Dreams of the Red Phoenix (20 page)

“For now, we are at a camp in the caves. I can't say more.”

“I see,” Charles said. “Up in the mountains.”

Han stepped closer and asked, “But I wonder, do you know
what you and your mother are going to do?”

Charles let out a long breath. “I want to leave, but she's gotten
tangled up with that fellow Captain Hsu. I think he wants her to
stay and keep running the medical clinic in our house. Seems like
a crazy idea to me.”

“Hsu is an excellent leader, and I heard about your mother.
She is known in many provinces as a very brave woman.”

“I suppose,” Charles said.

“But you feel it is time for you to leave?” Han asked, his ex
pression more serious than ever.

He looked like a soldier, Charles realized. He looked like a
man.

“So, where will you go?” Han asked. “Peking?”

“No,” Charles said. “It's time for us to return to America.”

Han nodded. “I am sure your father would want that.”

Charles let out a relieved chuckle. “How did you know that I
keep wondering what he would want? You're such a good buddy
to me, Han.”

Han smiled, too. “I feel quite certain he would want you to
leave China. Yes, I feel this is true.”

Charles wondered for a moment why his friend seemed so
convinced. He dug a hand deeper into his pocket and ran his fin
gers over his father's marble chop, his confidence growing as he
touched the familiar worn shape of the carved phoenix. “You're
right,” Charles said. “I'll tell Mother. I'll positively insist on it.
Would you like to join us for supper?” he asked. “We haven't
much, but I bet it's better than army food.”

“Army food is not great, but I must be getting back. I came to
see Hsia P'angtze. He knows me, you know?”

“Sure, I know. I assumed he found you and that's why you're
here. I sent him.”

“
You
sent him?” Han asked.

“Well, who else would have sent him?”

Han looked quickly again at the birds. “It doesn't matter. I am
here. That's what matters.”

Charles wanted to ask more about Little Fat Boy and where
Han had been and what he was going to do next, but he had to let
it go. Han was a soldier, with all the knowledge and secrets that
entailed. Han hustled the last of the pigeons back into the coop.
He kept Hsia P'angtze out, took a small strip of paper from his
jacket pocket, and attached it to the bird's leg with a thin black
thread. Then he raised the creature up into the air and, with a
flourish, let him go.

“I don't know what you're up to, Han,” Charles said. “But I
assume it's for the good.”

“Yes,” Han said, “it is.”

He closed the door of the coop, turned back to Charles, and
bowed. Charles bowed, too, and when he stood straight again,
Han was striding toward the stairs. Charles rushed to look over
the edge of the wall, but his friend was already gone, somehow
blending in with the many other Chinese passing on foot and in
carts. Charles put Han's cap onto his head and looked out at the
fields that burned red in the late day with the sun going down.

F
rom all the way across the courtyard, Shirley could see Jap
anese soldiers standing at attention in front of her home:
the young one who had swept her back steps and a second one
who also looked familiar. Major Hattori paced the verandah, his
hands clasped behind his back. During her afternoon expedition
into town, she had been surprised to find few signs of the Japa
nese Imperial Army. Weeks before, they had swarmed in, worse
than locusts descending on an already weak harvest, and attacked
and ravaged the town before swiftly moving on, she hoped, to
the next province. And yet, here were three of them in the mis
sion compound. She wanted to stomp up her front steps and give
the major a piece of her mind. But instead, she clenched her fists
as she wove through the Chinese camps beneath the fruit trees.
Their cooking smells soothed her now in a familiar way, but
she was not to be calmed. She spat on the ground as the Chinese
did to clear ill humors, knowing it was fury she must expel. She
stepped through the moon gate, skimmed the steps, stopped be
fore the stone-faced officer, and offered a crisp, perfunctory nod.

“Good evening, Major Hattori. It's awfully late in the day to
be paying a visit.”

He gave an abrupt bow. “I wait for you, Mrs. Carson.”

“I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I'm not available at the
moment. My head is spinning, and I haven't eaten all day. My son
has taken a wrong turn, and I have many mouths to feed. I must
get on with my evening plans.”

“We will meet now,” he said. “We know you have Chinese
under roof. We suspect some are soldiers. You offer them not
only food but medical help, too. Our general is aware of all this.
You should be punished. But that is not why I am here.”

“Oh, really?” she said nonchalantly, trying to hide her alarm.

“Also, I am not surprised you lose your son. You are very bad
mother.”

Shirley let out a gasp. “You do seem to have theories on
many topics, Major. And in addition to everything else I've been
through today, you seem interested in chastising me. Are you a
parent yourself? If not, I suggest you hold your tongue.”

The major's grip tightened around the holster at his hip.

“Please,” she tried again, “let's speak tomorrow. I'll be much
more civilized then. Are you available to come for tea? Let's say
four o'clock. Now, good evening, Major Hattori.”

Before he had a chance to reply, Shirley spun around, opened
the heavy door, slipped across the threshold, and shut it behind
her. As she pushed the iron bolt into place, her heart beat so
loudly in her chest she worried he could hear it on the other
side. She was certain he would start pounding at any moment,
but as she stood with her ear to the carved rosewood, his boots
retreated down the porch steps, leaving her surprised by her
easy victory.

Shirley took off her sunbonnet and headed to the coat rack.
The nurses huddled together in the front hall had overheard her
conversation with the Japanese major. They watched her in both
awe and horror. One of them, a Chinese girl with close-cropped
hair and the trousers worn by the Communist women, said, “Jap
anese dogs! Yellow Army dwarf bandit sons of whores. I say we
invite them inside and kill them! If you offer tea,” she hissed at
Shirley, “I poison his cup!”

Several of the more sensible young ladies looked appropriate
ly shocked at this idea, but at least as many appeared to seriously
consider the suggestion. Who could blame them, Shirley thought,
after what they had seen the Japanese inflict on their compatriots,
soldiers and citizens alike?

“The Japanese Army has been absolutely barbaric,” Shirley
said, “but you must remember that our American compound re
mains neutral territory. We are safe here. There is no rule against
us running a clinic to help Chinese citizens if we choose. We've
done that for years, offering inoculations and various treatments.
But we must behave in as civilized a manner as we can in this
tense climate in order to remind them that America is not their
enemy. Otherwise we will risk losing our clinic and will be un
able to assist anyone. Now,” she said, as she handed the empty
food basket to one of the women, “tell me, dear ladies, did any of
our patients pass over to the other side while I was gone?”

The young Communist woman said, “I say, fight them here
and now and get it over with!”

“My dear, you are far too young to instigate such action,” Shir
ley said. “You must leave the military strategizing to men like
Captain Hsu.”

The Communist woman put her finger up to her lips and
squeezed Shirley's arm. The other young ladies crowded closer,
their faces wild with concern, their heads shaking from side to
side. They all seemed to be trying to tell her something, but be
fore she had a chance to inquire further, Kathryn rose from the
piano bench. Shirley hadn't noticed her there and was startled to
see her but grateful for the familiar face on this most wretched
of days.

“Kathryn, my dear,” she said and reached out with open arms,
“I have missed you so. How are you? I hope you've had a better
day than I. I can't crawl into bed fast enough.”

Kathryn took a last drag on a cigarette and dropped it onto
the polished wooden floorboards of the front hall. Shirley was
shocked but tried not to show it. That Kathryn would smoke so
openly wasn't terribly surprising given the tense circumstances,
or even that she would do so inside a missionary home. But Shir
ley did not appreciate that her friend now treated her house like
a pool hall. However, when she saw her friend's cool expression,
she decided to let it go. She stepped closer and let her arms drift
to her sides again. There would be no hugging.

“I'm so sorry,” Shirley said, “I've been remiss and haven't paid
a call in I don't know how long. I've hardly seen anyone for days.”

“You seem to have seen many people,” Kathryn said, looking
around at the medical helpers and the beds occupied by patients.
“Just not the usual ones.”

“That's true, isn't it?” Shirley said, offering a smile. “And I see
you've taken up smoking publicly. Whatever will the other ladies
think?” She let out a friendly titter, which Kathryn did not echo.

“The other ladies are more understanding than we knew
them to be. They have each risen to the situation in their own
way and are not as petty as we once thought. I've come to like
them quite a bit, actually.”

Shirley found that hard to imagine but did not contradict her
friend. “How nice,” she said.

“I came by to tell you about the meeting last night.”

“Oh, the meeting! I knew I forgot something. Yes, do tell.”

“The entire congregation met. Reverend Wells did an excel
lent job. He has stepped up to the plate better than anyone could
have expected.”

“No longer the rumpled little bookworm that he used to be?”
Shirley tried again with a smile.

“No,” Kathryn said with an arched eyebrow and an accusing
look in her eye. “No one is who they once were.”

Shirley nodded. “I suppose not.”

“A vote was taken, and plans have been made. We are all
leaving.”

Shirley went to the piano and settled on the bench, her elbows
accidentally hitting several deep and discordant notes.

“We will take the train to Peking and from there to Shanghai,
where we will make passage.”

“Passage?”

“To America,” Kathryn said. “I assumed you knew that.”

“No,” Shirley offered softly, “l didn't know.”

“Orders have come from the American legation in Peking.
All American women and children must leave the country im
mediately,” Kathryn said. “Foreigners are being kicked out. It
isn't safe for us any longer.”

Her stoniness was as jarring as the news itself. But then Kath
ryn surprised Shirley by kneeling down before her and taking
her hands from her lap.

“You've been wonderful and heroic, but you really must stop
now. It's time to go home.”

Kathryn pressed her cheek into Shirley's hands, and Shirley
instinctively stroked her charming bobbed hair. She was such an
enthusiastic, large-hearted girl. It was good she was returning to
America. She would find a new life there. The man who had not
materialized for her here in China would find her on the ship
going back. Shirley could picture it: Kathryn would lean against
the ship's railing, the wind blowing her hair around her pretty
face, when an impressive fellow with an eye for finer things and
a mind expanded by his years in the Orient would step forward
to light her cigarette, and together they would commence a new
life. Just like that. Such things did happen. All the time. To other
people.