Chu Ju's House (10 page)

Each day I thought of my promise to Han Na to visit my family. The only time I could leave would be after the rice harvest and before the crops were planted. At the end of August the time came. I would take a bus to the river and the riverboat to our village. I remembered my ba ba's dislike of blue jeans, and I bought new trousers for the trip and a new shirt as well. Then, throwing all caution to the winds, I spent three yuan for a stuffed panda for Hua.

All was ready and everything planned, yet I could not take the first step. It had been like that when I had left my home, and now it was like that
when I was to leave Han Na's house.

Ling said, “Chu Ju, think how pleased and relieved your family will be to see you. You have nothing to fear. Who could wish for a better daughter? They will be proud to hear you have your own land.”

“But I ran away.”

“They will understand. Perhaps there is a son now. Though how any son could make them happier than such a daughter as you there is no knowing.” A worried look came over his face. “You will come back?”

“I would never leave my land,” I said. “And my friends are here. How could I leave your parents, who have been so good to me?” I smiled. “And their son as well.”

As the bus pulled away from the village, the last thing I saw from the window of the bus was Ling standing at the station waving. I closed my
eyes, holding the memory to carry me in the days to come.

The bus passed near the worm farm and I longed to stop and see Ling Li, Song Su, and Jing, but I could not stop, for I had to return in time to get the crops planted. The riverboat carried me on the water, and I looked for Yi Yi and Wu and the boys. There were many fishing boats, but none of them was familiar.

At last we came to the village where I had grown up. I left the boat, checking carefully to see that my return tickets were in my bag. It was early evening and many of the stalls in the village were closed. The dentist and Ba Ba were not there, but I saw my old schoolmaster. I was ready to greet him but he hardly looked at me, passing me quickly. I hurried on, thinking it might be possible to visit my home and see my family from a distance without being recognized.

My old home and its plot of vegetables had grown large in my memory. Now, with it there before my eyes, it appeared small. I stood hidden beside the many branches of the banyan tree. What I saw seemed both as real and yet as unreal as the pictures I had seen on the
dian-shi
screen in the window of the store. There was Nai Nai, older and frailer, sitting with Ba Ba at the table in the courtyard. Ma Ma held Hua in her arms. No. It could not be Hua, for the baby in her arms was only a few months old. A child ran out of the house and climbed onto Ba Ba's lap, and I saw that it was Hua. The terrible worry I had had all these years disappeared. My sister was safe.

Perhaps the new baby was a boy. I could see no place for myself and resolved to leave now, saying nothing. Later I would send a letter telling all that had happened to me. Yet in spite of my resolve to run away again, I drew closer. I might just say a
word or two, ask directions as if I were a stranger, and not be recognized. My heart pounding, my legs weak, I stepped away from the shadow of the tree.

Ma Ma looked up and saw me. She thrust the baby into Nai Nai's arms and ran toward me. “Chu Ju! Chu Ju!” I felt the familiar softness as her arms enclosed me and smelled the familiar fragrance of the many herbs she gathered and preserved for Ba Ba. “Oh, Chu Ju, how could you have left us? Every day has been a torture worrying about you.”

Ba Ba hurried toward me as well. He took my hands. “Chu Ju, your leaving us was a bitter thing. But let me look at you. The little girl is gone. You are a young woman now and comely.”

Nai Nai was staring at me over the baby in her arms. I could not tell whether her eyes were bleary with age or whether tears lay in them. “How well you are dressed,” she said. There was suspicion in her voice.

Hua, for I knew it was my sister, stood apart, staring at me, her thumb in her mouth. I knelt down and drew her to me. “Hua,” I asked, “do you remember me? I am Chu Ju, your sister.”

I took the panda bear from my bag and handed it to her. “I brought you a present.”

Hua grinned and looked up to Ma Ma as if asking permission. Ma Ma nodded, and Hua reached for the bear, hugging it to her.

I was sorry I had not brought something for the new baby. “What is the new baby's name?” I asked.

“She is called Nu Hai,” Nai Nai said. “Nothing else is needed.”

Nu Hai, Girl, a name given with no great thought or hope.

“You must be hungry,” Ma Ma said. “Come and sit down and let me get you tea and a little something with it.”

Ma Ma brought out a hard-boiled egg and flat-cakes and my favorite pickles. The tea came in the familiar blue bowls I had drunk from so many times.

Watching me, Ma Ma said, “Every day I wondered, Where is Chu Ju this day? and even Where is Chu Ju this moment?”

Ba Ba said, “When I read your note, Chu Ju, I said it was all my doing. If there had been no talk of sending Hua away, we would still have our Chu Ju. In our desire for a son, we lost a daughter.” He sighed. “Now we have another daughter, but this one stays, though I will never live to see a son.”

When the table had been cleared, Ba Ba said, “Now, Chu Ju, you must tell us where you have been.”

“From the moment you left,” Ma Ma said. “Leave nothing out. I went with you on your journey, but I have no picture of it.”

Hua climbed onto my lap, clutching her panda, anxious for a story with no thought that the story began with her.

With every sentence there were questions.

“But why did you think of going to the river?” Ba Ba asked.

“How could you deal with the insides of so many fish?” Ma Ma wanted to know.

“Worms!” Hua giggled. “You tickled the worms with a feather?”

“There can be little money in the tickling of worms,” Nai Nai said. “How is it you have money to come back here? We want no thief in our house.”

And so I told about Han Na's house.

When I had finished my story, Ma Ma said, “How I wish the good woman had lived so that I might go on my knees to thank her for her kindness to my daughter.”

“You went to Shanghai by yourself?” Ba Ba
asked. “That is such a dangerous place.”

“And now that your Han Na is dead,” Nai Nai said, “I suppose this Quan has turned you out, and you come back here like a whipped dog with its tail between its legs.”

“No indeed,” I protested. “It is not like that at all. Han Na left me the lease for her land and Quan took me himself to the village registrar. The lease is mine. It is all recorded. I go back tomorrow to plant the vegetables.”

“No!” Ma Ma cried, grasping my sleeve as if she meant to hold me there. “It is impossible that you should leave so soon. I just have my daughter back with me, and am I to lose her?”

But Ba Ba only asked, “This land belongs to you? How much land is there?”

When I told him, his eyes opened very wide, as if he saw before him the green rice plants rippling in the wind. I could tell that the idea of having even
so little a piece of land was a great thing for Ba Ba. As I described the plowing of the land and planting of the rice, Ba Ba's face lit up as if he, too, were planting and harvesting. “And fish,” I said. “I plant fish with the rice and they grow with the rice so that I have a double harvest.”

Nai Nai gave a little bark of a laugh. “Now I am more sure than ever that you are telling us a tale. Fish in the rice paddy? That can't be.”

“It can be,” Ba Ba said. “I have heard of such things.”

“With Han Na gone,” Ma Ma said, “you will be alone.”

I told them of the Zhangs' kindness, and because I wished to bring his name into our family, I told them of Ling and how he and the beast plowed my land and the cleverness of his orchard.

Ba Ba nodded his head as I described the orchard. “That is a wise choice. I see in the village
how much people will give for a fine peach or juicy plum.”

As I spoke of Ling, Ma Ma watched me. Now she smiled. “This son of your friend has an orchard and his family have a water buffalo? They must be well off. Is this Ling a good son?”

My face was burning. “Yes,” I said. “And a good friend.” I said no word of his dangerous books that told the truth.

“Ah,” Ma Ma said, and nodded with satisfaction.

“I have been thinking,” I said. “If the rice and fish do well this year, I could save my money and in a year or so send the fare for the boat and bus. Then you could see my land.”

Nai Nai had been watching me. Now she said, “Why don't you sell the lease to your land and come here? You are grown now, and we could pass you off as a cousin. Then if there is a son, we would
have the money for a fine.”

Ma Ma said, “I am too old for another child. There will be no son, and who would not be satisfied with a daughter like Chu Ju?”

Ba Ba said, “Yes, sell your land and come back, and we will buy land here.” There was eagerness, even hunger in his voice.

For a moment I thought of such a thing, but I saw it could not be done. “The land was left to me by Han Na, who wanted me to care for it. If I were to give it up, the money should go to Quan.” Though I longed to stay close to Ma Ma, I saw my land before me as clearly as if it were there. I knew every furrow and every bit of rich earth. Who would care for the rice and the fish as I would? And was I to say good-bye to Ling forever? I knew something else. If I were to give the money to Ba Ba, it would be Ba Ba's land to do with as he pleased.

“You are a selfish girl,” Nai Nai said, “to care so little for your family.”

“I care for my family,” I said, “and if money is needed, I will be thrifty and send all I can, but I am going to return tomorrow.”

After our rice Hua took me by the hand. “Chu Ju,” she said, “come and see the little chicks.”

There in the chicken yard were three newly hatched chickens. Hua squatted down beside them and stared fondly at them, gently touching their soft yellow down. As I watched her, I promised myself that any money I gave would go for Hua's and Nu Hai's schooling, as much schooling as they wanted. I could live on very little. There would be no further new clothes. I would make whatever sacrifice was needed. Should I marry Ling, I was sure he would understand. Learning meant much to him, and hadn't he been quick to give me a book to read; hadn't he risked much for books? I did not believe that he would begrudge me any money I sent to my sisters.

Nai Nai must have read my mind, for she said,
“Though I said it would be a waste, your ba ba spent good money on educating you. There is no money to waste on schooling for your sisters.” She gave me a sly look.

“I will find the money,” I dared to say to her. “The learning was not wasted on me.” I thought of the letter I had written to the orphanage and the reading of Quan's letters and the book I shared with Ling.

The following morning, when it was time to leave, the good-byes of Ba Ba and Nai Nai were stiff and formal. Ma Ma clung to me begging me not to leave. Hua, too, clung to me, and for a moment Han Na's house seemed so far I could not see it, but then it came back into my head, and promising to return, I hurried off, looking back only once.

It was still daylight when I reached the house that had been Han Na's and was now mine.
Though I was tired from the long trip, and though the memory of Ma Ma's sad farewells stayed with me, I went at once to the little seeds and began to drop them into the warm earth. Soon the green shoots would push up, and in time there would be the harvest and then another spring and the planting of the rice and the little fish swimming about. When I paused in my planting to look up toward the hills, I saw Ling hurrying toward me, a great smile on his face.