Sailor seemed to appear out of nowhere and walked up beside us. He acknowledged Owen Bramley with a nod and said, “Please, go on.”
Owen Bramley hesitated for a moment. Then he answered. “Pello is fine. He walks with a limp, but he is well and back at Kepa’s.” He turned to face Sailor directly. “Eder is. brokenhearted. Kepa said she is well, but very sad. However, Ray is with her and Nova keeps them both very much alive.”
Sailor looked down at the cracks between the ancient paving stones, then up to Owen Bramley. “Good,” he said.
The train blew its whistle long and loud, signaling that the repairs were finished and it was time to board. We all looked in the direction of the children and they were frantically trying to pull in their kites. Geaxi was standing next to the boy Owen Bramley had handed his kite to earlier. They were both looking our way, the boy almost frozen, like one of the stone lions.
We started back toward the train. Owen Bramley said, “Listen, Z, I have a contact, don’t ask me who or how, but it’s the best, inside the Forbidden City, inside the imperial palace itself. If I ever have to reach you outside normal channels, I will use this contact and I guarantee you will get my message. How soon is another matter.”
We reached the train and it was five minutes of Chinese chaos gathering kites, counting the children, and making sure all were back on the train. The boy Geaxi was standing by barely moved the whole time and seemed to be transfixed by me. In five more minutes, they were all accounted for and the train steamed forward toward the hills and eventually Tsingtao. Owen Bramley waved once. The same boy leaned out of his window and stared at me until the train was completely out of sight. I turned to Geaxi and said, “Who was that kid? And why was he staring at me?”
A mischievous grin was spreading across Geaxi’s face. “His name is Willie Croft,” she said, “and I told him you were Buddha.”
Sailor chuckled and we all stood there, staring up the empty tracks and listening to the last echoes of the disappearing train. Six hours later, I was on a cot in the monastery and I tore open Carolina’s letter. By candlelight, I read it slowly, five times.
My only Z,
I am writing to you, hoping and praying this will reach you. Solomon said not to worry, that Owen Bramley would somehow accomplish the task. He is a nice man and told me as he took the letter that it would not leave his person until he handed it to you. If you are reading this, then our luck still holds and he has found you.
I ache for you, for your presence, but not in a sad or painful way. I am so happy, Z, I feel so wonderful I am about to burst with joy.
I have met a man, a good man, a man I can love. I know you would approve. He is a sportswriter for the Post and loves baseball. And me, of course!
I met him out of the blue while attending a game at Sportsman’s Park (the Cardinals need pitching, by the way). Solomon and I have got box seats and season tickets, but that day I was alone. In the third inning, he simply sat down, unasked and unannounced, and passed me a box of Cracker Jacks, never taking his eyes off the field. I never said a word, nor did he, and I was in love by the fifth inning. That was last year. I would have written to you sooner, but I wanted to wait, wait and see if what I felt was real. It is real, Z, and now I have even more wonderful news. I found out the day before yesterday I am going to have a baby. A baby, Z! Can you believe it? And I always thought you were the crazy one.
God, I wish you were here. I have so much more to tell you, so much I wish I could share with you. I pray every day that you are well and will remain so. I do miss you terribly. I even think Georgia misses you, wherever she is. I don’t hear her playing as often as I used to.
From my heart of hearts,
Carolina
PS. His name is Nicholas and the “business” is doing well, thank you very much.
That letter cleansed my soul and cleared a dark window I’d been afraid to look through. I’d thought of her so often, worried and wondered, and now I knew. I was overjoyed for her. I carried that letter and read it every day for six months. It became a talisman, a lucky charm, and it served me well.
Owen Bramley was right about war. Through June, July, and August, there was a war, of sorts. They called it the Boxer Rebellion, but it was really an ineffectual attempt by China to stave off the inevitable. China was an old woman falling down and the Western powers were going to help her, not to get up, but to stay down. The Boxers and their belief in old magic and the notion that bullets would turn away from their holy bodies as they killed Christians were only crazy examples of China’s refusal to accept change, both good and bad, especially the imperial family and the “Old Buddha.” The Boxers could be dangerous, however, and we tried to avoid them. And cities. And trains. Sailor said the Meq had no place in Giza politics and their penchant for barbarism and war. I said what about the Fleur-du-Mal and Sailor said that was what made him “aberrant.”