The Friendship Doll (21 page)

He walked over to the windows, dropped to his knees, and leaned over the desk to press his forehead against one small pane. His racing pulse began to slow. He took a few deep breaths. From here, he could see the Space Needle. When he was little, he used to pretend it was a spaceship that would take him back to his home planet. He’d been such a doofus. He turned his head so he could see the seaplanes land down at the other end of Lake Union.

He heard sniffling behind him.

Emma had followed him up the ship’s ladder. She was sitting cross-legged on the mattress. Her nose was shiny and her eyes red. “I want Seal,” she said, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close to her chest.

Mason was embarrassed by her dramatics, but he felt the same way. “I didn’t think she would be this bad,” he said.

Emma wiped her nose on the pillowcase. Then she began to cry in earnest.

He felt his own throat tighten. If this kept up, he’d be bawling himself.

“Hey, do you want to go in the attic?” That had always
been against the rules. Seal had been afraid one of them would put a foot between the joists, or something. But Seal wasn’t in any condition to tell them to stay out and Mom was too busy with Seal to check on them.

“Sure.” Emma ran her nose across the pillowcase one more time. “Let’s go.”

Whenever adults tell you to stay away from something, that something gains a powerful draw. Mason knew where the attic hatch was—had gotten close to opening it many times. He scooted across the floor to the far wall. “It’s this door.” He’d been about five when he discovered the hidden attic entrance, almost invisible in the bedroom wall.

The door was stiff. He put his shoulder into it. After three tries, it opened and he fell through.

“Shh!” Emma flapped her hands at him. “Your mom will hear.”

“That was an accident.” He shook himself and then wriggled through the now-open door. Emma followed. They balanced their way over to a section where some floorboards had been laid down. Mason was relieved to reach the secure surface. All those years of Seal telling him he could fall through the joists were hard to let go of.

“It’s kind of creepy,” said Emma, feeling her way to the safe spot next to Mason. “Do you think there are spiders?”

“Only poisonous ones.”

Emma squeaked. “What?” She began scrambling toward the door.

Mason grabbed her foot. “Just kidding.”

“That was mean!” But Emma said it with a laugh.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, looking over the jumble of boxes and trunks and stuff. “Remember when Seal let us eat strawberry shortcake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner that time?” Emma hugged her knees to her chest. “And how she always made a treasure hunt for us to find our birthday presents?”

Remembering those things made Mason feel worse, not better. He got on his hands and knees and began exploring. “Hey, look at this.” He held up an old record.

Emma read the label. “It says ‘Hawaiian Love Song.’ I wonder what they played these on.”

“A record player, dummy.” Mason flipped open the lid of a nearby cardboard box. “Hey, here are Seal’s Christmas decorations.” He gently pulled out a blown-egg ornament, made before his mom was even born, decorated with red felt and cotton to look like a Santa head.

“Careful with that,” Emma said. She tugged at an old suitcase, trying to open it. “Do you know how to pick locks?”

Mason made a face. “We haven’t gotten to that unit in school yet.” He scootched past Emma to the very back corner of the attic. Under a moth-eaten army blanket he found a trunk. And it wasn’t locked. He pushed the levers and they clicked open. He lifted the lid.

A pair of eyes stared back at him.

“Aaah!”
He fell back.

Oh, to feel a bit of light again. It’s lovely. Lovely. If I could move my limbs, I would indulge in a glorious stretch. But for now I will be content to be out of the darkness.

It appears that a boy is the one who opened my trunk. Strange creatures, boys. They tend to avoid dolls and thus avoid me. I recall Brigitte telling me they were smelly, with disgusting things in their pockets. This one doesn’t look so bad. And I don’t smell anything but dust.

“What is it? A rat?” Emma squirmed her way to Mason and peeked over his shoulder. “You yelled about a doll?”

“I was surprised, okay?”

Emma nudged him out of the way. “She looks Japanese. Where do you think Seal got her?” She set the doll on the floor and rummaged in the trunk. “Look at all this stuff in here.” She pulled out a small teapot and a torn silk parasol. “Some of this doesn’t look like it belongs. A marble? And this handkerchief doesn’t look Japanese.” She shook it out. “Not with yellow airplanes on it.”

A piece of paper fluttered to the floor when Emma lifted out the printed handkerchief. Mason picked it up. He couldn’t read it very well—the writing was all faded. He could make out something about words and birds. He folded the paper up carefully and put it back in the trunk. “This stuff might be valuable. It looks pretty old.”

There is a cloud over these children, especially the boy. I sense a loss, not unlike the one Lucy experienced when the hard times changed her father so.

Was I awakened by this boy’s need? Is he the one I am to help? I have been asleep so long that my mind is as useful as one chopstick. Perhaps it is best to wait. To watch. To listen.

Mason didn’t like the way Emma had set the doll facedown on the floor. He turned it over. “Hey,” he said. “Let’s take this downstairs. Ask Seal about it.” He wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, but now that he’d said it aloud, he liked it.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” said Emma. “I want to look around some more.”

Mason gingerly picked up the doll. The last thing he wanted to do was break it getting it down the ship’s ladder. But he managed safely.

“What have you got there?” Mom was coming out of Seal’s bedroom carrying a teacup.

“Uh. We found it. In the attic,” Mason answered.

Mom frowned. “You know that’s off-limits.” But she didn’t sound too mad. “It’s pretty. I’ve never seen it before. I wonder if it was Seal’s when she was a kid.” Mom filled the teakettle and set it on the burner. “Were you going to show it to her?” She smiled at him. “That’s a
great idea. Sometimes the past is an easier place for her to be.”

The doll slid around a bit in Mason’s arms. He felt goofy holding it. Good thing none of his friends could see him.

“Go on in. I’ll be there in a minute. Abby went out to grab some lunch and Seal wanted another cup of tea.” She lifted the tea tin down from the cupboard.

Mason took a deep breath and stepped into the bedroom, holding the doll out in front of him like a shield.

“Oh!” Seal struggled to sit up in bed when she saw what he carried. “Miss Kanagawa!” Her voice sounded younger. Almost girlish.

It is a shock to see an old friend so gray and wrinkled. But I would recognize those eyes anywhere. All those hours we spent together, there in the museum. She would come to me, eyes damp with discouragement and pain, and by the time she left, they would be lit with hope.

Seal laughed a Seal laugh. A real laugh. It made the knot in Mason’s stomach loosen a bit. “My old friend,” she said. “Oh, do we have stories to tell!” She took the doll from Mason and set it on one side of her in the bed. She patted the other side for Mason to come sit. He did. Mom slipped in with Seal’s tea and perched on the chair at the vanity.

“I hope you never have to live through a time like that. The Dirty Thirties, some folks called it. We lost the farm, Mama …” Seal’s eyes seemed to be focused on something far away from her bedroom in a houseboat on Lake Union in Seattle. “And lost our way, Pop and I.” And she told them the story of how she and her father left Oklahoma for California. And how they ended up in some kind of camp in Oregon. It was a sad story. Mason saw Mom wipe her eyes every now and then.

“Then Dr. Evans opened the museum, and when I saw Miss Kanagawa”—Seal stroked the doll’s black hair—“I knew I’d found a friend. When the war broke out, they didn’t want her anymore. Didn’t want anything Japanese. Dr. Evans bought her from the museum with his own money. And he gave her to me.” She shook her head. “He and his wife, my old schoolteacher, were both so good to me.”