“Jade is Bao Yu in English,” Lily explained.
Blossom fed the squirming infant. Lily watched as her helper dipped her finger in milk repeatedly and placed it in Jade’s little pink mouth. The infant sucked on the finger greedily until she sighed and went to sleep.
Satisfied, Lily did her illusion trick. With a wave of her hand, tiny Jade became an ordinary shopping bag full of clothes, and just in time. The bus driver, gnawing on a toothpick, returned. A few minutes later, the tour guide leading the rest of the passengers followed.
With little Jade between them, the two women settled back in their seats and continued the ride to their new home. Lily would do away with their stolen disguises, and no one from the mainland would ever come looking for them.
HONG KONG, TWELVE YEARS LATER . . .
The pink-faced monk in his billowing, saffron robe glided down the crowded sidewalk with great serenity. He moved along slowly, patiently in the heaving sea of chaos, taxis flashing past, neon signs everywhere, clouds of bus exhaust, people hurrying, scurrying, buying, selling, calling out. He wore tiny bells on his sandals to announce his presence, but no one could hear their trills amid the roar of the Hong Kong streets.
He carried a canvas bag slung over one shoulder, containing candles, incense and a small, ivory statue of Ganesh, the boy god with his elephant head, the remover of obstacles — to protect him from destruction, to provide him with limitless compassion and to preserve the tranquility of his heart.
Blossom hurtled into him at full speed, tearing down the sidewalk as if she had been fired from the barrel of a gun.
He stumbled, dropped the umbrella, almost went sprawling, and righted himself.
Blossom was so mortified that she started to cry. She clumsily scooped up the umbrella, bowed deeply, babbled apologies.
“Oh, Sir,” she said anxiously, “Oh righteous Sir . . . "
The monk merely smiled at her, took the umbrella and made a sign of blessing.
Blossom galloped down the sidewalk, bumping into people, drawing angry looks, startled glances and curses in several dialects.
The poor woman, the monk muttered to himself, resuming his unhurried glide. What has made that soul so fearful?
Blossom darted into an alley lined with shops, stalls and beer stands — and burst into the dress shop almost colliding with Lily.
“Lily! Have you seen the newspaper? It’s all over the news. Several women have disappeared in our neighborhood. One woman was seen with her daughter, but only the daughter surfaced later in a daze, and didn’t know what happened,” Blossom said breathlessly.
“Be careful, you clumsy fool!” Lily said, balancing a mannequin in the store’s display window. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“It’s not safe for us here. We have to think of Jade. The police are going door to door asking our neighbors if they have seen anything suspicious. They’ll be here any minute now,” Blossom said, nervously peering outside.
“Don’t worry, it will be fine. We’ll say we didn’t see anything, and even if any these women came in the shop, they walked out of here safe and sound. Anybody around here can tell the police that,” Lily said, confidently. “But you may be right. Perhaps it would be safer for us to move to another place.”
She signaled with a raised eyebrow for Blossom to be quiet as Jade entered the shop. "Why are you home early from school?" Lily said.
Jade was beaming, as any child would who had been given a holiday. She wore a navy blue sailor suit dress with a white collar. She was short for a 12-year-old, with a round face, a wide smile, and dark, merry eyes. Her thick, coal black hair was pulled back straight and adorned with colorful pins on the sides.
“It's because of what's been happening to the women around here. We were told to go straight home, and be with our mothers,” Jade said.
“That is the reason why we are going to move. This is not a safe place for a woman like me with a daughter,” Lily said, patting Jade on the head. It was her way of greeting the child; the only way she knew how to show her affection.
Lily was glad her assistant took over the parenting duties. It was Blossom that Jade went running to when she needed help with simple motherly things, but Lily took over, and none too gently, with the more important duties like homework, molding the child's personality and teaching her to trust no one, especially men.
She had more important plans for her daughter.
Her daughter was at an age when boys started noticing her. Lily remembered her coming home one day from school and saying, “Mama, there's a boy in school who’s always teasing me.”
“And what did you do?” Lily asked.
“Well, I sort of like him, so I didn't mind.”
Lily blew up. She made Jade stay home from school until she drilled the importance of staying away from boys into her daughter's head. A few days later, she paid the boy a visit at school. He never teased Jade again, and avoided any contact with her.
“Where are we moving to? Kowloon?” Jade asked, interrupting her mother's thoughts.
“No, we are going to move to another country,” Lily said, reaching for a map of Asia.
She unfolded the map, and spread it on the table, studying it intensely.
“This is where we will go,” she said, pointing her finger at the map of the Philippines. Lily had made up her mind. She set her sights on Binondo, Manila's Chinatown.
1
San Francisco Bay Blues
BANG! The oak door of the Edwardian condo slammed loudly. Angry footsteps clomped up the stairs. The girl’s ponytail swished furiously as if to announce that she was in no mood to be messed with.
She threw her lunch box and backpack on the floor, kicked off her slip-ons and sent one flying in the air. Her almond-shaped eyes were flashing dangerous daggers like the women in her mother’s family when they get riled; her lanky frame tense and rigid.
“Someone had a really bad last day at school. I’m amazed you didn’t turn the door to kindling,” a quiet female voice said behind her.
“Oh. Hi Mom. Hi Dad,” Sammy looked down at the floor, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said, kissing her parents. She retrieved the thrown shoe and placed it neatly beside its partner.
Samantha Plum, 10-years old, resident of Bush Street in the Pacific Heights area in the city of San Francisco, California, was indeed having a bad day
“So, Sammy, I take it the excursion did not go well,” Jack Plum said, hugging her. Sammy relaxed in her father’s bear hug.
“Let’s go in the kitchen, Sweetie,” Yvonne Plum said. “We have something to tell you that will make you feel better, but you obviously need to tell us something first.”
They followed Yvonne to her spotless kitchen. The whole condo smelled of lemon-scented Lysol — Yvonne always cleaned and set things right with a passion.
Jack was more easy-going. His wife forbade him to help around the house afraid he might not do it right. He’d given up trying to follow Yvonne’s way of getting things done. He was content to retreat in the quiet of his study, to read or work on his laptop for as long as it took his wife to finish her household chores.
Sammy loved hanging out in the kitchen with her mother; watching and sometimes helping Yvonne prepare meals. One of her many favorite things was the feel of the hardwood floor on her bare feet, sliding on the gleaming surface in her bunny slippers from her bedroom to the kitchen; sitting on the bench of their