The Paper Daughters of Chinatown

by Heather B. Moore

  “Of course.” Dolly cast him a small smile. “Kum Quai hadn’t been with us very long when those men came to fetch her, but all of those girls are like daughters to me. I would have chased after any of them.”

  Charles gave a low whistle. “You’re out there fighting for justice for helpless women and children. You’re walking into danger every day, while the rest of us are . . . sitting at desks and listening to stuffy professors.”

  Dolly stilled. She didn’t want accolades. Rescuing those girls wasn’t about her and never would be. She kept her gaze on the ragged silhouette of the Sierra Madres because she didn’t want to see the awe in Charles’s eyes. She’d seen it in others, and it just didn’t feel right. Yes, she was a conduit, but the work was made possible by the work of many faithful women, loyal police officers, honorable lawyers, and generous donations from people all over the nation.

  “There is nothing else I’d rather be doing,” she said at last. “It’s truly been a privilege to work at the mission home.”

  Charles was quiet for several moments; then he said, “My brother is saving souls, you are saving souls and lives, and I . . .”

  At his pause, she finally turned to look at him. His blond hair was no longer bright since the sun had set, but that didn’t diminish his charisma or the warmth of his eyes in the least.

  When their gazes caught, he finished with a half smile, “When you began working at the mission home, I was pushing men around a football field and chasing after pigskin.”

  “If you love the sport, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Charles placed a hand over his heart. “I do declare, Miss Cameron, that you flatter this old heart.” He leaned close, and Dolly tried not to let her thoughts scatter. “I’ll hold onto that small compliment, but believe me, your courage and stamina are the true wonders.”

  Dolly didn’t look away from his green eyes this time. She saw admiration, yes, but more importantly, sincerity. “Nothing I’ve done in my life has been entirely thought out and deliberate,” she said. “One thing after another happened, and somehow events fell into place.”

  Charles’s stare was incredulous. “Do you think that if any other woman had started working at the mission home, all of the miracles would have still taken place?”

  With no hesitation, Dolly said, “Of course.”

  Charles didn’t speak for a moment, which was making her more nervous than anything.

  Then he grasped her hand. If Dolly had thought she’d felt fluttery around him before, his fingers wrapped around hers created a sensation like a flock of birds startling from a grove.

  “No, Dolly,” Charles said, his tone insistent. “You are the difference. I can hear the love and enthusiasm in your voice. This is not merely a job for you. Those Chinese girls call you Lo Mo for one reason only. You’re like a mother to them.”

  Dolly wanted to refute his bold statement, but she couldn’t speak over the sudden tightness of her throat. And with his hand still holding hers, she was feeling things that she wasn’t sure how to identify. It was as if their connection had been almost instant, and it only grew stronger by the moment.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” Charles asked. “I want to spend time with you. We could go for a ride. Or a walk. Or go to a restaurant and have lunch or dinner.”

  Dolly’s heart pressed into her throat. “I return to San Francisco tomorrow. I can’t stay away too long.”

  He squeezed her hand gently. “Of course you can’t. What about next weekend? Would you turn away a visitor if he showed up on your doorstep?”

  Dolly’s smile bloomed. “I would not turn away such a visitor.”

  The front door to the house creaked open, and Charles released her hand.

  She looked over at Mrs. Bazatas. If she had noticed they’d been holding hands, she didn’t comment on it.

  “Dessert is served,” Mrs. Bazatas said, her tone cheerful. “Ben said it’s your favorite, Dolly.”

  Dolly felt Charles’s gaze on her, and guilt pinged her heart. Ben. It wasn’t as if they had any sort of understanding. There had been only friendship between them. But now, after meeting Charles, Dolly could never imagine herself with Ben. And surely Ben had noticed.

  “Thank you,” Dolly told Mrs. Bazatas.

  Half an hour later, Dolly walked with her sister’s family back to their home in the darkness. The temperature was mild, and the cooling breeze felt nice on Dolly’s still heated cheeks. Caroline was being carried by her father, and her head bobbed against his shoulder as she slept.

  “You’re quiet,” Jessie said as they walked side by side.

  Dolly exhaled slowly, choosing her words carefully. But she was positive that Jessie had already noticed enough.

  “Charles is going to visit me in San Francisco.”

  Dolly felt the warmth of her sister’s smile cross the distance between them. “You like him.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I do,” Dolly admitted. There was no use denying it. She liked Charles Bazatas, and that fact alone made her future look much different.

  “[My owner] used to make me carry a big fat baby on my back and make me to wash his diapers. And you know, to wash you have to stoop over, and then he pulls you back, and cry and cry. Oh, I got desperate, I didn’t care what happened to me, I just pinched his cheek, his seat, you know, just gave it to him. Then of course I got it back. She, his mother, went and burned a red hot iron tong and burnt me on the arm.”

  —Tien Fu Wu

  1901

  Dolly ran a brush through her hair with a trembling hand. She was more than nervous, if she were to admit it. Charles Bazatas would be at the mission home in only a few minutes, and she had already delayed in her bedroom long enough. Quickly, she pinned her thick hair up, then rose to her feet and surveyed her appearance in the half mirror.

  Would he notice the blush on her cheeks or her too-bright eyes?

  No matter. The weather was warm, the clouds wispy, so she opted to forgo a shawl or jacket. And she wanted to be the one to open the front doors. The girls were already abuzz with the news. Despite herself, Dolly had been unable to keep it from her staff members, which now included Tien.

  Dolly left her bedroom and found no fewer than a dozen girls waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Her cheeks flushed hotter now that she would have quite the audience when Charles arrived.

  He was late by about twenty minutes, but the moment his knock sounded on the door, Dolly immediately forgave his tardiness. He grinned as she welcomed him into the foyer, and the Chinese girls suddenly became shy.

  “Well, hello, everyone.” Charles swept off his hat and dipped his chin into a nod.

  “Hello,” the girls chorused, and Dolly held back a laugh at their curious eyes.

  Lonnie stepped forward first, holding out her hand as if she had all the confidence in the world. “I’m Yoke Lon.”

  “Nice to meet you, Yoke Lon,” Charles said, giving her hand a very formal shake.

  Then the other girls crowded around him, also wanting to shake his hand. The younger ones turned into instant chatterboxes, asking him where he was from, how tall he was, and Dong Ho asked in her sweet voice if he’d ever played the game Tiu-u.

  “It’s like dominos,” Dong Ho said.

  Charles chuckled. “I can’t say that I have played your version, Dong Ho, but I’d sure like to learn some time.”

  Dong Ho’s face bloomed red, and she scurried behind another girl.

  Charles only winked at Dolly. “Well, if you ladies don’t mind, Miss Cameron and I had better be going. We have reservations, you see.”

  The girls tittered, and even Tien smiled, although she stayed in the background.

  Gallantly, Charles extended his arm, and Dolly slipped her hand around his forearm. Charles replaced his hat, and together they walked out the door to the waiting
buggy.

  Charles handed Dolly into the buggy, then turned to wave at the girls crowding the doorway. When he settled into the buggy and tapped the ceiling so that the driver would pull away, he looked over at Dolly. “That was something. It’s plain they adore you.”

  His observation warmed Dolly to her toes. “They were certainly enamored of you, Mr. Bazatas,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them quite this animated with a guest before.”

  Charles’s dark green eyes hadn’t left her since the buggy had started moving. “It’s good to see you.”

  The sincerity in his voice made her pulse dance. “And it’s good to see you. I hope your journey was uneventful.”

  Charles didn’t answer right away because he was gazing at her quite intently. “Everything was fine. I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long to come visit.”

  “You’re busy,” she said. “I’m busy. That’s life.” They had written letters, and he had even telephoned once. But until he knocked on the door of 920 Sacramento, she wasn’t sure that what was happening between them was entirely real.

  Yet here Charles Bazatas sat. Right across from her. In the flesh. His green eyes were just as she remembered, and his tousled blond hair practically begged for her to smooth it back.

  He reached across the space between them and grasped her hand. “Did I tell you that it’s good to see you?”

  “You did.” She loved his smile. The humor in his eyes. The energy that practically hummed from him. And now he was holding her hand, and she was enjoying it very much.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he said. “We’re going to a nice restaurant for a five-course meal.”

  “It’s the middle of the day.” Her protest was weak even to her own ears.

  “I want to keep you to myself as long as possible,” he said. “Although I do wish I could stay another day.”

  Dolly was very much wishing he could stay longer too.

  The afternoon sun had slanted against the buildings by the time they reached the restaurant.

  True to his word, Charles ordered a five-course meal. There was no way Dolly could eat everything brought to her, but she at least tried each dish. Conversation with Charles was easy, and she found herself laughing most of the time at his stories of college, of his football team, but then the conversation turned sober when he asked her about the articles he had read.

  “Tell me about Yute Ying,” Charles asked.

  Dolly set down her dessert fork. She could hardly eat another bite of the lemon cake anyway. “We rescued Yute Ying from a tenement house between Stockton and Dupont. The place is horrifically overcrowded. We found the ten-year-old preparing breakfast for her owners. Her appearance alone told us of the abuse and neglect she’d suffered.”

  Charles’s forehead creased. “And now she’s doing well?”

  Dolly sighed and looked down at her plate. “Yes. We won the case.” She met Charles’s gaze. “Yute Ying was with us for a year. She thrived at the mission home. Her eyes became clear, her hands, cracked and bleeding hands from so much work, healed, and she learned to smile.”

  Charles reached for Dolly’s hand across the table and squeezed.

  Dolly took comfort in the warmth of his touch and the compassion in his eyes. “All kinds of Chinese relatives suddenly surfaced after Yute Ying’s rescue. They pressed charges against me and the mission home.”

  “Unbelievable,” Charles murmured.

  “I’ll never forget Yute Ying as she stood in front of the grand jury,” Dolly said. “She was courageous as she testified of what she had experienced and suffered.”

  “It’s hard to believe girls that young are brought from China for the slave trade,” Charles said in a quiet voice.

  “It’s awful,” Dolly said. “The stories of the younger girls are even more tragic, since they are kidnapped from their families, or desperate parents are lied to. We try to do everything in our power to rescue the younger girls before they age and are sold into prostitution. When the authorities visit the mission home, they are greeted with the true purpose of our mission and how much the girls are thriving. The girls become educated and gain employable skills with us.”

  Charles ran his thumb over her hand. “I can’t imagine what you face each and every day. I’m glad the authorities are giving these girls a chance to testify for themselves.”

  Dolly took a sip of her drink. “Not all court appearances have a happy ending. Testifying can be traumatic for the girls, and some of them shut down.”

  “They won’t speak?”

  “Correct,” Dolly said. “One of our girls, Yoke Hay, was rescued from a Chinese doctor who owned her. He had already sold an older servant girl to a house of ill fame in Fresno. So I got a warrant for Yoke Hay, and she appeared before a judge.”

  Charles nodded for her to continue.

  “Of course, in the courtroom, there sat the angry doctor and his wife, with all their friends.” Dolly exhaled. “Yoke Hay froze. She refused to repeat the story that she had told us through our interpreter. The judge was forced to return her to the man who had falsely claimed to be her father.”

  Charles didn’t say anything for a moment, and Dolly’s emotions crept to the surface. Thankfully, the restaurant was nearly empty, and no one seemed to be paying them much attention.

  “I’m sorry for Yoke Hay,” Charles said at last. His gaze filled with admiration as he squeezed her hand. “But your work is truly saving and changing lives. It’s amazing to think about, and it makes me want to do something different with my life. Something where I can be an instrument in helping other people.”

  Dolly gave him a small smile. She had heard him talk about this before in his letters, and she half expected him to move to San Francisco and join the board of the mission home. But what he said next couldn’t have surprised her more.

  “I’ve decided to enter the ministry like my brother,” Charles said.

  She could only stare at his beaming face. “You’re leaving your job?”

  “Yes, and I’ll be entering the seminary at Princeton,” he continued. “I received my acceptance letter yesterday.”

  Dolly opened her mouth, but she couldn’t come up with a response.

  Charles stood and extended his hand. “Come, I see I’ve shocked you. Perhaps we can walk for a bit and discuss it.”

  Heart in her throat, Dolly stood and took his offered hand. Her mind whirled at the thought of Charles leaving California and traveling all the way to New Jersey. They would be so far apart; all communication would have to be long distance.

  Charles led her out of the restaurant after cheerfully bidding farewell to their waiter. Dolly didn’t feel cheerful at all. Yes, she admired Charles for his decision, and she could tell that it filled him with a renewed purpose. But what would it mean for them? Was there even a them for her to mourn over?

  They walked slowly toward the harbor, and Dolly tried to look on the positive side of things. Heaven only knew that was how she survived every day at the mission home. Focusing on the tender mercies and the smallest of triumphs allowed her to move forward one day at a time. Charles really wanted to find a way to serve, and this was a natural way to do it.

  They rounded the block, and the bay came into sight. Up ahead, seagulls filled in the silence that had fallen between them. They continued onto the pier, their footsteps echoing on the wooden walkway. Charles stopped at the railing overlooking the marina. The wind was stiff, but the day was still warm. Regardless, Charles shrugged out of his jacket and set it across her shoulders.

  The feel of his jacket was like being held by him, which only made her eyes burn.

  “New Jersey sounds like a lifetime away,” she said at last.

  Charles turned to face her, his back against the railing—reminding her of that first night they had talked on his mother’s porch. “Believe me, I’ve thought o
f it from all angles, and I decided to leave it in the Lord’s hands. If I got accepted at the Presbyterian seminary, then I would go.”

  Dolly lifted her chin, gazing into his green eyes. Everything about Charles was so . . . alive and warm. And she would miss him, terribly. But who was she to stop him, to ask him to stay? “How long is the training?”

  “A few years. I’m entering the ministry and obtaining a master’s in divinity and theology.” He lifted his hand to tuck some of her blowing hair behind her ear. “And it won’t make me a rich man.” His tone was light, and she wondered if he was keeping it that way for her benefit.

  “Money isn’t everything, right?” she said.

  “I think we could be very happy without much of it, darling.” His smile was soft as his gaze scanned hers, as if he were memorizing every detail of her face, and perhaps he was.

  “It’s only a few years, right?” she said. “It’s not like I’d be pining for you anyway. I am very busy.”

  He chuckled. Then his expression grew more serious than she had ever seen it. “Donaldina Cameron, what will I do when I miss you?”

  She gave him a half smile, although it felt like her heart was cracking bit by bit. “Write to me?”

  He nodded, then leaned forward.

  She hadn’t expected him to kiss her, especially in the middle of the day, and in public, no less. But it seemed that Charles had no such qualms. His hands settled at her waist and pulled her close. His kiss was warm, brief, and over within a moment.

  But Dolly knew she would never forget it.

  When he released her, he slid his fingers into hers. “We’ll see each other soon; you’ll see. I’m already saving my pennies.”

  Dolly doubted he had many pennies to begin with, but she smiled anyway. She wanted to enjoy every last second and minute with this man before she had to say good-bye.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Three weeks,” he said.

  Dolly’s heart twinged. She exhaled slowly, then smiled. “You will help many people.”

  “I can only hope.”

  They continued to walk along the pier, and Dolly felt the weight of each passing moment, counting down to their final farewell.