The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,19
as 22 years. Sing Ho says her mother died in San Francisco and her father returned to China—that her parents owed money and that she entered upon a life of sin to pay their indebtedness. Sing Ho was a victim of the opium habit and after spending a night in the Home decided to return to the brothel—she could neither eat nor sleep.”
—Margaret Culbertson, mission home record, 1892
1895
The day Miss Culbertson left for New Orleans to deliver a bride to her new husband, Dolly felt the director’s absence keenly. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she could manage the household for a few short weeks, but what if a call for a rescue came?
Since the night Tien had scratched Dolly, the girl hadn’t spoken a word to her. In sewing class, she kept her head down, her eyes on the shirts they were making. Dolly’s scratch had healed quickly, but the memory of the frightened, crying girl huddled at the end of the hallway hadn’t faded at all. So it was with more compassion that Dolly viewed Tien, and not as a troublemaker.
Now Dolly walked by Tien as she routinely checked on each girl’s progress. With around thirty girls and women in the house, sewing and repairing clothing was an unending task. Tien had returned to her neat, even stitching, her nimble fingers working quickly and efficiently.
“Very nice, Tien,” Dolly said in a soft tone.
The girl flinched and hunched her shoulders, but she didn’t slow her pace or make deliberately sloppy stitches. Was this progress between them? Dolly could only hope.
Next she checked on the other girls, and most of them beamed under her praise. The younger girls were missing their “mama”—Miss Culbertson, who had become the mother that many of these girls had either lost or never had.
When Dolly helped Lonnie with her sewing, Lonnie promptly threw her arms about Dolly’s legs and said, “You’re a nice mama.”
Dolly smiled and hugged her back. “Well, thank you.” She never took affection for granted. She only wished Tien would be more receptive. The girl’s pain seemed to be a living thing that kept her in a shell of loneliness.
Just then, Anna rushed into the classroom and motioned for Dolly to come out. The woman was out of breath, and the urgency on her face told Dolly that something serious had happened. She excused herself from her students as calmly as she could and met Anna outside the room.
“Officer Cook is downstairs,” Anna said. “He’s brought word about a Chinese woman who used to live at the mission home. She married and moved to China, but now she has returned to San Francisco with her two children. Hong Leen is very ill and is asking for us, but the authorities won’t let her out of the immigration station unless we vouch for her. We need to go speak to the immigration officers.”
Dolly wasn’t sure who Hong Leen was, but the name was familiar. Regardless, she grabbed her cloak to protect her from the potential rain and hurried out of the house with Anna.
Officer Cook waited on the porch and greeted Dolly with a tip of his hat. The scent of his cigarette reminded Dolly of the last time she’d seen him—on the rescue with Miss Culbertson.
His smile beneath his mustache was brief, but his eyes remained warm. “Are you doing well, Miss Cameron?”
“I am,” she said. “Thank you. I see that you are in one piece as well.” Officer Cook seemed much less imposing in the light of day, even though the day was a gray one. That might also have had to do with the fact that he wasn’t carrying a sledgehammer.
“Things have been quiet lately,” Cook said, as they continued toward the docks.
“I suppose that’s good news,” Dolly said.
“We’ve had these calm spaces before.” Cook touched the brim of his hat to acknowledge a passerby. “It only means that messages are being intercepted.”
This didn’t sound good at all. “Is there a way to find out if someone needs help without a note?”
“All types of messages, on paper or in person, are equally dangerous.” Cook pointed his chin toward a storefront they were passing. “Notice how the shop owners disappear into their shops as we approach.”
Dolly looked down the street they were walking on. Things had suddenly gone quiet. “You’re recognized.”
“We’re recognized,” Cook corrected. “Word is already out about the tall white woman from the mission home.”
It was a strange thing to consider, even though Miss Culbertson had warned her.