The Solitude of Passion (55 page)

“Excellent.” The word of God nourishes in more ways than one. Wish I would’ve thought of that. Bet its more palatable than the stuff they pass off as food.

I thank Mei and give her a deep, long hug.

She points to my arm. “What happen?”

“He did it.” I jab my thumb at Colt. I don’t bother telling her they tried to kill me back home—that there was nowhere safe on earth after all. I leave out the fact I was haunted and needed to see things from a different perspective, that my wife married a man from my nightmares. No point in sharing, really. It’s all going to work itself out the way it’s supposed to. I can feel it.

At least I hope it will.

Colt and I don’t have any luck finding a taxi down to the harbor, so I pay a young boy on a rickshaw to peddle us out. He seems to struggle a bit—hell, he’s downright straining, but most of the way is downhill and makes for wild ride, so I tip him well at the drop off.

“Reminds me of your driving.” I smile over at Colt. He’s out of his element until a group of beautiful women walk by, and he springs into action, following them. “Wrong way.” I spin him toward the water. Hundreds of tiny wooden vessels wobble on the tide, knocking into one another creating a symphony of clattering chimes. An oil slick congeals over the top of the water, creating a patina of lavender and blue.

The boats clank together, bobbing in rhythm. Each one is occupied two to three times overcapacity. I start asking around if anyone knows Gao. The first three ignore me, but eventually someone motions to the other end.

It’s getting hot, we’re thirsty, tired, and I’m trying not to remember that we’ll need to eat more than paper to survive for the next three days, not to mention find our way back to the airport. That alone might take a day.

“Gao?” An old man turns around.

He motions to himself, says a whole string of words I can’t understand.

“I think I got the wrong guy.”

“Mitch?” A familiar voice booms from behind. “Crazy Mitch!”

“Good God, they all know you,” Colton marvels.

We keep our passports and wallets with us but leave our bags on Gao’s boat. It’s surprisingly small with a miniature hole that sleeps one uncomfortably beneath. Looks like we’ll be camping up top, and we’ll barely fit at that.

We head into town and hit a restaurant. Colton eats enough for the next week in the event this is his last meal.

“I have new group.” Gao smiles as he says it. His dark hair is shorn close to his scalp, greying at the temples. Crow’s feet have taken over in the corner of his eyes. He looks as if he’s aged a good twenty years since I last saw him. “I take you tonight. Meet friends.” Gao can’t stop smiling—calls me
Crazy
Mitch
every few seconds and shakes his head in disbelief.

“I didn’t expect you to get out so soon.” I’m not sure I ever expected him to get out—me either for that matter.

“Grandfather die. I finish.”

“I’m sorry, man. They let you out for his funeral?”

“No. He drowned. I come out.”

It takes several seconds for me to absorb this. He took his own life to get Gao out. Damn. No easy exit out of that place ever, except maybe mine, and, of course, all hell broke loose in Mono once I arrived just like Kyle Wong predicted. I’ve no idea what really went down with Gao’s grandfather, but I’m not prying for details either.

“Mei says you gave the book to the boys.”

“They do good.”

“Yes. They might have a high fiber diet, but they’re doing good.”

Gao takes us on a hike into unrecognizable hillsides, dusty streets under a bleary-eyed moon—same one Lee sees. I look back at Colton who’s huffing to keep up.

“He’s taking us to the woods to hack us to pieces,” Colt whispers.

“Yeah, they call it nutritional tourism. What’d you think you were eating?” I blink a smile over at him.

Twenty long minutes later, we arrive at a house up on joists, built into the hillside. People are sardined in the living room, about twenty or thirty at the least. No sitting room, so Colt and I stand near a wall to the back as Gao introduces us.

Colt leans in. “Is this illegal?”

“I’m pretty sure.” The gospel meet and greets usually are.

It’s Gao they were waiting for. He speaks softly as they bow their heads in unison before sitting down and engaging with them for hours, passing out hand written papers with longitudinal characters like it was chocolate.

Maybe this is why I was here in the first place, for Gao, for this, for these people—to share a little hope.

Colt and I sit and listen. Even with the language barrier, you can feel the joy, the peace that flows through each living soul like a conduit straight from above.

I lean into Colt. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty damn lucky to be here.”

A sharp knock erupts at the door. It explodes open, and bodies fly everywhere.

And, in typical Townsend fashion, I think my luck just ran out.

Max

In the heat of the afternoon, while Lee is out picking up the kids, Hudson appears in the kitchen, about as wanted as a burglar. He twists the chair around and takes a seat as if he were an invited guest. If Lee catches him here, she might brand his ass by way of a frying pan.

“Remind me to start locking doors,” I quip. “I hear there’s a murderer on the loose. You missed, by the way.” I save the document I was pecking at and close the laptop.

“I got me some problems.” His lips pull into a line. His tries to run his fingers through his shaggy mane and they snag every few inches. Hudson looks like a wooly mammoth—hell, he’s an insult to wooly mammoths everywhere. He looks bedraggled, unkempt even by Hudson’s standards.

“You got problems, huh? You
think
?” I clench my jaw at what a liability he’s become this past year alone.

“I got three different guys after me, and they all want their dough. Plus, Candi’s missing.”

“Missing? I suggest you check the mall.”

“She’s been gone three fucken’ days bro.”

“Sorry about that.” Not that I’m surprised. Hud’s got a history of women taking off on him. “Look, I don’t have anymore money to give you because you sucked it all out of my ass. Or have you conveniently forgotten that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t suck money out of anything.”

We sit and stare at one another a good long while. Hudson and his wide-eye appeal—honest to God, I think he might be telling the truth. But I’d be a fool to believe him.

“How much did she take?” He looks genuinely disturbed by the idea.

“Hundred grand.”

He knocks the chair over as he bolts up. “She told me she was going to kill me—now I know how.”

“Look, I don’t even want to know why she wants to kill you, but I can assure you, you’ll be plenty safe.”

“Where?”

“Behind bars. I’m turning you in for what you did to Mitch. That’s Stella’s father you almost offed. You’re damn lucky he’s up and running, and not a vegetable or, God forbid, a coffin dweller.”

“I’m not going to prison.” His eyes glaze over. “It was your fucking idea.”

“
That
was never my idea!” I let the words reverberate off the walls.

He jabs his finger into my chest. “I offered to clean up the mess, and you never told me not to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Holy shit. I thought it, may have implied it—
strongly
in fact, but never wanted it to actually happen. Did I? “What’s with Candi?” I change the subject. “She find someone else to leech off?”

“She caught me with some chick. We were fucking, and she came home.”

“In your house? You’re so damn
stupid
. You’ve got all the money in the world, and you couldn’t take her somewhere discrete? No wonder Candi took off. How’d she get access to the account?”

“I put her on. Changed the title to the house.” He lets out hard exhale. “Put her on that, too. She said something about suing for the vineyard.”

“Mark my words she’ll be back for that one, but not before we lose it. You know it’s not even considered theft what she did? She cleaned us out, front and center, and the law is on her side.”

“So you can’t spot me anything?”

“I could spot you a busted jaw.”

He scratches at his chin before heading toward the door. “Got some tricks up my sleeve.”

“Good luck with that.”

“When you calling the cops?” He calls from the door.

“Soon as you piss me off.”

“Good to know.”

Debt collectors are after him, his wife is leaving him, and he’s banking on party tricks to keep himself alive. What I want to know is how in the hell did my life become a mirror image of my brother’s?

It’s hot as a skillet in a fire out in Townsend fields. Thermostat reads over a hundred in the shade, and it’s nearly three in the afternoon.

“Hey!” Lee waves from the parking lot.

I flash the shears in my hand at her and watch as she ambles down the walkway to the tool shed and emerges with a pair of gloves and a rusted pair of clippers.

“You going to cut my hair with those?” Everything in me soars. I’m damn happy to see Lee. Her blonde hair glints like gold in the sun, and her soothing smile cools me.

“Nothing like teamwork.” She lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“You’re so beautiful.” I press my lips over hers, and she doesn’t slap me silly so I take it as a good sign. “You here to help or cut my limbs off?”

“Help. What are we doing?”

“Pruning the branches. I called off the gardeners.” I pause to look past her shoulder as Townsend field commits suicide right before our eyes, much like Mitch. “I put everyone on temporary leave this morning.”

“What a disaster.” She slips from my grasp, despondent. “I really hate this.”

“Come on.” I point over to the vine with the least dehydrated leaves. “Let’s get her done.”

It feels good working side by side with Lee. Watching her move, sneaking glances at me from the other side of the branches. I reach through and grab her wrist, listen as she squeals and breaks free.

“We’ve got miles to go,” she says, getting back to the business of severing dehydrated twigs.