A Bride for Wen Hui Read online

  But she had no intention of offering herself a third time.

  “Does this Pastor Jones expect us?” she asked.

  “No, but he’ll not turn us away.”

  She nodded again, taking in the busy street the pastor’s residence. Chinatown bore a resemblance to her homeland and at the same time didn’t. Many Chinese men, mostly poor men wandered up and down the streets, talking in a harsh language that hurt her ears. Places that served food abounded, a concept she wasn’t used to, having had all her meals prepared at her home for the entirety of her life. Shops where Chinese men cleaned garments, mended an assortment of things she couldn’t name and other places lined the street.

  Wen Hui grabbed her arm and she thrilled at his touch though she gave nothing away. He led her up the stairs and to the rickety wooden door. No sooner did he knock than the door opened and a tall White man with a wrinkled face and gray hair opened it.

  “Henry!” the man said. She knew that word. It was Wen Hui’s American name.

  He spoke in the same language that she’s heard but she understood nothing he said. Wen Hui answered back in the same way, his words a bit faultier but the man seemed to understand as he eyes landed on her. They were an odd bluish color but held warmth within their depths.

  “Welcome to my home and my church,” Pastor Jones answered fluently in her language. Yuping blinked and then bowed respectfully in greeting.

  Pastor Jones ushered them in. Yuping had an impression of small narrow halls, dark colors, and doors. As she followed behind Wen Hui and Pastor Jones, she took in more of surroundings. An open door showed a great big room with long seats stretched out. A small stand was at the front and behind the stand, a painting of a White man stretched out on a T with nails protruding from his hands and feet. He looked to be in agony.

  “Come, Henry’s wife,” Pastor Jones said to her, drawing her attention from the painting.

  Yuping saw that they had stopped at a small room. Wen Hui waited for her and she came to her, keeping her head down.

  They entered the room, which had a similar feel as her father’s study but lacked the beauty of it. Everything seemed cramped and cluttered.

  “My wife is visiting one of the sick today or she would have been here as well.” Pastor Jones glanced at her again. His smile bright. She didn’t know why he kept doing that. She didn’t know him.

  “Pastor Jones, have you seen my business associate, Peng—er, John Peng?” Wen Hui corrected.

  A cloud came over the pastor’s eyes. “I have Wen Hui and what I have to tell is not going to be good.”

  “What is it?”

  “John has been captured by the authorities.”

  Wen Hui started by her side. “What happened?”

  “You told me once that he had two wives and had sent you to bring a third.” The pastor’s eyes shifted to Yuping. Her cheeks reddened.

  “That’s correct.”

  “The man lied, Henry. He’s not even married. He’s been smuggling girls from China here. His ‘wives’ that he sends for are usually women of status. Women who have connections with higher levels of power. These girls would be sent for, thinking

  they were marrying a man of wealth. Instead, once here, he’d either uses them himself or he’d plant them in one of the brothels, never to be seen again.”

  The blood drained from Yuping. Wen Hui looked as if he’d been hit by a cannon.

  “He said he is an exporter of goods. That he has connection with China’s Imperial throne.”

  “Lies, every single one.”

  Wen Hui’s mouth opened and closed. “But what about my shipment of silk to Great Britain?”

  “Burned or seized by the authorities.”

  Yuping saw the devastation sweeping over Wen Hui. He’d told her on one of their infrequent conversation over the past week, his true state of means. He’d planned to have the money to bring her to a life of ease.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  Horror came over his features as his gaze flicked over her. Without saying a word, she knew what he thinking. That he made a mistake that affected her. That destiny—or God—had failed them in some way.

  Yuping felt something else grow within her. A latent feeling of excitement, of adventure. Though her husband had nothing to give her, far from what her mother and her father had expected, she had finally left the shackles of duty and womanhood she grown up believing was her destiny. It had been said, “A woman’s duty is not to control or take charge.”

  No longer, her mind whispered. You’re more than a woman. Finally, more than a woman.

  “You’re welcome to say with us, Henry,” Pastor Jones was saying, bringing her thoughts back to the conversation. “Mrs. Jones would love to have you back with us for a while.” He then turned to her. “My wife doesn’t speak Chinese and you don’t speak English. Maybe you can both learn together.”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes down lest. She had no idea what the future held and that was all right. She would be free to discover it on her own.

  With Wen Hui by her side.

  Wen Hui waited for Yuping’s hatred, for her recriminations. He waited to see her sorrow at being cast into a life of poverty when she never experienced it before in her life.

  But it never came.

  For a month as they stayed with Pastor Jones, she never gave any sign of regret. When he suggested writing to her father to provide passage for her voyage back home, she vehemently told him not to. “I am your wife and your responsibility. It is my duty to stay by your side.”

  Why did he feel as if she were saying one thing but meaning another? That there was almost a note of glee in her voice as she used the analects for women to state her case. For himself, he found himself again doing drudgery work—cleaning, fixing, mending, and other menial tasks. Yuping began to learn a little of English from Mrs. Jones. In fact, the two women had gotten on rather well. When not learning English, she had started to make embroidery pieces, using the fine techniques she’d learned as a child. When Mrs. Jones saw one, she’d made much noise about it and suggested that Yuping begin to sell them. They were unique enough to cause interest and soon, Yuping began to contribute to their meager savings.

  It was not the life he envisioned for them. He wanted his pearl living a life of ease but instead, she worked to make her embroidery as well as take on suitable jobs that would fit her. He wanted to restrict her actions, demand she stay and make the small room above the church home.

  But he couldn’t. They needed every cent they got and no amount of manly duty could refute that he needed her help.

  As punishment, he refused to touch her though it was hard when they shared the same bed. There were times her body would press against him and it would take every ounce of self-will to prevent from taking her. She never seemed bothered by the closeness as he did. Never offered to give herself to him.

  In that month, he began to appreciate her in small ways. The way she asked after his day if he happened to come in enough time to enjoy dinner with Pastor Jones and his wife. The way she lay his clothes out for the next day. How she listened to him express his worry and never once blamed him. The way she worked hard to learn English or help with Mrs. Jones in the church.

  He’d already loved her when she was the unattainable woman of his dreams. Now, he felt his love deepen because he had learned to depend on her. They had no wealth, no relatives to glean assistance. They only had each other.

  In October, he had come back to Pastor Jones’s home from his day’s work when he interrupted the pastor sharing a passionate kiss with Mrs. Jones. Discomfited, he hurried to go the other way and up the stairs to his room when he heard Pastor Jones say, “Forty years later and I still have to ask Mary, where would I be without you? Thank God for you.”

  For some reason, the words refused to leave his mind. And as he went up the stairs, he pondered the words. Where would he be without Yuping? He paused on the steps. Alone in a cruel world. Alone in the cold, shut awa
y from the warmth of spirit. Whenever he came home, she was there, a steady firm rock he could depend on. He’d always been in love with her but now, it wasn’t of love of fantasy, and dreams. That love would not have survived hardships as they faced. This love was stronger because it was love born of being the recipient of a woman who loved and loved well. Who would fight by his side as she did now. Who would not abandon him.

  His heart thudded in his chest. So, this was love, real love. The kind that he hoped would be the same as Pastor Jones and his wife’s affections. The kind where in forty years, he’d wonder the same thing.

  “Where would I be without her?” he said out loud. “Lost. Simply lost. But never, ever with her.”

  A week later, Yuping wasn’t sure what woke her but she opened her eyes in the semi-darkness and listened.

  She couldn’t feel her husband by her side or hear Wen Hui breathe.

  Jerking up from the bed, her heart in her throat, she gazed around the room and saw Wen Hui standing in the corner, his silhouette being illuminated by a small candle.

  “What is wrong?” Had something happened?

  “Nothing is wrong, chi tzh.” His voice had a small note of amusement in it. “I was about to wake you but I should know you’d wake up anyway.”

  He brought the candle over to the bed and held it up, letting the light cast over his face. She squirmed a bit, seeing how intent his eyes were upon her, tracing over her features in the dim light as etching them with ink.

  “You’re very beautiful, my wife. Every time I look at you, you seem to become even more lovelier.”

  He smiled and she was transfixed by it. How much she wanted him to take her. It was becoming difficult to feign disinterest although she decided to stick to the course. Mary had told her sometimes men had to be caught up in their own traps before they learned anything.

  “Is that why you woke me up, so you can tell me how beautiful I am?”

  “No, my wife. I woke you up so I could take you…” he let his voice trail off.

  If she had been sleepy, then she certainly wasn’t now. “Take me?” she whispered, her body already awakening to long dormant desires.

  “On a picnic,” he added. “Today is Sunday, the one day we have and I would like to enjoy it with you.”

  She swallowed the disappointment and gave a wobbly smile. She caught a suspicious gleam in his eyes, as if he were suppressing a laugh. “If that is what you’d like. When do you want to leave?”

  “Now,” he said.

  Yuping blinked. “Now?”

  “Yes. One of Pastor Jones’s parishioners was kind enough to let us picnic on their grounds. I hear it is lovely and has a small pond within it.”

  Upon hearing the description, she felt a bit of homesickness take over her. “Like home.”

  “Yes, like home. You haven’t attempted the capture the dawn ever since we came to America. Maybe today you will.”

  “Perhaps. What do we tell Pastor Jones and Mary?”

  “They’ll be gone today visiting another church outside the city so we will leave them a note.”

  It was as he said and soon, carrying a basket that her husband had prepared the night before, they got into the wagon and horse Pastor Jones kept for their use, Yuping and Wen Hui were on their way.

  Unlike the tranquility of the near dawn in her father’s garden, the coarse cries of fishmongers, restaurant owners, shopkeepers, and prostitutes along with their clientele cried out to each other like a flock of cantankerous birds, to either begin or end their day.

  But Wen Hui kept going, leaving Chinatown behind and going further out of the district. They soon came to a neighborhood of tall, expansive homes, with manicured and well-trimmed gardens. It carried a false tone to it that Yuping couldn’t help but notice. Her father’s house and garden worked to blend with nature while these intruded upon it.

  Soon, they came to a large house with a winding road that led to it’s interior. Along this road, Wen Hui went down. The house looked intimidating so she was glad when they passed although all the windows gave the impression of being watchful eyes.

  They went off the road, coming to a grassy meadow that had a while, slightly untamed look to it that reassured her in a strange way. They went one until they came to a building not dissimilar from her father’s ting. It sat on the edge of the pond, overlooking the water.

  Yuping felt as if she’d come home.

  “The owner said this is the best place to see the dawn,” he told her as he helped her from the wagon. Taking her hand, he led her across the tall grass until they came a few feet from the edge of the pond. Yuping stood for a moment, basking in the nature around. The brisk wind, the grass under her lotus feet, the smell of the pond.

  “Hello, my friend,” she said aloud.

  “There’s something I want to tell you, my wife.” Wen Hui said.

  She turned to him and waited.

  “ Wǒ ài nǐ.”

  I love you. Her eyes widened. “Shao ye?” she asked, confused and excited at the same time.

  He came toward her and cupped her face in his hand. “I brought you here because I want to capture the dawn with you. Not with words but with hands and lips. With our bodies caressed by the light of sun. You and me, wrapped in each other.”

  “Husband!” A hot flush stained her cheeks but her inner fire started to awake.

  “I heard Pastor Jones say to his wife that he didn’t know where he would be without her. I thought of you. You are my heart, Li Yuping. Without you I am dead.

  “Twice before you offered yourself to me. Now, I offer myself to you. Not just my body, but my heart, and my vow that to you and you alone, I will be true. That before God, you will forever be my only wife. My bride.”

  She cried, the tears tricking down her cheeks. He kissed them away. “Wǒ ài nǐ” she replied. “Wǒ ài nǐ. Wǒ ài nǐ.”

  The words repeated over and over again as Wen Hui lowered her onto the soft grass just the first blush of dawn began to brighten the sky.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Parker J. Cole is an author, speaker, and radio show host with a fanatical obsession with the Lord, Star Trek, K-dramas, anime, romance books, old movies, speculative fiction, and knitting. An off and on recovering Mountain Dew and marshmallow addict, she writes to fill the void the sugar left behind.

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  WORKS BY PARKER J COLE

  Edgy Christian Romance Novels

  The Sins of the Flesh Series:

  Many Strange Women (Book 1)

  The Other Man (Book 2)

  Vengeful Vows (Book 3)

  Sweet Inspirational Novels

  Michigan Sweet Romance Series:

  The Cure

  Time to Say Goodbye

  Contemporary Romance

  Java Cupid Series

  Java Blend

  Sweet Historical Romance Novels

  Silverpines Series:

  Wanted: Man of Honor

  Wanted: Stonemason

  Wanted: Fire Chief

  Lantern in the Window Series:

  Lantern of Hope

  Lantern of Charity

  The Proxy Bride Series

  A Bride for Sterling

  A Bride for Valentin

  A Bride for Wen Hui

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series

  An Agent for Arielle

  An Agent for Brielle

  Short Story Collection

  Wish Upon a Strawberry Shortcake

  Thriller Novel

  Dark Cherub

  Sci-fi Fantasy Romance Series

  Crowns and Worlds

  The H
ouse of Haddaway

  Anthology Works

  Birds of Passage Anthology: April and Mr. Grim

  Realms of Our Own: Godforsaken

  WRITING AS PARKER PAYNE

  Ascent of the Gem Bearers Series

  The Druid’s Spear (Book One) with Lee Thornton III