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“Show me,” the boy said. Then he quickly added, “Please.”
Very well, she would show him some of the tricks old Chen had taught her. “Ways young miss can fight,” he had said.
Right there in the kitchen she demonstrated how to step in close to an opponent, slip her foot around behind his legs and tip him over backward.
“Wow, that’s real smart!” Teddy crowed. “Show me some more.”
“Well, there’s a way to let someone try to punch you, and use momentum to pull him off balance.”
“What’s momtum?”
“Force. You use the force of the blow that is aimed at you to your advantage. That way, you can pull someone to the ground without getting hit. Like this.” She demonstrated with a feigned punch at Teddy, and when he punched back, she caught his arm and tugged him over.
“Hey, that’s pretty keen!” He practiced a few “pulls” on his own and then turned to Leah. “D’ya know any more tricks?”
“The most important thing about fighting is not a trick, Teddy. Shall I tell you?”
“Yeah, tell me!”
She knelt before him and looked straight into his clear blue eyes. “The most important thing to remember is—” What am I doing? Teaching Thad’s son to cheat?
Yes, I most certainly am.
“Well, as I was saying, the most important thing is this—don’t ever let them know you’re scared.”
Moonlight flooded the road to the Jensen place. The night air was crisp and so clear Leah could see the lights from town. Thad pulled up close to the entrance, and she and Teddy scrambled off the bench and waited while he drove off to park the wagon and see to the horse.
The barn was lit up with Indian lanterns—candles stuck in punched-out tin cans filled with wet sand. By the time they reached the double plank door, Leah’s hands were icy and the inside of her nose burned when she drew breath.
Thad caught up to them, slapping his leather gloves together. “Let’s go on in. It’s cold out here.”
Teddy hung back. “Pa, do I hafta?” With each syllable, white vapor puffed out of his mouth.
“No, you don’t have to, son. But it’s the manly thing to do. Besides, it’s warm inside and out here it’s colder than a witch’s—uh, colder than snow. It’s your choice.”
The boy shivered, then resolutely marched into the barn after his father.
Music rose from one corner, where an old man with a long, curly beard sawed away on a fiddle tucked under his scrawny chin. Two younger men strummed banjos, accompanied by a thumping washtub bass; the town barber, Whitey Poletti, plucked the strings as if he were snipping off hanks of hair.
Leah listened to the din with astonishment. Such noise! Worse than the riotous New Year festivals in China, with belching dragons and firecrackers and cymbals. The screechy fiddle reminded her of squawking chickens. She clapped her hands over her ears.
Thad bent toward her. “Kinda loud, I guess.”
She nodded in agreement; her voice would never be heard over the two twanging banjos. Thad led her to a wooden bench set against one wall, gestured to Teddy to stay with her, and strode off toward the refreshment table.
Couples whirled and circled on the polished plank floor; watchers ringed the sidelines. Leah’s gaze fastened on the booted and slippered feet milling before her. She could see no pattern in the couples’ steps; why did they not bump into each other?
Teddy scooted closer. “I bet you don’t know how to dance, huh, Leah?”
“Not like this, no. In China my father taught me a dance he called a Virginia reel and another called a Highland fling.”
“Sure are funny names.”
“I will tell you a secret, Teddy.” She tipped her head down and spoke close to his ear. “The Chinese in our village thought Father’s dances were funny, as well. No one had ever seen such wild antics as Scottish dancing. They all laughed when Father tried to teach them, and after that I learned Chinese dances to try to fit in.”
“I bet dumb old Chinese dances have stamping and yelling, too.”
Leah bit her lip. “Oh, no. A Chinese dance is very slow and graceful and—” She broke off when Thad returned with a cup of lemonade for Teddy and two small glasses of amber liquid. Whatever it was, it smelled like varnish.
“In a Chinese dance,” she continued, “a lady uses her fan for expression.”
“Huh! Bet I wouldn’t like it. I don’t like any kinda dancing.”
Leah sought Thad’s gaze, and his eyes met hers over his glass. He saluted her with it and swallowed the contents in one gulp.
She would do the same, she decided. After last night, she felt like toasting her husband. She brought her lips to the rim, tried not to breathe in the fumes, and then tossed all the liquid down as Thad had done.
