The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,8

father to settle gambling debts. Her new owner had unbound Tien’s bound feet, then soaked them in saltwater over a period of several days so that she’d have the stability to work harder. But she was sold again to a cruel mistress and forced to work day and night or suffer abuse for laziness.

Dolly approached the ten-year-old girl now, telling herself that with some girls, gaining their confidence would take longer. Months, perhaps. All Dolly could do was extend compassion by speaking in soft tones to her students, smiling often, and pretending not to be ruffled or shocked by outbursts or scuffles. But Tien could not be allowed to get away with cruelty.

Dolly spoke quietly so the other girls wouldn’t overhear. “Do you know what lying is, Tien?”

The girl didn’t answer for a moment. Then her eyes flicked to Dolly’s briefly. In a barely audible voice, Tien said, “Not telling the truth.”

“Correct,” Dolly said. “When we lie, we lose the trust of another person. Do you know what trust is?”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Tien said, her tone hard.

It hurt Dolly to hear this young girl make such a pronouncement. “What about Miss Culbertson? Do you trust her?”

When Tien didn’t answer, Dolly continued, “When you don’t lie, other people will trust you. Don’t you want your teachers to trust you?”

The girl still didn’t answer, but Dolly knew she had heard and understood. Tien returned to the quilt squares she was piecing together in a neat line. But while Dolly watched, Tien’s stitches became uneven and sloppy, and Dolly knew the girl was doing it on purpose.

“Your sewing is beautiful, Tien,” Dolly said. “The first rows of stitches are very nice.”

The girl didn’t react, and Dolly gazed down at her dark hair, parted neatly in the middle and braided. The only break in her composure was the slightest tremble of her slim fingers. Dolly crouched beside her. “If you keep progressing, and keep telling the truth, someday, you could teach this class.”

Tien’s dark gaze lifted, and Dolly felt physically slapped by the disdain she saw in the girl’s eyes.

“I don’t want to live here,” Tien said in a sharp tone. “No.” She ripped out a row of stitches.

Dolly had pushed too far. Not every girl in the home considered this place a sanctuary, and Tien’s actions were a testimony of that.

Anna appeared in the doorway then, and her gaze took in the whole of the situation in an instant. Her brown eyes were the same color as her aunt’s, but Anna’s contained the liveliness of youth and expectation. It was refreshing to have such an ally, especially since Miss Culbertson had been feeling poorly for a couple of days.

Relief sang through Dolly, and she straightened and crossed to Anna.

“Miss Culbertson is asking for you,” Anna said in a quiet voice, avoiding further attention from the girls who had their heads bent over their sewing.

“Is she feeling better?” Dolly asked.

“Not much, but she’s working in her office,” Anna said. “I’ll oversee your class while you go speak to her.”

Dolly nodded. “Just a warning, Tien is not happy with me.” Perhaps it would be good for Dolly to leave the classroom for a bit. Tien could go back to her pretty stitching.

“All right,” Anna said. “I’ll keep a special eye on her.”

“Thank you.” Dolly strode to the office where she’d first been challenged about her loyalty to this position. Before knocking, she adjusted a pin to affix a piece of hair that had come loose. When she knocked lightly on the closed door, a voice called her inside.

Dolly stepped into the office to find that Miss Culbertson stood by the window, a small scrap of paper and a red cloth in hand. No lamps were turned on, and the early evening had left the office in shadow. The director turned, her expression graver than usual.

Without any preamble, the director said, “In two weeks, I leave for New Orleans to take one of the Chinese women to begin her married life. Some of these girls find love after their horrific experiences, but only after the potential groom is vetted by me. We also require that the men are Christians and hold to Christian values.”

Dolly nodded. Some of the other staff members had said as much.

“I’ve been paying attention to you this past week, Miss Cameron,” Miss Culbertson said. “I’ve watched your interaction with the girls, and I’m sensing a genuine affinity.”

The director wasn’t wrong. In only a short time, Dolly had grown fond of many

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