The Mountains Sing(80)

“What?” I tried to avoid staring at his long eyelashes and his full lips.

“Hold my hand?”

“Huh?”

He pointed at a lotus flower just away from our reach. Then he gestured at the protruding root of the ancient tree. “And hold on to that?”

“But . . . are you sure it’s allowed?”

He shrugged, smiled, and gave me his hand.

I grabbed the root. My other hand clutched Tam’s hand. “Be careful.”

Holding tight to me, Tam stretched his body out to the water. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him fall. I didn’t think he could reach the flower, but when I sneaked a look, the pink petals were trembling against his chest.

He offered the flower to me. “For the most charming and most intelligent girl.”

I hid my smile behind the lotus, its fragrance stealing my breath.

“Hey. You thieves!” Angry shouts sprang up somewhere out on the water. I turned to see a man in frantic motions. He was rowing a sampan toward us. “My flowers!”

“Oops.” Tam pulled me up. As I hurried to grab our bags, slinging them over my shoulder, Tam picked up my handkerchief. He rushed my bike across the grass and onto the road.

“Sorry, Uncle,” Tam called over to the boatman. “This flower, it’s the first one I ever picked for a girl. Forgive me, please.”

I wasn’t sure if the boatman heard Tam. He was still rowing furiously, shouting along the way. Tam hopped onto my bike. I jumped on behind him.

Holding on to his waist, my fingers burned as they felt the muscles through his shirt. Tam raced us through the streets, navigating through traffic. “You alright?”

“Sure.” I giggled, the flower nesting against my chest.

Our laughter rose up together. Around me, summer was in full bloom. Something blossomed inside me, too.

“So now . . . where to?” Tam asked.

“Oh, no! What time is it?” How could I have forgotten that Uncle ??t was alone and needed my help? “I should hurry home.”

“I’ll take you there.”

Tam already knew the maze that made up the roads of Hà N?i. He found a shortcut that took us to Kham Thiên.

It had been a long time since a friend visited my home. Wanting to show Tam off to Th?y, I looked hard when we passed her house. No sight of her. She’d dropped out of school and taken a job stringing bamboo curtains for a cooperative.

I opened our door to see Grandma standing there. “Where have you been?” Wrinkles deepened on her face.

“Chào bà.” Tam bowed his greeting.

She nodded, eyeing him, not a single word escaping her lips.

Tam turned to me. “See you tomorrow.”

“Who’s that?” Grandma asked as I pushed my bike inside.

“I wish you were more friendly, Grandma. Couldn’t you have invited him in?”

“I don’t know who he is. And where did you go?”

“Can’t I have friends?” I threw my schoolbag onto the floor, holding on to the lotus. For sure Tam disliked me now.

“H??ng is right, Mama,” Uncle ??t said from his wheelchair. “She’s a big girl. Give her some freedom.” He smiled at me. “That’s a nice flower.”

“Glad someone noticed.” I gave it to him.

He gestured at the table. “Eat, the food’s getting cold.”

I dived into the plates and bowls, knowing that I should wash my hands first. But Tam’s touch still felt soft on my skin; I wanted it to stay.

Grandma rummaged the cupboard for a vase. “A female friend would be better for your age, H??ng.”

“He’s a classmate, Grandma.” I rolled my eyes.

“How come I haven’t seen him before? And that middle-region accent of his . . .”

“He moved a couple of months ago from Hà T?nh Province.”

“That’s not too far from our home village.” Uncle ??t inhaled the lotus’s perfume. “Men from Hà T?nh are known to be honest and hard-working.”

I smiled at my uncle, glad that he was on my side.

“We’ll see about that.” Grandma put the vase and the lotus onto the table. She poured me a glass of water. “As I was saying, ??t, I asked H?nh to rerun the search notice in the newspapers. Hopefully your brother Minh will see it.”

“You think he’s in the South, Mama?”

“I’m sure.” Grandma turned to me. “Your aunt ran search notices for your father, too. She’ll let us know as soon as there’s any news.”

I nodded, reminding myself to write more often to my aunt. Our proverb said “Xa m?t cách lòng—Distant faces, faded hearts,” but Auntie H?nh had stayed close despite more than a thousand kilometers between us.

After I’d cleared away the plates and bowls, Grandma put a large basket onto the table, unloading pieces of flattened rubber tires.

Uncle ??t struggled but managed to swing himself into a dining chair. For months he’d been training his arms, lifting heavy weights. I wished the artificial legs would arrive soon. Grandma had sold the piglets and gathered all her savings, as well as money from Auntie H?nh and my mother. My uncle had gone to have his stumps measured, but it was taking longer than we’d hoped for the legs to be ready. With so many injured soldiers, the demand for artificial limbs was too high.