The following week, Eddie asked Nola to marry him. She hesitated, sadness and happiness playing within her like two actors on a stage. The Silvers, sympathetic when it came to filial devotion, had placed her scrapbook in their library. They were proud of her. She belonged. “How can I be happy when Jenna is out there, lost and lonely?” Nola pressed against Eddie. “But I love you so much!”

“Well, keep this.” He put a three-karat diamond on her finger and bought a new Steinway for his apartment overlooking the East River. Nola kept her place, but rarely went back there. The highs and lows of her life were out of sync. She felt like a pianist reversing hands, playing the bass notes with the right hand. The only new song she wrote was “The Runaway Kid.” Keith released it as a single and it quickly went gold.

“Did they do their best, but their best wasn’t enough?

Are they searching for you, with their last shred of love?

It may not be ideal, it may not be what you want.

But it is better than this, being under the gun,

Oh, runaway kid, come back, please don’t run.”

Maybe Jenna, somewhere, would hear it and come back to her.

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 33

The long train ride was a faint reminder of Nola's early years on the road with her band, except that instead of the exhilaration of those times, filled with music and laughter, this trip dragged on for hours of sheer boredom. The sights outside speed-blurred, offering the eyes nothing to land on. Nola lit two candles, explaining to Ming-Ji that it was Friday, and although she rarely practiced this Jewish symbol of welcoming the Sabbath, she felt the urge to recite whatever prayers she remembered. Afterwards, she stared for a long time at the flickering flames.

For the rest of the trip, Ming-Ji studied her medical journals and spoke little. When Lulu slept, Nola stretched in the small space, but was unable to practice her voice. She wished she had brought a book with her; for once, there was enough time to read. The food consisted of sweet potatoes with pieces of pork, cabbage fritters, and the usual pale, sticky pastries. When they were served bowls of noodles in broth, Ming-Ji slurped hers. Feeling playful, Nola joined her in noisily sucking down the soup.

At dusk the next evening, they sneaked off the train and climbed into another rickety truck, almost identical to the one that had smuggled them out of Shanghai. The arid terrain of the high plains, though, was more desolate than the countryside of their first day. Nola almost welcomed the sight of the mammoth factories, with chimneys burping curls of dark smoke that canopied the city. Miles of windowless warehouses rolled on without a green break to soothe the eyes.