“Not for men like him.”
“I see.” Liáng nodded thoughtfully. “Do you believe in regret?”
O’Dell opened his mouth and then closed it and said nothing.
“Have you never regretted something you have done? Tried to undo it?”
“Some things cannot be fixed,” O’Dell snapped.
“I agree. That is why,” he said softly, “all of us need a savior.”
At O’Dell’s snort of derision, Liáng changed the subject. “But that topic is, perhaps, for another day. Today I wish to tell you news that Bao gave me this morning.”
“You trust him?”
“I find that I do. As you know, Fang-Hua Chen sent Bao to Denver to arrange for Morgan and Su-Chong’s escape and to bring Su-Chong back to his mother. Fang-Hua made it clear to Bao that he must not fail. Nevertheless, Su-Chong escaped from Bao’s men. Bao was prudent to fear for his life and that of his wife and the child she carried.”
“Too bad.”
“It is too bad,” Liáng replied, his voice dropping, “but both his wife and his child died in childbirth in December.” He looked steadily at O’Dell who finally had to look away.
“Bao believed their deaths were just punishment for the evil he helped perpetrate on Mei-Xing. He felt that to make complete atonement for his shame, he should tell her parents what he—what he and Fang-Hua Chen—had done. After he did that, he intended to kill himself. More justice, you see.”
O’Dell said nothing but watched and listened, a frown on his brow.
“The servants saw him standing across the street from the Li’s home. I was visiting Mr. and Mrs. Li. I should mention that they are members of my church.”
He let that sink in for a moment. “I went out to speak to Bao and found he was crazed with grief and guilt. He told me everything that day.”
Liáng glanced up at O’Dell. “Well, you must understand that I could not believe it! I thought he was mad!”
He shook his head, remembering. “But the more he talked, the stronger was the ring of truth upon his words. He wished me to tell Mr. and Mrs. Li, but I convinced him that to confess all to Mei-Xing’s parents would be cruel and unwise at this time. Instead, I would go to this place he spoke of, this Corinth in Colorado and, if God gave me favor, I would bring Mei-Xing home.”
“Why would you not tell her parents?”
“Would you have me tell a father and mother that their daughter is alive when I have no proof? Worse, that she has been defiled and debased? I could not be so heartless a man.”
Liáng raised his eyebrows. “And you perhaps do not grasp the dynamics of the situation. These are two powerful families, Mr. O’Dell, accustomed to meting out justice on their own terms. They have men who have sworn allegiance to them. One might call them armies, you understand.”
He sighed deeply. “What do you suppose will happen the day Jinhai Li confronts Wei Lin Chen with the truth of his daughter’s disappearance? What if Mei-Xing herself were to return from the dead and testify to what was done to her?”
O’Dell shook his head slowly and then quietly muttered, “War.”
Liáng nodded in agreement. “Yes. And there is more. Mr. and Mrs. Li were broken after they believed Mei-Xing died by her own hand. Broken and filled with guilt. In their pain and brokenness, they sought for peace of some kind. One of their household told them of Jesus and sent them to speak to me. They gave their lives to the Savior, Mr. O’Dell. They belong to him now.”
O’Dell heard what Liáng was saying, but he couldn’t get past the first sentence. Broken. They were broken. He pushed at the words but they would not go. They whispered in the back and corners of his mind even as O’Dell struggled to hear and grasp all Liáng said.
“What I mean to tell you today are two things, my friend. The first is that Jinhai Li would not go to war against the Chens. He is an honorable man but he is also a changed man. However, that does not mean that Wei Lin Chen could allow such an accusation to stand. His ‘honor’ would not permit it. Do you follow me?”
O’Dell did. “It would be a bloodbath,” he whispered.
“Very possibly.”
O’Dell swept a hand across his eyes. “And the other thing?”
Liáng roused himself. “Yes, the other thing. I said before, what if Mei-Xing were to testify to what was done to her? Bao believes that Wei Lin Chen does not know of his wife’s actions. Fang-Hua is a powerful and wealthy figure in her own right. Nevertheless, the family is all important. Her disgrace and dishonor would be Wei Lin Chen’s disgrace and dishonor. She would never permit this.”
“Why does this Bao think Wei Lin Chen is ignorant of his wife’s actions?” O’Dell demanded.
“Because Fang-Hua secretly—without Wei Lin Chen’s knowledge—sent men to Denver to seek out and destroy Mei-Xing.”
O’Dell’s sharp intake of breath jangled his ribs with pain. He felt his heart crush; he could not breathe. “They took her.” He choked on the words. “Fang-Hua’s men!”
Liáng shot O’Dell a shrewd look “Ah. Then why does Bao report that Fang-Hua is furious beyond measure? He reports that, after weeks of searching for her, the men have returned from Denver empty-handed.”
The vise on O’Dell’s heart loosened. With difficulty he stood up and began pacing, breathing again. “So they did not take her.”
“It would seem so.”
“What about Morgan?”
Liáng shook his head emphatically. “Bao knows that Fang-Hua allowed him to go his way.”
“Who does that leave?”
“Only Su-Chong Chen,” Liáng replied.
~~**~~
Chapter 35
(Journal Entry, March 10, 1910)
Emily’s friend Viola Lind has taken our Gretl under her wing. She is determined to help Gretl prepare for and secure a position as cook for a good family. To that end, Gretl is to write out three full weeks of menus.
Of course, all of us in the house have ideas and we all wish to see our favorite dishes included. We have placed a chalk board in the kitchen. Everyone is free to write their suggestions on the board. Gretl will add the dishes of her choosing to her menus.
This has proven to be great fun! On any given day the most eclectic list of entrees, side dishes, garnishes, and desserts can be found on this little board. It is quite amazing, actually, to see the variety. Marit is helping Gretl by writing out the recipes to her Swedish specialties.
When Viola has approved the final menus, we will take them to a printer to be set in elegant type and have a number of copies printed. Viola will present the menus to her friends and acquaintances until a prospective employer asks to interview Gretl.
Lord, please bless Viola for helping this young woman to achieve her dream!
—
While the health of most everyone in the house continued to improve, a few setbacks did surprise them. Maria and Flora’s coughs and sniffles returned for several days as did Flinty’s. That same week Grant and Joy experienced a return of fever and kept to their bed two days.
And after all had recovered and the doctor again declared the house free of influenza, Breona unexpectedly spiked a high fever accompanied by sneezing and coughing. Tabitha sent her to her room and called Doctor Murphy’s office once more.
She kept the fireplace in Breona’s bedroom burning and attempted to nurse her, but found her patient quite uncooperative. The truth was that a sick Breona exhibited a foul temper to everyone.
“I don’t believe I have known Breona to even complain of a cold in the year and a half I have known her,” Joy remarked when Tabitha, in a huff, reported Breona’s bad behavior to her and to Rose. “And I have never seen her abed during the day!”
“She is too stubborn to admit to being sick,” Tabitha fumed. Only her threats that Breona could endanger little Will kept the grumpy but ill woman moored to her room.
Thankfully, Breona’s illness was short-lived. After a few days she joined Flinty in the great room to co
nvalesce. She spent one day idling in a chair near a warm fire before, shrugging off all cautions, she declared herself “fit as a fiddle” and resumed her duties.
—
Mei-Xing avoided sleeping or laying in her bed, the site of her many sins. She lay on the floor of her room, begging God for forgiveness. She confessed to ignoring the warnings of the Holy Spirit and choosing her own desires instead. But although she had repented of her sins, her heart still felt like lead in her breast.
As she withdrew from Su-Chong, he had changed toward her, too. It was as though, as the fever of their lovemaking had cooled, they had both stepped back to look at each other, and had not liked what they saw.
Lately when he had gone in the night to steal food he had also stolen alcohol. The next day he would drink steadily and descend into a dark and foul mood. Then he would watch her.
Mei-Xing kept as still and as quiet as she could during those days. Most nights she slept alone, but other nights . . . he came in the dark and forced himself on her. She endured the act as she had in Corinth, drawing in on herself, wandering far away in her mind.
Only it was different than in Corinth. There she had been taken and forced against her will; here she had allowed it to begin. She was as much at fault as he.
O God! Do you see me? I am filled with shame and grief. Please . . .
—
That morning Gretl and Flora delivered breakfast to the table and rang the small bell used to announce meals. When it was time to eat, Mr. Wheatley and Flinty had not yet arrived at table.
Rose looked up. Mr. Wheatley stood in the dining room doorway. Tears streamed down his face.
“Flinty,” he sobbed, placing a gnarled hand on his head in anguish.
Tabitha leapt to her feet, knocking over her chair . . .
They found Flinty lying on his side, curled under his blankets, a hand tucked under his pillow. His mouth curved in a slight, peaceful smile.
Tabitha knelt by the bed and touched his cold face, caressed his fading red hair. “Oh, my dear old friend! I thought we had saved you!” she cried, breaking down completely. She remained there, sobbing, until Rose and Breona gently pulled her away from Flinty’s side.
“Heart failure,” the doctor murmured after examining Flinty. “I believe his old heart just quit.”
Tabitha was in agony. “But he was doing so well! I . . . I thought he had recovered from the flu!” She wept in Rose’s arms but could not be consoled. “What did I do wrong? I thought he was going to be fine! I should have taken better care of him!”
“Now see here, Miss Tabitha!” Doctor Murphy spoke sharply. “Mr. Flynn did not die from the influenza or from anything lacking in his care. His heart was old and tired. I’m sure the flu weakened him, but his heart had simply run its course.”
He cleared his throat. “Now, young lady, if you are going to be a nurse, you must understand that you will sometimes lose patients. You must prepare yourself ahead of time to be strong and professional. I expect you to mourn the loss of your friend, but I will also expect you to adopt the calm attitude of which I speak.”
Tabitha lifted a wet face from Rose’s shoulder.
The doctor fumbled in his pocket and retrieved a small pamphlet. “I brought this for you,” he directed, handing the folded paper to her. “God has given you a calling. I believe you should prayerfully consider his direction.”
Tabitha stared at the wording on the pamphlet: Training School for Nurses, University Hospital, Boulder, Colorado.
—
Friends arrived from Corinth to pay their respects to Flinty, including the Kalbørgs, Sheriff Wyndom, his nephew Luke, and Domingo Juarez. A large wreath arrived from Arnie and Anna Thoresen.
As for those who lived at Palmer House, they thanked God with many tears for the time Flinty had spent with them and laid him to rest with care. Grant delivered the eulogy; Pastor Carmichael spoke fitting words over Flinty’s grave and prayed for them all.
At dinner following the service, Joy murmured, “We thought we were saving Flinty from loneliness in Corinth, but how lonely this table feels without him!”
Tabitha broke down and sobbed, “I can’t forget how I objected to his coming, how selfish and hard-hearted I was! Oh, I shall miss him so . . . Please forgive me!”
Breona leaned over and pulled Tabitha to her shoulder. “Whist? Naught t’ f’rgive, Miss Tabitha.”
~~**~~
Chapter 36
(Journal Entry, March 30, 1910)
Peace has descended on Palmer House, Lord, but it is a somber one. We are learning to live without another we love so dearly. Last evening Grant read comforting words to us from 1 Thessalonians:
But I would not have you
to be ignorant, brethren,
concerning them which are asleep,
that ye sorrow not,
even as others which have no hope.
For if we believe
that Jesus died and rose again,
even so them also which sleep in Jesus
will God bring with him.
For this we say unto you
by the word of the Lord,
that we which are alive and remain
unto the coming of the Lord
shall not prevent them which are asleep.
For the Lord himself
shall descend from heaven with a shout,
with the voice of the archangel,
and with the trump of God:
and the dead in Christ shall rise first:
Then we which are alive and remain
shall be caught up together
with them in the clouds,
to meet the Lord in the air:
and so shall we ever be with the Lord.
Dear Maria did not quite understand that “them which are asleep” refers to those who have died and left this life, but Grant explained it so beautifully. He said, “When we die, our bodies fall asleep, to rest and wait for the return of Jesus. When he awakens us, our bodies will be restored, not to their fragile former state, but to one that is incorruptible and eternal.”
How you fed and strengthened us with the Bread of Life in that moment, Lord! We have so much hope for eternity.
—
“I need your help,” Bao whispered to Liáng.
They had been meeting secretly in small cafés and out-of-the way tea houses for weeks. They talked. Liáng read to Bao from his Bible. Bao asked questions about the Christian God, and Liáng did his best to answer them. Each time they parted, Liáng prayed for Bao.
Today the look of grief and shame Bao usually wore was overwritten by one of panic. “What has happened?” Liáng demanded.
Bao looked about the café nervously. “Madam Chen. She has asked me to come to her house today.” He glanced at his watch. “In less than two hours.”
“Do you know why?” Liáng became as concerned as Bao.
“You know that she is obsessed with finding and destroying Mei-Xing. A live Mei-Xing is Fang-Hua’s greatest threat. Two days ago she suggested that I should take men and go back to Denver to seek her out.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I have never before answered her so, so . . . defiantly. I said, how can you ask me, a grieving father and widower, to leave my family’s graves so soon? She was, I believe, astounded at my, my brash behavior, as was I.” He shivered.
“What did she say then?”
“She just stared at me, but I could see her scheming, calculating mind at work. Finally she dismissed me. I-I am not sure why.”
Liáng studied Bao and saw what Fang-Hua must have seen: A young man whose clothes hung upon his body; his lank, unwashed hair, and eyes sunken from lack of sleep.
“Why do you think she calls you back today?”
Bao stared absently at his tea. “You know my wife . . . Ling-Ling . . . was a maid in the Li home?”
Liáng nodded. Bao had confessed that Ling-Ling was part of his payment for helping Fang-Hua debase Mei-Xing.
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“She was so pretty.” Bao’s voice dropped away, and Liáng wondered briefly if his young friend was losing hold of his senses. He reached across the table and grasped Bao’s wrist.
Bao looked down at Liáng’s hand on his wrist and then into Liáng’s face. “Hear me. Ling-Ling’s father’s older sister had a son. His widow works in the kitchen in the Chen home. She has been with the Chen family for more than 20 years. Her eldest daughter—a second cousin to Ling-Ling—is a servant in the house also. She, she overheard Fang-Hua tell one of her men . . .”
He stared with anxious eyes into Liáng’s face. “You must see that I am also a threat to Fang-Hua. I was not as long as my wife and child bound me to her evil plans. But now . . . The girl told her mother who passed the message until it reached me.”
Liáng nodded, prodding him to finish.
“Fang-Hua now has reason to mistrust my loyalty. If I refuse to do her bidding today, they have been told to . . .” He tore his watch from his pocket and looked again. “An hour and a quarter.” He was trembling.
“I cannot go to Fang-Hua. I cannot, I will not do this vile thing she wishes of me. I cannot even pretend I will. Minister Liáng, if you can help me, I no longer wish to die . . . not before, not before I make this right—” He covered his mouth and could speak no further.
Liáng gripped his wrist tighter. “I can hide you, Bao, for a time. Is that what you wish?”
Bao nodded, his hand still across his mouth, eyes skittering anxiously around the room.
—
“How many?” Su-Chong demanded one night, his brows furrowed.
“H-how many what?” she’d stuttered, fearful of his question. He had been drinking steadily all day. Mei-Xing knew what drink could do to an already unstable man.
“How many men have you given yourself to?” he repeated coldly. The disdain dripping from his curled lips chilled her.
She watched him, finding again in his eyes and manner all the reasons she had broken their engagement: His indulgent upbringing; the explosive, unpredictable anger; his mother’s ruthlessness. The incipient madness.
I have so deceived myself, she mourned.
The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) Page 24