The Sun Gods (5 page)

“Thanks for watching Billy today,” Tom said to her. “It was a great help.”

She bowed and said with a clarity that surprised him, “I enjoyed myself, also.”

It was the most he had ever heard her say at once, and her English sounded fine.

“Where did you learn English?” he asked.

“At mission school,” she replied.

“Well,” he said, searching for more to say, “we must … talk some time.”

“Yes,” she answered with a faint smile. This woman possessed a deep calm that seemed to radiate from somewhere behind her eyes.

“All right, young man,” he announced to Billy. “Time to go.”

Still clutching the paper bag, Billy simply ignored his father and went on hunting for trash.

“Billy …”

Billy shook his head.

“We've got to go now, son. Say goodbye to—”

Tom realized he didn't know what to call her. “Mitsuko” would be too familiar, and he didn't know her last name.

Billy was not going to give him the chance to find out. “No! Pick up more.”

“Let's go, son,” said Tom, kneeling to lift the boy in his arms.

Tom easily scooped up his little body, but the child would not release the paper bag, which tore, spilling its contents on the ground.

“Sorry,” said Tom, putting Billy down again and gathering the scraps. “I hope to see you next Sunday.”

Mitsuko nodded silently.

Tom picked Billy up one more time and took a few steps in the direction of his car, but there was an explosion of kicking and screaming in his arms.

“Hold on now, Billy.” Tom's voice deepened in anger. He grabbed Billy by the armpits and shook him. “Stop it!”

The boy's hysteria only increased. “Mitsu!” he screamed. “Mitsu!”

Before Tom realized what was happening, Mitsuko was by his side. She reached up and pulled the boy from his hands.

“That's very kind of you, but he's got to learn not to act this way.”

Tom reached for his son, but Mitsuko turned her back on him and began walking slowly in circles, cradling the boy and singing softly to him.

“Really,” said Tom, following after her helplessly. “I'll take him home now.”

Mitsuko turned and looked at him intently. “I will come,” she said.

“What?”

“I will ride your car. Billy will sleep.”

“But …”

“Please wait.” With Billy in her arms, Mitsuko hurried off to where the cleanup crew was working. Tom could make out Nomura's white shirt in the gloom. A moment later, she was back. “He will follow us.”

“No, really,” insisted Tom. “It's too much trouble for all of you. And Billy should learn not to behave this way.”

Mitsuko smiled knowingly. “Tomorrow teach him,” she said. “I take care of him today.”

Her upturned eyes caught the fading glow of the sun. He seemed to feel the light from her eyes entering his own. There was nothing more for him to say.

Billy was quiet now. Mitsuko put him down and they proceeded to gather together the remaining scattered bits of paper. Tom thought of joining the men's cleanup crew, but they were stuffing the last of the trash into barrels and beginning to disperse into the darkness. Nomura saw him and came running over.

“We take Billy home now,” he said.

A few minutes later, Tom was driving up Rainier Avenue, Billy asleep in Mitsuko's arms in the back seat and Mr. and Mrs. Nomura following in their blue Buick. Tom glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw how tenderly Mitsuko looked down at the sleeping child.

“Before,” he said, breaking the silence. “I mean, when I was telling Billy to say goodbye …”

“Yes?”

“I didn't know what to call you.”

“I am Mitsuko.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said. “Billy can call you that.”

“Yes,” she said.

She was being no help at all.

“What I mean is, what is your last name?”

“Ah, I see. My name is Fukai.”

“Good. Then I can call you Mrs. Fukai.”

She said nothing in response.

“Is that all right?”

Still she said nothing. Billy moaned, and she began singing to him again in a near whisper.

Tom stopped for the traffic light at Dearborn. When he checked the rear-view mirror, he found Mitsuko's eyes looking into his. He averted his glance, but when he looked again, her eyes were still there.

“I am not Mrs. Fukai,” she said. “I am only Mitsuko. I have no husband.”

6

PASTOR TOM COULD HARDLY
wait for the Sunday school committee meeting to end. In the three days since the church picnic, Billy had been making life miserable both for him and for Mrs. Uchida, and he hoped that Mrs. Nomura could help them.

But on and on Mrs. Suzuki whined about textbook repairs, reading her report word-for-word and biting her lip whenever anyone asked her for a clarification. Finally, when it was over, Tom asked Mrs. Nomura to remain for a few minutes and showed her into his office.

Yoshiko Nomura eased her plump, little body into the yellowing wooden armchair facing his desk and looked at him expectantly.

“Now that I've asked you in here,” he began, “I'm not sure I know how to say what I want to say.”

“What is it, Pastor Tom?” she asked, her dark brows drawing together.

“Well, it's about your sister,” he replied, watching her reaction through his wire-rim glasses. “Is she busy? I mean, how is she spending her time in Seattle?”

“Well,” Mrs. Nomura began hesitantly, “we took her to see the Pike Place Market, of course …”

Tom smiled, wrinkling the leather of his cheek. “Wait. I'm not putting this very well. You know how much Billy seemed to like her.”

“Yes, and she likes Billy very much.”

“I could see that. She—what should I call her? She told me that her name is Fukai. Miss Fukai?”

“Well … yes, I suppose so. I never thought about what to call her here. She's Mitsuko—my baby sister, Mit-chan.”

“You pronounce it MEETS-ko?”

“That's fine, Pastor Tom.”

“You mentioned something about her having lost a child.” The words came out more easily than he had expected, but now he turned his gaze to the black canvas roofs of cars trundling past on Broadway.

“Yes,” she said uneasily.

“If you'd rather not talk about it, we can stop.”

“It's very painful, Pastor Tom.”

“Well, then—”

“But that's probably why I ought to talk about it. I don't know, I haven't even said anything to Reverend Hanamori. I shouldn't be like that. This is my church, after all.”

“Indeed, it is. But any time you're ready will be soon enough.” He watched her eyes grow moist even as she fought back the tears.

“I'm ready now,” she said. “I want to tell this to you.”

She emphasized the “you.”

Tom folded his hands on the big, square blotter that partially hid the stained and pitted desk.

“Mitsuko was married five years ago, in 1934, when she was twenty-two,” Mrs. Nomura began, her soft voice barely audible above the putt-putting of the cars outside. “It was an arranged marriage, of course. Almost all marriages in Japan are arranged.”

“Yes, I know,” Tom answered softly.

“Her husband was from a samurai family. Their ancestors had been warriors for many centuries, and the son went to the military academy. He was an officer, one of the elite. The Fukais—our family—were not poor, but we did not have that kind of history. My parents thought it was a great honor to have a daughter marry into such a family.”

“And your sister?”

“She did as she was told. In some ways, it was a very good match. Her husband was an extremely handsome man, and after one look at Mitsuko he insisted on marrying her. If it had been just the two of them, the marriage might have worked, but there was a lot of pressure on Mitsuko. Her husband was the family's only heir, and he had to have a son. Even better, he should have many sons to carry on the family's military tradition. Mitsuko was treated very well for six months, but when it became obvious that she was not going to have a baby right away, things started to change. The mother had always felt their family was too good for the Fukais, and her pride began to win out over the son's enthusiasm. Japanese mothers-in-law can be very cruel, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Tom said. “And they do not have to be living in Japan. I have had to counsel many families here.”

“It's a shame. Even with the love of Christ …”

“Were they a Christian family?”

“No, that was one of the problems. Like me, Mitsuko went to the mission school from the time she was a little girl. Our whole family embraced the Gospel when I was twelve. But when she did not have a baby, the mother-in-law began to scream at her every day to abandon Our Lord. She said it was because of the evil Western religion that Mitsuko could not give her a grandson. She used to beat her. She often wouldn't let her eat. Mitsuko practically turned into a skeleton.”

“And the son let his mother do these terrible things?”

“He was usually away with his regiment. He argued with his mother whenever he came home and he tried to protect Mitsuko, but then he was sent to the China front. That was in July, the year before last, when the fighting started. He came home for a few days' leave at the end of the year, and that is when Mitsuko finally became pregnant.”

“At least the beatings must have stopped,” Tom said.

“Well, the mother left her alone, but when the son came back from Nanking, he was not the same man.”

“You mean, he was one of those animals who raped the city?”

Mrs. Nomura sighed and hung her head. “But almost no one in Japan knew,” she said. “The censorship is so strict. Mitsuko only found out the truth about Nanking when she came here. Then she told me she pitied him for what he had done to her.”

“What did he do?”

“Well, by the time he came back, Mitsuko was five months pregnant, but he began to beat her.”

“I don't understand. He should have been thrilled.”

“It didn't seem to matter. All he did was drink and shout, and if she said anything, he beat her bloody.”

“My God!”

“The baby was born prematurely after one of those beatings. It was a boy. The family's dream had come true, but the baby was too weak to nurse. It died on the third day. Poor thing, it never tasted its mother's milk.”

Mrs. Nomura dabbed at her eyes.

“How she must have suffered! But at least she had proved she could give the family an heir.”

“Yes, that's exactly what her mother-in-law said. From now on they would treat her well, she promised. They would send her to a hot spring resort to regain her health. They would let her go to church. For two whole years they had not allowed her to worship Our Lord. But Mitsuko said no, it was enough. She would not stay in that house anymore. In Japan, a woman cannot divorce her husband, but she left his house and swore she would never go back. They had no choice but to divorce her.”

Pastor Tom asked, “Where did she go after that? What did she do?”

“All that time, Mitsuko had never told my family of her suffering, and they were shocked when she came home. In Japan, there is much shame when a daughter returns to the house of her parents. But they welcomed her with open arms. They showered her with love and understanding.”

“Praise the Lord!”

“They tried to make her whole again. Oh, Pastor Tom, I am so proud of my parents and my brothers! Their love for Mitsuko was such a great expression of their faith in God, a true witness of His love and justice. Their strength was in the Lord. In Him they found the strength to defy the hate surrounding them.”

“And all this happened just a year ago?”

“It's hard to believe, isn't it?”

“Lord, yes. You can see it: the light of Grace shines forth from her eyes. She is a true child of God.”

Mrs. Nomura's own eyes were shining.

“There, now,” said Pastor Tom. “Aren't you glad you shared your burden with me?”

“Oh, yes, yes, I am. Thank you, Pastor Tom.”

He reached across his desk and placed his hand atop hers. “It does my heart good to hear you say that. But now,” he said, sitting back in his chair, “after the suffering you have described to me, I'm almost embarrassed to tell you my problem.”

“I'd love to help, if I can,” she said.

Tom hesitated.

“Well, it's Billy. All he does now is ask for ‘Mitsu.' He can be a very stubborn little fellow when he wants to be. He's not satisfied with Mrs. Uchida anymore. Besides, he's too much for her: she never intended to put in such long hours.”

Mrs. Nomura looked at him, her black brows arching.

“I was wondering,” he went on, “if she has some free time … do you think she would be willing to do some babysitting? I'd be glad to pay her—”

“Oh, no, Pastor Tom—”

“Ah, that's too bad. I suppose she's very busy, but it wouldn't have to be more than a few hours a day.”

“Oh, no, what I mean is you should not think of paying. I'm sure she would be glad to stay with Billy. It would be good for her, instead of the consulate.”

“The consulate?”

“She has a kind of job there. It's not really a job. And she doesn't have to go very often.”

“I don't understand.”

“It's the only way we could arrange for her to stay here a long time. U.S. immigration laws are so harsh. She had to come as an employee of the consulate. My husband had to pay a lot of money …”

“A bribe?”

She nodded and lowered her eyes, but then she faced him with a look of determination. “When I heard what they did to Mit-chan, I was so angry! I wanted to save her. I wanted to bring her to this land of the Gospel. It took us a year to arrange, but we did it and I'm glad.”

“I'm sure the Lord forgives you,” said Tom. “He knows what was in your heart.”

“Yes. I believe that, Pastor Tom. I really do. And it's working. She has been here only three weeks, and I can see the difference already. She wasn't ready to meet anyone at first, but now she loves the church and is looking forward to the next service.”

“Wonderful. I hope we see her often. And,” he added, smiling broadly, “I hope that we can arrange for her to spend some time with Billy.”

“Yes, I'll talk to her about it as soon as I get home.”

Ah, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee.

Even before he opened his eyes, Tom Morton knew that this was going to be a special day. What a luxury to have a full night of unbroken sleep! Sarah had taken care of Billy during the night, and now she was playing quietly with him in the—

Sarah?!

He sat bolt upright in bed, and a chill ran through him. Sarah was dead. The thought struck him like a boulder crashing down a mountainside.

But, undeniably, he could smell fresh coffee. And he could hear Billy jabbering and laughing down the hall.

Mitsuko must have made the coffee. In less than a month she had gone from part-time to full-time baby-sitter to live-in governess. And now she was also turning into a housekeeper, unless Billy had suddenly learned how to use a percolator.

Tom rose and showered. By the time he came out to the kitchen, his hair still wet and shirt sticking slightly to his hurriedly dried back, Mitsuko was at the range, frying eggs and bacon. She wore a dark blue apron, and her rich hair was fastened at the back of her head in a swirl.

“Good morning,” he said.

Mitsuko bowed slightly, smiling.

“You really don't have to be doing that,” he said. Her full lips moved with the struggle to suppress a smile.

“Daddy, Daddy!” shouted Billy, running over to him and waving a wooden cross. “Tumble! Tumble!”

Mitsuko pronounced the word for Billy slowly and clearly: “
Tom-bo. Ta-ke-tom-bo
.”

“Tombo! Fly tombo!” Billy shouted, handing the thing to his father.

The flimsy object, somewhat larger than Tom's outstretched hand, was shaped more like a T than a cross. The upright member was a kind of narrow skewer and it was fastened to a flatter, twisted piece of the same material: bamboo, probably, judging from the straight lines of the grain.

“Fly tombo,” said Billy.

“Fly?” asked Tom, looking at Mitsuko. Wiping her hands on her apron, she approached Tom and took the “tombo” from his hand. She pressed the skewer-like part between her palms and gave one quick rub. The T flew up to the ceiling, where it struck and fell to the floor.

“Wheeee!” screamed Billy, handing the thing to Tom again. “Fly tombo!” Tom tried to duplicate Mitsuko's method, but the crosspiece smacked him in the wrist. The second try caught him in the thumb, but the third sent the “tombo” to the ceiling and the floor again.

“Fly tombo!”

“You try it,” said Tom. “I have to eat breakfast.” But the simple maneuver was still too much for Billy.

“I am sorry,” apologized Mitsuko. “I should have maked something for his age.”

“You made it?”

She nodded, smiling. “I mean ‘made.'”

“Well thank you, Mitsuko, thank you very much. I didn't mean to be correcting your English.”

He looked more closely at the simple toy. The curved propeller had been carved with great precision and fitted exactly to the vertical shaft.