The Valley of Amazement (42 page)

The one possession of Edward’s I most wanted was his leather diary, his words and thoughts, his view of the world and himself. I had been searching for it ever since he died. I had to find it now. Magic Gourd and I went through his dressers, looked under the bed, the one we shared and the one he died in. We looked behind the furniture and even moved the heavy wardrobe. We looked at every book in the library and ran our hands behind the books. The brown leather covers made it nearly indistinguishable from a thousand other books. It sickened me that we might not find it. I had already set aside his fountain pens, pencils, blotter, the beautiful green leather volume of
Leaves of Grass
he had given me as an apology soon after we met, and on top of that the beaten copy he had purchased for himself to replace it. I picked it up. He had held this book. I opened it and I cried to see what was inside. The pages had been cut out to make a secret vault for his journal. Here he was before me: his words, his thoughts and emotions. I opened it, turning the pages, no longer sad but joyful in remembering the moments he had read the pages to me. Here was the story of his heroics that ended with his face in the mud. He had been so pleased when I laughed. I saw another entry, toward the back. I did not recognize it, and I was frightened that there was a reason he had withheld it from me, that it might contain a confession that he felt differently about me.

Violet was driving slowly. This was her first time behind the wheel and she kept her eyes fastened on the road while I enjoyed the scenery. We glided past villages and I saw the somber faces of farmers who had never seen anything go this fast. We exuded vitality and joy. But then I noticed the lime-whitened walls of the houses, where the colors of life had been blanched by death. I observed a cortege of mourners in white, trudging up a hill. Illness was spreading like a dark pestilence in the field. I urged Violet to drive faster to feel the wind of life that comes with speed. I wanted to pass sorrow on a day when I was with the one I loved.

He had loved me then. He had been so careful to keep his feelings from me. I turned the pages and saw only the blur of my tears. At the back, I found two letters stuck between pages. They were Lu Shing’s. Edward had promised to put them where no one would find them until I told him I was ready to read them. I opened one. It was addressed simply to “Violet.” This was the one that had offered me the house. He had also said that it required amending his will and that, in turn, this required that I allow him to acknowledge that he was my father. He asked my permission to do so. I had never responded. The second letter was the one I had refused to read:

My dear Violet,

I have wanted to say these words for many years. I am ashamed it has taken this long for them to reach you. I give you the answers as a confession, not as an explanation, with no excuses for my dereliction of your happiness and safety.

From the day you were born, I loved you, but inadequately. I loved your mother, but inadequately. Because of my lack of character and courage, I did not stand up to my family. I yielded to their demands to carry out my duties as the eldest son. When your mother gave birth to our son, my family took him from her. He was the firstborn son of the next generation. She did not know where to find him and I could not tell her because of threats by my family that I would never see him if I did.

When my father died in 1912,I was at last able to tell your mother that her son was in San Francisco. She knew nothing of the evil that awaited you. Through trickery, she boarded the boat. Through trickery later, she believed you were dead.

I now confess to you the great evil I did to you. Five years ago, I was at the party hosted by my friend Loyalty Fang when you performed your first story. That was when I learned you were alive. I was horrified that my actions had led you to this life. But then I saw how enamored you were of Loyalty, and I heard several men remark they had never seen Loyalty so infatuated and that it would not be surprising if Loyalty became your patron or even your husband. How could I pull you away from this chance? This was the inner world you knew, and if I took you to the outer world and said you were my daughter, you would have been shunned. I truly believed you would find happiness with Loyalty.

I used this as my shameful reason to avoid my responsibility to you once again. I never told anyone that I was your father before I left Shanghai.

A number of years passed before I returned. As you know, the Ivory family asked that I take care of their son, Edward, who knew no one and could not speak Chinese. I introduced him to Loyalty, who knew a bit of English. Loyalty introduced you to Edward. You know the rest. I am grateful beyond words that you have found the happiness you have always deserved. However, I also know that your happiness does not absolve me of my moral shortcomings.

I have not seen or spoken to your mother since our meeting in Shanghai. She did not meet me in San Francisco as planned. After I had written her numerous letters, she finally sent back just one. She said she had no desire to see either me or her son. She said she had only one child and she grieved for her every day. That was you. If you would like me to contact her, I will do my best. In the meantime, I will say nothing, in case you do not wish to open doors you may have already permanently closed. I hope this letter has provided you with the answers you needed. I fear that it may have also stirred up more turmoil.

Please let me know your wishes. I am ready to serve as your father and your debtor.

Yours,

Lu Shing

His letter was a pallid summary of his own spiritual agony. Beyond his claims that he did not deserve forgiveness, he left off with the happy ending. How would he serve as my debtor without any means to reach him? The one surprise was his mention that Mother had not met her son. To think she left me for naught. Lu Shing had provided the answers to the questions that had tormented me over the years. But beyond those inadequate facts, I knew now the nature of two people whom I had reviled for so many years. They were simply weak, selfish, and careless of others. I wished to push them out of my mind. My grief left no room for them. And now I had to determine quickly what to do next. For the first time since I was fourteen, I could choose. I would look at my abilities and match them to opportunities. I was more intelligent than most. I had persistence.

But, as I soon learned, those qualities could not make the world turn in a different direction. I sought a job as an English teacher at a school for Chinese translators. The students were men and they could not hire a woman. I offered myself as a governess. Word had gone around the American Club that I had been a courtesan who impersonated a widow. They were horrified at the thought that a prostitute would teach their children. I inquired about teaching positions at schools run by Canadians and Australians, thinking they might not have heard reports of my past. If they had, they masked it by saying they could not hire someone who had no experience.

My only opportunity was to return to the courtesan world. But now I felt as I had when I was fourteen. I would defile myself by offering myself to men. I felt I would be betraying Edward. Even if I returned, I might be able to survive for only a few more years. And then what? It sickened me to realize that I truly had no choices. I had to accept defeat.

Magic Gourd thought we should start a small courtesan house. We would call it a private teahouse, which would set us apart from the opium flower houses. It suggested a place that was more refined, which might require men with manners and at least some amount of courting—perhaps not as much as in a first-class house. In any case, we had heard that even in first-class houses, the courting time required had been much reduced. We could take four rooms, one for her as madam, one for me as entertainer and courtesan. The two other rooms would be for two courtesans we would recruit. I listened dully to her plan and told her it was too early to think about this. She told me to rest. And she went to look for a suitable place to rent. She wrote down expenses that needed to be paid to the Green Gang for protection, and taxes that would be assessed in the International Settlement. We tallied up the cost of furnishing a refined teahouse. We obtained prices from Mr. Gao for the value of our jewelry. And we realized in the end we could afford one teacup.

Magic Gourd came up with another idea: “Loyalty Fang made a promise to you—if you ever needed help when you were in trouble, you could ask him.”

“That was seven years ago,” I said. “He probably doesn’t remember what he said and to which girl.”

“He gave you a big ring as a pledge that his promise was true.”

“He gave many flowers a ring for something or other that was true for that moment. You told me yourself: As time passes, the ring is no longer a promise but a souvenir.”

“Do you remember when I asked if we should keep the ring or sell it with the other unwanted jewelry? I saw the look in your eye. You hesitated a little too long before you told me to sell it. So I didn’t.”

“Then you should sell it now.”

“It’s pride that keeps you from asking him. You don’t have to ask for money. Ask him to help us get a position in a first-class house. Two feet in the door, yours and mine, that’s all. It would take him two minutes, a phone call, a little flattery to the madam.”

I had never thanked Loyalty for introducing me to Edward. There was nothing to thank in the beginning. He was the one who had apologized to me for Edward’s crude behavior. It had occurred to me later that I should have been friendly to Loyalty and his wife, that I should have perhaps invited them to dinner. But then I held off because he would remind me of my past. I told Edward, and he had understood. Now, to Loyalty again, I would be reminded not only of my past but also of the times I was devastated by him. He had known me intimately—sexually and emotionally. He knew my weaknesses both ways and how to make me succumb. I had never loved him deeply, as I had Edward. But if I saw him, he might make one small expression that once made me believe he loved me, or had made me livid, or might remind me of certain erotic nights. He knew me too well. Magic Gourd was right. I was too proud. I would be stupid not to see him, simply because I did not want to be
reminded of my past with him. The worst he could do was to fail to remember his promise. I would be humiliated, and so be it. I could not afford pride.

When I finally picked up the telephone to call Loyalty, I apologized quickly that the years had gone by without thanking him. I was honest and said I had wanted to leave my former life behind. I told him briefly about Edward’s death.

“When I heard, I felt great sadness for you. Truly, I did. I imagined you in your grief.” I then told him about Little Flora’s abduction. He groaned. “I had not heard, and I have no adequate words to tell you how sorry I am. I can only say that if that had happened to my son, I would find those who did it and tear off their limbs. I’m glad you still have Magic Gourd to keep you company. She has been a good friend to you for so many years.”

“Like a mother,” I said.

“By the way, do you still have that cat who tried to eat my arm?”

“You asked me that seven years ago. Carlotta died.” A small knot of old sorrow rose in my throat.

“Has it really been that long?”

“So much time has gone by you may have forgotten something you said seven years ago. If you did, I will not remind you—”

He broke in. “I’ve already guessed the reason you are reaching out to me,” he said.

I thought he meant this as criticism.

“I know you had to put away pride and old wounds to call me.”

“You are not obligated to help. It was many years ago.”

“Ah, Violet, you are still resisting kindness. I would like to help, if I can. Speak freely.”

“I need to return to my old job. I don’t know if the House of Vermillion would take me back. I am almost twenty-five years old, and you can’t make me young again, no matter how much praise you give on my behalf. Grief and worry have worsened what age has not. But with your word, they would at least consider me. I am realistic. I would appreciate whatever you can do, without your having to lie, at least not too much.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, and I was sure he was composing a tactful answer to explain why he was unable to help.

“Let me think more about what I can do. Can you come to my office tomorrow?”

I guessed that he wanted to see how aged I had become to know which house might take me. He sent his chauffeur the next day to bring me to his office. I was surprised at how simple and messy the room was: a desk, two hard chairs, a small sofa, armchair, and low tables.

He kissed my hand quickly. “Violet, I am always happy to see you.” He gave me his famous long gaze. “You look as lovely as ever.”

“Thank you. You flatter as well as ever.” I gave him a pleasant smile, friendly but not flirtatious. I saw he was already assessing my appearance more critically.

He sat back, crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette. It was a superior businesslike pose. “I have given much thought as to what I can do. And here is what I propose. I will go to Vermillion—she now owns the house. I’ll mention that you’ve decided to return and will choose a house soon. I will then say that I am eager to be one of your suitors, and since the House of Vermillion is my favorite, I hope that she will do what she can to convince you to rejoin them.”

“This is very generous.” I was trying to decipher what he really wanted.

“In any business negotiation, it is better to make the other party think they are benefiting more than you. Don’t denigrate yourself, Violet. You are lovely and able to understand men and you are kind to their failings. I know you hesitate, given your feelings for Edward. My actual proposal is that you give me English lessons in your room. I am serious. I should have improved my English years ago. My business requires it. I am relying on translators and don’t know if they are saying what I intend. I propose that I visit you two or three times a week in your room. I need you to be a strict teacher and make me practice. No excuses. I’ll pay for the lessons, and it will be equal to what a suitor might give you. If I fail to practice hard enough, you can fine me. Naturally, since I am not an actual suitor, I will continue to court other women—at other houses, of course. That leaves you free to receive suitors when you are accustomed to life in the house again. We must have a clear understanding that this is the arrangement. I have no hidden meaning. I want only to help you as an old friend. And I want to learn enough English that I don’t have to use a dictionary that tells me a courtesan house is where you find whores for ten dollars.”