The Girl Who Wrote in Silk (32 page)

Inara laughed as she scooted up to lean against the headboard next to her sister. “What are you two doing here anyway?”

Her siblings looked at each other before Nate carefully said, “I tried calling you but you didn’t answer. I thought we should meet here and start making decisions on what we’re going to do with all of Dad’s stuff, and the house too.”

“Did he leave it to the three of us?”

Nate nodded.

Inara wasn’t ready to think about any of that yet so she was relieved when Olivia changed the subject. “Did I hear you two saying someone murdered someone?”

Reminded, Nate scowled at Inara. “She thought Duncan Campbell killed the Chinese woman who made the sleeve she found. Why would you think that?”

Inara hugged her knees. “In researching the sleeve, I learned something that Dad wanted me to keep secret, something Duncan did. Mom had even known about it and didn’t tell anyone. Before he died Dad told me to tell you. I think he realized the truth needs to be told.”

When her siblings exchanged confused glances, she launched into the story, telling them everything she knew about the night Duncan ordered three hundred fifty people thrown overboard to their deaths. As she spoke, Olivia covered her mouth with her hands in horror. Nate shook his head in disbelief.

“I think we need to tell the truth, even after all this time,” she told them now. “Think about all those families who never knew what happened to their loved ones. And even though it might change how people remember Mom and Dad and all the Campbells before them, I still think it’s important that the world knows the truth of what happened.”

Thinking of Daniel she added, “We need to apologize.”

“I agree,” Nate said. Olivia nodded.

Inara caressed the journal cover. “I think the truth ate at Dad like it’s eaten at me. I think that’s why he wanted to give this to me. To say that he changed his mind about the secret.”

“I think you’re right,” Olivia said, reaching for her hand.

With a grateful smile for her sister, Inara squeezed her hand. “Believe it or not, there’s more to tell you.” She swallowed. “We found out that Mei Lien’s son was Daniel’s great-grandfather and I had to tell him the truth of what happened. Because I’d lied, we broke up. I’m not sure how his family feels about everything, but I’d like one of you to reach out to them and see if they’d help us tell the true story.”

“Of course,” Nate agreed. “That’s an excellent idea.”

Olivia had a strange look on her face as she looked at Inara.

“What?” Inara asked, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

Olivia shook her head as a smile spread her pink-glossed lips. “I’m so proud of you. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that before now, but I am.”

The unexpected compliment started off another spurt of tears but Inara smiled through them and hugged her sister. “Thanks, Liv. Does this mean you’ll help me?”

“Absolutely. And I think you’re right. Dad probably realized the truth had to be told.” She patted the diary on Inara’s lap as evidence. “But can we figure it out after the funeral?”

“Good idea.” Inara picked up the diary and hugged it to her chest to soothe the ache that started up there again at the mention of her father’s funeral. “Nate, are you okay with this? You’ll take the brunt of it all, being the new CEO of PMG and all.”

He ruffled her hair like he’d done when she was a kid. “I’ll manage.”

“Thanks, Nate.” She squeezed his hand then reached for Olivia’s. “You too, Liv.” Holding them, she breathed in her father’s scent again and wished he was here with them.

“I don’t know about you two, but I’m not feeling like making any decisions today after all.” Nate got to his feet. “I vote for dinner and a movie at my house. You in?”

“Excellent idea.” Inara headed for the door with her siblings.

Nate paused at the threshold and turned back to look at the bedroom. “Feels like he just stepped out, doesn’t it?”

In answer, Inara slid her hand into his and wordlessly switched off the light.

Wednesday, December 26, 1894

McElroy Farm, Orcas Island

With shaking hands, Mei Lien snipped the thread and fell weakly back against the sofa.

Finished.

Finally.

For forty-six days, since the morning Yan-Tao left, she’d done nothing but embroider. When she was hungry, she reached for the bowl of cold rice she kept next to the embroidery frame. When she was sick, she threw up in the bucket on the floor, not bothering to empty it for days at a time. When she was tired, she slept for as little as she could for there was more work to finish. When she was in pain, she worked through the pain.

She’d had to take to wearing gloves while she worked because her fingers had developed blisters from the constant rubbing of the needle and embroidery floss. Eventually the blisters had popped and bled and she hadn’t wanted to drip blood on the silk. She’d never had any other use for the white woman’s gloves Joseph had bought for her.

Her entire body ached. Her eyes burned. Her skull pounded. Nothing mattered but finishing the embroidery before it was too late.

And now she was finished. The scene lay before her with every last detail in place. It was the scene she’d started seven years before but had never felt was truly finished. Now, it was. The entire story was told, including the story of her death, which she could clearly see.

She sat still, moving only her eyes as she took in the embroidered scene. It was of the night that changed everything. The ship. Campbell. Father. Grandmother. Water—swirling, pulling, taunting. Beneath the waves was Mei Lien herself, floating on the current with arms and legs splayed, smiling.

The smile hadn’t been planned. She’d meant for the scene to portray all the horror and agony the night had inflicted upon her. She’d planned to embroider no facial features at all to show the loss of herself. But right at the end, just a few minutes ago, she’d added that smile and only now, after, did she know exactly why.

That night and all of its horror had given her Joseph and eventually Yan-Tao, which meant the story ended in happiness. But that was only half of it.

The other half was yet to come. She’d felt the call of the water all these years. She’d heard her ancestors calling for her in the waves and reaching for her in the currents. Finally, tonight, the water would get what it was cheated out of eight years ago. Tonight, it would get Mei Lien.

She smiled about that because the water was her destiny and there was no denying destiny. The water held Father, Grandmother, and Joseph, and in the water she would be with them again.

Carefully she cut the ties holding the silk to the frame and folded the finished sleeve into a tiny square. If only she could give this to Yan-Tao to go with the rest of his robe, but at least he had most of the story in his possession, and he would return one day for the rest.

Then, as gently as though she were swaddling a child, she wrapped the sleeve inside the shirt of Joseph’s that she’d kept aside for just this reason. There was nothing special about the shirt other than the fact that Joseph had worn it his last day on the farm. It’s what Mei Lien pictured him wearing when she thought of their last day together. She hoped Yan-Tao would remember it too when he came back to find the embroidery.

Finally, she got to her feet and limped into the kitchen where she found a piece of oilcloth to wrap around the bundle and kitchen twine to tie it all closed.

Before her strength failed, she made her way to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms and mostly fell onto the bottom step, so weak were her legs. Before her was the second step, its wood scuffed from years of use. A new scratch from Yan-Tao’s travel trunk scarred the middle. The nails holding the step to the supports below had loosened, or been pried loose, she wasn’t sure, and now sat at angles in their holes. She ran her hand over the nails but couldn’t bring herself to pull the board up.

She’d never opened this secret compartment. It belonged to Yan-Tao and held whatever a young boy considered his treasures. She had no idea if he’d taken anything from here before he left, or if she’d find everything he’d stashed away along with dreams and young-boy secrets. She didn’t know if she wanted to find treasures or emptiness; both would hurt.

She shook her head at herself. She didn’t have time to be sentimental.

With a hard yank she pulled the tread up, jiggling it until the nails pulled free and the entire board came loose in her hands. She set it on the step above and peered inside.

Dark, but not empty.

Placed carefully in the hole created by the first and second steps were pinecones, rocks, and twigs that must have held special importance to her son. On the floor, wedged under the first step was a faded green blanket he’d carried around as a toddler. Dirt and holes made it nearly unrecognizable, but she knew immediately what it was.

In the dancing light of the lantern flame, she spotted something hanging from a nail tacked into the side of the compartment. With her aching body protesting, she balanced her weight on one arm and leaned with the other into the hole to reach the thin rope and pull it free. Fresh tears stung her eyes as she saw what Yan-Tao had hung there.

Her father’s embroidered coin purse. The one he’d thrust into her hands on the steamship and told her to hide in her chest bindings. She’d forgotten all about it.

The lump growing in her throat burst free and she found herself sobbing. Yan-Tao should be here. Her young son should never have been forced to leave his mother so soon after losing his father. He should still be here, storing treasures in his secret compartment.

It wasn’t fair. Her whole adult life had been one cruelty after another and now that cruelty had scarred her innocent child.

She plunged her arm into the hole again, grabbing his forgotten blanket and balling it in her hands. Bringing it to her face, she sobbed into the soft cotton, her heart shattering at the pure torture of feeling near him one last time but it not being enough. A hint of his little boy scent lingered. She clung to the blanket, needing it more than life, and wept.

When nothing was left inside of her but a great emptiness, she wiped her tears with her skirt and remembered why she was here. To leave her son’s legacy where he could find it.

She picked up the bundle containing the embroidered sleeve, leaving Yan-Tao’s blanket in its place on her lap, and carefully wedged the bundle under the front step where the blanket had been. Then, bringing two trembling fingers to her lips, she kissed them and pressed them to the bundle, hoping Yan-Tao would feel her love the day he returned to find the package.

She moved to place Yan-Tao’s blanket next to the bundle, but hesitated. She couldn’t give it up. She’d given up so much already, surely this one token she could keep with her. Surely Yan-Tao would understand and forgive her.

Her mind made up, she stuffed the blanket into the bodice of her gown to keep it close to her heart. The blanket slipped down to her waist. Only now did she realize how her dress gaped from her body, how thin she’d become. Her ribs poked out like a street dog’s, her wrists looked thin as twigs and just as fragile. She knew if she looked in a mirror—which she would not do—she’d see a woman she didn’t recognize.

She was surprised to realize she wasn’t bothered by her wasting body. She would soon have no more need of it and the spirits who loved her and were waiting for her would recognize her soul without the trappings of skin, hair, and bones.

Reaching into her bodice, she pulled the blanket up and tied it around her neck. There, that was better anyway. It kept Yan-Tao even closer to her, where she could smell him. On top of this she hung Father’s coin purse around her neck. It too should return to the water where it belonged.

She lifted the stair tread back into place and carefully fitted the loose nails into their holes. Now she needed to secure it to keep it hidden and safe from Campbell and anyone else. She’d thought very carefully about this part of her plan for if Campbell found the compartment, he would destroy everything inside.

One more task.
You
can
do
it
, she told herself. She had to.

She found Joseph’s crate of tools right where she’d left it tucked next to her canning supplies behind the stove. It felt much heavier than she remembered from two months ago when she’d left it there, but she managed to push and pull it across the floor to the stairs. Sweat dripped off her but she refused to stop.

With strength she didn’t think she had, she hammered nails into the step, securing it tightly to the supports underneath while being careful not to make it appear different from the other steps. Then, for good measure, she added more nails to the bottom step too.

It was all she could do. It would have to be good enough.

“You’ve done good, May.”

Though it should have startled her, the sound of a voice in the room didn’t surprise her at all. It was like she’d been expecting him all along.

She turned, the hammer still in her hand, and found Joseph standing behind her. He smiled down at her with a look of such love she could not help but smile back through her tears. “I knew you’d come back for me.”

He reached his hand toward her. “I never left you.”

She reached up to grasp him. Just when she should have felt his touch, her hand went through his and she was reminded that Joseph was a spirit now.

Still smiling, she packed the tools back into the crate and tugged it back to its place behind the stove. “I’m almost ready, Joseph,” she told her husband’s spirit as she gave the crate one last push.

“Your mother is eager to see you,” came her father’s voice in reply.

Mei Lien jerked around and found Joseph’s spirit had gone and in his place stood her father, looking strong and healthy as she remembered him when they’d lived in Seattle. “Father! I missed you.” She limped toward him but stopped halfway, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hug him as she so badly wanted. “Are you well?”

His smile faded. “I wish things could have turned out better for you, my daughter.”

Mei Lien shook her head. “No, Father. It is as it should be.” She looked around the kitchen and realized she had no reason to linger. Her duties here were done. “I am ready to go now.”

When she looked back to where her father stood, he was gone again. “I’ll see you in the water,” she whispered to the empty room.

Carefully she went through the house, extinguishing the few lanterns she’d been using. Then, to any spirits that might reside here, she said, “Please keep my embroidery safe for Yan-Tao.”

In answer she felt a wave of peace wash over her and she knew her wish would be granted.

It was time. She slowly, painfully, made her way to the back door and outside to the dark yard. The moonless sky twinkled with thousands of stars but the forest around the house looked like a black void.

She didn’t hesitate. She knew where she was going and she knew nothing hiding in the dark would harm her. She had a purpose for being here. Her family was waiting.

At the water’s edge she stopped and listened. The waves lapped against the rocky beach. Something scurried about in the dried leaves of the forest behind her and an owl hooted from somewhere up the mountain. Otherwise there were no sounds. Not her father’s voice, not Joseph’s.

Still, she talked to them as she stepped fully clothed into the inky water. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” she whispered over and over as the cold wrapped around her limbs and pulled her in deeper. She could see her breath on the frigid air. “I’m coming.”

Her stomach revolted at the shocking cold, but she didn’t stop. Her limbs were shaking now and her teeth chattered as she spoke, but she knew it was only temporary.

As the water reached her neck and Yan-Tao’s blanket tied there, she finally saw them. Joseph. Father. Grandmother. Even her own mother. As though they’d always been there waiting for her, they surrounded her, filling her with warmth and light.

With one step more, the water closed over her head.