The Wishing Trees - By John Shors Page 0,129

family and my mates. I moved to Sydney and went to a uni there. Then, after graduating, I buzzed off for Japan.”

“Wasn’t that hard?”

“It was hard on my mum and dad. They’re still as cross as a frog in a sock about it.”

“A frog in a sock?”

“That’s right, luv. They aren’t too pleased.” He watched birds ride on an updraft, soaring above a nearby building. “Change like that, like saying good-bye to Holly, can be a real kick in the teeth.”

“It is.”

“I agree, Roo. But do you know what?”

“What?”

“Those changes, the ones I made, led me to your mum. They led me to you. If I had never left the bush, you wouldn’t exist. And I wouldn’t have created the loveliest thing to come out of my life.”

“But you might have had another girl.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I reckon that doesn’t matter. Because there’s only one you, and I don’t fancy anyone else.”

“And I don’t fancy another daddy.”

“You won’t have one, luv. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid. Like a dingo with his looks.”

On the Nile, a mighty rust-stained barge sounded its horn, shooing feluccas away. She lifted her binoculars and watched the barge force its way up the massive river. “Daddy?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry I’ve complained on our trip. I’m trying not to. Even though I don’t always like the food or all the mosquitoes or saying good-bye to my friends.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Thank you for taking me.”

He put his hand on her knee, stroking an old scar, remembering how she had fallen off her bike. “You’re welcome, luv. And thank you. Thank you for being a perfect traveling companion.”

“Can we go down and check your e-mail? Maybe there’s a message from Rupee or Holly. Or maybe Leslie sent us another picture from Nepal.”

Ian finished his wine, and hers, then glanced at the river, wondering what Kate would think of it, wishing she had seen it. She had always loved water, whether it was salt or fresh, blue or brown.

After putting on his shoes and grabbing his wallet, Ian followed Mattie out the door. She walked down the hallway with purpose, eager to see if her friends had written. Ian knew that she wasn’t as content with their situation as she pretended and figured that she was embarrassed by her breakdown at the zoo and was trying to act older.

The main floor of the hotel was populated by people from all over the world. Men in Western-style suits or long tunics sat in front of low tables and talked business. Women, some wearing a head scarf and some not, soothed babies and kept track of giggling children. An adjacent, ornately decorated room revealed groups of men surrounding giant water pipes, know as hookahs, which were made of silver or brass and had bowls at the top that contained smoldering tobacco. The men sucked on colorful hoses, clouds of smoke escaping from between their lips.

The business center contained several desktop computers, chairs, and a printer. Ian and Mattie sat at the farthest monitor from the door, and Ian got online and opened his e-mail. He, too, wondered if anyone had written. To his disappointment, there was no e-mail from the orphanage’s director, which caused his stomach to clench. He didn’t understand why the director wasn’t responding and vowed to make a phone call the next morning, to call and call until he heard that Rupee was fine.

Balancing out his mood was an e-mail from Georgia. He opened her message and moved aside so that Mattie could also read it.

Dear Mattie,

This is Holly, and I am typing on my mom’s computer at her office. We’ve been home two days now, and I miss you and Vietnam. I wore my new dress again last night, and the necklace that your dad had made for me. I showed his necklace to my friends at school and they loved it. I do too.

I wish we could go swimming again in the ocean. There are beaches here, but not like what we saw in Vietnam. And there are almost no stars in Hong Kong. The city lights make them go away.

I asked my mom if we could travel to New York someday to visit you. She said if my grades were high that we could probably go. Maybe at the end of the summer. I plan on working hard because I want to see you again.

My fingers are tired from all of this typing, so I am going to say good-bye. My mom attached some photos from

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