Gold Mountain (3 page)

“You’ll love it here, Dinah. I know you will. The climate is lovely and the city exciting. There are all kinds of cultural offerings, including musical and dramatic ventures that I know you’ll love. And because of Martin’s work—” Ruth smiled proudly and looked over at her husband, who was quietly eating breakfast as the two of us conversed “—we’ve met some of the most prominent citizens of the city so our social circle is both prestigious and interesting,” concluding nonchalantly with, “I’ve met several very eligible bachelors, any of whom might end up being the perfect man for you.”

“I suspect God broke the mold for the perfect man after Martin was born,” I replied, hoping to forestall the matchmaking gleam in my sister’s eyes. Ruth knew me well enough to understand my intention but couldn’t resist the tempting opening, especially when Martin modestly began to disagree with my expansive statement.

“Martin is a wonderful husband and a good provider. He’s been promoted to chief teller at the bank with increased responsibilities and a matching increase in salary, all just in time for our new addition. According to Mr. Gallagher, the bank’s owner, bank manager will be the next step.” Her tone continued to display pride and affection for her husband as she rested one hand lightly on her increased waistline. “But Martin is also very busy and he works long hours. That’s why I’m so glad you’ll be here for the birth, Dinah.”

Startled, I responded, “But I hadn’t planned to stay that long. I only made the trip to accompany Johanna and check up on you. I told Father eight weeks at the most.”

“Well, you’ll have to write and let him know it will be six months at a minimum. He would never expect you to leave before the baby comes.” Ruth set down the delicate teacup she had been holding. “I admit I’m a little surprised that you’re so ready and willing to return to China after what you’ve been through. Was it as terrible as the newspapers made it seem?”

“I didn’t read the papers,” I answered calmly, “so, of course, I don’t know how the situation was presented in print, but it was certainly terrible. Worse for some than others but all around and incontrovertibly terrible.”

I could never describe what it had been like to find the hacked bodies of friends in the streets or see a man die in front of me, picked off by a sniper mid-sentence. I carried heavier burdens, too, shadows that lurked at the edge of my consciousness, memories I couldn’t share. If I were as sensitive as my sister or had her same delicacy of feeling, I would have been plagued by bad dreams as Johanna had been, but happily for me, I possessed a pragmatic nature and the ability to subjugate past experience to present necessity. That combination usually allowed me to force unwelcome memories into a distant corner of my mind, shutting the troublesome creatures into a locked cage where they crouched untouched and undisturbed. Sometimes they would stir ominously when roused by a sound or smell that blazed a quick picture across my mind with the same brilliance and suddenness of a photographer’s flash. Fortunately, the moment usually passed as quickly as a flash, too, and the beasts would settle once again into their fitful slumber. Looking into Ruth’s blue eyes fixed with such concern on my face, I realized I could never share all the details with her about those horrendous weeks. I knew, recalling the time our mother had died, that my sister was more susceptible than I to dreams and memories, and with her present condition, I imagined she might be even more sensitive to any thing I told her about my experiences during the siege of Pekin. And some things I couldn’t have spoken out loud, regardless of the sympathies of the listener. I feared that wrapping memories in words would give them such power that I would never be able to lock them away again.

As if to fill the sudden silence around the table, Martin stood, folded the newspaper he had been reading, and kissed his wife lightly on the cheek.

“And what plans do the two of you have for the day?”

“I thought we might go shopping,” my sister suggested. “The stores are wonderful and—”

“We may do anything you like,” I interrupted pleasantly, “after I make a visit to the Pandora Transport Company.”

“Are you still convinced you recognized a Chinese girl on the dock yesterday?”

“I’m absolutely certain, Ruth, but I can’t imagine why Mae Tao would be in San Francisco. She should be with her mother in Pekin, caring for her little brothers and sisters, exactly where I last saw her.”

“You were at a distance, Dinah, and they all look alike. If you’ve seen one Celestial, you’ve seen them all.”

My brother-in-law’s observation was offensive on several levels and brought the conversation to a standstill. I stared at Martin, momentarily made speechless by the casual scorn and disgust in his tone and sentiment, and either my look or my silence caused a touch of defensiveness to creep into his voice.

“I meant no disrespect, but it’s not as if there’s the same variety of features you find in Americans. They all have yellow skin and their eyes slant. You could easily have mistaken any Chinese girl for this Mae Tao.”

To control my temper, I took a deep breath before speaking. I did not pretend to know my brother-in-law well. We had not spent much time in each other’s company, and I understood that when Martin had met my sister in China, he had been there only temporarily for business reasons. At that time, the country was no longer foreign to us because it had been our home for years, but Martin had not lived among the population or experienced our opportunity to appreciate China’s art and culture and rich variety of people. Nevertheless, to hear all the inhabitants of a great country lumped together under a dismissive description that used only two physical features annoyed me a great deal.

“I was not mistaken, Martin. I have lived among the Chinese for over half my life and I find a great deal of variety in the Chinese face. In fact, some Chinese—this may astound you—do not have yellow skin at all.” Martin flushed, sensing the rebuke behind my badly veiled sarcasm.

“I told you I meant no offense, Dinah.” Relieved to change the subject, he continued, “I have a general idea where the office of The Pandora Transport Company is located, and I don’t advise you going there. It’s in a part of town into which unescorted women should not venture.” He turned to look sternly at Ruth. “My wife is not going to accompany you to such a location.”

Ruth opened her mouth to respond, caught his eye, and remained quiet.

“I wouldn’t dream of asking her to do so,” I rejoined, although that had been my exact intention until just a moment ago. “Perhaps you—”

“I am leaving for work now and will not be home until supper time, I’m afraid.” The satisfied smugness in Martin’s tone caused me to feel a quick flare of dislike for my brother-in-law. He hadn’t seemed so priggish when I’d known him in China.

“I see. And you’re sure that where Pandora is located is in a part of the city that’s not safe?”

“The alleys behind the Broadway Dock are no place for you, Dinah. You’ll have to trust me. I know the city better than you.”

“Very well, then, Martin. Of course, I trust your judgment.” I took a sip of tea and smiled at him. “I hope your day at work goes well.” He looked grateful, if somewhat surprised, that our discussion had ended so abruptly and so amicably.

“Thank you. I hope you ladies enjoy your shopping today,” adding by way of concession, “Mr. Gallagher has some contacts in Chinatown. When I next see him, I’ll ask if he has any suggestions about locating this Mae Tao.”

Ruth walked with Martin from the bright breakfast room into the hallway, and I heard their murmurs of conversation before she returned to stand in the doorway studying me.

“Tell me I’m misunderstanding the look on your face,” she said finally.

“What look would that be?”

“The look that says you intend to do exactly as you please and you didn’t mean a word you said to my husband.”

“I do intend to do as I please—in this matter, at least—but that doesn’t mean I was prevaricating to Martin. Not entirely.” At her skeptical look, I grinned. “I do find a great variety of expression in the faces of the Chinese and I wasn’t mistaken about Mae Tao.”

“But Martin has forbidden me to accompany you to that steamship office, Dinah, and I won’t disobey my husband!”

Ruth looked sincerely distressed, and I had to squelch the familiar feeling of guilt I always felt when upsetting my sister or leading her into a mischief for which she had no true inclination. As the elder sister, I had too often taken unfair advantage of her pliability and the poor girl had occasionally shared in the unpleasant consequences of actions that should rightfully have fallen only on me. I rose to give her a quick kiss before sidling past her through the doorway.

“You are an exemplary wife, and I would never ask you to disobey your husband.”

“Dinah, you heard what Martin said! Pandora is located in a part of town into which unescorted women should not venture. He said you were not to go.” I turned to face her as she followed me down the hallway.

“You are confusing issues, Ruth. It’s no doubt commendable that you are such a tractable and respectful wife, but Martin is not my husband and I have every intention of visiting the Broadway Dock. It was very kind of Martin to tell me where the office was located.”

My sister said my name with the touch of reproof I remembered from our childhood and continued, “You haven’t been in San Francisco even one complete day. You don’t know your way around the city. Why can’t you entertain the idea that you might possibly be mistaken about this girl? You haven’t changed one little bit, you know. You always have to be right!”

“I know,” I rejoined, grinning at her again, “but don’t look so worried. I understand that the trait of stubborn disobedience skips a generation, so it’s unlikely your little one will inherit any of the bad characteristics I seem to possess.” Because she continued to look worried, I added, “I’ll hire a cab so I don’t get lost, and I’ll be back before you know I’m gone. We can shop all afternoon. It’s amazing how impervious to danger one feels after living through a violent rebellion, Ruth, and spending a few minutes in a rough part of town isn’t going to hurt me. Believe me, I learned how to be careful. I promise everything will be fine. I just can’t rest until I find out where Mae Tao is. I need to be sure she’s safe and in respectable hands. I can remember when she was born. I watched her grow up, and I need to assure myself that she’s all right. I can’t for the life of me figure out why she would be in San Francisco. Her mother worked at the girls’ school and depended on Mae Tao to take care of her little brothers and sisters.”

As I pinned on my hat, I thought how easily Ruth and I had slipped back into old patterns. My parents, my two older brothers, my sister, and I had traveled to China fifteen years earlier, fresh from the tree-lined streets of Cleveland, Ohio, none of us—not even my father, the only one with any foreknowledge that such a move might inevitably and permanently transform us as a family—really comprehending how profoundly the transition would affect us. We were an idealistic, hopeful, generous group of benevolent amateurs, intent on doing good and changing lives, and it turned out that it was our lives that changed long before we were able to better the day-to-day existence of the Chinese poor. Eventually we did make a difference, set up a hospital and a school, brought hygiene, hope, and happiness to some, but not before our mother died of a virulent fever and my elder brother, Joseph, abruptly and unexpectedly left home to join the Navy fourteen months after our mother’s death, never to return.

At the time Father attributed Joe’s departure to grief—my brother had been very close to Mother—but from his first letter home, it was obvious that Joe loved the Navy, loved the sea and ships and sailing, the broad expanse of horizon and the sound of waves slapping against the hull. I knew he had found his destiny and was a little envious of his ability to answer the call of adventure. I felt the same passion as he for the water and understood the siren voice that would eventually take his life as he died with 265 other men aboard the USS Maine when it exploded in Havana Harbor one February night in 1898. My clear-eyed brother, who possessed a gift for enthusiasm that was even brighter than his eyes, still lay at the bottom of Havana Harbor, forever twenty-six, smiling, and wearing a jaunty sailor’s cap, exactly as he appeared in the black-draped photo hanging on the wall of our parlor in China.

Joe had been the instigator of all mischief and I had been his eager accomplice, both of us thorns in Ruth’s side, poor girl. After Joe’s enlistment, I had taken upon my shoulders the mantle of his exuberant love for adventure and daring tomfoolery and because David was already a serious divinity student, had only Ruth as collaborator. Admittedly, an unwilling and unappreciative collaborator, bemoaning my lack of feminine instinct and wishing with all her heart that a miracle would occur to spare her the uncomfortable mixture of affectionate exasperation and dread that haunted her conscience whenever she and I were left to our own devices.

The miracle for which Ruth prayed showed up one Sunday morning at the Presbyterian Church in Pekin and his name was Martin Shandling. Since that fateful morning meeting, Ruth had become a wife, moved to San Francisco with her husband, set up housekeeping in comfortable affluence, and now awaited motherhood. We had been apart for over three years and yet, within twenty-four hours of reunion, I had forced us back into old and familiar behaviors. She had matured. Apparently I had only grown older.

My sister lived in what appeared to be a new home in a fledgling neighborhood on Grove Street just east of a main thoroughfare called Van Ness. Her house along with all the houses in that area seemed poised, both geographically and economically, on the edge of prosperity, not mansions but the house in which one lived just before moving into a mansion. Martin must be doing very well indeed.