A Shaolin Easter to Remember
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Kwai Chang Caine stretched and got up from his sleeping pallet. Something had disturbed his sleep but he wasn't quite sure what it was. He looked around the room but the only person he could see was his son asleep on the raised platform behind his workbench. Peter had asked if he could stay the night. They were making repairs to his apartment from a fire that broke out in the building. His apartment, though a floor below, had suffered damage. The fire had slowly burned through part of the ceiling in his bedroom. Luck would have it, Peter was not home at the time. As Caine surveyed the room, a bright colored basket with a bow was sitting by the opening of the door. That had not been there before, thought the Shaolin. What could it be?
The priest cautiously eyed the basket with its bright ribbon and colored cellophane wrapping. There was a card attached that was addressed to both his son and him. Who could have known that Peter would be here? Lo Si was called away on family business yesterday and had not been here when Peter arrived. He would not be returning until late tonight. Maybe Peter had told one of his coworkers at the precinct. Kwai Chang Caine placed the basket on his workbench. Since the basket was addressed to both of them, he would wait for Peter to rise and they would examine it together. In the mean time, he would fix a small breakfast for both of them. Caine went to the kitchen area and filled a small metal teapot with water. He lit the small burner and placed the pot on top to boil. He then pulled down two teacups and another pot; this one was ceramic. Within that pot he added a mixture of herbs. Under the counter hidden from view by a curtain, was a small refrigerator. It held the rest of the breakfast contents, a bowl of various fruits. He also pulled out bread from a box on the counter.
"Hhhmmmm." Peter was waking up. "What smells good? Good morning, Pop."
"Good morning, my son," Kwai Chang replied. He had since stopped trying to get Peter to stop calling him "Pop". He learned it was Peter's endearing word for him and he tried to accept the nickname graciously. Peter stretched, hoping to try to work some of the sore muscles out from sleeping on the hard surface. But to his surprise, he was not sore. As he stretched, he spotted the basket.
"Who's the basket from?"
"I do not know," shrugged the older man in his unique way. "It is addressed to both of us."
"That's odd. I didn't tell anyone I would be here. Maybe they just assumed. What day is it?"
"Sunday."
"I mean what holiday. It's not your birthday or mine. And the only other days people give gifts are holidays or anniversaries."
"I do not know."
Peter examined the basket and a wide grin appeared on his face. Quickly he opened the card.
Happy Easter . . . May this day be filled with surprises . . .the card had no signature. That was odd. Peter handed the card to his father.
"What is Easter?" Kwai Chang asked.
Peter was surprised that his father did not know what Easter was. He was even more surprised that his father was asking him for some explanation when Peter was the one usually doing the asking.
"I mean, I know that it is a religious holiday but I do not know the significance of it," Kwai Chang continued. "There are confusing and conflicting images associated with it."
'He must mean the Christian and Pagan images,' thought Peter. Peter smiled at the thought of knowing something his father did not. Peter thought back to when he lived with the Blaisdells and the first time he celebrated the holiday.
It had been his first Easter. Peter remembered asking those very same questions. He remembered Paul Blaisdell trying to explain its significance. He tried to explain the various religious beliefs around the holiday. He remembered that Paul did not seem to put much stock in the resurrection of a man called Jesus even though he seemed to revere the man for his teachings. Paul continued to explain to him, that the Easter Holiday for him and his family was a time of the rebirth of spring and that the traditions of Easter eggs and Easter bunnies had their origins in pagan beliefs. For ancient people, it signified the rebirth of spring. They had observed after a long cold winter, the birds would return and build nests to lay eggs. Rabbits would emerge from their underground burrows. For cave dwellers, being underground represented death. By emerging, it signified rebirth.
Peter had asked what his foster father believed since going to a church or temple didn't really mean that much to Paul in a religious aspect. Paul had explained that for him, going to church helped him to reconnect with the goodness others, especially when he had been away on some business that he could not explain. He would always return more troubled than when he left. It was Annie who managed to keep Paul on track as to what was really important and when Peter came to live with them, they all decided to continue that family ritual and include him. Peter, however, seemed somewhat reluctant to attend. When Paul did finally coax Peter into attending a religious service, he explained to Peter that they were Unitarian and that was the basis of their belief.
It had been very different from what he had experienced at the temple. He remembered questioning Paul what Unitarians believed. Paul had handed him a small card with 10 principles written on it. Some of the principles reminded Peter of the Tao. But most of all, he remembered how open and accepting the people of the church had been. Later, he found that the church had a meditation center. Those members and others practicing Buddhism would come and meditate. Sometimes there would be a workshop on the Tao. Peter tried to attend a few but the memories it invoked were too painful, so he simply settled on attending the services with the Blaisdells. Funny, Peter remembered being asked if he wanted to sign the membership book but he refused. 'I guess in some small way I was hanging on to the past and hoping that what had happened had been all a bad dream,' he thought. 'I was hoping that my father would some day find me and that he really wasn't dead. Maybe I was hoping that I could go back to the life that I knew.' And in some way, this Holiday did have some significance that he did not think about until now.
Peter came back from his recollection and his father still had a questioning look, expecting answers.
"It's a celebration of rebirth, Dad" Peter stated. "It's also a celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ by the Christians. And it could have another significant meaning. We both thought the other one was dead. It could mean the resurrection and rebirth of our relationship." Peter's voice became quiet when he spoke the last statement. A feeling of pride, joy, and love filled him. "I know it's only been a couple of years since we've been back together and we've had our problems but . . ."
"Peter," Kwai Chang's voice was quiet and gentle. "There is no need to explain. It is a wonderful thought and reason to celebrate. But who sent the basket?"
Both pondered the question.
"Maybe it came from someone at the precinct?" But even as he said it, a feeling of dread came over Caine and he was reminded of another incident two years ago.
Peter began to open the wrapping to examine it further when Caine suddenly grabbed the basket and ran for the terrace. All hell broke loose.
"POP!" The explosion was small but effective. "No!" Peter ran to where his jacket lay and grabbed his cell phone. "This is Peter Caine of the 101st. Send an ambulance to 2010 Peking Way, Chinatown. My father's been hurt. It's the top floor apartment through the alleyway. Hurry, he may be dying!"
Peter threw the phone down and ran over to where his father lay. The explosion had done its work. Kwai Chang Caine's face and hands were badly burned. When Peter felt for a pulse, it was thready but there. Peter knew enough first aid to try to make his father comfortable. Tears streamed down his face at the thought of loosing his father, again. He banished the thought as quickly as it came.
"I wish Lo Si was here."_
Suddenly, Peter remembered where his father kept the homemade salve that he had made to help such wounds. If he could apply that salve maybe he could help prevent any more damage. Peter quickly ran to the shelf to locate the salve. Minutes dragged by. It felt like an eternity since Peter made the call. What was taking them so long? Peter found the jar and turned his father on his back to apply the salve. Peter found he was holding his breath when he saw what had been done. Quickly he started to apply the salve to his father's face, especially over the eyes. Then he applied the salve to his father'_s hands where the explosion was the worst. He had been lucky. His father could have lost more than just skin. He could have lost his hands. Peter carefully and tenderly as he could wrapped bandages over his father's eyes. The thought of his father blinded because of this filled Peter with rage. That bomb had been meant for both of them. It wasn't meant to be deadly but it did do damage just the same. His father had saved his life, again, but at what cost? Moments later, Peter could here the paramedics coming up the stairs.
"OVER HERE!" Peter shouted. The men came in with a stretcher and lifted Caine onto it.
"Did you do this?" One of the men said referring to the bandage on the Shaolin'_s eyes.
"Yes." The look of worry and fear showing in Peter's face.
"You put that stuff on his face and hands?" Seeing the glossy coating of the salve.
"Yes. My father is an apothecary. This salve is suppose to help burns."
The man nodded his head. "Don't worry. You did the right thing. We'll take it from here. Bob, check his vital signs and start an IV so he doesn't go into shock."
"Peter." Kwai Chang's voice was horse and weak.
"I'm here, Pop. Don't you worry. The paramedics are here. We're taking you to a hospital. I applied the salve you made. I . . ." Peter's voice almost broke. "I'll try and find the person or person's responsible. Please, dad, hang on."
Kwai Chang's heart was filled with relief and anguish that his son had not been harmed by the blast and yet, he had been harmed emotionally. He hoped that Peter would not retaliate in haste. He could sense the rage within his son. But pride also filled his heart at how quickly his son came to his aid. He had used the right salve to help heal his wounds. By applying it quickly, he knew the damage would be minimized. His eyes, however, may be a different story. The flash from the explosion had been exceedingly bright to cause even pain. He would have to wait for a doctor to examine him.
"We have to take him, now." One of the paramedics said.
"I want to come with."
"Peter, I will be all right. You need to file a report."
"I can do that with my cell phone. I'm not leaving."
Peter grabbed his father's hand and walked beside the gurney as the paramedics took him down to the street. As they placed his father inside the ambulance, Peter ran toward the front and climbed in. No one was keeping him away from his father. This was too much like the time at the temple, but this time, they would not be separated again.
End of Part 1
Alisa Joaquin Copyright@2001.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from
the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.
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