Read Online The Vine Basket by Josanne La Valley - Free Book Online

But Pati . . .” She stopped. “I want you to keep a secret.”
    â€œSure,” Pati said.
    â€œI mean a real secret, one you must tell no one.”
    â€œI’m your friend. Of course I will.”
    â€œYou must keep your word.”
    â€œMehrigul, I promise.”
    â€œA lady from America saw the old basket I’d hung on the donkey cart and bought it. She asked me to make others. She’ll come back to the market a week from Wednesday . . . to buy more. That’s why I want to learn English.”
    Pati swung her shoulders left to right, back and forth, in what Mehrigul knew to be her greatest show of delight.
    â€œThat’s exciting,” Pati said. Then again there was a question in her eyes. “Has your grandfather seen your baskets?”
    â€œNot yet. I’m waiting until Ata goes on pilgrimage, then I’ll bring them for him to see. He must be the first one in the family to see them,” Mehrigul said. “It will be important that he likes them.”
    Pati shrugged. “He might think using cornhusks is too common for an American lady.”
    â€œBut look.” Mehrigul held out her basket. “Don’t you think they add texture and color?” A grin suddenly crossed her face. “If you just happen to see a certain young man tomorrow, and he just happens to have leftover scraps of red or blue felt, I’d be very glad to weave them into my baskets. You’re right, a lady from America might like that better.”
    â€œI’ll try to make it happen,” Pati said.
    Mehrigul placed her baskets on the ground and covered them again with the fallen bamboo culms.
    â€œI wish I knew the English word for ‘basket,’” she said.
    Pati folded her hands across her waist. This was another sign Mehrigul knew—her friend had something she was reluctant to say.
    â€œOh, all right,” Pati said finally, digging into her bag and pulling out a small book. “You need this more than I do. It gives the English word for the same word in Mandarin. The teacher let me have it. I was going to be the smart one and teach you, but you can borrow it.” She handed the battered book to Mehrigul. “You need more words than I can teach you right away.”
    Mehrigul made a low bow in acceptance, then quickly opened the book.
    â€œ
Lanzi
is the Mandarin word.” Mehrigul searched through the
l’
s. “Here it is,” she said. “The word is
basket.
Basket,
” she repeated.
“Basket.”
    Pati stood tall. “So you say to the American lady,
Do you like basket?
”
    Swaying and singing,
“Do you like basket? Do you like basket?”,
they made their way back through the bamboo onto the road. A lightness swept through Mehrigul, lifting some of her doubts, her fears that the meeting with Mrs. Chazen had been so outside her real world that it could only have been imagined.
    But Ata coming toward them, seeing them emerge from the bamboo, was more real than she wished. “What were you doing in there?” he asked, angling his head and frowning.
    Mehrigul had no answer. She froze the carefree look of a moment ago on her face to hide the guilt she felt about her baskets.
    The growing silence spoke of secrets.
    Pati took a step toward Ata. “We heard a strange birdcall,” she said in a sweet, innocent voice. “We rushed through the bamboo, hoping to get a glimpse.” She laughed. “I guess we were just having fun, for we surely would have scared it away.”
    Ata tightened his lips. “Uhmm,” he mumbled, not bothering to acknowledge Pati. His attention was drawn to the book Mehrigul held in her hand. “What’s that?” he said.
    â€œA school book Pati brought me, so I can study.” Mehrigul kept her voice strong and even, but she couldn’t control the trembling in her hands. She clutched her arms and the book to her, hoping Ata wouldn’t