Generous Orchid - Chapters 5 and 6
When trouble is brewing
Have you ever longed for a friend?
I have.
As I look back at my own life, there are critical times when I longed for “Jesus with skin on.” Especially in times of crisis. Someone who understood. Someone who may not have all the right words, but was present. I’m grateful for those women who showed up, some who are still part of my closest community.
I believe that connection with other women can be our greatest gift, but it might also feel scary. In today’s chapters (yes, I’m sharing two chapters!) Sunsoo and Annabelle dare to hope for a friend.
Thank you for reading. Thank YOU for showing up and allowing me to write in a brand new way about faith, feelings, and relationships and how complex and beautiful that can be.
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Let’s get started with Chapters Five and Six of Generous Orchid, a sweeping historical novel of two women caught in a revolution and how they find each other.
Chapter Five - Generous Orchid
Zhang Shu Mei knelt to tend the fledgling shoots in her garden. Sunsoo lingered in her doorway, smiling at the swallowtail butterfly that flitted near her older neighbor. When the woman stood and removed her broad hat, she wiped her brow and their eyes met.
Heat flashed in Sunsoo’s cheeks. She could not abide the pity in the depths of that glance. If she were a goddess, Sunsoo might banish the sights and sounds from the night before that haunted her. She felt the grip of her husband’s hands on her shoulders, the tangle of sheets. Her robe ripping and her heart shattering.
“Good morning,” the neighbor called.
Sunsoo nodded.
“I saw Junhui depart with his father early this morning.”
Sunsoo blinked back a flood of threatening tears. Though Father Wu consented to their plan for Junhui to attend school, Zhenming had pulled their young son from his bed, demanding that he go to the fields. A flash of anger danced with the shame already heavy on Sunsoo’s heart.
Even in victory, her husband would not release his arrogance.
Suddenly the neighbor’s voice was close. Sunsoo whipped at the sound.
“Will you join me for tea? I have often longed to visit you, but. . .”.
Surely her cries reached the itching ears of neighbors. Sunsoo was humiliated that she could not respond to this kind invitation, but also unable to acknowledge the truth that lie between her and the compassionate woman now standing near.
“Maybe you do not want tea, or you’ve already had it this morning? Are you going to market this morning? If so, let’s go together,” the woman persisted.
When Sunsoo did not refuse her, the woman scattered to fetch her wheelbarrow. Soon they walked down dusty streets. The rusty wheelbarrow swayed from side to side, bumping over random holes. Her neighbor prattled as they walked. She talked about her grown daughters and grandchildren. She lamented that she didn’t have a fine son like Junhui. She reflected on the humid weather lingering after the rains, and the trees that dipped down to provide shade. As they approached the bustling market, they passed a man wearing a traditional white robe with a red sash around his middle. He gripped a rusty sword.
“The society,” the neighbor murmured.
“Who?” Sunsoo asked.
“Surely you know about them.” Her voice was low, like a river running over rocks.
“I do not.”
The older woman leaned close. “He is one of the Secret Society of the Harmonious Fists,” she said. “The movement is gaining strength in numbers. I’ve heard that it will be a revolution as bloody and violent as 1870.”
“Revolution? Surely not!”
As they stopped to haggle with the owner of an open stall to bargain for beans, Sunsoo glanced back. The man was gone. So they moved on, visiting one merchant after another. Once their items were tucked in the wheelbarrow, the pair turned toward home.
“Do you really believe there will be a revolution?” Sunsoo said, picking up the thread of conversation.
“It is rumored it is only a few men, but will soon become an army,” her neighbor replied once they were out of earshot of others. “The government encourages them secretly with gifts of money, while outwardly protesting.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“When a mute eats dumplings, he knows how many he has eaten.” She smiled at the saying. “My husband underestimates the quiet one lingering in the kitchen when he meets with his friends.”
Sunsoo took one handle of the wheelbarrow. “Let me help push. It is too heavy.”
“No,” she protested and glanced at Sunsoo’s wrists. “I am able.”
Sunsoo tugged at her sleeve to cover the bruises mottling her flesh. She felt shame rising as heat crept over her cheeks once again but was helpless to stop it.
The old woman tenderly changed the subject. “Have you heard about the teacher and his family arriving in Tientsin? Fang Gong Shuang says that he and his family will arrive within the week.”
“Fang Gong Shuang is usually correct.”
They both giggled.
“Do you plan to send Junhui to the school? Fang Gong Shuang said. . .”
Sunsoo smiled. “I do not know how our elder gets any work done with all the information she shares. I do not wish for my son to stay in the fields, so I hope she is correct.” It felt tenuous, sharing such a deep hope with her neighbor, a woman whom she knew only by sight before today.
“Your Junhui is intelligent,” the woman offered. “I have talked with him. He once offered to help me in the garden. I hope that all of your children are so blessed.”
Traitorous color crept back into her cheeks.
Her neighbor patted her on the arm. “If wind comes from an empty cave, it’s not without a reason. Perhaps your love for your husband, and his for you, must prosper before another child enters your womb.”
Sunsoo shrunk back at her words.
The woman touched her sleeve. “Please forgive me for intruding. I only mean to help.”
As they neared their homes, Sunsoo withdrew her basket from the wheelbarrow and turned toward home. Tears pooled and she willed them to stay where they were.
“Sunsoo? Come for tea. We’ll talk of lighter matters.”
“Junhui will be soon home.”
The woman held out her hand. Their fingers brushed. “Please forgive my boldness. I meant no harm. I also did not choose my husband. Yet I discovered within a marriage there exists the hope of healing. If he cannot love you in the right ways, perhaps your love for him will help him find his true self.”
The woman’s words felt like fire on her wounds. Beans spilled to the ground as Sunsoo stumbled toward her home, her full basket bumping against the bruises that ran up and down her flesh like purple orchids. She dumped the goods inside and buried any tiny stirrings of hope that had dared to push through her heart.
She longed for a friend. Yet if a friend wounded her more deeply than the scars already etched in her soul, it was better to have no friend at all. She let the tears fall as she lay fresh ginger and lotus roots, mung-bean sprouts, and chestnuts on the table. Her tears turned to anger. The neighbor with her kind face and gentle words offered advice, yet she had not walked in Sunsoo’s shoes.
Love had no place in Zhenming’s heart, nor in her own.
She fileted a fat fish with skill and sprinkled it generously with parsley, black vinegar, and garlic. She breathed in deeply, imagining the meal they would savor once it was steamed to perfection. As the fish cooked, she gently placed a handful of noodles into boiling water. Then she washed her hands and patted her face dry. Junhui would soon stumble through the doorway, tired and hungry. He would not find a weeping mother.
As she prepared the table, Sunsoo was reminded of the man in the market, his rusty sword at his side. She pleaded with the gods silently to keep chaos and revolution at bay. She was not unfamiliar with the havoc revolution produced in her country over the generations. Her father had regaled her with stories of the great Taiping rebellion. Millions died. It left a gaping wound that still lingered. She arched her back and stretched her cramped muscles. Her bruises hurt to the bone, but the fragrant odor of fish and vegetables and tender noodles made her mouth water. Perhaps after dinner, Junhui would read to Zhenming. Her proud husband might realize the folly of sending a future scholar into the damp paddies where he could catch cold, or even death.
She walked into Junhui’s tiny room. His books were carefully arranged by his bed. His meager treasures rested nearby, including the striped marble. She held it to the light and admired it. A spitting sound called from the brick and stone Kang stove and Sunsoo rushed to save the noodles. As she ran, the marble launched out of her hand and tunneled out of sight.
She quickly poured water over the noodles, grateful that they had not scorched. She knelt, fingers brushing just beyond the heavy bag of rice in the corner. She gripped the marble, spinning it toward her. A wisp of white fabric lie just behind the bag of rice. Like a magician’s trick, she tugged and the material emerged. She held it in her hands, and it stung as if she clutched hot coals.
It was a white Boxer’s uniform with a red sash.
Chapter Six - Generous Orchid
August 18, 1892
To: Clara Stiles, Covington, Kentucky
From: Annabelle Rhodes, Shanghai, China
My darling Mother, today we arrived at the port of Shanghai. The Captain was gracious to give this letter to his friend who is the Captain of the Pacific Mail Steamship. I am overjoyed to be able to transmit this missive to you through his care.
I miss you considerably.
