The Paper Daughters of Chinatown

by Heather B. Moore

  “We planned our raid carefully in advance. ‘But how can we get in without chopping down the doors?’ Miss Cameron asked me. An eighteen-year-old slave girl named Yum Gue was held prisoner, Miss Cameron had heard from a very much frightened Chinese girl, and she was afraid they would escape by means of some secret exit.

  “I recalled that there was a skylight in the roof of the house that was left open during the day. I believed that it only dropped closed and was not locked during night time, so we planned to try to get through that.”

  —Sergeant John Manion, Women and Missions magazine, 1932

  1904

  Mei Lien gazed out the narrow window of her bedroom in the mission home. Outside, the sun shone, the people walked along the street, the trees swayed in the wind, and the clouds raced across the sky. But it was not her life. The outside belonged to others.

  She did not leave her room. She did not speak to the other girls. When Tien Fu Wu came to visit, Mei Lien listened to the young woman’s advice, but she could not bring herself to go to the dining room. Or to enter the kitchen. When Miss Cameron invited her to church services for her Christian God, Mei Lien could not betray her mother and ancestors.

  Mei Lien’s soul was black. The stain of her sins could never be washed away, no matter what Miss Cameron told her.

  Mei Lien might have survived, but she was not alive.

  Beyond the window, she watched a woman holding the hand of a young girl as they walked along the street at a brisk pace. They were not Chinese, and Mei Lien had never seen them before, but she could almost feel the connection between the mother and daughter.

  Mei Lien did not expect to see her mother ever again. Perhaps she had believed at one time that it might be a possibility. Her husband would send money and bring her mother to San Francisco. Or she and her husband, along with their two small sons, would visit Hong Kong.

  But there was no husband. No future.

  And she didn’t know if the child growing in her belly would be a boy, but he would be born to a mother who had nothing. Who was nothing.

  Hot tears pricked her eyes, and Mei Lien was surprised yet again that she could cry anymore. She turned from the window. Today it was hard to even look at the life beyond, a life she would never have. She sank onto her bed and pulled her knees up to her chest until she was as small as she could possibly be. Beneath her mattress, she had hidden the pearls from Huan Sun. Right now, she did not feel worthy enough to wear them.

  She had brought punishment to her mother. Surely the tong had already acted. And Huan Sun. He’d helped her, and now who knew what had happened to him?

  A tear slipped down her cheek as she thought about her child. Soon enough, her belly would grow, and she could no longer keep it a secret. Soon enough, her rescuers would realize how far Mei Lien had truly fallen. How much of a burden she was.

  Mei Lien closed her eyes, hoping for sleep to numb her. The sounds of young girls sweetly singing rose from one of the lower floors. She hadn’t wanted to see any of the other rooms in the house. After her bath that first night, Mei Lien had stayed in this small space of a room, which wasn’t much larger than the storage room where she’d been kept imprisoned. But this room wasn’t a physical prison. The window let in the sunlight. The door was never locked from the outside. She didn’t have to entertain any men.

  This room was a different prison—one in which she had plenty of time to remember. The darkness. The hopelessness. And what might have been if only she and her mother had turned away the emigration agent. Yes, she and her mother had been poor, hungry, tired. Now, that seemed such a small thing. Now, Mei Lien knew that life could be much, much worse.

  The melody of the singing below pushed its way into her room, tried to enter her soul and soften the hardness there. Dispel the darkness. But Mei Lien pushed back. She didn’t want to feel happiness. She didn’t want to accept the light. Somehow she knew that once she comprehended all that she had lost and all that she’d endured, the pain would be too much to bear.

  “Mei Lien?” a quiet voice said outside her door.

  She didn’t answer. Perhaps if Miss Cameron thought she was asleep, she would be left alone. But the woman was persistent, as usual, and the next thing Mei Lien knew, Miss Cameron had turned the doorknob and walked into the bedroom.

  Her smile was soft, her footsteps sure, and behind her was a Chinese girl who gazed at her with wide, curious eyes.

  Don’t stare at me, Mei Lien wanted to say, but she found that she was curious too. The girl settled on the bed only a short distance away.

  “This is Yoke Lon,” Miss Cameron said in stilted Chinese, sitting on the single chair in the room.

  “Lonnie,” the girl said immediately.

  Miss Cameron chuckled softly.

  “Lonnie is my English name.” The girl nodded vigorously, causing her two braids to bounce along her shoulders. “Thank you for letting me in your room.”

  Mei Lien didn’t remember “letting” anyone inside her room, but she said nothing. Lonnie acted as if coming into her room were a perfectly natural thing.

  “When Lo Mo grew tired of my many questions about you, she said it was time for me to ask you myself.” Lonnie smiled at Miss Cameron, then crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap.

  Lo Mo . . . Mei Lien had heard the name spoken from the corridor about Miss Cameron. Mei Lien supposed the woman was like a mother to some of the younger girls, and the affection and respect in Lonnie’s tone were unmistakable.

  “Can I ask you questions?” Lonnie pressed.

  No, Mei Lien thought. I do not want to answer questions. I do not want to tell anyone what has happened to me. She shook her head, and again, Lonnie wasn’t bothered.

  “All right, if I can’t ask questions, I will tell you about myself. I came to Lo Mo’s when I was about six,” Lonnie continued. “My parents were very poor, and they were promised that I would have a good home and a full belly if they let me come to America. My new mistress was very cruel.”

  Lonnie rose from the bed and crossed to the window. She peered out and released a sigh. “Sometimes I look out the window and wonder why I went through the things I did. Why can’t I be like those people out there?”

  Mei Lien found herself nodding.

  “But then I remember my old life,” Lonnie continued in a quiet voice. “I remember the beatings and being hungry all the time. If Miss Culbertson hadn’t rescued me, where would I be now?”

  Mei Lien’s eyes burned with tears. She knew the answer.

  Lonnie turned from the window, her own eyes shining with tears. “I would be dead. I am sure of it.” Her face glowed with a smile that was both sad and triumphant. “To my very bones, I know that if I had not been rescued when I was, I would have joined my ancestors. But I am here. I’m alive, and I have a second chance to become something that never would have been possible.”

  Mei Lien returned her gaze to her clasped hands. Lonnie’s words reverberated inside her chest. She knew that all the girls staying in this house must have come from somewhere and must have been through experiences similar to hers. But hearing Lonnie speak of her past so openly had made Mei Lien feel less . . . different.

  She met Lonnie’s brown eyes. In them, she saw the warmth, the acceptance, the nonjudgment.

  “They lied to me, too,” Mei Lien said in a quiet voice, the first words she had spoken since Miss Cameron and Lonnie entered. “From the first promise to my mother, they lied. They offered her money for her sacrifice of giving me up. They promised that I would be married to a wealthy man looking for a wife.”

  Mei Lien didn’t realize tears were falling until Miss Cameron handed over a handkerchief. Mei Lien pressed the cloth against her cheeks.

  Lonnie sat next to her on the bed again, this time closer. When Lonnie rested a hand on her shoulder, Mei Lien felt something she had never felt before in he
r life. This was what it must be to have a sister.

  Mei Lien told her story in bits and pieces, stringing the events of the last several months together as best she could. She left out some of the harder, darker things, but there was no need to explain those in detail. By the knowledge in Lonnie’s eyes, and the understanding and compassion in Miss Cameron’s, Mei Lien knew both women heard all the words she couldn’t speak.

  “You have a second chance here,” Miss Cameron said at last when Mei Lien had explained how Zhang Wei had caught up with her in the end, just when she thought she could escape and work for the laundry woman. “There are many things to learn, and no one will ever think less of you because of what you’ve been through.”

  Mei Lien had heard these words from Tien Fu Wu and Miss Cameron before, but with Lonnie sharing her story, slowly Mei Lien allowed herself to believe.

  “I am grateful . . .” Her voice cracked, and she tried again. “I am grateful for the risks you’ve taken for me.”

  “It was our honor,” Miss Cameron said. “You will be a wonderful asset to the mission home.”

  Mei Lien didn’t know how. But she was tired of being tired. Tired of the heavy weight upon her chest and the deep ache in her stomach. For a few moments, with Lonnie here, she had felt lighter somehow. Less alone.

  “Come to the kitchen,” Lonnie said. “I’ll show you how to make almond cookies. They’re my favorite.”

  Mei Lien had only had almond cookies a few times in her life. They were a luxury her mother couldn’t afford very often. Ah-Peen Oie had served them at the banquets, and Mei Lien had tried them there. “Is there a special occasion?” Will there be a lot of people coming? was her real question.

  “No,” Lonnie said. “The housekeeper allows us to bake anytime as long as we don’t have class and we clean up after ourselves.”

  Mei Lien looked over at Miss Cameron for confirmation, and she nodded.

  “Are there a lot of other residents down there?” The thought of leaving the confines of this room, of being around many others in a bigger space, still made her want to lock her bedroom door.

  “Everyone is at their lessons,” Lonnie said. “We will be the only ones in the kitchen. If I can bake, then so can you. When I was a slave, my mistress used to burn me if she thought I was lazy. It took me a long time to go into the mission home kitchen, and even longer to attempt any baking.”

  Mei Lien stared at the girl. It was hard to believe this cheerful, frank girl had once been too afraid to walk into a kitchen. Mei Lien bit her lip, battling with her physical reaction of walking down those stairs into the unknown. Could she do it? She knew her answer; she had to be strong enough to follow through. “All right,” she said at last.

  Lonnie wrapped her arms about Mei Lien, surprising her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been hugged by another woman. Not since her mother’s farewell, she was sure.

  When Mei Lien hugged Lonnie back, the girl laughed. Mei Lien felt a small smile push its way to the surface. “We should go now, before I change my mind.”

  Lonnie drew back, her eyes shining. “Then let’s hurry.” She grasped Mei Lien’s hand and practically pulled her off the bed with her.

  Miss Cameron rose with them and opened the bedroom door. She gave Mei Lien an encouraging smile as they moved into the corridor. The house was abuzz with life and energy and voices, but no one was in the hallway.

  So, tugged by Lonnie, Mei Lien descended the front staircase. When she had been brought to the house, they had used the back stairs—the stairs they’d told her she would have to go back down if there was a house raid. This front staircase was a thing of beauty, made from dark wood and winding from the top floors to the main level.

  Each step brought her farther away from the sanctity of her bedroom; each step brought her closer to something different, something unknown.

  When she hesitated on the last three steps, Lonnie turned and said, “Don’t worry, Mei Lien. You’ll never have to be alone again.”

  “It was necessary . . . in a way to break the letter of the law though not the spirit of the law when we rescued a Chinese child for there was no written law to uphold us in entering a house and carrying off a child—then, too, before it was possible to carry out guardianship proceedings.”

  —Donaldina Cameron, mission home report

  1904

  The letter folded easily, its creases well-worn due to the number of times that Dolly had read Charles’s words. He was thriving at the seminary in New Jersey, and his letter was full of enthusiasm and purpose, yet Dolly hadn’t written him back. She missed him terribly, and she was afraid that her melancholy would bleed onto the pages.

  No matter, it was late at night, and she should get some rest. This morning, she had accompanied little Mae Tao to the courthouse, where her hearing had been a farce. The judge had turned her over to her “uncle,” and she was dragged out of the courthouse crying. The experience had left Dolly feeling as if her stomach had turned to stone.

  There had also been a plague scare on the next street over. It turned out that the man was sick with something else, but it had been enough to send the entire neighborhood into a panic. The plague had spread despite the city officials’ efforts to barricade neighborhoods, and more than a hundred people had died.

  Tomorrow, Dolly would go to court with Yuen Ho’s husband, who’d been shot by a highbinder after he helped his wife escape. Dolly doubted the highbinder would be caught and punished, but filing the charges would have to do for now. Her thoughts shifted to the young man who had delivered a message years before and had then been shot in the street moments after. Even with the passing years, the danger continued, and the stakes only seemed higher.

  Dolly yearned for an outsider’s point of view. She longed to discuss these events with Charles. But in truth, after recording the events in the mission home ledger, she was often too emotionally exhausted to repeat them in a letter—although Charles was always interested in hearing about her work. In fact, her work had been what had inspired him to find a higher calling in his life.

  Dolly didn’t miss the irony of the number of miles that now separated her from the man she hoped to marry. Yes, that hope was something she could admit to herself now that he was living across the country. She was trying to be understanding and brave and to continue to do her own work while she waited. . . .

  Charles might be far away, but Dolly had plenty to be grateful for, especially, at the moment, the progress that Mei Lien was making. Lonnie had taken it upon herself to be Mei Lien’s young friend, and the woman was spending more and more time each day outside of her bedroom. She had even joined in with the sewing class the other day. It turned out that Mei Lien was highly skilled in embroidery. Dolly had complimented her and was gratified to see a smile from the young woman.

  Soon, Mei Lien would learn to trust again. She would learn to accept her own healing. And she would tell Dolly about the child she carried in her belly. The sadness in Mei Lien’s eyes was unmistakable and unfortunately all too common in Dolly’s experience in rescuing paper daughters.

  After turning off the lamp, she walked out of her office. The house was silent, and Dolly double-checked to make sure the lights were off downstairs, save one, before she headed up to her bedroom. Since becoming director, Dolly had made no pretenses and had moved into one of the smaller rooms at the top of the house. Her closet might be tiny and fit no more than two pairs of shoes in width, but Dolly cherished the view she had of the city through the windows. She could see the comings and goings and watch the pulse of the neighborhood below.

  A loud rap at the double front doors made Dolly pause as she neared the first staircase landing.

  A knock at the door at this time of night had never brought good news. Despite her own exhaustion, Dolly’s mind immediately went on alert. Was there another rescue? She hurried down the stairs and strode to the d
oors. Looking out the paned windows of the top half of the doors, Dolly saw two men on the front stoop. A few paces behind them stood four or five other men.

  No. She felt as if she had been physically pushed back by an ocean wave. Dolly reached for the gong that would alert the girls upstairs. The newer girls had all been trained to head down the back stairs, all the way to the bottom basement. Tien would see to it. Dolly prayed that Mei Lien would be among them, because it was unusual to have so many men on her doorstep.

  It appeared that Zhang Wei wanted his slave back.

  Dolly started at the top of the door, turning the first lock. She had installed multiple locks scaling the door from top to bottom, allowing her to take more time to get the door open. And allowing the girls more time to escape the back way.

  She slid the second lock open, then the third. She continued slowly, even though she could practically feel the impatience of the men on the porch oozing through the door. When the final lock was turned, she opened the door a crack.

  “May I help you?”

  A thick hand rested on the open door.

  But Dolly didn’t draw back. She straightened her spine and gazed at the men. All but two were Chinese. She recognized Attorney Abe Ruef and Officer Cook. Both she and the officer had aged over the years, and Cook’s hair was generously peppered with gray beneath his hat. Their gazes connected briefly, and Dolly knew he wished he could have stopped this night raid.

  “I have a warrant for Mei Lien’s arrest,” the lawyer announced.

  “Who?” Dolly asked.

  Ruef’s face darkened a shade. “Mei Lien. You heard me.”

  Dolly pretended to consider the name while Ruef shuffled his feet impatiently. She had no qualms about stalling. She had put him through these paces multiple times, but he deserved it. She hated that Ruef now took money from the tong to represent them in these cases.

  “May I see the warrant?” Dolly said.

  Ruef promptly handed it over, and Dolly ever-so-slowly read through each word. “She stole a necklace from Mr. Zhang Wei?” Dolly looked up and scanned the Chinese men. “Where is Mr. Zhang Wei?” She very well knew what he looked like, but she made a show of studying them anyway.