The Scavenger's Daughters (Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters, Book One) (22 page)

Lao Gong spat on the floor, causing a serving girl to come running with a spittoon a second too late.

Embarrassed at his friend’s rudeness, Benfu cleared his throat and spoke. “Mao and his marathon swimming up the river to prove he was so strong—he wasn’t so strong when the peasants started realizing the truth in his treatment of them, was he? They thought he was exalting them to pedestals of power but he was really working them to death.”

Lao Gong leaned back in his seat and lit a cigarette, smiling to himself. “Boy, those were some days on the farm, weren’t they? And to think, you and I started out in opposite stations and now look at us—I’ve become the scholar and you’ve been branded no better than a peasant with your livelihood as a scavenger. Life is crazy, eh?”

Benfu didn’t take offense at Gong’s depiction of his status in life. He had chosen his path when he’d turned his back on his parents and decided not to return to the sheltered life they had offered after Mao’s revolution had ended. He wouldn’t trade it if he could. His parents hadn’t wanted to accept his new bride, so he’d declined his place as a professor’s son and all the benefits that would come with it. What he’d found over the years was that the peace of mind his new life brought him was far more valuable than the prestige living as a scholar’s son would’ve given him.

Sure, back then Lao Gong was a farmer’s son and the first one to welcome him when he’d arrived at the collective. He was also the one Benfu had gone to for help to learn how to handle the hard life in the country. Living in Shanghai as a teacher’s son hadn’t left Benfu very prepared for Mao’s so-called Cultural Revolution. He hadn’t even known the basics of farming when he’d shown up! Without Lao Gong showing him how to survive at the commune, Benfu doubted his cover there would have lasted as long as it had.
Even though Gong had not been the one to set him free that fateful day, when the revolution ended they’d both stayed around Wuxi and seen each other quite often. Despite the difference in their chosen careers, their bond had stayed strong over the years.

Ironically, when the revolution ended, Lao Gong found favor with an official and was given a job first as a guard, then later had risen through the ranks until he was a personal assistant to several consecutive officials. Lao Gong had kept in touch with Benfu, yet none of his offers of assistance were ever welcomed. Benfu had remained steadfast in his resentment of the government. He and Lao Gong had forged a truce when they’d finally come to blows over what Benfu considered disloyalty against the people by joining the ranks. After much discussion, they’d decided to remain friends but keep their career details to themselves.

Benfu set his cup down and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t want to take the conversation too far in the wrong direction. Lao Gong had been wronged by his own employer, just like Benfu knew he eventually would be. After decades of service, when Lao Gong grew too old to be any good to them, they had dropped him like a hot dumpling. Benfu knew his friend was bitter, but he thought Gong should be relieved he at least was smart enough to have saved his money over the years and had enough to live on until his last days. And he did still have connections he could call on in a crisis.

“But I’m not here to talk about the old days, friend. I need some information,” Benfu said.

Lao Gong gave him his full attention. Benfu knew he’d have his ear, as he had never asked for anything from him before. Even more interesting, they had never spoken about Benfu’s imprisonment by the peasants and the fact that Gong could have helped him but didn’t. Benfu knew that for his friend, it would have been risking too much and he didn’t blame him. Even though the tables had been turned and Gong went on to pursue an important post in the government, Benfu had never tried to use his friend’s position of power. Now Gong would be curious at his sudden change of heart.

“Have you heard of the family here in town named Sur, who have a son named Jet Li?”

Lao Gong creased his brow, deep in thought. An older man approached their table with a handful of cotton swabs poking from his shirt pocket, and two metal ear pickers in his hand. He tapped them together, questioning if either of them wanted their ears cleaned.

Benfu waved him away, irritated at the interruption. He also didn’t have ten reminbi to waste on a task he could easily do himself.

“Yes, I think I do know of that family. I still hear things through the park-side grapevine. Lao Sur caused some tongues to wag when he named his son after a movie star. People said it was blasphemous to Mao, who would have been very offended at such a gesture. What do they think? He can hear the gossip from the grave?”

Benfu took another sip of tea. “But what else do you know? Is the man involved in black money?”

Lao Gong shook his head. “No, no. Lao Sur is clean—no corruption. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I don’t want to say too much. But the son has his eye on one of my daughters. My first instinct was to dissuade her from seeing the son of an official, but this is complicated. This daughter is probably the most stubborn one I’ve had yet. For now the whole thing has calmed down, but I have a strong feeling by the way she is moping around that he isn’t easily forgotten. If my gut is right, she might start back up with him, and I don’t think she’ll listen even if I do forbid it.”

Lao Gong held his belly and laughed loudly. The sight of his tobacco-stained teeth made Benfu cringe. At least that was one benefit to Calli forcing him to give up smoking. He hoped his mouth looked nothing like his comrade’s.

“See what you get when you decide to shake the hand of fate by taking in all those girls? Back in the old days, girls would never think to choose their own suitors. We all used matchmakers for our children. The future was based on knowledge—dates, names, and even zodiac signs known to be compatible.
Marriages lasted for life! Now those of this generation go running around hog wild with anyone who catches their fancy.” Gong began to play with his bird again.

Benfu frowned. His friend could rant about him being a scavenger all he wanted, but Benfu wouldn’t allow him to make insinuations about his daughters. He began tapping his teaspoon against the porcelain cup as he fought to control his temper.

“And what about one of those younger ones you got living with you? I hear from the neighborhood she’s got white blood in her and the colored eyes of a sorcerer!”

Benfu felt his thunderous expression forming but couldn’t turn it off.

Gong held his hand up. “Now, comrade, don’t get all in a dander. I was just yanking your beard. I know someone had to take in all those orphaned children. What I don’t understand is why you?”

“Why
not
me? And if not me, then who?”

“Good point, Benfu, good point. Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you for years now about my change of heart and my respect for how you’ve spent your life.”

Benfu nodded and stopped his incessant tapping—listening but not yet forgiving the slight against his daughters. If he’d done anything at all, he knew he’d raised respectable girls and he wouldn’t have anyone saying anything different.

Lao Gong took a deep breath and continued. “I spent my life catering to officials higher up than me and ignoring my family. They lived life without me being a part of it. Now here I sit with a damn bird for company. My only son has moved on and barely makes time for me and his mother. But you—you’ve done something remarkable, Benfu. You really have. Instead of spending your life being bitter about the loss you suffered so many years ago, you’ve worked to build a legacy of love with those daughters of yours.”

Benfu’s eyes filled with tears. He looked down at his cup, hoping his friend couldn’t see his loss of composure. His friend’s speech was touching, no doubt. He knew Lao Gong wasn’t talking about the commune and his
treatment there. He referred to something much worse—the biggest tragedy in Benfu’s life. The incident he felt totally responsible for. Gong was the only other person still in his life who knew of his and Calli’s heartbreak so many years ago, yet he had never said such kind things to him before. Now would be a good time for him to ask Gong the questions he had been dreading. He was finally going to ask him to use his connections to help him find support for the girls in case something happened to him. It was time to start facing reality—he was getting old and so very tired. He took a deep breath but instead of being ready to start, he began to cough.

“Benfu, are you okay?” Lao Gong asked, gesturing behind him to the server to bring some water.

Benfu tried to get his breath but he felt like he was drowning in phlegm. He was embarrassed but he just couldn’t breathe! He grabbed his throat, coughing and coughing. The server brought the carafe and refilled his water glass. Benfu waved her away, beginning to panic at the loss of air and the sudden dizziness.

Lao Gong jumped to his feet and upset the teapot and cups in his attempt to lean over to thump Benfu on the back. His old friend’s mottled face was the last thing Benfu saw as a black curtain enveloped everything around him.

L
innea lay staring at the water-stained ceiling over her pallet, waiting for the last of her sisters to fall asleep. It had been such a long evening. They’d been playing cards as they waited for Ye Ye to come home for dinner when his old friend had arrived instead of him. Lao Gong told them he had left their Ye Ye at the hospital after he had fainted during their afternoon tea. His announcement had caused quite a commotion and her Nai Nai had gotten so frightened that Linnea thought she might have a stroke. When Gong had finally soothed them down with words of reassurance, he took Nai Nai to the hospital to sit with Ye Ye. Before leaving, Nai Nai had warned them that she might be gone until morning. When they didn’t return by nightfall, Linnea took charge to get the girls calmed and into bed.

That had proved harder than she expected. The girls were so upset they didn’t want to go to bed. But she had eventually succeeded and now even little Poppy lay sleeping contently in her cradle. Linnea tried to hold back the urge to move; instead she focused on silently counting to one hundred in English—a trick that Jet had told her he did when the pressures of school and his job made him sleepless.

Just great.
Now she was thinking about him again. She’d tried so hard to forget him but it wasn’t happening. She missed him terribly. She missed the way he made her feel like a woman—and not a girl like her family still
thought she was. She also missed his easy laugh and the way he was so protective of her in the streets and the park. She smiled in the dark, remembering their walks with his arm always snugly around her. Jet was the only other person besides her Ye Ye who had ever made her feel so safe. She wondered if she’d ever meet anyone like him again, or was she destined to be alone?

Finally, when she thought all the girls were asleep, she pulled the covers off and quietly stood. Tiptoeing to the table next to the bed, she slowly reached down and picked up the key that in all the chaos of their morning, her Nai Nai had forgotten to wear. Cradling it in her hand, she walked to the cabinet and unlocked the door. Linnea looked behind her to make sure no one had awakened and her mouth formed an O as she tried to quiet her breathing. She didn’t want to wake her sisters—she was sure one of them would tell. She could feel her heart racing and once more she wondered if it would have been easier to just ask Nai Nai for permission to see her page in the book. She had always been open with the girls, but this time Linnea didn’t want either of her grandparents to know that she was thinking about her mother so much. It had been years since she had asked about the details of the day they found her; she just wanted to look and see if she was forgetting anything important they had told her. Talking to Jet about it had reopened some of the old wounds and Linnea hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

She reached in and gently picked up the book. She felt like a criminal but the decision was made. Holding it to her heart, she closed the cabinet door and then crept across the room, sidestepping around her sisters. She very slowly opened the door and slid out, quickly closing it behind her to keep the cold air from entering the house.