Chapter 5
Missa Hoss is folding quilt and Missa Adam is taking dragon head from broom — very careful. "Guess I should put this on the kindling pile like I was supposed to."
My brows jump up. "Burn? Why?" I take from him, look some more. "Hop Sing like keep."
"Really?" Missa Adam smile — little boy smile for once. "How come?"
Thoughts are winging in my head like wild birds.
How to explain? Dragon head show me … what? That to be American Western Chinaman is maybe not to lose anything at all? Dragon dance has worked its magic; not just against illness of Missy Cartwright, against my illness, too — that illness of the heart that has no name.
My eyes drift from little Hoss, making mess of quilt folding, to Missa Adam, watching me with question in eyes.
No. I think I have lost nothing. Gained much. Very much. But now maybe before New Year come I have small debt to settle after all.
"Come," I say in answer. "Almost New Year. Much to do."
The little Hoss bring me quilt. Is big mess.
I smile and bow my thanks.
He skip away to try to open barn door.
Missa Adam go to follow, but I touch arm. "Missa Adam." I drop to crouch to see his eyes better, cradling dragon head. "You bring quilt and things out here last night?"
His face go bright red.
I pretend not notice.
"Here is what I am thinking. This practicing to stay up late — not work so good?"
He drop eyes now and I know I am not mistaken.
I nod. "I have different plan. Tonight maybe go to bed early instead, get much extra sleep. Then tomorrow night, for eve of New Year, stay up all night — easy! Not even sleepy."
He look at me, face fighting with both shame of my discovery and hope of my help.
"I thinking also maybe Missa Hoss go bed early too; take nap tomorrow, stay up late too — maybe all night. Double lucky. Parents live — oh, forever."
His eyes now bright with relief and gratitude both. "You think that would work?"
I shrug. "I think work better. We see." I look hard at him. "Of course, is only superstition." Hold up my prize. "Like dragon dance."
He give me look. "But is tradition thousands and thousands of year old. What harm?"
I laugh out loud. I do not think he know he echo my voice and not just my words.
"What harm?" I agree. "What harm?" Small price to pay for hope, maybe.
I brush my hand through his hair as I stand. This one need haircut, too. "Come, come. Much to do."
I open door for Hoss, and he bounce ahead then back to us, like puppy. "Hop Sing, d'ya think our dragon dance made Ma better?"
I think, very serious. "Who can say? But you know …" I give Missa Adam sly wink. "Last time I check? She seem little better."
Missa Adam and little Hoss stare at me, then, whooping like savages, run for house, tumbling through snow and jumping up again.
"Wait, wait!" I call after them, anxious, stern. "Missy Cartwright sick! Need rest! Not need noisy little boys in room."
They stop on porch, faces now sad and still.
Ai, ya.
"But, maybe …" I say slowly, thinking, "quiet, polite little boys she could have in room. For minute, maybe."
Faces bright again, they stumble in door, running over floor.
"Wait! Take off wet things! Look at tracks on floor!"
Too late — they are halfway up staircase now.
"You crazy? You call this quiet? Very noisy! Stop!"
They stop on stairs, look at me.
I look at tracks. Sigh.
Ai.
"Go, go. But quiet. Very quiet!"
Obedient, they creep up stairs.
Even with wet tracks, I find I am smiling. Take off own outdoor things, go to check on tiny one, just waking up. Missy Cartwright like see this one too I think, so I pick him up, go to kitchen to fix soy milk. Tiny one like my soy milk and I am maybe little smug for this. I have won this time, I think — beaten hard land this time.
Milk almost ready and he pull at my shirt, impatient.
"You wait," I tell him, bouncing him. "Milk not come from me — am only cook, not you sau nai-nai."
He look at me with bright eyes then push fist in mouth and suck, cooing loudly.
I shake my head. I do not think that he believe me, this one.
Not sure I believe me either.
TBC
Thanks, Tauna. Hop Sing is a wise man.