The Secrets of a Fire King by Kim Edwards Read Free Book Online Page A

ordinary name, but it means sea.”
    “Maria,” she spoke the words, blurring the r in a way that 30
    The Secrets of a Fire King
    reminded him of a day, long ago, when he had tried to teach her the sound— raspberry , rhubarb —in the field behind the house.
    Now, as then, it sounded awkward in her mouth, and some of the old anger flared up within him. It was a diffi cult sound, true enough, but she had been in America now for nearly four years.
    “That’s right,” he said. “Maria. Ma- ree -ah. That’s her name.”
    “You call her Maria, then,” she said, turning back to her letter.
    Her long hair was tied in elastic and made a black line down her back. “But I will call her Sea.”
    “Why are you so stubborn about this?” he asked, throwing down his newspaper. But she did not answer him. She kept her eyes fixed on the letter, her fingers shaping the complex, mysterious characters of a language he could not fully understand.
    Once the children were born the years passed quickly, one following another in smooth succession, although Rob never lost the sense that he was leading a double life. Like the branches of a young tree, it seemed the parts of his life grew less and less connected with the passing of time. His days forked off into the community where he told jokes, swapped stories, argued, and worked in his own language. Pulling into his driveway in the evenings, he had to make a conscious effort to switch from one world, one language, to another. It was like stepping into the past, he sometimes thought, or walking with a single step from one country to another. He put his toolbox in the shed and stepped through the door with his pockets full of sawdust. There he found his family gathered around the table, folding animals out of paper, or singing songs while Jade Moon sliced narrow rings of spring onion, or working diligently at the complicated characters of her alphabet. The children were hers from birth until they went to school, and if their world was an isolated one, Jade Moon saw to it that it was full of learning, full of joy.
    “They should learn to speak English,” he said one night when the children were in bed. “Even if you won’t, the children must.” She put down her embroidery and looked up at him.
    “Let me tell you a story,” she said. “When I was a young girl Spring, Mountain, Sea
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    my parents had a friend who went to Hong Kong for business.
    While they were there they had a baby girl, and since they were rich, they hired a local girl to care for this baby during the days.
    Two years passed, then three, and though the baby was happy and healthy, still it did not speak. They grew worried, and even consulted a doctor. Then one day they were taking a walk, and they stopped in a shop for some food. The baby was babbling. They thought it was just baby talk until suddenly the store owner, an old Chinese woman who also spoke a little of their language, looked up smiling. ‘How nice,’ she said. ‘Baby speaks Chinese!’ ” Rob started to laugh, but saw at once that it was the wrong reaction.
    “No,” Jade Moon said. “How do you think that mother felt, missing her own baby’s first words? How do you think she felt, not being able to speak with her own child? These are my children too,” she said. “Not just yours and not just America’s. I want to be able to tell them about my life.” They were her children until they went to school, but in the end Jade Moon lost each one to America. Rob grew to dread the early days of school, the way his children came home, one after another, at first in tears and later drawn into themselves, isolated and bewildered by the unfamiliar language. Yet it amazed Rob, too, how quickly they learned, with an aptitude that surpassed even his own. Within weeks they were chattering, imperfectly but fl uently, to the other children. He tried to help by speaking English with them in the car, or while Jade Moon was outside hanging the wash or gardening.