The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,98
only a few years, right?” she said. “It’s not like I’d be pining for you anyway. I am very busy.”
He chuckled. Then his expression grew more serious than she had ever seen it. “Donaldina Cameron, what will I do when I miss you?”
She gave him a half smile, although it felt like her heart was cracking bit by bit. “Write to me?”
He nodded, then leaned forward.
She hadn’t expected him to kiss her, especially in the middle of the day, and in public, no less. But it seemed that Charles had no such qualms. His hands settled at her waist and pulled her close. His kiss was warm, brief, and over within a moment.
But Dolly knew she would never forget it.
When he released her, he slid his fingers into hers. “We’ll see each other soon; you’ll see. I’m already saving my pennies.”
Dolly doubted he had many pennies to begin with, but she smiled anyway. She wanted to enjoy every last second and minute with this man before she had to say good-bye.
“When are you leaving?”
“Three weeks,” he said.
Dolly’s heart twinged. She exhaled slowly, then smiled. “You will help many people.”
“I can only hope.”
They continued to walk along the pier, and Dolly felt the weight of each passing moment, counting down to their final farewell.
When Charles helped Dolly down from the buggy in front of the mission home, he pulled her into an embrace. She held onto him, her pulse throbbing, her heart aching, and hoped that this separation would somehow be bearable. When he drew away, his gaze was tender, and his words only for her. “You have my heart, Donaldina Cameron. And I will miss you every day.”
Dolly didn’t want to let him go, but she could never ask him to give up his dream. Even now, the purpose and confidence in his eyes bore into her. She didn’t want to hold him back or watch him regret anything.
“I will miss you every day too, Charles,” she whispered at last. Then she stepped away from the man who had brought so much light to a forgotten corner of her life.
Holding back her tears until she was inside the door, she hurried down the corridor to her office.
Finally, she was alone and could wrap her mind around all that had changed in her life and in her heart. She sat at her desk and gazed out the window into the deepening colors of the approaching evening. She hadn’t given up on the idea of marriage, exactly, but over the last weeks, she had allowed hope to bloom as the idea of marrying Charles had formed into a possibility. No, she hadn’t known how all the specifics would work. Perhaps she imagined serving on the board of the mission home and staying involved as much as possible.
She had ignored the deep ache that idea had brought to her soul because she’d fallen in love with Charles. But now . . . a small part of her was relieved. She would have more time with her daughters while Charles was in training. Immediate decisions about her future would be delayed. She could continue in her work.
As if the heavens were agreeing, Tien cracked open the office door.
Dolly dried her tears and turned with a smile.
But Tien wasn’t fooled. “You are sad.”
Dolly’s chest hitched. “Charles is . . . he’s going back east to attend school.”
Tien’s brow wrinkled. “For how long?”
Dolly looked away. “Years,” she whispered.
Tien entered the room and sat in the chair across from the desk. “He is a good man.”
Dolly could only nod, and when their gazes connected again, she sensed that Tien understood things far beyond her years. Perhaps that was what happened when one’s childhood was ripped away. The two didn’t speak for a moment; it wasn’t necessary. Dolly knew this melancholy would pass soon enough. Tomorrow would be a new day, and there would be challenges aplenty to distract her.
Tien held up a folded piece of paper. “This note arrived while you were gone.”
She handed it over, and Dolly scanned the short message. It seemed that her few moments of feeling sorry for herself had already come to an end. “We need to leave immediately,” she told Tien. “This girl’s mistress is away from Chinatown for the day, and if we hurry, we can save her from more atrocities.”
“While the world today is convulsed with war, our Home too has not been exempt from its share of exciting events . . . as some poor slave girl or