The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) (9 page)

Grant shook his head. “I don’t know. The one thing I do seem
to recall is the old Blackie curled up near . . . a stove? Did
he have a basket near the stove?”

“Yes, he did,” Joy replied, smiling softly. “You loved your
Blackie so much. He was a great comfort to me after you . . .
you were gone. We both missed you so.”

Grant tipped her chin toward him and kissed her. “What do we
need to do next?”

“Well . . . the shop must be ready to receive
the merchandise before it arrives. So we must complete—or nearly complete—the
refurbishment before we send Billy to Omaha to empty the warehouse and ship the
furnishings.”

“Besides taking down the fitting room walls and making the
arched doorways, what other refurbishments did you have in mind?” Grant asked.

They chatted enthusiastically back and forth, exchanging
ideas, until they reached the trolley stop. Joy was scribbling a list when they
stepped onto the trolley for the ride home.

—

Esther was in love. She felt it in her heart, in its deep
longing. The more she saw of Cal, the more she craved him. His presence made
her feel safe; his thoughtfulness made her feel valued.

He was becoming more and more helpful with the house’s
business, too. Their clientele had picked up quite a bit. When she mentioned
that she was looking for another man to work the door with Tom, he said he knew
someone who would be perfect.

The next afternoon a large, soft-spoken man appeared at her
door. “I’m Jack, ma’am. Mr. Judd mentioned you might have a position open,” the
man said quietly. On the strength of Cal’s recommendation, she hired him right
away.

And it was a good thing she had. She introduced Jack to Tom
and asked Tom to show him the ropes, but just two nights later, Tom quit
without notice. Refusing to meet her eyes and mumbling that he’d found
something better, he was gone.

Esther was surprised and disappointed. Tom had seemed happy
with his job and she’d never had any problems with him. Cal, however, came to
her aid again and sent around another man to replace Tom. Donovan started the
next evening.

Against her better judgment, she began daydreaming of a
future with Cal.
He is so kind, so helpful,
she mused.
He treats me
with such respect! We could be happy together . . .

~~**~~

Attendance at Calvary Temple is now a regular part of our
week. What wonderful messages Pastor Carmichael brings us! I am fed, comforted,
encouraged, and spurred to serve you more, dear Lord.

I have overheard Breona, Mei-Xing, and Marit talking
enthusiastically about Pastor’s messages, so I know they are learning, too. The
other girls will sometimes join in or ask questions. I am hopeful that soon
they will hear the Savior calling them and will answer.

—

Martha Palmer arrived unexpectedly one afternoon. Hearing
the knock at the front door, Mr. Wheatley peered through door’s peephole but
saw only the departing back of a uniformed chauffeur. Puzzled, he cracked the
door, looked around, and finally looked down to spy the slight figure of Mrs.
Palmer stooped over her cane.

“Well, are you going to ask me in?” she demanded.

Mr. Wheatley backed away from the door with alacrity and
waited for the bent little lady to thump her way into the entry. Breona,
catching a glimpse of their surprise guest, alerted Rose and then ran to the
kitchen to prepare a tea tray. She bade the rest of the girls to continue with
their chores.

“Mrs. Palmer! What a delightful surprise.” Rose swept into
the entryway and allowed the woman to lean on her arm until they reached a
comfortable chair in the parlor.

“No, no; not yet,” Mrs. Palmer said testily. “I came to see
what you have done to the place. I can sit after.”

“Really, we have scarcely begun,” Rose remonstrated gently.
“It is livable, but only just.”

From her bent over position Mrs. Palmer craned her neck
sideways and peered about the parlor with interest. “I’d like to see the great
room, kitchen, and dining room, if you don’t mind,” she stated.

Rose walked her out of the parlor, across the entry, into
the spacious great room, and then through the dining room and into the kitchen.
Marit, who curtsied and reddened, was baking bread. Breona and Mei-Xing were
preparing the tea tray.

Will, bouncing up and down in his high chair, went still and
stared with large eyes at the frail little stranger with white hair. He sucked
in his lower lip and looked to his mama.

“Very nice, very nice,” the old woman muttered and fumbled
for Rose’s arm. “I’ll sit now and take a cup of tea.”

Rose helped Mrs. Palmer into a comfortable chair where she
sat, bent over, hands clasped upon the silver head of her cane, but tipping her
head and looking about, missing nothing. Almost immediately Mei-Xing entered
the parlor with a laden tray. She set the tray on the low table near Mrs.
Palmer’s chair, seated herself in front of it, and began to gracefully serve the
tea.

“How do you care for your tea, Mrs. Palmer?” she inquired.

“Eh? Oh. One lump, just a scant spoonful of cream. Not milk,
mind you.”

“Of course.” In short order, she placed a tiny side table
within Mrs. Palmer’s reach and set her cup of tea on it.

Mrs. Palmer ignored the tea and studied Mei-Xing closely.
Mei-Xing, flushing slightly under Mrs. Palmer’s scrutiny, finished serving
Rose’s tea and gently inclined her head toward both of them. “Will you take
cake?”

“You are a tiny thing, ain’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mei-Xing responded, unperturbed, slicing the
lemon cake on the tray.

“None for me. What is your name, girl?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mei-Xing Li, ma’am.” Mei-Xing poured herself a
cup of tea and cradled it on her knee.

Martha Palmer’s gnarled fingers reached for her cup. The cup
quivered in her tentative grip as she sipped from it. “Are you one of the girls
who came down the mountain?”

Rose winced at her bluntness, but Mei-Xing returned Mrs.
Palmer’s question calmly.

“Yes, ma’am. However, I was fortunate to escape to Miss
Thoresen’s lodge several months before . . . before the marshals
freed the other girls.”

“You did, did you? And how’d you do that?”

Mei-Xing smiled a small smile. “I tied together all the
clothes I could find to make a rope and climbed out a third-floor window.
Unfortunately, the rope only went to the bottom of the second floor, so I had
to drop the rest of the way.”

Mrs. Palmer’s mouth fell open and her cup rattled as she set
it on the saucer. “Land sakes! You don’t say. Were you hurt?”

Rose cleared her throat in distress. She vividly recalled
how damaged and broken Mei-Xing had been, and how terrified she had been to
sleep for fear she would be discovered and dragged back.

Mei-Xing, however, answered simply and calmly again. “I
landed in the shrubbery and suffered a few scratches. I did also sprain my
ankle when I dropped, but it was preferable to what would have become of me if
I had not attempted to escape again.”

“Again? Escape again? Had you tried before?” The woman
craned her neck to stare at Mei-Xing.

“Yes, ma’am. The night before, but . . . they
caught me.”

Mrs. Palmer’s voice dropped to a soft whisper. “They caught
you! They . . . what did they do when they caught you, my dear?”

Despite her calm, Mei-Xing had begun to tremble, and her
voice shook a little. “Three men took me to a room at the top of the house
and . . . had their way with me for several hours.”

“They . . . they . . .” Mrs.
Palmer’s sharpness abandoned her.

“Mei-Xing, perhaps a little slice of that cake?” Rose asked,
anxious to turn the conversation.

Mei-Xing, though shaking, maintained her composure. “Yes,
Mrs. Palmer, they violated and beat me.”

Martha Palmer was silent and unmoving for several moments.
Finally, she beckoned to Mei-Xing.

“Would ye come here, Miss Li, where I may see your face
better? Just kneel down here next to me on the carpet where I can look at you.”

For a moment Mei-Xing did not move and then, sighing softly,
she set her cup on the tea tray and knelt before Mrs. Palmer’s chair. The woman
reached out a gnarled hand and, with great tenderness, cupped Mei-Xing’s chin
and, in her peculiar manner, cocked her head to the side so she could look
Mei-Xing in the eye.

For a long moment she stared at Mei-Xing before she spoke.
“I am sorry, child, that these things happened to you. So very sorry. I see,
however, that you have great strength within you. Tell me, is that strength
from the Lord?”

Mei-Xing seemed transfixed by the old woman’s scrutiny and
by the unexpected kindness that seeped like healing oil from her touch and her
words. “Yes, ma’am. I have come to love the Lord Jesus and to know he loves me.
I do not believe I could face life without the strength his love gives me each
day.”

Martha Palmer patted Mei-Xing’s cheek gently and nodded. “I
am so glad to hear this. I, too, have faced great loss in my life. I know this
is hard, my dear. Be strong and grow in your faith. I will remember to pray for
you diligently.”

Clearing her throat and placing her hands once again on the
top of her cane, Mrs. Palmer signaled the end of the unexpectedly tender
moment. “Tell me a bit more about yourself, Miss Li. Do ye have an education?”

Mei-Xing returned to her chair and composed herself. “Yes,
Mrs. Palmer. I was very well educated.”

“Oh? Read and write, do you?”

“In English, French, German, and Mandarin, ma’am.”

“Eh? You don’t say.” Mrs. Palmer stared at her hands a
moment. “You don’t say. Accomplishments? Music? Art?”

Mei-Xing’s smile was wan. “I sketch a little. I also play
piano and violin. Or I did.”

Rose’s eyebrows went up. She’d had no idea. And what was the
purpose of Mrs. Palmer’s many questions?

“Indeed! How did you come by such accomplishments, if I may
ask?”

Here Mei-Xing’s manner shifted subtly although her response
retained its gracious tone. “Mrs. Palmer, do you mean to ask how a whore
received such a fine education?”

Mrs. Palmer stared at her. “Don’t be cheeky, miss. Besides, I was under the impression that you were
not
a whore, Miss Li.”

Rose choked on her tea and fumbled with her napkin, while
Mei-Xing reddened, whether in embarrassment or anger, Rose could not know
which.

“Well, speak up, child. Are you a whore or are you not?”

“Really! Mrs. Palmer!” Rose uttered sharply, rising from her
seat.

“Hush, Mrs. Thoresen. Let the girl answer for herself.”

Mei-Xing straightened in her chair and faced Mrs. Palmer.
For several moments she struggled within herself, staring at the old woman and
breathing hard.

“No, Mrs. Palmer, I am not a whore,” she finally answered.

“I’m sorry, my dear. My old ears are somewhat hard of
hearing. Would you mind speaking up?”

Rose, now perplexed, shot looks back and forth between the
two women. She knew for a fact that Martha Palmer’s hearing was untouched by
age.

Suddenly Mei-Xing smiled. It was a tiny smile, but she
nodded at the same time. Quite clearly and firmly she repeated to herself, “No,
Mrs. Palmer, I am not a whore. I am a child of the living God. I am a new
creation in him.”

Mrs. Palmer nodded in satisfaction over her cane and then
gave it one good thump on the carpeted floor. “Very good. Yes,
well done
.”

She struggled to stand and complained to Rose, “Mrs.
Thoresen, this chair is entirely too deep!” She then gestured imperiously to
Mei-Xing. “Miss Li, give this interfering old woman your arm, if you please.”

The old lady grasped Mei-Xing’s arm and managed to extricate
herself from the chair. Side-by-side, the two women stood nearly eye-to-eye,
Mrs. Palmer from her bent over position, Mei-Xing from her tiny height.

“You have a lovely quality about you, my dear. Your parents
must have cared for you very much to have given you such an upbringing,” Mrs.
Palmer said softly.

If she were looking for something to finally prick
Mei-Xing’s heart, Mrs. Palmer had found it. The girl, just turned 16 years old,
suddenly had tears in her eyes.

“There, there,” Mrs. Palmer whispered, again in that tender
tone. “Forgive this old woman.”

She turned toward Rose to include her in what she was about
to say. “I am in need of a personal companion and social secretary. As much as
I fight it, I am unable to manage many things by myself these days. And I do
detest getting behind.

“The woman I engage must be gracious, educated, and socially
adept. I carry considerable influence in this town; nevertheless, some of my
acquaintances have the tact of a cactus and the discretion of a jay bird.”

She nodded at Mei-Xing. “I needed to know how you would
conduct yourself should someone as direct as I question you regarding your
background. Miss Li, we can talk more on this later, but today I would like to
ask if you would be interested in such a position?”

Mei-Xing shot a glance at Rose, dumbfounded. “I, that is,
I . . .”

Rose stepped in. “Thank you for such an honor, Mrs. Palmer.
Perhaps we can prayerfully consider your offer before Mei-Xing gives you her
answer?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. I will pay $10 a week. You may live
with me during the week and return here on your night off or my chauffeur,
Benton, can bring you daily to my home and back. It will be your choice. The
hours will, occasionally, be long, but I do not go out of an evening as much as
before. Generally I am abed by eight o’clock in the evening.

“Oh, and I will require that you install a telephone in this
house. I will not send Benton across town simply to deliver a message when a
telephone call will suffice.”

Mei-Xing’s eyes grew large. The salary was generous—not
overly so, but still . . . much more than she would ever earn
clerking or sewing in a shop. And the work would be engaging and
varied . . .

“By the by, I understand that some of your neighbors paid a
visit,” Mrs. Palmer remarked with a raised eyebrow.

Rose nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Palmer.”

“I think you can rest easy regarding Mr. Haney and the
Brewsters. Cora DeWitt, however, may provide you with additional opportunities
to grow in grace.” She smiled shrewdly at Rose.

—

 “She did not!” Joy expostulated. “She asked Mei-Xing if she
were a whore?”

“Shhh, Joy. The whole house will hear you,” Rose cautioned
her, looking around. News spread faster in Palmer House than ants on sugar!

“I just cannot envision Mrs. Palmer using such a word,” Joy
returned in a quieter voice.

“It was truly amazing, though. Something happened inside
Mei-Xing at that moment. She no longer sees herself in the same way and
confidently said so! I tell you, you should have heard her: ‘No, Mrs. Palmer, I
am not a whore. I am a child of the living God.’ It was beautiful, Joy. It was
powerful.”

Somehow Mei-Xing’s encounter with Mrs. Palmer percolated
through the house, with many opinions as to “what
I
would have told that
old lady” passing among the girls. Tabitha, predictably, had choice and
colorful words on the matter.

Once the novelty wore away, however, the girls seemed to
ponder Mei-Xing’s response more deeply. And Rose wondered what was going on in
their young minds and hearts.

~~**~~