The Girl Who Wrote in Silk (5 page)

“Yes. What about it?”

“Remember how you liked the personal service we got from the staff and how they had wine and cheese every evening in the library?” She was trying hard to set the stage before springing her idea on him.

“Your mom loved that.” He sounded suspicious.

Time to jump in with both feet. “I want to do that with Rothesay. I want to turn it into a boutique hotel.”

He shook his head but didn’t say anything. The look on his face told her what was going through his mind. Before he could reject the idea, she kept talking.

“Liv and I went through the whole place, and it’s perfect. I even got a lead on a builder for the renovations. I have to talk with him first, of course, but I’m hoping to have the place ready for guests by next summer.”

The more she talked, the more excited she felt. “There’s something special about Rothesay, Dad. I love it there. I’d forgotten how much, but it felt like home. This could be an amazing opportunity, you know? The islands are becoming more and more popular as a vacation destination, and my hotel would give tourists a place to stay unlike anything else on the island. It’ll be a place where guests want to return every year. Even you’ll want to stay there.”

“What about your job?” He asked like she was a little girl who wanted to head to the mall with her friends instead of doing chores.

She swallowed and looked down at her lap. “I’m going to turn it down.”

His palms slapped his thighs so hard she jumped. “The hell you are! Do you know how many strings I pulled to get you that interview? You can’t just throw it away to play innkeeper on an island in the middle of nowhere!”

All the air in the room was suddenly sucked away. She’d been certain she’d gotten the job based on her own merit. “No,” she choked. “I didn’t know you pulled strings.”

He shot her an exasperated look. “I did what any father would have done, and you should be grateful for it.”

She stared at a scar on the leather seat as she calmed herself. She had to stay focused on the real issue here, she told herself. “I appreciate all you did for me, Dad. I really do. But I feel so alive at Rothesay. I’ve got so many ideas for renovations and am excited to run the hotel—”

“What do you know about hotel management? Nothing.”

“That’s not entirely true. I did that work-study at the Rome Cavalieri and loved it.”

“Two weeks does not provide work experience.”

Ouch.
She deliberately lowered her tone and changed her tactic. “I think Aunt Dahlia left the estate to me because she knew I belonged there and she knew I was the person to give it new life. I want to do this. Far more than I want to work with Starbucks coffee suppliers.”

He was silent for a long time. “How would you pay for it? Even without your student loan debt, you wouldn’t have the money.”

She closed her eyes and went in for the kill before she lost her nerve. “You, Dad. I want you to be my financial partner on this. Think about it. You know all about tourism with your cruise lines. A boutique hotel on Orcas Island would be the perfect investment for a man like you.”

“Inara.” He shook his head.

“Mom would have loved the idea. Rothesay was her family’s legacy, and it would break her heart if we sold it.” She held herself very still as she waited for his next words, knowing she might have pushed too far.

His shoulders slumped, and his gaze turned to the framed picture of his late wife above the mantel. Instead of acknowledging Inara’s claim about her, though, he stuck to business matters. “I can’t make such a risky investment right now, with the buyout and all. You know this.”

“Just a personal loan, then,” she said before he could say no. “A loan that covers renovations and personal expenses, all of which I’ll pay back with interest once we open.”

“And if it doesn’t work? If you never go in the black?”

“I still own the estate.” She hated what she was about to say. “Use it as collateral. If the hotel doesn’t work out, I’ll sell it to pay back your loan.”

His phone started ringing, and he quickly got to his feet and crossed to his desk to answer. “I’ve got to take this,” he told her. Inara listened as he put the caller on hold. Then he pressed his lips together and seemed to be considering. When he raised his gaze to her, she saw a spark in his eye.

“Can I help it that I want my daughter happy? Let’s iron out the details later, but I’ll give you the loan on the condition that you give me a full monthly accounting of every penny spent. Agreed?”

She dashed to him and threw her arms around him. “Thank you! You won’t regret this. I promise.”

He hugged her back with the arm not holding the phone. “I reserve the right to call in the loan at any time if I don’t like what’s happening. You’d have to sell the estate right away,” he warned. “Is that something you’re willing to risk?”

It wasn’t going to come to that, she decided. The Rothesay Hotel would be opening next summer; she was sure of it. “Yes. Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t thank me, yet, Nara-girl. Let’s see how your renovations go.”

Sunday, February 7, 1886—late afternoon

Seattle, Washington Territory

“Are you comfortable,
N
ă
inai
?” Mei Lien asked again, even though Grandmother had assured her over and over that she was well. They both knew the question was pointless. When they’d boarded the
Prince
of
the
Pacific
, they’d been told the steerage berths were full and all that remained were first-class berths on the upper deck. They were then ordered to pay twelve dollars each for their tickets, which, of course, they paid for fear of what the alternative might be. They would be arriving in China with little money to start their new life. But as Father had reminded her, at least they’d be alive and they’d have each other.

After settling into their cabin and tending to Father’s wounds, Mei Lien had stood at the open door, stopping any crew member who passed to ask for food. No one helped them. From the white-uniformed boys whose jobs seemed to be keeping everything clean and shining to the blue-uniformed officers barking orders, they all ignored her equally. Once the ship left the dock after four o’clock, well past the scheduled sailing time, she’d finally worked up the courage to venture belowdecks herself. She’d found a loaf of dry bread in the pantry, which she’d hidden under her jacket and taken to her family. Still, they were hungry.

“I’m fine,” Grandmother answered Mei Lien’s latest inquiry from where she sat propped against the cabin wall on the double bed. “Just tired. You should rest too.” She scooted down until she was lying beside Father, who was asleep. There was no bed for Mei Lien, which was just as well since she wasn’t interested in sleep.

She leaned over Father again, worried that he was sleeping so long. The skin around his eye and along the entire side of his face was swollen and purple. She’d tended his cuts as well as she could, but blood still seeped into the cloth wedged under his cheek. Though he hadn’t complained, the fact that he’d fallen asleep almost immediately after eating his bread proved to Mei Lien that his injuries were probably more severe than he’d allowed her to see.

Exhausted from worry and fear, she dropped onto the single chair and let her head fall back against the wall. She could feel the rumbling of the engines as the steamer chugged through Puget Sound, heading away from Seattle and her home. Through the single round window, she saw the last hint of light splashing red on the island they were passing. It was nearly nightfall, and she could not ignore the truth any longer. She’d never see her home again. They were going to China.

A low moan sounded from the bed. Mei Lien jumped up from the chair to lean over its two occupants. A quick glance confirmed Grandmother had fallen into a peaceful sleep, but Father’s battered head was jerking back and forth.

“Shh,
Bàba
, you are safe,” she murmured to him as she lay her hand on the uninjured side of his head, where the shaved area met the midnight-black queue that twisted under his back. Seeing him so hurt scared her. She wouldn’t know what to do if she lost him. All her life her two companions had been Father and Grandmother.

White children had been kept from playing with her by their mothers and nannies, and she’d rarely known slant-eyed children like herself. Most Chinese in Seattle were bachelors who’d come to work and send money home to China. Only a handful of Chinese families lived in Seattle—and none had children Mei Lien’s age. Grandmother had taught her everything she needed to know about Chinese culture and caring for the home and family. Working in Father’s store had taught her how to speak, read, and write in English, as well as all she knew about American culture. Her family was her whole life. She needed Father to be well.

He moaned in his sleep. She had to do something, anything, to ease his pain.

Then it came to her. She’d heard that all of the Chinese people in Seattle had been loaded onto the steamship. Jong Li had to be on board somewhere.

“
Bàba
, I’m getting you some help. I’ll return as fast as I can,” she whispered to him. Then she moved quickly to the door, slipping into the cold evening air intent on finding the herbalist who tended all of Seattle’s sick and injured Chinese. She’d find him, she decided, if she had to search every corner of the ship.

She started forward, past the wooden lifeboats covered in canvas, toward the stairs she’d used earlier when she’d gone in search of food. But before she reached the stairwell, a door opened several yards in front of her and two uniformed stewards emerged. An idea came to her, one that might be better than searching for Jong Li.

The young men seemed to be deep in discussion and did not notice her, but remembering she appeared to be a boy and could do such things, Mei Lien stepped right into their path, forcing them to stop and notice.

“Please, sirs,” she begged in her best English with appropriately downcast eyes. “My father is injured and needs assistance. Is there a doctor on this ship?” She peeked up to see their reaction.

Neither man seemed moved by her plea. The freckle-faced one turned his head toward the railing and pretended she wasn’t speaking to him. The other cleared his throat but did not say anything. She repeated her request louder.

They still ignored her, this time pushing past her and continuing on with their discussion as if she’d not spoken.

Water droplets from the sea splashed her face as she watched the young men walk away from her, but she didn’t take notice of the freezing cold water. Her skin felt inflamed by the fury she felt shooting through her.

From the moment she’d woken this morning, she’d been subjected to the cruel treatment of white men who were convinced they were superior. She’d heard plenty of stories of the beatings, hangings, shootings, and cruel injustices the white man had inflicted on the Chinese from California to Wyoming so she’d allowed them to force her from her home. She’d boarded this ship. She’d even paid the fare she didn’t want to pay for passage to a country she did not want to go to. But it should not matter that she was Chinese and the men walking away from her were not. They were all human, and that, at the most basic level, entitled Father to receive help.

Without realizing what she was doing, she marched up behind the pair and tapped the red-haired one on the shoulder. “Excuse me. My father needs a doctor. Now. Where can I find him?”

The two men gaped at her, then their gazes met and they burst out laughing. “I don’t think Doc is available,” the tall, dark-haired one said with a nudge to his friend.

“Just go below with the other Orientals. It’s warmer there,” the one she’d tapped told her. His eyes were friendlier, and in them, she saw a flash of what looked like shame.

“I’d be happy to go where it is warm, as soon as my father sees the doctor.”

Instead of answering, the older rude one straightened his spine, then grabbed his friend’s arm. “Come on, Ralph. We’ve got orders.”

Ralph hesitated. “I’m sorry,” he said to her in a low voice. “We were told not to interfere—” Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, his friend succeeded in dragging him away.

Mei Lien wished she really was a boy. If she was, she could march after those two and interfere in their precious rounds with a fist to the jaw. That seemed to be the only thing white men listened to.

She spun around and headed back toward the stairs, back to her original plan of finding Jong Li. But then her attention was caught by the door ahead marked
Pilot
House
, its window lit from the other side. That was where the man in charge could be found, no doubt. Maybe she could convince him to help Father. They’d paid their way, after all.

Without a care for what might happen to her, she marched up to the door and lifted her hand to yank it open. But a voice from inside made her stop before the door budged.

“Are you certain about dumping the cargo, sir?” the voice asked in a hushed tone that led Mei Lien to believe its owner did not wish to be overheard.

“Och, of course, Cap’n,” answered another voice, this one heavy with a foreign accent Mei Lien had never before heard, with a lilt at the end of the words and a heavier sound to the vowels that made it hard to pick them apart from one another. “I can’t afford to have this filth on my ship. No self-respecting man would knowingly sleep on the same berth where a dirty Oriental has lain. The sooner we can rid ourselves of them, the better. How much longer until we can dump?”

“We’ve got to get out of the straits first,” the captain answered. “We don’t want the currents littering the sound’s beaches with bodies.”

“Right ye are, Cap’n. But the sooner we lighten the load, the better.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the icy wind slid through Mei Lien’s body, freezing her in place. Dump the cargo…bodies…

She and all the other Seattle Chinese were the cargo.

The truth hit her like a physical punch. She reeled back from the metal door, her hand still hanging in the air as though about to grasp the handle.

They weren’t going to China.

They weren’t going anywhere but to the bottom of the sea.

No. She had it wrong. She must have it wrong. People didn’t dump whole ships full of people into the ocean. Even the
Bok
Guey
, the white devil, couldn’t commit mass murder just because he didn’t like the Chinese.

But it had already happened, hadn’t it? Pockets of Chinese all along the coast had been killed over the last twenty years, especially since the passing of the Chinese Exclusion Act four years ago. Why was this so unbelievable?

Trembling, she backed farther away from the door and the evil on the other side.

Before this night was through, she and her family would be killed. The truth was too horrible for her mind to fully understand.

She thought of Grandmother, asleep in the cabin. Though stubborn and strict about proper behavior, Grandmother was her strength. She was the only mother Mei Lien had ever known. Grandmother was the one who had taught her to read and write in Chinese. She’d taught her to cook, clean, and care for their home. She’d taught her how to embroider the fine coin purses they sold at Father’s store, which earned the family enough to buy a whole chicken every Sunday. It was Grandmother who’d decided Mei Lien should dress as a boy when she’d started filling out and drawing attention from men about town.

And Father! Father, who had brought his pregnant wife and mother to America where he planned to be a successful merchant and raise strong sons. Instead, he’d lost his wife and raised a daughter, but he’d never once complained and he’d always made Mei Lien feel cherished. He called her his thousand pieces of gold. Even though she hadn’t known many other Chinese children in Seattle, she’d always known it was rare for a daughter to feel important to her father. Knowing that such a strong, honorable man was about to meet his end—and there was nothing she could do to stop it—made Mei Lien feel as if her bones had left her body.

Weakly, she stumbled to the railing just before her stomach repeatedly heaved what little contents it had. Through tears, she watched the bile and saliva that dripped from her mouth catch on the wind and fall to the swirling black waters below. Her hands slipped along the metal railing from the sweat coating her palms, despite the winter cold.

A noise caught her attention, and Mei Lien turned in time to see the door to the pilot house start to open. She quickly threw herself into the shadows next to a lifeboat, squeezing her body into the tightest ball she could form, holding her breath.

The same two voices emerged, discussing nautical miles and water currents. Mei Lien grasped the rope tied to the lifeboat with both hands and willed herself not to make a sound, despite her convulsing stomach and shaking breath.

She would not confront them. She would not lose her honor and beg for her family’s lives. These weren’t men, but demons. Demons didn’t listen to reason.

As they passed her hiding place, she turned to look at the men who would end her life. Both were surprisingly young, only a decade or so older than her seventeen years. One was difficult to see because he had his jacket collar lifted and his captain’s hat pulled low over his eyes. The other was the one she was most interested in. The one with the odd accent. The one the captain answered to. He was to blame.

He walked with the gait of a man who knew he held power. The lanterns on deck cast enough light to show his features in great detail, even though she could only see him from the side. He wore no hat, and his short red hair parted down the center of his head and ended above his ears. Matching eyebrows slashed in straight lines over eyes that looked dead, even as he laughed at something the captain said. A straight nose ended above moving thin lips, though the roaring in her head kept her from hearing what they said.

She’d rarely had cause to despise another human, but her hatred for this one burned hot. Again she wished she was a boy because then she’d have the strength to grab him and throw him over the side of the steamship before he could do the same to her family and all the innocent others below.

As soon as they were out of sight, Mei Lien ran toward her family’s cabin.

“My son, what is it?”

She jerked her head up and saw Father leaning weakly against the open door to their cabin as though he’d come searching for her but did not have the strength to venture far. The worry on his face cut through Mei Lien’s anger like an arrow point.

Her footsteps faltered. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. She had to tell Father. He might think of a way to save them. Maybe since he’d sailed on a steamship before, he’d know a place where they could hide until the ship docked.

She hurried to him, wishing she could crawl into his lap as she’d done as a child and know that he’d protect her from all evil. Instead she raised a hand and lightly stroked the uninjured side of his face as she looked into his eyes and saw the pain he would never admit to feeling. “I hate that you are hurt.”