The Wishing Trees (32 page)

“And it tastes like chicken. Cluck, cluck, cluck.”

“Yuck.”

Georgia turned from the girls to Ian, who held a menu but was looking at Holly’s painted fingernails. “Do you know what you want?”

“No, not yet. My mind’s as stuck as a cat in a tree.”

She opened her own menu, thinking about the time their two families had spent together in Disney World. Ian had been wonderful—entertaining the girls, going on all the rides with them. She had been so happy for Kate, because Kate had found a man like Ian. Georgia didn’t believe that many such men existed. Half the fathers she knew would rather spend a Saturday afternoon on a golf course than be with their families. Ian, Kate had always told her, was the opposite. Though running his company often consumed him, once his work was done, his family became the center of his universe.

And yet now he seemed different. Of course, that was to be expected after Kate’s death. But he also appeared uncomfortable, as if a part of him regretted being here. Georgia continued to look over the list of entrees as the girls laughed about snakes. For a reason unknown to her, she remembered asking her husband to make love to her when she was five months pregnant. They’d been eating dinner, and her suggestion had caught him off guard. He had avoided her eyes and spoken of unfinished work. At first Georgia had thought that her pregnancy made her less desirable in his eyes. But as the weeks had passed, he’d grown increasingly distant. He came home from work sad and returned to work happy. Nothing had made sense—at least until Georgia met his intern at an exhibition’s opening and saw how they looked at each other.

In many ways, Ian now acted the same way Frank had. Ian seemed distracted and distant, glancing toward the skyline, perhaps wanting to be somewhere else. His body leaned away from hers, as if the proximity of their legs was something to carefully heed. He appeared more ill at ease than he had at the park, and she wondered what had changed. She didn’t want him to be uncomfortable, and without crossing any lines, she hoped to put him at ease.

“It’s okay, Ian,” she said quietly, leaning closer to him. “All of this is okay.”

Looking up from his menu, he glanced at the girls, and then at Georgia. He didn’t know if she was right, but he understood that for Mattie’s sake, he needed to brighten up. “I’m sorry,” he replied, nodding. “I was just . . . trying to decide whether to order the sea slugs or the bird’s-nest soup.”

Georgia smiled. “I wouldn’t try the slugs. They taste like slimy rubber.”

“Did you hear that, Roo?” he asked. “Georgia recommends the sea slugs.”

“Far from it,” Georgia replied, lifting her wineglass.

Mattie shook her head, her braids rising and falling. “I don’t trust anything he says.”

Georgia set down her drink. “You’re a smart girl.”

The waitress came and took their orders. Mattie removed a red pencil from her bag and began to draw a bowl containing live snakes on the paper place mat in front of Holly. The girls continued to laugh, and Ian was pleased to see Mattie acting her age, being silly and immature and a little too loud. This was how she had acted every day before Kate had gotten sick. This was his little girl.

“I reckon you’re going to spoil Holly’s appetite, Roo,” he said. “Should you draw something else?”

“No way, Captain,” Mattie replied, handing Holly a blue pencil.

“I’ll do the sea slugs,” Holly answered. “They can have a party with your snakes.”

“Sounds fun.”

Ian smiled, inwardly thanking Georgia for reminding him of what was so obvious—that Mattie was enjoying herself. “You’re right,” he said, lifting his glass in Georgia’s direction. “This is good.”

She sipped her wine. “We’ve been friends for a long time,” she said softly. “And there’s no reason why we can’t continue to be friends. That’s all I want. So don’t worry.”

“I’ve got a thick Australian skull. Sometimes, I reckon, things need to be spelled out for me.”

“Kate was good at that.”

“She was a bloody genius at that.”

“And do you know what else?”

“What?”

“You’re a wonderful father. To bring Mattie here, halfway around the world. To do what you’re doing.”

He didn’t turn from her stare. “You did the same thing.”

“I ran away.”

“No. That’s not what you did at all. What you did took a heap of guts. And look at you now . . . all polished and refined. An international banker. A lovely little girl by your side. Whatever you did . . . it worked out quite well. And I reckon that wasn’t by chance.”

Georgia smiled as Mattie drew a bird’s nest. “She’s good. Really good.”

“You’re as right as rain, though I have no idea where that skill came from. Neither Kate nor I could draw a proper stick figure.”

“Daddy has two left hands,” Mattie said, giggling.

“Watch it, you little bugger.”

The waitress returned with steaming appetizers and soon a tray of oversized entrees. The food was set down and split among everyone. Mattie ate the sea bass, the glass shrimp, the sweet and sour bok choy—everything but the snake soup. Like the dozens of families around them, Ian, Mattie, Georgia, and Holly smiled and shared stories, dining on ancient recipes as the sky darkened.

When dinner finally ended, they stepped outside the building, and Mattie and Holly begged to reunite the next day. Since that would be Saturday, Georgia welcomed the idea. Ian went along with it as well, helping to plan their rendezvous. Farewells were exchanged, Mattie and Holly hugging like a pair of best friends. While Georgia and Holly hailed a taxi, intending to swing by a bookstore, Mattie and Ian walked toward the escalators, which were all going up.

Mattie took her father’s hand, leading him across a street, stepping onto an escalator. “That was fun,” she said, rocking forward and backward on her feet, reminding him of the ants-in-her-pants little girl she’d once been.

“Holly is sweet, isn’t she?”

“She makes me laugh.”

“I reckon you make each other laugh.”

Mattie nodded. “Daddy?”

“What, luv?”

“I think . . . I think Mommy’s happy that we’re here.”

“You do? What makes you say that?”

Mattie pursed her lips as the escalator continued to roll uphill. “Because we’ve been telling her. We’ve been leaving our messages in the wishing trees. And I’m sure she’s glad to see them.”

Ian heard the innocence, the beauty, and the faith within Mattie’s words. He wanted to share the same thought, to believe what she believed. He felt the softness of her hand against his, her small palm fitting so easily within his own. She was a part of him and a part of Kate, and the best link to what remained of them. Thinking about this link, he wondered if Mattie understood things that he didn’t, if her connection to Kate at that moment was stronger than his.

He squeezed her hand. “I’ve seen some good wishing trees here, up in the mountains.”

“Me too.”

Bending down, he kissed her forehead. “Want a lift, luv?”

“Sure, Daddy.”

He picked her up, raising her over his head to put her legs on his shoulders. “How about finding some ice cream, Roo? Feel like a little walkabout before heading back to the hotel?”

“You think they have cookies and cream?”

“I reckon they have everything in this city.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Aye, aye, First Mate,” he said, holding tight to her legs, stepping off the escalator and into a world that continued to confound and perplex him, as if he were a ten-year-old boy and not a man who’d seen four decades come and go.

AT HALF PAST TEN THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Ian and Mattie met Georgia and Holly atop one of the main escalators. The girls greeted each other with hugs. Ian and Georgia’s embrace was much stiffer—a forced merging of two bodies and minds that didn’t know what to do with each other. Stepping onto the escalator along with a never-ending stream of locals, the foursome began their descent toward the city. They had decided to shop at one of Hong Kong’s most famous markets, return to Georgia’s apartment, let the girls take a swim, and then have dinner together.

Ian had spent half the night sitting near the window of their hotel room, Kate’s most recent letter in his lap. He had read her poem time and time again, still stung by her words, no longer necessarily feeling betrayed, but certainly disappointed. Did she think that he could so easily fall in love? Would she have dated nineteen months after his death?

Now, as he held a coffee cup and descended into the city, Ian watched Georgia and Holly, noting their fashionable attire. They wore oversized sun hats and sleeveless dresses. Ian didn’t remember Georgia owning such nice outfits when they’d seen her in Manhattan, but maybe living in Hong Kong had rubbed off on her. Many of the young women nearby looked as if they were eager to compete in some sort of modeling contest. Deciding that he should take Mattie shopping for a proper dress, Ian squeezed her hand and hoped that she didn’t feel out of place.

As Georgia chatted with the girls, Ian thought about her tears after her husband’s affair. Ian had seen those tears. He’d heard them. She was ruined but now seemed somehow redeemed. She had a successful career and a happy daughter, and acted confident and poised. How had she come so far? Was she so much stronger than he?

Holly, walking purposefully and holding Mattie’s hand, led them from escalator to escalator. Responding in Mandarin to the street vendors who hawked food, clothes, and sunglasses, Holly hurried across a busy street, ignoring a red light. Growing up in Manhattan, Mattie knew that traffic lights were often disregarded, but that her father wouldn’t have liked her to run across such a street. Surprised that Georgia didn’t say anything, Mattie continued to hold Holly’s hand.

Mattie’s gaze darted into the stores they passed. She’d woken up thinking of Rupee, feeling as if she had deserted him. Did he miss her? Was he lonely? She worried about him, and after breakfast she and her father had sent an e-mail to the orphanage’s director, inquiring about Rupee’s well-being.

Seeing the wealth around her, Mattie wondered why some people were rich and Rupee was poor, why most children had mothers and hers was gone. She didn’t understand the unfairness of the world, even though she had asked her father about it many times. She wasn’t sure that he understood it either. When she asked him such questions, his answers came after long pauses, after his gaze had wandered around and come back to hers.

Deciding to find Rupee something at the market, Mattie hurried alongside Holly, feeling much younger than her friend, even though she wasn’t. Holly seemed to act at least thirteen years old, Mattie decided. She knew her way around Hong Kong. She could speak Mandarin. She wore makeup and had her ears pierced.

What Mattie didn’t realize was that she and Holly were similar. Since her father had left, Holly had watched other children. She’d wished that she lived with another family. She had hurt. But as the years had passed, she’d witnessed how her mother dealt with pain, and she had mimicked her mother—working hard, dressing nicely, pushing herself to be better and better and above criticism. When they had arrived in Hong Kong, Holly had never felt so out of place. Even with her school uniform, she looked the opposite of her classmates. She felt the opposite. And so she had learned, working on her Mandarin after school, doing her best to talk with locals, attempting to follow their customs and not her own.

To Holly’s surprise, after a few months, something wonderful had happened—the locals had accepted her. They’d helped her with her pronunciation. They’d taught her how to haggle, how to use the bus system, where the best hiking trails were located. Her mother had always been with her, of course, but Holly became their leader. And entire weeks passed when she didn’t even think about her father. Thinking about him only made her sad.

Holly guided Mattie past a pair of red gates and into an immense outdoor market. The first section they encountered was known by locals as “the dry area.” Wanting to shock her friend, Holly walked up to one of her favorite stands, which featured dried seafood. The gray-and-white skin of a large shark hung from a nearby rack, the skin spread open in the shape of a kite.

Mattie looked up from the cobbled street, jumping backward when she spotted the shark. Holly laughed. “It’s been hanging there a week. Don’t worry.”

The shark’s skin was perfectly intact, its gills and fins shining in the sun. “Why?” Mattie asked. “Why is that shark there?”

Ian and Georgia moved closer, Ian smiling at the look on Mattie’s face. “This man sells dried shark to restaurants,” Holly said, pointing to a vendor who appeared to be as old as the worn cobblestones at their feet. “They love to eat shark here. Love it, love it, love it.”

Mattie studied the rest of the man’s stall, which was covered with dried squid, octopus, fish, eels, and shrimp. She smiled at the vendor, who said something in Mandarin to Holly. Nodding, Holly giggled and replied in the same tongue. “What did he say?” Mattie asked.

“He asked if you like sharks.”

“Not to eat.”

“That’s what I told him.”

Holly said good-bye to the vendor and again took Mattie’s hand, leading her deeper into the market. Many other stalls offered dried seafood—row after row of headless fish hanging by their tails from thick ropes. Holly turned to her right, proceeding down a different alleyway. Suddenly everything changed—stalls now offered immense displays of fruit and vegetables. Baskets held watermelons, apples, pears, oranges, kiwis, and many fruits that Mattie had never seen before.