Through the Shadows

by Barnett, Karen;

  “Decisions always come down to the dollar. I imagine the threat got the governor’s attention.”

  “And Mayor Schmitz’s, too.” Henry smirked. “Of course, he’s gone now. Extortion charges don’t do much for a political career.”

  A dark-haired woman appeared to take their order. Charles skimmed the menu, choosing the chicken dinner, the same as his new friend. He took a sip of the steaming coffee. “Was my uncle involved in trying to relocate Chinatown? I overheard him dressing someone down about a trinket shop.”

  Henry folded both arms across his barrel chest. “Is there anything your uncle isn’t involved in? He’s fixated on transforming San Francisco into some kind of model city. It’s never going to happen, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a jewel of gold in a swine’s snout, if you ask me.”

  Charles choked on his coffee. “A swine’s snout?” He mopped a napkin across his chin. “Proverbs, right? ‘As a jewel of gold in a swine’s snout, so is a fair woman which is without discretion.’ ”

  “Very good.” Henry beamed. “You know the Scriptures?”

  “A fair amount. But you’re comparing the city to a woman with loose morals?”

  “No matter how hard the officials try to make us a showpiece, this will always be a gold rush town, complete with crooked streets and crookeder politicians, not to mention countless houses of ill repute.”

  “There seems to be some housecleaning going on. Maybe we’ll see some honest leaders for a change.”

  “You’re an idealist.” Henry narrowed his eyes at Charles, as if studying a complex legal brief. “I hope this business doesn’t crush it out of you.”

  The waitress returned, carrying a large platter of food. She spread the bounty before them. Henry asked a quick blessing before the two men dug in.

  Charles wiped his mouth with the napkin, casting a glance around at the neighboring tables. If he wasn’t mistaken, a few of them were inhabited by other men from the firm. Had the office emptied out after he and Henry departed? “What’s on the docket for tomorrow? I’m supposed to observe, but perhaps you can give me a few tips.”

  The corner of Henry’s mouth twisted upward. “You’re shadowing Spencer? Figures. Ever since he heard your uncle was bringing you on board, he’s tied his bow tie a bit too tight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s spent years trying to impress McKinley and McClintock. You’re a threat.”

  Charles’s stomach took a dive. “I never intended to walk in and upset everyone.”

  “You need to see the situation from Spencer’s perspective. He always expects the worst. Next thing you know, he’ll be standing on a street corner proclaiming the end of the world.”

  Charles shook his head. He’d gained an adversary, and he hadn’t even met the man. “Where was Spencer today? No one introduced me.”

  “He was in court all day. He’s got a big case with Sanborn Fire Insurance. You’ll get a sample tomorrow.” Henry wiped grease from his chin. “Not me. I never get out of the office. I’ll be shuffling papers until I die, I expect.”

  Charles pushed the potatoes around his plate. “If I move up as fast as Spencer fears, maybe I’ll be needing an assistant.”

  Henry’s eyes brightened. “Now you’re talking. I knew I liked you.” He squinted across the table. “So, that means you’re in charge of the check. Right?”

  Charles lifted his coffee cup. “See, I suspected you were clever.” He grabbed his fork and began spearing the cooked carrots. “Do you know anything about the King family?”

  Henry rubbed his ear. “I met the son—the doctor. He came in a while back, insisting to see Mr. McKinley. Your uncle wouldn’t give him the time of day. Something didn’t seem quite right. The rest of the morning, Mr. McKinley appeared out of sorts—anxious, even. You spoke with the widow?”

  “I did. It’s troubling. The numbers in the files don’t add up.” The niggling doubt burrowed in his thoughts. “I provided her with some options for the future. She accepted the news with dignity, but the daughter . . .” Charles shook his head. “What a firebrand.”

  “A pretty one?”

  A prickle raced across the back of his neck. “Yes, but not—I mean, she’s opinionated. And hotheaded.”

  “Sounds like fun. The kind to keep a man on his toes.”

  “Maybe for you.” Charles jammed his hand through his hair. “She’s moved to San Francisco, so there’s a chance she may appear at the office as well.”

  Henry chewed and swallowed. “Thanks for the warning. Mr. McKinley will be none too pleased.”

  “I don’t relish the thought, myself.” The idea of Miss King going toe to toe with his uncle sent a chill down Charles’s back. Perhaps he could send a message to the Mission and suggest a second meeting. At a neutral location, preferably. He glanced around the diner. Someplace a little finer than this.

  ***

  Elizabeth ran a quick hand over her wrinkled skirt, as she followed one of the students down the stairs toward Miss Cameron’s office. The girl’s slippers made the slightest scuffing sound on the treads, making Elizabeth feel like an elephant trailing a gazelle.

  The escort ushered her to the door, vanishing before Elizabeth could offer thanks.

  Miss Cameron jumped up from a chair, skirt swishing. “Miss King, I am so delighted you are here. I must apologize for not greeting you upon arrival. You’ve settled in, I hope?” Her beaming smile warmed the room.

  The knot in Elizabeth’s stomach uncoiled like a seedling reaching for the sunlight. “Yes, and the room is perfect, thank you.”

  The missionary laughed. “They’re small, I know. I’d hoped when the Mission Board rebuilt 920 they’d provide something homelike, but I’m afraid what they gave us is more like a giant dormitory. But my daughters are grateful to be home again. Two years is a long time to be transient, especially for such a large family.”

  Elizabeth’s heart lifted at Miss Cameron’s description of her young charges.

  Miss Cameron took Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her to a pair of blue mohair seats near the window. “Please, join me for tea. I remember how I felt my first day here. You must be overwhelmed.”

  Elizabeth sank into the chair. “A little, I’m afraid.”

  Miss Cameron lifted a white teapot marked with Chinese characters and guided a stream of liquid into two small cups. “I came from a loving home in the countryside and was woefully unprepared for what I faced my first day here.” Her Scottish accent colored her words. “Sometimes I think back on that naïve girl and wish I could tell her what grand adventures lay ahead. Much heartache, too, of course. I never imagined my life would turn out this way, but I followed God’s leading, and He’s taken me places I never anticipated.”

  Elizabeth wrapped her fingers around the warm cup. “You sound like my sister, Ruby. She speaks often of God’s plans and His will.”

  The light from the window glinted off the silver threads in the woman’s hair. “The deeper you involve yourself in His work, the more you’re aware of the actions of His hands.” She leaned forward, capturing Elizabeth’s gaze with her own. “What of you, my dear? Have you seen God’s fingerprints in your own life?”

  Elizabeth thought over her past. “My father was quite devout, but he passed away when I was young. I’ve tried hard to live a good life, pleasing to God. I . . .” A lump formed in her throat. How could she even say such a thing? “I fail often, I’m afraid.”

  “We all do, child. It’s a good thing He loves us, regardless.” She stood and retrieved a large, black ledger from the desk. “Each of His children is precious to Him, whether or not we make wise choices.” She returned to her seat and placed both hands on the leather cover. “Every time a new girl comes to 920, I record her story in this book—as many details as I know, anyhow. The tales can break one’s heart, as I’m sure they do our Heavenly Father’s.” She ran her fingers around the book’s worn edge. “But their old lives are behi
nd them. When one of our daughters embraces Christ’s sacrifice, she becomes a new creation. Scripture tells us the old is gone, the new is come. Whether she comes as an innocent babe or from the most sordid brothel, from a privileged home or from the darkest opium den—each girl is made new through Christ.”

  Elizabeth brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. A clean slate sounded too good to be true.

  Miss Cameron held out the book. “You might care to read up on your students’ histories. You’ll understand them better if you know from whence they came.”

  The tome felt heavy in her hand as if the weight of the past could pull her to the floor. “When do I begin teaching?”

  “In the morning, if you’re ready.”

  Elizabeth’s heart clambered toward her throat. “I can be.”

  Miss Cameron smiled. “I believe you’re going to be a wonderful addition, Elizabeth.” She paused. “May I call you Elizabeth? In front of the girls I’ll maintain formality, but I prefer to be on a first-name basis otherwise.”

  “Of course. And I should call you—”

  “Donaldina. I think we’ll be fine friends, and I can’t wait to see you in action. Now, are you hungry? I believe supper is about ready.”

  Elizabeth nodded, hoping her churning stomach would allow a few swallows of food. She stood and followed Donaldina to the large dining room.

  A flurry of conversations hushed as they entered, every face turning to study the newcomer. Elizabeth ran a quick hand over her shirtwaist and straightened her posture. Hold yourself like a teacher. She let her gaze wander over the girls, marveling at the wide variety of ages. She longed to know each unique face. At the end of one row, she spotted tiny Yoke Soo, bouncing in her seat. The girl waved. Elizabeth’s steps lightened. One down, how many to go?

  Donaldina took Elizabeth’s arm and guided her to the front of the room, taking her place at a wooden podium.

  Elizabeth folded her hands, conscious of the many sets of eyes.

  “Good evening, girls.” Donaldina nodded to the gathering, as regal as a queen presiding over her subjects.

  “Good evening, Lo Mo.” The children echoed, a flurry of smiles brightening the room.

  Donaldina paused, waiting for them to quiet. “I’m pleased to present our new sewing teacher, Miss Elizabeth King. Miss King comes to us from Sacramento. I know you will make her feel welcome.” She waited as the girls’ murmuring quieted. “Now, let us pray for our meal, shall we?”

  All around the room, heads bowed.

  After the prayer, Donaldina led Elizabeth to a small table set off to one side. “Often I join the girls for dinner, but tonight I’d like to get to know you better.” She waved Kum Yong over to join them.

  The graceful young woman took a seat, nodding to Elizabeth.

  Donaldina poured water from a pitcher in the center of the table. “I wanted to speak to both of you about the proceedings tomorrow.”

  Elizabeth eyed the steaming bowl of thin noodles topped with limp green leaves—spinach? Her last meal seemed like days ago. The food looked unusual, but smelled divine.

  Kum Yong held the serving dish out to Elizabeth, directing her words at Donaldina. “We are due in court at nine o’clock.”

  Taking a small portion, Elizabeth glanced at her tablemates. Court?

  Donaldina spread a napkin on her lap. “How is Tien Gum? Has she calmed down?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Kum Yong accepted the platter back and dished up a helping on her plate. “The idea of facing her captors makes her fearful.”

  “At one time she thought nothing could be more terrifying than Fahn Quai.” Donaldina shook her head.

  Elizabeth took a bite, letting the food linger on her tongue before chewing and swallowing. “What does that mean?”

  Kum Yong’s nostrils flared. “The distasteful term is what some, outside this house, call Miss Cameron.”

  Donaldina leaned close and spoke under her breath. “Means ‘white devil.’ I’ve earned many names among the Chinese. That’s the one they use to frighten their charges into obedience. ‘Be good or Fahn Quai will get you.’ ”

  “I’d think they’d wish you to come save them.” Elizabeth dug at the slippery green vegetables with her fork.

  “The stories you’re told shape how you view the world. If you heard I stole children away and ate them for breakfast, you might be frightened of me, too.”

  Kum Yong smiled. “Once they arrive here, they learn the truth—no one is a better friend than Lo Mo.” She leaned close to Elizabeth. “Lo Mo is our nickname for Miss Cameron. It means ‘old mother.’ ” She glanced at Donaldina. “Meant in the kindest possible way.”

  Donaldina touched a napkin to her lips. “You should come along tomorrow, Elizabeth. You can witness some of the challenges they face. We’ll return in plenty of time to prepare for class.”

  “Of course, whatever you think is best.” Elizabeth nodded. “What is the case about?”

  “We rescued Tien Gum from her captors four weeks ago. I obtained legal custody, thanks to our friends in the court, but her former owners accuse her of stealing. If she is found guilty, they can wrest her from my protection.”

  Elizabeth’s stomach tightened. The dour-faced young woman who had reprimanded Yoke Soo? “She didn’t do it, did she?”

  “Of course not. It’s an age-old trick. If they can get her away from the safety of the Mission Home, she’ll vanish into the night and we’ll lose track of her.”

  “Vanish?”

  Donaldina sighed. “It’s a game of cat and mouse. They’d secret her away—move her up to Oregon or Idaho. I’ve chased girls as far as Portland. Some we recover, many we do not.”

  Elizabeth dropped her spoon. “How could a judge let such things happen?”

  The missionary blinked twice, as if fighting tears. “I ask the same question every time, Elizabeth. Every single time.”

  6

  Charles wrapped an elbow around the cable car’s brass rail, his free hand rubbing bleary eyes. He’d spent most of the late night hours memorizing the stack of files from his briefcase. Likely as not, he’d only be expected to observe this morning, but after years in law school, he’d learned not to cut corners. Surprise questions and unannounced examinations were the rule of the day. In order to avoid humiliation, one always overprepared.

  The conveyance jerked to a stop, and Charles lost his balance for a moment. Releasing the pole, he hopped to the cobblestones, hurrying across Market Street to the courts’ temporary lodgings in the Grant Building. Just a block away from the ruined City Hall and the Hall of Records, what the office building lacked in grandeur, it made up for in functionality.

  Charles swiped a hand across his forehead, glaring at the moisture collected on his fingertips. He hadn’t been this keyed up since his first day of college. Of course, Henry’s unpalatable descriptions of Spencer didn’t help.

  Charles rehearsed the arguments in his mind. Would Spencer start with the scanty photographic evidence? As he approached the massive doors, one opened. A familiar young woman brushed past him without a glance.

  Elizabeth King halted on the curb, her face similar in color to the sidewalk under her feet.

  Charles grasped her elbow. “Miss King—are you quite well?” He tugged her back a step. “Why are you here?”

  She locked her round eyes on him, her fingers dropping onto his forearm. “Mr. McKinley?”

  He nodded. “You look as if you’ve spied a ghost.”

  She dropped her hand, the veil of good breeding rushing back over her. “I’m quite well. Thank you for your concern.” She glanced up at the Grant Building. Her eyes narrowed. “Is your uncle here, too?”

  Charles released her elbow. “No. Not today.” Why did he always feel compelled to rush to a woman’s rescue, even when he wasn’t wanted? “I’m glad to see you made it to San Francisco safely.”

  “I’m here with Miss Cameron.” Her color returned. “I—I just needed a breath of air. You mus
t have business inside. I shouldn’t keep you.”

  “Yes, I’m expected in court—if you’re certain you don’t need assistance.” She doesn’t want your help. Can’t you see?

  “I’m fine. You go ahead.” She turned her back, as if in dismissal.

  His thoughts scattered as he stepped through the doors. Two people in a large city, and they both happen to be at the courts on the same day? He shook his head. His mother always said God moved in mysterious ways.

  Charles trained his mind on the matters at hand. The files regarding the Transatlantic Insurance Company contained a massive amount of complex information and detail. Likely as not, the trial would drag on for weeks—months, even. He skirted groups of people, their muted conversations trailing him down the hallway. He’d need to familiarize himself with the opposition if he hoped to be a vital part of the process.

  He stepped off the elevator at the fourth floor, checking the clerk’s sketched map.

  Several well-dressed men stood outside the courtroom, their boisterous conversation carrying down the passage.

  Charles stopped short. The man at the judge’s side matched Henry’s description of Frederick Spencer. The attorney’s smile gleamed, almost as if he oiled his teeth in addition to his hair.

  The robed judge clasped him on the shoulder. “You just saved us all quite a lengthy headache, Mr. Spencer. I must admit, I’m more than relieved—I’m delighted.”

  Spencer grasped the third man’s hand and pumped it. “Pleasure doing business with you, Robbins. You’ve made a wise decision that will save your company millions.”

  Robbins nodded. “Can’t say I’m pleased, but I believe you’re right. It’s a fair arrangement. Just see you abide by it. I want no more claims to cross my desk, you hear?”

  Spencer’s mouth quirked up on one side. “A deal’s a deal. And a profitable one at that.”

  Robbins and the judge proceeded down the hall together as Spencer shoved a file into his briefcase.

  Charles stepped forward. “Mr. Spencer?”