The Valley of Amazement (41 page)

Flora looked up at them and said in English, “Go away.” Again, the women were stunned. Little Flora had the powers of a goblin. The older woman nudged the younger one.

“Flora,” Minerva said weakly, and took a step toward us. Little Flora eyed her with suspicion.

“Don’t you dare come near my child,” I said. “You frighten her.”

“We have proof that you are not the mother of this child,” the lawyer said in his laconic voice. He drew out two pieces of paper. “This is the birth certificate of Minerva Lamp Ivory.” He handed it to me and I let it fall to the ground. “And this is Minerva Lamp Ivory.” He gestured toward blank-eyed Minerva and then retrieved the paper.

The older woman broke in: “You will find my name recorded there as Minerva’s mother. Mildred Racine Lamp.” She smiled. “There is no question that I am not your mother.”

“I am glad to hear it, Mrs. Lamp.” I received the reaction I intended.

Mr. Tillman pulled out another piece of paper. “This is the birth certificate for Flora Violet Ivory.” I refused to look at it. “The father is Bosson Edward Ivory III. The recorded name of the mother is Minerva Lamp Ivory. I think you have seen this document before. We received it from the American Consulate.”

I spoke directly to Minerva. She was the weak one. “Do you claim you gave birth to my daughter while you were in New York? Did she spill from your womb? By what religious miracle?”

Minerva started to speak and her mother said that the lawyer should speak for her. “We are referring to the legal record, not biology,” Tillman said. “Do you dispute that the names on the documents were not the recorded ones. If so, that will be the assertion you will have to defend in the American Court in Shanghai.”

“What you assert to do is to steal my child.” I saw that Mrs. Lamp was wearing a necklace with a small silver cross. “That is evil condemned by God.”

“Who are you to accuse us of evil?” Mrs. Lamp said. “You stole Minerva’s name to steal Edward’s money. Minerva Ivory—it’s on Edward’s passport, the birth certificate, and the bank account. Minerva Ivory, wife of Bosson Edward Ivory III. We have the marriage certificate. You were his half-Chinese mistress—a woman who lured him to become his concubine. That’s the word you use here, isn’t it?”

“An informal relationship,” Tillman said, “does not confer legal rights to money. All rights belong to the person of record.”

I met him with an uneven voice: “Edward wrote a letter. It is in his handwriting and states that it is his dying wish that money be provided for his daughter, Flora Ivory, and he asked that the mother of his child be the signatory. I am the mother of this child. You cannot use legal hocus pocus to change that.” I was back on confident ground.

“We examined the letter at the offices of Massey and Massey. Mr. Douglas provided it when this became a case of fraud, which had unknowingly involved him. The letter does not give any name, except Flora’s.”

“You’ve lived quite lavishly on Edward and Minerva’s money,” Mrs. Lamp said. “A grand house.” She swept her hand across in an arc. “And with servants and an expensive car that belonged to Edward Ivory, the property of his widow, Minerva Ivory—the true one.”

”This house belongs to my father, Lu Shing.”

“We’ve never heard of any Lu Shing.”

“You know him as Shing Lu. You had his name backward.”

Tillman gave a slight nod to Mrs. Lamp and Minerva. “It’s the Chinese custom with names that the family name comes first.” They were chagrined to learn I was right.

At last, I had gained some ground. “He gave me use of the house for as long as I desire,” I continued. “And I will also inherit the house. I have it in writing.” The letter, where was it? Edward said he put Lu Shing’s two letters where no one would find it. Where?

“Chinese daughters of concubines are not in the line of succession of property in China,” Tillman said. “Inheritance by males is preemptor.”

“We have both a legal right and moral obligation,” Mrs. Lamp said. “Flora deserves to be raised to have dignity, respect, legitimacy, and an education—and not one provided by a prostitute. If you love her, how can you selfishly let her remain with you?”

Tillman cut her off. “We must finish with other matters first.” He had shown part of his hand—that there were other matters. He was following a sequence of legal traps.

“If a letter executed by Mr. Lu Shing exists, produce it. Does he acknowledge you are his daughter, legal or illegitimate? We found no record of your birth with either the American Consulate or various Chinese offices of records. It is difficult for you to make legal claims when you have no proof that you exist.” Mrs. Lamp laughed.

I was furious. I did have a birth certificate, the one my mother said had been stolen from her desk. She had recorded it under the name of someone she had married when I was born, a name that sounded like “Tanner.” It had been hard to make out when I listened from Boulevard. And Lu Shing’s letter—I struggled to remember what the letter had said exactly. My proof lay in shreds of memory.

“Another point the court will consider: It was Edward Ivory who had a strong prior relationship with Mr. Lu Shing. He has known the Ivory family for over twenty years. He lived with them for a number of years as their protégé. They exchanged letters of friendship. Mr. Lu Shing offered Mr. Ivory’s son, Edward, a place to live in Shanghai on that basis. There are letters attesting to that as well.”

“You can ask Mr. Lu Shing directly,” I said. “Speak to him. I have the telephone number of his company office.” I was counting on Lu Shing’s remorse to save the day.

“We did contact Mr. Lu’s company offices,” Tillman said. “Mr. Lu Shing no longer owns the company. It was taken over by a Japanese enterprise two months ago. Mr. Lu Shing was bankrupt and left the country. His last communication to his former manager was from the United States.”

“Tell her that we know what she did for a living,” Mrs. Lamp said.

“We learned that you were engaged in the profession of courtesan. That is not illegal in the International Settlement, as you know. We have no legal charges. However, we would call into question your moral suitability, as well as the environment Flora would be forced to live in, if you were to make an argument to keep her.”

Magic Gourd was shouting that I should call the police and kick the hooligans out on their foreign asses.

“Be reasonable, Miss Minturn,” Tillman said. He even knew my name. “The Ivory family has made a generous offer. They will drop all charges and require no repayment of money you took from the bank account if you relinquish Flora today. You will soon have no home or money. You have no legal argument to fight these charges. You would lose and go to prison for theft. The Ivory family would then be given Flora. If you tried to run away with her, you would be charged with the kidnapping of a child who legally belongs to the Ivory family. Police officers are already outside the gate. However, if you relinquish her today, you will be doing the best by her. She will have a life of privilege in the United States. She will have legitimacy, a chance at a proper life with an upstanding family.”

Magic Gourd babbled on about kicking the intruders out. She did not know yet the devastation that awaited Little Flora and me. “I might be reconciled in my heart that what you say is the best. But I ask myself, how can I let my child go to the very people Edward despised? He came here, to China, to escape you and your soullessness. You, Minerva, tricked Edward into marrying you by claiming you were pregnant—all this to gain the money and prestige of the Ivory family. Your mother told you to feign a miscarriage. You both plotted and manipulated and lied and you led Edward into doing what was right for you and the coming child. He wanted to be honorable and good, and when you told him you had made up the whole thing, you made a mockery of his goodness. You repulsed him in all ways. Yet you schemed to have him return to you. He never would have touched you.”

Mr. Tillman glanced at the two women. Minerva was shocked. Mrs. Lamp said in the hurried tone of someone trying to stamp out the truth: “These are lies and we won’t hear any more of it. Minerva, don’t listen. Take Flora so we can leave.” Minerva was frozen, and her lower lip was trembling.

“You know that what I’m saying is true. He left you and his mother and father because he felt gutted by your
selfishness, your manipulations. You want to steal Flora away from me, and it proves that you are all that he hated. You have your documents and certificates with your names and hateful facts. But those are words and the rest is false. Edward would never have wanted his daughter to live with the very people whom he loathed and left. He and I made this child out of love for each other. You want to cover her with your web, and spin your lies around her until you suffocate her soul. I won’t give her to you. You can arrest me and throw me in prison. But I will never willingly give her to you.”

I could not bear to look at them, knowing that they would have Little Flora soon. I hugged Flora closer to me, feeling the full weight of her. She buried her face into my shoulder. And then I ran. Magic Gourd took off with me. I heard Mrs. Lamp shout. Tillman said, “Let them. The policemen will get her.”

Little Flora whimpered, “I’m scared.” I said in a cracked voice, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.” I ran toward the back gate and heard shouts to send the men to that side. I knew that escape was hopeless. Where would I go? Where could I hide? But I would fight for her as long as I could.

And then I reached the gate and ran through. Two Sikh policemen grabbed my shoulders and Little Flora shrieked as her hands slipped away from my neck, as her body rose up and out of my arms. Her eyes were fastened on mine.

The policeman who took her walked away briskly and another man held me. I could no longer see her face. But I heard her sob: “No! Let me go! Mama! Mama!” I called back: “Little Flora! Little Flora!”—crying out her name long after she was gone.

I don’t know how long I stood there before I allowed Magic Gourd to lead me away. I was confused and I could only think that I should wait. She took me back to the house and I went to Little Flora’s room. I had the crazy hope that Little Ram would rescue her and put her safely in my arms. The room was silent and airless without her. Magic Gourd came in, breathing hard. Little Ram said he saw Mrs. Lamp and Minerva get into a black car and drive up Nanking Road. A police officer was guarding Edward’s car. So they ran after the black car until they could no longer see it. Magic Gourd bit her lips and cried as she walked around Little Flora’s room. She found a silver bracelet she had given Little Flora when she was born. It was supposed to lock her to the earth. “I should have made her wear it.”

Only a short while ago, Little Flora had lain with her head in my lap and I had been stroking her hair. Mrs. Lamp and Minerva had never looked at Little Flora with motherly eyes. To them, Little Flora was nothing more than a legal document. I had been so naive to not have realized the danger. She was Edward’s daughter, his only child. And Edward had been the Ivorys’ only child, their beloved son who could do no wrong. Little Flora was now the legitimate daughter of Edward and Minerva, and the heiress of the Ivory family estate, which Minerva would help her spend. On the Ivory family tree, Little Flora would claim her place and so would the false mother.

I went to Edward’s room and closed the door. I railed against the American laws, the deaf god, blind fate, and the cruelty of humans. I asked Edward to tell me those monsters would not damage Little Flora’s heart. I walked around the room beseeching him, as if he were God and knew all things and could make promises and decrees. Don’t let Little Flora lose her curiosity. Don’t let Minerva dull her mind. Strike down dead Mrs. Lamp. Bring Little Flora back to me now. Let me find her. Tell me how.

I ran my hand over the soft bristles of a shaving brush that had once swirled around Edward’s jaw each day. I used to watch him. How could he be gone, while his shaving brush remained? I picked up Edward’s gold pocket watch on its heavy chain. I found cuff links that he had tucked into a pocket of a waistcoat. He had been fastidious and negligent at the same time.

I wondered which of my habits Little Flora would have had, if she had remained with me. Through what kaleidoscope of wonder would she have viewed the world? Had she inherited Edward’s conscience, his humility and humor, his expressions of deeper, wider love? I had a gnawing need to know who she would be ten years from now. Let her be curious, let her be strong-willed. If I could give her anything she could keep, let it be the knowledge that she is loved, so that she would have the ability to love as well.

I placed her photograph next to Edward’s and stared at her face. And then I saw in her photograph that she was wearing the heart-shaped locket Edward and I had bought soon after she was born. Inside were tiny photographs of Edward and me. I had had the locket sealed so that when Little Flora wore it, our three hearts would always be together, never broken. Little Flora loved that locket and would scream if anyone tried to take it off. I hoped she would scream and lash out at her false mother.

I kissed Edward’s face in the photograph and thanked him for his love and for Little Flora. I kissed Little Flora’s face in the photograph and thanked her for showing me how deeply and freely I could love. I recited to her the words of Whitman that Edward quoted, the pledge that had enabled him to leave his family and find himself: “Resist much, obey little.”

W
E RECEIVED A
letter of eviction a few days later, no doubt hastened by the Ivory family’s thorough plan to dig me up like a weed and be rid of me. A representative from the Ivory Shipping Company confiscated the car. Someone from the Japanese company made a list of all the belongings of the house. When they tried to claim the paintings by Lu Shing that Magic Gourd wanted to keep, she pointed to the
dedication on the back of each that showed it had been given to my mother.

I found positions for the amah, Little Ram, and Bright through the help of a kind woman at the American Club, who had recommended them as servants to recent arrivals from San Francisco. Magic Gourd and I brought out everything of value we owned: my jewelry, the dresses, the carvings, whatever we could sell, and we made a list of the order in which we would part with them. I would not let go of Little Flora’s and Edward’s belongings. I would never have the heart to sell them, but I could not leave them behind for someone else to sell or throw away. “When the time comes,” Magic Gourd said, “I will find a use for them and you will never know.”