The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,32
women didn’t speak for a few moments as the sounds of nightly preparations from the women and girls echoed through the hallways outside the bedroom door.
“I heard Dong Ho call you mama,” Miss Culbertson said after a while.
Unable to hold back her smile, Dolly said, “Yes. A few of the younger girls do. Even Jiao, although she still misses her mother, Hong Leen, so much.”
Miss Culbertson reached over and patted Dolly’s knee. “For many of them, you are the only mother they’ll know. Even Tien.”
Dolly exhaled at this. “Do you think Tien will ever see me as someone not to resent?”
“I heard about the apples,” Miss Culbertson said. “I think you’re going in the right direction with her. Be patient. These girls have lost so much, and they know you understand what it’s like to lose a mother at a young age.”
Nothing could replace a mother’s love, that Dolly well knew. And no, she had not borne a child from her body, but the girls she served day and night felt as if they had become her own flesh and blood.
“Dong Ho is as sweet as they come,” Dolly said. “I’ll never forget the day she showed up on our doorstep, that tiny bundle of her earthly possessions gripped in her skinny arms.”
Miss Culbertson chuckled softy. “I believe she could have fought off two dragons if needed. She didn’t want anyone to touch her things.”
Dolly nodded at the fond memory. “Ah Cheng and I helped her into the bath, and still she kept an eagle eye on that bundle.”
“It took a week before she allowed you to peek inside.”
“Yes,” Dolly said. “Imagine having your most prized possessions be two chopsticks, a broken comb, and a couple of soiled garments.”
“Garbage to some people,” Miss Culbertson mused.
“Yet priceless as pearls to Dong Ho.” Dolly leaned back in the chair and smiled over at Miss Culbertson. “They will miss you.”
Tears gleamed in Miss Culbertson’s eyes. “I could not leave them to anyone else but you. Director or not, you will be their mama, and that is all that matters.”
“Do you ever wonder how your life might have turned out if you hadn’t come here to work?” Dolly asked.
“I stopped wondering that many years ago,” Miss Culbertson said. “I discovered that although my life is not conventional, I’ve been happy.”
Dolly considered this. Working so many hours and in the capacity that she did left little opportunity for socializing or finding a beau. Miss Culbertson had never married, likely because the director’s role at the mission home was all consuming, mentally, physically, and emotionally. But the mission work had its own rewards.
Somehow Dolly slept that night even though she knew Miss Culbertson would be leaving soon with her niece Anna. Dolly would dearly miss both women.
Mrs. Field arrived at the mission home the day after Miss Culbertson’s departure, so it was up to Dolly to show her around. The woman wore all black, as if she were in mourning, and the severity of her bun drawn back from her face made her eyes pull tight. Dolly guessed her to be in her early forties.
“Welcome,” Dolly said, leading Mrs. Field into the foyer. Dolly decided not to go by her first impression, but to stay open-minded.
“This place is so dark,” Mrs. Field said right away. “Why are the windows so high up?”
Dolly clasped her hands together. “The dark paneling creates a soothing atmosphere, and the high windows make the mission home more secure.”
Mrs. Field’s brows pulled together, deepening the lines on her forehead. Dolly continued the tour and made introductions. Mrs. Field asked a few questions, but mostly her expression gave away very little emotion. She didn’t even smile when a group of the younger girls sang a hymn for her.
Dolly accompanied her to the office where Miss Culbertson had first told Dolly about the many layers of work at the mission home.
Mrs. Field took a cursory look about the place. “This will do. If I have questions, I will seek you out.” And then Mrs. Field promptly shut the office door.
Dolly stared at the door for a moment, wondering if Mrs. Field just needed time to warm up. The woman had been recommended by the board, and she had accepted the position. Things didn’t have to always be done exactly as Miss Culbertson had done them. Dolly headed to the parlor, where she stood in the middle of the room for a few minutes as the sun’s rays dappled the furniture and rug.