Jewel of the East

by Ann Hood

  Maisie didn’t answer. Felix sighed. He knew that the time would come for them to leave China and Pearl behind, and he knew that Maisie would resist.

  “Remember,” Maisie said, “Pearl Sydenstricker is probably going to grow up and do something wonderful. She isn’t going to get killed by these Boxers.”

  Now it was Felix who didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for his sister’s hand and took it in his own. They slept that way all night, holding hands, each of them dreaming their different dreams.

  First, Mr. Kung stopped coming.

  Then, foreigners from the north began arriving in Zhenjiang. Their clothes were ripped, their bodies bruised and broken. They told stories of the Boxers beating them and burning their houses. Frightened, they arranged for junks to take them to Shanghai for safety. Many of them told stories of how their children had starved to death or died from sickness along the way. With each new story Mrs. Sydenstricker heard, she begged her husband to let them leave. Each time, he refused. More resolved than ever, he insisted he must stay and fight the heathens.

  Still, Mrs. Sydenstricker had Pearl, Maisie, and Felix fold all their clothes and leave them on a chair by their beds. “In case we have to leave quickly in the night,” she told them.

  Maisie and Felix wore the cotton pants, tunics, and cloth shoes that all the children wore. They folded them neatly along with the party clothes they’d arrived in. At night, they lay in bed, Felix trembling with fear and Maisie trembling with excitement. The sound of Pearl’s parents arguing rang throughout the house.

  On the day the empress issued an imperial edict calling for death to all foreigners, Maisie and Felix sneaked out of the house and walked to Horse Street. They did this every afternoon while Mrs. Sydenstricker napped and Pearl rocked baby Grace on the veranda. Both of them hid their hair under hats just like Pearl did whenever they went out.

  “I think it’s time,” Felix said. “I’m really afraid of what these Boxers might do next.”

  Maisie didn’t answer.

  Out of habit, Felix reached into his pocket to touch the little jade box.

  “Oh no!” he said. “The box is missing!”

  He stopped walking and looked around the ground. “We have to retrace our steps,” he said. “Without that box, we’ll never get home.”

  Panicked, he began to walk back in the direction from which they’d come, his eyes desperately on the lookout for the box. What if the dirt spilled when the box fell from his pocket? Felix wondered. Was the dirt important, too?

  He turned to ask Maisie these very questions, but she was nowhere to be found.

  “Maisie!” he called.

  At first he heard nothing. Then a loud scream came from down the road.

  Felix stood, frozen for a moment, until his sister’s voice cut through the silence.

  “Felix! Felix! Help!”

  In an instant, Felix was running back toward Horse Street, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might break through his ribs. He opened his mouth to tell her he was coming, but his voice came out like a squeak.

  “Help! Help!” Maisie yelled.

  Right before the marketplace, Horse Street split and part of it dipped down toward the river. Felix followed Maisie’s voice there, tripping over roots that stuck out of the ground and scraping his arms on low branches as he ran.

  On the bank of the river, a small group of teenagers stood huddled together. And in the middle of them, crouched and covering her face with her hands, was Maisie. Her hat had come off, and all Felix could see clearly was her mop of hair. What were these boys doing? he wondered as he ran, panting.

  “Hey!” he called to them, his voice finally returning.

  A few of the teenagers turned in his direction. Felix saw then that they had big sticks in their hands. One of them held a large rock in the air, about to bring it down on Maisie.

  Felix increased his speed and leaped at the boy with the rock, knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him with a big thud.

  The boys with the sticks poked him hard in the ribs, taunting him in Chinese as they did. Felix tried to ward them off, but he couldn’t. The boy beneath him threw Felix off of him. Now Felix was flat on his back looking up into a crowd of angry faces.

  The biggest, meanest boy of them all took a step closer to Felix, his stick raised high.

  Felix closed his eyes tight, preparing for the terrible blow.

  “Zù zhî!” someone shouted. “Zù zhî!”

  Felix peeked from beneath his eyelids and saw the boys scattering.

  “Zù zhî!”

  There, in the middle of them all, stood Wang Amah, slapping them on the arms and shooing them away.

  Carefully, Felix sat up. His side stung from where he’d been poked. Now he could see Maisie clearly. Her cheek was scraped and bleeding, and her arms had red welts all over them.

  Wang Amah helped Maisie to her feet, scolding them in rapid Chinese.

  Felix’s and Maisie’s eyes met above Wang Amah’s head.

  “I have it,” Maisie said through her tears.

  “Have what?” Felix said.

  “The box. I took it so we couldn’t leave.”

  Even though he wanted to be angry with her, the sight of his strong, independent sister hurt and crying made Felix rush to her side and throw his arms around her.

  “I don’t care,” he said, hugging her.

  Maisie reached into her own pocket and pulled out the jade box.

  “Here,” she said. “I think it’s time we gave this to Pearl.”

  The next morning, Maisie and Felix woke up and headed to the kitchen as usual. Mrs. Sydenstricker had been so angry at them for sneaking out that they’d gone to bed early to avoid her. Even as she gently cleaned Maisie’s cuts, she’d shook her head in disappointment.

  “I hope we’re not still in trouble,” Maisie said.

  “I hope Mr. Sydenstricker doesn’t yell at us. He scares me even when I’m not in trouble.”

  To their surprise, the atmosphere in the kitchen was light, like it had been before all the trouble with the Boxers, before Mr. Sydenstricker had returned home to stay. Wang Amah and Chushi were chattering happily, and Pearl sat eating rice and salted fish out of her bowl with chopsticks.

  “Father has gone to give communion to an old lady,” Pearl said.

  That explained the lighter mood, Felix realized. Without the frightening presence of Pearl’s father, everyone relaxed.

  The day took on the old rhythms. Chushi told them the story of the Red Dragon, acting out each part. After breakfast, they all sat on the veranda, and Wang Amah told them once more about her childhood and her daring escape from the soldiers.

  “I wish we could go to Horse Street and get some candy,” Pearl said. “That would make today perfect.”

  But Wang Amah would not hear of it. “Danger!” she shouted in Chinese. “Danger!”

  Relieved, Felix went with Pearl to the hills behind the house to fly a kite. Even Maisie didn’t want to leave and stayed behind instead to rock Grace on the porch.

  The wind wasn’t very strong, and neither of them could get the kite into the air. Finally they gave up and flopped onto the warm grass.

  “Felix?” Pearl said. “Aren’t your parents worried about you?”

  His mind drifted to the Christmas party. “I don’t think so,” he answered honestly.

  “Are you orphans?” Pearl asked gently.

  Felix didn’t know how to answer. As he struggled for a reply, Pearl said, “It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

  Felix propped himself up on one elbow.

  “I have something for you,” he said. “A thank-you present for letting us stay with your family.”

  “Is it candy?” Pearl said, her eyes shining at the idea.

  “No,” Felix said. “Sorry.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the jade box.

  “Here,” he said.

  Pearl grinned. “It’s pretty,” she s
aid. “Xiè xie.”

  “Bié kéqi,” Felix said effortlessly. You’re welcome.

  “What should I keep in it?” Pearl asked, starting to lift the lid.

  Felix grabbed her hand. “Oh,” he said, “there’s already something in there.”

  “A ring?” Pearl asked playfully. “A brooch?”

  Felix shook his head. “I don’t even know what a brooch is,” he said.

  “A pin,” Pearl explained. “A fancy pin that ladies wear.”

  “No,” he said. “Sorry. It’s nothing like that.”

  Pearl opened the lid and frowned.

  “Why did you fill it with dirt from our yard?” she asked, puzzled.

  “How do you know that dirt is from here?” Felix asked her.

  Pearl put some on her fingers and showed Felix.

  “The color,” she said. “The earth here has this color. I would recognize it anywhere.”

  Pearl laughed. “But I certainly don’t need more of it,” she said, pointing at the hills.

  Without warning, she tipped the box to empty the dirt from it.

  “No!” Felix shouted.

  The dirt seemed to float in the air.

  “Don’t throw out the dirt,” Felix said.

  “You’re so odd,” Pearl said. “Why would I need to keep dirt?”

  Felix swallowed hard. “Maybe,” he began, then paused before continuing. “Maybe no matter where you go you’ll always take this with you,” he said. “Maybe it will inspire you someday.”

  Pearl studied Felix’s face until he squirmed under her stare. “Maybe it will,” she said finally.

  Felix thought that Mrs. Sydenstricker was trying very hard not to look worried. But he could see how she jumped at every small noise and glanced out the window anxiously whenever she thought no one could see. Evening had arrived without any word from Mr. Sydenstricker. After dinner, Pearl tried to amuse everyone by making up stories, but her mother could not concentrate. Finally, she sent them all to bed.

  “Do you think he’s been killed?” Felix asked Maisie.

  Remembering the gang on Horse Street, she shuddered.

  “I thought an empress would be beautiful,” Maisie said. “But Pearl told me she’s old and wrinkled. Like Wang Amah.”

  “Wang Amah saved our lives,” Felix said.

  “I know.”

  “Maisie,” Felix said. “I gave it to her.”

  “Gave what? To who?” Maisie asked, confused.

  “The box. I gave it to Pearl this afternoon.”

  “Again?” Maisie said. “You went behind my back again?”

  “I didn’t go behind your back,” Felix began. “You said yourself that it was time for us to give it to her.”

  “Us, Felix! Not you! Us!”

  “I did it so we could get home if we needed to,” Felix said. “I was trying to help us.”

  “First you take Lily Goldberg to The Treasure Chest, deliberately leaving me behind. And now—”

  “Now I did exactly what you said to do.”

  He waited for Maisie’s reply, but a moment of chilling silence passed.

  “Maisie,” he pleaded. “Come on.”

  But his sister just rolled away from him and kept her back turned the entire night.

  Felix woke to the sound of excited shouts and racing footsteps. Maisie was already out of bed. As he dressed quickly, he remembered her harsh words the night before. Great-Aunt Maisie and her twin brother, Thorne, had never spoken again after a fight. Would his sister really do the same to him?

  Everyone was standing in the doorway. The heat shimmered in the distance. Already the day was so hot that Felix started to sweat just walking from his room to the front door.

  Pearl turned to him when she heard him approach. “Look!” she said. “Father is home safely!”

  Sure enough, Mr. Sydenstricker was coming up the path to the house. As he neared, Felix saw blood on his cheek and forehead, but his blue eyes shone with joy.

  At the threshold, he stopped and grinned.

  “Lin Meng has been martyred!” he said victoriously. “Lin Meng has entered heaven!”

  Mrs. Sydenstricker’s hand went to her heart. “No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Oh no.”

  Her husband took her hands in his and smiled. “He is standing with the lord!” he said, his voice again filled with joy. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Children,” Mrs. Sydenstricker said, “go to the kitchen with Amah and have your breakfast.”

  But none of them could move. Instead, they stood transfixed as they tried to make sense of the strangely joyful tone and the terrible story they told. Lin Meng, the son of the old woman he’d gone to give communion to, had been murdered? In front of Mr. Sydenstricker? Yet he was jubilant.

  “The soldiers raided the house as I was administering communion. They tied me to a post.” Here, he held his arms up in triumph to display the rope burns on his wrists. “And they tortured Lin Meng to death.” Mr. Sydenstricker’s voice filled with wonder. “My own convert,” he said. “A martyr.”

  “Isn’t a martyr someone who dies for their beliefs?” Maisie whispered to Pearl.

  “He believes being a martyr is even better than being just a convert,” Pearl whispered back.

  “He thinks dying is a good thing?” Felix said, unable to keep his voice low.

  “Absalom,” Mrs. Sydenstricker said harshly. “You’re frightening the children. I’ve had enough. I’m taking the children to Shanghai. Nothing will happen to these children. Do you hear me? Nothing.”

  Mr. Sydenstricker looked at her, surprised. “I refuse to leave now. How could I? With the possibility of my own martyrdom so near?”

  His wife gasped. “Absalom!” she said in disbelief.

  “You have always put your own needs before the souls of the heathens here,” he said sadly.

  She studied her husband’s face for a long time.

  “Stay then,” she said finally. “But you must hire a junk to wait for us on the river so that we can escape. I’ve already mapped out a route through the bamboo.”

  This time he studied her face.

  “Fine,” he said. “I will go now and make the arrangements. When the time is right, you will be able to leave.”

  Over the next few days, the heat worsened. The entire family stayed in the dark in the living room. It was so hot that Mr. Sydenstricker took off his preacher’s white collar, the first time Maisie and Felix had seen him without it. Mrs. Sydenstricker entertained them with stories of the Civil War battles and the bravery of the Americans. Maisie understood these stories were meant to build their own courage and to prepare them for anything that might lie ahead. She noticed how often Mrs. Sydenstricker went to the window to look out at the river where, when the time came to escape, a red flag would be raised as a signal.

  Chushi, the cook, came into the room one morning with tea for all of them set on a bamboo tray. As he poured the tea into each small cup, he spoke softly.

  A look of fear spread across Pearl’s face.

  “What is he saying?” Mrs. Sydenstricker asked Pearl. No one in the family spoke Chinese as well as Pearl did, not even her mother. “Something about Shanxi?”

  “They’ve killed almost fifty Christians there,” Pearl said.

  “Oh no!” her mother murmured.

  The cook spoke again.

  This time Pearl dropped to the floor and hugged him around the knees.

  “What is it, darling?”

  “He said he must leave us. He fears for our lives. And his own for associating with us,” she cried.

  “Of course,” Mr. Sydenstricker said. “He should go.”

  After Chushi left, Pearl cried softly for some time in the hot, still room.

  Mrs. Sydenstricker paced, walking from her chair to the window and back again, over and over, almost desperately.

  Felix watched her go to look out the window once again. But this time her back stiffened, and she turned from the window
with her face covered with relief.

  “The flag is up!” she said. “It’s time.”

  Just as they’d rehearsed, they all scrambled to their feet and ran to get their things. All except Mr. Sydenstricker, who refused to evacuate Zhenjiang.

  With Mrs. Sydenstricker in the lead and Wang Amah carrying Grace, they walked out the back door, through the veranda, and down the emerald-green hills. As they passed the small, mud farmhouses that dotted the landscape, Felix begged Maisie to forgive him.

  “Please,” he said. “I did it so we could get home. I’ll never do anything without talking to you first again, I promise. Just forgive me.”

  Maisie kept walking as if she didn’t hear him. When Pearl had asked Maisie why she was ignoring Felix, Maisie had said, “Because he’s a sneak, that’s why!” But deep down, she knew it was more than the fact that he’d given Pearl that box without Maisie there. More and more it felt to Maisie like Felix didn’t need her. Back in Newport, he had Jim Duncan and Lily Goldberg. It used to be the two of them and everyone else. Now it felt like it was just her alone and everyone else. Why couldn’t they have given Pearl the jade box together? Why did he have to do everything on his own?

  The people working in the rice paddies barely looked up at the group of foreigners passing them. White geese walked beside them, their wings fluttering.

  Finally, they reached the river where the boat waited for them. They boarded in silence, each of them staring back at the city they were leaving behind.

  When the boat had traveled far enough for the city to disappear completely from view, Mrs. Sydenstricker let out a deep sigh.

  “Shanghai,” she said. She smiled. “Shanghai,” she said again, louder.

  “Shanghai doesn’t feel like China at all,” Pearl said sadly.

  Pearl was right. Shanghai in 1900 was an open city, free to trade with other countries like Britain and France and the United States. As a result, it seemed more European than Chinese. For Maisie and Felix, Shanghai was fancy and exotic. They loved the large international ships docked on the Huangpu River and all of the sailors in their different country’s uniforms. The streets of Shanghai were lined with shops selling imports from England and the United States: perfume, silk stockings, lingerie; cashmere scarves, leather boots and coats; wine in dusty wooden cases. Walking down the broad boulevard, they both liked to window-shop. If Maisie had forgiven him, Felix knew that they would have even more fun. But she continued to completely ignore him.