Captive Bride, page 5
“Are you all right?” Alan offered her his hand to help her to her feet. The woman’s hand was warm and soft in his and he didn’t let go right away. One moment then two slipped away. The air between them was charged with energy and Alan felt as if he was poised on the cusp of a crucial moment. His life would be forever different after this. He’d felt something similar when the mortar blast knocked him off his feet at Chickamauga. In the second before he’d blacked out he’d thought, This is how I die.
Only now he thought, This is how my life begins.
The woman touched her hand to her chest. “Chua Huiann.”
“Alan Sommers.”
Her hand moved within his and he realized it was past time to let go. As he released her, he glanced toward the front of the store. Her pursuer might come back and, even though the door was locked, it was best he get her out of sight.
“Come with me.” He pointed at the door that led to his apartment.
She hesitated and looked toward the street before following him.
Behind the shop on the first floor of the building was his kitchen. Upstairs, a bedroom, sitting room and spare room, which he used for storage. Alan pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. His guest stared at it for a second then smoothed her gown and sat gracefully.
“Do you want something to drink? Some coffee or maybe tea? You people prefer tea, right?” He stirred up the coals in the stove. The kettle was already on the top, but it would take some time for the water to heat.
He turned toward Shu-Ann and she glanced at him from beneath her brows. Alan had learned a few things about Chinese culture from Dong Li and understood direct eye contact was considered impolite. Shu-Ann had been quite bold in meeting his gaze up until now.
Alan searched his mind for a way to communicate with her then held up his palm, signaling her to remain seated. “Stay. I’ll be right back.”
She gave a slight inclination of her head which set quivering the strings of tiny white shells that adorned her hair.
Behind the store counter, Alan had a roll of butcher paper for wrapping purchases. He cut a length, grabbed a couple of pencils and returned to the kitchen.
Shu-Ann was looking around at the cupboards and stove and the small window which opened onto the back courtyard. When he entered, her gaze swept to him. Such dark exotic eyes with their fringe of black lashes. Her gaze made him hot and hungry in a way that was inappropriate for a man who’d set himself to be her savior and protector.
Alan laid the paper on the table before her and sketched a rough shape of the United States then marked San Francisco on the map. He drew another blob intended to be China and made some waves to indicate the ocean in between. For good measure, he made a fair approximation of a steamship chugging between the two.
He pointed at the spots on the map. “America. China.” He pointed at Shu-Ann. “China.”
For a moment, she stared at the paper and he feared his geography lesson was gibberish to her. Then she took the other pencil and began to draw on the map of China. A cluster of houses, a river, some stick people and Chinese symbols. She pointed to the steamship he’d drawn and held up ten fingers and seven more, showing how many days she’d been at sea. She looked at Alan.
He nodded his understanding. “Seventeen days to cross.”
Shu-Ann began to talk as she marked the paper. He was intrigued by the rise and fall of her voice as her story unfolded on paper.
In San Francisco, she drew the port and some buildings, then a house and a man with a moustache and a fierce glare. On the upper story of the house she sketched a window with bars and a face behind them. She pointed to the face then to herself. “Chua Huiann.” Her voice cracked and she fell silent. Her hand stilled on the paper.
Alan wished he could tell her he understood the helpless feeling of being trapped. He’d been a prisoner too. He pointed to the sketch of the glaring man, a suspicion of his identity rising from the conversation he’d had with Dong Li earlier. “Who? Xie Fuhua?” He did his best to pronounce the name as Li had done.
Her eyes widened in surprise and her head bobbed. “Shi, Xie Fuhua!”
The tong boss who owned the steamer she’d arrived on. Alan was sickened as he imagined what the man had likely planned for this innocent woman.
“I’m sorry.” He reached out to pat her shoulder, but the kettle on the stove shrieked, breaking the moment of silent solidarity. He went to prepare the tea.
Shu-Ann rose and joined him by the stove. She pointed to the kettle and the tea canister. He stood back and let her take over the task, watching her lovely hands measure the loose tea, lift the steaming kettle and pour water into the teapot. She talked as she worked. Perhaps she told about her family or her voyage to America or the man who’d held her hostage or maybe she was only talking about making tea. Whatever it was, Alan felt he could almost understand her if he listened hard enough, and listening wasn’t difficult because he liked the sound of her musical voice.
After it had steeped, she poured the tea into two chipped coffee mugs he provided. She lifted one of the cups and presented it to him with a bow.
Charmed by her manners, Alan took the cup and sipped the awful, watery brew. He hated tea and only kept it on hand for the rare guest who enjoyed it. Not that he actually had any guests, and probably the tea tasted so bad because it was so old.
He dipped his head. “Thank you.”
His guest smiled. Not the polite quirk of the lips she’d given earlier, but a wide smile that created deep dimples in her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled. Alan’s heart knocked against his breastbone.
At the same time there was an actual knock at the door leading into the store. He jerked and nearly spilled his tea.
Jeremy opened the door and surprise turned his pumpkin face into a shocked jack-o’-lantern. “Mr. Sommers, I’m sorry to interrupt. I thought…Um, there are people waiting outside and I didn’t know why the store was closed.” He opened and closed his mouth silently a couple of times like a dying fish. “I, uh, signed for the freight at the train yard and arranged for a driver to transport the merchandise.”
“Good.” Alan moved in front of Shu-Ann, blocking her from the clerk’s view. “Go ahead and open up. Apologize to the customers but, Jeremy, don’t chat with anyone about my…new housekeeper, all right?”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” The young man’s eyes were the size of half dollars. “Discretion. Absolutely.”
“You can go now. When the freight arrives, I’ll help you unload, but meanwhile I’ll be busy showing Miss Ann her duties.”
Jeremy blushed such a fiery red Alan feared his face would ignite. “Okay.” The clerk bobbed his head and backed out of the room.
Alan turned to Shu-Ann. Her eyes were nearly as wide as Jeremy’s.
“It’s all right. He’s harmless. You’re safe and you can stay here until you decide what to do.” He pointed to the narrow staircase. “I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
She frowned and looked from the stairs to him.
“It’s all right,” he repeated. He pointed to the picture of Shu-Ann behind bars and waved his hand as if erasing it. “You’re not a prisoner. You can leave here any time. You’re safe with me.”
She swallowed, betraying her nervousness, but nodded and placed her mug on the counter beside his.
Alan led the way up the rickety stairs. He was ashamed at how dirty they were, couldn’t remember the last time he’d swept them. He’d never cared enough to make the place look like a proper home. The sitting room was shabby and sparsely furnished. His bed was unmade and clothes lay everywhere in his bedroom so he barely allowed her a glimpse inside. The extra room was packed full of stock for the store.
“I’ll move all this out and you can sleep here.” He pointed at Shu-Ann then at the few square feet of bare floor in the crowded room. “You, sleep here.”
Her gaze darted past him to the open door as though she considered escape.
“No. Nothing bad.” He shook his head. “You keep house for me and live here.”
He rested his head on folded hands, eyes closed in pretend sleep, but it only confused her more. Alan moved away from the door so she could get past him if she wished to.
He pointed at her. “You. Cook.” He made eating motions, then wiped his finger through the dust coating a small table and showed it to her. “Clean.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “You.” She pointed at herself. “Cook.” She mimed eating then wiped the dusty wood. “Ceen.” Her nose wrinkled as she studied the dirt on her hand and repeated the word quietly to herself. “Ceen.”
“I know it’s filthy.” He smiled and was rewarded with a small smile that showed her adorable dimples.
Shu-Ann nodded emphatically and rattled off a stream of words in Chinese before repeating his English words carefully. “Chua Huiann cook. Ceen.”
“Great.” He started piling boxes. “I’ll clear this out and bring you some bedding from the store.”
It didn’t take him long to empty the room, carrying piles to the store and earning more curious looks from Jeremy. Alan brought up a rolled mattress and blankets and dropped the bundle on the floor in the hallway. Then he watched Shu-Ann sweeping her new bedroom with the broom he’d provided her.
Perhaps he should give her his room, have her sleep on a proper bed and take the smaller room for himself. It felt wrong to sleep in relative luxury while his guest bunked on the floor. But she might think he was suggesting something if he offered his room. Only an exchange of labor for basic lodging would make their arrangement acceptable.
She couldn’t clean house while wearing a wedding dress so Alan went back to the store and selected one of the ready-made frocks. Most women bought fabric and sewed their own clothing, but he kept on hand a few dresses ordered from a catalog. His new housekeeper might not care for a Western-style gown, but it was all he had to offer.
When he held out the plain white blouse and navy blue skirt, Shu-Ann stared at them for several long moments.
He pointed at her dress. “Too fancy. You need work clothes.”
She bobbed her head and accepted the pile of clothing. Alan looked down on the top of her head, the shining blackness and the white line of her part. He imagined her combing her hair and pinning it up with those shell combs. The mental picture of her performing this intimate task made him ache. She was such a pretty, delicate thing yet with an iron will that had driven her to escape from her prison. Alan couldn’t imagine anyone hurting such a doll of a woman, but he knew well that some men simply enjoyed breaking things.
He stepped back. “I have work to do in the store. Fix up your room and then rest. You must be exhausted from all you’ve been through.”
Before he went downstairs, he remembered she’d have basic needs to satisfy and got the empty slop jar from his room. He set it on the floor by her door. “For your, uh, needs.” He gestured below his waist and Shu-Ann dipped her head, pressing her lips tight and flushing. “If you need anything else, I’ll be in the store.”
She bowed and rattled off a few words.
“You’re welcome.” He returned her bow and clumped down the stairs in boots that felt as if they weren’t touching the floor. He hadn’t felt this alive or excited about anything in years. For the first time in a long time, life seemed interesting.
When Alan entered the store, Jeremy was serving a customer. Alan ignored the clerk’s glances and went back to the task he’d been performing when Shu-Ann exploded into his world. Inventorying hardware was simple work, leaving most of his mind free to think of the woman upstairs. What was she doing right now? What was she thinking? How long would she stay? And good God, if she stayed, how would that impact on his fledgling political campaign?
If people discovered this woman was sharing his living quarters, it would be disastrous. During the heat of a campaign, his opponents would be looking for morally questionable behavior they could use as fodder against him. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t think of putting Shu-Ann out on the street because of what people might say or how her presence might hurt his chance of winning a seat on the board. His decision to help her might have been impulsive but it wasn’t unconsidered. He knew he was doing the right thing. His next step would be to learn more about the man she’d run away from and whether he’d be searching for her.
Alan lost count for the third time and gave up trying to tabulate the bin of screws. The freight delivery arrived and he and Jeremy unloaded boxes and barrels. They spent the next hour unpacking their contents and restocking shelves. Alan could feel questions trembling on the tip of Jeremy’s tongue as they lifted a heavy rolled-up rug and carried it to the front of the store.
“I want this open for display, but I don’t want people walking all over it. We’ll hang it on the wall here.”
“Yes, sir.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “May I ask—”
“I decided I needed a housekeeper so I hired one.” Alan stared at the younger man. “Taylor, please keep this information to yourself. No gossiping to anyone. Understand?”
Jeremy nodded, but Alan could tell how much it pained him to bite his tongue.
After they’d hung the carpet, a hot and time-consuming project, Alan left Jeremy to mind the shop and went to check on Shu-Ann, bringing supplies with him.
She was in the kitchen, scrubbing the doors of the cupboards. She wore her hair in a single braid down her back and the front was tied in a kerchief. The blouse he’d given her hung loose. She’d rolled up the sleeves and tucked part of the skirt into the waistband to keep the hem from trailing on the floor. And somehow she was even more attractive in the oversized clothes and with the simple hairstyle.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, her cheeks pink from the effort of scrubbing. One long strand of hair clung to her sweaty face. She blew it back with a puff of breath and the purse of her lips made tension gather in his groin.
Ignoring his body’s automatic response, Alan set the items he’d brought on the table and patted the pile of fabric. “Can you sew? I’ve brought material for you. And canned goods since there’s nothing in my cupboards. I usually eat at a restaurant.”
He carried the tins of meat and vegetables to the counter near her and showed her how to open them. “Like this.” He pushed the key into the slot on one of the cans and rolled the tin back to reveal a gelatinous brown substance inside. “Instant meat.”
Shu-Ann sniffed the processed meat and winced.
“It’s hardly the butcher’s best cut, but it’s convenient. I have some beans here too, and peas. If you wouldn’t mind putting a meal together, I’ll show you how the stove works.”
He got out a pan, showed her where the utensils were and fetched more water from the communal pump in the courtyard behind the building. Five stores with apartments above backed onto this area. Dozens of people shared the water source and the communal outhouse. It wasn’t a pleasant-smelling courtyard.
When Alan returned with a pair of full pails of water, Shu-Ann was slicing the blob of meat with a knife. Her mouth was downturned as if she were cutting up dog turds instead of meat. Alan chuckled at her expression and she glanced up and smiled. Damn, she had to stop doing that. Every time she did, he lost his Good Samaritan perspective and wanted to grab and kiss her.
Shu-Ann went to the table where the sheet of butcher paper lay and drew circles with little lines coming out of the top.
“Um, apples? You want me to bring you some apples? Sure.”
“Appu,” she said, and then spoke a word in Chinese.
“Ping,” Alan echoed then went to get some from the store.
At the end of the day, after he’d bid Jeremy good-night and closed the shop, Alan returned to a fragrant kitchen. A cloth covered the set table and steam wafted from a pan on the stove. In the years he’d lived here, it was the first time he’d felt as if he was entering a real home.
A moment later, Shu-Ann padded down the stairs, her slippered feet almost silent. Alan bowed and she returned the greeting. She went to the stove and began dishing up a plateful of food while Alan sat down at the table.
After placing the plate in front of him, she went to the corner of the room and stood like a servant with her hands folded and her eyes downcast.
“Please, sit.” Alan gestured to the other chair.
She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, looking as if she’d like to sink into it. Perhaps she was trying to establish her place as a servant in his house, or maybe it was taboo for an unmarried Chinese women to eat with a strange man. Whatever the reason, Alan felt self-conscious shoveling food into his mouth while she hovered nearby. The meal was delicious. She’d done amazing things with the tinned beef and beans, adding slices of barely cooked apple and spices that gave it a different flavor and texture, but it was hard to swallow when he was the only one eating.
Alan devoured his food quickly. Before she could step forward and whisk it away, he rose and put it in the sink. Taking another plate from the cupboard, he filled it, set it on the table and pulled back the chair, making it impossible for Shu-Ann to refuse his offer.
She perched on the edge of the seat and touched the fork and spoon which Alan gave her. At last she chose the spoon, holding it awkwardly as she scooped a bite of food.
Alan left her to eat in peace, picking up the buckets to fill them at the pump. It was a balmy evening. A few stars were sprinkled in the square of sky surrounded by buildings on all sides. Alan didn’t like the confining courtyard penning him in, but ignored his growing sense of anxiety and concentrated on pumping water.
By the time he returned to the kitchen, Shu-Ann was washing the dishes. When he tried to help, she waved a hand at him and squawked like an angry jay. She jabbed her finger at her chest, indicating it was her job.
