Red Skies (Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters Book 4) by Kay Bratt

Author:Kay Bratt [Bratt, Kay]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

The gathering clouds in the city-lit night sky hurried Mari along. The wind howled around her ears, and she pulled her sweater closer. She’d tried to talk Bolin into letting her cook for him, but he’d insisted it would be easier for her to buy dinner. She’d hated to leave him when he was finally talking to her again, but before she’d left, he had crossed the room and held her in a tight hug. Just a few seconds of his warm embrace, but enough to remind her he was still a man—and not just any man, but her man. She didn’t feel alone anymore. When she left the apartment, she’d sighed and felt the heaviness disappear. She’d practically floated down the stairs, feeling lighter than she had in months.

Ahead she saw a line of people in front of a small wheeled booth, stacked high with rows of bamboo steamers. The aroma of pork-stuffed bāozi reached Mari and made her stomach rumble. She closed the distance and waited her turn, eager for something hot and comforting to fill the emptiness in her body. In front of her, harried businessmen waited impatiently, tapping on their cell phones or smoking their cigarettes. Mari wondered if they were simply picking up a snack for the long commute home or if there were that many unmarried men eating street food for dinner. Or maybe like her, they hadn’t been able to resist the temptation. She’d get pork-filled buns for her, and a few with the bok choy that Bolin loved. They didn’t need anything fancy—she was sure he’d only eat a few bites anyway.

At the booth, a man and woman worked together to fill orders and take the money. Almost as if one, their movements were so in sync and graceful Mari knew they must have been together through many years. The woman was old enough to be Mari’s grandmother, but her lined face held a look of contentment, even as she worked in the crisp fall night. She wore a colorful scarf around her head, and a few gray hairs mingled in with the dark, proof of her earned wisdom. Mari watched, captivated. She enjoyed knowing a partnership like theirs existed, that it could happen even in a world with so much stress and pressure. But then, she’d known by her own Baba and Mama that love—real, true love—was possible. They’d both have been disappointed in her to know she had almost ruined her chance with her own marriage, that it had come close to a full-on failure. But at least now it was turning around.

Finally she made it to the counter, and the woman asked her what she wanted. Mari thought of the generous fee Max had paid her and decided to splurge, ordering a half dozen of each of the buns, her mouth already watering at the thought of what she knew would be spicy and juicy meat, something that normally Bolin would frown deeply upon in his obsession to prove he was nothing like his farming family.

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