Mrs. Merriweather cleared her throat, heralding their return, rushing into the room like a locomotive and plunking herself down next to Elizabeth.
Chen followed, his footsteps silent on the parquet floor. She catalogued the little things about the monk. Despite his stoic nature and impassive exterior, he seemed to be knowledgeable of everything and everyone around him, like an old soul. He held Zachary’s gaze, slanting his head to the older woman.
Zach edged to the front of his seat. “Mrs. Merriweather, Chen is an expert in Chinese medicine. He has concerns about your health.”
Her jaw dropped in open surprise. “By just looking at me?”
“With your permission, may he examine your forearm? He needs to feel your pulses to make a diagnosis,” said Zachary.
Perplexed, Mrs. Merriweather looked at all of them, and then took off her clinking gold bracelets, extending her forearm. With great care, Chen knelt, smoothed her sleeve back, then lightly pressed his fingertips, lifting and then pressing. After much concentration, he lifted his head.
“What have you determined?” She twisted her clinking bracelets to her wrists.
Chen spoke. “Do you experience fatigue? Insomnia? Problems with digestion?”
“Why, yes, to all three. How did you know?”
“The nature of your energy or Qi is felt through the force of your pulse. Your pulse is thready. You have a blood deficiency.”
“Blood deficiency? What do I do? My doctors have provided all sorts of tonics. Nothing works except the extraordinary bills they send me.”
“I can obtain herbals to repair the problem.”
Gratitude choked her. “For someone who has not gone to medical school, you are a gold mine of erudition. By all means. I’ll pay you anything you ask for if you can cure me.”
Chen shook his head. “You have provided me charity of heart and hospitality.”
Mrs. Merriweather clapped her hands together. “You are extraordinary, Mr. Chen. You are welcome anytime.”
Chapter Thirteen
The orphans sat enraptured as Zachary regaled them with stories of the west and working on the railroads. He nodded to Chen to take over. The Chinaman thrilled the children performing magic tricks, taking a coin from behind one boy’s ear, and then letting it vanish in his hand. The children clapped. “My turn! My turn!”
“I thank you for your input. Your valuable experiences will enlighten them on the growth of this country,” Elizabeth said, coming up alongside him. Her voice sounded like heaven flowing down to earth and taking him to a lovely place where all worries faded away. She had been behind him, observing from the sidelines. He had been aware of her every breath. He’d been aware of her softness and sweetness. Aware of her moving a delicate hand to smooth an errant strand of gold-silk hair, sun-kissed in tones.
“I had a few minutes to spare, and I enjoy being with the children.”
“Chen is so good with them,” she said. She was a goddess—untouchable, and he, a mere pauper.
Her cheerfulness made him regard the stark contrasts of her. Some she disclosed, others she hid. Both contrasts he understood, inside and out.
Despite her affluence, she was accountable, compassionate and displayed a solid work ethic as seen with the care for her daughter and the orphans. In social gatherings her ability to run circles around her peers with easy witty banter caused him to admire her. Rising above societal dictates is what made Elizabeth unique and validated, the lively, loving, compassionate and humble woman, emerged a far cry from the selfish, condescending arrogance of her contemporaries.
“I’m so thankful that both of you found time out of your busy schedules,” she said, her voice like a caress of a rose petal against his ear.
His shoulder muscles tightened, and his coat was suddenly too tight. Yet underneath, he’d glimpsed her vulnerabilities and how she viewed herself. She was skeptical, cynical and exceptional at hiding her true feelings, especially to her mother, sister and peer group who would use it as ammunition to hurt, mock or scorn her. For a lifetime, she had been trapped in an abusive environment forced to face the formidable task of adaptation and self-protective habits. Regardless of her brazen, outward confidence, on the inside, she was a quivering mass of insecurities.
The fact that she confided in him about her feelings said a lot to him. Friendship was built on two things: trust and respect. She was the evening star, the fairest of all stars.
Caroline appeared. The daintiest little girl he’d ever seen, a lithe figure whose every attitude was instinct with inborn grace and…mischief. For one moment, her violet eyes with long, curving lashes studied him, revealing an expression of a child’s trustfulness and the gentleness of a fawn. Then her mercurial expression changed abruptly; a confusing myriad of emotionsthat made it impossible to understand. Finally, making a conclusive determination, she granted him a wide smile like Queen Isabella giving three ships to Columbus for exploration.
She yanked on Elizabeth’s hand, guiding her to a pathetic seedling she had planted in a cup. Zachary followed Elizabeth with his gaze as she oohed and aahed over the wilted corpse of a plant. Mother and daughter. The way it was meant to be. An urge to protect them swept over him.
“You like her. You like her a lot.”
“Pardon me.” He glanced down to the red, curly, mop hair of Joseph who stood just beneath his chin. The boy’s feet were huge at his age. He’d grow to be a big man. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The boy’s stare roaredthick-witted, as if Zachary were the type to jump off a barn roof with an open umbrella.
