The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,96

walked out the door to the waiting buggy.

Charles handed Dolly into the buggy, then turned to wave at the girls crowding the doorway. When he settled into the buggy and tapped the ceiling so that the driver would pull away, he looked over at Dolly. “That was something. It’s plain they adore you.”

His observation warmed Dolly to her toes. “They were certainly enamored of you, Mr. Bazatas,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them quite this animated with a guest before.”

Charles’s dark green eyes hadn’t left her since the buggy had started moving. “It’s good to see you.”

The sincerity in his voice made her pulse dance. “And it’s good to see you. I hope your journey was uneventful.”

Charles didn’t answer right away because he was gazing at her quite intently. “Everything was fine. I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long to come visit.”

“You’re busy,” she said. “I’m busy. That’s life.” They had written letters, and he had even telephoned once. But until he knocked on the door of 920 Sacramento, she wasn’t sure that what was happening between them was entirely real.

Yet here Charles Bazatas sat. Right across from her. In the flesh. His green eyes were just as she remembered, and his tousled blond hair practically begged for her to smooth it back.

He reached across the space between them and grasped her hand. “Did I tell you that it’s good to see you?”

“You did.” She loved his smile. The humor in his eyes. The energy that practically hummed from him. And now he was holding her hand, and she was enjoying it very much.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said. “We’re going to a nice restaurant for a five-course meal.”

“It’s the middle of the day.” Her protest was weak even to her own ears.

“I want to keep you to myself as long as possible,” he said. “Although I do wish I could stay another day.”

Dolly was very much wishing he could stay longer too.

The afternoon sun had slanted against the buildings by the time they reached the restaurant.

True to his word, Charles ordered a five-course meal. There was no way Dolly could eat everything brought to her, but she at least tried each dish. Conversation with Charles was easy, and she found herself laughing most of the time at his stories of college, of his football team, but then the conversation turned sober when he asked her about the articles he had read.

“Tell me about Yute Ying,” Charles asked.

Dolly set down her dessert fork. She could hardly eat another bite of the lemon cake anyway. “We rescued Yute Ying from a tenement house between Stockton and Dupont. The place is horrifically overcrowded. We found the ten-year-old preparing breakfast for her owners. Her appearance alone told us of the abuse and neglect she’d suffered.”

Charles’s forehead creased. “And now she’s doing well?”

Dolly sighed and looked down at her plate. “Yes. We won the case.” She met Charles’s gaze. “Yute Ying was with us for a year. She thrived at the mission home. Her eyes became clear, her hands, cracked and bleeding hands from so much work, healed, and she learned to smile.”

Charles reached for Dolly’s hand across the table and squeezed.

Dolly took comfort in the warmth of his touch and the compassion in his eyes. “All kinds of Chinese relatives suddenly surfaced after Yute Ying’s rescue. They pressed charges against me and the mission home.”

“Unbelievable,” Charles murmured.

“I’ll never forget Yute Ying as she stood in front of the grand jury,” Dolly said. “She was courageous as she testified of what she had experienced and suffered.”

“It’s hard to believe girls that young are brought from China for the slave trade,” Charles said in a quiet voice.

“It’s awful,” Dolly said. “The stories of the younger girls are even more tragic, since they are kidnapped from their families, or desperate parents are lied to. We try to do everything in our power to rescue the younger girls before they age and are sold into prostitution. When the authorities visit the mission home, they are greeted with the true purpose of our mission and how much the girls are thriving. The girls become educated and gain employable skills with us.”

Charles ran his thumb over her hand. “I can’t imagine what you face each and every day. I’m glad the authorities are giving these girls a chance to testify for themselves.”

Dolly took a sip of her drink. “Not all court appearances have a happy ending. Testifying can be traumatic for the girls, and