Meg stood watching John sleep.
His slumber was deep. She'd moved out of his arms without waking him, and he'd even slept through the subsequent redressing of his wound, after Lee Ma had removed the cooled poultice.
Meg was grateful, knowing that rest was his salvation at this point, the surest path to healing his traumatized body.
There was peace in watching him like this, a return of the comfort she'd known with his return, that had grown with their love making. For the moment she was content to ignore the nagging thoughts and doubts and take pleasure in his proximity.
But they would return, she knew, to plague her anew.
Meg was angry at herself for the sudden loss of confidence she'd felt, triggered, unfathomably, by the simple revelation of Lee Ma's honorific. She'd been on her own, basically since she'd run away from her foster placement late in her fifteenth year. She'd always been proud of the fact that while she had lived outside of the law and almost entirely by her wits, she'd not fallen into the traps so many other young runaways did. She'd forged a life for herself, prided her ability to survive, worn her independence as a badge of honor. She'd needed no one but herself--and been proud of the fact.
Six months ago, John Lee had changed that, just by virtue of walking into her life and complicating it.
That both of them had long lived by their wits and intelligence created a common ground between them, a natural affinity that had quickly formed itself into an amazing partnership. Short lived as it had been, it had fundamentally changed who she was. The woman who had never cared for much of anything or any one beyond herself had been transformed. Seeing John hellbent on a suicidal mission to even the score with Terence Wei, she had abandoned her own finely honed sense of self preservation to fight at his side. Against all the odds--and what she had sensed John's original intent: to pay for his sins with his life even as he ended Wei's--they had both survived.
Watching him go back to China had been another kind of death, although she had understood and genuinely endorsed it. The life of troubled emotions she'd led since his departure had been foreign to her, the war she waged with herself everyday something she had not anticipated.
She used to know who she was and what she wanted. Now... Now all she knew was that she was suddenly a raw nerve, unsure of everything.
Was this what love was?
She'd given herself to him last night freely, and even in the cold light of day, she had no regrets
whatsoever about their lovemaking. In fact she had to admit to herself that the act had--conversely--both assuaged and sharpened a hunger she'd not been able to admit to herself before. She wanted to be his every night, wanted to draw comfort and solace from their intimacy, as well as to give it in return.
She felt restless, lightheaded, vaguely nauseous. Had the sudden desire to escape into open air.
Meg turned away, walking back into the small utilitarian kitchen, where Lee Ma and Liu Shen sat quietly eating.
"I have to go out," Meg announced impulsively, even though two minutes ago she had had no such intention. "I'm going to take John's suit to the dry cleaners, and look for a sling for his arm. Get some things...I"ll be back after a while." She'd invented the errands on the fly, not having any such intention just a minute ago.
She wanted to move but found she was incapable. The room was spinning around her. She grabbed onto the freestanding cabinet between the kitchen and her small table to steady herself
Black dots dancing before her eyes.
Meg became aware of the fact that the Lee women were regarding her in concerned silence. Liu Shen and her mother exchanged a look, the younger woman rising and walking over to stand by her. Liu Shen put a steadying arm around her.
"You are so pale! Are you well? I think it is your turn to eat and rest, Meg Coburn. I fear you are compromising your health taking such good care of us, of Jian." The young woman commented worriedly, looking at Meg carefully, "I wish I knew this city so that I could go in your place. Surely the cleaning and sling can wait--at least until tomorrow?"
Meg realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten--she'd been far more concerned with the well-being of John and his family than her own comfort. And it was true that she was short on sleep.
"I'm fine. I always keep irregular hours and catch meals as I can."
Lee Ma, who had been listening intently to the conversation between the two younger women, put her own dish aside and moved to the stove. Before Meg could protest, she had served up a plate full of food. She gestured Meg to the table.
"Come," the older woman said in heavily accented English. "Eat, Li taai-taai."
There the words were again, searing into her soul, wrenching her heart, quite overthrowing her surprise at Lee Ma's direct communication. The power a few syllables of Chinese had over her emotional equilibrium was troubling. She did not understand her reaction.
Meg felt tears burning at the back of her eyes, it took all the force of her will to keep them from forming.
Liu Shen's hand was in hers, leading her to the table and urging her to sit. Lee Ma and her daughter commenced fussing over her as though she were a cherished, long time member of their family. Meg was nonplussed at the attention--as unused as she was to such unselfconscious human kindness.
"I will sit with Jian while you eat," Liu Shen soothed, "then you must lie down and try to rest. Our coming has been too much for you. Tomorrow I will go with you on your errands and begin to learn this city, so that the next time perhaps I can repay your kindness by doing these things in your stead."
Meg glanced down at the food on her plate, then up into Liu Shen's soulful brown eyes, so much like her brother's. Reflected in their depths, Meg found an answer to what she was feeling. She'd always been good in a crisis, doing what needed to be done calmly and capably. Once a crisis was past, she'd often fallen apart. In private, alone and angry. John was getting better now, and it was time to pay the piper.
The tears she'd fought so hard to suppress sprang unbidden to her eyes and she did the one thing she hated like hell to ever do.
She broke down, sobbing as though her heart would break. This brought a flurry of attention from the Lee women, who enfolded her in their arms, murmuring words of comfort in two languages. They stroked her face, her hair, her arms, patted her back, their touch infinitely gentle, soothing, loving. comforting.
To those who have seldom known it sometimes kindness is a sword cutting deep into natural defenses. Meg Coburn was no exception.
It was quite a while before she was composed enough to eat.
Liu Shen sat at Meg's side, stroking the lax hand that dangled off side of the bed. Quite against the young woman's objections, John's sister had urged her back into her bedroom and to the half of the bed unoccupied by her brother.
Drained by her emotional breakdown, and--John's sister knew--the cumulative effect of six months of worry as well as the shock of their unexpected arrival, Meg had fallen into an uneasy slumber. Liu Shen had covered her with a throw and settled herself down to keep watch.
Jian was still sleeping soundly. He was making steady progress.
And in the way of the strong, Meg had paid a price in equilibrium and strength that even she did was not aware of, until the immediate crisis was past. Lee Ma had slipped a nerve calming tincture into the tea she had urged on Meg during her meal, hopefully it would undo some of the damage done, help their benefactor regain her balance.
Liu Shen understood nerve storms only too well, felt immense empathy for the woman her brother loved. Meg was a strong woman, but that did not mean that she was without her limits of endurance.
Looking at the two, her brother and Meg, Liu Shen could not help but smile. They belonged together. She'd known that ever since Jian had come back to them, in Canton.
Her normally reserved and taciturn brother had waxed effusive and enthusiastic when he spoke of the mysterious Meg Coburn who had made it possible for him to return to his family. It had thrilled Liu Shen to draw Jian out, to see the transformation he underwent when he talked about her. She had spent most of her life marking the changes in her sibling, so few of them for the better. His disarming smile--a rare feature for longer than she cared to remember--had returned in full glory when he spoke of his Meg.
He had, it seemed, fulfilled one of his sister's dearest wishes for him during what had seemed a hopeless, soul killing time. He had found someone he could love.
Liu Shen had regretted deeply that their escape from China could not have been accomplished immediately--for each delay had taken a toll on her brother. He had found his heart, and had been forced to leave it behind, all at the same time. She suspected that the same had been true for Meg. And she had not had the distraction of family to occupy her mind and energy.
Liu Shen's fervent hope was that now that they were together everything would work itself out. Above all else, as part of the debt she felt she owed John, she wanted him to be happy. He deserved no less for all the sacrifices he had made on behalf of his family.
Liu Shen's reverie was interrupted by the sound of her brother's voice, speaking softly in Cantonese.
"Sister, what is wrong with Meg?"
Liu Shen looked up and met her brother's eyes. He was taking in the picture of Meg sprawled out on the bed, his brow furrowed, worry and alarm plain on his face.
He wasn't supposed to be awake. Had the tumult in Meg's soul somehow communicated itself to him as he slept? Liu Shen believed such things were possible between soul mates. Jian and Meg were certainly that.
It was little use to dissemble, she'd never been able to keep much from her brother.
"She was a little ill--had not eaten in too long for worry about you. I convinced her to rest. She will be fine, " Liu Shen responded in a whisper, letting go of Meg's hand. She stood watching, reassuring herself that their benefactor's rest was undisturbed before moving to her brother's side of the bed. She sat herself down beside him. "You should be sleeping. I will watch over your Meg for you. Rest."
"You made her eat then? And it is nothing more than that?" John ignored her advice, as he often did, pressing forward with his concerns.
"Yes. Ma and I made her eat a good meal. Ma gave her medicine to facilitate sleep. I think the surprise of our arrival proved a bit much for her is all. It would have been for anyone, given the circumstances."
John took his eyes from their study of Liu Shen and looked at Meg, the tenderness in his gaze so evident that Liu Shen was awed by it. "I always overturn her life. This hasn't gone as I would have liked. I wanted this time to be different," he commented sadly.
"It has gone as it was meant to. She will be fine. She's very strong, but even the strong need their rest and respite. I'll keep an eye on her for you. " Liu Shen soothed.
John forced his eyes away from Meg and looked at his sister fondly, "When did you grow so wise, sister?"
Liu Shen shrugged. "Go back to sleep!."
"No," John said, "Please call our mother...And I need clothes from our luggage."
Liu Shen's eyebrows drew together, "What for?" She already had a good idea what he was going to say next.
" I feel much improved, I must get up. There is too much to do to languish any longer."
"Li Jian-Hui!" Liu Shen exclaimed as forcefully as she could without waking Meg using his full Chinese name, "it has not been very long since you collapsed in the alley! You are ill! You will stay where you are and recuperate!" she argued.
"I have been injured worse than this. Sicker than this many a time. I know what I can do and what I must do. If you do not help me, I will move from this bed by myself. If I must crawl, I will. But I will get up." John's eyes took on a dark cast that she had seen only rarely, his expression communicating clearly that he would brook no opposition. It was the face of the man he had become, not the man he was.
Liu Shen did not fear the transformation. But she respected it. She controlled the urge to yell at him, instead channeling her frustration and anger into a quite unladylike gesture, very Chinese in its execution, but one that might easily be universally understood. She stood up and stalked to where John's bag had been thrown the night before. Returning to the bed, she plopped it down across his legs, then stalked off to the kitchen.
If Meg hadn't been sleeping in the same room, she would have let loose with a stream of Cantonese invective that might have peeled the paint from the walls.
But she knew that in a match of Li temperament, there would be no clear winner. So instead she summoned her mother, and together they helped John dress and rise.
Meg came to consciousness with the distinct feeling that someone had played a trick on her. She hadn't been the least bit tired before she ate--within a few minutes of finishing the meal and arguing with John's sister, the lights had faded out.
"Someone slipped me a mickey!" she said aloud, to no one in particular.
"Excuse me?" the quiet response mystified her. Unless someone had flipped her 90 degrees while she slept, the voice she recognized came from quite the wrong direction, "A Ômickey'?"
"John??" Meg opened her eyes and sat up abruptly, trying to make sense of what was making no sense. Her eyes fell on John, sitting close beside the bed in one of the chairs she generally kept in her office area. He was dressed--not Armani this time, but an equally impressive label she was sure--his arm in a sling fashioned from one of her bath sheets.
"What the hell?!" Meg blinked, trying to make sure that whatever had knocked her out hadn't played hob with her perception. She twisted, looking at the empty side of the bed, then bringing her eyes back to meet his, flashing in anger, "What the hell are you doing?! Did I sleep for a week or are you insane?"
John Lee was regarding her with that damned implacable expression again, the one that revealed nothing, no matter how long you studied it. While she was studying it, she made note of his coloring--remarkably good amazingly enough.
"You've been sleeping a few hours only. And I've been called many things, but never insane."
"Yeah, well, how else do you describe someone who doesn't do what he's told? Christ, John!
Bad enough you flew over an entire ocean with a hole in your shoulder that a flight attendant could have passed a drink through. Never mind you were unconscious and delirious for two days. What the HELL do you have against taking care of yourself?!"
end of chapter six
His slumber was deep. She'd moved out of his arms without waking him, and he'd even slept through the subsequent redressing of his wound, after Lee Ma had removed the cooled poultice.
Meg was grateful, knowing that rest was his salvation at this point, the surest path to healing his traumatized body.
There was peace in watching him like this, a return of the comfort she'd known with his return, that had grown with their love making. For the moment she was content to ignore the nagging thoughts and doubts and take pleasure in his proximity.
But they would return, she knew, to plague her anew.
Meg was angry at herself for the sudden loss of confidence she'd felt, triggered, unfathomably, by the simple revelation of Lee Ma's honorific. She'd been on her own, basically since she'd run away from her foster placement late in her fifteenth year. She'd always been proud of the fact that while she had lived outside of the law and almost entirely by her wits, she'd not fallen into the traps so many other young runaways did. She'd forged a life for herself, prided her ability to survive, worn her independence as a badge of honor. She'd needed no one but herself--and been proud of the fact.
Six months ago, John Lee had changed that, just by virtue of walking into her life and complicating it.
That both of them had long lived by their wits and intelligence created a common ground between them, a natural affinity that had quickly formed itself into an amazing partnership. Short lived as it had been, it had fundamentally changed who she was. The woman who had never cared for much of anything or any one beyond herself had been transformed. Seeing John hellbent on a suicidal mission to even the score with Terence Wei, she had abandoned her own finely honed sense of self preservation to fight at his side. Against all the odds--and what she had sensed John's original intent: to pay for his sins with his life even as he ended Wei's--they had both survived.
Watching him go back to China had been another kind of death, although she had understood and genuinely endorsed it. The life of troubled emotions she'd led since his departure had been foreign to her, the war she waged with herself everyday something she had not anticipated.
She used to know who she was and what she wanted. Now... Now all she knew was that she was suddenly a raw nerve, unsure of everything.
Was this what love was?
She'd given herself to him last night freely, and even in the cold light of day, she had no regrets
whatsoever about their lovemaking. In fact she had to admit to herself that the act had--conversely--both assuaged and sharpened a hunger she'd not been able to admit to herself before. She wanted to be his every night, wanted to draw comfort and solace from their intimacy, as well as to give it in return.
She felt restless, lightheaded, vaguely nauseous. Had the sudden desire to escape into open air.
Meg turned away, walking back into the small utilitarian kitchen, where Lee Ma and Liu Shen sat quietly eating.
"I have to go out," Meg announced impulsively, even though two minutes ago she had had no such intention. "I'm going to take John's suit to the dry cleaners, and look for a sling for his arm. Get some things...I"ll be back after a while." She'd invented the errands on the fly, not having any such intention just a minute ago.
She wanted to move but found she was incapable. The room was spinning around her. She grabbed onto the freestanding cabinet between the kitchen and her small table to steady herself
Black dots dancing before her eyes.
Meg became aware of the fact that the Lee women were regarding her in concerned silence. Liu Shen and her mother exchanged a look, the younger woman rising and walking over to stand by her. Liu Shen put a steadying arm around her.
"You are so pale! Are you well? I think it is your turn to eat and rest, Meg Coburn. I fear you are compromising your health taking such good care of us, of Jian." The young woman commented worriedly, looking at Meg carefully, "I wish I knew this city so that I could go in your place. Surely the cleaning and sling can wait--at least until tomorrow?"
Meg realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten--she'd been far more concerned with the well-being of John and his family than her own comfort. And it was true that she was short on sleep.
"I'm fine. I always keep irregular hours and catch meals as I can."
Lee Ma, who had been listening intently to the conversation between the two younger women, put her own dish aside and moved to the stove. Before Meg could protest, she had served up a plate full of food. She gestured Meg to the table.
"Come," the older woman said in heavily accented English. "Eat, Li taai-taai."
There the words were again, searing into her soul, wrenching her heart, quite overthrowing her surprise at Lee Ma's direct communication. The power a few syllables of Chinese had over her emotional equilibrium was troubling. She did not understand her reaction.
Meg felt tears burning at the back of her eyes, it took all the force of her will to keep them from forming.
Liu Shen's hand was in hers, leading her to the table and urging her to sit. Lee Ma and her daughter commenced fussing over her as though she were a cherished, long time member of their family. Meg was nonplussed at the attention--as unused as she was to such unselfconscious human kindness.
"I will sit with Jian while you eat," Liu Shen soothed, "then you must lie down and try to rest. Our coming has been too much for you. Tomorrow I will go with you on your errands and begin to learn this city, so that the next time perhaps I can repay your kindness by doing these things in your stead."
Meg glanced down at the food on her plate, then up into Liu Shen's soulful brown eyes, so much like her brother's. Reflected in their depths, Meg found an answer to what she was feeling. She'd always been good in a crisis, doing what needed to be done calmly and capably. Once a crisis was past, she'd often fallen apart. In private, alone and angry. John was getting better now, and it was time to pay the piper.
The tears she'd fought so hard to suppress sprang unbidden to her eyes and she did the one thing she hated like hell to ever do.
She broke down, sobbing as though her heart would break. This brought a flurry of attention from the Lee women, who enfolded her in their arms, murmuring words of comfort in two languages. They stroked her face, her hair, her arms, patted her back, their touch infinitely gentle, soothing, loving. comforting.
To those who have seldom known it sometimes kindness is a sword cutting deep into natural defenses. Meg Coburn was no exception.
It was quite a while before she was composed enough to eat.
Liu Shen sat at Meg's side, stroking the lax hand that dangled off side of the bed. Quite against the young woman's objections, John's sister had urged her back into her bedroom and to the half of the bed unoccupied by her brother.
Drained by her emotional breakdown, and--John's sister knew--the cumulative effect of six months of worry as well as the shock of their unexpected arrival, Meg had fallen into an uneasy slumber. Liu Shen had covered her with a throw and settled herself down to keep watch.
Jian was still sleeping soundly. He was making steady progress.
And in the way of the strong, Meg had paid a price in equilibrium and strength that even she did was not aware of, until the immediate crisis was past. Lee Ma had slipped a nerve calming tincture into the tea she had urged on Meg during her meal, hopefully it would undo some of the damage done, help their benefactor regain her balance.
Liu Shen understood nerve storms only too well, felt immense empathy for the woman her brother loved. Meg was a strong woman, but that did not mean that she was without her limits of endurance.
Looking at the two, her brother and Meg, Liu Shen could not help but smile. They belonged together. She'd known that ever since Jian had come back to them, in Canton.
Her normally reserved and taciturn brother had waxed effusive and enthusiastic when he spoke of the mysterious Meg Coburn who had made it possible for him to return to his family. It had thrilled Liu Shen to draw Jian out, to see the transformation he underwent when he talked about her. She had spent most of her life marking the changes in her sibling, so few of them for the better. His disarming smile--a rare feature for longer than she cared to remember--had returned in full glory when he spoke of his Meg.
He had, it seemed, fulfilled one of his sister's dearest wishes for him during what had seemed a hopeless, soul killing time. He had found someone he could love.
Liu Shen had regretted deeply that their escape from China could not have been accomplished immediately--for each delay had taken a toll on her brother. He had found his heart, and had been forced to leave it behind, all at the same time. She suspected that the same had been true for Meg. And she had not had the distraction of family to occupy her mind and energy.
Liu Shen's fervent hope was that now that they were together everything would work itself out. Above all else, as part of the debt she felt she owed John, she wanted him to be happy. He deserved no less for all the sacrifices he had made on behalf of his family.
Liu Shen's reverie was interrupted by the sound of her brother's voice, speaking softly in Cantonese.
"Sister, what is wrong with Meg?"
Liu Shen looked up and met her brother's eyes. He was taking in the picture of Meg sprawled out on the bed, his brow furrowed, worry and alarm plain on his face.
He wasn't supposed to be awake. Had the tumult in Meg's soul somehow communicated itself to him as he slept? Liu Shen believed such things were possible between soul mates. Jian and Meg were certainly that.
It was little use to dissemble, she'd never been able to keep much from her brother.
"She was a little ill--had not eaten in too long for worry about you. I convinced her to rest. She will be fine, " Liu Shen responded in a whisper, letting go of Meg's hand. She stood watching, reassuring herself that their benefactor's rest was undisturbed before moving to her brother's side of the bed. She sat herself down beside him. "You should be sleeping. I will watch over your Meg for you. Rest."
"You made her eat then? And it is nothing more than that?" John ignored her advice, as he often did, pressing forward with his concerns.
"Yes. Ma and I made her eat a good meal. Ma gave her medicine to facilitate sleep. I think the surprise of our arrival proved a bit much for her is all. It would have been for anyone, given the circumstances."
John took his eyes from their study of Liu Shen and looked at Meg, the tenderness in his gaze so evident that Liu Shen was awed by it. "I always overturn her life. This hasn't gone as I would have liked. I wanted this time to be different," he commented sadly.
"It has gone as it was meant to. She will be fine. She's very strong, but even the strong need their rest and respite. I'll keep an eye on her for you. " Liu Shen soothed.
John forced his eyes away from Meg and looked at his sister fondly, "When did you grow so wise, sister?"
Liu Shen shrugged. "Go back to sleep!."
"No," John said, "Please call our mother...And I need clothes from our luggage."
Liu Shen's eyebrows drew together, "What for?" She already had a good idea what he was going to say next.
" I feel much improved, I must get up. There is too much to do to languish any longer."
"Li Jian-Hui!" Liu Shen exclaimed as forcefully as she could without waking Meg using his full Chinese name, "it has not been very long since you collapsed in the alley! You are ill! You will stay where you are and recuperate!" she argued.
"I have been injured worse than this. Sicker than this many a time. I know what I can do and what I must do. If you do not help me, I will move from this bed by myself. If I must crawl, I will. But I will get up." John's eyes took on a dark cast that she had seen only rarely, his expression communicating clearly that he would brook no opposition. It was the face of the man he had become, not the man he was.
Liu Shen did not fear the transformation. But she respected it. She controlled the urge to yell at him, instead channeling her frustration and anger into a quite unladylike gesture, very Chinese in its execution, but one that might easily be universally understood. She stood up and stalked to where John's bag had been thrown the night before. Returning to the bed, she plopped it down across his legs, then stalked off to the kitchen.
If Meg hadn't been sleeping in the same room, she would have let loose with a stream of Cantonese invective that might have peeled the paint from the walls.
But she knew that in a match of Li temperament, there would be no clear winner. So instead she summoned her mother, and together they helped John dress and rise.
Meg came to consciousness with the distinct feeling that someone had played a trick on her. She hadn't been the least bit tired before she ate--within a few minutes of finishing the meal and arguing with John's sister, the lights had faded out.
"Someone slipped me a mickey!" she said aloud, to no one in particular.
"Excuse me?" the quiet response mystified her. Unless someone had flipped her 90 degrees while she slept, the voice she recognized came from quite the wrong direction, "A Ômickey'?"
"John??" Meg opened her eyes and sat up abruptly, trying to make sense of what was making no sense. Her eyes fell on John, sitting close beside the bed in one of the chairs she generally kept in her office area. He was dressed--not Armani this time, but an equally impressive label she was sure--his arm in a sling fashioned from one of her bath sheets.
"What the hell?!" Meg blinked, trying to make sure that whatever had knocked her out hadn't played hob with her perception. She twisted, looking at the empty side of the bed, then bringing her eyes back to meet his, flashing in anger, "What the hell are you doing?! Did I sleep for a week or are you insane?"
John Lee was regarding her with that damned implacable expression again, the one that revealed nothing, no matter how long you studied it. While she was studying it, she made note of his coloring--remarkably good amazingly enough.
"You've been sleeping a few hours only. And I've been called many things, but never insane."
"Yeah, well, how else do you describe someone who doesn't do what he's told? Christ, John!
Bad enough you flew over an entire ocean with a hole in your shoulder that a flight attendant could have passed a drink through. Never mind you were unconscious and delirious for two days. What the HELL do you have against taking care of yourself?!"
end of chapter six