“So it’s Raymond now, is it?” Laura said from the couch, her eyes dancing with mirth.
“Well, what did he give you?” Bruce asked, and Sara started unwrapping her gift.
“This is embroidered silk. It’s a very old art in China. See?” She held up a small screen of white silk held taut in a delicate enameled frame. It was embroidered with nearly invisible stitches, and bore the image of an ancient Chinese lady with a high black headdress. “Now look. Magic,” Sara laughed and reversed the screen. The other side was embroidered too, with a young girl who had flowers in her hair. Each stitched portrait was embroidered on the back of the other in exactly the same shape. The taut silk background was so thin that the light shone through, and a wrong stitch would have been clearly evident.
“Isn’t anybody going to ask what I got?” Evan asked, amid much crackling of paper as he unwrapped his gift. “I think I won on points, though. I’ve persuaded him that it’s not necessary for him to reopen his house here for Donna to live in.”
“What?” Donna gasped.
“Oh, yes,” Sara said. “While his family is in Hong Kong he’s living with his sister’s family, and his house is closed. He was all for opening it and installing himself and Donna there for as long as she wants to stay in San Francisco.”
“Oh, no!” Donna buried her face in her hands. “He’s so…so…”
“Nice,” her father said. “Now look here.” He held up his gift. It was a black enameled jewel chest for a man, touched with gold. Though it was small, the lines were massive and masculine. “For my watch and my old school ring,” Evan explained, grinning. “Poor guy did pretty well, considering he’d have had no way of knowing I almost never wear jewelry since I work with tools so much. But it was a nice try.”
“There is kind of a problem, though,” Sara said pensively, sipping her drink. “As Evan says, he’s so blamed nice, so kind, and he…he means so well. Despite all our kidding, he wishes Donna could be a permanent part of his life. I read that between the lines.”
“Oh, no,” Donna breathed. “Surely not.”
“Mark, is there any way you can help them out with this?” Laura asked, trying unconsciously to suppress a smile. Mark frowned, and shook his head slightly.
“How about that?” Evan turned to him. “You are sort of once-removed family, as it were. Why don’t you see him, Mark? I let him know that Donna is coming back to Vancouver for the fall quarter, but that’s about as far as I got.”
Mark gave a gutsy sigh and grinned sheepishly. “Well, since my loyal little wife has blown the whistle on me, I’ll confess it. I’ve already been over to see Raymond.”
“What? You did? What did he say?” They all spoke at once.
“Let me put it this way,” Mark said, getting up from the couch and placing his drink carefully on the coffee table. “I’ll just go get my present and show it to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THEY MADE SOME JOKES during dinner about what time it was in Hong Kong or Dresden or Cairo, because Mark had put his gift on the dining-room buffet temporarily. It was a world clock made of heavy glass, mounted in polished brass, which showed the time anywhere in the world at any given moment.
“That goes on my office desk,” Mark said. “From somewhere Raymond must have found out we have some multinational business clients. He put some thought into these things, as well as a real bundle of money.”
“Laura, what plans have you made for the evening?” Donna asked as they left the table and headed toward the living room. Mrs. Cooper had just set out the coffee tray. “Are we going to play cards or something?”
“Nothing! We’re going to talk,” Laura said positively. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on. It’s been months since your folks have been down here.”
“In that case, I think I’ll skip coffee, if nobody minds. I’ve been carrying a real load of guilt most of the summer. It’s time I did something about it. I’m going to talk to Raymond Tsung myself. Just me.”
There were several demurs from the group.
“I mean it,” she said. “Nobody’s been able to get past Raymond Tsung’s personality to tell him that I made a mistake—a rather bad one, really. So, since it’s my mistake, it’s up to me to correct it.”
They were all looking at her.
“I think Donna is right,” Sara said finally.
“Well,” Evan said hesitantly, “if you think so, but—” He cleared his throat. “You won’t be…You won’t say anything to…uh…hurt his feelings, will you? He’s really such a decent guy.”
“Oh, I’ll be careful, Daddy.”
“If I promise to keep my mouth shut,” Bruce said, “can I tag along?”
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “On that condition,” she said at last. “It’s my problem. I’ll do the talking.”
Bruce gave an exaggerated imitation of zipping his lips together.
Donna telephoned Tsung at his sister’s home. She thought she’d better be frank. “I need to talk with you,” she said candidly. “It needs to be as private a conversation as we can have.” As she said the words, Bruce winced and covered his face, so she knew she was making a faux pas. She knew from Bruce’s tutelage in Chinese customs that any matter with Raymond Tsung would be a family matter, and that if he followed his own inclinations, he would have the meeting in the midst of his sister’s whole clan.
There was a very short silence at the other end of the line before he said smoothly, “Of course you need to talk, my dear. I know just the place. Meet me in front of my sister’s house. Do you have the address?”
“Yes. I have it from the phone book,” she answered.
“Bruce will know where it is,” he said easily, letting her know that though she required privacy of him, it was all right for her to bring Bruce if she wanted to.
“Yes. I know the neighborhood,” Bruce said after Donna hung up. “It’s out in the Richmond, almost within sight of the park.”
The house, they observed when they reached it, was a two-storied rosy stucco too big for its long narrow lot. Slanting rays from the setting sun glittered on the windows. Raymond Tsung was walking up and down in front of the house, as if he were taking an evening stroll, dressed in jeans and an open-necked plaid shirt. At first glance, neither of them recognized that this was the same man as the bank president in his elegant office. He saw them immediately and waved them to the curb, smiling broadly.
“Right around here,” he said as they got out of the car. “There’s a tiny garden back here, and it’s a fine warm evening. My brother-in-law is the family’s best gardener. He fixed a small place back here where we sometimes eat.” He opened a high gate and led them along a skinny strip of cement walk, past the long house to the very back.
“Here we are,” he said, opening another gate and letting them into a tiny private garden arranged mostly with planter boxes holding a wild array of blossoms. There was a white umbrella table and chairs. “It will soon be time to take this stuff in, I guess,” he said. “Summer can’t last forever.” He pulled out a chair, and Donna seated herself.
On the table were a blue pitcher and glasses. “I thought you might not want tea, so I took some of my sister’s fruit drink. She makes this with chopped citrus fruit and pineapple, and who knows what else. Refreshing.” He poured three glassfuls and very carefully passed them around. Seated at the round table, they all sipped appreciatively while a little silence fell.
Donna looked at him. He seemed broader-chested in the sport shirt, and she noticed the light dusting of gray at his temples. He had helped them get settled with courteous small talk. Now it was up to her. She put her glass down.
“I’ve come to make a confession. And to apologize,” she said.
He said nothing, and there was no change in his expression.
“At the beginning of summer I was a silly adolescent. I hope that by the end of it, I will have passed that phase,” she added wryly. His sudden smile gave her keen pleasure.
“Pretended,” Raymond murmured without inflection.
“Yes. There’s no other way to say it. I really hadn’t wanted any parents but Mom and Dad. Even Prairie, my original mother, I only think of as a vague kind of relative whenever I see her, never as a real mother, I’m afraid. I thought my father would never be found, couldn’t be found.” She paused.
“And Bruce, clever Bruce, found me. He pulled the rabbit out of the hat.” Raymond smiled, but with a tinge of sadness.
“Something like that. I didn’t know what to do then, so I just sort of went along with it. But now that my parents are here, and Dad was a little upset—” She took a sip of her drink.
“I talked with your parents today. I saw that he was upset,” Raymond said. “I believe he is less upset now.”
“Yes.” Donna smiled. “You must have said the right things.”
“I did my best. It was the least I could do for those good people. I should let you know that, as fathers go, I’m a very hard-core father. I care a great deal for my children. If I’d known I had a child out in the world, outside my care, I would have moved heaven and earth trying to find him or her. So you can understand what a shock it was to me to learn that I did indeed have a child, and a daughter, more vulnerable than a boy. You can understand then how profoundly relieved I was when I learned someone else had found you, taken care of you, loved you, shaped you into a self-sufficient young woman. I owe your parents a debt I can never repay.”
“I’m…sure they don’t see it that way,” Donna said, an odd ache in her throat.
“I’m sure they don’t,” he agreed. “But I please myself by sending little gifts to the people who care about you.”
“After I met you,” Donna went on, “I began to feel ashamed and sorry. I guess this is time for my apology. I used you. And it’s unforgivable for one person to use another. I apologize.”
He gave just the briefest nod. Donna wasn’t sure whether that meant that he agreed with what she’d said, or that he accepted her apology.
“I think I have a small confession and apology to make, too,” he said after a long pause. “My wife is ecstatic about the discovery of a daughter. My interval as a wannabe artist has long been a source of family amusement. She told me on the phone this afternoon that she wished all my past indiscretions could have this happy an ending. So, to my small confession.” He took a sip from his glass.
“I have always remembered my days with Prairie with some embarrassment, possibly, at times, even shame. It was actually rather a bad time for me, full of rebellion, of mistakes, misconceptions and cheap phoniness which I thought was reality. Yet when you walked through my office doorway, Donna, the whole shabby, shoddy incident was suddenly given value, great worth. Something very fine had come out of something I had thought of as a worthless time. So tonight I make my small apology to Prairie.” He sighed. “I’m sure that there is some excellent old Chinese proverb that would say all this better than I can, but I can’t think of one.”
“You did okay,” Bruce said gruffly, clearing his throat.
Donna reached over without a word and clasped Raymond’s blunt hands; she looked into his round face, with its opaque dark eyes the same shade as hers. She felt their kinship intensely, and she knew he felt it too. There was a sense of timelessness in the lengthening shadow from the umbrella, but she felt no hurry. There was all the time in the world.
“Now,” he continued. “We come to the matter which troubles you. I value you more because of your loyalty to your parents—and I say ‘parents’ advisedly. Prairie and I are not your real parents, Donna. We were the heedless, headstrong young couple who precipitated your birth. Only that. Your parents are the people who loved you through the years, took care of you, put up with your nonsense, wiped your nose, worried about you when you got sick—and were proud when you did something good. Those people are your parents. I could use another one of those fine Chinese proverbs here, and don’t have one.”
He lifted his glass and took a swallow.
“Oh, when you first appeared, I don’t deny the thought of having a full-time daughter enchanted me. I was besotted with the idea—until I met your parents this afternoon. Then I realized I can’t be your father, Donna. I missed the first nineteen years of your life, so I lost out.” She could feel him giving up, letting go. They looked at each other for a long time. It was as if she was memorizing his features, his eyes which held so much kindness and understanding, and ten thousand years of gentle wisdom.
Donna leaned forward. “But,” she said very softly, “you can be my friend, can’t you? You can be my friend.”
“I would love to be your friend,” he said simply.
She saw Bruce look at his watch and knew that it was time to go, but she could not leave Raymond Tsung yet, not just yet. But they had said it all, had they not? And the dusk was gathering. Already the colors in the planter boxes had faded into the approaching evening so that she could discern little of hues that had been so vivid earlier.
She began to talk, not knowing exactly why, not hurrying, just saying whatever came to mind.
“I didn’t tell you, but I’ve been into gymnastics all my life. Not meaning to boast, but I’ve become pretty good at it. I have my little collection of blue ribbons. I’m hoping to work with young gymnasts. That’s what I’m going to aim at when I start college.
“My dad, Evan, that is, got me started on my thirteenth birthday. That was the first day I met him. He came—you knew he used to be a clown with Laura Hunt, when they were much younger—well, he came and showed me tricks, and he knew right then that I should do something with gymnastics.”
“Ah, of course,” he said softly. “That explains the grace in your posture and the spring in your walk. I did wonder.” A pause lengthened between them. She was glad she’d told him something he wanted to know. “Have you been long at the bank?” she asked.
“All my working life,” he answered easily. “I had to start at the very bottom. True, my uncle was then president, but I had to earn my promotions every step of the way. I always had to prove myself, you see, because I was the only nephew who had strayed. Ah, well, I don’t complain. It was good for me.”
“But you made it,” Donna said, with a great sense of satisfaction that he had, and a trace of anger that he had had to prove himself while the others had not.
He spoke again. “And besides the gymnastics, how are your grades, and what will your major in college be?”
She told him, and then asked him a question about his sons, her unknown half brothers. Why was she doing this? And why did it feel so right, so comfortable, so precious? She and Raymond continued to talk in the thickening darkness. Little fragments of conversations, with pauses between them. Bruce said nothing now, remaining completely silent in his place at the table. Nor did he look at his watch again. She realized, with a sense of gratitude, that he understood what was happening and knew its importance to her. She and Raymond were acquainting themselves with each other as best they could in the time allowed them, trading small bits and pieces of their lives back and forth, so that later, little pseudo-memories could be built upon them.
In this way, at some time, Raymond would remember her blue ribbons and she would remember his starting at the very bottom of the Bank of Cathay.
Finally she faced the fact that the time to leave had long passed, but she gave up their meeting sadly.
“And some time, when I come back to San Francisco, I…maybe I could meet your wife, and your boys?”
“Oh, they would like that. They would really like that.”
“I’m going to be in Vancouver soon, after the summer is over,” she said slowly. “I don’t expect to be very happy there for a while. Do you suppose that, sometimes, we might talk on the phone
?”
“You don’t think your parents would mind?” He put his glass down. The daylight was almost gone, and the blue pitcher was now more gray than blue.
“No,” she said, secure in her knowledge of them. “They won’t mind.”
She and Bruce left shortly afterward, walking down the narrow ribbon of walkway beside Raymond’s sister’s house to the street.
Donna felt smaller to him, almost as small as when they’d first met. Bruce took her hand and remembered how he’d held it when she was thirteen, and scared, and they’d been walking along Grant Avenue.
He glanced down at her face, not wanting her to know how protective he felt toward her, how proud, how desperately, overpoweringly in love he was. But she sensed his feelings, and her lovely dark eyes stared seriously up at him.
The wind sent dust eddies along the avenue, and whipped color into the faces of some children playing in the street, and tossed her hair across her face. She pushed it back, and he reached to pull free a last strand caught against her lips.
“You were wonderful,” he said. “He loves you, and between you, you two found a way not to spoil that love.”
Donna shivered. “I think I love him. He’s a special man. I’m lucky to have so many special people in my life.”
He smiled, at a loss for words.
“It’s getting colder,” she said, huddling a little closer to him.
He put an arm around her shoulders. “Yup. I even smell a good old fog coming in.”
“Know something?”
He knew. Oh, he knew, but he let her say it. “What, Donna?”
“Summer’s over.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“WHAT’S A CONTRACT?”
“Something you agree to do for someone.”
“Who are you gonna do all that for?”
“Me, Jim.”
“That’s nutty, Donna. Why d’you have to write down what you’re gonna do for you?”
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