By the time the Chicago snow fell, Mai was no longer able to work and was at home. She was weak, thin, and pale, but the doctor had prescribed strong pills that took most of the pain away. She tried to get up, at least for a few hours a day to watch the snow, but she mostly lay on her sofa in the living room. She was dozing when Đêm Nguyệt and Joe Hunter returned late one afternoon.
Joe had called her as soon as he got her letter and the Purple Heart. He told her how happy he was to hear from her. “I would love to meet Witt,” he said. He no longer lived with his mother and had rented an apartment off Irving Park Road, not far from Mai’s apartment. Within a week he was taking him to basketball practice after school and showing him tricks so he’d never miss a layup.
Witt went to his room to start his homework. She and Joe were alone. “You don’t know how many times I waited for your call or letter,” he began. “I never stopped thinking about you. I was devastated to hear your sad news.” His eyes turned glassy, as if he was holding back tears. Mai sat up awkwardly and patted the seat cushion next to her.
“I wish you had called me when you arrived,” he went on. “You know I wanted to, well ... I wanted—”
She leaned toward him and stroked the hair on his forehead. She gave him a sad smile. “The Buddha had another path for us. Maybe in the next world . . .”
His tears spilled over, but rather than comforting him, Mai scolded him. “No, Joe. You must be strong. Witt needs you to be. I hope you will play a huge part in his life.”
He wiped his eyes with the arm of his shirt. “You can bet on it. What about your sister?”
“She will be his primary guardian. But he needs a strong man to lean on.”
He nodded. “I’m honored you chose me.”
She took him into her arms then, and they embraced, neither of them in a hurry to break away.
A key rattled the lock, and Chị Tâm came in, her cheeks red, snowflakes on her coat. “Tell me, Mai,” she said in English, “what evil spirit has cursed Chicago with this snow?”
Both Joe and Mai laughed. Tâm went into the kitchen to brew tea. Joe said he had to get home but would pick Witt up again tomorrow. Mai shot him a grateful glance. He went in to say goodbye to Witt, shrugged into his coat, and left.
“We’ll have to make him a key, you know,” Mai said.
“I’ll do that tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
Tâm brought the tea out. “How are you feeling?” She plumped some cushions so Mai could rest against them and handed her the tea.
Mai took a sip and set it down on an end table. “I am so glad you and Đêm Nguyệt are getting to know each other.”
“He’s a whirlwind of energy and curiosity. He has your determination.”
Mai smiled. “But, Chị Tâm, you must remember he is only ten. He still needs a mother.” She blinked. “Are you ready for that?”
“Does he know?”
Mai shook her head. “I haven’t been able to tell him. Yet.”
“He may sense something,” Tâm said. “Children can feel seismic changes in their lives well before adults.”
“Did we?” Mai asked. “You had all those conversations about the war with Papa. Did you feel our world was about to explode?”
Tâm raised her eyebrows. “I must have. On some level. Perhaps that’s why . . .” She let her voice trail off.
Mai changed the subject. “I’d like you to teach him about flowers and trees . . . and fishing.” Mai raised her wrist.
Tâm gave her a wry smile. “Better me than you.”
“I never pretended to be a fisherman,” Mai shot back. But she lightened the retort with a giggle. Then she grew serious. “Chị Tâm, you already know I want you to raise him when I’m gone. You are his aunt. But you will also be his legal guardian. My lawyer has drawn up the papers.”
“I would be honored, Mai.” Tâm paused. “But I would hate my—my situation to cause trouble for your son. It may be too risky.”
“Life is full of risks. Look at me. Three months ago, who would have thought I would get sick?”
“But as you said then,” Tâm said, “actions have consequences. And sometimes there are years between one and the other.”
“I know what I said,” Mai said. “But we—you—can’t live in fear. I never did before Đêm Nguyệt was born. I was sure I could solve any problem. Overcome any obstacle. I was arrogant. Certain I would survive. Even prosper. After Đêm Nguyệt came into my life, though, I had something to lose. The stakes were higher. And I knew fear.” She pulled an afghan draped over the back of the sofa close around her. “Most of it was the war. Its uncertainty, chaos, and terror. Now the war is over, and it’s time to put fear behind us. Neither of us can control the future. If trouble comes, it will. But if you love Đêm Nguyệt half as much as I, you’ll know the right thing to do if danger knocks on the door.”
“You have grown into a brave woman, Linh Mai. I wish I had your courage. Are you sure about this?”
“You will find the courage. You are my sister. My family. Who else is there?”
“We have wasted so many years.”
Mai shrugged. “You were doing what you thought was right. So was I.” She cleared her throat but could not stop coughing. “I am tired. I should lie down. But there is one other matter we need to discuss.”
Tâm, inclining her head, reached for a glass of water and handed it to Mai.
“I have a buyer for the nail salons. I am going to sell them.”
Tâm almost dropped her glass. “What?”
“I want you to buy a flower store with the proceeds.”
“How can you say that? The salons are your life.”
“The doctor thinks the cancer is probably because of the poisonous chemicals at the salons. I don’t want you or Đêm Nguyệt exposed to them. And you know so much about flowers.”
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
“I will leave the flower store to Đêm Nguyệt in my will. But you will run it. When he is old enough, he can decide whether to keep it. He may not want it. In that case, it will be yours. If you expand, which I hope you will, they will provide you with a good income. But—” She coughed again. “You will need to learn how American bookkeeping works.”
At that moment, Đêm Nguyệt bounded into the room. “Do you need a cough drop, Mama?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a package of cherry-flavored lozenges. “Here.”
Mai tousled his hair and took the cough drop. “Luckily I know exactly the right person to teach you.”
“Teach what?” Đêm Nguyệt said.
“Will you and Joe teach Auntie Tâm about American bookkeeping? And arithmetic? How we count. Add and subtract. Multiply.”
“Me? I will teach her?”
“You will. She is going to work at a flower shop soon. Is that all right with you, Chị Tâm?”
“Only if Đêm Nguyệt teaches me.” She grinned at him.
Witt’s chest billowed with pride. “I will. I will be the best teacher.”
“I know you will,” Tâm said.
“You know, Tâm,” Mai cut in. “I think many women would love to buy beautiful flowers to hold in their beautiful hands.”
“Perhaps,” Tâm murmured. Her own flower shop. She was afraid to let herself dream of something so full of joy. She couldn’t bear to be disappointed. Then again, she was in America. Free to do whatever she chose. She had her sister’s example to inspire her.
Tâm looked over at Witt, who had brought a book with him. “What is your book about, Đêm Nguyệt?”
“It is a book of stories.”
He gave it to Tâm, who opened it up. “It’s in Vietnamese.”
“Uncle Vinh gave it to me.”
Tâm shot Mai an inquiring look. Mai replied with a small smile and shook her head. “Not now.”
“Why not, Mama?”
“No, not you, Witt. Something else. Of course Auntie Tâm will read you a story, won’t you?”
Đêm Nguyệt smiled and settled himself on the floor. Tâm opened the book.
She read. “Once there was a young, beautiful fairy who lived high in the mountains. Her name was Âu Cơ. She was very skilled in medicine and had a compassionate heart. So she traveled the world to help those who were sick.”
“People like Mama . . .” Đêm Nguyệt said.
“Yes,” Tâm said. “Like your mother.”
“One day, a monster suddenly appeared beside her. It frightened her so much that she tried to escape by turning herself into a crane. Lạc Long Quân, the dragon king from the sea, passed by, but what he saw was a beautiful lady in danger, so he grabbed a rock and killed the monster.
“Âu Cơ turned back into a fairy and instantly fell in love with her benefactor. And he with her. Soon she laid one hundred eggs, from which hatched a hundred children.
“Soon, though, despite their love for each other, Âu Cơ wanted to live in the mountains but Lạc Long Quân yearned to be near the sea. So they separated, each taking fifty children. Âu Cơ settled in mountainous northern Vietnam, where she raised fifty young, intelligent, strong leaders, who later became Hùng kings, the fathers of Vietnam.”
Đêm Nguyệt clapped his hands.
Tâm smiled. “Now, why don’t you look at the pictures?” She turned to Mai, who had closed her eyes. Tâm moved her chair closer and took Mai’s hand. It was dark outside, but a silver blue half-moon angled into the windows of the room, spilling a ghostly light onto Mai’s face.
“Âu Cơ wanted to live in the mountains, but Lạc Long Quân yearned for the sea,” Tâm whispered. “But they would love each other forever, and their children would grow up and do splendid things.”
The flicker of a smile crossed Mai’s face.
Tâm held her sister’s hand until she fell asleep.