Dragonfly Dreams Read online

  “Watch out!” I yelled, but it was too late.

  The lean-to collapsed and the heavy lamppost fell, hitting the old man and pinning him to the ground.

  The boy cried out, “Grandpa!” He ran and knelt over the old man, and the dog ran to the boy and licked his face.

  I could have run away then, but something pulled me back.

  The old man groaned pitifully. The boy spoke to him. He pushed the dog away and tried to move the post, lifting and grunting. His hands were too small and his arms too weak. I knew he would never be able to lift it alone. The boy looked at me with distressed and pleading eyes. I joined him and together we dragged the heavy lamppost off the old man and placed it to the side.

  The old man moved slightly, then groaned again. The boy knelt beside him, and the old man asked for water. I knelt and fumbled in my knapsack and found the jar that Amah had given me. The old man could not sit up, so I stuck my fingers in the water and rubbed some on the old man’s lips. He licked it off, and I did it again. After a few minutes, the man seemed to gain strength, and the boy helped him sit up and drink from my jar. When he had enough, he nodded to me. I took it as his way of saying thanks. It was quite different from his nod a few minutes before, telling the boy to jump on me.

  The boy was helping the old man when I stood and started to put the jar back in my knapsack. I saw the boy look at the jar. That was all the water I had, but I handed the jar to the boy and hoisted the knapsack on my shoulders. I started walking away, heading the way I had come. The boy jumped up and motioned me to follow him.

  I hesitated, but he motioned again. I followed him around the mounds of garbage. More people were moving around, and their dark eyes stared at me.

  The boy led me through the barracks to the street on the other side. I was relieved when I recognized where I was. This was the way I used to walk to Auntie Boxin’s house when I went to the Chinese school. I smiled to thank him. He didn’t smile back, but he gestured with his hand toward the street, his eyes pleading with me to go.

  I walked straight ahead, turning back only once and saw the boy still watching out for me until I was safely away from the barracks. I turned the corner and could see him no more.

  CHAPTER 21

  As soon as I was out of sight of the boy, I dropped my knapsack and reached for the red box. I took out the dragonfly and latched the chain around my neck. Tucking the pendant under my shirt, I put my hand over it, remembering Chiyoko’s words. “If a dragonfly lands on you, it’s good luck.” I didn’t want to risk losing it, and, besides, I needed all the luck I could get.

  It was daylight now, and I had no trouble finding my way, but I hadn’t been in this area since the foreigners had been forced out. The houses looked deserted, gates left open, and pieces of furniture were strewn in the courtyards as if they were bodies dragged out and left to rot.

  It seemed strange to me that so many foreigners had lived here. That had never seemed strange before. I had just accepted the way it was. It didn’t seem right that foreigners had made this part of China their home, but now they were gone, and I felt sad.

  Where had they been taken after I saw them getting on those buses at the Empire Hotel? Was Tooner still whistling? Did Paul Thompson find another short-wave radio? Had Tommy grown tall like his dad? I wondered if Mrs. Powell was still wearing her fur coat. And Dr. Meyer. Did he regret that he had not gone back to Holland?

  I moved quickly without thinking where to go as if my feet knew the way on their own. When I passed the street where the banner had hung and the drunken soldiers celebrated Singapore’s defeat, I knew I was not far from Auntie Boxin’s. Still the memory of that military music and loud shouts and singing made me clench my hands until I realized there were no roadblocks or guards. Without the foreigners, there was no need to stop anyone or to check their registration or turn people back because of their armbands.

  It was still early when I approached Auntie’s Boxin’s. Even if it took me a while to find the house where Sun was living, he would be busy preparing breakfast for Madame Lu and he might not have time for me. If I knocked on his door, he might not answer.

  I wonder if Chiyoko has left me a message? Thinking I had time to go to the secret garden and still get to Sun’s in time, I turned toward the former French district.

  When I reached the French park, I felt disoriented. The rose bushes and fruit trees that had lined the walkway were cut down or badly damaged. The sandbox where Mei-mei used to play with the other foreign children was destroyed and the sand scattered.

  The row of shops fared no better. I was stunned to find the green and white awnings ripped down, lying in charred shreds. The bakery was burned. The shop windows were broken, and trash lay across the front. The iron gates of the French ambassador’s residence were barred with a heavy chain.

  The Rue de France was almost deserted. Only a few people were about, some pushing carts or carrying loads, but there was no sign of the former life I had known there. No rickshaws or pedicabs, no minitruck drivers honking and yelling at a bicycle or cart driver to get out of the way. And no policeman with his whistle and white-gloved hand to direct the noisy traffic. But also, there were no Japanese guards! The four soldiers with rifles and bayonets were no longer posted at the intersection. I crossed without needing the sweet potato man to hide behind.

  I was relieved to see that St. George’s Cathedral was still standing as before. The three crosses, three domes, and three arches were just the same, but it looked cold and empty. I quickly slipped down the path through the cemetery.

  The oleander bushes were overgrown, and I had to push them back to find the hole in the wall. Despite more bricks having fallen on the ground, the hole seemed narrower than I remembered. Afraid that I couldn’t get through, I dropped to my knees and looked through the gap to the garden. I couldn’t see past the bushes on the other side. I took off my knapsack, and turning sideways as I had before, I squeezed through and reached back for my bag.

  The garden felt completely abandoned. The broken glass on the top of the walls seemed useless because places in the wall had tumbled down. The statue on the fountain had fallen over and was hanging upside down in twisted vines. Weeds had taken over the rest of the place.

  It made me sad, but I didn’t waste time and looked for the pile of bricks that marked the spot.

  I pulled the brick sticking out from the wall and let it drop it to the ground. Looking in, I could see something in the hollow space. My heart leapt. My fingers reached for a folded piece of paper.

  The paper was dingy and the writing faded. In some places I could barely make out what it said.

  Nini,

  I am afraid you will never see this. I heard the foreigners were taken away. I’m afraid your mother or your whole family is gone.

  After father was forced------ mother has been ill ------don’t try to come to the clinic. ----- dangerous. I will ----

  The last part was blurred, but I had learned the most important thing—when she wrote this note, Chiyoko was still living at the clinic with her mother.

  But she thinks I have been taken away with the other foreigners! I must leave something for her.

  I wished I had brought the letters that I had written to her, but they would never fit in the hole. I was afraid that even if I left a message, she no longer came to look.

  So much time had passed since she wrote this message that she might have moved. I wanted to see her so desperately. I wanted to knock on the clinic door, but what if she didn’t live there anymore? What if someone there arrested me? If I got caught, I would never find Sun and my family would never find me!

  I’ve come this far. I have to see her.

  I put Chiyoko’s note in my knapsack, and without placing the brick back in the hole, I left the garden through the gate.

  The sky had lightened as I moved from the alley to the street. The shops were
closed. Bodies that had been sleeping against walls moved like dark shadows. The smell of urine stung my nostrils. I held on to my knapsack tighter with each step.

  I was relieved when I saw the building with the sign, Closed in the name of the Emperor of Japan. The red paint on the sign was faded and peeling. I passed the clinic doors and went around to the unmarked door in the back.

  My hand froze as I started to knock. What if Chiyoko’s family had been forced to move and someone else opened the door? I would be standing face to face with a stranger. I hesitated. Then knowing I had no other way to see Chiyoko, I knocked.

  My heart pounded. When no one answered, I stepped away, then knocked even louder.

  After a minute or so, the door opened slightly. My heart leapt to my throat, and I couldn’t speak.

  The silence seemed to last forever. The person on the other side of the door spoke first. It was a man speaking Chinese.

  “The clinic has been closed a long time. Not taking any patients. Don’t come here anymore,” he said and shut the door.

  I spoke up quickly. “Please. I’m not coming for the clinic. I’m looking for Chiyoko.” The door stayed closed, but I didn’t hear the clank of the latch.

  The man’s voice came through the door. “Chiyoko? How do you know Chiyoko?”

  “I’m Nini. I’m her school friend.”

  “Is anyone with you?”

  “No.”

  The door opened. The man was dressed in a robe, his hair uncombed.

  “Nini! Of course I remember you.” His voice softened. “But we thought . . . we thought you had been taken away.”

  The door opened wide.

  “Come inside quickly. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. We have to be careful. How in the world have you survived? Come upstairs. Chiyoko will be so glad to see you!” Dr. Mori changed from Chinese to English somewhere in the middle of his greeting.

  As we walked up the stairs, Dr. Mori continued. “I apologize for my English. I have no opportunities to use it now. No English-speaking people come to the hospital. I am usually there, but I’m so glad I am home today. Chiyoko will be so happy. So will my wife—she needs some cheering up.”

  Dr. Mori opened the door to the apartment upstairs and told me to go in first. Mrs. Mori lay on the sofa under the window. The window was covered with black cloth, the only light coming from a small lamp on the table beside her.

  Chiyoko was sitting beside her. The darkness around her eyes was no match for the brightness in her face when she saw me. I was overjoyed. We laughed at the surprise of seeing each other.

  “You’re taller,” I said.

  “So are you,” she laughed. My hair was in long braids, hers tied in back.

  Mrs. Mori welcomed me. Her voice was hoarse, and she apologized for not getting up.

  Dr. Mori began to explain their situation.

  “As you can see, the officers closed our clinic and threatened to send Chiyoko and her mother to Japan. I convinced them to let them stay since her mother is Chinese and this is her home. I have been an outcast ever since we married. At first, I was forbidden to work at the hospital, but my help is desperately needed. There are so few Japanese doctors here. So, I agreed to work at the hospital for long periods. Chiyoko has taken care of her mother. But now—”

  “I couldn’t have made it without Chiyoko,” her mother said. She coughed and spit into a handkerchief. I recognized that cough.

  Her father continued, “I have been able to get medicine and food for both of them from the hospital. Otherwise, we couldn’t have made it.”

  Her mother interrupted. “It’s all right. I am sure she understands, but she has come for a reason. Would you like some tea?”

  Before I could say anything, Chiyoko grabbed my hand. “Yes, let’s make some tea. Come with me.”

  As soon as we were in the kitchen, Chiyoko lit the stove, and I said, “I just saw your message. I had to come! You see—”

  “My message! I left that message nearly three years ago. There was no other way to contact you. Hearing nothing, I assumed you were taken away with the foreigners.”

  “No, no. I saw them being forced on the buses. I told Da about it and we moved that night. We have kept Ma hidden inside the house all this time. Isabella and Auntie Boxin live upstairs. But I’m worried. Auntie Boxin . . . she coughs like your mother.”

  “Oh, Nini, I fear that Mother will die.”

  “Don’t think that way. She must hold on.”

  “But I don’t think she can make it much longer. She only gets weaker and coughs so much.”

  As she was preparing the tea, I took my necklace off. “Chiyoko, your dragonfly has helped me.”

  Chiyoko stared at the bulging eyes and blue-green wings.

  “You must wear it now. It will remind you that change is coming. It’s good luck to wear the dragonfly.”

  I put the necklace around her neck, and she held it with her hand, tears in her eyes.

  “Thank you, Nini. I need this so much.”

  The water was boiling now. “I’m sorry, but this is all we have.” She was holding a tin of barley tea. “Is this all right?”

  “Of course, it is. We haven’t had tea of any sort for a long time.”

  When she had a pot of tea ready, she carried a tray with four cups to the other room.

  Dr. Mori was standing by the sofa where Chiyoko’s mother lay. He had set two chairs and a small table nearby and motioned me to sit there. Chiyoko poured tea and the four of us talked. I told them everything that had happened to us and then about Mei-mei and why I had come. Dr. Mori said medicine was in short supply, but that he would send something with me that would help her rest. Then he told me the news.

  “The people at the hospital are talking of nothing else. The Americans are bombing Tokyo. The destruction, fires are everywhere.”

  “What does it mean?” I asked, staring at Dr. Mori.

  “No one knows for sure, but the end must be near.”

  “Do you mean the war is over?”

  “No,” he said. “Not yet. At least not in China. Anything can still happen.”

  Chiyoko’s mother was agitated. “Why has it taken so long?”

  “It may take longer,” Dr. Mori cautioned. “We must be careful.”

  Chiyoko was nearly in tears. “But it can’t take longer. It can’t! Something has to change.” She reached her hand to the necklace.

  We talked about the state of the war a bit longer until I realized the time. “I must go! I have to find Sun and get home tonight.”

  Chiyoko dashed into the kitchen and came back with a small packet of barley tea. “Here, take this. Tell Mei-mei as soon as things change, we will come see her.”

  Dr. Mori gave me a small bottle of medicine and said, “Tell Mei-mei this may help her sleep. But she must be strong and we will come to see her, as soon as the war ends.”

  My voice choked as I said goodbye. “Thank you. You have given me more than tea and medicine. You have given me hope.”

  CHAPTER 22

  I was tired by the time I reached Auntie Boxin’s. The house looked different than it had the night when we first arrived in the rickshaws. I had been intimidated in the dark with Auntie Boxin at the top of the steps, but now it seemed dilapidated; the paint was peeling, and an upstairs shutter had fallen off.

  How strange it seemed that only Auntie Boxin and Isabella had lived in this huge house; such a waste. When Auntie Boxin moved out, she hadn’t sold it, so I assumed it must be abandoned.

  I was surprised when I heard noises coming from inside—the sound of voices, the clinking of dishes. Does Auntie Boxin know someone is living in her house? I should find out who and tell her.

  I slipped around to the back, following the servants’ entrance, creeping along the shrubs below the windows. I could see into the kitchen. M
en were sitting around a table. They were wearing loose pants and white undershirts in the heat. The window was open, and a fan was blowing. One of the men left the room. The others were arguing. I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  I moved closer, pushing a branch away from my face so I could see more clearly, when I heard a man’s voice behind me say in Japanese, “Hey! What are you doing?”

  I dropped the branch and gasped. Looking down so he wouldn’t see my face, I noticed he wore only slippers. He must have come outside hastily.

  “You little runt! What are you doing here?” His voice was gruff.

  I had to use all my wits. I dropped to my knees and bowed completely to the ground. I began begging him in Chinese not to hurt me.

  “I will teach you not to spy!”

  He moved toward me, as if to kick me, but his slipper fell off and he stopped. He grabbed my hair by the braids and yanked my head back. Then he pulled on the knapsack strap and jerked me up. One strap of the knapsack came off my shoulder. He grabbed at it with one hand and his other hand flew up as if to strike me.

  Just then a shout came from inside. It sounded like someone calling him. He hesitated, dropped his arm and said something in disgust, put his slipper back on, and turned toward the door, calling to the others. His slippers flip-flopped up the back steps and into the house.

  I jerked my knapsack back on my shoulders and ran out the servants’ entrance and down the street, my heart pounding. I was not sure where to go. Several houses had brick walls, but Amah had said it was the one on the corner opposite Auntie Boxin’s. I ran to the one on the corner and banged desperately on the gate. The wood gate was too high to see over and had no latticework.

  I looked back over my shoulder. No one was coming. I beat on the gate again. I heard a faint female voice ask from the other side.

  “What is your business?”

  “Please, I am looking for Sun Baosan,” I pleaded.