The Girl Who Wrote in Silk (27 page)

“Then we have an agreement.”

She stuck out her hand as she’d seen her father and Joseph do on numerous occasions when completing a business deal. Campbell looked at it with eyebrows raised then smirked and turned away. “I’ll ride over as soon as I collect the funds.” Then he disappeared into the shadowed cabin, dismissing them as surely as if they’d never been there at all.

Mei Lien gave Yan-Tao’s hand a squeeze. “Time to go.”

Together they started the long walk home, each step painful and exhausting but necessary.

In five days, she’d have the money Yan-Tao would need to start his new life. In her mind, she checked off the first step of her plan. Now it was time to concentrate on step two.

Friday, November 9, 1894

McElroy Farm, Orcas Island

Mei Lien heard her sister-in-law’s arrival long before she saw Elizabeth herself—Yan-Tao’s excited shout, the dog’s barking, Elizabeth’s complaining.

She’d taken to lying on the sitting room sofa, sleeping when the pain allowed and helping Yan-Tao with chores, also when the pain allowed, which wasn’t often. All other moments of the day and night were filled with embroidery. Pain or no pain, strength or no strength, she had to finish the embroidery. The previous night, long after Yan-Tao had fallen asleep, she’d attached the final sleeve to the robe. It still needed some work, but she knew she could wait no longer.

She was fading fast. Her body was eating itself away from the inside out. She knew this but didn’t let herself dwell on it. Nor did she let herself dwell on saying good-bye to her son. She did what she could to prolong her moments with Yan-Tao, but with Elizabeth’s arrival, there was no prolonging what had to be done.

“Mama is inside lying down,” she heard Yan-Tao tell their guest from out in the yard. “She’s sick.” The last was said with such sorrow, it forced Mei Lien to rub at the ache it caused in her chest.

“Where’s your father, then? I expected him at the steamer landing.” Elizabeth’s critical voice grew louder, alerting Mei Lien that they were coming onto the porch and would soon be inside. She pushed herself up on shaking arms and ran her bony fingers through hair that hung limply over her shoulders.

She should have bathed before Elizabeth’s arrival.

“You don’t know about Father?” Yan-Tao asked as he pushed the door open and walked inside ahead of his aunt. “Father is—”

“Yan-Tao,” Mei Lien interrupted. “Go make us some tea and bring those cookies you…we made.” She was embarrassed to admit to Elizabeth that her seven-year-old son was doing all the cooking and baking.

“Goodness gracious, May, don’t you look a sight.” Elizabeth remained standing by the closed door, her coat and gloves in place as she took in Mei Lien and the room with a curl to her lip. “And what’s that awful smell?”

“Smell?” She hadn’t noticed a smell.

Elizabeth shook her head and rolled her eyes as if to say Mei Lien was an imbecile. Then she bustled to the window and threw it open, allowing the cold November wind to bite down on Mei Lien’s tender body.

Instead of giving in to the complaint that jumped to her lips, Mei Lien drew the blanket she’d kicked off earlier around her shoulders. “Thank you for coming.”

Elizabeth gave her a pinched look as she settled herself on the edge of a chair across the room from Mei Lien. “Your telegram said it was urgent, though I can’t imagine what is urgent enough to make me leave my girls in the care of our housekeeper and travel in this godforsaken weather.”

Mei Lien started to roll her eyes but stopped herself just in time. Elizabeth’s girls were seventeen years old and plenty capable of caring for themselves and their father for a few days. Elizabeth herself had stated in her last letter that one of them, Priscilla if she remembered correctly, would soon be getting married.

She swallowed down the burning feeling that constantly tried to creep up her throat. “I need your help, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth’s already-arched eyebrows shot so high they disappeared under the brim of her black hat. “I can see that. Where is Joseph?”

Mei Lien had to look away to gather enough strength for what was required of her. That first month after Joseph’s death had been such a blur she hadn’t thought to notify Elizabeth. And then, when she’d realized how her own time was limited, she’d known the information might be best used to aid her in her plan for Yan-Tao.

If Elizabeth had already known her brother was dead, she wouldn’t have come.

“I’m so sorry to tell you this,” she began, using all her strength to keep upright, for the next few minutes were the most important of her life. “Joseph is dead. Lost in the strait during a storm last month.”

Elizabeth’s hands covered her mouth and she shook her head in denial, her eyes opened wide.

“I would have notified you sooner, but we were in such grief and…” She let her words drift away, knowing none were adequate.

“Here is your tea, Mama,” Yan-Tao announced, carrying a tray to the small table he pulled close to Mei Lien’s station on the sofa. Without her asking him to, he poured a cup and set it within her reach. Then he turned to his aunt. “How do you like your tea, Auntie Elizabeth?”

She didn’t seem to hear him, so Yan-Tao repeated the question. Elizabeth blinked several times, then lowered her shaking hands to her lap. “Cream and sugar. Thank you, Kenneth.”

Yan-Tao nodded, used to his aunt calling him by his white name. He stirred what was probably the last of their sugar into her tea and added milk that he’d taken from the cow just this morning. Mei Lien smiled at her son, letting him know without words that she was proud of him. If not for his great efforts, they’d have no milk. Or tea. Or anything to eat for that matter.

After he finished serving his aunt, Mei Lien held out her hand to him, and when he took it, she closed her eyes, reveling in that simple connection. “Thank you, Yan-Tao. Now go see to your chores outside while Elizabeth and I talk.”

His small hand trembled in hers, telling her he knew exactly what they had to discuss. To his credit, he simply nodded and excused himself to go outside. As Mei Lien watched him go, she felt the words to call him back clamoring inside her throat, but she kept silent.

After he disappeared, she turned her attention to her tea, using all her strength to keep the cup from clattering against the saucer as she lifted it and brought it to her lips. Over the rim of her teacup, she saw Elizabeth watching her. In her eyes were the questions Mei Lien expected. It was time.

Shaking, she set the tea back down with only a small amount spilled over the rim. “Elizabeth, I asked you to come here not only to tell you about your brother, but to tell you that I am dying.”

Elizabeth nodded as though she’d known that fact all along. That was when Mei Lien realized how awful her appearance must be. She brushed a wrinkle out of her skirt and got to the point. “As Yan-Tao’s only living relation, I’d like you to take him with you when you leave here.”

Elizabeth’s cup clattered into the saucer as she set it down on the side table. “You what?”

“I need you to take Yan-Tao, give him a home until he is grown.”

“I can’t do that!” Elizabeth jumped to her feet and paced to the window, which she slammed shut, then spun to face Mei Lien, her hands wringing at her waist. “I’m sorry, May, but you know my husband would never allow him in our home.”

“He is your brother’s child, Elizabeth,” she reminded her, trying very hard but not succeeding in keeping anger out of her voice.

“No, this is not the solution.” Elizabeth went on as though Mei Lien had not spoken. She paced the room, her head down. “There has to be another way.”

“Yan-Tao is a hard worker. He’ll be a big help with chores or at your husband’s shipyard. He’ll earn his keep. Plus, I have a purse I’ll give you for his care.”

At this Elizabeth’s head shot up. “How large a purse?”

“Five hundred dollars,” she answered, subtracting the cost of the telegram and few groceries they’d purchased in town, along with the amount she planned to put directly into Yan-Tao’s pocket. “I sold the farm to the neighbor.”

Mei Lien could not stop the way her body tensed up at the thought of Campbell and the way he’d knocked on her door precisely five days after their agreement. Without a word, and with his typical arrogance, he’d handed her the cash and a roll of papers. One glance at the papers had confirmed what she’d feared—he wanted her to sign her name transferring ownership to him. She’d allowed him to see her illness that day and managed to get him to leave without signing anything. She didn’t know if it would work, but she hoped not signing any documents would make the sale legally questionable should Yan-Tao wish to return someday and reclaim the property. Her tactic was underhanded, she knew, but she didn’t care. She was doing what little she could to secure a future for her son.

“I admit the money would help,” Elizabeth said as she dropped back into her chair, her gloved hands still wringing. “But I don’t think Kenneth would be happy with us. He’s…he’s not like us.”

Anger welled inside of Mei Lien so hot she had to throw off the blanket.

No
, she told herself, catching her temper just in time.
I
cannot
spoil
this. This is Yan-Tao’s only chance.

Pain stabbed through her belly so intensely she curled into a ball on the sofa. Ignoring the horrified expression on Elizabeth’s face, Mei Lien continued her argument with a level voice for her son’s sake. “All I ask is that you keep him safe, fed, and clothed until he comes of age. Please, Elizabeth. For Joseph.”

At her brother’s name and the reminder of his death, Elizabeth wilted into her chair. Gone was the starched back, thrown back shoulders, raised nose. For the first time, Mei Lien saw a side of Elizabeth that proved she was more than an uptight, judgmental bigot. She was a sister who’d lost her brother and she was hurting.

“I want you to go through Joseph’s things,” she told her as Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from her skirt pocket. “Take anything you want.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth sniffed as she got to her feet with her face still hidden behind her handkerchief. “I’d like to be alone. Where am I to sleep?”

“In my and Joseph’s room. I can’t manage the stairs any longer.”

Elizabeth nodded and started to turn away. Mei Lien spoke quickly before she could go. “What about Yan-Tao? Will you take him?”

Elizabeth dropped her hand from her reddened face and Mei Lien saw there were new lines of grief etched around her mouth. “Oh, May…” She sighed loudly and wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Let me think about it.”

Mei Lien watched her disappear into the kitchen and listened as she trudged up the stairs, all the while clasping her trembling hands to keep them from throwing something at the wall. Elizabeth sounded like she was going to refuse and, in doing so, she would be ensuring Yan-Tao’s death. Once Mei Lien was gone, he’d have no one. He’d have no home.

She knew what Campbell would do if he found Yan-Tao living here past their agreed upon date.

Suddenly, she felt like her skin was being peeled from her body. She grabbed a pillow and held it to her chest, curling her body around it. The pain wouldn’t ease.

Very much aware that Elizabeth was right overhead, Mei Lien buried her face in the pillow and moaned.

Joseph’s sister had been her only plan for Yan-Tao. She had nowhere else to send him, no one to watch over him.

The tea curdled in her stomach and shot upward. Throwing off the pillow, she fell to her knees on the floor beside the couch, her head hanging over the ever-present bucket, and threw up until there was nothing left.

Too exhausted to care what Elizabeth would think when she came downstairs, Mei Lien curled up on the floor.

She fell asleep searching her mind for a way to save Yan-Tao’s future, his very life.

• • •

“May, drink this. It will help.”

She felt a cup at her mouth and liquid dribble down her chin. The voice kept talking to her, pulling her out of the dream she was having of riding with Joseph in his rowboat. He was telling her something important, but that irritating voice kept distracting her.

“May, you need to wake up. Wake up!”

She moaned in protest, but the owner of the voice slapped her cheeks, causing a spurt of tears to fill her eyes. She blinked them open.

Elizabeth was propping her up with one arm around her shoulders. She was lying on the sofa again, her blanket tucked around her. Black filled the window above the sofa, telling her it was nighttime now. She’d slept the day away. She’d wasted time better spent working on the embroidery, or holding Yan-Tao’s little body before she could hold him no more.

“Yan-Tao?” She struggled to sit up all the way.

“He’s asleep. It’s the middle of the night.” Elizabeth reached for something on the table and returned with a cup of water. “Here, drink this. You were coughing in your sleep. You need water.”

Mei Lien sipped as the cup touched her lips. When the water hit her sensitive stomach, she choked and turned her head away. “No more.”

Elizabeth set the cup down then settled Mei Lien back onto her pillow. “You are quite ill, aren’t you?”

“Just as I told you.”

Elizabeth’s lips pursed in displeasure, but Mei Lien did not regret the censure in her voice. Her sister-in-law had already refused to keep her son safe. There was no need to remain civil any longer.

“Go to bed. I don’t need you as nursemaid.”

Elizabeth pulled her shoulders back then marched into the kitchen. Mei Lien heard her in there clattering dishes and pots but she ignored her. She had a more important matter to attend to.

Moving slowly because quick motions drained her, Mei Lien shifted to sit at the end of the sofa where her embroidery frame waited with the robe draped over it. Carefully she eased the protective cloth back to reveal the silk and the patterns she’d carefully sewn onto it these last seven years.

She grasped her needle between her thumb and finger and was about to pierce the fabric and continue with her pattern when another section caught her attention. Gently, she set the needle down and shifted the robe for a better look. On the body of the robe, just inches from the sleeve where she currently worked, was the section where she’d embroidered her life with Joseph.

For the first time she looked at the piece as if looking at the work of another woman. The background was the blue of the silk she worked on, but embroidered onto it were so many colors and patterns the blue was not visible across much of the cloth.

Grandmother would never recognize the hand that had created this. When they’d last worked together, Mei Lien was making perfect small, even stitches as she’d been taught. But, at some point over the years, she had strayed from her training and stitched without discipline. Here, where she’d depicted the house, the stitches were small, tight and even as they should be, which helped her see the grain of the wood on the porch post. But over here, where the forest behind the house grew, her stitches had abandoned convention. Next to a small, straight stitch, was a longer one double its length and shooting off at an angle. The stitches looked loose, jumbled, out of control. Disrespectful.