When her mother had fled Peking, she had taken a large sum of money with her, almost all her savings. But the journey had depleted those funds. Transportation was expensive and so were the bribes that allowed her to get on trains and trucks as she followed the missionary families to safety. She’d added what was left to Lian’s small cache and it was clear they would soon run out of money. The pantry was emptying at an alarming speed. Rice, flour, soy sauce, even salt.

“I must get back to the Southern Baptist Mission,” her mother said, struggling onto her crutches. “It pays a pittance but it’s better than nothing. Work is nearly impossible to find in Shanghai. Even if it’s only a cot at the Mission office, we’ll need somewhere to live when we lose this flat.”

When, not if. Rents in Shanghai were increasingly exorbitant. Even the Liu family would take notice soon and want to make the most of the opportunity.

“But not yet, Mother,” she said. “You’re still on crutches. You can’t walk to the Mission every day.”

“I don’t need crutches to type,” her mother said, sitting down again. Her hands clenched tightly around a teacup. “I can take a rickshaw. It’s worth the expense just to hold my place there. You could come with me. You can bring me documents from the filing cabinets, run errands so I don’t have to get up and walk. You should meet the Mission staff. You’ll make a good impression. Who knows, they might give you a job too. I must get back, let them know I’m ready to work again.”

Lian had to calm her down. She put her hand over her mother’s. “You still need to rest. Let me go to the Mission office and tell the staff you’re coming back. I’ll ask them to hold your job for you.”

Slowly, her mother’s fingers eased their grip and let go of the cup. Lian felt her shoulders tense, recognizing that once again, she needed to look after the two of them.

“Remember, we invited Shao and Sparrow tonight for dumplings,” Lian said. “And Dr. Mao. Do you need anything from the market while I’m out?”