30 Red Dresses Page 7

  “No, no, no,” James protested. “Don’t try to start it right away. I mean, I doubt this thing will start at all, but if you try it right now, it’s dead for sure.”

  Munny translated and the owner seemed to get upset.

  “She say you just try to back out of fixing her store. She says you a liar. She says you—”

  James held up a hand to cut him off. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. Tell her to chill out and pop the hood to the truck. Let me see if I can get it running. And if I do, which is a big if, I’ll give her enough money to fix her store and then some.”

  Munny translated and the store owner popped the hood.

  James took one look inside at the muddied engine compartment and let out a long sigh. “Well, let’s get to work.”

  Few people knew that James was an absolute gearhead. He’d always fixed his own vehicles since the time he bought his first—a black 1965 Mercury Caliente. Even after he’d gained his wealth as an author, he still found it relaxing to hang out in his garage full of classic cars and dig under the hood every once in awhile.

  But the mess in front him seemed an exception to this rule. The owner’s son found a stool for him to sit on and brought out a toolbox with some wrenches and a socket set.

  James smiled as Veata climbed up the front of the truck and stood on the dented bumper to get a better look. She seemed entranced with the engine and watched intently as he went to work.

  “First, we disconnect the battery and check the engine oil,” James said. “Good. No water drops on the stick. We don’t have to change the oil.”

  He let Veata wipe the dipstick clean and helped her put it back in place.

  Po and Dith came over and frowned when they saw the engine. They spoke to Munny and walked to the back of the truck.

  “What’d they say?” James asked.

  “They say good luck with that mess. They not know engines very good, but they change the flat tire and clean junk out of truck bed.”

  James nodded. “Well, none of that’s going to matter if I can’t get this rig started. Now I’ve got to check the plugs.”

  Veata nodded as if she knew what he was talking about and said, “Okay, thank you,” causing James to chuckle. He wished he’d taken the time to work on cars with his own kids when they were little. He doubted any of them even knew how to change their own oil.

  I’ve got no one to blame for that except myself.

  He’d always hidden in the garage to work on cars. He’d hidden in his office to write.

  I just hid from everyone, he thought, and felt a pang of guilt stab him in the heart.

  He turned back to Veata. “Okay, you want to help me out?”

  Veata nodded her head. “Help. Okay, thank you.”

  James smiled and patted her on the head. “Good, because I could use a little help right now.”

  James removed all of the spark plugs, letting Veata examine each of them as she laid them in a row. He left the cylinders of the engine wide open and reconnected the battery.

  “Okay, now try to start it up. Let’s see if any water got in the engine.”

  No sooner had the store owner turned the key than dirty brown water shot out of all six cylinders, spraying James and Veata.

  Veata made a disgusted face as she spit the dirty water from her mouth and wiped her eyes.

  “I think there water in engine,” Munny said, safely dry from a few feet away.

  “No. You don’t say?” James replied, wiping his wet face on his sweaty shirt sleeve.

  “Okay, Veata,” James said to the girl. “How about we take a few steps back this time while the engine clears out.”

  Veata nodded. “Help. Okay thank you.”

  James gave instructions for the owner to turn the key again and give it a little gas. It took another minute, but eventually the water stopped spraying from the engine block.

  While James and his little helper reattached the spark plugs and wires, the shop owner and his son slogged back into their muddy shop and up to their apartment above the store.

  They returned with some dry rags and a basket of wrapped rice cakes. There were not enough cakes for each person, but the girls shared amongst themselves, devouring their first taste of food in over a day.

  James shook his head as Veata tried to share her rice cake with him. He didn’t want to take away any food from her or the other girls and insisted she eat it all. But while he was ratcheting the last spark plug in place, the little girl shoved a piece of rice cake into his open mouth.

  Though it was only a small bite, James felt a small surge of energy from the morsel of food. He only hoped they would find some more food before night fell.

  Using the dry towels, James, Veata, and Munny worked to clean and dry the belts, battery, and engine.

  “Okay,” James said crossing his fingers in the air.

  “Okay,” Veata mimicked, crossing her fingers.

  He gave the owner a thumbs up and hoped for the best.

  The store owner turned the key and the truck squealed and shuddered before falling silent.

  The owner tried again with similar results, though this time gray smoke billowed out the exhaust before the engine died.

  James was about to swear when he remembered there was still a little eight-year-old girl at his side. The last thing he needed was her repeating American swear words all day like a parrot.

  “Try one more time,” James called. “But give it a little more gas.”

  Munny translated and the owner gave it another try. The engine whinnied and moaned until the owner slammed her foot on the gas.

  Black smoke shot out of the exhaust. The engine sputtered to life and bawled like a sick kitten, but it was running.

  “Woohoo!” Munny shouted. “Way to go, James! You like MacGyver.”

  James laughed, overjoyed to have the truck running, and surprised by the MacGyver reference.

  The girls piled into the back of the canvas covered truck and Munny claimed a seat on the tailgate next to Chemsi. Since there wasn’t enough room for James in the back, Po and Dith insisted he squeeze into the cab with them.

  But before he could close the door, a little hand grabbed his pant leg and Veata hoisted herself into his lap.

  She pointed a finger at him and narrowed her eyebrows. “Okay, thank you,” she said sternly.

  James laughed. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

  Munny had given Dith general directions for their location, telling them about a monastery on the outskirts of town where they could be dropped off. He still didn’t completely trust the officers and didn’t want to tell them their true destination. Besides, Munny said he didn’t know exactly where the Mongoose House was, only that it was in the area of the Monastery.

  “We ask monastery for direction. They should know where it is. But I no trust police,” Munny had said. He also warned James to keep his eyes open for trouble, or rather, he said, “Keep eyes big for bad things.”

  The truck pulled away from the store slowly, occasionally sliding a bit on the muddy streets, but they made steady progress through the back half of the city. The language barrier proved difficult at first and James had no way to communicate with the officer. That is until Po found a cassette tape of Michael Jackson in the glove compartment.

  Popping in the tape and turning up the music, Po sang along to Beat It in near-perfect English. Dith joined the solo and turned it into a duet. By the time the second chorus came around, James couldn’t help himself and the duet morphed into a choir as James added his baritone voice.

  Veata bobbed her head to the music and swayed her shoulders as the three sang along. After the song finished, the trio looked at each other and broke into laughter. They had found a way to communicate.

  It was slow moving through the damaged streets, but James was thankful to rest his body. They reached the outskirts of the city as the sun started to set and James recognized the description of the monastery that Munny had given him. To hi
s left, a short stone wall with faded red paint appeared as it stretched along the side of the road. A building stood back amongst a grove of trees and an arched entryway with white gate could be seen further ahead.

  “You can stop here,” James said, pointing to the gates of the monastery.

  Dith just smiled and kept driving as he and Po continued to sing.

  “Stop here, Dith,” James said more forcefully, pointing at the gates as they passed. “That’s the monastery. We need to go there. Stop the truck!”

  Dith said something back in Khmer, and Po replied. The two briefly yelled at each other, ignoring James, and Dith turned onto a small country road and kept driving.

  James tensed, wondering what to do.

  Should I grab the steering wheel? I can’t overpower both of them in this confined place. And if I try, everyone in the back could get seriously hurt. And what about Veata. She’s too close and could get hurt.

  He eyed their holstered guns and worried that he’d seriously misjudged the two officers. His mind raced through the worst possible scenarios. What if they work for the Sen Zi and they’re just moving the girls to another location? What if they kill us? How do I warn Munny? Maybe he can fight them off...but what about their guns?

  Dith turned down another dirt road just as the sun disappeared over the horizon. He flipped on the headlights as the intro to Thriller started to play.

  The whole moment felt surreal as Dith and Po sang along.

  This is like some weird movie, James thought, starting to doubt his sanity. This doesn’t happen in real life. This is all too crazy. It can’t be real.

  But then James felt Veata squeeze his hand. She looked up into his eyes, and he knew this was real. He knew he had to protect them.

  He was just about to slam an elbow into the side of Po’s head and try to reach the brakes, when Dith started to brake on his own. The truck rolled to a stop and the headlights lit up some small buildings in a field surrounded by a tall barbed-wire fence.

  Is this a prison? James panicked.

  He had no idea where they were, and quickly scooped Veata into his arms and flung open the front door. The song to Thriller continued to play in the background as James limped to the back of the truck and nearly collided with Munny, who looked equally alarmed.

  “Did they take us to prison?” James asked. “This does not look good.”

  “I—I don’t know,” Munny stammered. “I never been here before. I said stop at monastery. Why they not stop? Why you not tell them?”

  “I did!” James exclaimed. “I tried to tell them but they wouldn’t listen. They both have guns. I don’t think we can fight them.”

  Dith and Po whistled to the tune of Thriller as they stepped out of the truck. James set Veata down on the truck bed and took off his belt to use as a weapon, preparing for the worst.

  Munny anxiously whispered for the girls to huddle together in the back of the truck and he climbed onto the tailgate, ready to pounce on the officers.

  But just before the officers rounded the corner, Munny shook James’ shoulder and pointed to a sign about thirty feet away behind the barbed wire fence. He exhaled a sigh of relief.

  “It okay,” Munny said, pointing to the sign written in Khmer. “It say Welcome to Mongoose House.”

  CHAPTER 13:

  Veata devoured her meal of steaming soup and rice. Unlike the soups she’d always made for her uncle, this soup wasn’t thin and watery. Thick with seasonings, mixed vegetables, and pieces of tender chicken, it was the best soup she had ever had. In fact, it was the best meal she’d ever had.

  “I think our young guest likes the soup,” a kindly woman said with a smile. Her name was Boupha Mam, the founder of the Mongoose House.

  Veata was entranced by Boupha’s dazzling colors. They encircled the older woman with bright orange flames and shimmering gold threads that flowed throughout a dark blue.

  After arriving at the Mongoose House, Boupha had not only opened her doors to welcome the girls, but she’d opened her arms, giving each girl a hug while whispering a kind word in their ear.

  There were dozens of other girls and boys, along with some older men and women at the home. With practiced precision, they worked together to set up tables in a large dining area and quickly prepared soup and rice for the newcomers.

  Boupha had invited Chemsi, Munny, and James to sit with her and share their tale as they ate. Veata had refused to leave James’ side and nestled herself between James and Boupha on the bench.

  After licking her bowl clean, Veata let out a loud burp, causing the others at the table to chuckle.

  “Would you like more soup?” Boupha asked with a wink.

  Veata nodded eagerly and licked her lips.

  “Hey, save some for the rest of us,” Chemsi joked.

  Veata’s eyes went wide and she looked down, embarrassed. “Is there not enough?” Veata asked. “I’m sorry. I don’t have to eat anymore. The others need it more than me.”

  Boupha, Chemsi, and Munny all chuckled again. The only one not laughing was James who looked confused until Munny spoke to him in English. He smiled at Veata and gave her a side hug.

  “You are a very sweet girl,” Boupha spoke softly. “We have plenty of soup available for everyone. Please, eat your fill. This is your new home. Our food is your food.”

  Veata felt warmth rush to her cheeks and she dipped her head to Boupha. “Is it really our home?” she asked. “Can I really stay?”

  Boupha laid a hand on Veata’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Of course, child. You can stay. You are safe here. You are loved here.”

  Veata’s eyes swelled with tears and she wrapped her small arms around Boupha’s waist and buried her face in Boupha’s lap. It had been a long time since she had felt safe. It had been a long time since she had felt loved. She had not heard those words since her mother and father passed away, and she’d forgotten how good it felt to hear them.

  Pulling back from Boupha, she wiped her eyes against the sleeve of her ragged red dress. “And what about my giant? Can he stay, too? Can James stay with us?”

  Boupha turned to James, a hint of a smile on her face. “Veata wants to know if her giant can stay with us,” she said in perfect English. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like, Mr. James, or should I call you Veata’s Giant?”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Shall I sing you a goodnight lullaby?” James asked as he tucked Veata into the white sheet on her sleeping mat.

  Veata smiled and repeated the word, “lullaby,” followed with “Okay, thank you.”

  James coughed, clearing his throat, and sang.

  Oh, I had such a pretty dream, Mama.

  Such pleasant and beautiful things

  Of a dear little nest, in the meadows of rest

  Where the birdie her lullaby sings.

  Of a dear little nest, in the meadows of rest

  Where the birdie her lullaby sings.

  Veata smiled, her eyes growing heavy as he continued.

  A stream sang and flowed on toward the ocean

  Thro’ shadows and pretty sunbeams

  Each note grew more deep, and I soon fell asleep

  And was off to the Island of Dreams

  Each note grew more deep, and I soon fell asleep

  And was off to the Island of Dreams

  Six other girls shared the small room with Veata. They were all around her age and seemed entranced by his song. From the corner of his eye he could tell they were staring, but whenever he chanced to look at them directly, they diverted their eyes and fidgeted in their beds.

  To think what they’ve suffered, especially at the hands of men. It’s no wonder they can’t look me in the eye.

  Suddenly, James felt guilty for even being in their room. Then, he heard one of the girls softly humming to the chorus as he sang. A second girl gently swayed her head to the music, and his guilt left. In some small measure, the music seemed to build a bridge between them.

  I saw th
ere a beautiful angel

  With crown all bespangled with dew

  She touched me and spoke, and I quickly awoke

  And found there, dear Mama, ‘twas you

  She touched me and spoke, and I quickly awoke

  And found there, dear Mama, ‘twas you

  James gave Veata’s hand a gentle squeeze and she squeezed back, a look of complete peace on her face. He started to pull himself up, but his knee buckled under him and he nearly toppled over. Using the corner of an old dresser for support, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand.

  Part of him wished he’d not kneeled down to tuck Veata into bed. But that thought, and his pain, was pushed aside when Veata whispered, “Okay, thank you, James.”

  “You’re welcome, Veata,” he replied.

  “You’re...welcome,” she repeated, her eyelids drooping.

  James limped to the door and stopped, turning for one more look at the child that had saved him in so many ways. “Good night,” he whispered.

  “Good nig—” Veata copied, but the last word fell short as her eyes closed and she dozed off to sleep.

  “That was beautiful song,” Boupha said from outside the doorway, surprising James.

  “Um, thank you. My mom used to sing it to my sisters and me when we were kids.”

  “Did you sing it to your own children as well?” Boupha asked.

  James gave a sad smile. “Not as much as I should have.”

  Boupha nodded, seeming to understand.

  The two walked in silence as they exited the small building that housed a half-dozen small rooms. Stepping into the open air, James was met by a brilliant night sky with thousands of twinkling stars. He found himself feeling small and insignificant as he stared at the lights above.

  “You know, we were so busy telling you our story at dinner,” James said, “that I didn’t have a chance to ask you many questions.”

  Boupha smiled as they walked across a courtyard toward the main building where they’d had dinner. “And what questions do you have for an old woman like me?”