Stone, Katherine (19 page)
Authors: Pearl Moon
Eighteen
Lloyd-Ashton Centre
Wednesday, September 1, 1993
When
Sir Geoffrey Lloyd-Ashton returned to his office following his
1:00 p.m. address to the Legislative Council, he noticed the blinking light on the
small black device on his desk. Usually the device was without life. Because it
signaled activity, Geoffrey strode across the Ming carpet to the
eleventh-century armoire. Both carpet and armoire were works of art, prized
possessions of ancient emperors.
The armoire was more than decorative. Behind its ornate doors surveillance
equipment monitored every square inch of Peak Castle and its grounds. And, of
course, all phone calls were recorded. The armoire equipment was a satellite
version of what existed in the castle itself. Here, he had a single television
screen and VCR. In the castle, concealed behind a bookshelf, a roomful of
machines recorded activity throughout the castle.
The surveillance system had been installed when the castle was
built, before Geoffrey ever met his bride-to-be. Hong Kong's most powerful resident
knew he'd be hosting parties for the territory's elite. He wanted access to his
guests' most intimate conversations, tidbits ranging from impending mergers to
private scandals. Since the arrival of Governor Patten, the secretly gleaned
information had become critical. Sides were being taken. Some believed Hong
Kong's long-term economic survival could be assured only by swift democratic
reform, while others had already made lucrative deals with the government in
Beijing.
Geoffrey's surveillance system had proven invaluable in numerous
business pursuits. But it was the personal surveillance that gave him the
greatest pleasure. He could watch Eve every moment of every day if he wished,
observing her when she thought she was alone, invading every privacy.
Eve never did anything dramatic. She ate close to nothing, drank
only small amounts of tea, and the pills she ingested many times a day were
aspirin, taken in an attempt to lessen the headaches she had because of the
oral contraceptives he insisted she take. With Eve on birth control pills,
Geoffrey could claim his bride wherever and whenever he chose—and without
delay. The pills were also the most reliable way to prevent an unwanted
commingling of his patrician genes with her common ones.
Eve was usually a portrait of stillness. When she wasn't reading,
she was staring into space. She frequently went outside to do her staring,
standing at the very edge of a cliff.
There were times, rare but real, when she looked almost happy, as
if she'd escaped into a dream. Geoffrey would cancel his appointments and rush
home, shattering her happiness with the reminder that she belonged to him and
always would.
Sir Geoffrey Lloyd-Ashton hadn't become Hong Kong's wealthiest
taipan by wasting time watching the motionlessness of his wife, nor did he need
to program the cameras in the castle to record her every move while he was
away. Neither was necessary. The small black device on his desk alerted him to
any unusual activity.
As he unlocked the doors of the armoire, he saw two flashing
lights. The first, blinking twice per beat, signaled two recorded phone calls.
The second indicated a stranger in the castle, a voice the electronic sensors
didn't identify as belonging to any of the maids, chauffeurs, gardeners and
cooks who came and went on an unpredictable schedule determined by him.
A visitor to Peak Castle, to Eve, was Geoffrey's top priority. As
the image came into focus, he saw that Allison had appeared precisely when he'd
invited her to—when the skies over Hong Kong changed from azure to gray.
Geoffrey assumed the recorded calls would be between Eve and
Allison. He churned with anger when they weren't. The women must have spoken on
Monday, when Eve was away from the castle and using a phone he didn't control.
The first call was from a physician who identified himself as Lily
Kai's cardiologist. After profuse apologies for bothering Eve at home, the
doctor explained the reason for the intrusion.
"I've just finished seeing Lily."
"Is she all right?"
"Oh, yes. It was just a routine office visit. But I'm afraid
a rather awkward situation has developed and I thought you should be
forewarned. It seems Lily has imagined you've promised her you'll be at the
hospital on the day of her surgery. It's not unusual for a five-year-old to make
something like this up, but—"
"Lily isn't imagining anything, Doctor. I did promise her I'd
be there."
"You did?"
"Yes. I mentioned the promise to the nurses on Ward Three, and
they were going to let me know as soon as the date for her surgery was set."
"We set it today. We're planning for Monday, December
thirteenth."
"Do you have a time? I told Lily I'd see her before she goes
into surgery."
"She's scheduled to be the second case of the day. The
surgeons estimate they'll call for her at about ten that morning."
"So if I arrived at the hospital at eight, I'd be able to see her?"
"Certainly."
"And after? I also told her I'd see her when she
awakens." "If all goes well, she should be awake—and alert—by late
afternoon."
"If all goes well... Do you expect problems?"
"No, we really don't. One can't ever take open heart surgery
lightly, but the procedure itself is quite straightforward—placing a patch over
the defect. For Lily, it should be a cure."
"So once she's safely out of surgery, she'll be fine?"
"She should be. Well, I've taken enough of your time. Thank
you again, Lady Lloyd-Ashton. This is terribly nice of you, and it obviously
means a great deal to Lily and her parents."
Lily, Geoffrey mused. The Chinese girl for whom Eve had subjected
herself to numerous needle sticks. When had Eve planned to tell him about the
promise she'd made? Perhaps never. Lily's surgery had been scheduled for a
Monday, Eve's usual hospital day, and if he had no other plans for her that
afternoon, she'd be able to see Lily before and after surgery— and he'd never
need to know.
But now I know.
Geoffrey wanted Eve to keep her promise. No matter the outcome for
Lily, Eve's compassion would be a good human interest story for the local
media. For Cynthia, Geoffrey thought with amusement, knowing how Cynthia
despised such non-news—and that she'd do this story for him. Cynthia would be
at the hospital, as would he, supporting his princess whether she told him
about the promise or not.
The second recorded telephone call was outgoing, placed twenty
minutes earlier, from Eve to Juliana at the Pearl Moon boutique.
"You remember my mentioning Allison Whitaker," Eve said.
"The Jade Palace photographer who owns the gown you designed?"
"Of course I remember."
"Well, she's here with me now and has just told me she's
hoping to find another Pearl Moon gown to wear for the hotel's grand opening. I
thought it would be nice if she met with you directly. Would that be
possible?"
"Absolutely. I'd be delighted. Please tell her I'd also be
happy to design a gown for her."
"That's wonderful, Juliana. When should she come see
you?"
"Let me look at my book." There was a brief silence in
the recording before Juliana spoke again. "I have an opening this Friday
at 11:00. Would that be convenient for her?"
As Geoffrey idly listened to Eve confirm the date and time with
Allison before saying goodbye to Juliana, he recalled the telephone
conversation between Eve and Juliana that had been recorded in June—and to the
intriguing disclosure that Juliana and Maylene were mother and daughter.
Oh, the secrets you keep from me, my princess.
With
a smile, Geoffrey amended, The secrets you
try
to keep. There are no
secrets, my love, not from me.
***
"What a perfect afternoon, Eve." Allison stood with her
hostess at the front door of the castle. "Thank you so much."
"Thank
you
so much for coming, Allison. I loved having you. Are you
certain I can't have someone drive you back to the Trade Winds?"
"Oh, no. I'm going to enjoy wandering through the mist."
The mist—and the magic, Allison embellished as she walked down
Mount Austin Road.
Rain clouds had loomed overhead since Sunday, and today the
misting had begun. Soon, everyone said, the rain would fall in drenching
sheets.
Victoria Peak, in the mist, was a drama in silver and black. It
was as if billowing puffs of smoke drifted from the jaws of its blinded dragon.
As Allison walked, her thoughts drifted to the candlelit evenings
she'd spent with James since their Blue Lantern dinner in July. They met
weekly—carefully rationed rendezvous that began with his appreciative perusal
of her latest pictures, followed by dinner—and, in breathtaking moments, his
appreciative perusal of
her.
Most of the time, his eyes were guarded. Polite and interested as
a friend's would be—but distant. And his hands touched only to guide her
through doorways and across streets.
But there were times James seemed to forget the rules he'd made.
Allison saw hunger then.
But was it hunger for her? Or, by some extraordinary coincidence,
did she remind him of Gweneth?
Allison had no idea Eve herself had been wanted only because of
her resemblance to another woman. But she knew that when she asked Eve to tell
her about Gweneth, Eve seemed to understand what she was really asking and had
taken great care to assure her there was no similarity at all.
Which meant James's desire—James's need—were, astonishingly, for
her.
***
It was only six o' clock, and Allison had learned from James that
Maylene typically worked at Drake Towers until late into the night, but the
impeccably dressed figure ahead of her on Chater Road was definitely Maylene.
Allison hesitated before calling out, stalled by the mixed
responses she'd gotten from Maylene in the past. Mixed and extreme, in both
directions.
Allison had never felt more welcome than when Maylene greeted her
at the airport—as if Maylene had been waiting forever to meet her... and as if,
in this place of destiny, they were destined to become the best of friends.
Allison had felt it, wanted it, too. She still did, despite the
negative responses. That very same night, Maylene had stared at her.
Glared
at
her. True, Maylene had ascribed her frown to worry about a blueprint. But it
had felt personal to Allison, as though she'd willfully caused Maylene harm.
It had felt personal, too, on that early morning in July. Allison
had been on the verge of suggesting the two of them get together—and surely
Maylene had known that—when Maylene had suddenly cut her off.
Maylene was involved in an extraordinary and difficult project,
she'd told herself. Her moodiness was to be expected. It was also unlikely, not
to mention presumptuous, that a virtual stranger, as Allison was, would incite
a reaction of any sort—much less a strongly negative one.
Or strongly positive one.
Urged by the memory of those first moments at the airport, Allison
closed the gap between them.
"Maylene?"
"Allison."
Allison saw dark circles rimming anxious eyes. She understood the
fatigue—the relentlessness with which Maylene and Sam had been working on the
hotel—but not the anxiety. According to James, the Jade Palace was progressing
flawlessly. "Are you through for the day?"
"I wasn't accomplishing anything. How about you?"
"I'm through, too. In fact, I took the entire day off. I
shopped this morning and visited with Eve this afternoon." Allison had
intended to spend the evening in her darkroom, but... "Since we've both
called it a day, would you like to have dinner with me?" When Maylene's
response was an instant frown, Allison offered, "You probably already have
plans."
"No, I don't." Then, with a conviction that sounded more
determined than confident, Maylene said, "I'd like to have dinner with
you, Allison."
"Shall we do something informal? Room service in my
apartment?"
"That sounds good."
"Please excuse the clutter," Allison said as she
escorted Maylene into her living room. "I'm in the midst of assembling a
package to send to my family."
The clutter was a potpourri of Hong Kong offerings, and included
items of apparel. The silk ties and cashmere sweaters spoke volumes, Maylene
thought, about the recipients. One grandmother was pastel, the other vivid, and
of the three men in Allison's family, at least one was willing to take fashion
risks.
Pointing to a particularly flamboyant tie, she asked, "Who's
this for? Your father?"
"No. My grandfather. My mother's father." Allison eyed
the tie critically. "It may be a bit flashy even for him."
Maylene allowed her fingers to touch the conservative ties.
Allowed
them to? No, the foolish fingers moved of their own accord, wanting to touch
something destined to be worn by her father—or grandfather.
The thought of a grandfather took her by surprise. She'd mourned
Juliana's parents, the grandmother and grandfather who'd been swallowed by the
sea. Until this moment she'd never thought about the grandparents who were
alive.
Her paternal grandfather would wear one of the ties she was
touching. And her grandmother? Maylene's hands drifted from ties to sweaters.
And, as if her fingers already knew the answer, they came to rest on a
carnation pink. "Is it your maternal grandmother who wears bright
colors?"
Allison nodded. "The Whitakers are more traditional than the
Parishes."
Traditional.
The word pierced, and taunted. An
illegitimate half-Chinese granddaughter doesn't exactly define traditional,
does she? Think your Whitaker grandparents would be happy knowing you'd
lovingly, and so foolishly, caressed garments they'd one day wear? Dream on!
The cashmere beneath her fingertips became spun glass, its sharp
fibers cutting her flesh. Maylene reached for the stack of photographs nearby.
The first was so soothing—sunrise over Victoria Harbour—that she moved eagerly
to the next, and the next.
It was working. She was feeling calmer. Soon she'd be able to look
up and smile. Just a few more soothing photos.
Hong Kong had recently celebrated the Festival of the Hungry
Ghosts. The Chinese equivalent of Halloween, it was a time when the gates of
the underworld were opened, for twenty-four hours only, and the
Yen Lo,
the
hungry ghosts, were permitted to roam the earth. To keep the wandering spirits
happy, thus averting their wreaking havoc on the living, symbolic offerings
were made.
Festivities for the underworld visitors concluded with the
launching of a fleet of miniature "ghost ships" into the sea. A
candle glowed in each tiny boat, creating a cumulative light that illuminated
the banner on the last one.
Hsun-feng Teh-li,
it read: Temper the winds
and gain profits.
Staring at the flotilla of ghost ships in the photograph, Maylene
recalled the day she'd learned the truth about her father—the day the best
parts of her died. From the ashes, her own hungry ghosts had risen to wreak
havoc on Juliana.
Maylene's ghosts weren't content with just one day of freedom, nor
had they sailed into a candlelit sunset never to harm again. They lived within
her. And that, she'd vowed, was where they'd remain. Never again would she
allow the gates of her own underworld to open.
Never. Again. She looked at the pictures and smiled. "These
are wonderful, Allison. I'd love to see more. Or are all the others in the
vault downstairs?"
"No, nothing's there. I keep the negatives in the asbestos
file cabinets, but even that seems an unnecessary precaution. So if you'd like
to see them..."
"I definitely would."
***
They spent an hour in Allison's darkroom, and even though some of
the photographs triggered difficult memories of the past, Maylene stayed
focused on the present. By the time they returned to the living room, she felt
stirrings of hope. I can do this. I can be with Allison—where I
want
to
be—and control my pain.
During their hour in the darkroom, the skies had opened. Rain fell
in sheets, blurring city lights, running the colors together.
"Look at this rain!" Allison exclaimed. "How
cozy."
"Cozy?"
Maylene echoed
incredulously, cringing at her tone and terrified of its meaning. She'd been
feeling so confident of her ability to remain in control. And now? Had one of
her hungry ghosts escaped after all?
No.
It was something else. But it
had caused harm. The expression on Allison's face reminded Maylene of Juliana's
disbelief when the daughter who'd always been so loving suddenly turned cruel.
Maylene heard herself saying to her sister the words she hoped she'd one day
find the courage to say to her mother. "I'm
sorry,
Allison."
"It's okay!"
"No, it's not. I probably should've said no to doing anything
tonight. I should have known I'd be terrible company."
"Why, Maylene? Has something happened with the Jade
Palace?"
"No. It's just me. My period's due. PMS is not an excuse. I
know
that. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, it's a weakness—a design
flaw."
"It may be a design flaw," Allison conceded. "But,
Maylene, it's
not
a weakness. It happens. It's very real."
"I'd actually been wondering how real it was. I feel so
emotional sometimes, so
crazy.
This afternoon I'd decided the past two
weeks of blueprints were hopeless and was about to feed them to the shredder
when I noticed the date on the calendar and realized I'm due again."
"That must have been a relief."
"Well, it was a stay of execution for the blueprints. I'll
look at them again in a few days."
"And you'll see they're fine."
"I hope so. What about you, Allison, do you get PMS?"
"I don't get it now, and I don't remember if I ever did. I've
been on birth control pills since I was eighteen. I imagine that evens out the
hormonal swings."
Maylene concealed her surprise that Allison was taking birth
control pills. Yes, twenty-seven-year-old virgins were rare. But if she'd had
to bet on someone who'd give herself only to the man she'd love forever, it
would be Allison. Now she'd learned that during the same year she'd left Hong
Kong, loathing herself so much she doubted any man would ever want to touch
her, Allison had begun using birth control. Men
had
wanted to touch
Maylene, and she'd permitted them to, and she'd discovered she was destined to
disappoint.
Was this—sex—something sisters discussed? And was making love such
pleasure for Allison that she wanted it often and so impulsively that birth
control pills were the only practical approach?
Maylene broached the subject cautiously. "Eighteen seems
young to have gone on the pill."
"Yes, although in my case, I should've started taking it much
sooner. My periods were excessively heavy, but since I'd never discussed the
subject with anyone, I didn't know what was usual. A week before I was supposed
to begin college, I collapsed."
"Was that why you needed the blood transfusion?"
Allison nodded. "When the doctors discovered transfusions
weren't possible, they gave me iron and birth control pills instead. They were
skeptical the pills would control the bleeding, but they have, and now I'm on
them forever. Well... until it's time to get pregnant."
"Is it safe for you to go off the pill, Allison? Mightn't you
bleed too heavily before you become pregnant?"
"Maybe. Although what my doctors—and family—are most
concerned about is childbirth itself. There's no solid medical evidence I'd
have the complications my mother did, but even the possibility, given my
inability to receive blood, has made them conclude I should never have
children."
"But you don't agree."
"I don't know the medical answer, only the emotional one.
I'll want to have children with the man I love."
"Not if it might cost you your life!"
"That's what it cost my mother, Maylene. But she gave my father
the baby he wanted."
The baby he wanted. The words tore at the baby Garrett Whitaker
didn't want. But Maylene scarcely noticed
that
pain. New emotions were
clawing at her as she imagined Allison dying during childbirth—dying
ever.
Allison can't die. I won't
let
her.
Maylene was half Whitaker, half traditional, but the other half of
her envisioned something decidedly avant-garde. In this era of in vitro
fertilization and surrogacy, women carried other women's children... women
who'd had their babies already, or knew they never would and wanted to help
mothers who should.
Women, she thought, like me.
***
They'd finished their Szechuan feast from the Wild Ginger and were
drinking tea when Maylene returned their conversation to the weather. Her voice
held apology, as if she wanted a second chance to discuss the topic civilly.
"Tell me why you like the rain so much."
"Because it really does feel cozy to me."
To me, too, Maylene realized. But why? Not because of her life in
London. The drizzle there felt depressing. So, was there something cozy about
the tropical rains of Hong Kong?
Yes.
Maylene couldn't remember what it
was, only that it felt like being safe... like being loved.
"I also like walking in the rain," Allison said.
"The rainwater feels cleansing. Fresh and pure."
"I've never tried it."
"Really? Downpours like this are typical in Hong Kong, aren't
they? From the conversation at Peak Castle, I gathered you'd been raised
here."
"I was. I guess I always carried an umbrella."
"Do you have family here? Sisters and brothers?"
"I have a sister." Maylene stared at her teacup. And
yes, she is here. "She doesn't know about me, though."
"She doesn't? Why not?"
"My—our—father was an American. He was in Hong Kong just long
enough to get my mother pregnant. He told her he loved her. But it was an
expedient lie. He returned to the States and never looked back."
"Did he know your mother was pregnant?"
"Oh, yes. The last time she spoke to him was two days after I
was born."
"Oh, Maylene. I'm sorry."
Maylene looked from her porcelain teacup to Allison's sympathetic
face. "What do you think of a man like that?" "I— What do
you
think?"
"That he's despicable. Beneath contempt." This was so
dangerous, this dance with pain. Maylene had vowed to keep the gates of her own
underworld closed forever, and she would, but there were questions she needed
to ask. "Can you imagine your father doing something like that?"
"My father? No. Never. You said he has another daughter— your
sister?"
"Yes. She has no idea I exist."
"Have you ever thought about getting in touch with her?"
"I've thought about it a lot. What do you think, Allison?
Would she want to know about me?"
"Of course! Why wouldn't she? You're her
sister."
"Yes—but both her parents are Caucasian. Wouldn't it be a
little shocking for her to discover she has a half-Asian sister? Might it even
be something she'd prefer not to know?"
"No, Maylene! She'd want to know about you—to know
you."
Tell her, Maylene's heart urged. It's safe. You know it is.
Allison would never turn away in disgust.
No! Don't you
dare.
The warning should have come from a
hungry ghost and been accompanied by reminders of how tarnished she was. But
it, too, came from her heart. You can't
ever
tell Allison. Yes, she'd
gain a sister—and, because she's Allison, she'd overlook your every flaw. But
she'd lose a father in the process, the honorable man she believes him to be.
You can't shatter Allison's fantasy. You, of all people, know the anguish of
discovering bitter truths about a parent you love. You cannot—
will not
—cause
Allison such sadness. You're not that cruel.
"Maylene?"
You're not that cruel.
The pronouncement sang with
nary a rebuttal from a hungry ghost. Whether the ghosts agreed, or were merely
stunned into silence, didn't matter. "It isn't the right time to tell her.
It may never be."
Allison nodded, unable to speak. Maylene's expression reminded her
of those first moments at Kai Tak. It
wasn't
just her. Maylene wanted
their friendship, too. It might be difficult. It already had been. But it was
worth fighting for. With that, she ventured further into the emotional
territory where friends lived.
"What about your mother, Maylene? Is she in Hong Kong?"
"Yes. She's here, but I haven't seen her. We drifted apart
years ago."
"Do you know how she is?"
"Oh yes. She's fine. Terrific actually. Hugely
successful."
