Night of Many Dreams

by Gail Tsukiyama

  “I love you too,” she said as the line went dead.

  When two grim-faced officers from the Presidio knocked on the front door, Emma had no idea why they were there. She heard, “I’m sorry to inform you…” before her life froze on that April morning in 1965.

  Two days later, Emma was no less paralyzed. Jack had died in a freak car accident just outside Livingston, Alabama. A truck had lost control and careened into the passenger side of the car where Jack was sitting. The worry and anxiety Emma had lived with from the day Jack left melted to nothingness. He died in an accident, not in the terrible war brewing a half a world away. There was no sense to it. A cold, hollow blackness spread through her body, extinguishing any of the colors that filled her life. Emma wanted to cry, to scream, but it was as if her voice had frozen too.

  Wilson and Mrs. O’Leary helped to take care of Emily. They wired her family in Hong Kong, spoke soft words that she could barely hear…need to eat…get some sleep…feel better. Something did flicker in Emma’s heart when Emily crawled up into her lap and said, “Mommy, don’t be sad.” She held Emily tight, felt her warmth that burned at the touch, kissed the back of her neck, unable to look at the face that reminded her so much of Jack.

  The perfume reached her first. The sweet scent of My Sin brought back a rush of childhood memories. Emma suddenly longed for the rich simplicity of Foon’s cooking. The ceaseless clacking of mah-jongg tiles, bowls, and abacus beads filled her head. She remembered walks in Happy Valley along the crowded street stalls that sold everything from potted plants, to bubbling pots of noodles, to rows of hanging ducks with shiny, crispy brown skin.

  Emma stood up, listened harder to the soft murmuring of Wilson talking to someone. Moments later, there was a knock on her bedroom door, a rush of sweet-scented air, followed by Joan.

  “I caught the first plane out when I heard,” Joan said, closing the door softly behind her. “I’m so sorry, moi-moi. I…” She stopped.

  “You’re really here?” Emma asked, surprised at the sound of her own voice, dry and parched as sand.

  Joan put down her handbag, moved closer to Emma. “Yes, I’m here.”

  Emma touched her unwashed hair, the wrinkled shirt and slacks she’d slept in the past two nights, her swollen eyes. “I’m a mess,” was all she could say, her voice breaking.

  Joan opened her arms and wrapped them around Emma and whispered, “It will get easier, I promise.”

  Emma breathed in her sister’s perfume, makeup, the slight oily smell of sweat, the light touch of cashmere. The money-collecting days floated back to her like another life, but here Joan was again, protecting her. Emma saw that Joan was even more beautiful with age, closed her eyes, and blinked them open again. She looked past Joan to the slats of sunlight coming through the half-opened blinds, to the cheap three-way lamp she’d been wanting to give away, to the unmade bed she had shared with Jack. She swallowed, felt something hard inside her suddenly melting, then her entire body trembled as a rush of tears swelled to the surface.

  Chapter 17

  Home Sweet Home—1965

  Auntie Go

  Rows of cars already crowded the Kai Tak Airport by the time their taxi pulled up in front. “We should have left earlier,” Kum Ling mumbled as she clicked her compact closed and dropped it back into her handbag.

  “There’s still plenty of time,” Auntie Go said, paying the taxi driver. “Besides, it’s not as if they don’t know their way around Hong Kong.” Auntie Go laughed, patted Kum Ling’s hand.

  Kum Ling nodded, swung open the taxi door, and stepped out. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” She smoothed down her skirt, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

  Auntie Go smiled and followed her cousin. She knew that Kum Ling had been anxiously waiting for this morning for the past week. When Joan’s telegram had arrived saying she was returning with Emma and Emily, it was the first time Go had seen Kum Ling at a loss for words. She sat down, held out the telegram to Go like an offering.

  Auntie Go’s heart raced. Lately, she’d come to fear the thin yellow sheets with careful, uniform type that brought them more bad news than good. Her eyes glanced over the spare lines.

  “It’s wonderful news,” she said, relieved.

  Kum Ling remained seated. “Was I wrong?” she suddenly asked Go.

  Go knew her cousin meant her disapproval of Jack, the thin years of silence. “Yes,” Go said without hesitation.

  Kum Ling sighed. “I’ve only wanted the best for both my daughters.”

  Auntie Go sat down next to her, faced her cousin with a tired smile. “In the end, Kum Ling, Joan and Emma have found what’s best for themselves. You gave them direction, but they’ve had to find their own way. We all do.”

  “And now?”

  “Don’t look back.” Go smiled. “Just be thankful that we’re all going to be together again.”

  A large crowd already waited outside immigration. Go watched Kum Ling glance nervously from left to right, hoping they hadn’t missed Joan and Emma. Each time the door slid open and people emerged, Kum Ling stood up on her toes, craned her head forward to see. By the time Joan and Emma did appear, it was Auntie Go who spotted them first.

  “There they are,” she whispered to Kum Ling.

  “Where? Where?” She stood straight, craning, pushing her way forward.

  Joan had tied a scarf around her head, wore dark glasses against any reporters watching for her. Emma walked next to her, thinner than Go remembered, looking tired, fragile. She held on to the hand of Emily, who, except for her darker coloring, resembled Kum Ling.

  Auntie Go stood back, let Kum Ling reach them first, throw her arms around Emma, say over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  When Emma finally pulled away, she stepped over to Auntie Go for a quick hug, then smiled. “And this is Emily.”

  “Pao pao?” Emily asked, looking at both Kum Ling and Auntie Go.

  “She knows me already!” Kum Ling said happily.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Joan said, pushing the cart ahead of them as someone’s camera flashed in her face.

  Foon was waiting at the door when they arrived at the flat, her gold tooth still glinting as she smiled and patted Emily on the head. Then she took Emma’s hand and held it for just a moment before letting go.

  “Made all your favorites,” Foon said. Not looking at Kum Ling or Auntie Go, she hurried back to her kitchen.

  “It’s nice to see some things don’t change,” Emma said as Foon disappeared into the kitchen.

  At dinner that night, Auntie Go watched the smiling faces of Kum Ling and her nieces as they sat around the dining room table. The room was alive with voices. The almost fifteen years they were apart dissolved into the rich aromas of Foon’s cooking. One by one all of Emma’s favorite dishes covered the table—the diced chicken and salt-fish fried rice quickly becoming Emily’s favorite also. She ate two bowls and held out her bowl for more.

  “Aii-ya, she is a good eater,” Foon said happily.

  “Another one to follow in your footsteps,” Joan said.

  “Don’t encourage her,” Mah-mee snapped, then caught herself and also held out her bowl for more rice.

  After dinner Joan stood up from the table. “I’d better be going. Chin expects me at the studio tomorrow. He has another script he wants me to look at.” Joan leaned over and gave Emily a big hug, squeezed Emma’s arm.

  “How can I ever thank you,” Emma said, standing. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come to San Francisco. Your wonderful cooking, all the gifts—”

  “You’re my sister,” Joan interrupted, giving Emma a quick hug.

  Emma held tight. “The gods have been good to me,” she whispered.

  “To both of us.” Joan pulled away and said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Mah-mee cleared her throat, her eyes soft and liquid. “Let’s walk Auntie Joan out and then get you settled into bed,” she said, taking Emily’s han
d. Emily turned around, watched Emma, who nodded for her to go along.

  “Well, that leaves us,” Auntie Go said.

  Emma smiled. “At last.”

  Emma followed Auntie Go into the living room. Go watched as Emma moved around the room like a ghost, touching a vase, stroking a silk cushion, playing a chord on the piano. She looked blankly out to the terrace.

  “It seems like yesterday,” Emma said, “when I looked out to see Japanese warships filling the harbor. I can still hear the static strains of ‘Home Sweet Home’ they blared across the island. Now I hardly recognize Hong Kong. So many new buildings.”

  “More every day,” Auntie Go said. “Nothing stands still here. Not for long anyway.”

  “How are you?” Emma asked, sitting down beside Auntie Go.

  Auntie Go smiled. “Cutting back at the Western Wind, getting older by the day.”

  “I’ve always told Emily all about you. You were my Auntie Go, the Iron Maiden, so full of courage! I think Emily always liked your story best.”

  Auntie Go laughed. “What kind of lies are you putting in that child’s head!”

  Emma took Auntie Go’s hand. “I just want her to appreciate what a strong and wonderful person you are. I’m glad we’re here, so she can learn to treasure her family, and see Hong Kong.”

  “So you’ll be staying?”

  Emma nodded with a smile. “For now, so Emily can get to know Mah-mee and you. You should see how much she loves her auntie Joan already! Maybe we can even visit Lia in Macao. And I’d like to spend some time at the Western Wind with you.”

  Auntie Go’s heart raced. She’d long ago given up on the idea of one of her nieces taking over the Western Wind. Now the words startled and surprised her. She squeezed Emma’s hand, glimpsed the gold ring with some sort of insignia on her index finger. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

  Emma laughed. “Let’s see if you still feel that way in a few months.”

  “Months or years wouldn’t change a thing!” Auntie Go rose from the sofa. “I suppose it’s time for this old lady to be getting home to bed.”

  “Let me walk with you.” Emma stood. “I’ll just be a minute.” She hurried to her bedroom and returned carrying a rolled-up piece of paper, smiling. “Let’s go. Mah-mee seems to have Emily under control.”

  The night air was warm. In a month, the humidity would be up and Hong Kong would be stifling. Auntie Go grasped Emma’s arm, moved slower, her bad knee making it much more difficult for her to fly long distances. Even now, it felt stiff and inflexible. Emma didn’t seem to notice and matched pace with her.

  “I’m so sorry about Jack.” Auntie Go’s voice filled the night air. Go would say it just once and no more. She felt Emma’s arm stiffen.

  “I still can’t believe he’s gone….” Emma’s voice was strained. She held up her hand with the gold ring. It glimmered in the darkness. “It was his,” she finally said. “You would have liked him.”

  “I’ve never doubted it.” Auntie Go stopped in front of her flat and fell silent.

  “I realized as we were driving back here that part of me will always remain in San Francisco. I’ve grown up there, and it’s a place I want Emily to know. It will always be where her father is,” Emma said, her voice softening.

  “Of course.” In the near distance, a child’s laughter filled the air.

  “But I need to be home now, with all of you.”

  A distant memory flickered through Auntie Go’s thoughts. She wanted to say something about the past, about how people never really leave no matter where you are. Their spirits stay with you, comforting, guiding you through the long years of life. But there would be plenty of time for that in the days ahead.

  “Are you all right?” Emma asked.

  “I’m fine.” Auntie Go smiled. “And so will you be. Now, you better get back to that beautiful little girl of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave Emma a hug.

  “Oh, this is for you.” Emma handed Go the rolled-up piece of paper.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll see when you get inside.” Emma smiled.

  Auntie Go watched Emma turn around and walk quickly back up the street. Go slowly made her way up the stone steps to her flat and clicked on the light. The soft glow cast comforting shadows around the room. She unfurled the piece of paper to see a splendid charcoal drawing of Emily. It felt light, uncomplicated, in her hands.

  A Reading Group Guide

  Joan is the “beautiful” sister, and Emma is the “smart” sister. How do these designations influence each character’s sense of self?

  What happens to the landscape and businesses of Hong Kong at different stages: prewar, war, reconstruction, and postwar boom? What impact does the changing landscape of Hong Kong have on the characters, especially Auntie Go, Joan, and Emma, throughout the book?

  Macao is almost a magical refuge for Emma, as well as an important place for Auntie Go and Joan. What does Macao represent for each character?

  Joseph Wong is the first seemingly suitable match for Joan. Not only does Joan fall in love with him, but so do Emma and Kum-Ling—each in her own way. What promise does Joseph represent to the various women?

  Joan becomes passionate about cooking after she and Joseph break up. Kum-ling is angry about her desire to cook. Why is this? And how does Joan show that cooking is important to her?

  How is marriage defined within the elite Hong Kong circles? What does the game of mah-jongg fulfill for Kum Ling and her friends?

  How does Auntie Go perceive her own social position, both within the immediate family and in Hong Kong society? How do Emma and Joan perceive Auntie Go?

  Joan’s passionate and illicit affair with her director, Edward Chung, enlivens her acting in their movie, A Woman’s Story. How does the character she plays help her understand her own experiences?

  Joan and Emma’s father is generally silent. What do we learn about his relationship with Auntie Go at the scene of his death? What releases him from this world?

  How does the voyage to San Francisco affect Emma? In her first taxi ride around town, how does she perceive the landscape of the city? In what ways does the city change Emma—in her own mind and in the minds of her family?

  For more reading group suggestions, visit

  www.readinggroupgold.com

  Also by Gail Tsukiyama

  The Street of a Thousand Blossoms

  Dreaming Water

  The Language of Threads

  The Samurai’s Garden

  Women of the Silk

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  NIGHT OF MANY DREAMS. Copyright © 1998 by Gail Tsukiyama. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Tsukiyama, Gail.

  Night of many dreams / Gail Tsukiyama.

  p. cm.

  ISBN: 978-0-312-19940-1

  1. Sisters—China—Hong Kong—Fiction. I. Title

  PS3570.S84 N54 1999

  813′.54—dc21

  98-50903