by Karey White
Chapter Twelve
Twelve months later, to the day that Mrs. Tan had asked Mae to be her apprentice, Mrs. Tan did not rise from her bed in the morning. Mae found her curled on her side, eyes closed, clutching a thick, ancient-looking coin.
Mae placed a hand on the matchmaker’s forehead. The old woman’s skin was much too cool. “You are cold,” she said, searching the room for another blanket, then gently laying it over the woman’s coverlet.
Mrs. Tan’s eyes fluttered open. “Come,” she rasped, reaching out her hand.
Mae sat next to the matchmaker and held onto her papery hand. The women’s wrinkles were deep, her brow furrowed, but Mae had come to love every feature about Mrs. Tan.
“Here,” Mrs. Tan whispered, pressing the coin into Mae’s hand. “Take this coin. Keep it with you always. It holds the powers of matchmaking. The power of the coin will only work if you forsake your own true love in order to bring together others in love.”
Mae’s throat tightened as the coin slipped into her palm.
“I need to tell you one more thing,” Mrs. Tan said.
Mae leaned closer.
“This coin has been handed down from matchmaker to matchmaker for generations. I’ve held it for three generations.”
Mae stared at her. “How is that possible?”
Mrs. Tan’s pale lips curved into a smile. “I gave up finding love for myself.” She moved her hand on top of Mae’s and squeezed gently. “If you promise to trade your own chance at love to help others find theirs, then you can live for generations. And only when you are ready to pass on the power of the matchmaker will you move onto the next world and join your ancestors.”
Mae looked down at her hands clasped in Mrs. Tan’s. Eyes burning with tears and throat swelling, Mae spoke in a thick voice. “Did you give up love?”
Mrs. Tan opened her eyes for the briefest moment. “He was never mine to begin with.” She lifted one of her hands to Mae’s face and touched her cheek. “Love comes in many forms, my dear.”
Mae was nodding before Mrs. Tan finished. She’d come to love this elderly woman. She’d watched as Mrs. Tan brought happiness to so many couples in the past twelve months, matching true love with true love’s desire.
“I understand,” Mae said. Then with a pounding heart she added, “I accept the power of the matchmaker as my own. I will take good care of it.”
“I knew you would,” Mrs. Tan said, her voice trembling. “From the moment I dreamed about you, I knew I had found the perfect matchmaker.”
Epilogue
The years passed swiftly, and Miss Pearl aged slowly. Pearl did not always live in Shanghai, although she considered it her home, and returned when possible. She was in Shanghai on a day of rain and low clouds when someone knocked on her door, and she opened it to see a man from her past. Her long distant past.
His shoulders were thin, his hair speckled with gray, and his face lined. But he was the same Chen.
“I’m looking for Mae Li. Is she your mother?” he said, standing at her doorway, when Pearl could only stare in astonishment. She had not heard the name of Mae for decades.
Pearl supposed she might, one day, meet Chen again. But the years had brought death to so many that she’d had little hope of ever seeing him. Yet, here he stood, at her front door, with rain dripping off his coat. His eyes dark and seeking—just as they always had been.
“I am Mae,” she said. “I have no daughter.”
He blinked, as if trying to reconcile the girl who’d left his village so long ago, with the still young woman standing before him now. “I thought it might be you, but I couldn’t quite believe it until I spoke to you,” he said, in a voice deeper and slower than before. “You have not changed.”
Pearl simply said, “Shanghai has been kind to me.”
“I saw you three days ago near a coffee house, and I followed you here.” He looked down at his feet for a moment, as if he were trying to collect his thoughts. “It took me this long to find the courage to knock on your door.”
Pearl nodded calmly, even though her thoughts were spinning and tumbling against each other. She opened the door wider. “Come in out of the rain. I’ll get some tea.”
He stepped in, moving past her, and she caught his scent. So familiar that it made her heart ache.
“Oh, and my name is Pearl now,” she said.
Chen simply nodded and didn’t question why she might change her name. He shrugged out of his coat, and Pearl couldn’t help but notice his new thinness. Perhaps it wasn’t new at all, but only to her.
“Have a seat,” she said, motioning toward the sitting room. “I’ll only be a moment.” She turned away, feeling his gaze on her long after she’d entered the kitchen and begun to collect the tea with shaky hands.
She didn’t need to look into the mirror to know that she was wearing the comb he’d given her so many years before, for she’d worn it every day since becoming the matchmaker. When she returned, he was standing, facing the windows, his hands behind his back.
His stance brought back so many memories, that Pearl nearly lost her hold on the tea tray. Instead, she crossed the room with determined steps and set the tray down. Chen turned, his expression open, watchful. He was biding his time; this Pearl knew without a doubt. It had taken him three days to knock on her door—three days of considering what he might say to her.
He sat as she poured the tea, then murmured a thank you as he accepted a cup. Their hands didn’t touch; they didn’t need to. Pearl could feel his presence in the room with every inch of her body, even after so many years.
“Tell me about yourself,” Pearl said, pushing forward, as had been her nature since she was a small girl.
Chen looked into his tea cup as if he could read the tea leaves themselves. A heartbeat passed. Then two. Finally, he looked up.
At that moment, Pearl almost wished she hadn’t invited him into her home. His gaze told her all . . . he had missed her. He hadn’t forgotten her. Not for one day.
“Lian passed away last year,” he said.
Pearl’s nod was automatic.
“I have a son and a daughter,” he continued, his gaze peering at her. Deeply. “Both married now.”
Another automatic nod.
“You did not marry?” he asked.
“No,” Pearl said. A whisper. “I am a matchmaker.”
Chen smiled. Oh, how she’d dreamed of his smile. It hadn’t changed, not in all the decades they’d been separated. “I heard.” He set his tea down so softly there wasn’t even a clink. “I made a few inquiries about the lovely woman in this house.”
She blinked back the threatening tears; she would have plenty of time to cry later.
He was looking at her hair. “You still have the comb?”
She could only nod. Words would undo her.
He rose to his feet, slower than he might have in the years before. When he walked around the tea table and moved to her side, she closed her eyes. It was almost as if seeing him up close in her small sitting room was too much to comprehend. Closing her eyes would make it less overwhelming.
“May I?” he said.
She knew what he was asking, so she simply exhaled.
He removed the comb, and her still-black hair tumbled down, past her shoulders. It was only then that she opened her eyes and looked up at him.
He was gazing at the comb, turning it reverently in his hands. “Pearl.” He said in a way that wasn’t a question, nor a statement, but a caress.
Yes, she wanted to say. I kept it all these years. Because of you. Because of our love. But she didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. He already knew.
“Mae,” he whispered, reaching his hand toward hers.
She let him take it, and she let him draw her to her feet. They stood nearly eye to eye now. His hand sent warm pulses straight to her heart.
“I am free now,” he said.
The tears came anyway. It was impossible to stop them. Pearl lifted her hand and
stroked his face.
His eyes closed this time, and he leaned into her touch.
“I have never stopped loving you,” he said.
Her breath hitched. So many years passed; so many years lost. Yet, they had both had their secret love, stronger than time.
Chen’s eyes were open again, studying her. “Will you marry me?”
Pearl’s heart soared, and she had a sudden desire to laugh. Instead, she lifted up on her toes and kissed his cheek. It was only for a moment, but the sweetest moment she could ever remember.
“I’ve loved you my whole life, Chen,” she said. “But I cannot marry you.”
The sadness in his eyes broke her heart all over again.
She curled her hands around his. “I’ve committed to helping others find their true love. I can’t explain everything, but it has required great sacrifice on my part.”
Chen brought her hands up to his lips and kissed them. Then he lowered his forehead to rest against hers. “You are happy?” he whispered.
“I am,” she whispered back.
She didn’t know how long they remained there, their foreheads touching, their hands clasping, their eyes closed, breathing in each other’s presence.
Finally . . . Chen lifted his head then touched her cheek. “Good-bye. I will think of you every day.”
She nodded. “Good-bye.” She waited for the pain to come, to buckle her knees, but instead, peace swelled over her, warming her through. Chen had lived his life; she’d lived hers. They had both loved and lost and then found love again.
Chen pressed the comb into her hand, and Pearl wrapped her fingers around the solid smoothness.
One more touch, one more kiss on the cheek, and Chen was gone, into the rain.
Pearl stood still until the rain stopped and the room grew dark with the approaching night. It was only then that she twisted her hair back up, replaced the comb, and cleared the tea things.
She sat in the place Chen had been, imagining it still held his warmth, and looked out through the window as the clouds parted and the moon cast its glow upon Shanghai.
Somewhere, Chen was looking at the same moon, thinking of her. Pearl could feel it. He would always be in her heart; and now she knew that she’d always been in his. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, Pearl smiled to herself. She had much work to do. Many matches to complete.
The years came and went and Pearl put her whole heart into matchmaking, taking comfort in knowing that her true love still loved her. Carriages were replaced by cars. The British defeated the Qing dynasty. The Treaty of Nanking was signed. Buildings burned. Buildings were rebuilt. Storms blew through the city. Time brought larger ships, more people, then the creation of the international settlement and French concession. Shanghai became an international trade center, staggering under the weight of prosperity and the corruption it brings—home to beggars, gangsters, warlords, gamblers, artists, European millionaires, and world-renowned courtesan houses.
But through it all, Chen remained forever hers, then, now, and into the never-ending tomorrow. After all, that was the truth about true love.
Dearest Patron,
In exchange for my acceptance of the power to match true love, I’ve traded my chance at reclaiming my own love. This I do with honor. I only ask that you open your own hearts and consider new possibilities as you read about my matchmaking ventures through the world and across time. It is my deepest hope that you’ll find your own true love in your life’s journey.
With much love and luck,
Miss Pearl
The Power of the Matchmaker Series: 12 Love Stories in 12 Months
Table of Contents
Read the matchmaker’s story to find out where it all starts . . .
The Power of the Matchmaker Series: 12 Love Stories in 12 Months