Captive Bride, page 15
“Hurt?” she asked.
“A little.”
She sat, silently gazing at him for several moments, then began to sing. It was a strange, foreign lullaby as different from the familiar tunes of his childhood as a peacock was from a mourning dove. He listened to the rise and fall of her voice and thought how far she’d come to be here by his side. How resilient she’d been to suffer everything she’d been through yet remain brave and cheerful. She seemed to be managing much better than he to put her past behind her.
When the last quavering note died away, she said, “My mother song.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Song is of—” she put her forefinger and thumb an inch apart and made a high-pitched chirping sound, “—small bug.”
“A cricket?”
“Crick-et. Cricket sing—all is good in house.” She ground her palms together in a crushing motion. “Kill cricket. Good go away.”
“Don’t kill crickets or you’ll bring bad luck.”
“Yes.” She smiled and rose. “Now you sleep. Later eat.”
He grabbed her hand. “Stay. Lie with me for a while.”
Huiann stretched out beside him, wrapping an arm around his body. He sighed and curled his arm around her. If it weren’t for the terrible ache in his head, this would be a perfect way to spend an afternoon.
“Why don’t I take you someplace tomorrow—a picnic in the country? Would you like that?”
She ruffled her fingers through his chest hair. “I don’t understand. No talk. Sleep.”
“I’m going to take you someplace and show you there’s more to America than this city.” He would show her the house in the country and, as soon as he closed the deal, he’d move her there. A safe place where no one could find or harm her.
But in the meantime, he would keep handy his service pistol, which had been in the bottom of his trunk since he moved here. It was a heavy Colt that made the flimsy derringer look like a child’s toy.
Chapter Fourteen
Huiann was excited at the prospect of a day away from the house. She packed their lunch while she waited for Alan to bring a wagon from the nearby livery stable. At first she hadn’t understood where they were going today, but finally realized it was an outing simply to take a break from their daily routine. She wondered if they would fly kites such as she and her brother and sisters had enjoyed on family excursions back home.
Dora leaned against the counter with a cup of coffee in her hands. “You have a good time. I’ll finish Mrs. Henderson’s dress and start the next one. I’d rather be here than at home. Ralph’s out of work again and hittin’ the bottle hard.”
Huiann felt guilty at the sad look in her friend’s eyes, but not enough to invite Dora along. This time was for her and Alan to be alone. She patted Dora’s arm. “Thank you for sew dress.”
The other woman smiled. “That’s why I’m here.”
The kitchen door opened and Alan entered along with a gust of fresh air. He wore a dark gray hat—a Stetson, Dora had called it—and a long black coat that made him seem even taller than normal. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his eyes bright. Purple and red bruises marred one side of his face, and the stitches at his temple were white against them. Huiann had never imagined her sewing skills would be used to sew a man’s flesh together.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She put on her coat and the broad-brimmed hat Dora had given her, tying the ribbons underneath her chin to keep it on in the stiff breeze.
They bid Dora goodbye and another pang of guilt shot through Huiann as she stood in the doorway waving them off. The woman had been a good friend to her, the nearest thing she had to a sister in this foreign land. Dora had been sympathetic about her relationship with Alan, for which Huiann was grateful. But Dora would continue to be unhappy as long as she stayed with Ralph, and Huiann couldn’t change her fate for her.
Fate weaves a tapestry, but it’s up to each man to choose what color of thread he will be.
“Keep your face covered,” Alan warned as he ushered Huiann down the alley to the waiting horse and buggy. He helped her onto the seat and jumped up beside her.
She kept the brim of her hat pulled low over her face and pressed back against the seat, hidden by the hood of the buggy that rose over them. A shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the cutting wind. Inside Alan’s house it was easy to feel protected. Out here she remembered that Xie Fuhua was not the kind of man who would take the loss of a possession easily. He had probably not forgotten her.
Alan snapped the reins on the horse’s back and they rolled forward, merging into traffic. He leaned toward Huiann and murmured, “Don’t be afraid.”
She looked into his blue eyes, brighter than ever in the sunlight, and her fears faded. Luck was on their side. They would be careful, cautious, and all would be well.
In front of them, the horse’s glossy chestnut back gleamed. The metal-strapped wagon wheels clattered against the street. The sound of their wheels and those of all the other vehicles was deafening. Huiann didn’t look around but remained hidden in the shadow of the buggy hood until they drove out of the city’s bustle.
As they headed southwest, she smelled the briny scent of the ocean growing stronger. They weren’t going to the seashore today, however. Alan had drawn a map to show her where the city stood on a peninsula between the ocean and the bay. He drew a misshapen oval and told her it was Lake Merced. He had brought fishing poles and Huiann was excited about using them. She used to fish in Lake Taihu with Bolin when she was younger. Those times spent with him had been very special.
When Bolin had renounced her father’s textile manufacturing business to join the navy, Father had roared and Mother had wept, and Huiann had only seen her brother once since then, when he came home for a visit. She thought of his black eyes, his teasing grin, his wild ways, and her chest tightened. Likely she would never see him again.
She glanced at Alan, sitting so straight and tall beside her. What would her family think if they could see her with this man? Father and Mother would die from the shame and her sisters would weep at the loss of their little sister to a foreign demon. Likely all her relatives both living and dead would also be horrified. Among them, only Bolin and possibly Grandma Mei might understand her choice.
Alan glanced at her as he steered the wagon onto another road. “What are you thinking about?”
“Fishing with Bolin.”
“I’m sorry. You must miss your family terribly.” His low voice blended with the rumble of the wagon wheels.
She shrugged. It was true she didn’t want to die here in America. Her spirit might never find its way to her ancestors. But neither could she picture herself returning to her family. She wasn’t the same girl who’d left them and, in a very short time, Alan had become the center of her life. She couldn’t imagine being without him. But she didn’t know if he felt that way about her. Maybe she was only someone to warm his bed until the right woman—a white woman whom he could marry and have children with—came into his life.
As the wagon rolled on and the horse’s hooves beat a steady rhythm on the dirt road, city became country. The buildings were spread farther apart and there were houses with yards and gardens rather than businesses. Woods and grassland were interspersed with them. This countryside didn’t look so different from China. After days of living in a loud, coal-smoke-shrouded city, the beauty of nature soothed Huiann.
When they passed a hedgerow of berry bushes, she pointed them out. Alan stopped the buggy and they both climbed down to gather some plump blackberries to add to their lunch.
He grabbed her waist to pull her close and popped a berry into her mouth. Its juicy sweetness burst on her tongue and the big hard seeds crunched between her teeth. Alan leaned to kiss her with purple-stained lips and he tasted as sweet as the fruit. He slipped his tongue between her lips and coiled it around hers. Her response was as automatic as breathing now as she melted against him.
She loved how he couldn’t seem to get enough of touching her, kissing her, holding her hand or hugging her, and she wondered if that was a common manner among white men. Her mother and father had rarely displayed such physical affection in front of their children. But maybe they had behaved that way when people weren’t around.
Alan stole one more kiss from her before they climbed back into the buggy. Not too much farther down the road he again stopped the buggy. He pointed at a farmhouse with several outbuildings at the end of a long drive. “There, Huiann. That is the house I’m going to buy. What do you think?”
“Good.” Why was he showing her this house bought for a future in which she could never take part? He would marry some woman with yellow hair and snow-white skin, and their children would play in that yard, climb that apple tree. Huiann’s mouth tasted as if she’d eaten bitter fruit.
“You will live here and make your dresses. There will be space enough for several workers and you’ll be safe. Xie won’t find you.”
She frowned in confusion, trying to understand what he was saying. Was it possible he was asking her to be his wife? “And you will be here?”
“I’ll come as often as I can to see you. It’s quite a long way from the store.”
Her rising hopes plummeted like a bird whose wings had been clipped. He would visit, but she would no longer share his bed every night and his life every day. She would be his occasional companion when he chose to see her. Like a courtesan.
Huiann’s joy in their outing dimmed. “What you think is best.” She tried to sound thankful but could hear the stiffness in her voice.
Alan grabbed her hand. “Huiann, I don’t want you to leave me. I love having you live with me, to think of you so nearby all day long as I work in the store. But here you would be safe.”
She managed a smile to alleviate his frown. She mustn’t be so ungrateful when he was offering her a truly generous gift—a place to work and to live. “Yes. It is good. You give much to me. Thank you, Alan.”
A shadow lay over her bright day, but Huiann decided to ignore it and appreciate the moments they had together for as long as they lasted.
Alan urged the horse forward and they rode for several more minutes before coming around a bend in the road. Huiann’s heart lifted at the sight of a blue lake glimmering on the other side of a glade of trees. She loved water, whether it was gemlike Lake Taihu, the muddy yellow Yangtze or the stormy gray waves of the ocean. She sat up straighter on the hard wooden buggy seat and searched for more glimpses of the lake.
Alan pulled off the road and onto a grassy path with rutted tracks. He parked in an open area, set the brake and climbed down. As he set a picket line for the horse, Huiann took the hamper and blanket from the wagon bed. The smells of fresh water and earth were like perfume to her after so many days spent indoors.
Alan took her hand and led her down the sloping path to the water’s edge. This lake was larger than Taihu, and from the dark color she guessed it was deeper. A breeze rippled the surface, making the sunlight dance across it. They found a grassy spot to set their picnic supplies in the shelter of a tree.
“Hungry?” Alan asked.
She shook her head, wanting to explore the area first, to touch leaves and grass and cattails and maybe dip her feet in the lake, though it would be icy cold today.
He picked up the fishing poles he’d brought and handed her one. “Fish?”
“Yes. I get big fish. More than you,” she teased.
He raised his eyebrows at the challenge. “I’ll show you the best spot for bluegill and then we’ll see who catches more fish.”
They hiked around the marshy perimeter of the lake, water rising in each footprint they left behind in the damp earth. Her cheeks stung from the cold gusts of wind. Only the firmly tied ribbons kept her hat on her head.
Alan finally stopped on a point of land that jutted between two lobes of the lake and set down the tackle box. Using a trowel from the box, he dug for worms. Huiann stripped off her gloves and pawed through the dirt as he turned it up. She picked out worms and put them in an empty tin can.
After they’d baited their hooks and she’d rinsed the dirt off her hands, Huiann was glad to slip her cold fingers back into the warm gloves. She grasped the handle of the pole and tossed out her line. Her memory of performing these actions with Bolin beside her was so strong that, a sharp pang of homesickness pierced her heart.
As if he could see inside her thoughts, Alan said, “You used to fish with your brother. What is he like?”
“Tall.” She held a hand over her head to show how much taller. “He smile all the time. Then he go to sea. I miss him. Like you family miss you.”
Alan nodded. “It’s hard to go, but sometimes it’s harder to stay.”
“Tell me again why you leave school. What is army?”
He mimed shooting a gun. “Soldiers. Fighting. War.”
“Ah.” Now she understood more about those nightmares he couldn’t shake. “What happen to you?”
“I was captured and locked up in prison.”
“You dreams?”
“Yes. It was…” He trailed off and glanced down at her line, stretched like a straight line into the water. “Hey, you caught one.”
Huiann cranked the reel slowly, making sure the fish had truly taken the bait, but she wasn’t ready to let Alan off the hook any more than she was her bluegill. “Tell me.”
He turned his attention back to his own slack line and began winding it tighter. “It was bad. You couldn’t lie down for fear of being trampled. No food. No water. By the time we were set free, many had starved to death.”
Huiann thought of the women in the hold of the steamer, the skinny wrist of the girl reaching between the bars toward her. And she thought of herself, locked in the comfort of her room at Xie Fuhua’s house, just as much a prisoner, trapped, unable to breathe. No wonder Alan woke up at night gasping for air.
“Hard to…” She didn’t know the English for forget. “Hard to wash clean your head.” She tapped her temple.
Coming back from his memories, Alan focused on her face and smiled faintly. “Yes, it is.”
Huiann’s fish began to struggle harder, zigzagging back and forth. She let some of the line out, giving the fish the illusion of freedom and, when it settled down, reeled it in. The parallel between the struggling fish and their talk of captivity wasn’t lost on her. But when she finally pulled the fish from the water, it didn’t stop her from taking it off the hook and putting it in their catch basket. It would make a delicious dinner for later in the day.
A companionable silence fell between them as they continued to cast and reel in their lines. Alan hummed then sang a song and she listened in delight to the odd tune. His music was so strange and different from hers. She responded with a folk song of her own. When she tried to teach him the simple chorus, she dissolved into laughter at his inability to pronounce the words. It made her feel better about her mangled English.
After she’d caught three fish and Alan one, they pulled in their lines for the last time and went to eat the lunch she’d packed. Cold chicken, vegetables and rice, spiced canned pears and Alan’s bottle of wine. Huiann sprinkled a few of the berries they’d picked over the platefuls of rice and vegetables and handed one to Alan.
He looked doubtfully at his plate. “With blackberries?”
She seesawed her hand to represent balance. “Salt with sweet is good. Eat. You see.”
He forked up a bite, ate it and pronounced it “great.”
Using her chopsticks, Huiann tried her portion. The combination wasn’t what she would’ve wished. The blackberry seeds were the problem. She carefully moved the garnish of berries off to the side.
Alan laughed. “I see how it is. You use me as the canary to test the coal mine for you.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but laughed along with him. She was too happy not to. The day was beautiful and she wished this afternoon could go on forever.
After they’d eaten their fill, they stretched out on the blanket, wrapped in their coats and in each other’s arms. The breeze continued to blow, cool and insistent, and seagulls flew overhead, screaming to one another. The chill announced the coming winter. Alan had told her there was no snow here, only heavy, cold rain. She would miss the crisp, cool whiteness that blanketed her home in winter.
He rubbed her back. “What are you thinking about?”
“Snow.” She recalled his drawing of lacy snowflakes tumbling from a cloudy sky when he’d taught her the words for different types of weather.
“No snow here. Wish there was. I miss it and the lakes icing over so you could skate. New Hampshire is a beautiful place to live in the winter.”
She gazed at the achingly blue sky and the few wisps of clouds.
He put his finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up so he could see her eyes. “You’re thinking of home again too, aren’t you?”
“No,” she protested, and she really wasn’t. In fact, she’d been thinking about him.
“You’d be safer far away from San Francisco. I should buy you a ticket.”
She wasn’t sure she’d understood him correctly. “What?”
“Passage home. It can’t be all that much. Instead of buying this house I could send you home.”
She shook her head. “Too much money.” Yet she would let him buy her a house? It made no sense, but the truth was she no longer wanted to leave America, at least not now. Maybe some day before she died she would return to the land of her ancestors, but right now Suzhou was the last place she wanted to be. And it wasn’t only about her growing feelings for Alan. The feeling of satisfaction her sewing business gave her was immeasurable. Here in America she was a woman with income of her own. She was not ready to return to her old life even if she could.
“Father and Xie Fuhua make…” She clicked her tongue in annoyance and joined her hands together to illustrate an agreement.
