The party was making up to be a glorious success. Hop Sing surveyed the long tables set up there in the yard. Each was covered with an astounding variety of food and plenty of it. The paper lanterns of every color imaginable gave the dusk a pleasant glow as they swung from the overhead lines that stretched from the main house out across the yard to the barn on one side and the tall trees on the other. From inside the house, he could hear the musicians tuning up, their sound at first a cacophony of noise then settling into riffles and twirls of notes. And everywhere he looked, Hop Sing saw the guests were enjoying themselves. That, he thought, was important. And he puffed up a little at the thought that it was he who had done so much to make this night a success.

            With a satisfied smile, he turned to scurry back into the kitchen. He had left it just long enough to see that the punch bowls were full and that the platters were still heavy with all the good things he had prepared. Let the others play and party, he thought. He was still working! And the platter of cheese needed refilling!

            He entered the side door into his domain, distracted by the thoughts of success. It was there in his kitchen where he saw her first. She was a rather plain looking girl. No, woman, he corrected himself when he saw her face fully for the first time. Her hair, just about the color of old gold, was pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head. It gave her face a sharp pointed look to it. Her eyes, wide open in surprise at the sound of his entry, were blue but the blue of a stormy sky in summer.

            "What you need?" Hop Sing asked, then felt contrite at the harsh tone he had used for the girl jumped as though he had smacked her hand.

            She chewed on her lower lip and dropped her glance to the floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude but I spilled some punch on my cousin's dress and I was looking for some water to rinse the spot out." She spread the skirt of the sapphire blue dress wide to show him the long rivulet of red punch that marred it.

            "No, Hop Sing sorry. Not mean to holler at guest. Here let me help you." and he bowed slightly to the girl, gesturing towards the pump there in the corner of the kitchen. Quickly he took up a towel and dampened it then knelt before her to blot at the stain.

            "Please," she begged, "Let me try. I am such a klutz. You would think I could at least manage a glass of punch but, oh no, I have to go and spill it down my front like some silly schoolgirl. So, here give me that. At least I can clean up after myself. You have more than enough trouble keeping up with the other guests."

            Hop Sing looked up at her and smiled. There was something about her that spoke of honesty and forthrightness. Perhaps it was her blue eyes that did it. Unlike other women Hop Sing had dealt with over the years, this one seemed not to look through him but at him. He quickly returned his eyes to the skirt and the stain there. As he scrubbed at the now vanishing stain, he felt the warmth of her hand on his shoulder as she balanced herself next to him. He took a deep breath when he stood, the stain finally gone but replaced by a large damp area visible on the sapphire cotton. Was it from the lingering aromas in the kitchen or did she have the scent of allspice? He wasn't sure but he found it pleasing to his senses. Again, he looked into her eyes and found her gazing back at him. Ducking his head, he hid the blush coming over him for his thoughts were not proper. It was not permitted for him to look at a woman, any woman, that way.

            "You are wonderful!" she exclaimed, holding her now cleaned skirt out if front of her. She smiled and Hop Sing thought that her whole being was transformed by it. The plainness he had thought was there moments ago was gone. In its place was a woman of uncommon beauty, he thought. Again, he hid his face as he brushed past her.

            "Here, you stand in doorway. Hold skirt open and breeze dry quickly. Then you can go back to party and no one miss you!"

            She did as he asked and, standing in the kitchen doorway, she allowed the breeze to wash across her.

            "My name is Marie Bennett," she said as if that would explain everything to him. When he said nothing in reply, she continued. "My cousin is Meredith Sanders. She's Adam Cartwright's guest this evening." Again she waited for him to say something. He merely picked up a large knife and began to cut pieces of cheese off the large wheel of yellow in front of him. "I kind of feel like a third wheel, if you know what I mean. No date for the evening. I don't know anyone here and now I have ruined my cousin's second favorite party dress."

            "No," Hop Sing said then quickly returned his attention to the cheese.

            She shook her head as though clearing away cobwebs. "No what?"

            Hop Sing looked up, trying for a lack of discernible expression on his face. He wasn't sure if he had succeeded. "You know cousin." Then a moment later he added "And dress not ruined."

            "Well, I have you to thank for the dress not being ruined. Thank you," and she let her soft voice rise in a question.

            "Hop Sing," he said, intrigued by the sound of her voice and the idea that she would speak to him so easily. "I work here for family."

            "You work for the Cartwrights? All the time? It must be glorious! Such a beautiful home to live in! And just look at this kitchen! A girl could just die in this kitchen. Oh, there I go again! Spouting off nonsense! You would think that I would learn to keep my mouth shut but not me!"

            To her surprise, Hop Sing chuckled. "Glad you like kitchen. Hop Sing take pride in well-run kitchen. Now, excuse, please, must fill up cheese tray."

            When he returned, she was still there but now she was sitting on the tall stool he usually perched on.

            "You need something else?" he asked, his head forward and his black almond shaped eyes alight.

            "No," Marie said swiftly then grimacing, "Yes. There is something I need, Hop Sing."

            He waited patiently for her to tell him what she needed but she continued to just sit there, her fingers pulling nervously at the towel she held, her eyes downcast. Finally, he asked what it was she needed.

            "Can I just stay in here? I can help you. Or maybe, all things considered, I should just stay out of your way. But will you let me stay in here?"

            He glided over to stand across from the worktable from her. He could see that she had been crying.

            "Why missy want to stay in kitchen? Dress is all better. Party getting ready to dance. Missy can find someone to dance with, Hop Sing sure."

            Sadly, she shook her head 'no' and the tears welling up in her blue eyes escaped and ran down her cheeks, falling to the wooden top and making dark marks there. For several long breaths, the only sound in the kitchen was Marie' s gentle sobs. Finally she took a deep breath and dashed her towel across her face. The tracks of the tears remained.

            "No, it isn't the dress. It's-" and her voice caught in her throat.

            Hop Sing reached across the table and lifted one of her smooth delicate white hands in his. He realized that to his knowledge, this was the first Occidental woman's hand he had ever reached for in such a manner. The hand, so soft and small within his grasp seemed like a struggling white dove, seeking release yet searching for a place to hide all the same. Slowly, he stroked the trembling hand while holding it lightly.

            "Tell me," he whispered.

            In a voice low and struggling to contain its burden of sorrow, she spoke. "Two years ago, I was in an accident back home in Saint Louis. It broke my leg quite badly. I was in bed for months but it just didn't heal right. My father spent every bit of money he had on all sorts of doctors and charlatans. But nothing worked. As a result, now my leg doesn’t work right. It's shorter than the other one and I have a terrible limp. I'm clumsy because of it and I feel awkward trying to do anything. I knew I shouldn’t have come to this party but Meredith just pushed and pushed until I couldn't stand it any more. She has no idea how I feel. Left out, abandoned. Like I don't belong. And I don't belong! I wish I had never come. There isn't a man out there who will dance with me after one turn around the floor!"

            Hop Sing knew that to follow his first instinct could lead to trouble. Even with the power and prestige of the Cartwright name to shelter him, should any one find out it would lead to disaster. The law was even on their side. A heathen Chinee could not trifle with a white girl. It was simply far beyond what Society would allow. He could be beaten for it. Even hung for it. And the Cartwrights would be taken down with him, he knew. But there was something in the young woman beside him that cried out to the ache in his own soul. The words she had used, he had used once too: left out, abandoned, like he didn't belong. Then another white person had reached out to him and changed all that. As he cast his memory back, he smiled. Her name had been Marie too.

            He tugged on her hand and said, "Come." He led her out the side door, making sure no one saw them then around to the back of the house. There he pulled to a halt, within the tall hedges of his herb garden.

            The moon chose that moment to break free on the few clouds in the warm night sky. As Hop Sing looked into her face, he could see the remnants of the tears there. He used the cuff of his simple black jacket to wipe them away.

            "What is this place? It smells wonderful! And so beautiful! Look at the flowers here!" and she grasped up the fragrant petals of a gracious lavender plant. Again, her face came to life and lost the sharp pained look he had seen earlier there. He did not answer her questions at first but she continued to ask what this was, what that was and he found himself becoming intoxicated by her enthusiasm as well as her beauty. Finally she ran out of questions. Hop Sing stood silent, his heart full.

            From up at the house, Hop Sing heard the first gentle notes of a waltz come floating down to them in the garden. Many times he had heard the music that seemed to caress the soul with its gentleness but until that night, he had never been tempted to let it touch him. He shoved aside the thoughts that what he was doing was wrong. He held out his hand as he had seen other men do as a sign that they wished to dance with a lady.

            "I told you, Hop Sing. I'm clumsy. I can't dance," she said again, her voice heavy with sorrow.

            He simply gestured again. She shook her head and sighed deeply. "You are going to regret it," she whispered but took his hand any way.

            The first few moments were awkward, indeed. Hop Sing, having no idea about the intricate steps involved, tried to watch what she was doing and copy it. She laughed aloud and he laughed with her.

            "Mister Adam make it look so easy!" he exclaimed.

            "Well it is easy. Like this," and she proceeded to demonstrate. "Now let's try it again. Okay?"

            And again and again they tried. The music soon changed to a much livelier piece and by unspoken agreement, Hop Sing and Marie moved apart. Hop Sing showed her to the small bench there at the back of the house where he often rested from working in his garden. She sank onto it with another tinkling laugh. He sank to the ground, content to sit at her feet.

            "So, tell me what it's like living here," she urged, her eyes alive with some inner delight.

            As Hop Sing told her of his many duties, he found himself amazed that she was paying attention to what he said. She would break into his narrative and ask questions that showed she was listening. Nothing seemed to not interest her and he realized that no one had ever paid such close attention to him in his life as this woman. She laughed when he told her how hard it was some mornings to get Little Joe out of bed. She commiserated with him when he complained of having to heat more water so Adam could have a hot bath all too regularly. She even asked him what the secret ingredients were to the spring tonic he fixed for Hoss.

            "It sounds to me like this family would fall apart if it weren't for you Hop Sing!" she praised and he lapped it up like one of the barn cats at a bowl of milk.

            "Listen!" he said sharply. "They play music for us again. Come, show me how to dance like that again." He stood quickly and pulled Marie up from her bench.

            This time, there was no awkwardness, no fumbling. The two seemed to float across the grass and pine needles, always in harmony and in time to the delicate strains of the music. As they danced, he felt her body close to his own and he reveled in the warmth of it. Again, he smelled the hint of allspice and it comforted him. He heard her sigh deeply when the music stopped but she did not move away from him but stayed within the circle of his arms. His hands were shaking as they moved to her face, brushing back the tiny tendrils of hair that had broken free of her coiffure. Hop Sing warred but for a few moments with himself, then gently reached back and pulled the pins from her hair, setting it free. Again he ran his hands over her face, trying to memorize every nuance there. He wanted to kiss her.

            "No," he cried softly and dropping his hands from their exploration of her face, turned away so she could not see the longing in his eyes.

            "No what?" she queried softly and reached out with her hand to touch his face and bring him back to her.

            "Can not do this. Is wrong."

            "Wrong for who?"

            "Missy not understand. Is wrong for Hop Sing to even touch white woman, much less-" and his words stumbled to a halt.

            "It's not wrong," she insisted, her voice soft yet strong at the same time. "For once in your life, think of yourself. Think of what you want."

            The words were so simple to say, he thought, but so hard to believe. Slowly, as she stroked his face, he let the years of denial fall away. He let his hands comb through her long tresses, taking away all the long days spent in giving pleasure to someone else as he took pleasure in the feel of her there. Bit by little bit, he allowed himself to feel not as a servant and not as a second-class citizen but as a man with all the longings and desires for life he had thought useless.

            Tentatively at first, he kissed Marie. She leaned into him and parting her lips, gave him unspoken permission to continue. Gathering her to him tightly, he crushed her lips to his and gave himself over to the passion he felt rising in himself as well as her. Again and again, he plunged into her warm mouth until he was breathless.

            She leaned against him, her arms holding him to her. She delighted in the feel of him as he stroked her hair, her face, her neck, her back. Again she lifted her face to his and this time there was no hesitation. He kissed her hungrily and she responded with a hunger all her own.

            The door slamming sounded more like the shot from a rifle and it jerked Marie and Hop Sing apart. Quickly, each stepped away, Marie shoving her hair back from her face and Hop Sing pulling down on the hem of his black jacket.

            "Hey Hop Sing! Where you at? We need some more punch!" and Hop Sing groaned inwardly at the sound of Ben Cartwright's voice as it came from the side of the house. With a warning glance at Marie to stay silent, Hop Sing scurried around the corner, chattering away in his native language.

            She stayed in the garden, walking among the plants, stopping to smell this and that for a while longer. With a sigh, she realized that she was waiting for him to return but knew that he wouldn't. She knew that Society thought what they had done was wrong but for the life of her, she couldn't see what was so bad about it. He had kissed her. So what? Other men had done that and even tried to go a little further. Wistfully, she let her fingertips linger on her lips, remembering the feeling of his kiss. Never before had someone kissed her like that, though. It had been so full of desire.

            Finally, Marie turned back towards the house. As she entered the brightly lit large room, she saw him. He stood off to one side, arranging the different platters of food. At first she thought she would go to him but as she started across the room, he looked up and saw her. Slowly, he shook his head 'no' just once then looked quickly back to what his hands were doing. She saw his hands shake minutely then they disappeared into the folds of the apron he wore. He turned quickly and went into the kitchen without a backward glance.

            The musicians started up again and she found herself on the arm of a young man she didn't know, dancing. For the rest of the evening, she chatted and even danced occasionally, but her heart kept going into the kitchen where she knew she could not go in person. She would see him, darting about, taking care of all the little things as she knew he would. But never again did they make eye contact, for both knew it would be much too painful.

            With the last of the lilting music done, the guests began to find their way out the door and to their waiting carriages. Marie was no different from the others as she followed her cousin and the handsome Adam Cartwright out into the still night air. She stood sedately aside while Meredith allowed Adam to kiss her cheek. She climbed into the surrey and heard Meredith coyly reply to Adam that he could certainly come calling at a later date. Once Meredith was in the surrey, Marie dipped her head and thanked Adam for allowing her to come to party.

            "I had a wonderful time," she said, her eyes downcast demurely.

            With a sudden jolt, the surrey moved out to join the stream of others leaving the party. Marie had turned as though to say something to Meredith when she saw Hop Sing standing in the kitchen doorway where she had stood to dry her dress. He stood well back from everyone else so no one else saw him press his hand to his lips then turn it slightly in her direction as if sending a kiss to her. She almost mimicked his moves but stopped herself when she realized others would see her do it. Instead, she lifted her hand just an inch or so from the back of the surrey's seat, her fingers slightly spread, as though gently reaching for something. In her heart, she was.

            With the last of the guests gone, Ben turned and strode back into the house. It didn't surprise him in the least that Hop Sing was busy clearing away the remains of the party.

            "Fantastic job as always Hop Sing!" he praised and gave the black clad shoulder a hearty pat. "Boys. Let's give Hop Sing a hand here."

            "No, that okay. Hop Sing take care of everything. You go to bed now. Hop Sing clean up."

            "But-" Ben sputtered for usually Hop Sing demanded help after a party. This was a complete turn around and Ben had no way dealing with the almost vehemence he heard in the cook's voice. "Are you sure?"

            "Hop Sing very sure. Now go away!"

            Eyebrows raised, all four of the Cartwrights wisely disappeared up the stairs, calling good night to each other.

            Once he had heard all the doors close, Hop Sing stopped the almost frantic cleaning he had been doing. As he stood in the center of the room, now empty of people and devoid of sound, he closed his eyes tightly. He fought to calm his clamoring emotions and found himself hearing the strains of a waltz. As the waltz played inside his head, he envisioned Marie there in his arms and with tears streaming down his face, he began to slowly dance around the room. When the music came to an end, he opened his eyes and looked around. Rubbing his face on his sleeve, he went back to the tables and began gathering up the now empty platters….

In the small hours of the morning following the party, Hop Sing awoke with a heart-pounding gasp and sat straight up in bed. The dream had been so real! So intense that he could almost feel her there beside him. He would have sworn that her scent lingered there on the pillow where his head had been a few moments ago. Afraid that it was true but then again that it wasn't, he ran his hand over the sheets, wanting to feel her warmth there yet not. The sheets were cool and after a moment, the last tendrils of the dream drifted from him like smoke on a gentle breeze. He closed his eyes and dropped back onto the soft bed. And willed himself to dream of her again.

The end

Tahoe Ladies

May 2001