Tangled Vines (35 page)

As the woman spoke softly yet confidently, Li Jin peeked at the man who claimed to be her father and saw something she’d not noticed before. In his old but kind face she could see familiar eyes and the same stubborn tilting jaw she knew so well. Even the nose was a larger version of one she’d come to adore. The similarity between him and Jojo was almost uncanny. She looked at the old woman holding her cup of tea. Even though her fragile hands shook nervously, Li Jin could see what her own hands would look like in the years to come. She looked back at the old man and their eyes met. He had seen her examining their features and Li Jin felt like he knew what she was thinking. A small smile started on his face and gradually spread bigger. She was astonished at what she saw there. It was pride—coming from looking at her!

As they waited for her to speak she realized something. Their features, the flood of emotion, and the smile he wore told her something that no words could—they told her that maybe this
was
her father and the woman he hovered over protectively could really be her mother. She suddenly wanted to know more.

Li Jin reached down and pulled off her shoe, then showed her foot to the couple. Lao Calli, as she’d said she was called, looked at the dainty flower etched on her heel and began to cry again.

Jojo saved the moment from becoming too much by bursting through the door.

“Ma! Come with me and Auntie Wan to Moon Pond! She said there’s fish there!”

Li Jin smiled at him, then patted the empty chair beside her. She studied his dear little face, then looked at the man across from him
.
Yes, it was clear. She’d never before seen another person who carried her son’s facial features. Never before until now. She felt something shift inside her and wondered if it was the burden of resentment finally lifting, after years of feeling abandoned. Whatever it was, she was going to embrace it. Her heart felt lighter and a smile worked its way across her face, probably the most genuine and heartfelt smile she’d ever worn. She squeezed Jojo close to her and whispered in his ear, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Okay, I will. But first sit down and let’s get to know your grandparents. I’m sure your Ye Ye would like to take you fishing.”

“
My
Ye Ye? He’s my Ye Ye?” Jojo asked, looking from his mother to the old man, his eyes open wide. “For real? Ma, are you telling the truth?”

Li Jin laughed softly, then nodded. “I sure am, Jojo. And that woman right there”—she pointed at the old woman—“the one who brought you such a long way back to me, she is your
real
Nai Nai. Jojo, I know this is going to sound like another fairy tale, but I’ve finally found my mother and father.”

With those words, the old woman’s body began to shake with sobs, and the man pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her. Li Jin’s own tears started and before she could react, Lao Calli stood and made her way over to her.

Li Jin stood and she stared into her mother’s eyes, searching for truth in them. Jojo clung to her, somehow knowing she needed his support. Only a second passed but she felt a lifetime of questions suddenly answered between them. With that she let herself be pulled against her mother’s chest, something she never thought she’d experience. Then Lao Benfu—
her father
—was up and enveloping all of them, his arms wrapping around them like the protective branches of an old oak tree as in that moment, they became what she’d always longed for—a family.

Enjoy a Sneak Peek of Book III of the Tales of the Scavenger’s Daughters. Coming soon from Lake Union Publishing.

L
ily shivered as she pulled her Ye Ye’s jacket tighter around the stiff clothes they’d made her put on. The sterile smell of the room mixed with what reeked of old urine was nauseating, and she filtered her breath through her mouth as she waited. She listened intently, hoping the sound of footsteps wouldn’t come. She’d been crouching on the icy cold floor in the corner for hours, ever since that nasty excuse for a man had slammed the door on her. The turning of the lock and his threats to return later that night still rang in her ears. She felt a wave of revulsion remembering how he’d taunted her, coming close enough that she could smell his rancid breath as he hissed what he’d like to do to her.

But she wouldn’t let him touch her—he’d have to kill her first. If he thought because she was blind she wouldn’t be able to defend herself, he was in for a surprise because she’d fight until there was no breath left in her. She’d pull from that place deep within her, the reserve that so far had kept her from becoming hysterical. Ivy would be proud of her for being so strong. When she’d wished for independence she hadn’t meant this—being jerked away from her sister and sentenced for something she hadn’t even done. She only wished she could go back and live the morning again, just start completely over.

Her face burned with shame. It was her own fault. Given another chance, she’d do it differently and stay within the protection of her family—she’d forget her
independence
nonsense.

Her ears perked as she heard the faint slapping of plastic slippers coming closer. She reached out and pulled the mattress from the bed, then crouched under it. If it was him, maybe he’d think she’d been moved to another room. As she waited, a high-pitched shriek filled the hall and then her room. A chill went through her at the sound, a scream that could only be triggered from complete torture or hysteria.
What were they doing to that poor woman?
She tried to still the new onset of trembling.

She would not let them break her.

She would not let them break her.

She would not let them break her.

S
ign up for Kay Bratt’s newsletter on her website to be notified when new books in the Tales of the Scavenger’s Daughters are released.

R
ed Guards, [
AsianHistory.about.com
]………During the
Cultural Revolution
(1966–1976),
Mao Zedong
mobilized groups of young people to enforce communist dogma and rid the nation of the so-called “Four Olds”—old customs, old culture, old habits, and old ideas. Millions of youths formed groups known as “Red Guards.” The first Red Guards groups were made up of students, ranging from elementary school to university students. As the Cultural Revolution gained momentum, mostly young workers and peasants joined the movement as well.

The Red Guards destroyed antiques, ancient texts, and Buddhist
temples, and publicly humiliated teachers, monks, former landowners, or anyone else suspected of being “counter-revolutionary.” Thousands of people were killed outright, and many more committed suicide as a result of their ordeal.

T
angled Vines
, book two in the Tales of the Scavenger’s
Daughters series, was a story that begged to be written. Research for this story taught me a lot about the plight of abused women in China. Some, like Li Jin, fall into the trap of being drug mules as a way to improve their quality of life. Anyone involved in drugs should be punished accordingly,
but, sadly, many Asian women have faced execution because of choices made out of desperation. My heart goes out to their families.

I also wanted to bring attention to domestic abuse. As a survivor myself, I’ve found that burying those shameful memo
ries is a woman’s first instinct, but I also know to stop the madness we must acknowledge it happens in every circle. On a brighter note, in Linnea’s story of success I wanted to emphasize for readers the amazing sense of entrepreneurship the Chinese people have. I spent more than four years living in China, and I still marvel at the multiple small businesses many Chinese locals juggle in their quest to raise their family’s status in life. They are an astonishingly resilient people, and my time in Asia changed my own perspective on life and encouraged me to reach for my own dreams. In real life, the concept for Linnea’s T-shirts was inspired by Dominic Johnson-Hill, the creative director of Plastered, who in 2005 started creating T-shirts that incorporated iconic imagery from China’s streets in a celebration of everything beautiful about China. Plastered T-shirts are available in Beijing and online at
www.plastered.com
.

If you enjoyed this book, a short review posted on Amazon or GoodReads would be much appreciated. Also, please visit
kaybratt.com
to sign up for my newsletter, which will notify you of new releases, including
Bitter Winds,
the next book in this series.