After dinner and dessert, we gathered in the living room, and when Lien-hua noted the chess set, Cheyenne complimented Tessa’s skill. “She’s quite a player.”
“Not compared to you,” Tessa said. “Just to Patrick.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Lien-hua picked up the black queen. “I learned to play years ago, but I’ve never been very good.”
“I’m sure Detective Warren could teach you some moves to improve your game,” Tessa said.
“I’m sure she could.” She set down the queen.
A touch of silence.
“So,” Cheyenne said, “your name, Lien-hua, it’s lovely.”
“Thank you. It means lotus.”
“The flower.”
“Yes.”
Though there was no outward antagonism in their words, I had the sense that the two women were verbally fencing.
Cheyenne looked reflectively at the far wall. Then, concentrating on remembering the words, she said, “Flowers are the hieroglyphics of angels. Loved by all men for the beauty of their character, though few can decipher even fragments of their meaning.”
“That’s beautiful,” Lien-hua said, clearly impressed. “What’s it from?”
“I’m not sure, exactly; it’s a quote I read once by Lydia M. Child. I’m not a huge reader, but I sometimes stumble across something that’s worth holding on to, and I make sure I don’t let it slip away.” As she said the words, she was looking at me, leaving me to interpret them on more than one level. Then she glanced at Lien-hua. “I like the line about deciphering fragments of their meaning.”
“I’d love a copy of it.”
“Absolutely.”
But at the moment Cheyenne didn’t take the initiative to write it down.
More fencing. This time with silence.
“So, speaking of lotuses,” Tessa said, “the Lotus Sutra is a teaching, a discourse of Buddha.” She paused as we all gave her our attention, then added, “Which brings up the .”
“N gas?” Cheyenne said.
“According to legend,” Tessa explained, “the Lotus Sutra was given by Buddha himself and kept hidden for five hundred years in the land of the N gas until humans were finally ready to understand it.”
“What are N gas?” asked Cheyenne.
With a glance, Tessa deferred to Lien-hua, who answered, “A N ga is a serpent. The word is typically translated dragon, but a better translation would probably be cobra. Usually, N gas are kind to humans, unless they’re provoked. Then, they can be truly malicious. They guard treasure and represent immortality.”
“Yup,” Tessa said. “You wouldn’t want to cross a N ga while it’s guarding its treasure.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cheyenne said.
With all of the subtext shooting through the room, I wondered how that meal last night between the two women had really gone.
After a moment, Cheyenne, the faithful Catholic, asked Lien-hua, “So, are you Buddhist?”
“No. My mother was.” Lien-hua paused. “I don’t mean this to be flippant, but I guess I’d say I’m between religions.”
Cheyenne waited for her to go on, but when Lien-hua didn’t elaborate, she said, “Well, it’s a journey.”
When Christie and I were dating, she used to tell me that when we pigeonhole people by their faiths, everyone loses out. “Multiculturalism doesn’t build bridges,” she said. “It puts people into boxes.” Maybe it wasn’t always true, but I could see it beginning to happen right now.
I wondered if Lien-hua was thinking something along those lines, because she went on to say, “Last February when Pat and I were working a case in San Diego, I was attacked and left in an empty pool-one that was nearly thirteen feet deep. While I was unconscious, a man who’d already killed at least eight other women-including my sister-chained my ankle to the bottom, and when I awoke he began filling the pool with water.”
“That’s horrible,” Cheyenne said softly, her voice full of empathy. “What happened?”
“Well, I was terrified, of course, and when the water was going over my head, I…” Lien-hua hesitated, and I think we could all tell how difficult it was for her to share this story. “Being raised in a Buddhist home, I wasn’t even sure if God existed, but I prayed, and someone arrived just in time to save me.” Her eyes found mine just as Cheyenne’s had a minute ago. “I’m still trying to sort out what all that means.”
“It means,” Cheyenne said, “that God still has big plans for you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Then, the conversation veered away from God and fear and treasure-guarding serpents and returned to the tamer territory of favorite books and movies and pastimes, and I was thankful. But not long afterward, Cheyenne mentioned that she really needed to get going. “I’ll be sitting in on classes all day tomorrow,” she told me. “But I can help with the case in the evening. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. At 5:00.”
“Okay,” I said.
After we’d all thanked her for coming and said our good-byes, she headed for the door.
I debated whether or not to offer to walk her to her car, but in the end I decided against it. Cheyenne stepped outside, and I joined Lien-hua and Tessa, who were in the kitchen putting away the dishes and leftovers.
A few moments later I heard Cheyenne’s car backing down the driveway.
And then she was gone.