The Wishing Trees - By John Shors Page 0,107

it but noticed the man at the corner, holding his caged dove.

“Do you want to free it, luv?” Ian asked.

Mattie nodded. “Mommy would like that.”

“Then let’s make her happy.”

They joined the man, and Ian handed him five dollars. The local smiled, revealing several missing teeth. “When you set bird free,” he said, “you show your kindness to world. And then good luck, it come to you; it make you live longer; it make you happier.”

The dove cooed, ruffling its wings, as if it knew that it was about to take flight.

Ian turned to Mattie. “Why don’t you free her, Roo?”

She watched the bird, wanting to share the good luck with her father, wanting the world to know that he was kind. “Can we do it together?” she asked the man. “If we do it together, will we both get good luck?”

“Yes, I think so. A bird has two wings. So two people can release it.”

“Will it fly high? To someone above?”

The man glanced up, squinting from the sun’s glare. He then lowered his gaze to Mattie, appearing to study her. “Seven year ago, my father, he die. So, I go to river and let my favorite dove go free. I give him to my father. And that dove, he fly so high, like he want to meet my father. This make me happy. And this bird here, she strong. I think she do same thing.”

Mattie smiled faintly, watching the dove, thinking about her mother’s note. “Let’s hold the cage high, Daddy. So we can help her fly high.”

“Sure, luv. That’s a great idea. A real beaut.”

The man handed Mattie the cage, which she lifted until it was level with her eyes. The dove continued to coo.

“Can you open the door?” Mattie asked.

Ian put his fingers on the delicate bamboo. “Happily.”

“Good-bye, little bird,” Mattie said. “Fly high. Say hello to this man’s father and . . . and to my mommy.”

The cage’s door swung open. For a few seconds, the bird didn’t stir. But then it seemed to sense its looming freedom, leaping forward, spreading its wings. A feather fell as the dove took flight, rising above the street, a blur of white against a blue sky. Mattie reached for her father’s hand as the bird continued to climb. He squeezed her fingers as it soared higher, heading straight to the south, as if it knew the way home.

The dove disappeared.

As her father thanked the man, Mattie bent down and picked up the feather. She opened her sketch pad and carefully placed the feather between two pages. I’ll always keep you, she thought, closing the sketch pad and again taking her father’s hand.

TWO DAYS LATER, IAN AND MATTIE WAITED for Georgia and Holly outside Ho Chi Minh City’s airport. Though the airport was almost brand-new, and would have looked at home in any major city, nonpassengers were barred from entering it by a chain-link fence. Hundreds of locals were gathered behind this fence, awaiting the arrival of loved ones, friends, and business associates. People were orderly but tried to get as close as possible to the fence, stepping forward when spaces opened. Fortunately, Ian was taller than most everyone, and with Mattie sitting on his shoulders, they could stand in the back and still have a good view of passengers leaving the building.

As Ian waited, he wondered if he was crazy to be meeting Georgia. A part of him wanted to see her, but he also feared that the looming encounter would only further confuse Mattie. They planned to travel together for six days, and at that point, Mattie would be forced to again say good-bye. This time there wouldn’t be a hello shortly afterward. He and Mattie would journey to a new country, as Kate had asked. And then they would return to America. Whatever bonds had been forged between Mattie and her new companions would be severed. Whatever steps forward she’d taken would be undone. Mattie wanted a sibling, but Holly wasn’t her sister and never would be.

“Daddy?” she asked, leaning down from his shoulders.

“Yeah, Roo?”

“Is it . . . okay to be excited?”

“About Holly arriving?”

“Yes.”

He looked up at her. “Of course, luv. What do you mean?”

“I mean, we read Mommy’s last letter. And that made me sad. But now I’m excited.”

“I’m glad you’re excited,” he replied, squeezing her leg. “That’s a good thing.”

“Why?”

“Because I reckon that being excited is one of the best feelings in the world. Right up there with love and joy. And after you’ve been

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