All the Tea in China (34 page)

I was not certain that she still listened when we reached the story of the Last Supper one night while she lay in bed, trying to find sleep. I found myself yawning with weariness and sought to stay awake. “In another story similar to this one, the author recounts that Jesus washed his disciples’ feet,” I said, scarcely without thinking.

Nai Nai frowned. “It is good that his disciples were not women, for such a thing should not be done.”

“What do you mean?”

She seemed embarrassed, and indeed, I believe I saw her blush. “Men are much taken with ladies’ feet. It is part of the intimacy process between a husband and wife.” She paused. “Surely you must know that.”

It was my turn to blush. Thank goodness I could truthfully deny it. How odd! “It is not part of our culture,” I said diplomatically.

She looked puzzled. “In China, men don’t care about a future bride’s face, but they’ll make sure her feet are small and delicate like golden lotuses.”

Oh my! Is that why she examined my feet in the hall that day?
She wanted to know if I was suitable for Phineas?
I cleared my throat. “Then that is why girls have their feet bound?”

She nodded. “My feet were wasted on my son’s father . . . What is wrong with men in your country that they do not care about such a thing? Golden lotuses bring pleasure to the husband.”

Because his wife’s toes have been broken?
“I confess that feet are not thought of much in my culture. In the times of Luke, when our story takes place, feet were thought to be dishonorable. People lived in a hot, dusty climate and wore sandals. Naturally, their feet became dirty and were thus considered dishonorable. For a teacher to wash his disciples’ feet was a sign of submission.” I paused, and the words spilled from my mouth. “Would you like me to wash yours?”

Nai Nai pushed back the covers and stuck out her feet. “Yes.”

I blinked, suddenly wide awake. “What?” No polite refusal or even a gracious hesitation?

She gestured at her feet covered with tiny bed slippers. “Yes. Wash mine. You talk about submission all the time in this story. Show me.”

I cleared my throat. “Very well.” I called for Fragrance, who, though already dressed for bed, brought us a pan of warm water and a cake of soap. I had Nai Nai sit on a chair, and I knelt before her. I gently removed the red slippers she wore to bed. Startled, I recognized the embroidery she had been working on, the silk covered with dainty flowers and animals. One of the servants must have made the slippers for her. How many hours she must have spent on the handiwork, hours of loneliness and grief.

I began removing the cloth that bound her feet. I could not believe they were so necessary after all these years, but perhaps to leave one’s feet unbound was even more painful. “I had the smallest feet in my family,” she said proudly. “All of my sisters said so. They were very jealous.”

I took a deep breath and removed the last of the bindings. Golden lotuses her feet might appear when she hobbled about, but grotesqueries of flesh were all I saw. They were even more disgusting up close than they had been when I viewed them from her doorway. Her big toe made a point at the end of each foot, with the other four toes pulled down and to the side until they nearly met her heels, like a piece of paper turned down at the corner. How anyone could find desire in such mutilation was beyond my understanding, and bile rose in my throat.

St. Peter had been unwilling to have the Master wash his feet, but he probably would have had no problem with washing Nai Nai’s. I, of course, was made of lesser stuff than the apostle, but I knew this moment was not only important for my future relationship with my mother-in-law but for my own future, as well. Had I not said, nay, boasted, for months that I had been called to be a missionary? What sort of Christian ambassador would I be if I could not perform this task for the mother of my own beloved?

Taking one foot in my palm, I dipped soft cloth into the soapy water and gently washed. Somehow I did it without dwelling upon its grotesqueness, but in thinking about how much I wanted to please Phineas and, more so, Jesus. I slowly realized that I wanted to please Nai Nai, as well. I could read her the Gospel According to St. Luke, even in Chinese, till I was blue in the face, but what would she understand more—words or a demonstration of how much our Lord loved us all?

When I finished, I patted her feet dry. I held the bindings in my hand, unwilling to re-cover her feet. I wanted them to be free, I wanted them to be whole again.

“Bah! Give those to me.” Her words, though sharp, belied the fact that she took, rather than snatched, the bindings from my hands. “Let me do that. I have been doing it for longer than you have lived.”

I smiled up at her, and she paused. Again, I saw something flicker in her eyes, and I sensed that she wanted to return my smile. She frowned at me, however, and bent her head to wrap her feet.

Taking up the used pan of water, I rose to return it to Fragrance. When I was at the door, Nai Nai said, “You and Ah Chung are suited for one another. You have the same beliefs, even if they are peculiar.”

Flora would have called that a left-handed compliment, but I believed it to be a beginning of sorts for Nai Nai and me. “Thank you,” I said, then hastened from the room before I could spoil the moment by saying anything more.

Days passed into weeks. I tried not to be concerned about Phineas, but the more I did that, the more concerned I became. Of course, Jesus did not say “
try
not to worry” but simply “do not worry.” I confess to often missing that mark.

If he returned safe and sound, Phineas would want to return to England—or rather, America—as soon as possible. I could not believe I found myself thinking such, but I could not bear the notion of leaving Nai Nai and Little Sister. Though their lives were running smoothly again without the presence of opium and with the servants’ full cooperation, who would help Little Sister prepare for becoming some man’s wife? More importantly, what would happen to Nai Nai once her last child had left the home?

One afternoon, Nai Nai and I sat in the parlor, working on embroidery. She had grudgingly showed me how to duplicate the tiny stitches on her shoes. I thought to make something for Precious Spring’s baby, Honor, with such delicate patterns. Or perhaps, I smiled to myself, to set aside for my and Phineas’s own child one day, should we be so blessed. I thought happily of such things when Fragrance burst into the room, forgetting all decorum. “See who has arrived!”

I rose, fearful that the bandits or some other miscreants had returned. “Who is it, Fragrance?”

My husband stepped into the room, and I dropped the silk. His clothes were ragged, he wore an unfamiliar leather pouch, and he looked weary, but he was still my husband. Alive and home at last. “Phineas!” Forgetting proper behavior myself, I fairly lunged across the room and into his arms. “Oh, Phineas!”

“Isabella,” he murmured, embracing me closely, kissing my face and neck. “I made you a promise, did I not?”

I nodded, hugging him again. When we had our fill of rejoicing to be so close again—though I secretly thought I might never grow weary of his embraces and kisses—we reluctantly separated. It was then that I noticed Nai Nai standing quietly in the background. Her face registered shock at our behavior, but her eyes danced with barely suppressed joy at her son’s return. She did not draw attention to herself, however. Phineas could not seem to remove his gaze from my face, so I gestured toward his mother with my eyes.

He released me and went to her. “Mother,” he said, bowing.

She nodded. “Ah Chung,” she said softly, as though he were a ghost who might disappear.

He kissed her on the cheek, earning her surprised look. “Thank you for taking care of my wife,” he whispered, though it was loud enough for me to hear.

She glanced at me briefly then nodded. “You’re welcome.” She seemed to will a smile to his face. “You look weary. You would probably like to rest. I will have Cook make something special tonight to celebrate your return . . .?”

I do not believe that Phineas noticed the questioning tone at the end of her sentence, and I am certain that he did not see his mother glance at me when she asked it. I nodded slightly, and she beamed, rushing off to discuss the meal.

Little Sister greeted her brother as well, then headed toward the garden for some afternoon sun.

Alone at last, Phineas put his arm around my waist. Without speaking, only staring and smiling at one another, we headed back to our bedroom. Inside, he removed the leather pouch he had slung around his neck and dropped it into a chair. He took my face in his hands and kissed me long and deep. “I have missed you so much,” he murmured.

I ran my fingers through his queue, loosening his hair. “And I, you. So much has happened. I have so much to tell you.”

His put his fingers to my lips. “First, let me speak.” He reached into the leather pouch and removed what appeared to be a large golden cake. “Do you know what this is?”

I shook my head.

He smiled. “Do you not recognize tea leaves? These are the golden ones.”

I touched it with awe. No wonder he had sought these leaves. They shimmered in the light of the room like beautiful treasure. I did not know if they were as delicious to drink as he had said, but they were wondrous to behold.

“This represents the labor of my time away from you,” he said.

“This is all? One cake?” I smiled. “For this you hope to bring down the East India Company? It might fetch a nice sum at auction but hardly enough to put that venerable firm out of business, I believe.”

“And your belief is accurate.” He frowned, sinking wearily to a chair. “This is all I brought home.”

I knelt beside him, my hand on his knee.
So it is over.
“The Americans have taken the rest? They will sell it and begin to work against the East India Company?”

He closed his eyes. “I no longer care.”

“What?” I rose. “It is what you have worked for so long.”

Phineas took my hands and rose to face me. “The Americans,” he said bitterly, then tried again. “The American trading company will be no better than the British. They too are bringing opium to trade in China. Indeed, it is how they acquired the money to finance our expedition. I told them I would have nothing further to do with their venture.”

“I am sorry,” I said and meant it, though once it would have been a lie. “You worked hard for what you believed was right. I am also sorry that the Americans have taken the tea leaves for their own.”

“It does not matter, for I learned a secret from one of the monks in Hupei. Tea leaves undergo different processes to achieve different colors. Black is heated the most, green only lightly so, and white, even less.”

“White? I have never heard of such.”

“It is a tea primarily for royalty in China,” he said. “It is made from tender new buds plucked from the top of the plant. Much like the golden leaves, which grow only in a certain part of the mountains.”

“But that is no secret. You were aware of that already.”

He smiled. “The leaves are golden but undergo no heating at all. Which means that they will never make the long voyage to America—or England—without withering and becoming useless. They must be used quickly and thus can only be drunk in China.”

“Will you tell this to the Americans before they leave Canton with their supply?”

Phineas folded his arms and grinned.

I smiled in return. He took me in his arms and held me close. I felt his heart beating solidly. “I do not wish to be parted from you again,” I said softly.

“Nor I from you. When I learned the truth, I thought about what you have said these many months regarding revenge. I saw how foolish I would have been, even had my plan succeeded. I do not want to tilt at windmills when it would be time and effort spent apart from you.” He cupped my face. “You are the love of my life, Isabella. I want nothing more than to live with you, raise children”—he gestured at the cake of leaves, smiling—“and
yum cha
.”

He kissed me before I could say anything in return; indeed, there was nothing I
could
say, for he had expressed my desires as well. His attentions made my head swim, and I knew that all my news would have to wait, for I was about to forget everything.

“We can return to England if you like,” he murmured, scarcely ceasing with his kisses. Oh, he was a fiend with his kisses!—never allowing them to stay in one place for long, but placing one on my cheekbone, then one at the corner of my mouth, and another near my ear. “I am certain you are ready to leave this house,” he whispered. “Macao, Cape Town . . . wherever you wish to live.”

I shuddered, trembling. “I want to live here.”

“Canton?” His lips moved to my temple.

I could scarcely speak now! “Your mother’s house,” I finally managed to whisper.

He laughed softly, whispering against my ear. “You will have to tell me about this madness later, Wife, for it appears you have cast a spell on more than just me. I, however, am completely bewitched at the moment.”

With that, he lifted me into his arms. The tea cake dropped softly to the floor, where it remained until much, much later.

Every culture, nay, every generation, has a story to tell. Mine has been that of two cultures and hopefully many generations yet to come. Phineas and I still have the dogeared original and copies of the Gospel According to St. Luke. Like St. Francis of Assisi, we believe in preaching the gospel at all times—and if necessary, to use words. St. Francis’s statement is what I learned being a true missionary often means. We also still have the sword that has been in Nai Nai’s family for many years. We pray that it will never be needed again, but we are prepared, like Wo-Ping and Mei, to battle for righteousness.

And now, dear friend, I close my tale with the happy report that tea is also still important in our lives. Every year, Phineas and I travel together to the Mo Tong mountains to gather golden leaves, which we brew and drink with everyone we love, from the oldest to the youngest.

Jane Orcutt
is the author or coauthor of twelve books, including the bestselling
Porch Swings and Picket Fences
. She lives in the Fort Worth, Texas, area with her family.