The Ohana Part 12

Chapter Eighteen.

As Mary waited for Mitsuo to join her, she felt the wind lift her hair and mold her thin cotton dress to her slim body. Love had transformed her and she was completely happy for the first time since her father died.

Mitsuo was her first love. She was certain she would never love anyone else. He loved her so much, he allowed her to set the pace although it was clear he wanted her. She respected his self-control. Although they were very pa.s.sionate together, Mitsuo never crossed the line. He thought she was a timid maiden. He didn't know she was afraid. The final act seemed tawdry and dirty to her. She loved kissing and touching, but she was afraid going all the way would ruin everything. And she was terrified he'd despise her as a fallen woman if he discovered she had been spoiled.

Then, of course, there was the Sadako problem. They rarely talked about it, but it weighed heavily on both their hearts. Mary considered Sadako her best and only friend. How could she betray her like this?

"One cannot choose who to fall in love with. The heart wants what the heart wants. Attraction is destiny." Mary remembered her mother's words, but it didn't make her feel better.

Her quandary made torment and ecstasy her companions for the past three months. She knew Mitsuo also agonized over the choices before him. Mary didn't make demands. She wanted to enjoy the moment for as long as it lasted.

"Mary." A voice interrupted her thoughts by whispering into her ear as arms slipped around her waist.

Mary turned and smiled at Mitsuo. Throwing her head back, her lips parted and she threw her arms around his neck. "I love you," she announced before kissing him.

Mitsuo's fingers threaded through her thick hair, "what makes you so happy?"

"Being with you."

Mitsuo put his arm around her waist. They walked in aimless silence for a few minutes. When he stopped, he cupped her chin in his hand, "I've joined the Army. They've created an all-Nisei unit, the 442nd."

Mary stopped walking. "Why?"

"Because this is my country," Mitsuo grabbed her hands in his. "Don't worry. I'll come back. And when I do, we'll get married."

Mary melted against him for a moment before backing away. She put her hand on her throat. "Your parents...Sadako."

"Before I leave, I'll announce our engagement." Mitsuo put his arms around her. "I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

In spite of the complications, Mary felt sublimely happy.

Mary sensed the oppression in the Kawae household as soon as she entered the house after working in the store all day. Kawae san paced in the parlor with his head down. In the corner, his wife sobbed in Sadako's arms. Mary bent her head, trying not to witness to their suffering, but Sadako called to her.

Sadako fell into Mary's arms.

Mary hugged the trembling girl. "What is it?"

Sadako cried so hard she couldn't talk.

Mary shook her. "Sadako, what's the matter?"

"We've been relocated!"

"I don't understand."

"The government told us we have forty-eight hours to pack up and leave for a relocation center someplace in Arizona," Kawae san said.

"Why?"

"Because father runs the j.a.panese-language school," Sadako wrung her hands.

"I still don't understand."

"They want to make sure we're not spies." Sadako wiped tears from her eyes.

"What about the store? Your house?" Mary dropped her hands.

"It's not fair!" Sadako began pacing. "I'm an American!"

Sadako's mother looked at Mary and said. "We can only take what we can carry. We're allowed only two suitcases each." Masako Kawae's eyes swept sadly around the room. Their house was more luxurious than most j.a.panese. They had a tansu, a wedding chest from j.a.pan filled with silk kimonos. Zabutons, the brightly colored sitting cus.h.i.+ons j.a.panese favored, were placed around a low table on top of straw tatami mats. A decorative scroll hung on the bare wooden walls as well as a portrait of the Kawaes in j.a.panese dress. There was a small shrine in the corner of the room for Sadako's brother who died as a little child. Mary could see despite their pain, the Kawae's had remembered the little bowl of rice inside the shrine. The smell of incense floated from the shrine.

Masako's eyes lingered on the wedding chest. "I brought that from j.a.pan. It was my grandmother's." Her eyes went around the room. "We must take poor Tadas.h.i.+'s shrine." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief as Sadako rushed over to comfort her.

Mary wept.

The next evening, Mary packed her things to return home. Sadako came up the stairs to her room and began to pace back and forth. Ordinarily, Mary would have noticed something was up, but she was preoccupied with thoughts of Mitsuo, the war, her future, and the relocation centers.

Sadako stopped pacing. "The Tanakas are coming over tonight."

Mary turned. "What for?"

Sadako brightened. Her mouth curved into a little smile. "It's a good surprise. Make sure you come downstairs when they arrive." Before Mary could say anything, Sadako closed the door and ran down the stairs giggling.

A few hours later, Mary entered the living room and saw Mitsuo standing next to Sadako. Her arm was linked through his. Mitsuo avoided Mary's eyes. Sadako was so happy she looked almost pretty. She wore her best dress and clung to Mitsuo.

Then Mary saw the gold ring on her left hand.

Sadako rushed to Mary's side, hugging and kissing her. "Mary! Now I can tell you my secret. Mitsuo and I got married today!"

Mary turned her eyes to Mitsuo who looked at the floor. Without a word, she turned and walked out the door and up to her room.

There was a knock on her door. Mary lay on her futon with her head turned to the wall and her eyes closed. She heard the door open followed by the soft pad of footsteps on the floor. She opened her eyes and saw Keiko Tanaka. "It all works out," Keiko said. "Sadako can stay here now she has a husband who enlisted. When the war is over, Mitsuo can go to school. Sadako loves Mitsuo enough for the both of them."

Mary tried to sit up, but Keiko gently pushed her down. "We cannot change our destinies. That is the way of things. I'm truly sorry for you and I'm also sorry for Mitsuo."

"How did you know?"

"I'm not blind. I've seen the way you two look at each other. But marriage and love seldom go together. In time, Mitsuo will learn to be happy with Sadako. She brings him financial stability and a future as her dowry. With you, he could never become the doctor he wants to be. In the end, he might have despised you for destroying his dream."

Mary squeezed her eyes and tried to shut out Keiko's voice. To her great shame, she cried.

Kazuko returned home from selling baskets of tomatoes and sat down on the floor atop two faded zabutons. She took a cigarette from her ap.r.o.n pocket and lit up, savoring the strong, bitter taste. The weather was sultry, but not unpleasantly so. She felt sure there would be rain later tonight.

Looking out the window, she spied Mariko and Takeo walking together, their heads bowed in conversation. They were beautiful and intelligent with an air of aristocracy like her parents. Perhaps that was why she was unable to feel the spontaneous warmth she felt for her other children. Dragging on her cigarette, she wondered where all the years had gone.

Kazuko was not yet fifty, but she knew she looked sixty. She parted her graying hair in the middle, twisting it into a prim bun at the nape of her neck. For the last five years the neighborhood children took to calling her oba chan, old lady. In a way, they were right. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a face etched with wrinkles.

Mariko squeezed Takeo's arm as they approached Kazuko in the parlor. They looked at each other and nodded. Kazuko continued smoking. She wanted her children to find peace more than anything. She found happiness was elusive. Her own life was over the day Tetsuo died. She lived only for her children.

Mariko knelt and whispered, "Mama."

Kazuko said nothing. She knew why they were here. Takeo would go the way of the other young men in Kohala. This is why he looked nervous.

Kazuko took the cigarette out of her mouth and crushed the b.u.t.t out in a pinch pot sitting on a low table next to her. "Yes, I know. You're Americans," she watched a look of surprise pa.s.s between her two children. "Don't be so shocked. This I have always known. When I left j.a.pan, I knew I would never return." A lump rose in her throat. "I am j.a.panese. I always will be. But neither of you know j.a.pan. You were born here, you live here, and you will die here. A man should fight for what he believes in. You believe in America, so you must fight for it. When do you leave to fight, Paul?" It was the first time she had ever called him by the English name he had chosen for himself in first grade.

Mariko took her hand. "Paul leaves for California in two weeks, Mama. His j.a.panese is good enough to be an interpreter. I'm leaving, too. I'm moving to Honolulu. The war has created many jobs. I can make more money there than I can here and help you pay for the farm." Mariko spread her hands to encompa.s.s the farm.

Kazuko looked at her daughter and wondered what lay behind her sad and earnest eyes. But her daughter never talked to her about her life outside the farm. Perhaps if she knew why Mariko was unhappy, she wouldn't be able to stand it. She stroked Mariko's hair. "No, Mary," she said using her daughter's American name, also for the first time. "The farm is paid for. You must start thinking of yourself."

Mariko nodded. "Yes, Mama."

"Thank you for understanding." Takeo patted his mother's shoulder.

Kazuko took out another cigarette and lit it. The war was already beginning to change their lives. She prayed her son would survive.

Chapter Nineteen.

Honolulu was like a young girl just reaching p.u.b.erty. It seemed to Sean the city had blossomed overnight, suddenly awash with brave desire and wanton hope. It burst with servicemen filling rooming houses, cheap hotels, and flophouses. Money flowed out of their pockets as if they were condemned men granted a short reprieve. Wh.o.r.ehouses, pool halls, and bars sprang up. USO dances became the rage. A false sense of gaiety overtook the town, but tension and fear of the unknown lay beneath the reckless surface.

"This war is a behemoth changing the fabric of Hawaii," Duncan Ritchie complained at the prestigious country club he belonged to.

"Let's hope it's short-lived and we can return to business as usual," Sean said. For a brief moment he mulled over the irony of his being here. When Uncle Patrick was alive, Duncan wouldn't have dreamed of bringing his plantation manager here. What a difference one generation made.

Duncan chewed on his pipe and shook his head. "Hawaii will never be the same. There are too many servicemen and b.a.s.t.a.r.ds for that."

"War always brings opportunities."

"You're not thinking of enlisting like most of the young men around here, are you?" Duncan looked at him sideways.

"I'm a lawyer, not a soldier," Sean smiled. "I intend on spending the war right here in Honolulu."

The thought of blood, dirt, and death sickened him. But a day after his conversation with Duncan, he opened a letter from his sister Bridgett. The subtle smell of lavender floated from the notepaper and evoked memories of Bridgett's golden hair swept up above her long, white neck. He felt a pang of remorse. She was too good for the dirty, grimy streets of Boston.

My dear Sean, It's sad news I bring you. Our brothers, Seamus and Jimmy, are dead. Killed trying to be heroes in Italy and France. They're s.h.i.+pping Seamus's body back home for burial. Poor Jimmy was blown to bits and there will be no recovering any part of him. All Jimmy wanted was to see Paris and the Louvre. Now he's a part of France forever. You remember how Jimmy was, always painting and dreaming. He used to say he was going to visit you in Hawaii someday and paint. He only wrote one letter about the horror of the war. It left us all wondering because we don't really know what's going on there except what we read in the newspapers.

We told Seamus to leave the fighting to the young ones. He had a family to consider. But he never minded what others thought. He was always stubborn. So off he went and was killed. Less than two weeks after Jimmy.

There will be no more Duffys going, I hope. My own man thought of signing up, but I told him he was a fool. Ever since we got word of Seamus's death, there's not been a word out of him. Scared, he is. He was only thinking of the glory and the uniform. It never occurred to him he might be killed.

Take care of yourself. We all love you and miss you.

Bridgett Sean crumpled the thin sheets with one hand and clutched it to his forehead. How arrogant he had been. He thought of Jimmy dreaming of painting the wonders of Hawaii and was consumed with guilt.

He wrote a check for five thousand dollars to Seamus Duffy's family and another for three thousand to Bridgett. He put it in the afternoon mail.

But sending his family money wasn't enough, he joined the Army the next day.

Sean was alone in his office when he cleaned out his desk. The world outside was exploding, but here among the books and rich walnut paneling, he felt safe. Pearl Harbor had been bombed, but this weathered brick building with its graceful arches and paned windows on Merchant Street was untouched. The brash young men who only cared whom their date would be to the governor's ball were gone. The war had changed everything.

Sean regretted putting his career on hold, but as far as he was concerned, Hawaii was just another place. He fingered a leather-bound copy of Moby d.i.c.k on his desk and smiled. The book had taught him not to let one's emotions distort the main goal. Captain Ahab could have won if he had not been so personally invested in killing the whale.

"Mr. Duffy," a husky, female voice called out.

Sean looked up and smiled at Katherine Ritchie. She was in a stylish, tailored suit with padded shoulders and a cinched waist. "Yes?"

Katherine s.h.i.+fted her weight and fiddled with her purse. "I wanted to see you."

"Please, sit down," Sean waved to a leather chair. "What can I do for you?"

Katherine dropped into the sofa leather. "Does the war frighten you?"

"Only a fool wouldn't be afraid." Sean picked up a pen and twirled it in his fingers.

"Then why are you going?" Katherine put one hand on his desk.

Sean tapped the pen against the corner of his mouth. "Preservation of democracy? Destruction of evil? Patriotism? Contempt for insane despots who want to rule the world? Take your choice."

"You're not being honest with me," Katherine leaned forward. "People like us don't have to be used by politicians. So why go? One person will not make any difference on the outcome."

Sean shrugged. "It was an impulsive move on my part."

"Do you regret it?" Katherine leaned back in her chair, opened her purse and took out a cigarette. "May I?"

"Of course." Sean rose and lit her cigarette.

Katherine looked up at him as she blew smoke between them. "Well?"

Sean slipped the lighter in his pocket and returned to the plush of his chair. "To answer your question, I don't believe in wasting time on regrets."

"Wars are created by men like my father; rich, powerful, and without conscience. The rest of us are the casualties." Her green eyes mocked him. Tell me that's not true, they seemed to say.

Sean raised his eyebrows and smiled. He refused to accept her challenge. Instead, he deflected her. "As the daughter of one of the rich and powerful, how could you possibly be a casualty?"

Katherine's eyes softened. "I would be a casualty because you are going to war. Should anything happen to you..." Her voice trailed as she looked down at her fingertips.

Her romantic naivete was touching. He stood again and took one of her hands in both of his. "Why, Miss Ritchie, I'm flattered. But you mustn't waste your tears on me. I'm coming back. And I'll bet by then you will have a beau on each arm."