The Wishing Trees (39 page)

Now, as Khan headed up the mountains, only three sets of crutches remained in the back of his van. Mattie found it hard to believe that bombs existed in the beautiful forest around them. She had asked Khan where the bombs were, and from time to time he squinted and pointed out craters in the landscape. Some of these were old and overrun with foliage. On her own, Mattie would never have noticed the dimples in the earth, most of which were filled with water and looked like small round ponds. But other craters were obviously of a more recent origin. Khan told her that long ago the area around Dalat had been cleared of such ordnance, but that in the wilderness, countless bombs remained.

Mattie knew that the Vietnamese believed in ghosts, and as she looked into the forest, she wondered if the dead might still inhabit the woods. She wasn’t sure what to think. The mountains were so beautiful and lush. She had never seen so much green, and surely the fields and valleys, streams and waterfalls were places where life flourished. Yet these same places had seen a war, and though Mattie didn’t know much about war, she was certain that dying so suddenly and painfully might trap someone between worlds. Her mother, she knew, had time to plan for her death, to understand it. And her mother hadn’t been afraid. She had told Mattie as much many times, and Mattie had believed her. But dying in a forest with explosions and pain and sadness must have been even harder than what her mother had faced.

Taking out her sketch pad, Mattie outlined mountains and pine trees in black pencil and then filled them in with green. She didn’t draw any ghosts but added footprints to the bottom of her image, as if someone had walked through the woods. Though she was unsure why she had included the footprints, it felt right to put them in her drawing. The forest hadn’t always been so empty. And to make it appear empty felt wrong—both in terms of the people who had died within it and because she believed that her mother wasn’t gone.

Dalat materialized through her window as they reached a summit. The van dipped and the city vanished, reappearing a few minutes later. A river ran beside the road, churning over boulders, falling straight down a cliff face in a massive exhibition of strength and sound. Mattie had never seen such a waterfall, not even in the Himalayas. The air felt cooler in its presence, and she breathed deeply, drawing moisture into her lungs.

In its lush mountain setting, Dalat looked far different from the other Vietnamese cities Mattie had visited. Though the architecture was similar—with a variety of white three-story buildings comprising the city center—the nearby forest seemed to dominate the concrete structures. Ponds, streams, and pines were also an integral part of Dalat, creating multiple havens of green.

They drove to a hotel where Ian had made arrangements. The four travelers removed their luggage from the van, thanked Khan, and checked in. Since it was midafternoon and everyone was tired from the long drive, they retired to their two rooms, located across the hall from each other. While Ian and Mattie worked on fractions, Holly practiced her Mandarin and Georgia took a bath. Outside their hotel, scooters beeped, red flags flapped, and uniformed children walked home from school.

Ian showered, shaved, and put on a white dress shirt and his new olive green cashmere suit. He slipped the three sea-glass necklaces into his pocket. While Mattie changed, he looked out the window, thinking of Kate, of how he regretted having taken her for granted. He hoped that wherever she was, she forgave him.

Soon Mattie stepped from the bathroom, wearing her new dress, and looking to Ian like a reincarnation of everything beautiful in the world. He told her as much and they embraced. Taking a comb, he carefully drew it through her hair, moving as he’d seen Kate move, remembering his loved ones together. Only when Mattie’s hair was perfect did he set down the comb. She looked lovely and precious and somehow too old. He kissed her brow, holding her with both of his hands, as if she would otherwise take flight.

They met Georgia and Holly in the lobby. Though no one would ever be as beautiful to Ian as his little girl, Georgia was striking in a violet sleeveless dress, and Holly’s smile seemed to brighten the room. Ian held out his hands, which Mattie and Holly took. He led them outside, to a waiting taxi. After helping Georgia into her seat, he moved to the front and told the driver where to take them.

As Georgia and the girls talked about their dresses, Ian watched the city pass. He twisted around, wanting to see their faces behind him. Georgia asked Mattie if she needed any makeup, and seeing that Holly wore lip gloss, Mattie said yes. Rather than handing Mattie the gloss, Georgia dipped an applicator into the opaque liquid and made smooth and steady strokes on Mattie’s lips.

The driver turned down a freshly paved road. The city seemed distant, and the road was lined on both sides by pine trees. After a few minutes, they came to a wooden two-story restaurant on a hill overlooking a lake. The shoreline was surrounded by flowering trees and grass. In the distance, green mountains reached for the sky, which had turned a deep blue as dusk approached. The lake was the shape of a turtle. Drifting on its surface were paddleboats designed to resemble swans, most of them filled with parents and children, though several contained couples who sought distant stretches of water.

Ian led Mattie, Holly, and Georgia into the restaurant. A hostess greeted them, offering a table on the upstairs veranda. Most of the outdoor tables were already occupied by well-dressed Vietnamese, who faced the lake and sipped various drinks. Ian helped Georgia, then Holly and Mattie into their chairs. He sat opposite Georgia and was the only one who didn’t have a view of the lake.

After a waitress came and took their drink orders, Ian reached into his pocket. “I’ve got something for each of you. Something I found on the beach yesterday. A keepsake of our walkabout together.” He handed Mattie, Holly, and Georgia each a necklace, being careful to give the right item to the right person. Whoever had made the jewelry had wrapped the top and bottom of each piece of sea glass with a strand of silver wire. As Ian had suggested, a thin strap of black leather allowed the sea glass to hang around the wearer’s neck.

Mattie was the first to put on her necklace, and she lifted the sea glass, inspecting it carefully. “I love it, Daddy,” she said, stroking the glass. “You found it? Really?”

“Yeah, luv. When you ladies were frolicking in the water.”

Georgia draped her present around her neck. “They’re wonderful, Ian. Just wonderful. Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure. A real honor.”

Holly, who had never been given a piece of jewelry by anyone other than her mother, continued to hold her necklace. “You . . . you got this . . . for me?” she asked, her fingers still, her gaze on Ian.

“Of course. You’re Mattie’s mate. And mine too.”

She focused on the sea glass, unaware that her eyes glistened. “But it’s so . . . beautiful.”

“As are you, Holly. As are you.”

Georgia smiled, helping Holly put on the necklace. “It goes perfectly with your dress. With both your dresses.”

Holly’s fingers remained on the necklace. She felt its contours, using her feet to shift her chair closer to Ian’s. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer and slower than usual. “It’s perfect. You found a perfect necklace for me.”

“Sea glass won’t be around much longer,” Ian replied. “Everything’s plastic these days. And plastic thrown into the sea never turns into anything beautiful. Unlike what I found on that little beach.”

Mattie turned toward her father. “But we didn’t find anything for you.”

“That’s all right, Roo. You’ve already given me enough.”

Their waitress returned with their drinks and a small mesh cage that resembled a lantern.

“What’s this?” Mattie asked.

The woman gestured toward the lake. The sun was setting and the lights of fireflies pulsated above the water and nearby shore. “See the children?” she replied. “See them catch the fire bugs? You can catch them down there too, then bring them back up to your table.”

Mattie saw that groups of children were chasing the fireflies and putting them into similar cages. She stood up. “Can we go, Daddy? Please?”

“Let’s all go. It looks like a heap of fun.”

Ian took off his suit jacket, hung it over his chair, and followed the girls and Georgia to the stairs. Holly turned around, smiling at him, still touching her necklace. He winked at her, carrying the mesh lantern, glad that the hotel manager had told him about the restaurant. It seemed perfect, and his spirits soared as he watched Mattie and Holly hurry toward the lake in their new dresses. The land had been carefully manicured—the grass cut thick and short, clumps of flowering bushes planted next to smooth boulders. Fireflies were everywhere, lighting for a second or two, then becoming almost invisible in the growing darkness. Children chased the insects, while parents helped collect them, putting the fireflies into glass jars or lanterns from the restaurant.

Mattie and Holly began to pursue a pair of fireflies that hovered near the base of a flowering tree. They laughed as the insects evaded them, disappearing and then reappearing in a flash of light a few feet away. Ian chuckled, thinking that neither Mattie nor Holly had chased many fireflies. Growing up in Manhattan and Hong Kong didn’t provide an abundance of such opportunities.

Holly was the first to snare a firefly and she ran to Ian, giggling. He opened a miniature door on the bottom of the lantern and she shook her hand until the firefly flew into the cage. Mattie hurried over, repeating the process, trying to move quickly while Holly ran toward a group of fireflies that a Vietnamese toddler was chasing without success.

As the girls stalked more fireflies, Georgia shifted closer to Ian, lifting her camera. She took several pictures of Holly and Mattie, then turned to him. “Let me get one of you,” she said. “In your fancy new outfit.”

He grinned and reached for a firefly, jumping as it rose above his outstretched hand. “Look at her go,” he said, stepping to his right, staying beneath the firefly. “What a little beaut.”

Georgia captured his smile and lowered the camera. “I don’t think she wants to be caught.”

“Hats off to her.” Holding out the lantern so that Mattie and Holly could stick more fireflies into it, Ian nodded at Georgia. “Might I snap one of you?” he asked as Mattie and Holly ran back toward the lake.

“Of me?”

“That’s right.”

She reached into her purse and removed a little mirror. “Just a second.”

“You don’t need that. Not one bit.”

Remembering how Frank had told her that he no longer found her attractive, that pregnancy had made her face too full, she pushed her hair into place. “Sorry,” she said. “A bad habit, I guess.”

“An unnecessary habit. Might as well repaint a schooner every time it heads out to sea.”

“A schooner?”

“An old sailing ship.”

Her brow furrowed as she smiled. “So I’m an old ship headed out to sea?”

“Well . . . something like that. But let’s strike the old part.”

“Strike away.”

Her smile lingered and he took her picture, framing it with the lake on one side and the distant forms of Mattie and Holly on the other. He handed the camera back to her. “It’s a beaut of a night, isn’t it?”

“It’s more than that.”

“You reckon?”

Georgia took another photo of the girls. “Look at them. Look at Mattie. She’s dancing around like the fireflies she’s chasing.”

“There’s a hop in her step—that’s for sure. She’s like the old Roo.”

“A big hop. So the next time you’re worried about her happiness, remember tonight. She hasn’t forgotten how to be happy. And neither have you.”

He caught a firefly, watched it glow within his cupped hands, and set it free. “I want to believe . . . those things.”

“And you should.”

“You do?”

She stepped closer to him, trying to stop the feelings that were flooding into her, but unable to deny them. “Can I . . . take your hand?” she asked, her pulse quickening, her voice unsteady. “Just as a friend? And nothing else? I just want to take your hand and walk beside the lake while our girls catch fireflies. That would make a beaut of a night . . . a perfect night.”

He studied her face, saw how she was no longer the confident woman who looked so at home on the streets of Hong Kong. “Let’s make it a perfect night,” he said, reaching toward her. “There’s no reason that mates can’t hold hands and have a walkabout.”

“Thank you, Ian.”

“No worries. And I should thank you. Not the other way around.”

Georgia smiled, his hand warm against hers. She felt as if she were suddenly decades younger. The sun had set and the lake was no longer afire with its reflection. The world was growing more subtle. Mattie and Holly ran back to add four or five fireflies to the lantern. “Look at you both,” Georgia said. “In your beautiful dresses. I just said that you remind me of the fireflies you’re chasing.”

Holly laughed. “They’re bugs, Mom. We’re girls.”

“True,” Georgia replied, still conscious of the warmth of Ian’s fingers. “But that doesn’t make you so different.”

Mattie nodded as Holly shook her head. The girls then turned and hurried back up the hill toward the restaurant, where a few fireflies were evading the outstretched hands of the local children. Ian and Georgia followed, neither talking, both content to watch their daughters. At first Ian felt guilty about holding Georgia’s hand, as the act seemed intimate. But soon his emotions shifted. She needed him and he needed her. And friends ought to be able to hold hands. If friends couldn’t hold hands, what good were they to each other?

Fireflies continued to escape or be caught. Though Mattie was more than a hundred feet from Ian, her laughter drifted to him, infusing him with her joy and spirit. She climbed onto a stump and jumped off it—twirling and soaring and undergoing what seemed to be an almost metamorphic change. Her colorful dress billowed outward and she appeared to take flight, and this instantaneous journey lifted Ian skyward, turning his fears into hopes, his sorrow into elation. Without thought or concern or reservation, he lifted Georgia’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of her wrist, holding her flesh against his as Mattie caught a darting source of light.