Mei Ling wiped her eyes hard, refusing to cry in front of the children, and she stared at Siew until the girl finally nodded.
“You aren’t like her!” Mei Ling announced. Then she stood up and strode a different route toward the store, the children running to keep up with her. She didn’t care if she was frightening them. She was so upset she wanted to scream.
Mei Ling had been right. The fact that woman had met Siew confirmed Suk Suk’s ultimate purpose in bringing her to San Francisco.
She’d walked so fast that she was panting when she arrived at the store. Pausing outside to calm herself, Mei Ling noted that the runners she’d made were no longer in the window display; nor were they close to the front of the store. Mr. Young had spoken the truth: her work wasn’t valuable to him any longer.
They walked to the register. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Young. Please tell him that Mrs. Chinn is here with the gown,” she told the unfamiliar cashier. Annoyance flashed on his face; the man looked her up and down, making her uncomfortable. She averted her eyes and smiled at Bo, who was holding her hand. The man left.
She placed the box on the counter, her heart pounding. They hadn’t spoken of a price; she’d been afraid to ask for fear of seeming greedy and ungrateful, but she had put many weeks of work into this gown. She hoped to get at least seventy-five dollars for all of her hard work; the silk fabric alone had cost fifteen dollars. They needed to make so many purchases to see them through the winter, including warmer clothes and fuel for heat.
“Stay close,” she told the children. Fragile items were displayed all along the aisles. She didn’t want to pay for trinkets damaged by Bo or Siew.
The man returned but didn’t say anything. She waited, feeling awkward.
Eventually Mr. Young came out.
“Hello, Mrs. Chinn,” he greeted her warmly. Then he held out his hands in two tight fists. He opened them slowly. Each palm revealed a small animal carved into wood: a monkey and a tiger. “Take them,” he encouraged the children.
They looked at her, and she nodded her approval. Bo and Siew each bowed with a smile and accepted their gifts. Siew immediately began acting out a scene with her animal, and Bo joined in.
“Let’s see what you have for me.” The man smiled at Siew.
Mei Ling opened the box and carefully pulled the gown out by the shoulders, making sure it didn’t touch the ground. She studied the man’s face. He nodded slightly with his lips pulled down, indicating mild satisfaction.
“It will do,” he said, and he sighed.
Mei Ling hid her disappointment as she returned the gown to its packaging.
Mr. Young picked up the box with a nod and said, “My daughter will appreciate your gift to her on her special day.”
Gift!? This was hours of work and one of Ahma’s precious gold coins. She stood by, stunned as he turned away with the box. She wanted to protest but feared she would alienate her only source of income. If she spoke up, he might stop buying her work altogether.
She looked down and saw Siew staring up at her. The girl was watching to see what she would do.
Mei Ling’s Dragon stirred to life. She remembered June’s assurance that she would find customers in Oakland Chinatown. While she couldn’t entirely count on that, she refused to let this man exploit her in front of Siew.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mei Ling countered. “I must not have been clear. As much as I would like this to be my gift, I must ask for payment for my work. To feed my children. I’m sure you understand.”
He stopped and turned around slowly, his face hard.
“Are you certain about that?” he asked, a slight threat in his voice.
Her heart pounded, and she tasted metal in her mouth. The normally jovial man was angry.
Despite her discomfort at challenging him directly, she nodded and swallowed hard.
“I don’t believe this is worthy of payment,” he declared.
Her head spun, but she replied, “Then it isn’t worthy of your daughter on her special day.” She felt Siew’s hand slip into her own. It gave her strength. June’s certainty about her work gave her courage. She reached out her free hand, arching her eyebrows. The man stared at her. She stared back at him, looking him directly in the eyes, waiting for him to hand her the box.
“Very well,” he said. He pulled out money and placed some on the counter.
She stared at the four five-dollar bills, an insulting amount of money for four months of work that did nothing to assuage her Dragon. She stepped past the counter and grabbed the box from his hand.
“We’re leaving,” Mei Ling said to the children. Her heart pounded fiercely as she stormed through the store. “Be careful!” she hissed to Bo and Siew. Shame and fury burned in her. She’d been foolish to invest so much time and money into this one project hoping for a good return. She’d have to find a buyer. Perhaps it would fit Mrs. Tsou’s daughter, though the colors were wrong.
“Please wait.” A woman’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Mei Ling stopped short. She took a breath before she turned around.
“Let me see.” A woman in her late thirties with hair pulled into a bun walked toward them from the back of the store.
The elegant woman took the box and gently pulled out the gown.
“Remarkable!” the woman exclaimed. “It is stunning, more than worthy of our eldest daughter. She will be as pleased with your work as I am.”
She smiled. The word stunning pierced Mei Ling like a thrilling arrow.
The woman continued, “My husband doesn’t understand the importance, but I do.”
Mrs. Young walked away with the box. Mei Ling stifled a protest as she watched her walk to her husband. She said something to him so quietly that Mei Ling couldn’t understand it, but she heard a hiss in the woman’s voice. He reached into his pocket. Mrs. Young took all of the money and pulled out individual bills. Mei Ling counted as each one was removed. At ten bills a chill ran down her spine. By fifteen she thought her heart might burst. The woman stopped at twenty. Mr. Young’s face was pale.
The mother of the bride returned to Mei Ling.
“Two hundred dollars. Under one condition . . .” She paused to let that number sink in. “You won’t make another for any bride in San Francisco for one year.” Her eyes opened wide and her chin tipped down in a question. She held the money close to her own heart, waiting for Mei Ling’s response.
Two hundred dollars! Mei Ling’s head nearly exploded at the thought of so much money. She nodded in affirmation. The woman held out the bills. Mei Ling took the money from her hand.
“You are very talented. I wish you the best,” Mrs. Young said with a respectful bow. Mei Ling watched her walk past her husband.
Mr. Young shrugged at Mei Ling as if to say he tried, but no hard feelings. Mei Ling wanted to roar at him, but she kept her outward equanimity. She just put the money in her bodice, turned, and walked away from the store.
That man had tried to trick her, to make her believe her work wasn’t of value to him. She nearly believed his carefully crafted lies, but she had bested him and come out ahead. Humble—her mother’s word echoed in her mind. Humility in this situation wouldn’t feed or clothe her children. Pride in her own work and her friend’s faith in her gave Mei Ling the necessary strength to fight for her family.
She looked down at Siew and smiled. Humility hadn’t saved Siew. Mei Ling’s listening to the ghost and persistence had rescued this precious girl from a wretched life. And being honest with her husband. Work hard—yes. Be kind—yes. But Mei Ling was less certain that being humble would always lead to a harmonious life. Like the gown she just made, she might need to be both: Chinese and American.
Her body thrummed in excitement as she walked downhill toward the ferry home. Bo and Siew skipped alongside her, picking up her good mood.
She couldn’t stop smiling as she pictured the look of surprise and delight on Kai Li’s face when she showed him this money. She wouldn’t
squirrel any of it away; instead she would impress him with all of it.
CHAPTER 23
Oakland
September 1924
Mei Ling was startled awake by loud cries. She sighed and went to Siew for the fifth time that night. The girl lay in bed, sleeping with Bo curled up close.
Siew shouted at an invisible demon, “No, no, no. Go away. Leave me alone.”
“You’re dreaming,” Mei Ling soothed. But the girl continued to shake her head and yell, growing more frantic.
Mei Ling patted Siew’s sweaty forehead, but the girl slapped her hand away and yelled, “No!”
Then Siew bolted upright. Panting, she looked around, tears seeping out of the corners of her eyes.
They’d been through this ordeal once or twice most nights in the weeks since Siew lived with them. The sleeping girl couldn’t hide the strong emotions that proved she’d been harmed in the previous year. Mei Ling had quizzed the girl, hoping Siew would disclose more in this half-asleep state than she’d revealed when she was awake. But the little girl responded to Mei Ling’s inquiries about Suk Suk, Bartlett Alley, or who she lived with with a shake of the head. The answers to her most burning questions were lost.
Mei Ling had learned what to do to soothe the agitated girl. “It was a dream. You’re safe now.”
Siew blinked, looked at Mei Ling, nodded, and lay back down. Mei Ling gently rubbed the girl’s hair and whispered the story of the Rabbit Moon into her ear until the soft sounds of sleep came from her.
With the first day of school tomorrow Siew was more anxious than usual, though she didn’t say so during the day. Mei Ling felt a large measure of compassion for the child—and she was exhausted. So she lay down by the seven-year-old, hoping her presence would be soothing enough that all five members of their household would sleep for the rest of the night.
Too soon the morning came. Despite the wakeful night, Mei Ling rose to make tea and jook for Kai Li before he left for work. Then she woke the children up to get Siew to her first day of school on time; no longer could they sleep as long as they wished. Their lives would be controlled by school hours.
Siew bolted into action, getting dressed, washed, and ready to leave in a rush. Mei Ling insisted she sit to eat breakfast, but the girl hardly ate anything. June had told Mei Ling to “pack a lunch” because Siew would be gone through the midday meal, unlike when Mei Ling was in school. Mei Ling filled a metal pail with rice, tofu, and bok choy. She placed a pear in it as well.
With memories of her own schooling bolstering her, Mei Ling set out with the children, excited and hopeful that Siew would enjoy this time of life as much as she had.
As they came closer to the building, they joined a stream of people heading to the same place. The children were dressed in Western clothing, though most of them were Chinese. The boys wore dark pants and the girls were in colorful skirts. Mei Ling was glad she had pulled Siew’s long hair into a bouncy ponytail like so many of the girls wore. She measured Siew’s clothes against the other girls’. The clothes that Mei Ling had sewed for Siew would allow her to fit in, something that had concerned Mei Ling as a young student.
They followed the crowd to the yard and then stopped. Children were marching into already-formed lines of students, but Mei Ling didn’t know where Siew belonged. Her confidence wavered.
They stopped walking and Mei Ling looked around for a hint. Siew stared at her, doubt on her face.
“I will find someone to ask for help, but you will have to ask the question in English. Can you manage that?” Mei Ling asked.
Siew nodded.
Mei Ling saw a blond White woman standing at the front, talking with the students at the head of the line.
They walked up to her. “Excuse me.” Mei Ling said one of the few English phrases that she knew with a slight bow.
The woman replied, “Yes, --- I help ---?”
Mei Ling smiled and looked at Siew.
Siew said, “I ---’- ---- ----- -- --.”
The lady smiled and reached out her arm. “-’- ---- ------.”
Siew bowed, then took the woman’s palm in a Western handshake. “-’- ---.”
The blond asked Siew, “------- -- ------- ------. --- --- --- ---?”
“-----,” Siew replied.
“---- --- --- ---- --- ----- --- -- -- -------- ------,” the woman said. “- ---- ---- -- -- ---- -------, ---- ------. -----, I ---- -- ----- ----.”
Then the woman took Siew’s hand and gestured with her head that Mei Ling should follow them. Shame burned in Mei Ling as she walked behind them. She hadn’t imagined that she would feel so foreign at school. Her mother, having never been a student, must have felt like this—like she didn’t belong. Mei Ling resolved to keep up her English studies at church, even though it was an exceedingly frustrating language and it seemed futile at times.
They were led to the front of a different line, where another White teacher was standing, her brown hair bobbed in the modern fashion. The two women spoke, then the first lady said something to Siew. She waved goodbye to Bo and Mei Ling, then returned to her line.
“Hello, I’m Mrs. Bartley,” the woman said in Cantonese. Relief mixed with surprise at the sound of Mei Ling’s own language coming out of that mouth. “I will be Siew’s teacher this year. Welcome to Lincoln School.”
“Thank you,” Mei Ling replied with a bow. The White teacher bowed back.
“Return here at two thirty,” the woman explained and then turned away from Mei Ling.
They had been dismissed. Mei Ling froze. Siew looked at her from the front of the line, appearing calm to the world, but Mei Ling recognized the hint of alarm in her eyes. She gave a little wave with her fingers, and Siew nodded back, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.
Please watch over her today, Mei Ling asked the ghost, and then she walked away from Siew. Ten paces later, she realized Bo wasn’t at her side. She turned around to see him clinging to his foster sister. The girl crouched down, said something into his ear, and pointed in Mei Ling’s direction. Bo looked at Mei Ling, who pointed sharply at the ground in front of her feet. She would be humiliated further if she were forced to retrieve him.
Slowly he trudged toward Mei Ling, occasionally glancing back at Siew, his protruding lip his only protest. Mei Ling shared his sorrow at leaving Siew behind, so she just took his hand without chastising him. She scanned the playground, hoping to spot June, but didn’t see her friend, so they went home.
The apartment was too quiet without Siew. In only a few weeks it had become so normal to be with her that it was unsettling to be separated. Mei Ling’s mind continuously traveled to thoughts of the girl. Seemingly every ten minutes Bo asked for her. Mei Ling reassured him that they would fetch the girl before the end of the day.
Without Siew to distract and watch the little ones, getting her work done was very difficult. Mei Ling had bought the silk for a new gown after getting measurements from Mrs. Tsou. She needed to begin now because she had already gotten a second order from Mrs. Tsang, an acquaintance at church. True to her word June had found her work by spreading the word in Oakland Chinatown that Mei Ling was available for the “best, best” wedding gowns.
Mei Ling put the children in the bedroom and told them to stay there. Bo stared up at her, looking as if he wanted to protest, but she reiterated her instructions and closed the door. He was going to have to be more responsible.
Through the door she heard Bo bark like a dog, followed by Joy’s giggles. After a pause her son crowed like a rooster, and her daughter laughed again. Mei Ling smiled to herself. Bo was entertaining Joy in the same way Siew had amused him—with the sounds of the animals in the zodiac.
She pulled out the roll of butcher paper and spread it on the ground of the living room, leaving no gaps where dirt could touch the silk. She laid the bright fabric on top of the barrier and then placed a homemade paper pattern on the silk. She weighed it down with smooth, clean rocks, and then very carefully she cut it around
the paper. She finished cutting before lunch. While the children napped she started stitching the seams together. When they woke up it was time to get Siew.
“This is my new friend, Mimi.” Siew beamed as she introduced a petite girl with shiny black hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
“Nice to meet you,” Mei Ling said, glad to see Siew looking so happy after her first day of school.
Bo threw his arms around his sister and patted her back.
“This is my brother, Bo,” Siew explained to her classmate. “And this is Joy!”
Mimi bowed her respect.
“Bye!” Siew said as she waved to her teacher.
“----bye, Siew,” the friendly woman replied. “--- you --------. Goodbye, Mrs. Chinn.”
Mei Ling watched the conversation, feeling self-conscious again. She appreciated that the teacher included her by saying goodbye in Cantonese.
June invited Mei Ling and the children to the park after school. She agreed, even though there was work to be done in the garden at home. She felt like she belonged, gossiping with the other mothers while their children played. Next time she would bring her embroidery so she could be productive and visit with her friends.
As they walked home Siew told Bo about school. She explained about the carpet, the chalkboard, and the names of the students. Once they were in their apartment, she took the younger children into the bedroom to play. Through the open door, Mei Ling listened in on their game. Siew instructed Bo to sit on the ground and spoke to him in English, as if she were the White teacher and they were new students. Mei Ling smiled to herself, remembering that she and Jah Jeh did the same thing so long ago, but not in English. Her heart filled with love for the three children.
Guilt and sorrow rose inside her. It had been too long since she had written to her old home. Her focus on their life in California was so consuming that her family in China didn’t press on her mind and heart as they once had. She’d had a recent letter from them that she had yet to reply to. It was bittersweet to realize that Oakland was more her home and these people were more her family than the ones she had left behind in the village.
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