Bridge of Scarlet Leaves (43 page)

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Authors: Kristina McMorris

BOOK: Bridge of Scarlet Leaves
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71
A
fter TJ left the rest home, where he’d reveled in his father’s progress as much as his sister’s joy, the first face that came to mind was Jo’s. He couldn’t wait to tell her the news. He nearly raced straight over, but a thought stopped him.
His father’s car.
TJ couldn’t move on with that rusted chunk of metal chaining him, and his family, to the past. So he returned home and phoned the local mechanic shop. He didn’t go into detail. Didn’t need to. The town’s memory was long and wide.
“Got an old car I need towed to the junkyard,” was all it took. Within hours, the grizzled guy in a jumpsuit came to his aid, and TJ watched the sedan roll down the street and out of sight.
The sole evidence left was a heap of tarp beside the house. He worried the vacant spot would feel empty. Instead it felt open. Like a window raised in a stuffy room. Finally he could breathe.
 
Nobody answered at the Allisters’.
TJ knocked louder. The lights were on inside, and he had no intention of leaving without seeing her.
Soon one of Jo’s older brothers swung open the door. “Yeah?”
“I’m looking for Jo.”
“She ain’t here.”
“Know when she’ll be back?”
“Dunno.”
“Any clue where I can find her?”
The guy scratched his forehead. “Hard tellin’. She went on a walk.”
TJ wanted to probe more, but Jo’s granddad called out for some water, and it didn’t seem right to hold up his request. Besides, TJ could take a wild guess as to where she’d gone.
“Thanks,” TJ said, and the door closed.
Through the darkened streets, he strode toward the old sandlot, sorting out what he would say. Lately any plan he’d created ended up screwy. He was probably better off trusting his instincts. In baseball, at the peak of his career—through every no-hitter, every shutout—that’s what he’d done. It was time he applied the same theory to his heart.
From the edge of the park, he could see the shadowed outline of a person lying on the mound. Wearing a baseball cap. Staring up at the summer sky.
“That’s my Jo,” he said to himself, and smiled. As he quietly approached, certainty over his assumption wavered, until he was close enough to make out her features. Ah, yeah. He knew that face. The narrow chin, smart bronze eyes. He’d reviewed them in his mind so often, he could spot her in a crowd fifty years from now.
He was about to toss out a greeting, eager to surprise her, when she beat him to it.
“Take a wrong turn?” she asked dryly. She kept her gaze on the sky, fingers knotted behind her neck.
“Your brother told me you went walking.”
“And?”
“And ... I thought you might be here.”
“Yeah, well, you found me. I’ll put your prize in the mail.”
So much for not harboring a grudge.
“Listen, I can see you’re still sore at me. But give me a chance to explain, all right?”
She shot him a hard look. “You explained enough already.”
He’d prepared for irritated. He’d expected stubborn—it was one of the traits he loved about her. What he hadn’t anticipated was the arctic glare in her eyes. A dagger of a message that said it was too late.
Maybe it was. Two whole years had passed. She too had done her share of living, according to Maddie, with plenty of hardships. Her granddad’s health, a dream career squashed. She hardly needed this curveball thrown at her.
Let him go. You just gotta let him go.
Captain McDonough’s words repeated in his ears, and they related no less to Jo. Holding her close inside had kept TJ going. During moments when he’d otherwise have suffered alone, she had been there. She’d become the tune he’d lost, the hum that rose from deep down. She was the song that strengthened him.
How could he ask her for more?
She’d given him enough.
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said at last. “It won’t happen again.”
Although it pained him, he turned and started back. The fact she didn’t ask him to stay confirmed he was doing the right thing. She deserved someone who made her happy, a guy who had his stuff together. For the time being, that obviously wasn’t him.
Almost at the sidewalk, TJ glanced down at his shoes, among the many things he’d taken for granted before the war. They’d seemed unfamiliar when first reuniting with his feet. But a normal fit had since returned, and once again they were running away.
Was he still too chicken to take a risk? Lane would call him a chump for it. He’d tell him to go after the girl—just like Lane had persisted in the rescue. The guy could have given up, for lots of good reasons, and he didn’t.
Drawn by the thought, TJ gradually wheeled around. Every day he faced the harsh reality that Lane was gone. Nothing would change that. In the end, TJ had no choice but to let him go. When it came to Jo, though, he had a choice. Unless he wanted to rack up more regrets, he’d hang on to that girl. Or at least go out swinging.
His determination doubled as he charged toward the mound. Jo was now sitting upright. She gazed off into nothing, hugging her trouser-covered knees. TJ was a few yards from her when he said what he should have from the beginning.
“The three stars in a row, those are Orion’s belt. And next to that is the sword he’s using to fight Taurus. The hunter’s guard dogs are at his side. And the top one? That’s your father, the brightest one in the entire sky.”
She stared at him with lines on her brow.
“Jo, nobody in that prison knew if we’d ever make it out. Worse yet, there was nothing to show that anyone remembered us. But then I’d look up at night, I’d see those stars, and I knew you were out there. It was you, Jo—you were what brought me home.”
Crouching down, he reached for her hand.
She pulled away. “Please don’t do this.” Sadness filled her eyes, her voice. He’d hurt her with that last letter more than he had ever imagined. Ironically, it was the only message that hadn’t been true.
“I was scared,” he admitted, “plain and simple. If you want to know how I really feel—”
“You died,” she burst out.
He stalled on her words, trying to comprehend.
“There was a mix-up. The cable for Maddie, it should have been forwarded to the farm, but it came to your house when I was there. They said you were KIA.”
TJ hadn’t thought of anyone except his sister being affected by the false announcement. Those blasted miserable telegrams.
“Maddie said it was a formality, because of how long you’d been missing, and that we shouldn’t believe it. But to me, TJ—you died.” She jerked her gaze away and her volume lowered. “I lost my father, I almost lost Gramps, and then ... I just can’t go through that again.”
In the silence, he studied her. They were so much alike. Both concealing scars, having every reason to prevent another wound.
TJ sat beside her on the mound and explained, “I understand wanting to protect yourself. I’ve been doing that for years. But look where it’s gotten me.”
Her face remained to the side.
“Lord knows, there’s fellas out there who’d be a lot easier to handle,” he said. “This might come as a shock, but I do realize I’m not completely flawless.”
Her chin crinkled from a smile creeping onto her lips. Boy, how he loved that smile.
With care, he took off her baseball cap, and was relieved she didn’t resist. “Take a chance on me, Jo. I won’t let you down again.”
He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. More than from any ball game, more than his ship docking in the States even, he felt a sense of coming home.
At last, she turned to him, a growing gleam in her eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.
TJ smiled, and nodded. Then he drew her face closer and tenderly kissed her lips; they were soft as cotton, her breath warm and sweet. A rush of desire tingled through him. Yet he harnessed his willpower, eased himself back. They had a long journey ahead and hurrying would mean missing the enjoyment of every step.
“Come ’ere,” he said, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder. He savored the lemon scent of her hair as he curled his arms around her.
And they started to talk.
They traded stories about family and Hawaii and the hardware store. He made her giggle with tales about Ranieri and Tack, who both had a hankering for Hollywood starlets and were counting down the days to visit. She recounted highlights from the All-American Girls Baseball League, and of losing to the Racine Belles in the World Championship.
Finally, when he remembered to ask, he discovered that Jo wasn’t short for a longer name, rather a tribute to her dad’s favorite pitcher, the great “Smoky Joe” Wood.
TJ laughed at the revelation. He should have known all along.
“Something wrong with that?” Jo playfully challenged.
“Nope,” he replied with sincerity, “it’s a perfect fit.” As was she.
When the time came, he held her hand and walked her home. Every block produced memories, good times shared with Lane. In the midst of remembering, he caught a flicker in the air, a white wink from the North Star. It glowed high and bright, a compass in the sky.
That one’s your father,
he would tell Suzie someday.
Whenever you feel lost, he’ll always be there to guide you.
72
T
he impending ceremony made today the most appropriate for removing her ring.
Seated at her vanity, Maddie fastened the clasp and wistfully admired the golden loop. Her wedding band, like a cherished locket, hung from her necklace once more. Unlike before, though, she wouldn’t hide it beneath her blouse; she’d wear the keepsake proudly and always close to her heart.
“Maddie!” TJ hollered from downstairs. His footfalls pounded up the steps. “You up here?”
He must have received an answer.
She crossed her room anxiously and met him at the door. “What did they say?” His expression gave no hint.
“Counselor tried his best to pull some strings. To get me into the classes I still needed.” He suddenly beamed with a smile that took years off his face. “Still have some paperwork to do for the GI Bill, but otherwise, I’m set for fall term.”
Aside from Kumiko’s announcement that morning, this was the best news Maddie could have hoped for.
“That’s not all,” he added.
At the suspenseful pause, she showed her palms, pressing him to finish.
“Coach Barry’s back from the Navy.”
His old coach, his favorite of all time. “Gosh, TJ! That’s marvelous. Will he be at USC again?”
“They’ve actually invited him to help with all three sports.”
“Well?” she said. “Have you seen him yet?”
“No, but—”
“You should make an appointment. As soon as possible.”
“Maddie, I don’t need to see him.”
She folded her arms, pinned him with a glare. “Thomas James Kern. If you think I’m going to sit back and watch you hem and haw about playing again, just so you can mope around this house come March—”
“I don’t need to see him,” he interjected, “because I already talked to him on the phone.” His mouth settled into a smirk. The old TJ was definitely shining through, barring their apparent reversal of roles.
“So,” she drew out. “Do I have to drag the story out of you? Or are you going to fill me in?”
“Coach Barry said he had to chew it over with Coach Dedeaux, but—if I worked at getting back in shape—I’d be welcome at spring training.”
“Oh, TJ. Congratulations!” Maddie went to hug him until he stopped her with a warning.
“This doesn’t guarantee I’m making the team. Just that he’s giving me a second chance to try.”
Second chances, she’d learned, were a luxury many would never have. Her brother understood that better than anyone.
“You’ll be on that team,” she told him with absolute certainty. “And we’ll all be in the stands cheering for you.”
TJ didn’t argue, or downplay with sarcasm. He merely looked at her with gratitude.
“Mama!” Suzie’s munchkin voice pulled Maddie’s attention.
“Iko.”
She stood in the hallway with a paper lantern in her arms, underscoring her plea to leave. She resembled Lane more and more each day.
“Is everyone ready?” Maddie asked.
The girl nodded her head in excitement. To Suzie, the event was purely a celebration. For others, it wasn’t that simple.
“In that case ...” Maddie borrowed support from her brother’s eyes. “I suppose it’s time.”
 
They walked in twos down the slope toward the riverbank. All of them but Suzie carried an octagonal lantern atop a wooden square. Nobu held her little hand, leading the way. He stomped at occasional strands of overgrown grass invading the dirt path, their blades brown from the late summer heat. Behind the pair, Yuki padded alongside Emma, and TJ escorted Jo with a hand on her lower back. Shades of a sunset smoothed the sky.
September had arrived, weeks past the annual Obon festival. Yet Emma’s suggestion of a belated rite, in honor of the deceased, seemed fitting in spite of tradition. Kumiko had agreed, to the surprise of everyone except Maddie, who felt it made sense. Not only had Lane’s mother shown acceptance of past tragedies, but her penchant for strict rules, as well as superstitions, had clearly waned.
Perhaps it was the thousand stitches that had failed to save her son. Maybe she had just grown weary of allowing fear to dictate her actions. A good lesson, actually, for them all.
Halfway down the hill, Kumiko stumbled slightly. Maddie grabbed the woman’s closest kimono sleeve. Wooden
geta
weren’t ideal shoes for the rocky trail.
“Daij
bu?”
Maddie asked.
Kumiko gave a small bow of her head, affirming she was fine. She looked more than fine. In the ornate floral garment with a wide orange belt, black hair bound into a soft bun, she was the picture of elegance and beauty. Was this how she used to dress before leaving her homeland? Would she regret not returning as she’d always desired?
Maddie had rejoiced as much as Emma when Kumiko declared their change of plans: They were staying in California for good.
But now, seeing the woman in such a complementary garb, the essence of another existence, Maddie questioned if they were making the right choice, and for the right reason.
“Mrs. Moritomo, I was wondering ...”
“Ok
san,”
Kumiko corrected, a directive to call her
Mother.
She stared straight ahead as she walked. No sentimental outpouring. Just a statement of fact.
At the unexpected gesture, Maddie nearly forgot her question. “Didn’t you say that ... you’ve always dreamed of moving back to Kyoto?”
“Mmm.”
The familiar address of
Ok
san
further tempted Maddie to let things alone, yet she had to be sure. She refused to be another barbed-wire fence entrapping the woman’s life.
“The reason I ask is—well, I want you to know that Suzie and I would be all right. Don’t misunderstand, we’d miss you all terribly. You’re our family. I just don’t want to keep you from going back home, if that’s truly what you want.”
“Mmm,” Kumiko said again, and added, “You want to know why we change mind?” Her even tone indicated Maddie’s presumptions might have been wrong.
Maddie shifted her grip on the lantern and answered, “Yes.”
Pausing her steps, Kumiko angled to face her. “Is true, always I miss Japan.
Demo,
Takeshi fight for America, die for country. Finally I see, this is home. Family is here. And always, Kyoto inside,
ne?
” She patted the chest of her kimono.
“Wakatta?”
she asked.
Maddie smiled in reply. Indeed she fully understood.
 
The group gathered beside the river, and with lantern candles lit, they began Tojo Nagashi, a ceremony of setting spirits free.
Emma went first. In honor of Mrs. Garrett, she placed her lantern on the water. She asked for the woman’s blessings on Mr. Garrett’s behalf; he and his bride, Ida, were now expecting a baby. As the glowing structure floated down the stream, Maddie somehow had a sense his late wife would be pleased.
TJ went next, offering a lantern for his and Maddie’s mother. Without question, she was smiling down on them, overjoyed her husband would soon be moving home. This time, at the mention of her, Maddie smiled too. The wringing in her chest, a usual cost of recalling her mom, was gone for good. She simply felt serenity, and a deeper connection from their bond of motherhood.
Jo followed with a tribute to her parents, and Nobu with an acknowledgment to the lives of all those lost in war—a war that, God willing, would never be repeated.
Approaching the water’s edge, Kumiko touched the painting she’d added to a lantern wall. On the sheet of rice paper, a sparrow appeared alone, but its wings were spread wide, as if soaring through the heavens. Suzume, at last, was free.
Then came Maddie’s turn.
With Suzie at her side, she retrieved from her pocket a medal belonging to Lane. The Distinguished Service Cross, awarded after his death. She ran her thumb over the golden eagle, across the ribbon of red, white, and blue. She’d first considered keeping it, but decided she didn’t need an object to display her husband’s valor. His devotion and bravery lived on in every memory, and in the freedom he’d helped secure for their child.
She set the decoration on the wooden square. With a joint nudge, she and Suzie released Lane’s lantern toward the sea. As it drifted away, his soul aglow on the reflective current, Maddie’s ears caught a sound. A melody in the breeze, forever there for those who listened.

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