The Paper Daughters of Chinatown

by Heather B. Moore

  Dolly fully considered the Chinese girls at 920 Sacramento Street her daughters, and even now, she missed them with a longing she hadn’t expected.

  They walked for hours, and Charles pointed out his favorite restaurants and places to visit. Dolly appreciated the charm of the place, and she could hear the affection in Charles’s voice as he continued their tour. Yet his affection didn’t override the gnawing in her stomach, which had nothing to do with hunger. The more enthusiasm he expressed, the more Dolly longed for her own corner of the world.

  They stopped at another café as the sun was setting, splashing orange and pink across the elegant buildings of Philadelphia. Dolly ate slowly, savoring each bite. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew she wouldn’t be returning to Philadelphia. She didn’t know if she had the right to ask Charles to move to California, or if he would even want to. For her. Surely he could find happiness and fulfillment anywhere? If that were true, then so could she.

  But she couldn’t think of anyplace she would rather work and serve than Chinatown in San Francisco. Even the thought of leaving all her girls behind created an anxiety within her that she couldn’t tamp down until she thought of the alternative—letting Charles go. Not for two more years, or three, but forever.

  Would she have to choose?

  After they finished their meal, Charles walked her slowly to the pier through the emerging twilight. The pier was a hive of activity as the seamen prepared the vessel for sail. They hadn’t called for passengers to board yet, so Charles led her along the wooden planks.

  Every few moments, they stopped to watch an incoming sea vessel. Activity bustled about them, but Dolly felt that she and Charles were somehow separate from it all. They were both quiet, and although it wasn’t as if they had run out of conversation, it seemed that words couldn’t quite convey her emotions.

  As the shadows lengthened and night fell, the salty breeze lessened, becoming a blanket of warmth. The gulls quieted as they found alcoves and hovels in which to roost.

  When Charles drew her to a stop, she looked up into his eyes. Behind him, the glittering stars in the sky acted as a backdrop.

  “Dolly . . .” he whispered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

  She smiled, but her heart was already hurting with their impending good-bye.

  Charles leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Here they were, on a dock again, kissing. Just like their first kiss.

  Something urgent rose up in Dolly, and she slid her arms about his neck, pulling him closer. Charles didn’t hesitate, and wrapped his arms about her more fully. He kissed her again, this time deeper, and it was as if their hearts were in total communion. She could feel his tenderness and love toward her in this kiss. And she knew she would never kiss another man with so much of her heart.

  When Charles broke off the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, she felt different. Her pulse raced, and her heart wept with the knowledge of what she had to ask. Because it mattered. Greatly.

  “When?” Dolly whispered in the damp night air. “When do you think you’ll be in a position to marry me?”

  Charles lifted his head. “I’ll work for a pittance at first, but within a year, I’ll have enough to put money down on the apartment I showed you.” He smiled at her, his fingers pressing against her waist.

  The two years had now turned into three.

  He must have noticed the consternation in her expression because he added, “We’ve survived four years already; a little longer will be bearable, darling.”

  The warm, salty breeze, the creak of the sea vessels, the thousands of bright stars . . . all of it created a moment that could have been romantic, even magical.

  But only sorrow filled her heart. She knew without a doubt that Charles was completely loyal and devoted to her. Given her age, her childbearing years would be at an end soon. This moment was perhaps the first time Dolly truly realized she would not bear her own children.

  Charles already had a piece of her heart, yet it would never come back to her, not in the form of marriage, at least. I have dozens of daughters, Dolly thought, all of whom need me. And I need them.

  “I cannot leave them, Charles.” Dolly did not need to explain who “they” were. “They are my daughters. I never want to leave California. I want to be close to those I’ve worked for, served, loved, and rescued for the past nine years.”

  Charles’s smile faded at the serious tone in her voice. He didn’t answer right away. Finally he said, “I will come to California, then.”

  But she had seen and heard the hesitation. She placed a hand on his beloved cheek. His skin pulsed warm beneath her fingers. Oh, how she would miss him. “You would not be happy,” she said. “Your work is here. The light in your eyes when you speak of it cannot be denied.”

  Except now Charles’s eyes had filled with tears. “I will find something. I could help the mission home. I could—”

  “Charles.” She rested her hand on his chest. “You’ve told me multiple times that God has called you to this place. You’ve felt confirmations more than once that you’re here for a reason.”

  He clasped her hand. “Yes, but I can work anywhere.”

  It was a concession, and they both knew it. They had just spent several hours together, and most of the discussion had been about his work in Philadelphia and his future plans.

  “I love you, Charles Bazatas.” Her own tears burned now. “But God has called us to different missions. You belong here. I belong with my daughters in California.”

  Charles rubbed his face with one hand, then looked past her, staring at something unseen for several moments. His jaw tightened, and when he again met her gaze, she saw the resolve and determination there, edged with sorrow.

  “If you ever change your mind, my darling, you know where to find me,” he said in a fierce whisper.

  She nodded, tears making a trail along her cheeks.

  Then he cradled her face with his hands and kissed her one last time.

  “We must pass now . . . to the no less important . . . stories of the young Japanese women who have been helped and protected during the year, fourteen in number. The three under our care at present are Yorki, Roe and Asa, all bright, interesting girls, helpful and willing about the house work and their studies. Asa . . . only fifteen . . . was brought to San Francisco by an agent of the notorious ring of Japanese men, who make a business of importing these young girls.”

  —Donaldina Cameron, mission home report

  July 1905

  The moment Dolly caught sight of the shores of California was the completion of healing her heart that had been broken nearly a year before in Philadelphia. She gripped the rail as the steamship journeyed toward land. The sights, the smells, and the sounds enveloped her; even the fog was like its own welcoming committee. And Dolly relished every bit of it.

  Yes, she’d loved her year-long furlough, but only weeks into it, she had dearly missed her Chinese daughters and her devoted staff. Yet she knew that her soul needed this journey. After her tearful good-bye to Charles, she spent the next ten days on a steamer across the Atlantic. The high seas were thankfully mostly calm, and she spent a lot of time on deck basking in the fresh air and sunshine. She was met in Liverpool by a friend of her family who guided her to the train that took her to Inverness, Scotland.

  There she finally met her oldest sister, Isabella, along with Aunt Catherine, her mother’s sister. In Scotland, Dolly was no longer Miss Cameron, but a sister and a niece. She couldn’t believe how instantly she and Isabella connected. They spent their days together exploring the glens and walking the moors. Dolly’s heart sang as she visited the land of her ancestors. Bit by bit, the healing from leaving Charles began to take hold, although he was never far from her thoughts.

  Dolly enjoyed visiting castles and cathedrals alike. The best part was meeting cousins and family friends and
hearing the old family stories. The memories she made in Scotland would be cherished for the rest of her life, and she only wished that her other siblings could have accompanied her.

  On the first week of January, 1905, she boarded the Mombasa steamer, captained by a MacKenzie family friend, Captain Stephenson. Dolly’s next stops included Spain, the Near East, Calcutta, Rangoon, and finally, Hong Kong. The rush of anticipation that skipped along her skin at this last stop was hard to put into words. The docks teemed with Chinese, and everywhere she looked, she spied resemblances of those she loved back home.

  On mainland China, she made it a point to visit the Canton province, from which many of her girls had come. She was guided along the streets by a woman who was a former teacher of Chinese in San Francisco. They traveled the crowded streets of the cities and visited the smaller villages with their thatched roofs and sprawling rice fields. A major highlight included being reunited with N’gun Ho, one of the rescued slaves from San Francisco who had returned to China and married. In China, N’gun Ho had struggled with her in-laws accepting her Christian views, but she had eventually won over her mother-in-law. At every school and every mission home Dolly visited, she shared her message of stopping the sale of girls and women.

  The final leg of the voyage home to America was long and arduous, but worth every passing hour. Dolly would never forget China or its people and beauty.

  But San Francisco was home. As the steamer neared the harbor, her heart swelled at least two sizes. A crowd had gathered to await the arrival of the ship.

  Set apart from the main crowd was a smaller group. Dolly recognized her sisters and her niece, Caroline, along with several of the dark-haired girls who called her Lo Mo.

  Her daughters.

  Dolly wiped at the tears that were falling too fast for the wind to help dry them. She was home, and she laughed as a couple of the Chinese girls began jumping up and down, pointing at her. Lifting her hand high, she waved at the girls, then placed her hand over her heart. Her gaze soaked in their features: Lonnie, Dong Ho, Jiao, and Leung, all young women now. And of course, Tien was among the group. Her smile was full of light, and Dolly’s heart soared at the sight of her beloved daughters. As soon as Dolly was allowed, she walked off the steamship, right into the arms of her dearest loved ones.

  After hugging all the Chinese girls, Dolly next embraced Caroline and Jessie, as well as two of her other sisters, Katherine and Helen. She had sent them letters about Isabella and a quick note about how things had ended with Charles Bazatas.

  When Jessie drew away, she pinpointed Dolly with her gaze. “Are you all right?”

  Dolly knew she was referring to the breakup with Charles. That day spent with him in Philadelphia seemed ages ago. In the past year, Dolly had traveled the world, met so many people, and refocused her goals in life.

  “I am home with my daughters, and this is where I want to be.”

  Jessie studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Very well.”

  But Dolly didn’t miss the wistfulness in her sister’s eyes, the lost hope Jessie clearly felt, thinking her sister had turned down an opportunity to marry. Perhaps the last one. But with all the time Dolly had had to consider her relationship with Charles, both before and after seeing him in Philadelphia, she had come to realize their callings in life would always conflict.

  Even now, her Chinese daughters tugged her hand, each waiting impatiently for her turn to speak to Dolly next.

  “Thank you for coming,” Dolly told Jessie after giving Caroline another squeeze. “Come up to the mission home any time you are able.”

  On the buggy ride to the mission home, her daughters competed for conversation, giving her news and updates, while Tien sat silently beside her. Dolly looked forward to learning all that Tien had been up to, but it might be a while before they were alone.

  The first few hours at the mission home were filled with hugs and the girls taking turns telling her their stories. When Mei Lien stepped forward with her one-year-old son to embrace Dolly, Mei Lien whispered, “I still haven’t heard from him.”

  Dolly knew that the “him” she was referring to was Huan Sun. She wished she knew what had happened to him. For better or for worse, knowing would ease the pang in all their hearts. “We will keep praying,” she said.

  Dolly was introduced to several girls and young women who were new arrivals over the past year. Now wasn’t the time to learn their stories, but she hoped to soon.

  As the excitement and news updating slowed down, and bedtime approached, Dolly met with Wilmina Wheeler and Frances Thompson in the office. Tien joined them as well, since she’d been the primary interpreter on the rescues.

  “How has everything gone?” Dolly asked Frances.

  The woman had aged, but her eyes were bright, her smile genuine. “We’ve had an eventful year, as you can imagine.”

  Dolly had heard very little news, since she wasn’t able to receive letters as she traveled to so many places.

  “We spent most of the year defending the girls who are already here,” Frances continued. “Plenty of tong members came to the mission home, trying by any means possible to get their slaves back.”

  Dolly was dismayed, but not surprised. They never allowed the girls to go outside alone, and whenever they had visitors, they were careful to vet them.

  “A merchant asked after Kum Ying,” Frances said. “He said he wanted to marry her. He brought in an American lawyer and justice of the peace, along with a marriage license. Wilmina phoned the marshal, and we found out that the papers were fraudulent.”

  Dolly shook her head. “They are getting bolder.”

  “That’s not all.” Frances clasped her hands together. “We had a slave owner ask to see his former slave girl one more time. We didn’t let him, but we found out later that he had planned to abduct her and sell her again.”

  Frances and Wilmina continued with more stories, and Dolly listened intently, marveling at all she had missed—all she used to handle herself. Tien remained silent throughout most of the conversation.

  By the time Frances had finished sharing the bigger events, the hour had grown late.

  “Thank you for protecting the girls,” Dolly said in a quiet voice. Her time away from San Francisco had been much needed, but it made her ill to know how the mission home continued to be a target. “And those new girls, who are they? Some of them are Japanese, correct?”

  “Yes,” Wilmina confirmed. “We rescued nine Chinese girls and eight Japanese girls in the past year. We’ve also had more than thirty come to us for help in that time.”

  “We’re a beacon for the hopeless,” Frances said, “and a target for the ruthless.”

  Dolly couldn’t have agreed more. As long as there was corruption on all levels and among all races, the mission home’s work would never be finished.

  “And how is Mei Lien doing?” Dolly asked. “No word from Huan Sun yet?”

  “Nothing,” Frances said. “Although Zhang Wei and Ah-Peen Oie are still controlling parts of the slave trade, I’ve heard there was a falling out between the two.”

  “Perhaps one of them will leave Chinatown, then,” Dolly said. “Make it safer for Huan Sun to return.” She could relate to Mei Lien more now than ever. With Dolly’s failed relationship with Charles, her expectations dashed, she had a glimpse of what Mei Lien must be feeling.

  Tien remained behind after the other two women left the office. At last they could speak alone. Dolly looked over at her, so happy to see the young woman’s familiar face again.

  “How have you been, dear Tien?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  Tien’s smile was soft. “I’ve been busy.”

  Maybe it was because Dolly was completely exhausted, but she burst out laughing. “I’m sure you’ve been very busy. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

  “You were in the right place,” T
ien said, her smile widening. “We were all more than happy to work extra in your absence. It was an honor.”

  One minute she’d been laughing, and now Dolly felt like crying. “You have been a blessing to the mission home.”

  Tien’s gaze dropped then, and Dolly wondered if she’d said something wrong. She waited, though.

  Tien’s voice was hesitant when she spoke. “I want to learn more,” she said. “I know a lot, but I don’t have a good education.”

  Dolly frowned. “Your English is very good, and you do well in every class here.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Tien released a sigh. “I want to be educated in a college. And then I will return to the mission home and help how I should be helping.”

  Dolly stared at the young woman. “You want to go to college?”

  Tien nodded. “I know if I study very hard, I can get into college in a few years.”

  Dolly thought of the complications of a Chinese woman attending college in San Francisco. “It would have to be back east.”

  “I know,” Tien whispered.

  And in that whisper, Dolly understood the hesitancy in her friend’s voice. They would be separated for years. Tien, who had known only the mission home since she was a young girl, would be going into another world—possibly in two to three years, when she was eighteen or nineteen.

  Dolly smiled, although emotion had started to surface. “I believe you’ll be wonderful in college. And if you return here, we’ll be happy to have you. But if another opportunity were to arise with your new education, we would support that as well.”

  Tien’s gaze turned fierce. “I won’t be like Charles. I will come back, Lo Mo. This is my home.”

  This Chinese young woman was years away from that decision, but Dolly knew that if anyone could make a promise about the future, it was Tien.

  “Now, you are tired,” Tien said. “You sleep as long as you want and I will take care of things until you awake.”