Bridge of Scarlet Leaves (18 page)
Read Bridge of Scarlet Leaves Online
Authors: Kristina McMorris
28
L
ane didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. He walked through the eerie stillness, his tweed cap pulled low, and turned from San Pedro Street onto First. Shadows spread over the block like an almighty hand. The hustle and bustle of pedestrians, the scent of udon broth
,
the ringing of bicycles and hollers of beckoning vendors—all were gone. Little Tokyo had been gutted.
ane didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. He walked through the eerie stillness, his tweed cap pulled low, and turned from San Pedro Street onto First. Shadows spread over the block like an almighty hand. The hustle and bustle of pedestrians, the scent of udon broth
,
the ringing of bicycles and hollers of beckoning vendors—all were gone. Little Tokyo had been gutted.
Signs on building exteriors and in every window told a story.
Going out of business. Everything half price. For sale. Sold. Closed. We hope to serve you again. I am an American.
Going out of business. Everything half price. For sale. Sold. Closed. We hope to serve you again. I am an American.
For as long as Lane could remember, he had preferred to shop elsewhere. He’d chosen Sid’s Drugstore over Nippon Pharmacy, Leaders Barbershop over Nakamura’s. He had compiled reasons for the superiority of each. But perhaps the real basis of his favoritism had stemmed from nothing more than the quality implied by their “all-American” names.
Judging by the streets around him, a ghost town of his heritage, his view hadn’t been unique. Thankfully, his father wasn’t here to see this.
Just then, a silhouette moved in Ginza Market. Lane looked closer. Nobody there. A mere reflection from the retreating sun. Where would he find a snack for Emma?
He had ventured out of the Buddhist temple, his family’s temporary shelter, on an errand for his sister. Her eyes had told him she wanted to tag along but understood that remaining with their mother took priority.
Mochi
cakes, Emma had requested. Aoyagi Confectionery made her favorite of the glutinous rice balls filled with sweet red beans. He’d agreed, wanting to distract her from concerns over their destination, some camp in the state’s eastern desert. Rumors of the place had circled like mosquitoes, nipping away, swelling fears of deportations and forced farm labor. They described roving coyotes and scorpion infestations, families separated and traded for American POWs. Mass executions if Japan invaded the mainland. All preposterous.
cakes, Emma had requested. Aoyagi Confectionery made her favorite of the glutinous rice balls filled with sweet red beans. He’d agreed, wanting to distract her from concerns over their destination, some camp in the state’s eastern desert. Rumors of the place had circled like mosquitoes, nipping away, swelling fears of deportations and forced farm labor. They described roving coyotes and scorpion infestations, families separated and traded for American POWs. Mass executions if Japan invaded the mainland. All preposterous.
Or not.
Propelled by the promise to his sister, he continued down the empty street. He stepped on scraps from wooden crates. He followed the trail of crinkled flyers. The same proclamations were posted on utility poles.
INSTRUCTIONS TO ALL PERSONS OF JAPANESE ANCESTRY
Forcing the exodus of an entire race from an area had become disturbingly efficient. The pages detailed where and when to report, what they were and weren’t permitted to pack.
At least Lane’s family didn’t have to worry about the limitation of bringing only what they could carry; that’s all they had left. Little more than essentials remained after shedding items for their long bus ride back to California. Sunny Southern Cal, with its sandy beaches and lush palm trees. Where imagination bloomed and hope streamed in the sunlight.
Of course, none of these could be found in the confines of the temple’s basement. In a time not so far back, Lane’s mother would have griped plenty over their creaky squeezed-in cots, the mix of body odors from strangers varied in caste. But not now. And her silence, outside of one- or two-word answers, bothered him more than her complaining ever could.
Lane paused to review his surroundings. His feet had steered him to the last place he would have chosen. Kitty-corner from Kern’s Tailoring. Miles of aimless walking hadn’t been aimless after all. He wasn’t wearing his watch—he’d hawked that too—but was certain the lights inside were shining for Bea. Maddie would be home, making supper for herself and TJ. Meat loaf and creamed corn, or a chicken casserole with Green Goddess Salad. Those were the dishes she had made when Lane used to join them.
At her absence now, disappointment flowed through him, but also relief. Seeing her would only make matters worse. Only tempt him to retract the lie he had told her.
“Holy Toledo. I don’t believe my eyes!”
The familiar voice swung Lane around. In a khaki Army uniform, Dewey Owens was exiting Canter Brother’s Deli. The last contact from the guy had been a brief but supportive note. He’d mailed it with Lane’s belongings from the dorm.
“Good to see you.” Lane smiled and accepted an outstretched hand. A friendly face was never so welcome.
“I can’t believe you’re in town. Thought you and your family were zooming around the country.” Dewey made it sound as though they had been off on a whirlwind vacation, a road trip on a whim.
Lane was trying for a simplified answer when two GIs emerged from the restaurant. They looked on with unreadable expressions.
“Fellas! Let me introduce you.” Dewey sped through their names, and all exchanged handshakes and nice-to-meet-yous. Then the two soldiers backed up a few paces, lighting their Lucky Strikes. Lane would like to think they were merely giving the old roommates space to catch up, but who knew anymore?
“What’re you doing out here tonight?” Dewey asked.
“I was just looking in on a friend.” Lane’s chin inadvertently motioned toward the tailor shop, causing Dewey’s eyes to follow. No chance taking the gesture back. He tried distracting with small talk, but the guy wasn’t listening.
“So
that’s
the dream girl... .”Dewey grinned, sly as an alley cat. Leave it to him to make a crack about ogling Beatrice. Lane went to sling a retort—the guy’s colorful love life had produced an ample amount of dirt—until he glimpsed the store window. There, Maddie appeared inside. She was hanging garments on a wall hook, balancing the fabric, picking off lint. His breath hitched at the sway of her auburn hair, the memory of feeling the silky strands on his skin.
that’s
the dream girl... .”Dewey grinned, sly as an alley cat. Leave it to him to make a crack about ogling Beatrice. Lane went to sling a retort—the guy’s colorful love life had produced an ample amount of dirt—until he glimpsed the store window. There, Maddie appeared inside. She was hanging garments on a wall hook, balancing the fabric, picking off lint. His breath hitched at the sway of her auburn hair, the memory of feeling the silky strands on his skin.
But then he recalled what had happened since, that those times were over, and ... that he’d never told Dewey about their courtship.
“How did you know?”
“About Maddie?”
Lane nodded.
“I was your roommate for almost four years, buddy. You think I’m
that
oblivious?” He gave Lane’s upper arm a pat. “Do I get to meet her or what?”
that
oblivious?” He gave Lane’s upper arm a pat. “Do I get to meet her or what?”
Lane peered at the woman behind the glass. “She doesn’t know I’m in town,” he said. “It’s better that way.” Slowly, he tore his focus from her. “So you’re an Army man, huh?”
Dewey shrugged. “Put me in Intelligence, if you can believe it.”
“And they still expect us to win?”
“Guess they were smart enough not to give me live ammo.”
Lane smiled, and for an instant, he envisioned himself in the same uniform—but only an instant. Even if the U.S. military weren’t turning away Nisei, his patriotism had depleted too much to volunteer.
“Owens, we’re gonna split,” said one of the soldiers, flicking his cigarette butt onto the sidewalk.
“I’m coming.” Dewey turned to Lane. “We’re hitting some bars on Wilshire. Come out with us.”
Lane considered the invitation. He appreciated any enticement to draw him from the temptation across the street. Then he spied a policeman in the distance meandering in their direction, and the invisible bars of curfew and travel restrictions returned.
“Actually, I’d better get back. We have to report to St. Timothy’s by nine in the morning for evacuation. So ...”
Dewey’s face tightened, a mixture of sympathy and wanting to beat a fistful of sense into someone. But he simply said, “Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” Lane offered with equal sincerity.
They shook hands good-bye, then Dewey followed his friends around the bend.
Lane slid his hands into his jacket pockets. He glanced at the storefront once more, just as Maddie clicked off the first set of lights. Closing time. Before she turned off the second, he raised his collar around his ears and headed toward the temple. Empty-handed, nothing for Emma. Another promise broken.
29
E
ngines awoke in the distance, a stagger of roars that cinched Maddie’s throat with panic. Her pace doubled in speed. Her leather heels clicked a staccato rhythm on the city sidewalk. She forced air in and out, in and out, against the burn crawling up the walls of her lungs.
ngines awoke in the distance, a stagger of roars that cinched Maddie’s throat with panic. Her pace doubled in speed. Her leather heels clicked a staccato rhythm on the city sidewalk. She forced air in and out, in and out, against the burn crawling up the walls of her lungs.
Nine o’clock, that’s what Lane’s roommate had said when the operator connected his call that morning. Told her that his conscience wouldn’t let him ship off without at least telling her Lane was in town, but if she wanted to see him, she had until nine o’clock.
She’d raced out the door. No time to think.
At last, she was almost there....
A young soldier stood up ahead. He hugged his bayonet-fixed rifle across his chest, his stance undoubtedly fresh from Army basic. He stared hard into the sky, as if reading his mission etched in the ribbon of clouds.
The enemy, have to protect our country from the enemy.
The enemy, have to protect our country from the enemy.
The thought curled Maddie’s fingers.
In a glance briefer than a blink, the GI sized her up, her ivory skin an armor of presumed innocence. She swerved around him, not missing a beat. To her left, personal effects awaited transit in a snaking queue. Cribs and ironing boards, labeled trunks and boxes. Their tags dangled in the spring sun.
Around the corner, evacuees were amassed before the steepled church. Red Cross volunteers handed out coffee.
“Lane! Where are you?” Her words died in the bedlam, smothered by a baby’s cry, a rumbling jeep, a little girl’s hysterics.
“But I don’t want to go,” the girl shrieked, face stained red. “Mommy, I want to stay with
you!
” Tears streamed from the slanted eyes that cursed the child, dripping trails down the puffy sleeves of her lilac dress. Two nuns pried her fingers from the Caucasian woman’s arms and guided the youngster toward the bus.
you!
” Tears streamed from the slanted eyes that cursed the child, dripping trails down the puffy sleeves of her lilac dress. Two nuns pried her fingers from the Caucasian woman’s arms and guided the youngster toward the bus.
“Everything will be fine, pumpkin,” the mother choked out against a sob. “Mommy and Daddy will come see you soon.” A suited man beside her added, “You be a good girl, now.” His Anglo features contorted in despair as he limply waved.
A reporter snapped a photo.
Who knew a piece of paper could carry so much power? One presidential order and an orphan could lose another family; one signed petition and marriage vows could be unsaid. Thank God she hadn’t mailed the papers yet. Stamped and sealed, but not mailed.
Maddie scanned the faces around her, their features similar to Lane’s, but none as flawless. None bearing the deep beauty of his eyes, his smile.
“Lane!” she shouted louder. The trio of chartered buses was filling. Within minutes, he would be gone.
“Excuse me, miss. May I help you?” A priest touched her arm. His wrinkled face exuded warmth that penetrated the morning chill.
“Moritomos—I have to find them.” Exhaust fumes invaded the air, causing her to cough.
He patted her back. “Now, now, dear. Let’s see what we can do.” They wove through the crowd, her gaze zipping from one figure to the next. Beige identity tags hung from lapels, around buttons. Branded in their Sunday best like a herd of cattle.
“Sergeant,” the priest called out. He stepped up to a bulky Army man in the midst of lecturing two privates. “Sergeant,” he tried again, “I hate to interrupt, but ...”
“Hold your water,” the guy barked, before turning and noting the source. His shoulders lowered. “Sorry, Father. What is it you need?”
“This young lady, here, she’s trying to locate a particular family.”
“The Moritomos,” Maddie cut in.
The sergeant sighed heavily as he lifted his clipboard. He flipped forward several pages and began his search through the list. With the top of his pen, he scratched his head beneath his helmet. He blew out another sigh.
This was taking too long.
Maddie leaned in, trying to see the smudged names herself.
Maeda ... Matsuda ... Minami ... Miyamoto ...
Maeda ... Matsuda ... Minami ... Miyamoto ...
The sergeant turned to the next page and looked up. “What’s that name again?”
She fought to keep her composure. “Moritomo. Lane Moritomo.”
A loud hiss shot from behind. The first bus was pulling away, followed by the next. Another hiss and the doors slammed closed on the last Greyhound in line. The crowd launched into waves of farewells and see-you-soons, whenever, wherever that might be.
“Maddie.” A muffled voice barely met her ears. It came again, stronger. “Maddie, over here!” Someone yanked open a dusty windowpane on the remaining bus. It was Lane, reaching across seated passengers to see her.
She wasn’t too late!
Calling his name, she bumped through elbows to get to the blue-and-white striped transport. She scrambled for his hand until their grips linked, his skin soft as a glove. When a smile slid across his face, all else paled to a haze. Time reversed, back to happier days, before the ground had crumbled on a fault line, dividing their world in two.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” he implored, “at the diner... .”
“I know,” she assured him, for it was a truth she had carried inside. Still, her heart warmed from the confirmation in his eyes.
Then the bus began to move.
“No matter what happens, Maddie, know that I’ll always love you.”
She tightened her grasp, refusing to let go. “I’ll be waiting. However long it takes.”
On the balls of her feet she hastened her stride. She struggled to keep up, but the wheels were spinning too fast. Against her silent pleas, their connection wouldn’t hold and his fingers slipped beyond reach.
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