Through the Shadows

by Barnett, Karen;

  He lowered the receiver, his mind jumping from one dark thought to another. Elizabeth, living under the shadow of disgrace—she had every reason to disappear. But to abandon Donaldina, Yoke Soo, Kum Yong? To leave her family without a word? It didn’t make sense.

  The alternative sent an icy chill through his chest.

  ***

  Elizabeth bit her lip, willing away the tears. The show of emotion would only give her captors confidence in their fear-mongering tactics. She pulled at the bonds on her wrists, the twine cutting into her skin.

  Two of the men argued in the next room, their voices carrying through the wall as if it were paper. She could make out a word or two, but regretted not spending more time learning the language.

  The third man sat in a rocker nearby, a Chinese newspaper open on his lap. His gaze darted toward her every few minutes, as if he half-expected her to leap from the chair and jump out the shuttered window.

  “Why are you doing this?” She studied his threadbare clothes, quite different from the other troublemakers. “What do you want with me?”

  He lifted the paper and hid behind it.

  She kept her voice low so as not to attract attention. “You know the police will tear this place apart.”

  “They don’t know where you are.” The paper didn’t move, but he hadn’t turned the page since she’d arrived, either. At least she knew he spoke English. Better English than he’d used on the street.

  Elizabeth yanked against the rope, her shoulder protesting at being bent behind her. “There are no secrets in Chinatown. I’ve lived here long enough to know that. Someone saw me follow you.”

  “People know better than to challenge the tongs.”

  She swallowed hard, trying to push away the fear threatening to consume her. Robert had warned her about the dangers, and she’d cast his wisdom aside like meaningless chatter. How maddening to prove him right.

  The argument grew louder, punctuated by a loud clatter, as if someone had thrown something against the wall. Had she told anyone where she was going? Lord, what do I do? She strained to listen to the discussion next door, but other than some choice phrases, she couldn’t make sense of the conversation.

  She closed her eyes. Everything she’d worked for had crumbled like a castle made of sand. Elizabeth remembered Donaldina’s words at the musicale. She’d praised Elizabeth’s teaching, her musical skills, and her love of the children. But when Tobias arrived on the doorstep, all her laurels had vaporized under the light of truth, like the fog on a sunny day.

  Lord, I gave up everything for You, but it’s never going to be enough. I’ll never be able to make up for what I’ve done.

  She couldn’t free herself from the chains of the past any more than she could loosen the ropes now binding her hands.

  ***

  Charles burst into George’s shop, his pulse hammering in his ears.

  The apothecary’s wooden tongs clattered across the floor. “Mr. McKinley? What’s wrong? Is it Yoke Soo?”

  Taking a moment to catch his breath, Charles shook his head. “Elizabeth. Has she been here?”

  “She came by earlier.” He checked a clock on the wall. “Maybe two and a half hours ago?”

  “Did she say where she planned to go afterward?”

  George stepped out from behind the counter. “She said she had to get back to the Mission. I gave her herbs for Miss Cameron.”

  Charles’s windpipe threatened to close. “She never made it.”

  “We’ll find her.” The shopkeeper untied his apron and tossed it toward the back room.

  Moments after locking the shop door, the two men hurried down Stockton, tracing Elizabeth’s mostly likely path. George stopped and spoke to a few storekeepers, but everyone shook their heads.

  Charles pressed a palm against the back of his neck. “I don’t care for the way people are looking at us. Do you think they know more than they’re saying?”

  “Tensions have increased between rival tongs. Highbinders are everywhere. No one wants to answer questions that might get them noticed.” The merchant glanced sideways at Charles. “Your unusual attire is not helping matters.”

  In his haste, Charles hadn’t bothered to change out of the tuxedo. “Do you think she was abducted?”

  “It is likely. The man who took Tien Gum has been increasingly violent. He lost others’ respect because Miss King and Miss Cameron deceived him.”

  His chest tightened. “Might this be revenge, then? What would he do to her?”

  “I’m not certain. They usually deal in fear and posturing, not true violence—except with rival tongs.”

  “Killing her wouldn’t gain him anything, right? Perhaps their motivation is to frighten Donaldina and her supporters.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Charles lungs ached as if he’d been submerged into an icy pool. What horrors could Elizabeth be experiencing right now? Would he ever see her again? He balled his fists, glancing around at the ramshackle buildings lining the street. “This can’t be happening. I’ll break down every door if I have to.”

  George grasped Charles’s forearm. “It would only drive them further underground. We need to get information first.” His face darkened. “The only way people will trust me is if I’m discreet. You should go back to the Mission. Notify the police and have them ready.”

  “I can’t just sit around and wait.”

  “Not sit. Pray. Wait on Him.”

  Charles glared at the passing crowds, their curious stares tearing at his self-restraint. George’s request made sense, as much as it rankled. “All right. I’ll wait for your call.”

  George nodded. “We will find her.”

  “I hope so.” He swallowed. “Because I can’t live without her.”

  31

  The neighboring room grew eerily silent. Elizabeth leaned her head against the framework of the chair, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. Her guard refused to speak and her wrists could take no more struggling. How long had she been here?

  “Not every Chinese man is evil.” Kum Yong’s admonishment filtered into her thoughts. Elizabeth closed her eyes, focusing on George and the many good souls she’d met during her visits to Chinatown. Would any of them help her now?

  She opened her eyes and turned her head to study the guard. He’d finally dropped the newspaper and now held a small book in his hands, a delicate pair of eyeglasses perched on his nose. He certainly didn’t resemble the other highbinders. “Who are you? You’re not one of them.”

  His gaze flickered up to meet hers, but he grunted and returned to his reading material.

  “Of course, I’m not like the other women at the Mission, either.” She returned her focus to the ceiling. At least she could converse with herself to pass the time. “They were going to kick me out tomorrow, anyway.”

  “You’re a Jesus woman. All alike.” He flipped another page.

  “My brother used to say the Chinese were all alike.”

  He grunted.

  Well, that was something, anyway. “I’ve learned differently since working at the Mission. I’ve discovered that many Chinese care deeply for their fellow men and women. That’s probably why I extended grace, trusting you when you told me someone needed help.”

  The man’s lips pulled downward.

  Grace. Donaldina’s favorite word. She tossed it around as easily as hello and good-bye. Elizabeth’s heart ached for her friend. How would she react when she discovered Elizabeth’s predicament? Donaldina could have judged her harshly when she heard Elizabeth’s secrets unfurled the evening of the musicale; instead she’d responded with love. With grace.

  Amazing grace, how sweet the sound. Elizabeth returned to staring at the wall, humming the tune she’d played so often as a child. Why had her father adored it so? ’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear and grace my fears relieved. She closed her eyes. If only it would relieve her fears now. But how could grace do such a thing? As she understood the song, the word meant God love
d her even though she didn’t deserve it.

  A prickle clambered across her skin. She turned to her captor. “I trusted you, even though you did nothing to earn it.” Elizabeth bit her lip. She had done everything she could to earn God’s love. The thought stabbed through her. None of it mattered. Nothing was good enough.

  The guard snorted. “You talk too much.”

  She glared at the man. “You don’t talk at all.”

  “Maybe your Jesus wants you to close your mouth and listen.”

  Elizabeth set her jaw, wrenching her arm against the ropes. A searing pain shot through her wrist. How did one listen to a silent God? The occasional turn of a page provided the only sound in the room.

  The quiet reminded her of the precious moment that followed every performance. In the stillness, everyone held their breath and listened. But for what?

  Father, I’m listening.

  After a few moments of concentration, her mind strayed back to the night of the musicale—Charles’s face, the whispers spreading through the room. Unworthy.

  Donaldina’s words echoed in her memory. “That’s why Christ went to the cross. To pay for our mistakes, so we could be wiped clean. It’s grace, nothing less.”

  Nothing less.

  A lump formed in Elizabeth’s throat. What if true faith wasn’t about the good things she did for God?

  What if it was about what Christ had already done?

  ***

  Robert paced around the hall. “We should be searching. I can’t stay here and do nothing when my sister is in danger.”

  Charles slid his fingers over the piano’s chipped keys. “George Wu knows Chinatown inside and out.”

  “So does the Chinatown Squad. Officer Kelley said they were ready to go.”

  “There’s no point until we have a location. We can’t just tear into every building in the neighborhood, hoping to find her.” Not that he didn’t want to do the same.

  Robert sank down at one of the long tables, lowering his forehead into his hands. “I told her this was too dangerous.”

  Charles crossed the room and pulled up the next chair. “You can’t expect her to be someone she’s not. Reaching out to the hurting is part of her character—one of the best parts, if you ask me.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you, of all people, defending her.”

  The jab hit home. “I didn’t see you leaping to her defense that evening.”

  Robert sighed. “I spent too much of my childhood defending her against neighborhood bullies.”

  “I’m sure she appreciated it.”

  “Not a bit. She wanted to fight her own battles—little tomboy.” His face fell. “If only I could have protected her from Carver.”

  A hollow opened in Charles’s chest. “My sister was eight years older than me. I couldn’t shield her, either.”

  The doctor lifted his gaze. “Abby tells me things had grown serious between you and my sister. What will you do now—if Elizabeth comes home safely?”

  Charles scrubbed a fist across his face. “I don’t know. My head says one thing, my heart says another.”

  “What does God say?”

  “I haven’t asked Him.”

  “And there’s your problem. Afraid of what He might ask of you?”

  Charles fell silent, the truth of Robert’s words sinking into his soul. He sensed God’s answer before he even asked. Could he love a woman who’d been with another man—a married man? If he succeeded in politics, Elizabeth’s secrets could haunt them. Carver had already displayed an arrogant, possessive nature. What if he showed up at a campaign rally or a state dinner?

  He dragged fingers through his hair. When had he begun thinking like his uncle?

  His sister had been ruined by the actions of a violent man and the decisions of an unmerciful court. The women at the Mission lived under the specter of their pasts. Elizabeth endured the shame of her choices. If God washed them clean of sin—who was Charles to condemn?

  He still loved Elizabeth. Her past didn’t change that. A surge of energy flooded his system at the realization. Lord, please give me a chance to tell her.

  The jarring doorbell broke Charles from his thoughts. Both men jumped from their seats and hurried out to the main hall.

  Kum Yong was already unbolting the door.

  ***

  Elizabeth jerked alert at the distant sound of slamming doors. “What’s going on?”

  Her guard stood and hurried to the hall, querying someone in a low voice.

  Tien Gum’s captor shoved past him and strode to Elizabeth’s side. “Get up. We’re moving.”

  “Why?” Elizabeth winced as he yanked at the cords holding her to the chair.

  The highbinder didn’t answer, just hauled her upright and shoved her across the room toward the woman she’d seen earlier.

  The guard hurried over, placing a supportive hand under her elbow.

  The old woman spoke in sharp tones, gesturing for them to follow. She led the way through a dim passage and down a rickety staircase.

  Elizabeth’s escort maintained a steady grip on her arm, as if to ensure she made it the bottom in one piece. “Almost there.” He kept his voice low. They passed through several dank rooms, before coming to a small cavernlike space, reed mats covering the cement floor.

  “In there.” The highbinder pointed.

  Elizabeth stumbled forward, lowering herself to the floor. “How long are you keeping me here?” She received no answer, not that she’d expected one.

  After a brief conversation with the two strangers, the guard shrugged and took a seat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. The others vanished back the way they’d come.

  “Why did they move us? What’s happening?” Elizabeth shifted, trying to get comfortable on the thin mat.

  The man lit an oil lamp and set it on low shelf. “People asking questions. They’re jumpy.”

  “People? What people?”

  He leveled his gaze at her. “Your people.”

  She dug her heels into the floor and scooted back against the wall, her hands still bound behind her. “Do you think you could loosen these?”

  He didn’t respond, burying his nose back in the book.

  “What are you reading?” She couldn’t handle another hour of tense silence.

  He grunted.

  She leaned against the damp surface and sighed. It must be getting late. At least it had given her plenty of time to consider her situation. Both Donaldina and Ruby had struggled to explain the concept of grace to her, but she’d never grasped it until now. Even after years of playing her father’s favorite hymn—it was as if she’d never heard the words.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. God, I beg Your forgiveness—for all my mistakes and for all the time I’ve spent trying to fix things by myself. I am the wretch of whom the song speaks. I was so blind.

  A shiver raced though her, from her chest outward to the tips of her fingers and toes. Tears welled in her eyes. Thank You, Father.

  The guard made a guttural sound in his throat. Getting up and stretching, he paced around the room.

  Elizabeth wiped her face on her shoulder. “Will you stay all night?”

  “If I must.”

  “I can’t undo these bonds, but you could.”

  He paused, gazing at her. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because I don’t think you’re a highbinder. Am I right?”

  “I’m a scholar.”

  “A scholar?” She frowned. “Then why are you doing this?”

  “I came from China to learn more of the world.” He shrugged, folding both arms across his chest. “Now, I hardly leave Chinatown. I’m not welcome anywhere else. I teach English to help men get better jobs. Your captor was a fast learner. He offered me better-paying work.” The man shook his head. “I didn’t know what he asked.” He sighed, rubbing fingers across his chin. “Now, I live in disgust of what I’ve become. You say I’m not like them, but you’re wrong. I am them.”
<
br />   An odd tingling raced across Elizabeth’s skin. “As am I.”

  He tipped his head. “What?”

  “I’m guilty, too. I—I took another woman’s husband.” She closed her eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath. Even with her newfound understanding, the words still hurt. “Even though I walked away, my sins followed. My guilt. I couldn’t get free—just like I cannot now.”

  The guard nodded. “I’ll never be free, either.”

  “But I realize now, God has forgiven me. I no longer have to live under the shame because He already paid my debt.”

  The man frowned, tiny creases forming in his brow. “Why would He do so?”

  “Because that’s how much He loves me. And He loves you just as much. It’s a free gift to all who believe.”

  He shook his head and strode to the chair. Picking up the book, he held it in front of Elizabeth. Emblazoned across the front, in gold letters, “HOLY BIBLE.”

  She gasped. “That’s what you’ve been reading all this time?”

  “One of your people gave me this. I sense much truth in it, but I don’t understand why He would love me as you say. I’m not worthy of anyone’s forgiveness.”

  A jolt of energy shot through Elizabeth’s limbs. She scooted forward, pushing up to her knees. “None of us are. My Papa was a doctor. He used to tell me a Bible story of when Christ sat to eat with tax collectors and prostitutes, the worst of the sinners. The scholars—men like you—asked Jesus why He would do such things. He said people who were well didn’t need a doctor, only the sick needed healing. Christ said he came to bring sinners—like us—to repentance.”

  The man nodded. “I am one of the sick. So were you.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t understand that until now.” She shifted on the hard floor. “I have some friends who could do a better job of explaining it.”

  His eyes gleamed. “George?”

  Elizabeth’s breath caught in her chest. “You know him?”

  The guard drew the Bible to his chest. “He gave me the book.” He sat back in the chair, his face crumpling. “I don’t know why the highbinders want you, but it can’t be for good.” He pushed up to his feet and drew a knife. “Hold still.”