Blossom (The Blossom Trilogy Book 1)

by Christopher Lentz

  As she turned to head back to The Golden Palace, a white family—a father, a mother, two daughters and a chubby son—walked by, commenting about the sights and sounds of Chinatown. Blossom noticed how they, especially the mother, walked with their noses so high they could drown in a sudden April shower.

  She politely watched them pass by as the mother said loudly, “Children, don’t touch that ching chong. You never know when the plague might come back to this part of town, and you might catch it on these streets and from these people.” The woman turned to her husband and added, “Why did you bring us to this filthy chink-filled place?”

  The boy pulled his pumpkin-shaped face with his hands to make his eyes slanty. He stuck his tongue out of his tightened lips.

  “Do you see any cats?” she asked.

  “Cats?” replied the father.

  “Yes, Mrs. Ford told me that when you look for a Chinese restaurant to eat at—not that we ever would—you should look for cats.”

  “I repeat, cats?”

  “Yes, if there are cats out and about, then that restaurant isn’t cooking with them.”

  Blossom thought that this woman must have been raised with better manners, and how the woman incorrectly assumed that she, Ruby and Sang didn’t speak English.

  “Such blindness they have,” said Ruby.

  Blossom fought the urge to set the record straight about the plague in Chinatown and how it had been eradicated. As she thought it over once more and gazed into the window pane, the reflection of what looked like three ostriches passed by. She looked a second time. If anyone only looked at them from the shoulders up, the three women who had just strolled by with elaborate ostrich-plumed hats could have been mistaken for birds. Blossom was mesmerized by the way the air made the feathers flow as the women walked.

  Someday I’ll have a hat like that, piled high to the sky with feathers and ribbons. Brock’s fiancée probably wears hats like that and she shops with girlfriends like those women and…

  The ringing of a nearby church bell announced that it was 2:30. Blossom brought herself back to reality. There’s no way not to be late now. She looked down at the flower petals that rested at Ruby’s feet.

  “You know what? For the longest time I thought your job was called a ‘flower petaler,’” she said as she brushed the ground and captured a few wayward petals with her hand. “Even though I know that you’re a flower peddler, I still think of you as a petaler. I just thought you should know that!” said Blossom as she tossed the petals to the passing breeze and waved goodbye to Ruby. Blossom made her way back to the bakery with the red tulip.

  “Ten minutes, you say,” Chang reminded Blossom of her earlier commitment as she entered the door.

  “I know, but I got distracted.” She twirled the tulip gently between her fingers and looked her father straight in the eyes. “It’s not like this was the first time it’s happened, but why do white people look at us as if we’re part of some exhibit in a museum? Is it ever going to end? A woman said that we serve cat meat in our food, and she called me a chink and a ching chong in one breath. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but now that I know that I’m partly white, it makes me even madder that they look at me as if I just arrived from Shanghai and can’t speak a word of English.”

  “What inside matter most. Not outside. Not clothes. Not shape of eye. Not skin. Not language.” He continued and pointed to his eyes with both index fingers, “My eyes see your beauty. Their eyes, they see something exotic and mysterious. Or, we look evil and mysterious. Not much in between.”

  “That’s it. I’m in between. I don’t belong with them and I don’t exactly belong here either. I’m in between, a misfit.”

  Grand Ma Maw came up from behind Blossom and wrapped her arms around her. “You are no misfit. You fit perfectly right here in my arms. You always have. You always will.”

  “Thank you, Grand Ma Maw,” Blossom whispered as she clung closely to the old woman, knowing that Grand Ma Maw would not always be there to help pick up the pieces when her life fell apart.

  Blossom noticed how Grand Ma Maw’s hug stiffened and then she dropped her arms.

  “It pains me, but I must tell you both something.” She turned Blossom around and looked at her, then at Chang.

  “For first time, Blossom, you topic of ladies’ discussion today at mahjong table. And it not good discussion. Humiliated. Embarrassed. Those my feelings.”

  Blossom gave a sideways look toward her father.

  “Oh, the China 4 must have really been bored if they had to resort to talking about me. Did someone see me going to visit Monique at the Maison Bijou?” asked Blossom as she tried to finagle her way out of this situation. She quickly sensed that it wasn’t working.

  “As you been told many time before, we not China 4,” clarified Grand Ma Maw. “You seen with white man in carriage. Not once, but twice,” she said holding up one finger and then a second.

  “Your Mr. St. Clair, yes?” Grand Ma Maw asked.

  Blossom knew this was serious and decided that a straightforward response would be best.

  “Yes, I was with Brock.”

  “You bring shame upon yourself, also upon our family. This must stop,” commanded the old woman.

  “Yes, must stop,” seconded Chang.

  Blossom was silent for a moment. Then, fully knowing the disrespect she’d be showing, she fired back a crisp and defiant, “No.”

  Grand Ma Maw banged her walking stick onto the floorboards and instructed, “Speak no more, unless you can improve the silence.”

  The old woman walked away.

  To Blossom, the silence was painful.

  Chapter 44

  An Inconveniently Placed Piece Of Paper

  Tuesday, April 17, 1906, 4:20 p.m.

  One day before the earthquake and firestorm

  “You’re home!” announced Mrs. Donohue as Clarissa and Brock came through the front door. “Eleven more gift packages were delivered today!”

  “More pickle castors and cruet sets I expect,” replied Clarissa, waving her right arm with a flourish toward a special table set up near the dining room to display their wedding gifts.

  “Honestly, I don’t care if you get 100 pickle castors, and I don’t care if you ever serve your guests pickles from them. You’ll receive them graciously and enthusiastically, even if no one else is around,” Mrs. Donohue reprimanded.

  “What about the broken pickle castor and the shattered glass wedding basket? Should I graciously receive trash?” asked Clarissa.

  Zelda’s snickers from down the hallway were not muffled enough. They didn’t go unnoticed.

  “I wonder if someone might be dropping my packages after she receives them from the delivery boys. I wonder who that might be?”

  Brock, Mrs. Donohue and Clarissa all turned in the direction of the hallway, but could hear or see nothing.

  Mrs. Donohue changed the topic quickly with, “Say, how was that picnic of yours?”

  Brock unlatched the hamper so she could see its emptiness.

  “That’s just as it should be at the end of the afternoon,” she said.

  “But I’m still hungry,” Brock admitted as he looked into the dining room and spied the fortune cookie on the buffet.

  As swiftly as he could said, “Oh look, an extra dessert,” Brock cracked open the cookie.

  “I know Faye didn’t want to open it,” said Clarissa in a cautionary way, “but I don’t know if she wanted anyone else to open it either.”

  “It was Faye’s? Well, too late now. Want to hear her fortune?” Brock responded playfully. He read it to himself, mouthing each word. Then he read it aloud.

  “Tomorrow will bring you problems that you do not have today.”

  Clarissa looked at Brock and didn’t say a thing.

  “Now I can see why she didn’t want to open it,” said Brock. “I wonder if the fortune is now mine, since I opened it? Or is it still Faye’s because it was hers to begin with?”

 
Clarissa looked at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t know, and considering the prophecy, I don’t even want to think about it.”

  Mrs. Donohue chimed in. “I’ve always felt the future is what you make it. A prophecy wrapped in a sweet cookie is just an inconveniently placed piece of paper if you ask me.”

  Clarissa theatrically swirled her hands in the air and announced, “I’m surrounded by pearls of wisdom from cookies, from mothers and from my fiancé. How lucky can a girl get?”

  Chapter 45

  Living Dangerously

  Tuesday, April 17, 1906, 5:30 p.m.

  One day before the earthquake and firestorm

  Blossom looked twice, not believing what she saw through the restaurant’s front window. It was Brock, no doubt about it. He was doing his best to catch her attention. She smiled at him, but quickly turned to see if her father or Grand Ma Maw had observed the exchange. Luckily, both were uncharacteristically unaware. However, Butch was aware. Brock made some hand signals that Blossom deciphered as “I’ll meet you out back.” She nodded and made her way to the kitchen.

  Butch looked around, left his dinner on the table and stomped out the front door.

  “Are you trying your best to make a mess of everything?” Blossom asked as she hurried out into the alley and into Brock’s arms. She looked all around and up to the open windows as well.

  “Ah, to hell with it!” she said and smiled for a brief moment before Brock’s lips made it impossible to speak.

  They blocked out the world and kept kissing, swaying side to side. They moved in a circular motion as if they were slow dancing to a song no one else could hear.

  “Do you feel like someone’s watching us? I do,” said Brock.

  “Even when there isn’t anyone watching, it always feels like someone is. Brock, get used to it. I have!”

  If the brazen, public kiss wasn’t risky enough, Blossom was about to say something that would definitely get attention.

  “If my heart was a balloon, it would have burst by now,” whispered Blossom. “I am so filled with love for you. I can’t understand how that’s possible in four days, but it is. I’m sure of it.”

  Brock didn’t know how to react to Blossom’s use of the word “love” and the admission of her deep feelings, so he kissed her again.

  “What’s this?” asked Brock as he gently ran his finger over the cream and caramel-colored cameo brooch on Blossom’s collar.

  In a serious tone she answered, “I have something to tell—”

  “Is it about the dare?” Brock interrupted. “Monique already told me that—”

  “Have you no sense? Have you two lost your minds!” Anna Mae announced in a false voice that sounded like Grand Ma Maw.

  “Shoo-shoo,” she added, as if she’d come across two stray dogs coupling in the alley.

  Anna Mae burst into outrageous laughter and hugged them.

  “You really know how to live dangerously,” she added in her own voice this time. “If Butch saw you…well, there’s no telling what he might think or do!”

  Blossom responded, “Don’t you have someplace to be, like…um…let’s say…not here?”

  “No, my break just got started, so I have a full fifteen minutes. Wouldn’t you know it, though, that gossip Kitty and I are on the same shift tonight. Every time I want to bust out of there to be with you, she’s watching me and the clock. Blossom, hopefully we can talk a minute or two, if you can pull your lips away from his. I ran over here to catch up on your romance, but I’ve seen it now for myself since you’re so public about it. I’ll just be on my way and leave you two to carry on and let all of Chinatown know your private business.”

  Anna Mae turned in a mockingly dramatic way and started to walk away.

  “Hold on there, little missy.”

  Anna Mae pivoted around to make eye contact with Blossom.

  As the girls conversed in Chinese, Brock began to question his intentions with Clarissa and Blossom. Am I being totally selfish? How’s this going to end?

  The two friends chattered away as Brock was thinking and looking distant and removed. He spied Ting Ting taking in the sights and sounds from a window above the alley. He didn’t let her know he’d seen her.

  Brock heard the snapping of fingers. “Hey, farmer boy, where are you?” asked Anna Mae. “We’re here in this alley. Are you with us still?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  When I’m with Blossom, she’s the one I want. When I’m with Clarissa, I’m pretty sure she’s the one I want. I can’t believe I’m playing—

  “Honestly, Brock, would you rather be somewhere else?” asked Anna Mae.

  “I have to get back in the restaurant. I’m surprised they haven’t sent out a pack of search dogs to find me,” said Blossom as she turned toward the door to open it.

  “Bark! Bark! Bark!” announced the old woman in the doorway. “This dog found you. What your next move, my dears?”

  Blossom turned and kissed Brock on the cheek and scampered back to her customers. Grand Ma Maw looked up and into Brock’s eyes.

  “Her heart is full of you now. That no secret to anyone. What you do next, that your choice. She carry that choice in her heart forever.” She stared at him for what seemed like a painful amount of time to Brock.

  What is she saying? Does she actually want me to choose Blossom? Is she telling me to leave and never come back even if it breaks Blossom’s heart?

  Brock stood there, immobilized. Grand Ma Maw walked slowly back into the building.

  “Well, she told you!” said Anna Mae.

  “Yes, she sure did!” added Ting Ting from above. She waved to Brock.

  “Don’t you need to get back to work?” Brock asked Anna Mae. “And don’t you have something better to do, Ting Ting?”

  “You sure know how to make a girl feel welcome. Yes, my time here is over. I’m on my way, see?” Anna Mae started to walk away. “But you, Brock, are still standing there.”

  He was. He stood there motionless as she rounded the corner and disappeared. Brock felt lightheaded and loosened his collar.

  Now what?

  Chapter 46

  Totally Happy And Totally Miserable

  Tuesday, April 17, 1906, 6:17 p.m.

  One day before the earthquake and firestorm

  After wandering around the streets of Chinatown unsuccessfully attempting to collect his thoughts, Brock ended up at the front window of The Golden Palace yet again. He looked in and watched Blossom control the attention of the men in the restaurant. She glided around the room with grace and elegance in an atmosphere that was neither graceful nor elegant. Comfortable? Yes. Graceful and elegant. No.

  It was inevitable that she’d look up and catch his image in the window. She smiled at him warmly, lowering her shoulders and cocking her head slightly to the side as if to ask, “What am I going to do with you?”

  He made the same hand gesture as before and mouthed the words, “I’ll be back at ten o’clock.” Then he began to head for the alley, but stopped.

  Blossom looked to the restaurant’s entry to see if Chang was there. He wasn’t. She pointed to the door in a gesture Brock couldn’t miss.

  They met in the building’s front entry.

  “We have to talk this through,” Brock blurted out with a sense of urgency and impatience.

  Blossom responded, “What’s this? What do you need to talk through exactly?”

  “You…and me. We…or I…have to sort this out. I know it’s up to me, and I feel totally happy and totally miserable at the same time. I can’t take it.”

  She jumped in, “You can’t take it! What about me? And what do you mean, it’s up to you?”

  “You’re right. We can’t take it, and it’s up to us,” acknowledged Brock.

  But, at that moment, Brock didn’t realize that he should be including Clarissa in that reference to “us.”

  “I’ll be in the alley at ten o’clock to meet you, and we’ll go somewhere to talk. W
ill your grandmother still be awake? Or, should I come later?”

  “Ten is fine.”

  He took a risk and quickly kissed her, and gently pushed her back into the restaurant.

  “Bye for now.”

  “You can bet your—” said Blossom. She looked up and down Brock for a visual cue to complete her statement. She continued, “You can bet your boots it’s only bye for now!”

  Chapter 47

  Candles And Cologne

  Tuesday, April 17, 1906, 8:10 p.m.

  One day before the earthquake and firestorm

  Austin’s outrageously loud belch at the base of the staircase reverberated throughout the St. Clair house. It should have come as no surprise to anyone who knew him, since he always could be counted on for inappropriateness.

  “Honestly, are you ever going to act like a gentleman?” asked Mrs. St. Clair in an exasperated way. “This is not a barroom or a barnyard.”

  “Speaking of barnyards,” spoke up Austin, “where’s your fair-haired son, the one with the polished manners and the manure on his boots?”

  “Austin, I don’t keep tabs on Brock’s every move. He’s got a business to run and a fiancée to attend to. I sometimes wonder if he even lives here anymore with his comings and goings. Though, I have to admit, he’s been more preoccupied and distracted than usual when he’s here,” reflected Brock’s mother.

  “Oh, if you only knew. He seems so smitten these days. Have you noticed?” asked Austin in a probing way.

  She looked at him quizzically, but wasn’t willing to take the bait.

  “In no time at all, Brock and Clarissa will be guests in this house, and you’ll finally get all the attention this household can shower on you. Won’t that be dandy?”

  “Dandy,” said Austin as he wrinkled his nose. He turned to walk away. “Yeah, more attention, that’s just what I’ve been looking for all of my life.” He then thought, I know where I can go to get some real attention.