Separate Roads (8 page)

Victoria and Li continued to work at bringing Jia’s fever down. Victoria admired the petite Chinese woman. Her patience seemed endless and her love for Jia quite evident. She rocked the baby and hummed songs unfamiliar to Victoria, but all the while she endured this hardship as Victoria had seen her endure others—with a quiet, gentle regard that appeared to need no words.

Victoria stoked the fire in the hearth, knowing she was burning precious fuel that she could hardly afford to spare. Still, she couldn’t let the room grow chilly. She had closed down all the windows and built fires in both the fireplace and the stove, and while the room had taken on a warm, stuffy feeling, Victoria worried incessantly that it would not be enough to keep the baby from further harm.

As the days passed and Jia continued to fight his illness, Victoria fretted over one thing and another, but nothing worried her quite so much as the fever’s continued hold. It was this concern that drove her to seek out medical advice, but it was clearly God who caused the good doctor to cross Victoria’s path. She had barely walked a block from her home when she found Dr. Benson preparing to mount his carriage. Apparently he’d just come from visiting a patient, because he still held his black bag in his hand.

“Dr. Benson,” she called, hoping he would hear her and pause long enough for her to question him.

“Mrs. O’Connor, isn’t it?” the small man asked. He lowered his spectacles a bit in order to assess her more clearly.

“Yes,” she said enthusiastically. She quickened her step. “I apologize if I’m delaying you, but I have something I need to ask you.”

“I see,” the man replied, putting his black bag into the carriage. “And what would that be?”

“There’s a small Celestial baby in my care. Actually, both he and his mother are staying with me temporarily. He has the measles and a high fever. I’m hard pressed to know what to do. We’ve been trying to bring the fever down by swabbing him with soda water, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. Also he refuses to take any milk.”

“No, milk would just curdle in his stomach. I suggest a bit of ginseng tea. The mother will know how to make it. Their constitution is different from ours, don’t you know? He’ll respond better if given something his own kind is familiar with. Maybe have the mother boil in a little wild lettuce to ease the child’s pain. Keep the room dark; the light can cause blindness in measles victims. Especially in the weaker Chinese.”

Victoria bristled at his suggestion that the Chinese were somehow inferior to their race. Still, she recalled that her mother’s freed slave Miriam had many remedies that her own people had used for generations. Remedies that the doctors scoffed at and chided as being “black medicine.” Were they really so different in their body’s construction that they required two different kinds of medicine? Had she caused baby Jia more harm than good?

But as if receiving affirmation that her choices had been wise, she found Jia feeling a little better when she returned to the apartment. He actually smiled at her for just a moment before snuggling back to sleep in his mother’s arms.

“He not so hot now. I think fever not so high,” Li told Victoria.

Victoria reached out to touch the child and smiled. Jia’s skin felt cooler to the touch. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

“You talk to doctor?” Li asked, knowing that this had been Victoria’s plan.

“Yes. He said not to give the baby milk. But instead to make tea. Ginseng tea, with a little wild lettuce boiled in.”

Li nodded. “I can make this.” She got up and put the now sleeping infant in the padded dresser drawer Victoria had arranged for him. “I go home and make tea.”

“You can make it here, but you’ll have to bring the ingredients,” Victoria said apologetically. “I’m afraid I have neither ginseng nor wild lettuce.”

Li nodded and bowed slightly. “I have both.” She pulled on her straw hat and headed to the door without any further explanation.

Victoria smiled and watched the woman hurry away, her linen sahm fluttering gracefully. Unlike many Chinese women, Li’s feet had never been bound, thus she had no difficulty running or walking great distances. Her parents had been poor farmers in China—at least this was what Victoria understood from Li. They needed Li’s help in the fields, and bound feet were of no use to them. However, Li had explained, without bound feet she could never hope to be given in marriage to a wealthy man of influence.

Li had known a very hard life in China. Her family barely kept food in the mouths of their five children. Victoria frowned as she remembered Li speaking of being sold to a Chinese merchant in order to save the family after a particularly bad harvest. He was supposed to take her to work for his family; instead, he sold her again to a grizzled old sea captain who was headed to America with a cargo of Chinese and a variety of antiquities. The life Victoria had known in California had been hard, but it was nothing compared to the horror stories told to her by Li. She was still lost in such thoughts when Li returned with the needed ginseng root and dried lettuce.

“Husband back from railroad,” Li told her. “He say they will let him come to do laundry. We will go soon.”

Victoria had known that Xiang was absent from Sacramento. Men from the board of directors had sent him up the line to visit with construction supervisors to inquire about the need or interest in setting up his business along the railroad. Li had proudly told Victoria of Xiang’s desires to make a business for their family by taking in laundry and mending. Now it appeared Xiang had received the approval he needed in order to feel confident of taking his family from their meager comforts in Sacramento.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Victoria replied. “Or better yet, if it would take me closer to Kiernan, I wish I were going along.”

“You come with us. I think husband not mind. I will ask.”

Victoria smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think that would work. At least not right now. Kiernan would have to be consulted.”

“Con-so-ted?” Li questioned.

“Consulted. It means ‘asked.’ I would have to ask Kiernan.”

Li nodded.

“So how do we make this tea?” Victoria asked as Li began grating a piece of ginseng.

“We make like any tea,” Li replied, pushing her dark black braid over her shoulder.

Victoria watched as Li put a kettle of water on to boil. “Did your husband say anything about the progress on the railroad?”

Li shook her head. “He only say he get job washing clothes.” She waited for the water to heat, then added the ingredients. Lovingly, she checked her son and nodded. “I think he better now.”

Victoria agreed. “He’ll be weak for a while, and we have to be careful that he doesn’t get pneumonia. Measles weakens the lungs.” She remembered her mother saying this. “If he appears to have trouble breathing, we’ll make him a mustard plaster.”

Li settled down to some mending she’d been working on, and Victoria picked up her Bible and began to read. The twelfth chapter of Mark caught her attention at the thirtieth verse.

And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these.

Her mother had always taught her to live by these two commandments, assuring her that if these were observed, all previous commandments would also be obeyed. Victoria stole a glance at Li. The other woman’s attention was riveted on her tiny stitching. She gave completely of herself, no matter the task. And it was always evident in her work. Victoria supposed her attitude was one grounded in her cultural upbringing, for she seldom ever saw Li sit idle. Not that there was much time for anyone of poor means to sit idly by, but Li and the other Celestials Victoria had chanced to know were hard workers who eagerly focused on their task and appeared to never lose sight of the goal. They were good people, when you took time to know them. Many folks considered the Chinese rather queer with their mannerisms and dress, their food choices and different-sounding language, but Victoria had known only goodness from Li and Xiang.

Sometimes it was exceedingly difficult for them to communicate. Li had learned English quickly—first from missionaries in San Francisco and then from Anna Judah, who had labored meticulously with the girl to teach her proper English. Victoria had picked up the task in Anna’s absence and, in doing so, had also learned a fair amount of Chinese. But in spite of this, it was still difficult for Victoria to understand the Chinese philosophies of life and religion. On more than one occasion she had questioned Li about her upbringing, wanting only to better understand the Chinese people. Li’s family had followed the teachings of Confucius or K’ung-fu-tzu, as did most Chinese. It wasn’t taken on as a religion, according to Li, but rather as a manner of living one’s life.

“Master K’ung did not talk of God,” Li had explained. “He taught of goodness. He say, ‘Respect the gods, but have little to do with them.’ ”

But Victoria knew that while goodness was something she had been taught since childhood to strive for, Christianity focused on being saved by grace rather than by works. Of course, it didn’t appear to Victoria that Confucius was worried about saving anyone from anything in particular. His teachings were more a litany of conduct—a standard to live by in order to get along with others.

She thought of the verse she’d just read. “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” The Golden Rule said to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Confucius, Li had told her, agreed with this philosophy in total. He was quoted as saying, “What you do not want done to you, do not do to others.” Li said his words were dated to a time well before the birth of Christ. When Victoria had mentioned this to Kiernan, he had commented that God had a way of getting His message out, no matter the barrier of time or language.

“Li,” Victoria said, putting the Bible aside on the table. “Was it hard to give up the training of Confucius in order to become a Christian?”

“Not so hard for me. Hard for others,” Li replied, not even looking up from her sewing.

“Why is that?”

Li continued working. “I close door to my people at home. My family sell me and know they will never see me again. I very angry. I no want to live for their ways. The missionaries tell me Jesus good and loves me. So I forget my life there and live new life here. Xiang feel same way. He sold, too. His parents dead, and his brothers no want to share their gold. They sell my husband, and he very . . . how you say . . . bicker?”

“Bitter,” Victoria corrected. “He’s bitter.”

Li nodded and tried the word again. “He bitter. Say Buddha and Master K’ung no help him, so he no care for their ways. Sometime it hard. I raised to remember ancestors, make sacrifices to honor them. I think about my people still—I wonder how my little sisters are and if they get sold too.”

Victoria couldn’t imagine anything so heartless and horrible. She tried to envision her parents selling her to strangers. The fact that she was adopted served even further to remind her how fortunate she had been to be raised in a loving home with plenty of money and material items.

Li surprised her by continuing on a slightly different line. “The Bible say to live a good life and be good to people. Master K’ung say much the same. It hard to understand eternal life. It hard to understand God.”

Victoria smiled. “I agree. Sometimes it’s very hard to understand what God has in mind.” She paused and studied the petite woman. Li wasn’t very old, not even twenty. Yet here she was thousands of miles away from her loved ones and the home she had known. She was married and had a child, and her entire way of thinking had been challenged by foreigners. Not merely challenged but forcefully altered.

Li had told her how the American missionaries had taken away her few possessions, encouraging her to leave behind all of her Chinese influences and to take on only those of American teaching. Of course, now Victoria could better understand why Li didn’t put up more of a protest and hide some of her things as many of the Chinese immigrants did.

She had cast off her old life, taking the long skirt and blouse the missionaries offered her—following their encouragement to pin her hair into a tight bun on top of her head. But after marrying Xiang and moving to Sacramento, Li had returned to the more comfortable styles of her people. She might be embracing America as her new home, but some familiarity was still required for happiness.

The long, flowing tunic of linen, sometimes silk for very special occasions, complemented by wide-legged pants of the same material, made up the costume most commonly worn by the Chinese women of the area. And while some pinned their hair up in circular braids around their ears, Li usually preferred to have her ebony tresses braided down her back, in nearly the same queue fashion of her husband. Her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes gave her an exotic look that Victoria thought quite beautiful. Her spirit and gentle heart only served to accentuate her appearance. Li was beautiful inside and out.

“Do you miss your homeland?” Victoria asked, only realizing after she’d spoken that the words had been said aloud.

“I miss my sisters,” Li admitted. “I not miss the fear and ugly ways of the dowager empress and her soldiers. Many talked of coming to
Gam Saan,
Gold Mountain. But many died for such talk. Dowager empress say she cut off heads of every man who try to leave for Gam Saan.” She paused for a moment and looked at Jia, who had begun to fuss. “Tea ready now. I give some to Jia.”

Victoria watched her go to work and tried to imagine what it would be like to risk your life in order to seek a dream in a new country. Not only the risk of striking out for an unfamiliar land, braving storms at sea to cross the vast ocean between China and America, but then living with the threat of decapitation if your plans were found out before you could escape. Not only that, but Victoria knew from things Li had said on previous occasions that most of the Chinese who left their homeland had full intentions of returning. They would go to Gam Saan and pick up their basketful of gold and return as wealthy men to their families and native land.