Robbie Taggart

by Michael Phillips

  As the girl turned sixteen, therefore, offers had to be considered. The most insistent came from the family of Wang—it was almost unseemly how persistent they could be. Wang was a relatively new name among Shanghai’s cultured families, though their wealth was real enough. Rumor had it, however, that the old man’s fortune had been gained in most disreputable enterprises. Moreover, the son, the marriage candidate, was reputed to be wild and unmanageable.

  Shan-fei, however, chanced one day to see young K’ung-wu and was much taken with him, for he was handsome and manly. As contrary as it was for one in her position to meet a potential marriage candidate, much less have any say in the decision of her parents, Shan-fei had never been forced to submit to most of the expectations of culture. Thus, she used her favor in her parents’ eyes as an advantage to press for a match with Wang K’ung-wu. Her father wavered, unfortunately raising the hopes of the headstrong K’ung-wu. In the end, however, they stood firm against this family whose reputation they shunned, and a match was agreed upon instead with the family of Chu Tun-ru. Shan-fei’s desire for young Wang, springing as it did more from girlish fancy than true passion, waned, and she conceded to the choice of her father. And when she married a year later, she found her new husband to be a kind and considerate mate.

  Her new mother-in-law, however, proved to be the fatal flaw in what might have been a good marriage. Discord between mother and daughter-in-law was not only culturally accepted, oftentimes a mother-in-law lost face if she treated the wife of her son too tenderly or with respect. Simply bred herself, old Mrs. Chu carried such a custom to the extreme, resenting the Tien clan. She was pleased enough for her son to have married into the wealthy family, but felt it was her duty to rectify the life of ease that the spoiled daughter of Tien had enjoyed throughout her young life—for the sake of her son, of course. She did not want to see him subjugated to this spoiled young girl.

  Thus, an abrupt end came to Shan-fei’s idyllic lifestyle. The fortune of Chu had come upon hard times, and though they managed to maintain the appearance of wealth, the household itself was run very strictly. Shan-fei often received the brunt of the difficulties. She was given only cast-off clothing to wear and often served in place of slaves; only her bound feet kept her from the most rigorous labor. But it was not the physical hardships that troubled the young girl most, but rather the older woman’s biting tongue, accompanied by her constant attempts to sow discord between Shan-fei and her husband. Though he had to be careful not to offend his mother, had it not been for his diplomatic mediation, life would quickly have become intolerable for Shan-fei.

  When after ten years of marriage Tun-ru died, Shan-fei thought she would die too. Returning to her parents was simply not possible; she was now owned by the family of her husband. Most Chinese widows do not remarry, and suicide is sometimes a solution to such a desperate situation. But the thought of leaving her young daughter to the heartless wiles of Mrs. Chu dispelled suicide as a possible escape for Shan-fei. Remarriage seemed the only way out.

  Wang’s intercession, however, was no longer desirable to Shan-fei. His reputation through the years had followed his father’s in ruthlessness, and to one of Shan-fei’s delicate sensibilities, such a man had no appeal.

  The Chu’s, however, did not see beyond his money. How could a troublesome daughter-in-law compare with the price Wang was offering? Especially a daughter-in-law who had born no sons!

  Shan-fei’s father, old Tien, meanwhile, had gone the way of his ancestors, and Shan-fei did not want to burden her aged and ailing mother with her troubles. She was too proud to call upon her brothers, now holding the reins of family power. By rights, they might have demanded redress for her mistreatment by her in-laws, but such cases were usually too tragic and unpleasant even to consider. And the Chu name also belonged to her dead husband, and she had cared for and respected him and could not now bring dishonor to him.

  Silent endurance of her fate seemed the only answer. Perhaps Wang would prove an acceptable husband despite his reputation in matters of business. Could not men hard in the marketplace be tender at home? It was a feeble hope, but Shan-fei clung desperately to it as the day of her wedding appointed by her father-in-law approached. By chance, however, she learned a terrifying fact that immediately crushed even the small thread of hope she had possessed.

  Wang had carefully kept from sight his disdain of children. Sons of his own he might tolerate, but girls, either his or anyone else’s—they were useless. He kept this fact quiet for fear of losing Shan-fei, and would no doubt have shot on sight the person who divulged the information. Yet now it came to Shan-fei’s notice that Wang had already signed a marriage contract for her daughter, Hsi-chen, with one of his soldiers, and would no doubt rid himself of this excess baggage the moment she matured—perhaps even sooner. The marriage of Hsi-chen was to be expected one day; Shan-fei knew that well enough. But never to one of Wang’s ruthless bandits! For all she knew, the man could be one of his paid assassins!

  Shan-fei then knew that she could submit neither herself nor her daughter to such men. She had but one option left—she must run away.

  Taking into her confidence an old servant she had brought with her to the House of Chu, they together began to devise a plan for her to escape from the clutches of Wang.

  “I must go someplace where they will never think of looking,” said Shan-fei. “Perhaps Peking. I can easily lose myself in such a large city.”

  “You are known there,” said the old woman. “And even rags could not conceal your noble lineage.” Besides these words she spoke, the woman, who had been faithful to the House of Tien all her life, could not bear the thought of innocent Shan-fei and her precious daughter alone and helpless in the cruel city.

  Then she rubbed her wrinkled old lips thoughtfully. “I must tell you a secret, dear Shan-fei,” she said at length, rather cryptically. “I meant not to deceive you. But I must be careful what I say. There are those who would take my life if they knew, and it was difficult for me to speak openly of this. But you see . . . I am a Christian.”

  Shan-fei raised her eyebrows at this startling disclosure, shrinking back a moment from the tender old lady.

  “Why do you tell me this now?” asked Shan-fei.

  “There is a place where they would not think to seek you, and where you will be treated with kindness,” replied the old servant.

  “A church?”

  “Not in Shanghai. Even that would be too dangerous. But a missionary from a station some ninety miles from here comes to the church in Shanghai occasionally to visit. At his mission, I believe you would find refuge.”

  “A mission?” mused Shan-fei, the uncertainty clear in her voice. “But I have heard things—”

  “All lies!” exclaimed the woman, for a brief moment forgetting her station as a servant. “None of them are true. I have heard the stories, too. But you must believe me, you will find nothing but compassion and understanding there.”

  Shan-fei argued no further. She trusted her servant. And the idea seemed assuredly the most promising they had had thus far. Alongside the thought of becoming Wang’s wife, even an unknown mission did not sound so fearsome.

  Over the next several days, Shan-fei made as if to willingly submit to the discretion of Chu for her forthcoming wedding. When the night came for her escape, not a soul in the house suspected a thing. Travel in her crippled condition was difficult, but the servant had arranged everything with Christian friends. She accompanied her far enough to see her safely aboard the junk that would take mother and daughter the first half of the way. Then she hastened back, crept in the way they had left, did what she could to make the final ruse of apparent suicide believable, climbed back into her bed, where she slept the rest of the night through, praying even in her dreams for the safety of her beloved Shan-fei.

  Thus, Shan-fei and her daughter came to Christ’s China Mission in the country village of Wukiang. There, indeed, they discovered the compassion her faithful servant had pro
mised. There too they found a home and a new family, and a new life in the Christ for whom the mission was named.

  And as the wise old woman had predicted, no one gave even a thought to searching for the missing daughter of Tien there. For thirteen years they lived in peace and anonymity. And best of all, they lived in a deep happiness that Shan-fei had feared she would never know again.

  ———

  “But Wang has now found my mother,” said Hsi-chen, as she finished the story, her sad voice tinged with anxiety.

  “She is married now,” said Robbie. “What can he do?”

  “A man like Wang takes what he wants. But it may not be that he would take her at all. He may only be seeking . . . revenge.”

  “After thirteen years?”

  “It is difficult to imagine, I know,” replied Hsi-chen. “But when darkness rules a man’s inner being, evil thoughts and designs are given full freedom to grow and fester and blossom, and length of years only perpetuates the evil.”

  Robbie slowly shook his head. It was odd that one such as Hsi-chen had more wisdom in such matters than he, worldly-wise man that he had always thought himself to be.

  “What will you do?” he asked.

  “My father already has tried to intimidate them by threatening to call in the British.”

  Robbie raised an eyebrow, for he knew Wallace disdained the use of political or military power. Then Hsi-chen added, “It was only—how do you say it?—a bluff. But no matter; it only frightened them away for a while, and now Wang himself is coming.”

  “Well,” insisted Robbie, “Dr. Wallace would be totally within his rights to call in the British Navy. He certainly doesn’t intend to sit by while this blackguard steals away his own wife! Turning the other cheek can only be carried so far!”

  “He will not resort to violence, Robbie. You should know that by now. God will intercede for us.”

  “God!” exclaimed Robbie with frustration. “Do you expect a thunderbolt from heaven or something? Believe me, Wang will laugh in your face if you start to beseech heavenly powers.”

  “Do not scorn the power of God, Robbie.” For a moment Hsi-chen’s eyes flashed and her voice took on a tone very reminiscent of her father’s.

  “I can’t believe in such miracles,” persisted Robbie, though he could not help being a bit stunned by this gentle girl’s change of demeanor. “A man has to fight his own battles,” he went on. “He has to protect those he loves and cares for. A coward waits for the intercession of another.”

  “I will forgive you for your unbelieving words, Robbie,” she said tightly. “I know they come because you are concerned, and because you cannot understand my father or men like him who are willing to be seen as fools to demonstrate the greatest kind of courage of all—trusting in God. Bravery as the world defines it means nothing to him if it interferes with doing the will of God. I think you know by now that my father is no coward.”

  Her voice had been so stern, so intense, her eyes so dark, that Robbie suddenly felt very much alone. Hsi-chen had begun to mean more to him than he dared imagine. Even to think of losing her friendship caused a painful void within him.

  He stopped in their slow walk across the compound. Turning toward her, he grabbed her hands impulsively in his.

  “Hsi-chen . . . I’m sorry! I don’t want you to be angry with me. Your friendship means so much to me.”

  “Dear Robbie, I am not angry. But you must understand how hard it is to have a friend such as you have become, who cannot grasp the things that are the most important to me.” She paused and closed her eyes. Yes, she also dared not think what this man was coming to mean to her. But her reasons were far different than his.

  “Please,” he said earnestly, “help me to understand.”

  “How I want to, Robbie Taggart. But this understanding must come from your heart. And I cannot change your heart.” She glanced down at their hands, still clasped together as if both were desperately afraid to let go. “The very center of my life is not the center of yours. Yet how can I feel so close to you when we are so far apart?”

  “I wish I could make myself change—make myself believe the way you do.”

  “I would not want you to believe for my sake.”

  “I suppose I could not,” answered Robbie dismally, “no matter how much I wanted to. Even I know that would be no belief at all.”

  “I will pray for you,” said Hsi-chen.

  Their hands fell apart. As sincerely as she had meant them, Hsi-chen felt an emptiness in her last words. She wanted them to represent a statement of her faith, but she could not help thinking they seemed but a hollow phrase to Robbie. But whatever they had sounded like, she would pray for him, and pray diligently. And the Lord would answer and would, in His time, give Robbie the understanding he sought.

  They turned in silence and walked slowly back to the residence, each feeling more than they could put into words. Whatever lack of understanding existed, at the same time both deeply sensed something wonderful within, though they were reticent to give it its true and fearsome name. Robbie was afraid of the commitment love might require of him. Hsi-chen was afraid that, even if they were one day of kindred spirits, she had no right to ask love from anyone to whom she could not promise her life in return.

  47

  Interlude

  The next day found Robbie once more atop the residence roof at his seemingly permanent occupation. He was especially thankful for his labors today, for they prevented him from saying and doing and thinking things best ignored for the present.

  That morning he had attempted to reason with Wallace over his passivity. He had even made the mistake of suggesting that he be allowed to go to Hangchow to purchase some rifles. But Wallace had risen up ominously from the chair in which he had been seated. With his eyes dark and a deadly finality ringing in his voice, he quoted as if he were a fiery prophet of old:

  “‘The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them.’ There will be no weapons on this compound, Mr. Taggart!”

  Robbie threw up his hands and without another word marched from the room and to his present labors.

  Was Wallace merely naive to the reality of the approaching danger? Or did he truly believe his words?

  Robbie knew the answer, but would never understand it. Yet he had to admire the man. Despite his statement to Hsi-chen, he did see the doctor’s courage, foolhardy though it might prove to be. He thought back to his first day at the mission. It had taken courage for Wallace to meet with that man he had seen in the distance, if these bandits and their warlord leader were in fact as evil as Hsi-chen seemed to think.

  Could Wallace’s God indeed be capable of delivering them?

  It was the first time Robbie had, from sincerity, asked himself such a question. Wallace was not the kind of man to spend the energies of his life frivolously.

  All at once it seemed to Robbie that this God they were speaking of might actually be more than his own narrow attitudes had given Him credit for being. Could He indeed be the axis upon which the universe turned—the Almighty? Not merely a crutch, a hollow system of belief for the weak, but the source and foundation of everything? “The life stream,” as the Chinese would say? Or, as Wallace had once declared, “The One who alone is worthy”?

  Robbie noticed that his heart was pounding. He was sweating. If all that were true, then Wallace’s God would not be One to be lightly denied, certainly not one to turn your back on. If it were true . . .

  Again, seemingly for the hundredth time, Robbie searched his mind for an answer. “Could it be,” he asked himself again, “could it be true?”

  But no answer came. All he could think was that if someone he loved were in danger, he would have to act! He could not take the stand Wallace had taken. Yet . . . if it were true, then his puny attempts to right the scales of justice would prove pretty inconsequential alongside anything a truly almighty God might himself do.

  If God truly was almighty, Ro
bbie would have to acknowledge Him. What other choice would there be? He would want to acknowledge Him. If he could just be assured that it was all true, it might be possible for him to give his life for Him, as had Wallace and Coombs.

  Without realizing it, Robbie had taken a giant step in his journey toward faith. Admitting to the possibility that truth was being revealed to him was halfway toward the recognition of that truth.

  But still he held back. Even the revelation of an all-powerful God was not enough to convince him. For having recognized the possible claim on his life by an almighty God, he still needed to confront the personal and loving God. Both facets of God’s character were necessary to complete the picture and win Robbie’s seeking heart to Him. He must meet not only the God of power but also the loving God of relationship, who gave His Son that Robbie Taggart himself might live.

  Yet these few steps closer were momentous ones for Robbie, for they signaled giant steps of beginning. Even as he pounded the next nail into the roof, he sensed that he had embarked upon a voyage of discovery such as he had never before taken, fraught with more hidden dangers, and more hidden treasures too perhaps, than any sea voyage of his life. He was no longer merely being carried along by events, but in his heart he was purposefully striking out for himself. For the first time, he wanted to know the truth, whatever he discovered in the process! He must find answers to the questions of life. He knew that now. He could no longer shrug the questions off. And he no longer wanted to.

  Perhaps part of the reason for his new honesty with himself was his desire to find common ground with Hsi-chen. But even that was only a small part of it. For the most compelling question still lay in Isaiah Wallace himself. Wallace was not physically powerful as many men Robbie had known, nor as strong as he himself was. Yet within his character in some unseen, inner reservoir of being, the man possessed a might and fortitude that Robbie had seldom witnessed in other men, himself included. It was a sobering revelation, for Robbie had always considered himself tough enough. Yet Wallace, in some ways a giant of a man beside Robbie, possessed a masculinity that revealed itself in none of the ways it should have. It was all turned upside-down in Robbie’s mind! He had to find out why! And he knew it was intrinsically connected with the God this man served.