The Scavenger's Daughters (Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters, Book One) (10 page)

“Now that is luck! Who would’ve thought to see what was down there? Back then it was said that those old wells were used to dispose of unwanted infants. My team stayed far away from it, scared of unsettled spirits haunting it, I suppose.”

Benfu had also heard that rumor and on the few times he’d raised up his instrument, he refused to look deep into the well for fear of what he’d see. It
was a disturbing thought, and one that he had no trouble believing to be true in an era during which so many horrible acts were committed.

“Do you still play?” Pei asked.

Benfu shook his head. For years everything except songs praising Mao was forbidden. By the time real music was allowed again, Benfu had lost his desire to play.

Pei looked disappointed. “Well, that’s very sad to hear. Mao tried to take away everything that brought us joy—art, books, and even music. Zheng, I learned a lot about antiques during my time after the revolution. Even though many things were lost, some treasures were safeguarded. Good for you. Do you still have the violin?”

Benfu hesitated as he watched the man nervously tap his fingers on the table. He’d never forget how his parents had told him to keep the family heirloom safe from all others. He thought he could probably trust Pei, but in China it only took one slipped word to lose something of value. He looked around at the packed restaurant. Who knew who was listening to their conversation?

Benfu shook his head. “Unfortunately I haven’t laid my fingers across it for many decades. Everything was lost to me in those days, even my desire to make music.”

Pei rubbed at the middle of his forehead, his eyes closed for a moment.

“You weren’t the only one with a secret, you know.”

Benfu raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. He thought perhaps Pei had hidden a romance of some sort. At the time, relationships between non-married individuals were absolutely forbidden. Yet nothing could stop the magnetic pull of young love and despite the repercussions, it still happened; even in his commune he’d seen a few stolen moments here and there.

“When my parents’ library was ransacked and everything destroyed, the Red Guards thought they’d gotten everything. But I hid a collection of classics from them. I kept one concealed with me at the commune and the rest
in a safe place. No one found the books and after everything was over, I was able to retrieve them from the inside of the walls in our house.”

Benfu was taken aback. Pei must have been a very brave lad back then. If he had been caught with any books other than the party-approved listed ones, he would have been severely punished. “
Aiya,
that was quite a chance you took, Pei.”

“I know.” Pei looked around nervously and Benfu could see he was afraid to talk of it. Though Mao was dead, there were still many devoted followers who would love a chance to prove their loyalty by settling old scores.

“It took me a few years, but I was finally able to reconcile my thoughts to the truth that what Mao was doing was quickly erasing all the pieces of China that would help us remember where we came from. When I started to show dissension, they tried to starve my body but they could no longer control my thoughts. I’ll never forget those days,” he whispered across the table.

Benfu nodded. He also would never forget the ache in his stomach from days without food or the hundreds of welts that covered his body from the hordes of insects in the shed. He wished he
could
forget, and he had tried to for years, but the memories were still as vivid as if it were yesterday. But at least the night he was freed was a part of it all, softening the horror. He still remembered the clink of the metal against the lock and the first fresh breaths of air when the door was opened. He’d expected another beating to be waiting but instead had met a boy’s worried face and his first bit of food he’d had in such a long time. It was an amazing moment he’d treasure always. He still wished he could have found the real Pei.

With that Benfu stood. “It’s time I must get back to work.”

Benfu led the way out of the restaurant and through the door to the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder to find Pei following closely. Though a bit embarrassed about the shape of his only transportation, Benfu pushed those thoughts aside and went to the front of the bike.

“See this?” he asked, pointing to the battered water canteen hanging from the handlebars.

Pei nodded.

“This was given to me from the Pei I was looking for today. It’s a long story I can’t really speak of, but this canteen is a symbol of an extraordinary night that sealed a friendship between us. Many times I almost dropped it in the river but I couldn’t make myself do it. It’s my only solid reminder of him—the one person in that commune to show me mercy. I always hoped I’d be able to return it to him.” He was surprised at the sudden mist of tears that threatened to come.

“That’s amazing that you kept it so long,” Pei said, taking the canteen and flipping it over to see initials carved on the bottom. “This is definitely an antique now, but more importantly it helps keep your memories intact. In any other case, I’d try to buy it from you for my collection, but I know you would not part with such a special piece. So thank you for showing it to me.”

With that Benfu chose to ignore the old tradition of avoiding emotion and displays of affection in public and he approached the smaller man. Pei saw it coming and opened his arms. Benfu embraced him, clapping him on the back heartily.

“Comrades for life,” Benfu said gruffly. He knew their paths would probably never cross again but still, he was glad to have had the chance to meet someone with some small connection to this past. Even if they hadn’t actually crossed paths, they had walked the same one for a time. And if he could admit it, perhaps meeting someone who held opinions close to his own had helped to heal one tiny part of his broken history.

“Comrades for life,” Pei agreed.

W
hat a difference one month could make. It was only February and already spring was making a subtle entrance. The unusually warm day was consolation for the fact that Benfu was so tired—even more so than usual. As he pedaled home, he was pleased at the balmy weather and best of all, relieved that their newest addition was still with them and doing well. The mandatory police report and newspaper listing had not brought anyone forward to claim her and despite Benfu’s worries of caring for another infant, he was glad to have her. Curiously, his little Jasmine had silently become Poppy’s unofficial guardian and had to be reminded constantly that she was only five and not big enough to carry the baby around. Each time she was reprimanded, she solemnly nodded her head and stepped back. The truth was that Benfu was glad she had finally perked up and was showing interest in something for the first time since he had found her the year before.

Unlike most of the children who were found near the train station or down secluded alleys, Jasmine he had discovered on a late-afternoon trip through one of the famous parks of Wuxi. While most patrons had left for the day, Benfu and Calli were spending a rare afternoon alone and were taking advantage of the last light of the day. As they walked hand in hand through the park, he had spotted a tiny girl of around four years old playing in one of the small ponds, the only thing there with her a ragged cloth doll. He still
remembered how magically the goldfish swam around her hands as she gracefully weaved them in and around the water in tiny swirls.

Benfu was suddenly jolted from his memories when his bicycle tire hit something. He stopped to get off the bike and bent down to pick up a few empty plastic bottles. He tossed them into the back of the cart and climbed back on, resuming his ride in deep contemplation.

In the park that day they’d stopped to ask the little girl where her parents were but she wouldn’t—and still hadn’t—spoken. Benfu had reported finding her to the police, but nothing came from the so-called investigation and after her photo was run in the local papers for a month with no one coming forward, she was officially placed with him and Calli. By then she’d felt like theirs anyway, as the department had allowed them to keep her in their home during its search. He still wondered if she was actually abandoned or just lost, but at least the girl seemed content to be with them. And he had to admit, the child was one of the most special he had known. His affection for her was huge.

Benfu was surprised Jasmine had taken to the newest daughter so well. With Poppy’s arrival, Jasmine had lost her ranking as the baby of the family but it didn’t seem to register for her yet. He hoped that her unusual attachment to the infant would bring a breakthrough to cause her to finally speak. But so far it hadn’t happened. Even though they wanted her to have the best chance at life, which he thought would entail communicating, they never pushed her. Benfu felt that of all their children so far, Jasmine was the most introverted. She was really shy—even preferring her hair to fall around her face like a curtain, almost as if hiding from the world. He hoped to hear her speak just once before his own days were over, just to hear the sound of her voice, which he imagined would be soft and pure.

Benfu looked up and saw the blue sea of caps—the first signs of home. At the end of the narrow
hutong,
men wearing blue Mao caps bent over makeshift tables playing mahjong or cards. A few of them lifted their hands in greeting as he passed. Some days—especially like today when his bronchitis was acting up and he felt as if he couldn’t catch his breath—he wished he
could be like them and pass his days with games and naps, but most days he wouldn’t trade his life for anyone’s. He was close now and felt he couldn’t get home fast enough. His old legs were tired of pedaling and he looked forward to a cup of tea.

Picking up the pace, he turned the corner and pedaled down the lane to his courtyard. Just on the other side of the gate he paused when he saw a large basket of corn sitting on the ground. The unexpected bounty brightened his day and he gave silent thanks for the generous neighbor who had left it.

“Ye Ye
hui jia le
!”

Benfu heard Ivy’s loud announcement of his arrival before he even saw her. He parked his bicycle beside the house and turned just in time to brace himself for the onslaught of hugs from a few of his daughters. After peeling Peony’s and Ivy’s arms from around his waist, he reached out and settled Lily, who had been jostled and looked like she was going to fall over. The girl had used her gnarled old stick to find her way out of the door and to his side, her small hand already holding on to the back of his coat to let him guide her back to the house.

“What are you girls doing? Why aren’t you finishing up your afternoon chores? I let you stay home today because you promised to help your Nai Nai,” he gently scolded. Some Saturdays he allowed them to stay home instead of taking them out around town to help him collect. He felt at their age, they needed some time to just enjoy being children without the constant pressures of earning income. Now that some of the girls were getting older, he knew it was embarrassing for them to be seen picking up trash.

“We
are
doing chores, Ye Ye. I was just emptying the mop water and I heard your bicycle. Guess what, Ye Ye? Someone left us corn and milk powder again and we still don’t know who!” Ivy answered, hopping up and down with the dripping bucket still in her hands.

Benfu smiled. Ivy was a smart one, listening for the sound of his bike. Linnea had fixed the loose wheel yet again, but it still squeaked and the girls loved that they could hear him coming down the lane and rival one another
to be the first to greet him each day. For him and his tired old legs, knowing what was waiting for him made those last few yards easier.

“Indeed we’ve had a secret visitor again, haven’t we? How lucky are we? And they didn’t leave their name, so they’re an example of a true giving heart. Ivy, pick six of the best ears from the bunch and take them over to Widow Zu. Let’s spread the gift.” He picked up the basket of corn with the can of milk powder on top and carried it to the door. He set it down and took off his outer jacket, hanging it on the first nail beside the row of ten. He never wore his work jacket inside, as it reeked of trash.