Robert gasped and woke with a start. He sat up. It took a moment for the wild beating of his heart to subside as his eyes searched the dark bedroom for intruders. He reached under his pillow and touched his pistol to make sure it was still there.
His fears were like cancerous growths eating him. Was the front door strong enough to withstand an assault? Then he remembered that Guan-jiah’s had reinforced the front door. The eunuch had screwed iron straps to the inside surface. Once the bar was placed in the four brackets, the door was almost invincible like a wall.
It would be difficult if not impossible for anyone to break in. He wasn’t sure if he had checked the door before coming upstairs. He was tempted to see if it were still locked. On the other hand, he knew it was his habit to check before going to bed.
He thought of the rope ladder next. He slipped from under the thick blankets. When his bare feet touched the frozen floorboards, he sucked in his breath but was careful not to wake Ayaou. He stood naked in the dark and listened to her breathing until he was sure she still slept. Then he checked to see if the rope ladder was where he had left it below the one window in the bedroom.
Soon after Shao-mei’s funeral, he’d bought this rope ladder from a British ship. If Ward or another assassin set fire to this house as they had done to the cottage, Robert planned to use that rope ladder to escape from the upstairs bedroom into the alley.
He knelt and reached under the bed. Once his fingers touched the double-barreled shotgun, he relaxed. With that weapon, he could blast anyone in the alley before climbing to safety.
He picked up a pocket watch from the side table and moved to the window where there was enough moonlight for him to see that it was one in the morning.
Robert awoke two or three times a night always at the same times. He checked the pistol under his pillow first; the rope ladder second and then the shotgun. Sometimes he went downstairs to inspect the front door and the window shutters though he had done that before going to bed.
* * * *
That next morning, Robert and Ayaou sat on the benches at the kitchen table with the uneven top. They ate rice porridge from chipped, white ceramic bowls. The only sound was the crackling fire from the stove.
In my prayers,” he said, his voice hollow as if it belonged to a stranger. “I keep asking God to explain why Shao-mei suffered so horribly before she died. God doesn’t answer. I know He has more important things to do than to explain why a sixteen year old died such a horrible death and took her unborn child with her.” He cursed himself. He regretted speaking his thoughts. He should have kept his mouth shut.
“It was Ward’s revenge,” Ayaou replied. She looked old beyond her years. She was nineteen, his age when he had arrived in China more than three years earlier. She’d been sixteen when he first met her in that battle with the Tapings. She had been so beautiful and full of life. That’s why he had fallen in love with her so easily. Now she was more like a shadow of her former self.
There was no expression on her face. It was as if she were carved from sandstone. He was afraid she might crumble.
“After all, you forced him to sell me to you,” she said. “You pointed a pistol at him and offered him no choice. He wanted to keep me, even if it meant throwing me to his men and then feeding me to the dogs. That would have been better. At least, Shao-mei would be alive and happy with you.”
“Don’t think that way, Ayaou.” Robert wanted to say something cheerful, but he couldn’t. It was impossible to get nice things to come out of his mouth.
“I’m afraid Ward isn’t finished with us yet,” he said. He and Ayaou had become lifeless puppets without strings to guide them. He didn’t know what to do except get up each morning and let his legs carry him to the consulate where he worked as an interpreter.
“If Ward learns you are alive, he will return and murder you too.” The words leaked out. He couldn’t stop them. He didn’t tell her there was nothing he could do to protect her. After all, Ward commanded an army of brutal mercenaries. Also, due to the battles Ward’s army had won, the Ch’ing Dynasty had granted Ward Chinese citizenship. Robert, on the other hand, was almost a nobody. “You have to be careful, Ayaou. For your safety, you have to do as I say no matter what.”
When she didn’t respond, he said, “Ayaou.”
She held her rice bowl in both hands. Her mouth hung open as she stared at nothing with eyes that looked empty.
_________________________________________
Links to Reviews for "Our Hart"
Honorable Mention in General Fiction
