“Only because I had to. Because of my father,” Henry said. He told Louis what had happened the day his father found the letter. “I tried to get word to you, believe me. I’ve been looking everywhere for you—even in dreams.”
“And here I thought you’d gone and forgotten me.” Louis played it light, but Henry knew him too well. He was hurt. Maybe even angry.
“Never. I could never forget you, Louis,” Henry said, and he wished once more that this weren’t a dream and that he could hold Louis.
“I went on over to your house lookin’ for you. Thought Flossie might know somethin’.”
Henry’s heartbeat quickened. “What happened?”
“Found your maman sitting in the cemetery talking to the angels. She didn’t know nothin’. About ’at time, your daddy come out and found me talkin’ to her. He knew who I was, all right. Told me I’d better never come ’round there again or he’d shoot me as a trespasser. Not that that woulda kept me away.” Louis’s smile was short-lived. “He told me you’d left town and that you didn’t want nothin’ to do with me no more—you didn’t even want to say good-bye.” Louis’s voice went feathery. “He told me you hated me.”
“That bastard,” Henry spat. “But what about all those letters I sent you? And two telegrams—one when I reached St. Louis, one from New York. When you didn’t write me back, I thought…”
Louis shook his head. “Didn’t get no letters. No telegrams, either.”
“My father,” Henry said. He didn’t like to think that anybody at Celeste’s would sell them out, but money was money, and his father had a lot of it. It would be just like him to pay someone to intercept Henry’s letters and make sure they were thrown out before they could even be delivered. If so, that meant his father had Henry’s return address in New York and had done nothing to try to find him. It was a relief to know that his father wouldn’t drag him off to military school, but it stung, too, knowing that it was easier for his father to erase his only son’s existence than it was for him to tolerate the disappointment of who his son really was.
“But you’re here now, cher,” Louis said. “We’re here now.”
Louis raised his palm toward Henry’s and Henry followed suit, their fingers nearly touching.
Wai-Mae’s mouth hadn’t stopped moving the entire walk through the wood. “Do you know the story of Mu Guiying? She is my favorite of the Dao Ma Dan. When she battles with Yang Zongbao and falls in love with him, saving his life? It’s the most beautiful love story,” she said, huffing alongside Ling like an excited puppy. There’d still been no sign of Henry. “I think it’s my favorite. Except for the Courtesan Yu Tang Chun. Or the Drunken Beauty. Or possibly the Romance of the Three Kingdoms.”
“Henry!” Ling called again, more desperately. “Henryyyy!”
“I’m sorry, Ling. Uncle says that I talk too much, and I’m a silly girl and my head is too full of romantic stories to be much good,” Wai-Mae said in cheerful apology. “Would you like to know a secret?”
“Not particularl—”
“I am to be married soon!” Wai-Mae exclaimed. “We’ve never met, but I have heard my husband-to-be is very handsome, with kind eyes and a high forehead. He is a wealthy merchant in America, in New York City, and once I’m there, I’ll live very well with servants to wait on me and plenty of money to send back to my family. I’m traveling to San Francisco now on the Lady Liberty. I hate the ship. It makes me so sick,” Wai-Mae said, putting a hand on her stomach.