14. Tori

As it turned out, all of Tori's expectations for Shaolin kung fu had been wrong.

She'd dreaded that they'd signed up for a crowded class full of kung fu masters. But Justin knew Wei Chen, the "sifu"—or instructor—who owned the martial arts studio tucked into a strip center in Yulee. So he'd arranged for the four of them to take a private family class.

Sifu Wei looked to be in his thirties, compact and muscular. He greeted them and gave them all matching "gi" jackets to wear over their workout clothes, although Justin brought his own. As he handed them their belts—three whites, but Justin's was blue—and showed them how to tie them, he seemed softspoken and kind, reminding her of a favorite yoga teacher.

But it wasn't long before Tori realized he was more demanding than any soft-spoken yogi she'd practiced with in the past.

There was no standing around, bowing, or easy stretches. The warmup was long and hard and rivaled any exercise class she'd ever been in. Under the milky fluorescent lights and in front of a long mirror, they bent in ways Tori had no idea her body could move, holding each position far past the comfort level and well into screaming pain.

There was no fighting involved, but it was far more strenuous to learn four simple poses than she could have imagined. After forty-five minutes, her thighs were quivering, her hair was soaked with sweat, and the only fight in her was her need to beg for it to stop.

"Now we will learn the horse stance," Sifu Wei told them, looking unfazed but covered in perspiration.

"Another one?" Tori gasped, wiping sweat as she tried to stand after "mastering" a difficult pose called the bow stance.

Next to her, Justin chuckled. He was sweating, too, but moved through the paces like he'd done the moves a thousand times, barely winded, obviously far more experienced than this beginner-level class.

But the biggest surprise of the evening had to be Finnie. He stood in the dead center of the room, never took his eyes off the instructor, and followed every order as well as he could. When he slipped, fell, or teetered on the edge of losing his balance, he never laughed or even smiled.

He took the process seriously, and Sifu Wei seemed to love that.

"Well done, Finley," he said after each pose, bowing and holding eye contact. "Discipline and desire drives the man." He smiled and glanced at Kenzie. "And the woman."

Kenzie slid a glance to Tori, fighting a laugh. She was following instructions, but nothing like Finn.

"Arms up and legs apart," Sifu Wei told them. "Lower slowly."

Tori attempted the dip, holding her back straight, certain she was going to topple, somehow crouching down and staying there…until she wanted to cry.

"You fight through pain," the instructor said, taking the stance in front of Finn and mirroring him, their eyes locked. "Discipline leads to control. Repeat!"

"Discipline leads to control," Finn said through gritted teeth.

"Control dissolves chaos! Repeat!"

"Control…dissolves…chaos!" Finn grunted.

"Stay…in…the…moment," Sifu Wei ground out. "Hold. Hold. Hold. And learn." He leaned closer to Finn, moving like his feet were glued to the floor no matter what position his body took.

"Compassion and kindness on the inside, strength and power on the outside. Repeat!"

Finn said the words right back to the man. Justin watched—effortlessly holding the pose—beaming at Finn like, well, like he was his own son. Kenzie gave up and crumpled to the floor, and Tori just fought her way through until finally it was over.

Finn hopped into his first position, back straight, eyes forward, arms locked at his sides.

The sifu stayed right in his face.

"You'll now meet my son," he said. "He will show you what you can do. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon. With patience and…"

"Discipline," Finn finished, earning a genuine smile from the man.

"Yes. Now you may relax."

Kenzie fell flat on her back, Tori and Justin both sat on the floor, but Finn stayed in the military pose, waiting as Sifu Wei walked to a back door and called something in Chinese.

A moment later, a little boy of about nine years old stepped into the studio wearing a white gi with a green belt. His hair was nearly shaved, his expression painfully serious, his gait steady and strong as he made his way to the middle of the room and bowed.

"I am Qian," he said, pronouncing the name "Chee-en" for them. "It is my honor to entertain and enlighten you today."

They all smiled at him and each other, uncertain what would happen next. And when it did, Tori nearly gasped.

In a flash, the tiny body that couldn't weigh more than sixty-five pounds began to whirl and kick, pop and spin, punctuating his astounding moves with purposefully placed grunts. He flipped across the room like an acrobat, spun on his head, then whizzed his foot in and out like a buzz saw, leaving no room for doubt that he could do some serious damage to another person if he wanted to.

When he finished, he stood as still as a statue but for his chest rising and falling. He held his head high, his shoulders square, the picture of peace and confidence and, yes, discipline.

"Today I bring you a message from the master of the Shaolin temple," he said, softly but with clipped, clear diction. "Focus with a clear mind. Acceptance leads to inner peace. All anger and resentment will keep you paralyzed with no forward movement." He parted his feet and put his hands behind his back. "Gratitude is our core."

After a beat, he turned to his father and exchanged a bow, a word or two in Chinese, then the little boy's whole demeanor changed and he relaxed, folding into a seated position in front of Finn.

"He said you could be my first student," Qian said with an easy smile. "Would that be cool?"

Finn looked a little taken aback, blinking at the boy. "You'd teach me?" he asked.

"In private," the boy said. "I have to teach a student through one belt ascension before I can get my brown. My dad will be here at the studio, but I'd be your sifu. Are you okay with that?"

The whole room waited, silent while Finn considered the request. Tori imagined what was going through his head—taught by a kid who was four or five years younger? Was that what he had in mind? Wouldn't he want the father or someone—

"Are you kidding me?" Finn asked on a laugh. "Can you teach me…" He spun his finger around in the general direction Qian had moved through the room. "That?"

Qian lifted a shoulder. "Eventually. But that's not all I have to teach you."

"What else is there?"

"The lessons of the Shaolin," he said, utterly serious, then he leaned in. "Basically, how to be a beast and win at life."

Coming out of the child's mouth, the words could have been hilarious, even ridiculous. But Finn didn't seem to think so. He nodded slowly, then glanced at Tori with a question in his eyes.

"It's up to you," she said.

"Then, yeah. I accept!" he told the boy.

"You must call me Sifu Qian," he said, standing up and looking very formal again. "And I will call you ‘tu-di,' which means ‘little apprentice brother.'"

A slow smile pulled on Finn's face as he stood, nearly a foot taller than his tiny instructor. "Thank you, Sifu Qian," he said, without a hint of humor in his voice.

The little boy gave a formal bow. "May you overcome every obstacle until we meet again, tu-di."

"Uh, same, sifu."

The boy looked up. "The proper response is, ‘May you live in peace and compassion until then, sifu.'"

Finn nodded and repeated the words, adding a bow.

The other boy grinned, gave him a high-five, bowed to his father, and disappeared through the door where he'd first appeared. Finn stared after him like he'd just met a leprechaun and was charmed and changed.

"That was awesome!" he exclaimed, looking like he might hug Justin with gratitude. "I'm psyched to come back here."

Justin nodded. "I thought you'd like it. And thank you, Sifu Wei, for introducing us to your son. He's amazing."

The other man gave a simple nod. "Your son is amazing, too," he said, smiling at Finn. "And your daughter."

For a moment, no one said a word, then they all talked at once, the mistake hanging in the air, uncorrected.

After they said goodbye and Justin helped Finn sign up for his next class, they walked out into the night.

"Please tell me there's food soon," Kenzie said. "I'm starving after all that work."

"Yeah, let's eat," Finnie agreed, practically skipping to the car.

But Tori held back, reaching for Justin's arm. "Aren't you going to tell Sifu Wei that you're not their father?"

"He knows they're your kids and not mine, if that's what you mean."

"But he called Finn your son."

He angled his head, conceding the point. "Because I told him my family was coming, Tori."

She stared at him, not sure what to say. This was what she wanted, right? For them to be a family. A trickle of sweat meandered down her spine as she stared at him.

He took a step closer and drew her into him. "Didn't you learn anything in there?" He added a kiss on her cheek and whispered, "Acceptance leads to inner peace, Tori."

It seemedappropriate to get Chinese, and the four of them chowed down on sweet and sour pork, moo goo gai pan, and way too many dumplings, all served family style.

Which was also appropriate, because Tori couldn't remember ever feeling quite this connected and like a family. Well, obviously, she'd grown up in a tight family and in the early years, she and Trey had plenty of good times with these two kids.

But tonight felt different. Finn was vibrating with excitement, Kenzie couldn't stop calling him "tu-di," and Justin seemed even calmer and more centered than usual.

While they ate appetizers, he told them how he'd started Shaolin in college in Pittsburgh. The conversation opened the door for Kenzie to ask about the upcoming trip to Flagler College and, to no one's surprise, Justin said he'd love to go if he could clear his schedule.

This time, the possibility didn't seem to bother Finn one bit. He just wanted to get back to talking about the monks in China.

"Next you'll want to be one of them," Kenzie teased, pointing her chopsticks at Finn.

"No, but they offer Mandarin Chinese as a foreign language at the high school," he said. "I might take it instead of Spanish."

"That's amazing, Finn," Tori said. "I've heard it's a hard language."

He shrugged. "So none of the dopes will be in the class, and I'll dominate."

"You'll dominate anyway," Justin said smoothly. "Are you ready to go back tomorrow?"

Finn looked across the table at him. "More ready than I was when this whole thing started, so I guess."

Justin nodded. "Good to…" Frowning, he reached into his pocket and checked the screen of his cell phone. "I have to take this. Excuse me for a second and save me a dumpling."

"No promises," Finn teased, plucking one with his chopsticks.

When Justin disappeared to take the call, Kenzie leaned in and gave Tori a hard look. "Mom."

She drew back, a little surprised by the force in the single syllable. "What?"

"What do you mean, what? Can't you see? Don't you know? Are you blind?"

Tori shook her head and looked at Finn for help, but he lifted his shoulder and pointed to his mouthful of dumpling as his excuse for not talking.

"What are you talking about, Kenz?"

"Him." She thumbed in the direction Justin had walked.

"What about him?"

"When are you going to marry him?"

Finn choked and nearly spewed his dumpling, struggling to swallow, then shooting Kenzie a dumbfounded look. "Pretty sure you don't have anything to say about it."

"Do you not agree?" she challenged. "Don't they belong together?"

"I don't know about stuff like that," Finn said, squirming uncomfortably and taking a big drink to wash down what was stuck in his throat. "Whatever. I mean, I guess."

"Exactly how I feel, Finnie," Tori said, sliding a look at Kenzie.

"Whatever? You guess?" Kenzie scoffed. "Mom, if you don't put a ring on that man, you could lose him, and he's awesome."

She stared at Kenzie, so not wanting to have this conversation right now. "Look, he's a great guy and we have a terrific time together and I love him. I do! But it's a huge thing to get married."

"Aunt Madeline did it in a hurry," Finn said, proving that maybe he did know about "stuff like that."

"That was different."

"How?" Kenzie challenged. "She found a great guy, recognized it, and closed the deal. Easy-peasy. Otherwise…" Kenzie gave a tight smile, lifting her brows in warning. "Somebody else is going to step in."

"Kenzie, he and I are together. I'm not in a rush, so why are you?"

"I don't want to lose him," she said softly.

Tori shifted her gaze to Finn, who just looked down at his plate.

"How do you feel about it really, Finn?"

After a second, he looked up, right into her eyes. "Me neither. He's the best."

Tori sucked in a soft breath, stunned by the candor and the fact that the words even came out of Finn's mouth.

"Okay, then." Justin rounded the corner. Had he heard that exchange? Had she said anything to the kids she'd never said to him?

"Good news," he announced as he slid into the booth next to her. "That was Angelina Zakarian. Or Dr. Z, as the medical community calls her."

Her heart dropped with a thud. Wasn't that the doctor offering him a job…in Minnesota? "Oh?" she asked, fighting for nonchalance.

"She's a neuro-oncologist," he explained, then leaned into her ear and whispered, "She wants to look at Valerie's files. Which means there's hope."

She blinked at him, her jaw loose, suddenly feeling silly for making the phone call about her fears when Val was dying.

"Hey, no secrets at the table," Kenzie said. "That has to be some kind of Shaolin law."

Finn rolled his eyes. "Miss SAT vocab doesn't even know the word ‘tenets,'" he said, feigning superiority.

"I know it. I just didn't want to show off."

While they joked, Tori stared at Justin, thinking of what he'd just said…there's hope.

Wasn't that what Justin was holding out to her? Tori knew she should grab it with both hands. Fear was the only thing stopping her, and it didn't take a Shaolin monk to teach her that fear was the enemy.

She just put her hand on his arm and smiled. "Thank you. For everything."

He gave her a light kiss then turned to the table. "Oh, one dumpling with my name on it. Thanks, son."

She could have sworn Finn beamed from the inside at the term of endearment. A light that could so easily be extinguished…or shine even brighter.