Sophie and the Rising Sun (12 page)
Read Sophie and the Rising Sun Online
Authors: Augusta Trobaugh
Tags: #Romance, #Literary, #General, #Historical, #Fiction
When at last Sophie sighed, stood up, and brushed the grass from her skirt, he felt that he would die on the spot. But he was careful not to let his face show his agony.
“Promise me you will be careful,” Sophie said, looking full into his eyes.
“I will be careful,” he promised, bowing.
“And promise me that you’ll come next Sunday,” she added.
He hesitated for a moment, and then he said, “I will come, if I am able.” And he did not add,
But I will not be able, for I will be protecting Miss Anne and you—my dear Sophie—in the only way I am able—by going far away.
And the unspoken words tightened his throat.
Sophie nearly reached out to take his hand—not by design, but only because it seemed to be such a natural thing to do. But at the same instant, she shunned the impulse.
Mutely, Mr. Oto noticed the slight movement of her hand toward him and its immediate retreat. And he found it to be a completely endearing gesture that almost tore a sob from him.
He knew that their last Sunday together would be a memory for him to carry in his heart for the rest of his life. It glowed from his chest and radiated upward to his eyes, so that all of the colors of the river and the trees and the sky seemed more brilliant than he had ever seen them before.
And her face in the center of all the colors. Her glorious, beautiful, wounded face!
So that when she turned and left, he watched her openly, watched as she turned and lifted a hand toward him before she disappeared.
He stayed by the river for a long time, and when at last he started to return to Miss Anne’s house, he took a long and careful route, so that he would not be seen by any of the townspeople.
Sophie!
When Mr. Oto returned
to his gardener’s cottage that day, there was a sheet of paper in the seat of his chair. It had words scrawled on it: GO AWAY, DIRTY JAP!
Shaking, he tore up the paper; then he bathed thoroughly and dressed in his best clothes, before he walked across the garden toward Miss Anne’s back door.
When Mr. Oto came up on the back porch, he noticed the gallon-size cans of begonias that he was to plant, and at the same time, he heard Miss Anne on the phone in her hallway.
“Of
course
he’s Chinese,” she was saying. “You don’t think I would have him on my place if I thought he was one of
them
, do you? One of those Japs?”
In what was almost a dreamlike state, Mr. Oto stood on Miss Anne’s porch, stunned and angered at the same time. Could this, then, be what the crane had come for? To remind him of his heritage? To warn him to protect Miss Anne?
“Yes, well I’ll talk with you tomorrow,” Miss Anne was saying into the receiver, and when he heard her hang up, he swallowed hard and knocked on the screen door.
When Miss Anne appeared, he could see most clearly the remnants of the overheard conversation still on her face. For even his dear Miss Anne looked at him differently than she had before Pearl Harbor. And now, knowing what he had to tell her—what he respected her far too much to withhold from her any longer—he felt his heart throbbing ominously beneath the clean shirt.
“You startled me!” Miss Anne said from the other side of the screen. “And where have you been, anyway? I told you to stay out of sight, and you’ve been gone somewhere almost all day long!”
“I know. I am sorry.” Then he added, “Please, may I come in and speak with you?” He phrased his honest question so that, as he intended, she would be reminded of the full authority she had over whether or not he would be allowed to enter her house. Because, after all, everything was different now.
“Yes, come in,” she said, after some hesitation. “I’m sorry. I have something on my mind.’’
‘‘I know,’’ he said as he entered the kitchen. He remained standing beside the sink while Miss Anne pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. Clearly preoccupied, she made no gesture for him to be seated.
“What is it you need to talk about?” she asked.
Now, it was his turn to hesitate. “I know that people are being critical of you for letting me stay here,” he said.
Miss Anne looked up at him, surprised that he knew. “What I do is none of their business,” she snapped, arguing more with herself than stating a fact.
“But I have deceived you,” he said simply, and at his words, Miss Anne stood, facing him squarely and with startled eyes.
“Exactly how have you deceived me, Mr. Oto?” Her voice was low and there was a faint glitter of something like fear in her eyes.
Dear God,
she was thinking,
Do I know this man? Do I really know him?
“My family...” he began, “My family is not from China, as I have allowed you to believe.’’
“Where are they from?’’
“They are all in California, as I told you. But my father—long ago—came to this country from Japan.’’
“You’re Japanese?” her eyebrows shot up in alarm.
“No, Miss Anne,” he said in a soothing tone. “I am American. I was born in this country.’’
“But your people came from Japan?’’
“My father came from Japan. That is true.’’
‘‘Then why did you go on letting everyone think you were Chinese?”
“I never said that, Miss Anne.” His tone was only slightly defensive.
“But
I
did, and you didn’t bother to correct me,” she argued.
“I apologize for that,” Mr. Oto said simply. “I didn’t want to talk about my past, as that may have led to more questions than I was prepared to answer.” And before he could stop himself, he bowed.
“Stop that!” Miss Anne spoke to him in a tone she had never used with him before. “I can’t believe it!” she muttered, and sank back into the chair. “You... Japanese! One of them!’’
“No, Miss Anne,” he persisted. “I am American. I am just as American as you are.”
At that, he drew her full rage. “As American as
I
am?” she sputtered. “I’ll have you know that I am a member of the DAR!” But his puzzled expression told her that he didn’t know what that meant.
“The Daughters of the American Revolution.” She released the words like cannonballs. “That means that I am descended from a true patriot who fought for the independence of this country. Fought against England for it.’’
“That is very honorable, Miss Anne,” he said.
“Are you making fun of me?” she shot back at him.
“No, Miss Anne,” Mr. Oto protested quickly. “I meant only the greatest respect for you and for your ancestor. I have never spoken to you with anything but respect, and respect is all I mean now.’’
She studied him for a long moment. “That’s true, what you say,” she finally conceded. “You have never spoken to me except with respect.’’
“I am the same man now,” he said carefully, “as I was before Pearl Harbor.’’
“But you are Japanese?” she questioned.
“No, Miss Anne,” he answered in the same gentle voice. “American.’’
“What about your father?’’
“My father is my father,” he said simply. “I do not know anything about war.
And I do not know anything about politics. I know only about flowers. And about friends.’’
“This is terrible,” Miss Anne said, as if she were speaking only to herself. Then she looked at him intently. “What will happen if people find out?’
“I know that some already suspect it, and I am very afraid—for you.’’
“Afraid for me?” she asked incredulously. “Why on earth would you be afraid for me?”
“People in the town will blame you. There are some who think I am not Chinese, and they will not stop until they cause trouble more for you than for me. I can always go away to another place. But you must live here.”
And,
he was thinking,
Sophie must live here also
. And he must not hurt her, no matter what the cost to himself.
“I must go away,” he said. “Back to my family. And I must go now, before I cause trouble for you.’’
“
No!
’’ Miss Anne’s voice was emphatic. Still, she recognized some wisdom in what Mr. Oto said. For after all, she would, indeed, be severely ostracized... perhaps even called a traitor—
Dear Lord —
for harboring a Japanese, even if he was an American.
“Please do not worry,” Mr. Oto said. “I will find a way to get there.’’
Long minutes of silence then, with Miss Anne looking at Mr. Oto while he gazed at his shoes. Maybe it would be better to do as he had done before—get on a bus and go away. To protect Miss Anne. Then she could honestly say that he was gone.
But would taking a bus still be possible? Only two years ago, people merely regarded him with a mild interest. Now, he would attract deep suspicion and maybe even open hatred. For although he was an American, his face and his body bore the image of the Enemy.
Miss Anne’s voice interrupted his thinking. “You can’t go away,” she said simply. “I can’t bear not knowing what has happened to you.” Then she paused and cleared her throat. “And besides, you’d attract too much attention. We’ll have to hide you, that’s what we’ll do. Tell everyone you’ve gone far away... Canada, maybe. Yes. Tell them you have family in Canada, and you are Chinese. That will do it. For both of us,” she added. “That way, I can say you’re gone—and it will be the truth.’’
Mr. Oto knew instantly that she was right. It was the only way to save them both, but especially to save her. For if he were arrested, word could somehow get back to Salty Creek, and Miss Anne would be called an enemy sympathizer, even if no one had found the letter he wrote to his father.
Miss Anne was right. Hiding was the only answer for them. But where?
“You know, I may just have an answer,” Miss Anne said, as if she had looked into his mind and seen the question. “Long years ago, my papa had a fishing cabin about three miles below the salt marsh. It’s way back in the brush, and I own the property, so I know no one’s been using it. That would be a place where we could hide you and no one would ever know. We’ll have to be careful, of course.’’
‘‘We.’’ Mr. Oto whispered the word.
“
We
,” Miss Anne said emphatically.
Miss Anne had been struck with two simple statements he had made to her: first and foremost, that he was an American; and, too, that he was the same man that day as he had been for the two years he had lived in her gardener’s cottage and worked for her.
So that settled it, as far as she was concerned, and she stood up. “You go gather your things, and I’ll put some canned goods and bottles of drinking water in a box—there isn’t any fresh water down there. We’ll leave before dawn, so no one will see us go. And...’’—Miss Anne was clearly rising almost happily to the challenge of the task before her—“I’ll drive on over to Brunswick right after I drop you off at Papa’s cabin. That way, when people ask, I can tell them that I took you over there to catch a more direct bus to Canada.”
“If anyone asks,” Mr. Oto added, “tell them you made me leave because I was a Jap.” His tongue almost faltered on the word. “That will help to protect you, and you and I will know the truth.”
