The Girl Who Wrote in Silk (21 page)

Joseph was already up and dressed and was lifting Yan-Tao from the bassinet. His mewling cries told them he was ready to be fed, and he was fully aware his father could not satisfy that need.

Mei Lien propped herself up against the bed pillows and reached out her arms. “Here, I’ll take him.” She took the baby and settled him against her breast. “What time is the steamer?”

Joseph leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead, filling her senses with the smell of freshly washed male and wood smoke. She closed her eyes, savoring him.

“The schedule says eleven, though you know as well as I do it’ll be later than that.”

“Yes, but you’ll have your sister there by eleven anyway, won’t you?”

Joseph grinned at her as he straightened from the bed. “They won’t miss today’s boat. Don’t worry.” He turned away and had taken two steps toward the other room when he stopped and turned back. “May?”

She let her eyes travel over his lean form and, for the first time in weeks, wondered when she’d feel ready to be intimate with him again, hoping it was soon, though the ache between her legs told her it would be many days still. “Yes?”

He dipped his head. “I know these past few days have been rough on you. Thank you for, well, for everything.”

Her heart rolled over and she smiled. “You’re welcome.”

He grinned again. “See you up at the house,” he said with a wink. Then he was gone.

Mei Lien finished feeding Yan-Tao, then got them both dressed. She took a few minutes to straighten up the cabin, stripping the bed of linens and piling them by the door to wash later after everyone was gone. She piled their toiletry items in the washbasin and set this next to the pile of linens to carry back to the house later.

When everything was ready, she gathered Yan-Tao into her arms and headed toward the main house, realizing only then that she hadn’t been to visit her ancestors’ spirits at the water since the day Yan-Tao was born. Maybe if she finished her chores quickly enough, she could leave Yan-Tao with Joseph while she went to the water. Or maybe she should take him with her to introduce him to their ancestors.

He would need to learn about them, about where he came from. She must not let their Chinese ancestry become lost in the white world they now lived in.

As she walked, she remembered the silks Joseph had given her that were tucked away in her sewing chest. They would make a handsome jacket for her son.

And then a different idea came to her and she caught her breath at its perfection. Not a jacket, but a ceremonial robe like the ones her grandmother had told her were worn by officials in China. She could embroider images on it depicting their ancestry and family history. This embroidered robe would be Yan-Tao’s link to his people, his past. He would wear it at his wedding, and on that day she would stand beside him, proud of the honorable young man he’d become.

She smiled. She’d begin work on the robe tonight, now that her evenings would be free again. Her steps quickened.

When she reached the house, she knew immediately that something was wrong. An unfamiliar mare stood hitched out front, and she heard loud voices coming from inside.

She went in through the kitchen and followed the voices to the sitting room, where she found Joseph, Marcus, Elizabeth, and a man she didn’t know. Conversation ceased the moment she entered, and all eyes turned toward her.

Despite the already heavy heat, the stranger wore a full suit, vest, tie, and shirt and held a wide-brimmed hat balanced between his hands. Even the mustache on his lip looked heavy and hot as it hung over his mouth. He eyed her suspiciously.

Joseph jumped to his feet and crossed the room in three quick strides. He wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders. “Mr. Izett, this is my
wife
, May McElroy,” he said. To Mei Lien he said, “May, this is Mr. Izett. He’s an immigration inspector from Roche Harbor. Says someone reported a smuggled Chinese woman living on my farm with forged papers.”

Mei Lien felt a shudder move through her. Joseph told her Chinese people had been smuggled into the United States ever since the passing of the Chinese Exclusion Act, but she’d never once considered she’d be marked as one of them. “How… Who…who would do such a thing?” she stammered.

Joseph squeezed her shoulders. “Mr. Izett, as I was telling you before my wife arrived, she and I were legally wed in Port Townsend by Captain Barnes. I have the necessary paperwork upstairs. Before I met her, she was a lawful citizen of Seattle along with her father, a merchant.”

“I was born in Seattle.”

Izett’s emotionless eyes pinned Mei Lien. “Do you have proof of this?”

Mei Lien did not know how to answer. If she gave this man her father’s name, would he know she was supposed to be on the steamer reported to have arrived safely in San Francisco, though she knew otherwise? Was this man a friend of Campbell? Had he somehow learned she was on the boat that night and so sent Mr. Izett here to tie up loose ends?

“As I said, I have our marriage license and certificate upstairs. What kind of proof do you require of her origins in Seattle?”

The man pushed his hefty frame to his feet. “Where is your father now, Mrs. McElroy?”

Mei Lien’s arms tightened around Yan-Tao as she looked at Joseph, hoping he would know how to answer. Joseph’s face was red and the muscles in his jaw twitched as he stared at the man. “Do you really want to know where her father is, Mr. Izett?” he growled.

Mei Lien knew she could not let Joseph say a word about the steamship that night. To do so would open her up to further danger, and now with Yan-Tao to think of, she had to be careful.

“He returned to China,” she said quickly, before Joseph could continue. “Two years ago. When tensions between my people and yours were increasing. I was to go with him, but when our ship docked for supplies in Port Townsend, I found a family who hired me as a cook, and I stayed. Father was old and frail. He wanted to see his homeland before it was too late.”

At her lie she felt Joseph stiffen beside her. She carefully kept her gaze averted from his. “I received one letter from him after he arrived in China,” she went on. “I have not heard from him since.”

“This family in Port Townsend can attest to the accuracy of your story?” Mr. Izett asked, his mustache wobbling over his mouth.

“Of course,” Joseph said now, his voice gruff.

Just then, Elizabeth stood up. “Come now, Mr. Izett. My brother is an honest man who would never stoop so low as to marry an illegal Oriental.”

Mei Lien wasn’t sure what Elizabeth intended since Mei Lien fit half of the description. Still, she was grateful Elizabeth was trying to help.

“Do you really need my brother to dig up the paperwork you know will prove his innocence? Because if so, you’re going to make us miss our steamer, in which case I will be sorely irritated.”

To Mei Lien’s surprise, Mr. Izett blanched at Elizabeth’s words. He fiddled with his hat for several long moments before he finally spoke. “I suppose it’s not necessary, seeing as how you seem like good people.” He cleared his throat. “My informant must have been mistaken.”

“Yes, he was.” Joseph squeezed Mei Lien’s shoulders one last time before gently releasing her with a nudge toward the kitchen and, she knew, out of Mr. Izett’s sight.

She happily complied, going into the kitchen where she sat down on one of the kitchen chairs because her legs would no longer support her. In the sitting room she heard Joseph tell Mr. Izett he’d walk him out.

As the front door closed behind them, Elizabeth bustled into the kitchen, shaking her head. “Goodness me, it’s sorry I am that Joseph has to put up with people like that.”

Which he wouldn’t have to do, Mei Lien knew, if not for her. She dropped her chin to hide the tears that welled in her eyes, hoping Elizabeth thought she was only tending to Yan-Tao.

Surprising her, Elizabeth snatched a baking sheet from the shelf over the stove and slapped it onto the counter. “Where do you keep the saleratus? I’m making biscuits.”

Instead of answering, Mei Lien swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she managed.

Elizabeth stopped her bustling and faced Mei Lien squarely. After a long, awkward moment, she finally said, “I don’t know why, but Joseph loves you. I didn’t want to see him hurt.” She started to turn away but then paused. “Are you illegal?”

“No.”

Elizabeth nodded, then went on preparing the morning meal without comment.

Mei Lien knew she and this woman would never be friends, but they both loved Joseph, and that, she decided, was enough.

Tuesday, July 17—present day

Rothesay Estate, Orcas Island

Inara flipped the switch, cutting power to the trimmer she was using on the hedges along the back patio. With her arm she wiped sweat from her forehead and stepped back to survey her work.

Right on time, mid-July, summer had finally arrived in western Washington. The rain from last week was forgotten now as flowers and grass both seemed to grow five inches overnight. The red bark of the madrona trees was peeling in earnest. A bright blue, cloudless sky reflected on the glass-like surface of East Sound, broken only by the occasional kayaker or seagull. Since the town of Eastsound no longer had a dock on its southern shoreline, the water traffic past her property was minimal. She liked it that way.

On Friday evening Inara had taken Daniel to the water to show him the beach, and she’d gone back every night since. She always felt the stresses of the day fall away as she stepped into the cool breeze and breathed in the ripe, earthy smells of the sea. Yesterday she’d discovered a bald eagle had nested in the top of a nearby tree and figured it must have babies up there, considering all the trips it made back and forth with a fish or other prey gripped in its talons. Maybe one day soon she’d get to see the babies.

Sweat soaked her shirt and trickled down her spine, making her yearn for the cool beach, but she couldn’t go yet. She had too much work left to do.

Sure, she could have hired professionals to do the landscaping, leaving her days free to research the murders or order light fixtures, but a landscaping crew would have required thousands of dollars she didn’t have. She was determined to convince her father the hotel was a sound investment she could handle, and considering that money was his biggest concern, she would do it as responsibly as she could. That meant making cuts to her plan. Besides, she knew a lot about yard work from her many summers helping Aunt Dahlia, so it was the most logical task for her to take on.

Satisfied the hedge looked straight and groomed, she headed toward the kitchen garden nestled in the notch between the main house and the side of her house. It was the view she looked upon every morning as she drank her tea on the back step, and today she’d start making it worth looking at. Plus, she strongly suspected she’d find some hearty veggies among the overgrown vines and weeds. Veggies that could save her money on groceries and eating out.

She set the trimmer on the grass and headed toward the garage on the other arm of the U-shaped manor to collect a wheelbarrow, shovel, and clippers. Halfway there, she spotted Tom on the porch and altered her course.

“Hey, Tom!” She waved to the contractor to get his attention.

He switched off the electric sander he was using on the porch boards and came over to lean on the railing.

“Hey, yourself. I’m gonna get my guys on to painting this wood while the weather holds. You sure you don’t want me to sand down the whole thing?” He motioned to the length of the porch behind him.

They’d had to redo the section because of rot found during the inspection, but the rest of the porch was structurally sound and could last another couple years, at least. “No. The dents and grooves give it character. Just tell your guys to give it all a fresh coat of paint and it’ll be perfect.” She looked pointedly at the sander and sought the words she wanted to say. “Thanks for…for doing that.”

When she’d returned from Seattle the previous week, she’d sat down with Tom and explained the agreement she’d made with her father and how important it was to be as frugal as possible. They’d cut costs where they could and identified tasks that Inara could do herself, like the landscaping. Tom must have decided to take on some of the labor he wouldn’t normally do.

Tears stung her eyes. She knew he believed in her ability to succeed here, unlike her father, and he was helping her as a neighbor. He made her feel welcome in the small community.

Tom shrugged in his sweat-stained T-shirt. “No big deal. Oh, hey, I almost forgot. Sophie wanted me to ask you to come over for dinner tonight. You free?”

Inara smiled. “Sure. Thanks.”

Though she acted casual as she waved to Tom and turned to head to the garage, she felt anything but. In Seattle she knew her neighbors, but they all pretty much kept to themselves. Orcas Island was different. Neighbors invited her for dinner; islanders chatted with her at the grocery store or post office and waved to her on the road. Her roots were sinking deeper into the island.

As she pulled open the garage doors to gather her tools, the musty scent of stale, moldy air hit her, reminding Inara just how old the estate was. But before Rothesay was built, this piece of land had been Mei Lien’s yard, or maybe where her barn had stood.

Had Mei Lien felt like she belonged on the island? Did her neighbors invite her to dinner? Not likely.

The thought saddened Inara, and she made a mental note to ask Daniel when he called that night about what Mei Lien’s life had probably been like. She’d been trying to learn what she could on her own about that time period and had borrowed some books from the history museum in town. In one of them she’d read about a group of islanders who called themselves the Orcas Island Anti-Chinese Association and whose sole purpose was to protect themselves from “the incursion of a race alien to us in every thing.” About the time the Chinese were being driven out of Tacoma and Seattle, this group drove them off Orcas Island. Mei Lien might have been the first Chinese person to arrive on the island after that. If she was, was her Caucasian husband the only thing that kept the other islanders from forcing her off the island too?

It couldn’t have been easy for Mei Lien and was probably very lonely. No wonder she had found time to embroider the sleeve so intricately.

Inara grabbed the tools she needed and returned to the garden, her mind heavy.

She was on her hands and knees in the dirt, chopping the soil around a two-foot-tall sticker weed to get to its roots, when her cell phone rang.

“Daniel! Are classes over already?” He taught all day on Tuesdays so she hadn’t expected to hear from him until evening.

“Between classes actually, but I couldn’t wait to call you.”

Something in his voice pulled her focus away from the garden. “What’s wrong?”

“We found Chinese bodies. In 1886 newspapers. Just like on the sleeve.”

Pressure burned behind her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“All those bodies floating in the water next to the ship. I couldn’t get them out of my mind so I looked again at newspapers from that time. Three Chinese bodies were found washed ashore within a week of each other soon after the Chinese were driven out of Seattle. One outside Port Townsend, two on Whidbey Island. I’m starting to think something pretty tragic happened.”

Inara closed her eyes. Of course bodies had been found. She was surprised there hadn’t been more than three. But then again, the currents were strong in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, especially in February, and plenty of animals in the water and on shore could have disposed of those that weren’t washed out to sea.

“And that’s not all,” Daniel went on. “The shipping company records from that time period seem to be conveniently missing.”

Her eyes flew open. “You went to the shipping company?”

“No, one of my research assistants did. She had a hard time tracking it down. I guess the company’s name has changed or something. She figured it out and was allowed access to the archives, but she says the file was missing and they don’t keep digital records going back that far.”

Inara swallowed. Of course they hadn’t found the file. It was sitting on her kitchen table. Daniel may have left the shipping company angle to his assistant and hadn’t yet realized it was her family’s company, but it was just a matter of time until he found out. She had to tell him.

“Um, Daniel?”

He’d already launched into the story told in one of the newspaper articles but stopped at her interruption. “Yeah?”

She had to do it. If she didn’t, it would blow up in her face later. “The shipping company? It’s my family’s. Campbell Lines became Premier Maritime Group.”

“Oh.” He was silent a long moment. “You didn’t think to tell me before now?”

She swallowed and gripped her phone tighter. “I should have as soon as I figured out the connection, but I forgot. Plus, I didn’t think it was significant.” She paused. “Why don’t I look into it for you? I can talk to my dad and see if he knows of an accident back then.”

“Okay. That’d be great. I’ll stay focused on what happened to the McElroys. It’s like they just vanished.”

“What do you mean?”

“My team’s been reading old diaries and newspapers. They’ve found occasional mentions of Joseph McElroy and his Chinese wife and son, usually written with scorn or outright derision. What’s funny, though, is that we can’t seem to find the McElroys, any of them, after 1894. We’ve checked ship and rail passenger lists, census records for all of Washington, Oregon, California, and British Columbia, everything.”

Nothing since 1894. Her family moved into this house in January 1895. A thought irritated the back of her mind but wouldn’t fully form. “What can I do to help the research?”

“Nothing. I’ve got a lot of help here at the university, and you’ve got your hands full with the hotel. I just wanted to tell you what we found.”

It was all she could do to hold herself together until the call ended.

Even though he was going to focus on where the McElroys went, Daniel knew people had died. It was only a matter of time before he discovered that everyone on board was killed and her ancestor was responsible. And then what would she do?

The niggling feeling in her mind persisted. Something about Duncan Campbell moving into this house in 1895.

She’d always known the Campbell property on the island had originally been much smaller than it was today. Duncan had moved in the early 1880s from Scotland to Orcas Island, where he’d built a small cabin and a vegetable garden. He’d left his elderly father and young wife to care for it while he started and grew his business in Seattle. He saw his family very little during those first few years while he got his business off the ground, but the arrangement seemed to work for everyone involved.

The original property was still part of the Rothesay estate and lay to the south, through the forest and out of sight behind a small rise.

She decided it was time to take a walk.

Wiping dirt off her jeans, Inara headed back around the house, across the driveway, and onto the forest path. When the path curved toward the beach, she stepped into the brush and continued south, wondering why she and her siblings had never ventured over the hill when they were kids running wild through the forest.

It didn’t take long, no more than ten minutes of brisk walking, before she crested the hill and came to a clearing where she saw what looked to be the stone foundation to a long-ago demolished building. This had to have been Duncan Campbell’s original cabin, she decided.

It was small. Smaller than the cabin near Rothesay where Joseph and Mei Lien had lived before building the house that became Dahlia’s. She stood with her back to the cabin and looked around.

The whole property sloped toward a sheer rock drop-off about one hundred feet away. No easy access to the water was visible. To her left, between the ridge she stood on and Mount Constitution, lay a small valley where an ancient fruit orchard was being reclaimed by forest. The orchard had southern exposure, which meant it must have had good sunlight, though it was small.

The rest of the clearing was devoid of trees and probably used to grow the family’s food, though now it was overrun with native growth that would be forest again in another couple hundred years.

Duncan Campbell’s original piece of property had sucked, Inara decided as she kicked at a rock. It was rocky, on the side of a mountain, and with difficult access to the water, not an easy homestead to get to or from. No wonder Duncan had jumped at the chance to move when the McElroy property became available.

Or maybe he’d had a hand in making it come available.

Inara started back toward home, pondering how she might find out more. Just as she stepped back onto the forest path, she remembered Tom’s friend in Friday Harbor who worked for the county. She’d bet Kira could find more specifics from the time the property had changed hands.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her call history until she found the right number, then waited for it to connect. When Kira came on the line, Inara explained what she needed, then disconnected. Now she had to wait.

Putting her nervous energy to good use, Inara went back to work on the weeds in Dahlia’s garden, wondering again how anyone had managed to grow anything in that rocky plot south of here.

She had half the garden cleared of weeds by the time Kira called back.

“I thought I gave you the tax records a few weeks ago, but I guess not,” Kira said without preamble. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Inara told her. “What did you find?”

“Well, I couldn’t find any records of a transfer of deed from Joseph McElroy to Duncan Campbell in 1894 or 1895, but that could just be because the records were lost or misplaced. I can keep looking if you want. I did find an official deed of title for Duncan Campbell in 1896. He paid taxes on the property starting in 1895.”

Inara wasn’t surprised that no legal transfer of deed could be found. And no doubt Duncan had paid someone off to file the paperwork later. “I appreciate this, Kira. Next time I’m in Friday Harbor, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee or something.”

Kira laughed. “Thanks. I’d like that, but it’s not necessary.”

Inara remembered the other question she’d asked Kira. “Did you find anything on the McElroy family after 1894?”

“No. They must have moved out of the county after selling to Campbell.”

“I see. Thanks again, Kira.”

Inara ended the call but stayed where she was, on her butt in the dirt. Motion caught her eye, and she saw the eagle fly overhead toward her nest. She was too high for Inara to see if she was carrying food to her babies.