The Mountains Sing(89)

“They are all yours?” Mrs. Th?o gestured at Ng?c, Sáng, and Thu?n.

I nodded. “We still have to find my son ??t. As for my eldest son Minh, I don’t know where he is.”

Mrs. Th?o bent her head. “The Land Reform went too far. Too many people have suffered injustice. I asked H?nh about your family. It was selfish of me, but I was hoping . . .”

She held H?nh for a long while, then kissed her forehead. “I’ll always love you, my baby. Now go and be a good daughter to your brave mother.” She turned to me. “Take H?nh now. Leave quickly or else my husband will stop you.”

I HUMMED MY songs to H?nh. She cried as hard as the rain when the car sped us away.

Over the years, Guava, I’ve taken your auntie back to Mrs. Th?o’s home several times. The kindergarten teacher remains H?nh’s second mother, her love is still a fertile soil enriching H?nh’s life.

My heartbeat quickened that day as I saw the bamboo grove and the mossy brick towers again. On the winding dirt road, the children held my hands, pulling me into the village market. It was late in the afternoon, and we were surrounded by people.

My heart rejoiced at the sight of the ph? shop, packed with customers.

Some people were standing, waiting for a table. Passing them, I saw a boy carrying bowls of steaming ph?. He was skinny and dark. He was your Uncle ??t, Guava. Your Uncle ??t.

“??t!” I called.

“Anh ??t, anh ??t!” Ng?c, Thu?n, and H?nh jumped up and down.

??t lifted his face. For a moment, he stood frozen. The ph? bowls slipped from his hands, shattering onto the floor.

I wept when he shuddered and took off, running for us. Everything around me blurred. It sharpened again when I held your uncle, my face buried in his thick hair, my lungs filled with his laughter.

“What’s going on?” someone shouted.

The ph? seller had arrived. She glared at ??t. “Get back to work, you idiot!”

“No,” I said. “He’s coming with us.”

“What do you think my shop is?” the woman roared. “A place for you to dump your son when you don’t need him?”

“Please, lower your voice.” I pushed a handful of banknotes into her palm. “This should cover the broken bowls and help you hire another person.”

The woman squinted, counting the money. “Give me twice as much. This idiot has broken many more dishes.”

“No way,” said ??t. “I haven’t broken anything else, and you’ve made me work extra hours without pay.”

“Don’t ever come back here,” the woman barked. “Don’t ever—”

But we were already out of earshot.

In the car, the children laughed and cried as they talked about how they’d missed each other and how scared they’d been. Watching them, joy filled my every cell. I was a tree trunk growing new branches, a bird regaining some feathers on its wings. It seemed the lucky star was shining in my favor, and I was sure I’d soon be united with Minh, Mrs. Tú, and Mr. H?i.

Darkness was as thick as ink when we arrived in Ngh? An, my hometown. At a guesthouse tucked away behind a cluster of rustling bamboo, I stepped out onto the balcony after the children had fallen asleep.

The home of my heart was so near, yet so far away. I longed to rest my forehead on the walls built by my ancestors, stand in front of our family altar and inhale the presence of my parents, husband, brother, and sister-in-law. So many storms had ravaged our home, but the Tr?n family would continue to stand. I felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders, and I carried it with pride.

The sun was yet to rise when the car drove away, the driver bringing my letters to Mr. H?i and Mrs. Tú.

Time moved forward as slowly as a snail. The morning passed, and it was noon. As the afternoon advanced, I became feverish. Why was it taking the driver so long? Had he run into some kind of trouble?

A knock at the door. Mr. H?i! I rushed into his arms—the arms of a farmer who labored all his life in the field, the same arms who provided shelter for sufferers of injustice.

“It’s so good to see you, Di?u Lan,” he told me. Out on the balcony, he eyed the children, who sat on the bed, sharing the candies I’d brought from Hà N?i.

“Uncle, have you heard from Minh? Where’s Auntie Tú?”

“Minh . . . I was hoping you’d have news about him.”

His words hit my ears like a clap of thunder.

“Don’t worry, child. The good news is that he hasn’t been caught. . . . Minh is smart and brave. I’m sure you’ll find him soon.”

“Where’s Mrs. Tú, Uncle? Why didn’t she come?”

“Let me tell you what happened.”

After we ran away, he said, the village was thrown into chaos. The officials sent people out to look for us, confident that they’d catch us and bring us back.

Mrs. Tú fiercely defended our family by telling others we didn’t exploit our workers. She tried to protect our home, but the mob beat her and threw her out. They took away her savings, saying that she’d stolen from us. They destroyed our family altar and looted the house of everything of value. Seven families, including the butcher-woman, were given permission to move in. They fought each other and put up walls inside the rooms. They argued about the division of the yard and garden.