“An informal relationship,” Tillman said, “does not confer legal rights to money. All rights belong to the person of record.”
I met him with an uneven voice: “Edward wrote a letter. It is in his handwriting and states that it is his dying wish that money be provided for his daughter, Flora Ivory, and he asked that the mother of his child be the signatory. I am the mother of this child. You cannot use legal hocus pocus to change that.” I was back on confident ground.
“We examined the letter at the offices of Massey and Massey. Mr. Douglas provided it when this became a case of fraud, which had unknowingly involved him. The letter does not give any name, except Flora’s.”
“You’ve lived quite lavishly on Edward and Minerva’s money,” Mrs. Lamp said. “A grand house.” She swept her hand across in an arc. “And with servants and an expensive car that belonged to Edward Ivory, the property of his widow, Minerva Ivory—the true one.”
”This house belongs to my father, Lu Shing.”
“We’ve never heard of any Lu Shing.”
“You know him as Shing Lu. You had his name backward.”
Tillman gave a slight nod to Mrs. Lamp and Minerva. “It’s the Chinese custom with names that the family name comes first.” They were chagrined to learn I was right.
At last, I had gained some ground. “He gave me use of the house for as long as I desire,” I continued. “And I will also inherit the house. I have it in writing.” The letter, where was it? Edward said he put Lu Shing’s two letters where no one would find it. Where?
“Chinese daughters of concubines are not in the line of succession of property in China,” Tillman said. “Inheritance by males is preemptor.”
“We have both a legal right and moral obligation,” Mrs. Lamp said. “Flora deserves to be raised to have dignity, respect, legitimacy, and an education—and not one provided by a prostitute. If you love her, how can you selfishly let her remain with you?”
Tillman cut her off. “We must finish with other matters first.” He had shown part of his hand—that there were other matters. He was following a sequence of legal traps.
“If a letter executed by Mr. Lu Shing exists, produce it. Does he acknowledge you are his daughter, legal or illegitimate? We found no record of your birth with either the American Consulate or various Chinese offices of records. It is difficult for you to make legal claims when you have no proof that you exist.” Mrs. Lamp laughed.
I was furious. I did have a birth certificate, the one my mother said had been stolen from her desk. She had recorded it under the name of someone she had married when I was born, a name that sounded like “Tanner.” It had been hard to make out when I listened from Boulevard. And Lu Shing’s letter—I struggled to remember what the letter had said exactly. My proof lay in shreds of memory.
“Another point the court will consider: It was Edward Ivory who had a strong prior relationship with Mr. Lu Shing. He has known the Ivory family for over twenty years. He lived with them for a number of years as their protégé. They exchanged letters of friendship. Mr. Lu Shing offered Mr. Ivory’s son, Edward, a place to live in Shanghai on that basis. There are letters attesting to that as well.”
“You can ask Mr. Lu Shing directly,” I said. “Speak to him. I have the telephone number of his company office.” I was counting on Lu Shing’s remorse to save the day.
“We did contact Mr. Lu’s company offices,” Tillman said. “Mr. Lu Shing no longer owns the company. It was taken over by a Japanese enterprise two months ago. Mr. Lu Shing was bankrupt and left the country. His last communication to his former manager was from the United States.”
“Tell her that we know what she did for a living,” Mrs. Lamp said.
“We learned that you were engaged in the profession of courtesan. That is not illegal in the International Settlement, as you know. We have no legal charges. However, we would call into question your moral suitability, as well as the environment Flora would be forced to live in, if you were to make an argument to keep her.”
Magic Gourd was shouting that I should call the police and kick the hooligans out on their foreign asses.
“Be reasonable, Miss Minturn,” Tillman said. He even knew my name. “The Ivory family has made a generous offer. They will drop all charges and require no repayment of money you took from the bank account if you relinquish Flora today. You will soon have no home or money. You have no legal argument to fight these charges. You would lose and go to prison for theft. The Ivory family would then be given Flora. If you tried to run away with her, you would be charged with the kidnapping of a child who legally belongs to the Ivory family. Police officers are already outside the gate. However, if you relinquish her today, you will be doing the best by her. She will have a life of privilege in the United States. She will have legitimacy, a chance at a proper life with an upstanding family.”
Magic Gourd babbled on about kicking the intruders out. She did not know yet the devastation that awaited Little Flora and me. “I might be reconciled in my heart that what you say is the best. But I ask myself, how can I let my child go to the very people Edward despised? He came here, to China, to escape you and your soullessness. You, Minerva, tricked Edward into marrying you by claiming you were pregnant—all this to gain the money and prestige of the Ivory family. Your mother told you to feign a miscarriage. You both plotted and manipulated and lied and you led Edward into doing what was right for you and the coming child. He wanted to be honorable and good, and when you told him you had made up the whole thing, you made a mockery of his goodness. You repulsed him in all ways. Yet you schemed to have him return to you. He never would have touched you.”
Mr. Tillman glanced at the two women. Minerva was shocked. Mrs. Lamp said in the hurried tone of someone trying to stamp out the truth: “These are lies and we won’t hear any more of it. Minerva, don’t listen. Take Flora so we can leave.” Minerva was frozen, and her lower lip was trembling.
“You know that what I’m saying is true. He left you and his mother and father because he felt gutted by your selfishness, your manipulations. You want to steal Flora away from me, and it proves that you are all that he hated. You have your documents and certificates with your names and hateful facts. But those are words and the rest is false. Edward would never have wanted his daughter to live with the very people whom he loathed and left. He and I made this child out of love for each other. You want to cover her with your web, and spin your lies around her until you suffocate her soul. I won’t give her to you. You can arrest me and throw me in prison. But I will never willingly give her to you.”
I could not bear to look at them, knowing that they would have Little Flora soon. I hugged Flora closer to me, feeling the full weight of her. She buried her face into my shoulder. And then I ran. Magic Gourd took off with me. I heard Mrs. Lamp shout. Tillman said, “Let them. The policemen will get her.”
Little Flora whimpered, “I’m scared.” I said in a cracked voice, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.” I ran toward the back gate and heard shouts to send the men to that side. I knew that escape was hopeless. Where would I go? Where could I hide? But I would fight for her as long as I could.
And then I reached the gate and ran through. Two Sikh policemen grabbed my shoulders and Little Flora shrieked as her hands slipped away from my neck, as her body rose up and out of my arms. Her eyes were fastened on mine.
The policeman who took her walked away briskly and another man held me. I could no longer see her face. But I heard her sob: “No! Let me go! Mama! Mama!” I called back: “Little Flora! Little Flora!”—crying out her name long after she was gone.
I don’t know how long I stood there before I allowed Magic Gourd to lead me away. I was confused and I could only think that I should wait. She took me back to the house and I went to Little Flora’s room. I had the crazy hope that Little Ram would rescue her and put her safely in my arms. The room was silent and airless without her. Magic Gourd came in, breathing hard. Little Ram said h
e saw Mrs. Lamp and Minerva get into a black car and drive up Nanking Road. A police officer was guarding Edward’s car. So they ran after the black car until they could no longer see it. Magic Gourd bit her lips and cried as she walked around Little Flora’s room. She found a silver bracelet she had given Little Flora when she was born. It was supposed to lock her to the earth. “I should have made her wear it.”
Only a short while ago, Little Flora had lain with her head in my lap and I had been stroking her hair. Mrs. Lamp and Minerva had never looked at Little Flora with motherly eyes. To them, Little Flora was nothing more than a legal document. I had been so naive to not have realized the danger. She was Edward’s daughter, his only child. And Edward had been the Ivorys’ only child, their beloved son who could do no wrong. Little Flora was now the legitimate daughter of Edward and Minerva, and the heiress of the Ivory family estate, which Minerva would help her spend. On the Ivory family tree, Little Flora would claim her place and so would the false mother.
I went to Edward’s room and closed the door. I railed against the American laws, the deaf god, blind fate, and the cruelty of humans. I asked Edward to tell me those monsters would not damage Little Flora’s heart. I walked around the room beseeching him, as if he were God and knew all things and could make promises and decrees. Don’t let Little Flora lose her curiosity. Don’t let Minerva dull her mind. Strike down dead Mrs. Lamp. Bring Little Flora back to me now. Let me find her. Tell me how.
I ran my hand over the soft bristles of a shaving brush that had once swirled around Edward’s jaw each day. I used to watch him. How could he be gone, while his shaving brush remained? I picked up Edward’s gold pocket watch on its heavy chain. I found cuff links that he had tucked into a pocket of a waistcoat. He had been fastidious and negligent at the same time.
I wondered which of my habits Little Flora would have had, if she had remained with me. Through what kaleidoscope of wonder would she have viewed the world? Had she inherited Edward’s conscience, his humility and humor, his expressions of deeper, wider love? I had a gnawing need to know who she would be ten years from now. Let her be curious, let her be strong-willed. If I could give her anything she could keep, let it be the knowledge that she is loved, so that she would have the ability to love as well.
I placed her photograph next to Edward’s and stared at her face. And then I saw in her photograph that she was wearing the heart-shaped locket Edward and I had bought soon after she was born. Inside were tiny photographs of Edward and me. I had had the locket sealed so that when Little Flora wore it, our three hearts would always be together, never broken. Little Flora loved that locket and would scream if anyone tried to take it off. I hoped she would scream and lash out at her false mother.
I kissed Edward’s face in the photograph and thanked him for his love and for Little Flora. I kissed Little Flora’s face in the photograph and thanked her for showing me how deeply and freely I could love. I recited to her the words of Whitman that Edward quoted, the pledge that had enabled him to leave his family and find himself: “Resist much, obey little.”
WE RECEIVED A letter of eviction a few days later, no doubt hastened by the Ivory family’s thorough plan to dig me up like a weed and be rid of me. A representative from the Ivory Shipping Company confiscated the car. Someone from the Japanese company made a list of all the belongings of the house. When they tried to claim the paintings by Lu Shing that Magic Gourd wanted to keep, she pointed to the dedication on the back of each that showed it had been given to my mother.
I found positions for the amah, Little Ram, and Bright through the help of a kind woman at the American Club, who had recommended them as servants to recent arrivals from San Francisco. Magic Gourd and I brought out everything of value we owned: my jewelry, the dresses, the carvings, whatever we could sell, and we made a list of the order in which we would part with them. I would not let go of Little Flora’s and Edward’s belongings. I would never have the heart to sell them, but I could not leave them behind for someone else to sell or throw away. “When the time comes,” Magic Gourd said, “I will find a use for them and you will never know.”
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.