I was confused by this and looked over at Fin. “Houseboat?”
“Father stays off property for propriety’s sake but also for the protection of the girls. He’s a wanted man,” she added seriously.
Father laughed. “They come for me, they do, but they never get me! They get close but never close enough, they do,” he said, swinging his walking stick wildly, making me step back. “Ach! But it is the price I pay for the work we do here.” He set the walking stick down then smiled at me as if he just noticed me. “What say ya to a bit of supper, son? Finley?” he asked her as well, before turning toward a hallway.
When Father Connolly was a bit ahead of me, I asked who comes after him but she just shook her head with a look that promised she’d tell me later.
We followed him into a room filled with young girls ages five to probably seventeen as well as Sister Marguerite and a woman I’d yet to be introduced to. I glanced down at a girl who was no more than a baby, really, and my blood burned with a horrible, terrible need to find the men responsible for putting her into the girls’ home. I closed my eyes and took two steady breaths to regain myself, to remove the red from my vision, when a hand met mine and my heart steadied itself. I looked down at my right and saw Finley. She nodded in understanding, like she knew, like she could feel what I felt, and I knew then that my enraged reaction wasn’t just a product of being me, of being that Ethan, it was a product of being human.
The woman I hadn’t been introduced to yet walked over to Fin and me, holding her hand out.
“Ethan, I presume?” she asked.
I took her hand. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Ethan,” Finley began, “This is Dr. Nguyen. She’s the on-call physician and surgeon for Slánaigh.”
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Nguyen,” I said, smiling.
“Nice to meet you as well.” The doctor gestured toward a table with the other adults and we followed her. “I understand you come from Finley’s hometown?” she asked without a trace of an accent.
“Yes, ma’am. Well, from Bitterroot actually. A town a little ways from Finley’s Kalispell but close enough that we all blend nicely.”
She smiled as we all sat. “How do you like Hạ Long Bay?”
“It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen,” I told her.
She began passing around huge ceramic bowls just as three busy-looking Vietnamese women went bustling around the tables, laying down burners with pan-fried spiced fish, heaping plates of green herbs and vegetables, as well as large bowls of rice noodles and small ramekins’ worth of a light brown sauce. One of the women placed a setting in front of Finley and me. I watched, fascinated, as Finley dumped the bowl of herbs into the hot pan. I recognized dill, scallions, and assorted herbs as well as smelled turmeric and garlic. It was such a different dish than I was accustomed to, but it looked and smelled delicious.
“How do you know to do this?” I asked Finley as she took my bowl and filled it with noodles.
“I don’t really. It’s what they have for dinner every night, and I’ve only watched them a couple of times.
She handed me back my bowl and I studied her myself. She piled the now hot herbs and fish as well as a little bit of oil from the pan on top of her noodles then sprinkled crushed peanuts and red chilies on top. I followed suit, copying her every move, feeling out of my element.
“Now, the pièce de résistance,” she said, taking the bowl of light brown sauce.
“What is that?”
“Shrimp paste,” she answered matter-of-factly. I felt my eyes bug and she giggled. “It’s much better than you think,” she said, offering to pour some for me.
“I’m trusting you on this, I guess.”
“Duly noted.”
She poured some over my noodles with the flat-bottomed spoon I’d seen at Asian restaurants back home then set the bowl down.
I stared at my bowl.
“The trick is to get a little bit of everything with every bite.”
“Here goes nothing,” I said, picking up my chopsticks and gathering a bite.
I clumsily shoveled it all in my mouth, causing a few of the girls around us to giggle, and swallowed.
“This is amazing,” I told her.
“I know, right?”
“What is it?” I asked, gathering another bite.
“It’s chả cá.”
“Chả cá,” I repeated, testing out the language.
“It’s a very old dish, “ Dr. Nguyen added. “Do you like it?”
“Very good,” I told her.
She smiled and went back to her bowl.
We all ate in silence for a few minutes before Finley leaned over her own and whispered, “How did you find me?”
“It’s embarrassing,” I confessed. “I, uh, took the creepy route and just started remembering little details from our phone conversations, piecing them all together with random searches.” She sat back, her eyes watching me. My shoulders hunched under her scrutiny. “What?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “Nothing,” she lied.
“Did I just freak you out or something?”
She cleared her throat after a bite. “Uh, no, it’s just… You’re quite clever, Ethan.”
I beamed at her compliment. No one had ever called me clever. I’d always been defined by my height, my ranch-hand abilities, my knowledge of the mountains, and especially by my expertise with my double swords, which I’d only remembered to pack at the last minute. No one saw me as anything other than the physical force I was.