Harry is coming tomorrow,” said Maddy. “You think Ira is stubborn, you wait until you meet Harry.”
“I thought he wasn’t coming until Thanksgiving,” said Asia. “And besides, he always says he’s coming, but he never has.”
“His life is too hectic, that’s the problem,” said Maddy.
“He does try, but something always prevents him at the last minute. But this time, he’s coming for sure.”
Asia’s stomach tightened. That meant that Harry must be really worried about Ira.
She and Maddy were having supper in the café attached to the motel. Asia had eaten most of her meals by herself for the past three days, charging them to their room, while Maddy lived on muffins and sat with Ira. That afternoon, Ira had smiled at Maddy and squeezed her hand with some of his old strength, and Maddy relaxed a little and joined Asia for a bowl of soup.
Asia mulled over the idea of Harry coming while she nibbled on French fries. In a photograph in the living room at Cold Creek he looked about fourteen, and he was wearing coveralls and a floppy hat just like Ira’s. He was standing beside the dark pool under the bridge, grinning and holding up a big trout. When Christmas cards and birthday cards arrived with hastily scrawled messages from Harry, Asia always pictured the boy in the coveralls. It was hard to connect him with the grown-up Harry who worked for a computer company and had lived in Hong Kong with his wife, Joyce, for the past ten years.
Asia thought about the blue airmail letter with Hong Kong stamps that had arrived at the end of May. Maddy had read bits out loud to Ira and Asia on the porch after supper.
Harry’s time in Hong Kong was over and the company was sending him back.
“Back to Cold Creek?” Asia asked, trying to imagine sharing Maddy and Ira with a stranger.
“Back to Southern California,” said Maddy. “That’s what Harry means. His company’s head office is there.” The thin sheets of paper rustled in her hands. “Harry and Joyce will be in California by the middle of July, and they’re coming here for Thanksgiving weekend.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Ira said, “I hope he doesn’t try to stir things up. He knows, doesn’t he?”
“Of course he knows,” said Maddy. Her voice sounded strained.
“Well, I just hope he doesn’t make trouble.”
Asia looked at Ira curiously. “What does Harry know? Trouble about what?” she asked, but Maddy shot Ira a warning look and folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.
None of it made much sense to Asia. For awhile, she wondered if they were worried that Harry would mind that she had his old bedroom. That was all she could come up with, and it was silly when you thought about it. Harry was an adult. Still, something was making Maddy and Ira anxious. But Thanksgiving was ages away, and after a few days Asia forgot all about it.
And now Harry was coming tomorrow instead. Asia pushed away her plate. She had always thought it would be impossible to get sick of fries and gravy. “When will he get here?” she said.
“His plane gets into Vancouver early in the morning. He’s renting a car and will be here right after lunch.” Maddy sighed. “Harry is a fast driver.”
Asia spun the sugar bowl in a circle. “I wonder what Harry will think of me.”
Maddy stirred three sugar cubes into her tea. “Well, he’ll like you a lot,” she said.
Asia thought she saw a tiny flash of fear in Maddy’s eyes.
Her mind drifted back to the peculiar conversation between Ira and Maddy the day Harry’s letter came. She must be imagining things. How could Maddy be afraid of her own son? And what did that have to do with Asia?
The elder Hildebrands visited Ira at the hospital in the morning. Anna and Katya stayed with Asia in the motel room, eating sugary slices of their grandmother’s home-baked apple strudel and watching tv.
“Is it fun living in a motel?” said Katya, bouncing on the bed.
“It’s okay,” said Asia. “The best part is I get to charge anything I want at the cafe.”
She showed Katya all the things that Maddy had bought at the drugstore because they had left Cold Creek in such a hurry—the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner, the travel toothbrushes and the miniature tubes of toothpaste that folded up together, her two new T-shirts.
The Hildebrands came back to the motel to take the girls out for lunch, and then left for home. The room felt empty and lonely without Katya’s bubbly laugh. Asia flicked through tv channels for awhile and then wandered over to the hospital to find Maddy. Each time Asia visited Ira, her heart thumped when she saw his pale gray face and the tubes taped to his sunken chest.
Maddy was dozing in a chair in the corner. Asia sat beside the bed and held Ira’s hand and watched the blinks on the monitor. After a long time, a loud voice and heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the door. A tanned man in a beige suit swept into the room.
Maddy stood up. “Harry!”
He was taller than Asia expected. He crushed Maddy in a huge hug. “You look wonderful, Mother. You don’t look any different at all.”
“I wish that were true,” said Maddy, but she was beaming.
She held his hand tightly. “Ten years is a long time, Harry.”
“Too long,” said Harry.
He looked at Asia, and she realized she had been staring.
She felt her cheeks redden. “This is Asia,” said Maddy.
There was a moment of silence. It felt to Asia as if a heavy dark cloud of disapproval had entered the room. But how could Harry disapprove of her when he didn’t even know her? Then Harry smiled and said brightly, “I’ve brought everyone gifts from Hong Kong. They’re in my suitcase.”
“That’s lovely,” said Maddy.
A movement came from Ira’s bed. He struggled awake, blinking in confusion.
“Give him a minute,” said Maddy. She patted Ira’s arm and said quietly, “Harry’s here, Ira. Harry’s come home.”
Ira licked his dry lips. “Let me see him,” he said in a tremulous voice.
Harry took Asia’s chair beside the bed. He waited while Ira sipped some water, and then plunged into a story about some mix-up over his flight.
There was too much Harry. He filled the whole room.
Asia decided the photograph in the living room at Cold Creek must be a mistake. This couldn’t possibly be the boy with the grin and the fish. She drifted to the window and watched a poodle and a golden retriever playing on the lawn in front of the hospital. Maddy’s knitting needles clicked softly beside her. She’d knitted a few rows every day since she’d read in a magazine that the gentle movement might help her arthritis.
A nurse came in and adjusted the curtains. “Two more minutes, that’s all.” Her face was set.
“I want to talk to you about my father’s medication,” said Harry, following her out of the room. Maddy and Asia found him a few minutes later, leaning over the counter at the nurse’s station, deep in conversation.
Harry rented a room at the Rainbow Motel next to Maddy and Asia’s. They had dinner in the café. Maddy and Asia ordered the special—hamburger steak with mashed potatoes—but Harry said it was too hot for hamburger and asked for a house salad.
“Mother,” he said, while they waited for their order, “what’s this I hear about an onion under Father’s bed?”
Uh-oh, thought Asia. She busied herself with folding and unfolding her napkin.
“Everyone knows that a cut onion under a sick person’s bed will help him get better faster,” said Maddy.
“Everyone doesn’t know that. Just you, it seems. The nurse told me there was an odd smell every time she went into the room, and she was not happy when she found the onion.”
Asia sipped her ice water and peeked at Maddy. Maddy had set her chin. She could be just as stubborn as Ira when she needed to be. “That nurse doesn’t know twiddle,” she said.
Harry leaned forward. “And you have to stop pestering the nurses about moving Father’s bed. It’s ridiculous.”
“You can insist all you like, but a bed facing north and south brings bad luck.” This time Maddy’s voice faltered, and Asia realized with a pang that Harry was wearing her down.
Was this what Ira meant when he said he hoped Harry wouldn’t stir things up, wouldn’t cause trouble? Asia had a queasy feeling that there were lots of things about Harry she didn’t know yet.
The meals came and Asia picked at her food, only half listening to Harry’s stories of Hong Kong. She sighed. When you thought about it, eating in restaurants was very overrated. What she really wanted was to go home.