Red Berries, White Clouds, Blue Sky (12 page)

“For Carl,” Tomi said. “And for Wilson. And for you, too, Helen. We made it for all of you. To make you happy.”

The Itanos left then, because they had their own presents to open. Roy closed the Wakasas’ door behind them, but seconds later, Helen opened it and called, “Wait.”

Tomi had the awful feeling that Helen was going to tell them to take back the tree. She stopped and turned
toward Helen.

“Wait up,” Helen called, and hurried down the hall to the Itanos. “I just wanted to say …” She stopped a moment, then smiled. “I just wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

1944 | CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE TALLGRASS SKY QUILT

MOM’S
quilting class worked almost every Saturday to complete their first squares. They sewed them together, then made a fabric sandwich of quilt top and back with a batting in between. The batting was fluffy cotton, which would make the quilt warm. The “sandwich” was tacked to an oblong wooden frame that hung from the ceiling of the craft room. The frame was lowered when the women worked on it, then raised to the ceiling for storage.

They were just sitting down around the frame one Saturday in January, 1944, when Mrs. Hayashi rushed in. “I have received the cotton from San Francisco. It came this morning.” She untied the package and spread the pieces of fabric over the quilt in the frame. “It is only cotton, not very important,” she said. Like other Japanese women, she
was modest and did not want the others to think her gift was valuable or that she was bragging. But she beamed as she ran her hands over the beautiful blue material.

“Such lovely fabric,” Mom said, picking up a length of material and inspecting it. Even Tomi, who still didn’t care about sewing, held her breath as she looked at the beautiful pieces of cloth. Many were a bright indigo blue, but some were faded, others mended. Most were plain, but a few were woven with stripes or plaids. “I believe these were made by hand, not machine,” Mom said.

The women took the cloth between their fingers and felt it. They talked about the colors and designs.

“It is only for everyday clothes, mostly for people on farms or in the mountains. Nobody wants such plain stuff,” Mrs. Hayashi told them. “Not important,” she said again.

“
We
want it,” Mom told her. “It will make a beautiful quilt, and because the cloth is heavy, it will be warm. A good thing for this camp.”

“Why don’t you use the material for the ‘tank quilt,’ instead of the quilt you just made. Everyone will want to buy a raffle ticket to win such a beautiful quilt,” Tomi interrupted.

“A fine idea,” a woman said. “The women in Ellis can
make good quilts, maybe better than the one we just finished. But the tank quilt will be different, because women in Ellis have never seen this fabric. Maybe those women will buy our raffle tickets, and we can make even more money for our tank.”

Mrs. Hayashi spoke out in her quiet voice. “Are we still hoping to buy a tank? Maybe our money should go to our own young men who are joining the army. They are very brave, and we must support them.” Although the government had forced them to relocate, the young Japanese men in the camps were now expected to join the army. They were forming a special unit—the 442nd Infantry. She thought a moment. “I know, we will buy
them
a tank.”

“Such a good idea,” Mom said. Then she ran her hand over the pieces of blue again, thinking. “This fabric is too thick to be cut into tiny pieces. We must design a special quilt for it.”

“We could use a Japanese design,” a woman suggested.

“No, it must be an American quilt—American like us,” Mom told her, and the women nodded.

The quilters discussed patterns but could not make up their minds. Finally, one said she knew a woman in the camp who was an artist. She would ask her to make a
design. The women agreed that was a good idea.

The following week, the artist, whose name was Ethel, came to the quilting class. She brought drawings for the quilt. Most American quilts were made up of squares and triangles and rectangles pieced together in a pattern. Ethel’s design was abstract, a series of strips of different sizes and shapes. The women smiled when they saw it.

“The design is the sky over the camp late in the afternoon, when it turns so many shades of blue. See, one of the pieces of fabric had a bit of red in it, just the color of sunset.” Ethel said. “When it is finished, I will embroider it with lines of silver-white thread, like edges of clouds,” Ethel continued. “We will call it ‘Tallgrass Sky.’ ”

“Oh,” the women said together, because they knew such thread was expensive and impossible to buy in the camp. Ethel must have brought it with her.

“Such a quilt will be too pretty to put on a bed,” someone said.

“Then it will be a wall hanging, a piece of art,” Mrs. Hayashi told her. “A very special piece, so we must
announce the winner at a very special event.”

“A Bon Odori,” one of the women said, and the others nodded their agreement. Bon Odori was a festival held in the summer. Women danced in their blue-and-white cotton
yu kata
, as summer kimonos were called, while girls wore colorful silk. Tomi remembered Mom saying once that immigrants brought their traditions with them when they came to the United States, that America was made up of cultures from all over the world. You could still be an American and celebrate Bon Odori.

“But if it is to be a quilt for our American army, shouldn’t the winner be announced at an American event?” Mom asked.

“Since it will have red, white, and blue in it, how about Fourth of July?” Tomi blurted out.

“That would be perfect,” Mom said. “We will have almost six months until July 4, so there will be time to finish the quilt. And to sell the tickets. The camp newspaper has agreed to print tickets for us. We will each take a few and see if we can sell them.”

Tomi and Ruth were the best ticket sellers that spring. Each day, they made the rounds of the tables in the mess halls, selling raffle tickets. They sold so many that people held up their hands or shook their heads when they saw the two girls approach. “I already bought one,” they’d say.

“I guess we’re done,” Ruth told Tomi one evening after they had sold only two tickets at supper. “Everybody already has them.”

Tomi thought that over. “Everyone in the
camp
has a ticket, but what about the people in Ellis? Remember what the lady said in the quilt class. People in Ellis don’t make quilts like ours. I bet we could sell a bunch of tickets in Ellis.”

“I don’t know. Do you think they would want to win a quilt made by ladies in the camp?”

“Sure, since a ticket costs only a nickel.”

Ruth wasn’t so confident, but she agreed to go into town with Tomi and find out.

The following Saturday, the two girls got passes and walked out of the Tallgrass gate, past the guards, who waved at them, and down the dirt road to town. They had been to Ellis before. Sometimes they ran errands for their mothers, purchasing things that weren’t available in the
camp store. At first, people hadn’t wanted the Japanese in town. There’d even been “No Japs” signs like the ones Tomi had seen in California. But they were taken down after Ellis residents got to know the evacuees. Some of the Tallgrass men worked on the sugar beet farms. Not many of the townspeople paid attention to the Japanese anymore. But a few still didn’t want them around.

Tomi felt self-conscious as she reached Ellis. A woman standing on a porch with her hands on her hips stared at the two girls but didn’t say anything. A man drove his car too close to them, and they jumped. He laughed as he drove on. They stopped first at a hardware store, where a girl about their age smiled at them. Then she looked cautiously at the door to a back room. “You can’t come in here. I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “If my father sees you—”

“We’re selling raffle tickets for a quilt, only five cents,” Tomi said. “It’s a beautiful quilt, made by the ladies at Tallgrass.”

“You can’t stay,” the girl whispered.

“Who’s out there, Betty Joyce? What are you whispering about?” came a man’s voice from the room.

“Two girls. We don’t have what they want. They’re
leaving,” she called, making scooting motions with her hands at Tomi and Ruth.

“But—” Ruth began.

Tomi took her friend’s hand and turned around. But she was not fast enough. A mean-looking man came through the doorway. His face turned red and he scowled when he saw the two girls. “Get!” he yelled at them. “We don’t allow your kind in here. Where’s that sign, Betty Joyce?”

“I’m sorry,” Betty Joyce whispered as she followed Tomi and Ruth to the door. She picked up a sign that was lying face down on the floor. The sign said “No Japs” in big black letters. Tomi wondered if Betty Joyce had taken it out of the window on purpose.

“I’d buy a ticket if I had a nickel. I don’t hate you,” Betty Joyce told Tomi and Ruth, as she put the sign in the window, hiding it behind a display of machine parts.

“It’s okay. I don’t hate you, either,” Tomi told her.

Tomi and Ruth were silent as they walked down the street. Maybe trying to sell tickets in Ellis hadn’t been such a good idea. Still, Tomi wasn’t ready to give up. When they reached the drugstore, Tomi took a deep breath and looked at Ruth. “Let’s go,” she said.

“What do you want?” a man behind the counter asked.
He wasn’t as mean as the man in the hardware store, but he wasn’t friendly, either. Maybe the drugstore had one of those ugly signs, too, Tomi thought.

“We’re selling raffle tickets for a beautiful blue quilt the ladies at Tallgrass are making,” Tomi said. “They’re only five cents.”

The man sniffed. “And where’s the money going? To help the Japs?”

“It will go to the 442nd Infantry,” Ruth told him.

“That’s an American division,” Tomi added.

“It’s made up of Japs,” the man said. “Bet you they’re a bunch of cowards. You’re not selling any tickets in here. Go on with you.”

Coming into Ellis had been a mistake, Tomi thought. She bit her lip and took Ruth’s hand. But just then, a boy sitting at a table near the soda fountain turned around. “I’ll buy a ticket,” he said, standing up. He was Dennis, the Boy Scout who had visited Tomi’s class the year before. “Hi, Tomi. What kind of quilt are you raffling off?”