The Girl Who Wrote in Silk (20 page)

Through her exhaustion she heard her child’s first cry and felt her heart tug in answer.

“It’s a boy!” Joseph’s voice sounded husky with emotion.

She nodded. She closed her eyes to rest as Joseph wiped the baby clean. She still had her eyes closed when he laid their son on her chest, and she relished the fragile softness and heat of him. Then, she opened her eyes and looked at her baby for the first time.

His eyes were open and staring up at her, dark and deeper than the ocean. In that moment she felt something pass between herself and her son. A kind of communication that didn’t need words. She’d never met him before, but at that moment she knew she’d always known him.

“Welcome, little one,” she whispered in Chinese through her tight throat. With her fingertip she gently caressed the black fuzz on top of his head and examined the rest of him from his little nose to the tips of his ten toes. He was perfect.

And, from this moment on, he was forever hers to protect.

Unbidden, the image of her father’s agonized face as he pushed her from the steamship filled her mind. At the time she’d believed he was in pain from his injuries. Now she knew he was feeling the pain of loving another person so much.

She would never push this child away from her.

Hours later, after Mei Lien and her son had learned to nurse and had taken a nap, which wasn’t long enough for Mei Lien, all three of them were snuggled together in the bed. The baby was wrapped tight in a soft green blanket Joseph had traded a box of pears for.

“What should we call him?” Joseph asked, his gaze tender on his son.

“Yan-Tao,” she told him, suddenly feeling shy that she’d never considered anything but a Chinese name for their son. “It means handsome.”

Joseph nodded and ran a finger down the baby’s cheek. His hand looked huge next to the baby’s tiny face. “I like Yan-Tao. Can we also choose a second name for him that would help him fit in with the other kids on the island?”

She knew he meant a name that might help Yan-Tao seem more white, not Chinese. Her eyes burned and she couldn’t form the words he wanted, so she just nodded, accepting what had to be.

“Do you like the name Kenneth?” His fingers moved from the baby to stroke lightly up and down Mei Lien’s arm. “It was my father’s name. He was a good man.”

This child who would forever straddle two worlds, Chinese and white, would have the honor of being named for his white grandfather. Mei Lien felt fresh tears flood her eyes. Her son was surely blessed to be watched over by the spirits of both grandfathers. And he was blessed with a father who looked at him the way her own father had looked at her.

“I’ll see he carries the name with honor.”

Friday, August 12, 1887

McElroy Farm, Orcas Island

The next weeks were a blur of caring for the baby, caring for her own healing but still very sore body, eating when she could, sleeping when she could, and crying along with Yan-Tao when she couldn’t calm him.

Mei Lien longed for another woman to talk with who had experience raising a child. She’d never been around babies and felt stupid asking her husband, who’d helped with numerous younger cousins back home in Indiana and knew how to pin diapers and hold the baby’s head. Shouldn’t a mother know these things?

But slowly she learned and even surprised herself when her instincts guided her correctly and she was able to soothe Yan-Tao all by herself when Joseph was in the orchard. Slowly she gained confidence and strength.

But not sleeping was taking a toll on her. The baby woke crying and hungry every three hours, and Joseph could not help with feeding him. Besides, Joseph was busy picking the apples in their orchard every day and needed to sleep through the night.

At midmorning two weeks after Yan-Tao’s birth, Mei Lien was mixing dough in the kitchen for the bread she should have made hours earlier. Instead she’d stayed in bed, attempting to recapture some lost sleep with Yan-Tao beside her.

He lay in the bassinet Joseph had built and placed in the kitchen where she could keep an eye on the baby as she worked. He wasn’t fussing at the moment, but she knew it was just a matter of time, so she worked quickly, scraping the dough onto the countertop, then working it with her hands—shaping and kneading until it was smooth and ready to go into the pan to rise on the back of the stove.

The sound of voices drifted in through the open kitchen window and she froze. Campbell. She was sure of it. He always seemed to show up when Joseph wasn’t around, and today he was out picking in the section of the orchard farthest from the house.

Willing the baby to remain silent, she wiped her flour-covered hands on a tea towel and crept to the sitting room window. Careful not to move the curtains more than necessary, she peeked through to the yard outside where the voices came from.

It was Campbell, all right, and he had another man, a woman, and two little girls with him in his wagon. Joseph would be furious to find Campbell on his property. Thus far, he’d been able to avoid the man almost entirely, and when forced into conversation, Joseph had made it clear, without explanation, that they were no longer friends. Campbell never asked Joseph for help on his farm anymore, and except for that day on the beach when Mei Lien went into labor, he’d kept his distance from both of them.

As she watched, Campbell pulled up in front of the house and jumped out. The second man also jumped to the ground and reached back up to lift the little girls down.

Campbell and the other man spoke together, their hat brims nearly touching, though Mei Lien could not make out their words. As she watched, Campbell raised his arm and pointed across the road to the orchards where she knew Joseph was working—but how did Campbell know that?

The woman, in the meantime, handed several bags down to what Mei Lien assumed were her daughters, who in turn threw them on a growing pile on the ground. The girls looked identical, from their long blond ringlets to their matching dusk-blue dresses, black stockings, and black leather boots. Their mother, a sturdy sort, had chestnut-colored hair pulled back into a severe bun topped by what Mei Lien assumed was a fashionable hat. With a look of exasperation aimed toward the men, the woman grabbed hold of a corner of her gray skirt and climbed from the wagon herself since the men were so caught up in their conversation.

“You go on into the house and get settled,” said the second man to his wife. He was about the same size as Campbell, though a bit plumper. “Mr. Campbell’s going to take me to find your brother in the orchard.”

Brother?

Mei Lien gasped. Joseph never wrote back to tell his sister not to come!

The woman lifted her face toward the house and Mei Lien jerked back, afraid of being caught watching. What was she to do with houseguests? She barely had the energy to get through the day herself with her son, let alone cook, clean, and make conversation with people she didn’t know.

She could hear footsteps on the porch now and knew she could hide no longer. Quickly, she smoothed her apron over her still swollen stomach and then brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears since she didn’t have time to pull it into a proper knot.

The door opened without a knock and in swept the woman, followed closely by her daughters. Joseph’s sister wore fine gray silk in a style that had clearly been made for her, not like the shapeless clothes Mei Lien wore. The woman held herself tall and stiff, her chin lifted so that the feather on her hat fell back rather than in front of her face. The air around her smelled of rose water, a scent Mei Lien had never cared for.

The woman’s face pinched as her gaze took in the messy house. Soiled clothing lay in a heap on the floor beside the door waiting for Mei Lien to wash them, two weeks overdue. Mei Lien knew the dishes from breakfast were visible through the door to the kitchen, stacked on the counter amid the flour she had yet to clean up.

At that moment Yan-Tao woke with a cry. Mei Lien snapped into motion and bustled into the kitchen to scoop him from the bassinet. When she turned, she saw the woman had followed her. She watched as Joseph’s sister took in the full mess of the kitchen and then, with lips pinched, landed her cold gaze on Mei Lien.

As the woman’s eyes met hers, Mei Lien felt her breath catch. It was like looking at Joseph. The same green eyes, slightly almond shaped, but lacking Joseph’s warmth and humor.

“You may inform your mistress that her guests have arrived.” The words were clipped and condescending.

It took Mei Lien a moment to catch the woman’s meaning. Shamed, she hid her face against Yan-Tao’s cheek, then stiffened her back and forced a smile. “You must be Joseph’s sister, Elizabeth. I’m so sorry. We forgot you were coming. Our son was born just two weeks ago, and Joseph’s been so busy with the harvest…” Her words floated away from her.

“Well, thank heavens for that charming Mr. Campbell who gave us a ride from the steamer landing. Otherwise, who knows what would have become of us!” She sniffed as if it was Mei Lien’s fault Joseph had not been waiting for his sister at the dock. Elizabeth placed her hands on her daughters’ shoulders as though to keep them from coming any closer to Mei Lien.

“I am sorry,” Mei Lien said again, knowing nothing she said would help. She stood dumbly as Elizabeth raked her gaze over her, revulsion darkening her features.

Of course Elizabeth doesn’t like what she sees
, Mei Lien thought, comforting herself. Her clothes and hair were a mess, and she probably had Yan-Tao’s dried spit-up on her shoulder.

That, and she was Chinese.

“Please,” she said as she bounced Yan-Tao against her shoulder, trying to hold off his next feeding. “Come with me. I’ll show you where you will sleep so you can get settled.”

“Who are you?” Elizabeth asked bluntly.

The question stopped Mei Lien. Who else could she be? She forced her smile to stay in place as she turned back to her sister-in-law. “I am Mei Lien McElroy. Joseph calls me May, and you can do the same if you choose. I’m very pleased to finally meet you because I have no family of my own anymore.”

“And that?” She pointed to Yan-Tao.

Mei Lien felt her smile drop and could do nothing to stop it. Feeling the sudden need to protect her child, Mei Lien held him tighter. “This is Joseph’s and my son, Ya—” She stopped, remembering her son’s white name. “Kenneth. After your late father. We call him Ken.”

The girls broke from their mother’s grasp and crowded closer to see their cousin, remarking on his tiny nose and seashell ears, seeming not to notice his darker skin and hair, nor the rounded Chinese face pressed against her shoulder. Their mother, however, remained across the kitchen, her nose wrinkled. “He sure is…squinty,” she stammered.

Squinty. Mei Lien felt the heavy burning inside that had become familiar to her since the day she’d been forced out of her home in Seattle. Of course her son had slanted eyes; he was half Chinese. No one would make her feel ashamed of that. No one. Not even family.

It was all she could do to hold back a retort. Instead she turned to the stairs to lead the woman to the room that would become Yan-Tao’s when he outgrew the bassinet. She cared little if the woman actually followed.

She did follow, of course, and so did her girls.

“You and your husband can sleep here, in this bed,” Mei Lien told her as she smoothed the quilt with one hand, grateful she’d cleaned the room just a few days before Yan-Tao’s birth. “We don’t have another bed for the girls, but I can make up a place for them on the floor with blankets and pillows.”

“My children are not dogs who sleep on floors.”

Mei Lien straightened and stood staring at the wall as all the blood in her body seemed to rush to her head. Her womb chose that moment to twinge, making her yearn for the chance to sit and rest, but her pride wouldn’t allow it. She knew there would be many more moments like this one over the next three days.

Mei Lien turned to her guest. “We do have the cabin Joseph built when he first moved here. It’s in the trees across the meadow but is close enough to come to the main house for meals and such.”

Elizabeth clapped her palms together. “Then it’s settled! You and Joseph will sleep there and the girls will sleep in your bed. Come, girls. Let’s collect our things.”

The three tromped back down the stairs, leaving Mei Lien standing in the bedroom with her mouth hanging open. She and her newborn baby had just been kicked out of their own house.

Three days, she reminded herself as she forced her feet to move. Three days and then they’d be gone. She could do this. For Joseph’s sake.

• • •

Somehow that first day Elizabeth talked her brother into stopping his work at noon to guide them up the famous Mount Constitution. She wanted to see the view someone told her stretched from Canada to Oregon. Mei Lien did not have the strength to make the climb and was happy to see the lot of them go, leaving her alone for the entire afternoon to straighten the house, cook dinner, and move the belongings she and Joseph would need to the cabin.

When they returned, Mei Lien had dinner on the table. What followed set the pattern for the rest of the weekend. Elizabeth and Marcus, her husband, would sit and talk with Joseph and only direct a comment to Mei Lien when necessary. Joseph did his best to draw her into conversation or try to include her in a card game, but she knew her presence made the others uncomfortable so she politely refused and took herself off to clean the dishes or nurse Yan-Tao.

She watched carefully and saw how Marcus ignored Yan-Tao, even when the baby was in Joseph’s arms right in front of him and screaming at the top of his lungs. Elizabeth at least looked at the child, though it was always with a pinched expression. She never touched him.

Their girls, however, whom Mei Lien learned were ten years old, did not seem to notice their parents’ revulsion or indifference. They would sit on their knees in front of Yan-Tao, talking and cooing and giggling with each other over him and repeatedly begging to hold him.

Mei Lien ached with exhaustion made worse by the tension gripping her shoulders in her guests’ presence. Elizabeth never offered to help her with chores or meals, leaving everything for Mei Lien to juggle along with the fussy baby.

But to her credit, Elizabeth loved her family and her brother. That much was obvious, and it went a long way toward making Mei Lien tolerate her presence. As Joseph talked, telling them about their life here on the island and their plans for shipping their harvest to Seattle and using the profit to expand the house and someday build a dock in their harbor, Elizabeth listened intently, staring at her brother with adoration.

At night, as they lay in the old cabin together with Yan-Tao sleeping in the bassinet beside them, Joseph told her stories of how he and Marcus had been best friends growing up in Indiana and how Elizabeth had followed them everywhere until, eventually, Marcus had asked her to marry him and they’d moved out west to Tacoma. Their letters home had convinced Joseph to make the move himself, though a chance stop in the islands convinced him this was where he wanted to settle rather than in the bustling mill town farther south.

She closed her eyes as she listened to him talk. She was so tired her head pounded from forcing herself to stay awake all evening serving dinner, then dessert, then listening to Elizabeth play the mandolin she’d brought with her. Her body ached.

Her heart ached.

She’d watched Joseph with his sister and brother-in-law and saw him smile, laugh, tell jokes, and tease his friend. She saw a side of Joseph she had not known existed, and she realized this was a part of himself he’d given up by marrying her. If he’d chosen a white bride, he would have friends and family gathered around him all the time making him laugh. Instead, his days were quiet and lonely with only her, and now their son, for company.

He deserved more.

If only she could release him from their marriage, but she knew with the certainty of one who has loved and lost that she could never let him go. She needed him more now than he’d ever need her, no matter how he might deny that. She was selfish to keep him for herself instead of setting him free to find another wife, another life. But being selfish was better than being alone.

She reached her hand under the covers until she found his hand lying at his side. She twined her fingers through his and squeezed, feeling her heart slow to a steady rhythm again as he squeezed back and she knew he was there beside her, keeping her safe.

With his quiet, strong voice still filling the tiny cabin with his stories, she fell asleep.

• • •

Mei Lien smiled even before she opened her eyes Monday morning. Today was the day Marcus and Elizabeth would go home to Tacoma and she, Joseph, and Yan-Tao would be able to settle back into their quiet life, just the way she liked it.