Cherry Blossom Baseball (19 page)

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

M
ichiko
smoothed the front of her dress and took a deep breath before knocking at the Adams's front door. A trim, blond woman answered. Her pale skin shone like the several strands of pearls that filled the neckline of her soft, pink wool dress. She looked like she had just stepped out of an oyster shell. When the woman smiled, Michiko knew immediately she was Mary's mother.

“Isn't that a pretty dress,” Mrs. Adams said to Michiko as she extended a hand adorned with an enormous sapphire in a heavy gold setting.

Michiko followed Mrs. Adams into the large front hall filled with the smell of waxed floors and fresh flowers. She looked down to admire the thin white straps that crossed her ankles as she walked across the dark Persian carpet. The white leather rose on the toe of her shoes made her feet so unbelievably beautiful, she felt like dancing.

They passed a door that opened into a room filled with books. Michiko could see a desk with a big black typewriter. She guessed the wide set of stairs with oak banisters led to the bedrooms on the second floor, but Michiko knew she wasn't to go up. Mrs. Adams led her into a large living room with a “Happy Birthday” banner hanging across its great stone fireplace.

“Mary will be down in a minute,” Mrs. Adams said. “One of the girls is helping her dress. Please have a seat.”

“That girl has no class,” Carolyn said as she came down the stairs. “Your mother just invited her just to wind up the record player.” She entered the room wearing a splashy print dress with heart-shaped pockets. At the sight of Michiko in her new dress and shoes, Carolyn opened her mouth in surprise. She had applied lipstick, but it was smeared across her teeth. “I saw that dress …” she said. Then she held her right wrist up and twisted it back and forth to make sure Michiko would see her crowded charm bracelet.

The room soon filled with other girls, many of whom did not go to Bronte Public School. Sadie had been right about the dresses. Even though the girls wore dresses of different materials with different collars, they all had short, puffed sleeves and full skirts.

Mary introduced Michiko to the girls in her French and dance classes. She met members of the 4-H club and daughters of Mary's mother's friends. All of them slid their eyes over her dress but went on talking about summer yachting parties and dinners at the Paradise Park Hotel.

“Do you have a boat?” one of the girls finally asked.

“I used to,” Michiko replied. She smiled at the thought of the fishing expeditions she used to have with Clarence and Kiko.

“Sail or a motor?” another girl asked.

“Just oars,” Michiko said, but the surprised look on their faces made her wish she hadn't.

“A rowboat?” the girl shrieked, while others in the group covered their mouths in amusement.

Mary's mother opened the doors to the dining room. She beckoned her daughter's guests to a large, lace-covered table set with platters of cold cuts rolled like cigars and festooned with parsley and radish roses. There was a red jelly salad, snow-white potato salad, and a tray of celery, pickles, and tiny white onions. There were also platters of heart-shaped cookies and beige, gooey squares.

As Michiko lifted a plate from the buffet, Eddie appeared at her side in a suit and tie. It was the first time she had seen him in anything other than blue jeans and a T-shirt. His dimpled grin and gleaming hair made him look like a film star. But by the way he tugged at his collar and sleeves, she could tell he wasn't comfortable.

“You look very nice,” he said.

“So do you,” she said, picking up a silver fork that was so heavy, it slipped out of her fingers. Her face went red at her clumsiness.

Eddie kicked the fork under the table and indicated she was to take another. When she took a seat on the sofa to eat, he perched on the arm beside her.

“You sure are different from my sister's other friends,” Eddie said through a mouthful of potato salad. “And you really know how to play ball.”

“I wish I'd never tried out,” Michiko muttered.

“Why?” Eddie asked. “Not everyone makes the team.”

Michiko could see Carolyn watching them from across the room. Her voice dropped. “The coach just needed me to make up the numbers,” she said. “He said so himself.”

“Nah,” Eddie said, putting his empty plate on the floor. “It's not the coach striking out the other players. You got a good arm.”

Michiko pushed the rest of her food around her plate. “No one wants me to play.”

“Who doesn't?”

She felt her throat tighten. The last thing she wanted to do was burst into tears in front everyone, especially Eddie. She paused. “I think someone complained about me being a girl.”

“Wait a minute,” Eddie said. He looked about the room. “I saw something the other day I knew would interest you.” He reached out to the polished wood table at the side of the couch and lifted a magazine. Michiko recognized it as one they used to sell in their drug store. He passed it to her behind his back and whispered. “Check out the sports section on page …” but stopped speaking as the lights flickered. Mary's mother stood in the doorway with a lighted birthday cake. Everyone stood to sing as the circle of light wavered across the ceiling.

While Mrs. Adams cut the cake, Michiko went into the hall to flip through the magazine. She stopped at the black and white pictures of young women playing baseball.

BASEBALL PITCHES IN FOR THE WAR EFFORT

Since the professional baseball players have traded their bats for bullets, The All American Girls Professional Baseball League has stepped up to the plate. The spring season for the Rockford Peaches, Fort Wayne Daisies, South Bend Blue Sox, Kenosha Comets, Grand Rapids Chicks, and the Racine Belles has started.

Michiko stared at the photograph of a young woman in a short-sleeved, belted tunic sliding into third base. Then she read on.

The All American Girls Professional Baseball League is the brainchild of Philip K. Wrigley, the chewing-gum millionaire who owns the Chicago Cubs. Annabelle Lee, Faye Dancer, and Mary “Bonnie” Baker are just a few of the girls in pigtails who perform dirt-churning slides. They're all confident their hair won't get in the way of a home run.

Michiko sat on the staircase to finish reading the article.

“You're just ahead of your time,” Eddie said, coming to her side with a slice of cake on a plate. “People have to get used to women in sports,” he said as he held out the plate. “Especially when they are as good as you.”

“I still don't have a glove,” Michiko said, putting the magazine on the stairs. “The coach said I had to have a decent glove or not to bother coming back.”

“Then we better get you one,” he said.

“Get one what?” Carolyn asked from behind. She leaned against the doorway of the dining room eating a piece of Mary's birthday cake.

“It's none of your business,” Eddie said as he brushed past Michiko and ran up the stairs.

“Yes, it is,” Carolyn said with a smirk as she took little bites of the cake.

But the crooked smile on her face faded when she saw Eddie come back down the stairs in blue jeans and a T-shirt, carrying a glove.

He held it out to Michiko.

Michiko's hands shook as she accepted it. “For me?”

“It's just sitting around in the closet,” Eddie said. “I got a new one, remember?”

Michiko brought the glove to her face, closed her eyes, and inhaled the smell of oiled leather. “I'll take good care of it,” she said in a low voice.

“I know you will,” Eddie said. “And even though you look very pretty, you can't go to a practice dressed like that. I'll drive you home, and you can change.”

Michiko thanked Mary and her mother for the lovely party.

“It's always nice to have a house full of young ladies,” Mrs. Adams replied.

“Girls who swat at balls and whizz around on a bicycle are not ladies,” Carolyn said in a low voice as she followed Michiko to the front porch. When Michiko got into the car, Carolyn hummed a few bars of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.”

Coach Ward showed up carrying a stack of apple baskets. “A couple at each base, on their sides,” he called out as he tossed them to the players. He glanced in Michiko's direction and furrowed his brows. She held up Eddie's glove. He shrugged. “Let your eyes do the directing. One player at each base, to fish out the balls, the rest in the field. We're going to practise getting it to base.”

He put Michiko on third base. She took a hard drive to the foot and hopped about.

“The boys are playing rough today,” Billy said when she joined the line in the field.

Mark grinned. “You know what they say, if it's too hot, get out of the kitchen.”

Michiko moved to the front of the line. She pulled the ball to her chest, took a deep breath, and fired it into the apple basket so hard, it went right through the bottom. Michiko hoped they now knew what it might feel like if she decided to drive a ball at someone's foot.

The unseasonal heat wave caused the boys to peel off their shirts and collapse on the grass at the end of practice. As Michiko lay in the shade by herself, she thought about the rock-filled lot that used to be their baseball diamond in the camp. Every ball bounced in a different direction when it hit the ground, and no one cared whether the players were girls or boys.

IT'S OVER

A
fter
practice, Michiko picked up the mail from the box as usual. There was a letter from Kaz. She leaned her bike against the fence and sat by the side of the road to read it.

Dear Michiko,

These days I drink black coffee from china mugs an inch thick, but every coffee break comes with a couple of biscuits, which is a real treat.

A major visited and surprised us all when he spoke better Japanese than most of the recruits. He told us he was born in Japan and lived there until he was 19. He used to teach Japanese at Harvard University. All week long he tested our language. He told us how the graduates of the Japanese language school in Vancouver were serving in military positions.

Only a quarter of us were rated above average or excellent. I made the cut, which means I will be heading back to Vancouver. Next time you hear from me I'll be back in my old home town. If I can manage some leave, I'll be able to see Sadie.

Michiko nearly dropped the letter. They were sending Kaz back to Vancouver?

So happy to hear you made the team, and thanks for the information about Pete Gray. Some of the guys have tried some of his one-armed moves, and they are not easy.

She stuck the letter under her cap.
Kaz is going to look for Sadie. He won't be happy to find out she's not there.
But the new information gave her something to put in Johnny's next letter. Did she dare?

Even though the whole family had said their goodbyes before she'd gone to bed, Michiko rose at dawn to see her aunt before she returned to Toronto. She found Sadie standing by the front window. Her aunt's profile in the morning light reminded Michiko of one of those scissor portraits, facing one way, without a smile.

“Thanks again for the dress and shoes,” Michiko whispered as she slid her arms around her aunt's waist. Sadie patted her head but said nothing.

Eiko entered the room carrying Hannah. “Such a grown-up name for such a little girl,” Sadie murmured as she took the baby in her arms. Hannah's eyes shone, and she gave a smile of little pearly teeth. Michiko tickled her sister's pudgy toes.

Sadie's eyes filled with tears as she cuddled her. “When I moved to Toronto, I promised myself that I was finished talking about this stupid war. I fought injustice for three years, and it was time for me to pay attention to something else. So I focused on having an old-fashioned married life, and now that has been taken from me as well.”

“You'll get it back,” Eiko responded.

“
Itsu?
” Sadie asked.

“You just have to wait, like I did for Sam.”

“I was a fool to burn Kaz's letter without even reading it,” Sadie said in a low voice. “I don't even know where he is.”

B
ut I do,
Michiko realized. She slipped into her bedroom and pulled Kaz's last letter from her little blue box.

Sadie stepped outside carrying Hannah. Eiko followed.

Michiko lifted the clasp of her aunt's purse and pushed the letter underneath her embroidered silk change purse. Snapping it shut, she called out, “Don't forget this,” picked up the purse, and ran outside.

Later that morning, Michiko stood beside her mother watching her stir chopped cabbage into ground beef and add a dash of
shoyu
. Eiko placed a spoonful of the mixture into the centre of a small circle of dough. She lifted the bottom half of the wrap and pressed the edges together. “Pay attention,” she said. “One day, you will be making dinner by yourself.”

But Michiko didn't care about making
gyoza
. She wanted to learn how to make the crispy marshmallow treats that were at Mary's party.
Instead
of getting to do what I want to do in the kitchen
, she thought,
I have to set the table and do the dishes.
To make matters worse, she knew if her mother had to ask her to do something more than once, she would end up sitting on the front porch and thinking about her responsibilities. Life was so unfair.

“Don't forget I've got a game today,” Michiko said.

“Wash your hands,” was all her mother said.

A
t least I think I have a game,
Michiko thought.
Coach said nothing about the glove, even though Billy made a big fuss.
Her thoughts drifted to what the opposing team would be like this time.

“If we win this game,” Billy said, walking out to the diamond, “it'll be three in a row.”

“Always add caution to caution,” Michiko said.

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” Billy asked.

“It's something my grandfather always said to me when I was little,” Michiko said.

“Sorta ‘Don't count your chickens before they hatch?'” Billy asked. “That's what my grandpa is always saying to me.”

“Don't worry,” they overheard a boy from the other team say as they walked from the parking lot. “Girls are no good at baseball.”

Michiko stopped in her tracks. Then she strode over to them with her hands on her hips. “Haven't you heard of Penny O'Brian, the Canadian playing professional baseball in the States?”

The boys stopped talking to look at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Michiko saw the man in the blue suit, wearing his brimmed hat low on his brow, getting out of his car. Realizing it wasn't a good idea to draw attention, she turned away and joined her team.

The game against the Canning Factory Cardinals was an easy win. Their centre fielder kept on racing forward while the ball sailed over his head. The right fielder called the ball but kept on falling as he staggered backward, letting the ball drop to the grass. The left fielder fumbled the ball every time he caught it. The others also overshot the base on their throws.

The game ended with a score of 8–1 for the Braves.

“Those guys play just like girls,” Mark commented as they headed toward their bikes. Michiko glared at him, but he didn't seem to notice.

“Why are you so interested in all this, Leahey?” Michiko and Billy heard Coach Ward ask the man in the blue suit. The two of them stood face to face in front of the coach's car. “You don't even have a son.”

Michiko and Billy turned to each other.
That man is Carolyn's father?

“It's the principle of the thing,” Mr. Leahey replied.

“What principle?”

“Girls don't belong on a baseball field. It's not ladylike.”

“So,” the coach said, heaving his large belly up over his belt, “let me get this straight. It's okay for women to hold down jobs in factories, drive ambulances, and put out fires while this war is on, but not all right for girls to play baseball in a small town junior league.”

The man removed his hat and looked around the field.

“Is that what you are saying?” the coach asked, much louder.

The rest of the Bronte Braves gathered around to listen.

“Obviously you don't pay any attention to regulations,” Mr. Leahey said. “Perhaps you have no business coaching this team.”

One of the boys on the team murmured, “We don't need a girl on our team.”

“She can pitch better than you,” Billy said, giving him a shove.

The man laughed. “She lied about being a boy,” he said, putting his hat back on. “You don't want a liar on your team, do you?”

Michiko couldn't take it any longer. Everyone stood there talking about her as if she didn't exist, and Mr. Leahey had just called her a liar. She pushed her way through the boys and stood between the coach and Carolyn's father.

“Mitch is short for Michiko,” she said, putting her hand on her hips, “my Japanese name.” She felt her face getting red. “No one asked me if I was a girl at tryouts, and I NEVER ONCE said I was a boy.”

Both the coach and Mr. Leahey took a step back.

Michiko remembered something her father once said. “Maybe,” she said, turning to Coach Ward, “it's time everyone stopped paying attention to the length of my hair and started looking at my earned run average? Do you want to win or not?”

Coach Ward looked at her in surprise, and a huge grin broke out across his face. “You've got spunk,” he said. “I'll give you that.”

He scratched his chin for a moment while Mr. Leahey shifted from one foot to the other. Then he turned to Carolyn's father. “She's right, with her on the team we have a good chance of winning. You'd think you'd be proud of your home team, instead of making trouble for them.”

“
My
home team?” the man said. His voice twisted with unmistakeable sarcasm. “This bunch of farmers and fruit pickers is not
my
team. I attended Applegate College.” He turned on his heel and stormed off.

“Your real name is Michiko?” Billy asked as they walked to their bikes. “Why does the teacher call you Millie?”

“Long story,” Michiko said, shaking her head.

“What do you want me to call you?”

“Whatever you want,” she replied, too weary to talk.

Mr. Nott appeared in the doorway of their classroom the next morning. “All senior students will assemble in the gymnasium,” he said in a serious voice and moved across the hall.

Michiko's class followed their teacher out of the door, merging with the others to form a noisy, expectant crowd.

“I bet there's going to be an air raid,” one of the boys called out.

“I bet the Germans invaded Britain,” said another.

Mary reached for Michiko's fingers and gave them a squeeze. She looked pale.

The principal strode to the podium and held up his hand for silence. They waited in the large room that smelled like dirty socks and rubber balls, facing the stage, wondering what was about to happen. He surveyed the students for a moment and then spoke. “Germany has surrendered,” he said. “The war in Europe is over.”

No one said anything at first, turning to look at the person beside them in disbelief.

“Did he just say what I think he said?” Mary asked.

“Senior students are to be given the rest of the day off,” the principal announced, and with that the gymnasium erupted into a great noise of cheering and yelling. Several teachers came to the front, singing “God Save the King” at the top of their voices.

The students surged out of the auditorium on to the front lawn to the sound of church bells ringing and the continual blast of the basket factory whistle. Like a swarm of bees, they made their way down to the village main street, laughing and cheering. The man who owned the drugstore lit firecrackers. Men appeared on the roof of the hardware store waving flags. There were all kinds of people coming out of buildings and cars, yelling and singing at the top of their voices.

Eddie waved to Michiko as he took his sister's hand.

“I better go back for Annie,” Billy said to Michiko, when the rest of the students had dispersed into the crowd.