The Paper Daughters of Chinatown

by Heather B. Moore

  “I’ll be right back,” she told Ah Cheng.

  “No, I’d rather you didn’t reprimand anyone,” Ah Cheng said. “Let it go.”

  Dolly paused. “I’ll check one place, and if it’s not there, I’ll return immediately.” She had a notion where the bouquet might be and who had taken it. She didn’t want to be right, but if she was, she would rather deal with it now than have Ah Cheng face her wedding-aisle walk stripped of what was rightfully hers.

  She hurried to Tien’s bedroom and found the door locked. Dolly knocked softly, and when no one answered, she said through the door, “It’s Miss Cameron, Tien. Can you open the door for a moment? I need to speak with you about something important.”

  A moment later, she heard a shuffling sound. Then the lock turned.

  Tien opened the door a crack. “I’m sick.”

  And perhaps she was, but Dolly said, “We need your help with Ah Cheng’s wedding.”

  Tien’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “We need you to be in charge of the ledger where the guests will sign their names,” Dolly said. “Not all the guests will sign their names because they might not know how to write. You can ask them their name, then write it down.”

  Tien’s brows pulled together. “What if I spell something wrong?”

  “I’ll look at the names afterward with you and see if there should be corrections,” Dolly said. “But you are the only one I can trust with this. Can you come now?”

  Tien hesitated.

  “You get ready, and I’ll see you downstairs very soon.” Dolly stepped back from the door, hoping that she had done the right thing, and that now Tien would do the right thing. “Oh, and if you’ve seen Ah Cheng’s bouquet, can you make sure it gets back to her bedroom? We’re nearly ready to start.”

  Tien wouldn’t meet her gaze, but it didn’t matter. Dolly had done what she could, and in the process perhaps they would all learn something today. Sometimes the most joyful moments for one person brought on deep pain for another.

  Dolly made her way along the corridor, then paused before Kum Quai’s door. Today, Dolly knew, the young woman would have troubled feelings about her own forced wedding. Dolly tapped on the door, and when Kum Quai answered, sure enough, tears stained her face.

  “Oh, my dear,” Dolly said as she pulled the young woman into her arms.

  Kum Quai knew very little English, but there was no language barrier in an embrace.

  Dolly held her for several moments until Kum Quai drew away, a smile on her face despite the tears. “Thank you, Lo Mo,” she whispered.

  Dolly kissed the top of her head; then, with assurance from Kum Quai, Dolly continued downstairs, where she waited with the others for Ah Cheng to appear. When she did, she was radiant. And she was carrying her bouquet.

  The festivities were all that Dolly could hope for, and the guests loved the wedding. Dolly kept an eye on Tien, who took her task with the guest ledger very seriously. Although Tien wouldn’t look at or acknowledge Dolly, likely due to her embarrassment, Dolly was pleased. She could see so much potential in Tien, and Dolly only hoped that one day, the girl blossoming into a young woman would see it too.

  The next morning’s staff meeting was delayed an hour so that everyone could get extra rest. It was strange not having Ah Cheng present, but Yuen Qui was a clever, bright woman who would fill Ah Cheng’s shoes nicely.

  All eyes turned on Mrs. Field as she entered the dining room. She was late, and Dolly found that unusual. She hadn’t been part of the wedding cleanup, but had retired to her room early.

  “I am finished,” Mrs. Field said, standing at the head of the table.

  Dolly furrowed her brows. “Finished with what?”

  “I will be turning in my resignation within the hour.” Mrs. Field then stepped back from the table and left the dining room.

  Dolly stared after her. None of the staff members spoke.

  Yuen Qui was the first to recover. “What happened?”

  Dolly met the woman’s deep brown eyes. “I have no idea. Should I go after her? Perhaps the wedding wore her out, and she’s not thinking clearly.”

  The edges of Yuen Qui’s mouth moved upward. “I think it is time, Miss Cameron.”

  “Time for what?”

  Yuen Qui looked over at the other staff members, who nodded.

  “Miss Culbertson wanted you to be the director here,” Yuen Qui continued in a quiet voice. “We have all been patient under Mrs. Field for three years. Are you ready, Miss Cameron, to assume the position?”

  Dolly could barely comprehend that Mrs. Field had notified them of her resignation. Mrs. Browne had recently resigned from the board as well. And now this? Dolly thought of the changes to her routine that would happen if she took on the directorship, the additional work and responsibility for much more.

  Now, Dolly looked from Yuen Qui to the other staff members and saw only confidence in their gazes. Dolly took careful, measured breaths as her heart rhythm mimicked that of a fluttering bird’s wings. “All right,” she said. “If you’re sure, then I’ll speak to the board.”

  A half laugh escaped Yuen Qui, and she rose from her chair and hurried to embrace Dolly. Soon Dolly was embracing each of the staff members in turn.

  “I’ve no doubt the board will approve.” Yuen Qui wiped the tears from her face. “The girls will be delighted.”

  The scuff of footsteps coming from the far side of the dining room drew Dolly’s attention, and she looked over to see Tien in the doorway. When their gazes connected, Tien gave her a hard stare, then turned away. Perhaps not everyone would be happy about her new commitment.

  Dolly could hardly believe she was willing to take this step herself. She had been at the mission home almost six years, and each year, her feet became more firmly planted on this corner of 920 Sacramento Street. And each year, she forgot bit by bit whatever dreams she might have had before arriving on that foggy morning in 1895. At the mission home, she’d found a new path and a different family—both unexpected and lovely.

  Yuen Qui broke up the circle. “Come, let’s tell the girls in the kitchen. They will be over the moon.”

  Dolly touched Yuen Qui’s arm. “I need to speak to the board first before we can make an announcement, but today, let’s skip classes. I’ll take a few of the girls on an outing so we can enjoy the weather.”

  Yuen Qui smiled. “Which girls?”

  “Whoever is on kitchen duty today.” Dolly knew that would include Tien, but who knew if the girl would agree to the outing if Yuen Qui wasn’t involved?

  When they reached the kitchen, several girls were working to prepare breakfast for all the residents, but Tien was nowhere to be found.

  Yuen Qui clapped her hands together, and the girls in the kitchen turned to look. “Miss Cameron has an announcement, everyone.”

  Dolly met the gazes of the girls, her eyes landing on Lonnie, who was peeling fruit at the far table. “Today after breakfast, we’ll take an excursion. Perhaps a ride on the ferry to Oakland. Who would like to go?”

  Every hand shot up, and a couple of the girls giggled.

  Lonnie rushed to Dolly, never one to hold back her emotions, and wrapped her arms about Dolly’s waist. “Thank you, Mama.”

  As soon as breakfast preparations had been completed and the meal served, Dolly left the mission home with eight little girls in tow, including Leung, Jiao, and Dong Ho. Lonnie insisted on being one who held her hand as they headed for the ferry. Wispy white clouds meandered across the sky, and the sun provided the perfect amount of warmth.

  The ferry was nearly full by the time Dolly embarked with her group, and there wasn’t room for everyone to sit. She was happy to stand at the railing with a few of the girls, Lonnie among them. As they pulled away from the shore, Dolly watched the happenings of the busy city—the sea vessels coming and going, the dock
workers, the tourists, the horses and buggies.

  The breeze tugged at Dolly’s hair beneath her hat as she inhaled the scent of salt and brine. Seagulls screeched nearby, and one of the girls giggled at a brave seagull that landed within a couple of feet of her. Dolly scanned the landscape as they passed it, thinking of her next steps in life. Was she truly prepared to become the director? Would she rise to the occasion and be able to keep everything in balance? Her sisters already told her she worked too hard, and at times Dolly agreed. But when one had a passion, it was hard to not delve in. And the work of the mission home had become a passion.

  She thought of the director assignment from all angles, but it came down to two things: Miss Culbertson’s belief in her before she died, and the warm assurance that kept pricking her skin. Yes, it said. You are prepared.

  That assurance didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous or intimidated. It meant that she could put one step forward, followed by another. She could only do her best. And if the Lord wanted her to be an instrument in this work, then she would rely on Him to make up for her weaknesses.

  She didn’t know the exact number of girls who had been rescued by the mission home so far, but she knew in her heart that there were many more out there. Perhaps some were inside the very buildings she could see from the ferry. Those girls needed to be her focus, not money or other distracting things in life. She would forget herself and go to work.

  “Mama.” Lonnie tugged at Dolly’s skirt. “What would the mission do without me?”

  Dolly held back a laugh and gave the question serious consideration. “I don’t know what the mission would do,” she told the bright-eyed girl. Pulling Lonnie close, Dolly added, “But I know I couldn’t do without you.”

  “It’s my turn to stand by Mama,” Jiao said.

  Lonnie reluctantly moved over, and Dolly smiled. Jiao hadn’t forgotten her mother, Hong Leen, but that didn’t stop her from calling Dolly mama. Dolly wrapped an arm about Jiao’s shoulders, and the girl leaned her sun-warmed head against Dolly’s hip.

  “How long until we get there, Mama?” Lonnie asked.

  “Very soon,” Dolly said for the benefit of all the girls.

  Dolly felt the watchful eyes of the other passengers upon her and her little troupe, but she didn’t mind. It might be unusual to see a white woman with a group of Chinese girls, all of whom called her mama, but Dolly only smiled when inquisitive glances were sent her way.

  As they neared Oakland, Lonnie pointed to the harbor. Beyond, trees interspersed with buildings and homes followed the curve of the hills. “There it is.”

  “You remembered.” Dolly ran her hand over Lonnie’s braid. “What should we do first?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” someone said behind her.

  Dolly turned to see a middle-aged woman wearing a lavender hat set upon her elaborate pompadour. Her clothing was cut in a stylish fashion that told Dolly she was likely a tourist from the East. The woman’s blue eyes were curious. “Are all of these little girls yours?”

  Her tone wasn’t spiteful in the least, but Dolly was sure this question was on everyone’s minds on the ferry, at least among those who were close enough to overhear the group.

  “Yes, they are,” Dolly said.

  The woman glanced at the upturned faces of the girls, who had heard the interchange. The woman touched a hand to her throat. “All of them?” she asked in a quieter voice.

  “All of them,” Dolly clarified, and she shared a smile with Lonnie, who grasped her hand as if to claim her mama.

  The woman’s brows rose. “You . . . are so young to . . .” Her words cut off, and she gave Dolly a tremulous smile. “Well.” She turned then and walked to her seat.

  Dolly reclaimed her place at the rail, surrounded on both sides by her Chinese daughters. At that moment, she knew, despite blood or skin color, these girls were her own. And she was a mother after all.

  The breeze dried her tears before they could spill, and her heart soared with the escaping seagulls as they neared Oakland.

  Today would be a joyous day, and tonight, she would likely have an answer from the board about her future. Tomorrow, Dolly would begin the transition.

  She didn’t sleep that night—couldn’t. The board had agreed to meet with her the following afternoon, and Dolly had gone through a list of names in her mind of people who could assume the majority of her current duties.

  Frances P. Thompson was at the top of the list. As a frequent volunteer at the mission home, Frances had proved trustworthy, and the girls were fond of her.

  By the time the birds were chattering outside her window with dawn’s arrival, Dolly was already up and dressed. She had penned a note to Frances, and as Dolly opened her bedroom door, she was met with the sight of one of the girls curled up on the floor, sound asleep.

  Dolly crouched down and tapped the girl’s arm. “Lonnie,” she whispered. “What are you doing on the floor?”

  Lonnie opened her dark eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.”

  Dolly held back a chuckle. “Couldn’t it have waited until the sun was up?”

  At that moment, Lonnie yawned, then she rose and snuggled against Dolly. “We need to give you a Chinese name.”

  “Oh?” Dolly pulled the girl into her arms and breathed in Lonnie’s sleepy warm scent.

  Lonnie yawned again. “We will call you Lo Mo.”

  Dolly tightened her hold. Kum Quai had called her Lo Mo, and now with Lonnie saying it too, Dolly had never been so honored in her life.

  “Whatever you wish, Yoke Lon,” Dolly said in a tremulous voice, using the girl’s Chinese name.

  Lonnie’s smile was huge.

  “Now, let’s get you back to bed,” Dolly said. “Today is an important day, and you need your rest.”

  “Why is it important?” Lonnie asked.

  Dolly held back a secret smile and drew the girl up by her dainty hand. “You will find out this afternoon.”

  The day sped by, and Frances’s reply came an hour before the board arrived. She would be pleased to take up the position of the new housekeeper. By the time Dolly joined the board, her nerves were buzzing with anticipation, but she felt a confidence that could only be explained as coming from the Creator.

  They met in the chapel, and Dolly walked to the front of the room. Nerves danced along her skin as she stood in front of everyone, hands clasped together.

  “You might have already guessed what I’m about to say,” she began. “I wanted everyone to know that I haven’t made this decision lightly, or just because Mrs. Field resigned. I’ve been thinking about it for years—truly, since Miss Culbertson asked me to consider it.”

  She scanned the faces smiling back at her. Several of the ladies nodded their encouragement. Dolly felt overwhelmed by the support and love in their eyes, especially coming from the women who had championed the mission home in all ways. These women had volunteered countless hours raising funds, petitioning lawmakers, spreading the message of tolerance, educating the deprived. “I’ve come to request the position of the director of the mission home, with your blessing, of course. If you’ve found another, I’ll be happy to continue on as an assistant.”

  “There is no other,” the president said immediately. “I move that we vote now. All in favor?”

  The unanimous ayes that echoed through the room made Dolly feel as if her entire body had been infused with warmth and light. She was not alone in this position, and she would never be alone—not as long as she had the support of these good women and the Lord. And beyond the board meeting, there were fifty Chinese girls and women living in the mission home, many of them dealing with the aftereffects of traumatic events and abuse, yet Dolly didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  After everyone’s votes had been officially recorded in favor of Dolly’s new position, the president spoke of how more people than ever wanted t
o visit the mission home, considering it part of their Chinatown tour. Dolly’s mind spun with new thoughts and ideas—both of how they could benefit from the interest and increased donations, and also of how she could protect the girls who were greatly struggling.

  That night, she fell into a dreamless sleep, only to be awakened a couple of hours later by a knock on her door. Dolly mustered herself out of bed, drew on a shawl, and opened the door to see a wide-eyed Frances standing there.

  “A note has been delivered.”

  Dolly was about to turn and begin dressing, assuming that another slave girl had requested rescue, but Frances’s next words stopped her. “A distinguished guest is on his way.”

  Dolly stilled. “Right now?”

  Frances held out the note. “The messenger is waiting on the porch.”

  Dolly read the words, then nodded. “We need to wake everyone up,” she said. “And we need to give U.S. President William McKinley the warmest welcome possible.”

  “For the consideration of [whatever sum has been agreed upon], paid into my hands this day, I, [name of girl], promise to prostitute my body for the term of ____ years. If, in that time, I am sick one day, two weeks shall be added to my time; and if more than one, my term of prostitution shall continue an additional month. But if I run away, or escape from the custody of my keeper, then I am to be held as a slave for life.

  “(Signed) _____________________”

  —Consignment contract for slave girls arriving from China

  1903

  The man’s breath was foul, his clothing tattered. He was much larger than Mei Lien, yet that didn’t stop her from wrenching out of his grasp and fleeing toward the exit of the building. But the man had the advantage, knowing his way in the darkness. He lunged for her and caught her clothing, dragging her down.

  Mei Lien had hardly eaten in three days, and she didn’t know where her strength came from. But she rolled out from under the man and was once again on her feet. Half running, half limping, she made it to the door.