After a bit of a walk, Amelia led them to a cart where she ordered youtiao for all three of them.
“These are really the best within a two-mile walk,” Amelia said gravely as she watched the cook press long strips of dough together with a chopstick and then throw them in a wok to fry in oil. “When I have a chance, I always make my way over here. It takes a little time, but Merry enjoys the walk and I enjoy the food.”
She laughed.
God, he was really a fool for her laughter.
The cook turned the dough in the oil using chopsticks, rolling them in swift sure movements. Finally, when the dough was golden brown, he lifted them out. Amelia held out her own chopstick; he skewered the sticks on, one by one, so they could dangle.
A shop a few doors down sold soy milk. Amelia purchased some, and then the three of them traipsed back to Amelia’s home, where they settled around a table. Amelia found tablecloths and spoons and chopsticks for all, and Merry situated herself at Amelia’s knee.
His youtiao really was delicious, crunchy on the outside and steamy on the inside, with the sweet, beany taste of the soy milk proving a perfect contrast.
“So,” Amelia said to Mr. Acheson. “Any thoughts on how you will tell her?”
This appeared to be part of a conversation the two of them had been having for a while.
“Well.” Mr. Acheson grimaced. “She will be extremely annoyed with me, that’s for sure. But the issue is less ‘how do I tell her I’ve quit being a missionary’ and more ‘what will I say if she asks why.’”
Ah. Grayson hadn’t known Leland had quit his work as a missionary. He turned to the man. “And the truth won’t work, I suppose.”
Mr. Acheson exchanged a glance with Amelia.
“Mother is not always good with the truth.” Amelia said this diplomatically.
Her brother snorted. “The truth would go like this: ‘Mother, it turns out that I think you and your fellow missionaries are doing a great deal of damage. Now that I’ve experienced it firsthand, I can no longer take part.’”
“She will be extremely annoyed,” Amelia said, turning to Grayson, “in the way that only Mother can be. She will send letters. Annoying letters.”
“Lots of them.” Mr. Acheson scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“She’ll come to an understanding eventually.”
Leland sighed. “No, she really won’t. And you wouldn’t know because in the end, you always do side with her. I can never quite understand it.”
Grayson glanced across the table.
Amelia was frowning. “Side with her? Mother and I disagree. That’s why I’m here in Shanghai rather than married to another missionary.”
“Yes,” Leland said with a patient sigh. “But you chose her, you know.”
“What do you mean? I’m here. Not with her.”
“I don’t mean that.” Leland shook his head and dunked a piece of fried dough in soy milk. “Tell me to hold my tongue if you wish, but I’ve never been able to understand. If my actual mother had been coming around asking to speak with me for years on end, I would at least have met her.”
Mr. Acheson said that so casually, popping the dough in his mouth, that Grayson at first thought he must have misheard. But no. Cold crept up Grayson’s spine.
There was utter silence at the table. Amelia looked rooted in place, her chopsticks poised over her soy milk while her own bread grew soggy.
Perhaps, after a few seconds, Mr. Acheson realized something was amiss.
“What?” he asked. “You did freeze her out.”
Amelia’s left hand curled into a fist around her napkin, knuckles white. “What do you mean?”
Leland shook his head. “I know you don’t like talking about this. It’s your decision. I have tried to respect that over the years, but—”
“No, no, go back to the first part. What do you mean?” Amelia dropped her chopsticks. “Tell me what you mean, my actual mother.” Her voice was quavering now. “Coming around? My decision? What decision?”
For a moment, the two looked at each other, eyes wide. Then Leland put a hand to his mouth. His skin went deathly pale, then shaded into green.
Without saying a word, he crossed to the door and opened it.
“Leland?” Amelia jumped to her feet. “Leland? Where are you going? You can’t say something like that and just leave.”
He didn’t answer—at least not in words. But as Grayson stood, Amelia’s brother lurched forward onto his knees, facing the shrubbery just outside Amelia’s door. His shoulders heaved. And then he vomited into the bushes.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Amelia’s heart was rabbiting in her chest. She felt disconnected from the world around her, as if the ground had suddenly tilted beneath her feet. As if gravity had suspended its operations.
It took all her strength to see to the necessary physical details of the disaster that was unfolding around her. A towel for Leland. Tea. A pitcher of water. Her brother kept apologizing over and over.
By the time the mess had been cleaned up, a little color had returned to Leland’s face. Not much. He still looked wan and sickly.
His voice was shaking. “I owe you an explanation. And an apology.”
Amelia shook her head. “Just the explanation will do.”
He exhaled, rubbing his temples. “I met your Chinese mother when I was twelve. You were almost seven.”
Her head spun. Seventeen years ago he had met Amelia’s mother. Seventeen years. A year after she’d been left behind. Back when she still believed her mother would return. Seventeen years was so long ago.
“Go on.” Her voice didn’t seem to belong to her. Her lips felt numb. The words might have come from nowhere.
Leland just shook his head. “Mother said you wanted nothing to do with her. That’s why she insisted on moving from Shanghai to Fuzhou—so you wouldn’t have to know about it.”
Amelia felt very, very cold. And confused. So confused. What he was saying did not seem possible. It did not seem likely. She had imagined her Chinese Ah Ma coming back for her so many times. She had convinced herself the memory or her promising to do so was a lie.
But if her memory of her mother saying she would come back wasn’t a lie, then… Amelia shook her head. Logically, she knew what the answer must be. But her brain skipped every time she contemplated it. Skipped like a stone that refused to acknowledge the lake.
Leland went on, unaware that Amelia’s entire world was combusting inside her head. “She said that she had asked you, but that you were angry that you had been abandoned. She said you didn’t want to speak of the woman, that doing so was painful for you. I asked you about it a few times, but you always said you were never going to see her…” He trailed off.
“It was painful,” Amelia replied slowly. It had been the source of deep, searing pain. Because she remembered her mother saying she would come back, and however confused and muddled that memory was, she’d been told over and over that she had imagined it. That it hadn’t happened. That she needed to move forward.
The stone stopped skipping, dropping into deep, still waters. There was only one explanation.