The Buddha's Diamonds by Carolyn Marsden Read Free Book Online

him to the center of the yard.
    While Tinh had held the tray, Banoi sat smiling like the Buddha.
    Tinh thought of the Buddha sitting in the temple, now flooded with light. If the real Buddha were here now, he wouldn’t be afraid. He’d be walking with his relaxed half smile.
    The Buddha knew how to be happy no matter what. Even confronted with danger. Even with the villages and countryside in ruins.
    Yet Tinh had turned away from happiness. Why hadn’t he stayed and learned the secret of the Buddha’s smile?
    The sun rode lower.
    Tinh took the green pendant from his pocket. As it grew warm in his hand, he imagined the Buddha walking beside him, taking slow, deliberate steps.
    Tinh’s own steps calmed. His foot landed — heel, then toe — on the copper-colored sand. Then the other foot arrived. The sand closed over the footprints behind him.
    By tomorrow the boat would be ready for the ocean once again. But for now, he was just walking over the sand. The repaired propeller and the flower bouquet firmly in his hands, Tinh began to smile.
    He was ready to accept the Buddha’s diamonds: the first stars, the dome of the sky overhead, the birds hurrying to nest, his own heart beating.
    Steadily, Tinh crossed the sand dunes. No ghosts came to torture him. No land mines exploded.
    He reached the cemetery as the light faded. He found the gravestones of Banoi and Ong Noi. Kneeling, he laid down his tiny bouquet for his beloved ancestors. Beside it, he laid the pendant. Taking a last look at the Buddha’s smile, Tinh walked into the night.

The next morning, Lan and Ma came to the beach with Tinh and Ba.
    Lan wore only a thin bandage now and walked easily, holding Tinh’s hand. “Tomorrow we’ll build a kite together,” he told her.
    â€œA pink one?” she asked.
    â€œThat’ll depend on what color paper you can find.”
    â€œPink. I have some pink.”
    Lan and Ma had spent many hours removing the dead fish from the net and mending the holes. Now the nets lay ready in the boat.
    As Ba attached the propeller to the engine, he said, “No one could tell that this propeller was once broken.”
    Tinh smiled.
    Ma and Lan lashed the slim statue to the bow, along with a sprig of leaves and sticks of incense.
    The four of them — Third Uncle helping with the final shove — pushed the boat down the sand and into the waves. It floated out, reflected in the water, no longer golden, but a pearly gray.
    The storm had changed the boat, Tinh thought. And it had changed him, too.
    Ba pulled on the cord, and the engine sprang to life.
    As they shoved off — Ma and Lan and Third Uncle waving — Tinh’s heart felt as large as the huge blue ocean. He saw Phu on the shore, the red car in his arms. This bamboo boat, he suddenly realized, was better than one hundred remote-controlled cars.
    As they made for the open sea, Tinh lit a stick of incense. The smoke drifted in the light breeze.
    When Hai Nhuan was out of sight, Ba silenced the engine.
    He and Tinh threw out the nets, then cast the lines.
    Tinh waved to Trang Ton in his green boat across the water.
    Ba caught a small brown fish and Tinh a huge
ca ngu,
which he pulled in without Ba’s help.
    â€œYou’ve caught a bigger fish than I have,” Ba said. “You’re growing up, Tinh.”
    Tinh smiled.
    When the sun was high overhead, Ba poured diesel into the stove and lit the wood fire.
    Tinh put on the pot of water and added the flavorings. Soon, steam rose, hot and fragrant.
    â€œSomeday, Tinh, this will be yours.” Ba patted the boat.
    â€œOh, Ba . . .” Tinh leaned forward. “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”
    When they headed home in the middle of the afternoon, Tinh steered the boat to shore all by himself.
    Standing side by side, Ma and Lan waited on the beach, wearing their cone-shaped hats.
    When the boat drew close, Tinh ran to the bow and shouted,