The Girl Who Wrote in Silk (15 page)

“The Baron says it’s time,” Pearl mumbled from the doorway before disappearing again.

Mei Lien closed her eyes and imagined herself wearing the
sam
and
fu
she always wore and instantly felt the tension ease from her body. She preferred men’s clothing, but she knew that from today forward what she preferred would come second to her husband’s wishes. And he wanted her to wear dresses. Plus, dresses would help hide her from Campbell.

With a sigh, Mei Lien opened her eyes and forced her arms down by her sides. Then she followed Sapphire down the stairs to the brothel’s front parlor, where Joseph waited with the Baron and the captain. When he saw her, Joseph’s eyes widened with a look of surprise and admiration. He shot her a warm smile that eased some of her tension.

Without a word, Mei Lien took her place beside Joseph and kept her head bowed so he would not see the embarrassment on her face. This wasn’t the wedding day she’d always thought of having. Despite the handmade doilies on the furniture and imported lace curtains on the windows, this was still a brothel. She should be arriving at her new husband’s parents’ house riding in a brightly painted sedan chair and wearing a red silk
hung
kwa
. Rather than being surrounded by ladies of the night and merchants here to make a buck, she and her husband should be surrounded by family and friends.

As the captain started speaking, Mei Lien pushed away her negative thoughts. It was time now to bid farewell to her past and look ahead to her new future with hope. If not for her own sake, then for Joseph’s.

When prompted, she repeated the words the captain spoke. She smiled at Joseph as he made his pledge to her, and she tried all the while to believe this union would lead to happiness.

When it was over and the captain announced they were man and wife, Joseph lightly kissed her on the lips, which caused the ladies in the room to hoot and shout out bawdy encouragement. Joseph ignored them and grinned down at her. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. McElroy.”

Mrs. McElroy. The name felt so odd directed at her. In her culture, women did not change their names to match their husband’s. For Joseph, she smiled. “Thank you.”

He squeezed her hand. “You look beautiful, Mei Lien.”

She felt heat climb up her neck. To hide the surprising longing his words breathed to life in her, and the accompanying embarrassment, she turned her eyes away.

Soon they were on the street again, hurrying to catch a steamer bound for home since even the Baron could not secure them respectable lodging for their wedding night, and the sun was setting fast. As they reached the docks and the waiting stack of supplies the Baron charged Joseph extra to expedite, Mei Lien felt her gaze stray past the gaslit streets to the north of town and the darkening beach where Grandmother’s body had been found. The tide had come in, completely covering the rocks where she had lain.

All trace of Grandmother was gone and Mei Lien knew her life before that horrible night was gone forever too. She would never again touch, smell, see, or hear anything from that time. It was gone forever.

A low, burning anger settled into her stomach as she stared at the water-covered beach. Silently she promised her family she would never forget what had been done to them.

Someday, somehow, she would make sure the truth was told. She would tell the story, or she would die trying.

Monday, July 9—present day

PMG Headquarters, Seattle

Inara pulled out another file drawer to sort through the dusty records in the basement of Premier Maritime Group, looking for anything from 1886. She’d been at it an hour already and had only forty-five minutes left before the meeting she’d scheduled with her father.

She could have confronted her father at home yesterday when she got into town, but she wanted their meeting to be on a professional level. She hadn’t told him she was here, in fact, and had stayed last night in her sister’s guest room even though Olivia and her family were vacationing in Hawaii. First thing this morning Inara had called her father’s assistant, Zoé, to schedule the meeting.

And then she’d come straight to PMG, where the security guard knew her and didn’t blink an eye when she told him she needed to do research in the company archives.

Hopefully soon, she’d find what she was looking for and she’d know whether this heaviness weighing her down had merit or not. For all she knew, Mei Lien had embroidered the
Prince
of
the
Pacific
on her sleeve as a coincidence and its being there was of no significance.

But still, she had to know.

With only ten minutes left, she found a file with handwritten logs from the
Prince
of
the
Pacific
dated February 7, 1886, the date Daniel said the Chinese were driven out of Seattle. Duncan Campbell, owner, was listed as the person in charge of the sailing; the captain was second-in-command.

Three hundred forty-seven people, all Chinese, had boarded in Seattle, their passage paid at a discounted rate, some by the Chinese themselves, some by the citizens of Seattle willing to do anything to rid their city of an entire ethnicity.

The next entry was dated one day later in Astoria, Oregon. Although nothing was unloaded there, the
Prince
took on two hundred seventy-six passengers, their belongings, and nine hundred tons of canned salmon bound for San Francisco.

There was no way all of that could have fit on board with the more than three hundred passengers already there.

She looked closer at the ink scratchings. Nothing had been unloaded when the ship docked in Astoria and no other stops were recorded prior. Where were all the Chinese people? They couldn’t have just disappeared.

And then she knew.

And with the knowledge came a wave of nausea so great she broke out in a sweat and had to sit down right there on the dusty cement floor.

They’d been dumped overboard. By her great-great-great-grandfather.

She pushed the palms of her hands to the sides of her head as horror and shame consumed her. Her thoughts whirled. If the ship had docked somewhere to unload the passengers, the log would have noted that. Plus, an influx of Chinese into any community at that time would have caused a stir. The fact that no logical explanation for their disappearance was noted on the log proved that the company wanted no record of it. Something illegal and inhumane had occurred.

The pictures on the sleeve weren’t metaphors or exaggerations as Daniel had assumed. The pictures depicted the actual event in which Duncan Campbell and his employees had murdered hundreds of innocent people by dumping them off his ship. These people had disappeared, and no one in her family had thought to question it in all the years since.

She knew if she dug into the incident, she’d find evidence showing the citizens of Seattle had believed the Chinese made it safely to San Francisco or China. That is, if they thought about the Chinese people at all. The families and friends of the Chinese killed had probably been too afraid to question why their loved ones were never heard from again. Or they too had assumed that those on the ship had moved to California and had gotten on with their lives.

But Mei Lien had known the truth. And she’d used her embroidery to tell the world what happened. Oh God, had she been thrown overboard too? And somehow survived? Is that how she ended up on Orcas?

The alarm on Inara’s cell phone chimed loudly through the dusty basement, startling her. It was time for her meeting with Dad. Good. He’d know what to do about all this. Hurrying, she stashed the file in her shoulder bag and climbed to her feet, sliding the file drawer shut before heading to the elevators.

In less than four minutes, she was on the top floor of the building, standing in front of her father’s desk with a view of Elliott Bay sparkling sixty-seven floors below in patches of sun poking through breaks in the clouds.

Charles Erickson looked happy to see her. “I thought you weren’t coming home for a while,” he said, planting his hands on his desk and pushing to his feet. She held up a hand, stopping him from rounding the desk to give her a hug. He sat back down with a questioning look.

She got right to it. “Back when the company was first getting started, did we ever carry people, especially Chinese, from Seattle to San Francisco?”

He held himself strangely still. “Of course. We carried whatever needed to get from one place to another.”

She hesitated, afraid of how her news would affect him. He was going to be as devastated by the information as she was.

“Dad,” she started gently, “there was one voyage in particular that has me concerned. On February 7, 1886, the
Prince
of
the
Pacific
left port with a full manifest of passengers. Chinese passengers.”

He pressed his palms onto the polished top of his desk. “Go on.”

She swallowed. “The Chinese passengers never made it anywhere. It’s like they disappeared. The next port the ship went to was Astoria, and not one passenger disembarked. Yet they loaded more, plus freight.”

Her dad got to his feet and turned his back to her as he gazed out at Elliott Bay, where a PMG container ship was being tugged to the dock at Harbor Island. A twinge of regret sliced through her. Maybe she shouldn’t burden him with this.

But he had to know. “I…I think Duncan Campbell murdered them.”

He bowed his head, making her wish she could pull the words back into herself.

Just as she opened her mouth to say she was wrong, it was a misunderstanding, he said, “I knew you poking around that place was a mistake.”

She closed her mouth and stared at her father. The words made no sense. As she struggled to comprehend, Zoé buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Erickson, the driver just called. He’s picked up the Yŏu Yì Cruises team from the airport and expects to be here within twenty minutes.”

Her father stepped to the desk and hit a button. “Thanks, Zoé. Tell me as soon as they arrive.” After disconnecting, he shoved his hands in his pants pockets and looked at Inara across the wide desk. “Your grandmother told your mother about the incident, how Duncan referred to it as ‘dumping the worthless ballast.’ He knew not to talk about it in public, but privately he was proud of what he did. Claimed to have saved his ship from ruin, had he let filthy Orientals stay aboard. Afterward, he turned into Astoria for a regularly scheduled pickup of passengers and freight, and no one was the wiser.”

Her attention caught on his first sentence. “Mom knew?”

He nodded. “And she worked every day of her life trying to make up for it.”

Her throat constricted and she sank into one of the chairs facing the desk. Her parents had known all along, and they’d let her and all of Seattle worship Duncan Campbell as the great founding father when really he’d been a racist murderer. She’d written reports on him in school and proudly watched the annual school production in which Duncan was a key character. If she’d known, she…she… She dropped her chin to her chest. She didn’t know what she would have done. Maybe nothing, like her parents.

“Why, Dad?” She didn’t know if she was asking why Duncan did it, or why her parents hadn’t told her the truth before now. Maybe she was asking both.

“Things were very different then. People didn’t understand about other cultures and ethnicities. All they saw was that the Chinese weren’t like anything they were used to, and that scared them. Fear drives people to do horrible things.”

“But most people don’t murder innocent families out of fear.” Inara closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. She still couldn’t make sense of the fact that her parents had known all this time.

“When you started talking about the Chinese sleeve you found, I knew it must be connected in some way to those people, to what Duncan did.” His voice dropped an octave. “You should get rid of it, Inara. Burn it.”

Her eyes flew open. “And keep lying about our family and how wonderful we all are like you’ve done for so long?” She got to her feet to pace, keeping her distance from her dad. “Should I stand in front of the media in a couple months and dedicate the Duncan Campbell Park to the people of Seattle knowing that he murdered hundreds? No. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“You have to, Inara. The truth would do more damage than it’s worth.”

She stopped pacing. “Seriously, Dad? Don’t you think the damage was done a century ago, and you and Mom and Grandpa and everyone else just made it worse by lying about it?”

He sat wearily in his leather chair, his face pale. “You sound like your mother. She thought the truth should be told too, but she understood the damage it would do to our company and our family. That’s when she started giving so much of her time and our money to charities. Her life’s mission became trying to undo some of the harm done by her great-great-grandfather.”

“I didn’t know that.” It explained why she’d worked so hard.

“No one did, honey.”

Inara had so much to think about that she felt overwhelmed by it all. She took her father’s place at the window and stared down at the water below, wondering what it had been like that day Mei Lien and her family were loaded onto a steamer, never to return. Guilt burned her soul. Inara may not have been alive at the time, but she felt responsible for what had happened. Like her mom, she wanted to find a way to make it better. To absolve her family shame.

“Did it help Mom? The charity work?”

“Some.” Her dad didn’t elaborate, but Inara knew her mom must have died with the guilt still weighing heavily on her.

“A Chinese woman lived in Dahlia’s house before Campbell bought it. Did you know that?” She could tell by the widening of her father’s eyes that he didn’t. “Her name was Mei Lien, and she was married to a man named Joseph McElroy. She’s the one who made the sleeve. She knew what Duncan did that night, but we don’t know how she’s connected or how she ended up on the island. Do you?”

“No. And we’ll probably never know, but you have to give this thing up. Stop researching it and let the secrets stay buried. You’ve got enough on your plate with the hotel.” He stood up and leaned his hands on his desk. “Think of your brother, who’s down the hall preparing to meet with Chinese businessmen who are selling us their company, entrusting us with their assets, staff, and reputation. Someday Nathan will take over from me. Do you want to hurt his future? And your sister’s? No one will want to take their kids to her clinic if they know the truth. You have to keep it quiet, Inara.”

The censure in his voice stabbed into her but she pushed it away. “Yeah, I know,” she hedged. “You’ve got to get to your meeting so I’ll get out of your hair now.”

She returned to the chair to gather her things. The anger that had been burning her up just a moment ago now fizzled into a dragging sadness. The secret may have been kept this long, but she knew the sleeve was going to change that, no matter how much her dad wanted to keep the incident buried.

Unless she did as he asked and stopped researching the sleeve and Mei Lien. Told Daniel to stop his research too. Burned the sleeve.

“I’m serious, Inara. If word about this gets out, I’m going to have to pull your funding.” His face was turning red and he looked sweaty.

She knew that getting this worked up wasn’t good for his heart, but she had to ask, “You would really do that to me?”

“If you insist on hurting the rest of us, I’ll have no choice.”

All she could do was stare at the carpet and consider her options. But, of course, she really didn’t have any. She was defeated. “I won’t let the truth get out. And you’re right. I need my focus to be on the hotel.”

His brow smoothed, but as he sat down in his chair, his hand slipped into his coat pocket and drew out a tiny vial of pills. She could tell he was trying to hide the nitroglycerin tablet from her as he slid it under his tongue, but she saw and it worried her.

“You okay, Dad?”

“I’m fine, just fine.” He pushed to his feet and reached for his suit jacket.

“When was the last time you saw Dr. Kozlowski?”

He had his jacket on now and was heading for the door. “Just a couple weeks ago, and I got a clean bill of health. Don’t worry. Let me see you out.”

Inara held up her hand, remembering just in time the other reason she was there. “Wait, I’m not done.”

Dad had been reaching for the door handle, but he stopped at her words and turned back to her with a sigh. “What?” He sounded exhausted.

“Luxe Realty? Really?”

She saw guilt flash over his face as he stuck his hands in his pockets. Wordlessly he returned to his desk, where he leaned against the polished oak and crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “All I asked her to do was a market analysis. That way we’ll know what the property is worth when the time comes.”

With his complexion looking stronger now, she had no qualms about arguing. “When the time comes? So you’re just expecting me to fail?”

“I worry about you, sweetheart. You don’t have enough real-world experience to successfully manage this project, and you won’t let me bring on someone who does.”

“Because I can do this, Dad. It’s important I do it my way.”

“But you’re spending a lot of my money, and I’m not sure I’ll see a return on my investment.” He shifted, crossing one ankle over the other. “Normally I’d let you feel your way, but this time the stakes are higher. I’m trying to save you from a disaster that could take you, literally, the rest of your life to dig out from.”