The next day brought banner news on two fronts. At work, Kham emerged from his office at noon and handed me my weekly pay as usual then cleared his throat. “Mademoiselle Dubois, I’d like you to continue working here. I find your efforts helpful.”
“Thank you. I do my best.” I bowed slightly. Helpful? What exactly did that mean? He seemed completely uninterested in my attempts to improve things, and I’d hardly made any progress. I didn’t question him. Even though I detested the place and everyone who worked there, the money made it worthwhile, especially when the difficulty of finding another job was too frightening to fathom.
Kham gave a quick nod. “I’ll be traveling to my office in Luang Prabang in September, and I’d like you to accompany me to continue your work there.” He raised an eyebrow. “Bounmy suggested you would welcome the invitation.”
His words fell like lucky charms dropped from the heavens, an answer to my dreams. I’d be able to visit my mother’s family, with the outside chance that my mother might, just might, be there. Overwhelmed by my emotions, all I could do was bob my head in agreement. I couldn’t wait to thank Bounmy. I had no idea how frequently they spoke or whether I was ever a topic of discussion between them.
I floated toward home filled with exuberant hopes, hardly noticing the dark clouds blotting out the sun. Without warning the skies opened up, drenching my hair and clothes, raising the scent of mud and wet leaves. I had forgotten my umbrella, but it didn’t matter. Laughing and opening my arms wide, I spun in circles, celebrating my good fortune, not caring what anyone thought.
An older Frenchman stepped into my path. “Would you like to dance, mademoiselle? I can accommodate you.” He put his arms out, as if to grab me.
I batted his arm and spun away, laughing. As time passed I’d become skilled at avoiding the advances of men like this, no longer frightened, only annoyed. The frequency of these encounters had dropped off substantially, perhaps because I carried myself with more assurance now. Or maybe the French men in town had come to recognize me, knowing I would not tolerate their mischief.
By the time I reached the house, the sun had reclaimed the sky and nearly dried my skirt and blouse. I breezed in the front door anxious to tell Mali and Catherine my news. On the silver tray, an envelope from the orphanage director in Pakse awaited me. I ripped it open, hardly able to breathe.
June 18, 1931
Société d’assistance aux Métis
19 Rue du Marché
Pakse, Laos
Chère Mademoiselle Dubois,
I hope this finds you well.
I finally received a response yesterday from the Lycée Chasseloup-Laubat in Saigon regarding your brother Antoine Dubois. They inform me he completed his baccalauréat (with honors) at the end of May and has taken an assistant manager position at a coffee plantation on the Bolaven Plateau, an hour and a half from Pakse. I wrote him immediately and forwarded your earlier letter to him at the address listed below. I’m sure he will write you directly.
I hope you and Antoine are able to meet soon and establish a familial bond that sustains you through life. Wishing you all the best in the future. I would love to hear from you both when you have the time.
With deepest regards,
Christophe Augustin, Director
New Address:
Antoine Dubois, Assistant Manager
Leblanc Caféière Postal Box
Pakse, Laos
Mali looked up, alarmed by my shrieks and tears of joy as I danced into the kitchen. My family was within reach, only a few steps away on the horizon.