Gold Mountain (11 page)

I found his suspicious reluctance insulting and stood up abruptly, saying with poorly disguised annoyance, “One o’clock sharp on Saturday then, Mr. Pandora.” He rose, too.

“Agreed, Miss Hudson.”

We walked into the hallway and as I held the front door open for his departure admitted frankly, “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you to admit you were wrong. I hope you have no ulterior plan at work here.”

He misread my words and meaning completely and responded with his own annoyance. “Your brother-in-law was close enough to rescue you if you were worried that I had designs on you. Just to set your mind at ease, I prefer brunettes.”

I thought I was past blushing but felt a warmth in my cheeks that probably meant they were turning an obvious pink. I didn’t know if the color signified embarrassment or anger.

I hope your investigative skills are sharper than your understanding of women, Mr. Pandora,” I told him, recovering my equanimity and trying to imbue my words with a certain indifferent good humor. “I can’t remember the last time I needed the protection of anyone or anything besides my own intelligence and wits.”

I sensed that he had enjoyed making me uncomfortable, even for that brief moment, and the cynical humor in his dark brown eyes made me call his name as he stepped down onto the first porch step.

When he turned back to look at me, I said sweetly, “I appreciate your candor, Mr. Pandora, and I’d like to reciprocate. You should know that my preference is for fair-haired men in uniform.” I paused, smiled, and added just before I closed the door, “Now you can set your mind at ease, too.”

Martin frowned the rest of the evening, but I think it was Ruth’s admiring comments about Jake Pandora that were the source of his irritation. My sister eventually noticed her husband’s frown and went over to his chair to kiss him on the cheek.

“I was speaking only in general terms, darling,” she told him. “Of course, no one can match either the strength of your character or your physique.”

Martin brushed off her words with a sputter and a harrumph, but I noticed he regained his good humor after that and was good company for the rest of the evening.

The next morning Donaldina and I discussed how and when I could best assist the work at 920. She wanted to offer me some slight remuneration, but I couldn’t take it as much as I would have appreciated having a little more pin money.

“I want to do this, Donaldina, and I don’t want to be paid for my time.”

“Are you sure? The Board already agreed to budget extra funds for your help. Don’t allow any residual guilt you might feel force you into an arrangement that you will eventually regret and resent. I intend to hold you to your promises.”

That morning I had shared with Miss Cameron my failure to follow up on Mae Tao’s whereabouts and had admitted to her, my voice cracking, that I had no excuse for my lack of concern except my own desire for enjoyment. Donaldina had not judged or condemned me, but the steel I heard in her voice at the conclusion of our meeting made me realize that my story had generated in her a vague unvoiced doubt about my dependability and intentions. As unarticulated as her disquiet was and as much as she attempted to keep her tone level, I heard an unmistakable wavering of belief in my character as she spoke. I knew that the responsibility she carried for 920 and its inhabitants justified her concern, but the uncertainty I heard in her voice shamed and hurt me.

“I expect to be held to my promises,” I replied. “I don’t make them lightly.” My words made her smile.

“You needn’t take that tone with me, Dinah.”

“What tone?”

“The one that dares me to challenge you, the same tone you probably used to hold the Boxers at bay for eight weeks.” She stood up. “I believe our expectations are in complete harmony and that pleases me. We will see you next Monday morning and every Monday and Tuesday for at least the next six weeks. Beyond that, we will make additional arrangements for your services on a weekly basis, understanding that your sister’s health may necessitate changes.” She put out her hand. “It’s a deal, Dinah. Men make them on a handshake. Why shouldn’t women do the same?”

“Why, indeed?” I rose and grasped her hand in mine. “It’s a deal, Dolly. You may rely on me.” She understood the depth of meaning behind my words.

“I know,” she answered simply, and the renewed confidence I heard in her few words warmed my heart.

Following our meeting, I went upstairs to find Suey Wah and nearly gasped when I entered the sickroom where I had last seen her. She was standing up fully dressed before Fei Yen, who was seated on a chair muttering and tugging at one of the sleeves of the child’s plain shirtwaist.

“Suey Wah!” I cried. “Look at my little bird! Are you strong enough to be out of bed?”

“Oh yes,” she responded, suddenly shy in my presence. “I am a very strong girl. Fei Yen and I wished to surprise you by coming down the stairs to you, but I fear my small arms have displeased Fei Yen because they do not fit this fine garment.”

Clearly, the shirtwaist sleeves were much too long and Fei Yen, struggling to roll them up Suey Wah’s thin arms in neat turns, finally gave up on the task, saying to me, “It is time for Suey Wah to join the other girls in chores and lessons, Miss Hudson. Lo Mo feels that the community is the greatest aid in the girls’ return to good health. And Suey Wah must learn English. She is in America now. The doctor said being up would not harm her, only she must continue to rest every afternoon until she has fully regained her strength. Bah!” With the last impatient word directed to the stubborn sleeves, Fei Yen stood and put her hands on Suey Wah’s shoulders, turning her to face me. “Your little bird heard you were here and wished to surprise you, and we would have done so, too, except for these large sleeves. Why is all this material necessary?”

Because I often asked myself that same question whenever I tried to fasten the many buttons at the bottom of flowing mutton-leg sleeves, I answered sympathetically, “I have no idea other than the fickle whim of fashion.” I crouched down in front of Suey Wah and rolled up her sleeves with a quick and practiced hand. Leaning back on my heels, I smiled. “There. Will that do?”

Suey Wah held out her arms in front of her and eyed my handiwork. “Oh, yes, Qing. Thank you.”

The appearance of her thin wrists that stuck out like two brittle sticks below the rolled-up sleeves touched me, and I moved quickly to take a seat on the edge of Suey Wah’s bed, hoping the sudden activity would hide the emotion I felt.

“Suey Wah, I would like to ask you some questions.” When Fei Yen would have left the room, I stopped her. “No, please stay if you can spare the time, Fei Yen. If Suey Wah cannot help me, maybe you would be willing to ask some of the other girls if they have the information I seek.” To Suey Wah I said, “Suey Wah, I seek a little girl like you. I knew her in China for many years and her mother before her, and recently I believe I saw her on a dock in this same city to which you were brought. I fear for her. I fear she has been treated as cruelly as you, only—”

“Only no kind Qing has come to rescue her. Poor girl.” Suey Wah’s eyes, dark and yet bright in the beautiful way of the Chinese, looked at me sadly. “I will help you if I can, Qing,” she reached out one small finger to my cheek, “but why do my words make you weep?”

Why, indeed, I asked myself, and did not try to explain.

When I said Mae Tao’s name, I watched Suey Wah’s face carefully, trying to catch even a glimmer of recognition. “She is small in stature like you,” I continued, still hopeful, “but with a round little face and two rosy cheeks, plump like a pigeon. And she was not shy, Suey Wah, she was a bold, talkative little girl. Full of advice. Very sure of herself. Does she sound familiar to you?” Suey Wah’s forehead wrinkled in concentration.

“At first it was hard for me to remember the trip across the ocean, Qing, but now I see things in my mind more clearly, like the boat and the men on the boat.” Her voice faltered before continuing. “There was a girl among us as you describe. She liked to talk. Oh, she talked a great deal and she was very brave and she said she was going straight back to China as soon as she got off the boat. She said her mother would miss her. But I do not remember her name.” She looked at me in apology. “I am very sorry, Qing. Perhaps her name was Mae Tao, but I cannot say. Somehow the name sounds familiar, but I can’t say for sure. Many girls were on the boat all together and we were not allowed to talk very much. Then, after the two girls died, we became very quiet and spoke only in whispers so the men would not hear us. It was dark where we were kept, too, and after a while we thought only about food and light and being free from the boat.”

“Did a man meet you on the dock when you got off the boat?”

“More than one man. We were separated and each man took some of the girls. The man who took me told us to hold hands and follow him. The brave girl I told you about was with me and I remember that when she tried to look around, he scolded us all. He was very fierce. We held onto each other and he led us to the house of that woman Dow Pai Tai. Oh, she was a very bad woman, Qing. Very bad. She made some of the girls cry.”

“Did you see what happened to any of the other girls, especially the girl who liked to talk? She sounds exactly like the Mae Tao I remember.”

“A man took some of the littlest girls away from Dow Pai Tai. He bought me, too, and then sold me to Wing Chee. I can’t be sure but he may have taken your Mae Tao and he may still have her. He was a turtle man, they said.”

I repeated the phrase, then asked, “What is a turtle man?”

“He led a tong. I heard someone call him a black dragon.” Without thinking, Suey Wah lowered her voice when she said the last words. For her, just the name of the tong held power and menace. “At Wing Chee’s I heard about this tong. Very bad, very bad, Qing. You must stay away from the black dragons. They are fearsome. Even Wing Chee was afraid of them. The look on his face when he said their name was the look of death. You must stay away from that tong!”

I squeezed her hand in assurance. “I will certainly stay away from those bad men, Suey Wah.” I noted the high color in her cheeks and decided she had had enough excitement for one day. Looking over at Fei Yen, I said, “Now I think Fei Yen wants to take you to your lessons. It’s time for you to start learning English, and here is your first word. Friend.” I said the word first in Chinese, then in English twice before I asked Suey Wah to repeat it. She could not quite wrap her tongue around the
fr
at the beginning of the word, but I complimented her anyway before repeating the sentence, “Miss Hudson and Suey Wah are friends.”

From Suey Wah’s attentive reaction, I thought she was a bright, obedient child, quick to learn and eager to please. I felt a proprietary satisfaction at the idea and as I watched her walk off with Fei Yen realized how quickly I had grown fond of the child. I would have to be careful of allowing such emotion to rule my work at 920, recalling the sound of past pain in Donaldina’s voice when she advised me to be responsible for only what I could control. From an honest look at the depth of my emotional engagement with Suey Wah—and after only a few days—I better understood the pointed advice. A progression of Suey Wahs and the retelling of her tragic story day after day with only minor variations would certainly take a toll on one’s mind, heart, and spirit.

I left 920 in the late morning, the sight of Colin O’Connor’s tall figure waiting on the sidewalk outside making me feel as excited as a schoolgirl on an outing. He wasn’t in uniform but wore a fawn-colored sport coat over matching trousers and an open-necked white shirt. Very man-about-town. I had picked practical clothes for the day, anticipating a bracing breeze, intermittent June sunshine, and a great deal of walking, so my light blue shirtwaist and split walking skirt were unimpressive. At the last minute, however, Ruth had volunteered one of her most fetching hats, a small-brimmed, flat-crowned straw confection trimmed with feathers and ribbon. If Colin O’Connor and I had been contestants for a sartorial prize, he would certainly have won—I’d never had the opportunity to develop much of a fashion sense, although the sight of Colin O’Connor lounging against the corner of the building watching me approach made me suddenly wish I’d paid more attention to my appearance that morning—but at least I had Ruth’s hat for confidence. My sister’s contribution to the day was just the right touch, perky and pretty and feminine, its ribbon of deep blue a perfect match for the color my eyes took on in the sunshine. Until I developed my own sense of style, I was fortunate to have Ruth to dress me to advantage.

Colin straightened when I gave a little wave of my hand and called, “Hello. I wondered if we’d find each other.”

“How could a man miss a girl like you?” he asked rhetorically in return and the admiring look in his eyes made me smile. “You look like those girls in the magazines.”

“What girls?”

“Those Gibson girls they’re called. The all-American girl.” He turned, obviously intending me to walk beside him.

I fell into step next to him, saying with a laugh, “I think there’s probably some irony in your saying that to someone who spent more than half her life in China, but thank you.” I changed the subject on purpose. “What’s the plan for the day?”

“We’ll take the cable car to Union Square and enjoy the sights. Then I’m taking you to the Poodle Dog for some of the best beef you’re ever going to have. Then I’ll make sure you get home. I found out I’m on the beat tonight so we’ll have to cut the day shorter than I wanted.” He didn’t sound happy about that fact, but when I tried to commiserate, he shrugged. “Two officers were injured in a brawl on Morton Street last night, and I have to fill in.”