A Tricky Proposition(49)

“Saturday night, after the wedding, we’re going to head to my house and talk. We’ll figure out together what to do.” But he suspected the future was already written. “Okay?”

“There’s nothing to figure out.” She slid out of the car. “We’re friends. Nothing is going to change that.”

But as he watched her head toward her front door, Jason knew in the space of a few minutes, everything had changed.





Ten


Ming caught her sister wiping sweaty palms on her denim-clad thighs as she stopped the car in front of her parents’ house and killed the engine. She put her hand over Lily’s and squeezed in sympathy.

“We’ll be okay if we stick together.”

Arm in arm they headed up the front walk. No matter what their opinions were about each other’s decisions, Ming knew they’d always form a unified front when it came to their mother.

Before they reached the front door, it opened and a harlequin Great Dane loped past the handsome sixty-year-old man who’d appeared in the threshold.

“Dizzy, you leave that poor puppy alone,” Patrick Campbell yelled, but his words went unheeded as Dane and Ming’s Yorkie raced around the large front yard.

“Dad, Muffin’s fine.” In fact, the terrier could run circles around the large dog and dash in for a quick nip then be gone again before Dizzy knew what hit her. “Let them run off a little energy.”

After surviving rib-bruising hugs from their father, Ming and Lily captured the two dogs and brought them inside. The house smelled like heaven, and Ming suspected her mother had spent the entire weekend preparing her favorite dishes as well as the special moon cakes.

Ming sat down at her parents’ dining table and wondered how the thing didn’t collapse under the weight of all the food. She’d thought herself too nervous to eat, but once her plate was heaped with a sample of everything, she began eating with relish. Lily’s appetite didn’t match hers. She spent most of the meal staring at her plate and stabbing her fork into the food.

After dinner, they took their moon cakes outside to eat beneath the full moon while their mother told them the story of how the festival came to be.

“The Mongolians ruled China during the Yuan Dynasty,” Helen Campbell would begin, her voice slipping naturally into storytelling rhythm. She was a professor at the University of Houston, teaching Chinese studies, language and literature. “The former leaders from the Sung dynasty wanted the foreigners gone, but all plans to rebel were discovered and stopped. Knowing that the Moon Festival was drawing near, the rebel leaders ordered moon cakes to be baked with messages inside, outlining the attack. On the night of the Moon Festival, the rebels successfully overthrew the government. What followed was the establishment of the Ming dynasty. Today, we eat the moon cakes to remember.”

No matter how often she heard the tale, Ming never grew tired of it. As a first-generation American on her mother’s side, Ming appreciated the culture that had raised her mother. Although as children both Ming and Lily had fought their mother’s attempts to keep them attached to their Chinese roots, by the time Ming graduated from college, she’d become fascinated with China’s history.

She’d visited China over a dozen times when Helen had returned to Shanghai, where her family still lived. Despite growing up with both English and Chinese spoken in the house, Ming had never been fluent in Mandarin. Thankfully her Chinese relatives were bilingual. She couldn’t wait to introduce her own son or daughter to her Chinese family.

Stuffed to the point where it was difficult to breathe, Ming sipped jasmine tea and watched her sister lick sweet bean paste off her fingers. The sight blended with a hundred other memories of family and made her smile.

“I’ve decided to have a baby,” she blurted out.

After her parents exchanged a look, Helen set aside her plate as if preparing to do battle.

“By yourself?”

Ming glanced toward Lily, who’d begun collecting plates. Ever since they’d been old enough to reach the sink, it was understood that their mother would cook and the girls would clean up.

“It’s not the way I dreamed of it happening, but yes. By myself.”

“I know how much you want children, but have you thought everything through?” Her mother’s lips had thinned out of existence.

“Helen, you know she can handle anything she sets her mind to,” her father said, ever supportive.

Ming leaned forward in her chair and looked from one parent to the other. “I’m not saying it’s going to be a picnic, but I’m ready to be a mom.”

“A single mom?” Helen persisted.