When the Cherry Blossoms Fell (2 page)

Eiko lifted the small iron teapot from its stand. She poured pale green tea into two small blue bowls and handed one to her sister.

“When do you expect Sam back?” Sadie asked.

“He will be home soon enough,” Eiko replied confidently.

Michiko jumped up. “He has to be home tonight,” she insisted. “Tomorrow is my birthday.”

“That's right,” Sadie said with a smile, “nine years old tomorrow.” She glanced at the small stack of gifts on top of the piano. “I hope we don't have to wait until your father gets home before we open your presents.”

“He's just a little late,” Michiko's mother announced. “It's so rainy. The roads can be bad.”

“That's not all that's bad out there,” Sadie declared. She put her teacup down and leaned across the table. “Did you know . . .?”

Eiko flashed her a warning look. “Not now, Sadie,” she said. She nodded in the direction of the children.
Then she smiled at Michiko. “He will be here in time.”

Michiko entertained Hiro with the toy monkey her father had brought her from his last trip. After she wound the key in its metal back, the monkey hopped about on his front feet and curly tail. He banged his two cymbals together. Each time they clashed, the small bell on his tiny red hat shook and tinkled. Hiro's eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands.

Sadie flipped through a magazine as the clock on the wall ticked. No one spoke until the shrill ring of the phone broke the silence.

Michiko watched as her mother held the receiver to her ear. She spoke only once. Her face paled as she listened. Then she lowered the receiver, almost missing the two large claws that held it in place. Michiko watched her sink onto the chesterfield beside her sister.

Something was wrong. Instinctively, Michiko pulled Hiro onto her lap.

Sadie looked up from her magazine. “What's going on?” Seeing her sister's face, she threw the magazine on the floor.

Eiko's eyes brimmed with tears. She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked back and forth.

“What's happened?” Sadie asked as she put her arms around her sister. “What's wrong?” Her eyes pleaded for an answer.

Finally Eiko mumbled a few words. Sadie had to lean in close to hear.

“What?” Sadie exclaimed shrilly and sat bolt upright. “Sam is in jail?”

Sadie cancelled Michiko's birthday party. Strangers filled their home instead of her school friends, and all they talked about was the arrest. Eiko served everyone tea, and they ate all the
manju
that was supposed to be for the party. Michiko watched and listened. Her Japanese wasn't good enough to understand everything that was said. Every now and then, her mother put down the teapot and stared off into space.

At the end of the day, the small stack of presents on top of the piano remained unopened.

That night, Eiko sat on Michiko's bed studying her fingers. Michiko pushed her storybook across the bedspread and nudged her mother with it. Eiko picked up the book and put it on her lap. The pages fell open.

“Don't read that one,” Michiko whispered. “I'm saving that one for Father.” She flipped the pages forward. “Read this one instead.”

Her mother stood up, paying no attention. The book fell from her lap to the floor. Instead of picking it up, she went to the window and adjusted the drapes.

“It's too late for me to leave,” Sadie announced, strolling
into the bedroom. She plunked herself on the end of the bed.

“I think,” Eiko told her sister, “you should stay here from now on.”

Michiko was glad her mother had asked Sadie to stay. With her father away, their house seemed big and empty.

Sadie looked at her sister. “It would be better than bunking down with the livestock at Hastings Park.”

Michiko giggled. Why would her aunt think about sleeping at the Exhibition? It didn't even open until the summer. She could almost feel the hot July sun and remembered wading into the noise and smells of the Exhibition. She couldn't wait to hear the mechanical music of the rollercoaster and smell the bright pink cotton candy.

Last summer, they'd taken Hiro to the fairgrounds. He'd loved the sheep, even though the sawdust had made him sneeze. He brought home a yellow balloon. At the fishpond, Michiko won a red celluloid bird on a stick that flapped its wings in the breeze. She thought about how much fun it would be to live at the fairgrounds.

Michiko clapped her hands. “I'd sleep in one of the Giant Dipper's carts.” She turned to her mother and smiled at their joke. “The roller coaster seats are padded.”

Aunt Sadie nodded. “Good idea, but the midway section is locked.” Then she added, in a quiet voice, “In case someone gets the same idea.”

“Do you have any food to bring?” Eiko asked.

“No,” Sadie responded.

Eiko shook her head and said, “With shops closing down, it's getting harder to find the things we like.”

“I've got lots of cash. I sold everything.”

“Everything?” Eiko asked.

“Everything,” Sadie said. “Even my red feathered hat. In fact, I sold that for exactly what I paid.” She patted her hair, as if the hat were still on her head. “Just think, I wore it all that time for free!”

Suddenly, Michiko pictured her Aunt Sadie sitting on a stage, wearing her red feathered hat, surrounded by flowers and blue ribbons. “You'll never win a prize at the Exhibition now,” Michiko murmured, shaking her head.

Both women stared at her, but this time they did not laugh. They did not even smile.

“Maybe I should let some things go,” Eiko suggested.

“Good idea,” Sadie agreed. “These days, you never know what's going to happen next.” She took her sister's hand. “I'll help you make a list.”

Michiko retrieved her book from the floor and placed it back on the shelf. The noise of a key in the door in the front hall made them all freeze and look at each other in silence. Michiko pushed her way between them and ran down the hallway.

Three men crowded into their front hall. Only two of them faced her, but Michiko knew the coat, the hat, and the back of the neck of the third. She especially knew that straight black hair.

“Daddy,” she screamed.

He turned quickly and gathered her into his arms. The shoulder of his coat was damp. It smelled like the
coarse wool of the lamb at the fair. Did her father sleep with the animals? Was it true what her aunt had said about Hastings Park?

“Hello, my little princess,” he murmured into her neck.

Her mother, carrying Hiro, came to his side.

Sam put Michiko down. He cocked his head to one side and looked at his little son. He smiled and cocked his head the other way. Hiro's face broke into a big grin, and he put out his arms. His father took him into his and hugged him. He gave Eiko a kiss on the lips.

Michiko looked at her aunt in surprise. She had never seen her father do that before. He only ever kissed her mother on the cheek.

The men patted her father on the back and left, closing the door behind them, but, just as the family settled themselves in the living room, there was a second knock on the door. Sadie yanked it open. A man with clear blue eyes above a brown walrus mustache stood on the stoop. His black hat glistened with small drops of rain.

“Sam left this in the car,” he said, holding out a small square cardboard box. Sadie put out her hands to take it. She grimaced. The bottom of the box was damp. The man tipped his hat and closed the door.

Seeing the box, Sam laughed. “It's Michiko's birthday present.” He put his hand out and tugged one of her braids. “You didn't think I would forget your birthday?”

The rough brown string that held it together had several knots in it. He broke the string and lifted out a
small round bowl of shiny turquoise gravel. A fat golden fish with two bulging eyeballs fluttered its long translucent fins.

“I'm going to name him Happy,” Michiko said. She threw her arms about her father's neck. “I'm so happy you are home.”

Hiro reached out his fat little hands, opening and closing his pudgy fingers. “He wants to pick it up,” Michiko told her father. “He probably wants to put it in his mouth.” She placed it on top of their four-legged radio stand, away from the grasp of her small brother.

Back in bed, Michiko snuggled against her father's strong shoulders. “Promise me you won't go away any more,” Michiko pleaded.

“I can't promise you that,” he responded. “You know I must work.” Her father's eyes took on the same faraway look that her mother's had worn the other day. “In fact, I will be going away again, soon.”

Michiko pouted.

“You must promise me one thing,” he said, drawing her close to his side. “Promise me, that no matter what happens, you will help look after your family.”

Michiko thought for a moment. “Aunt Sadie can look after herself,” she retorted. “She tells me that all the time.”

“I know,” her father told her. “But I am counting on you to look after the others.”

Michiko bit her upper lip. Then she rolled over and faced the wall. Her father tucked the covers in around her. She didn't want her father to leave again, ever.

It seemed as if she had slept the whole night, but it
was still dark when Michiko opened her eyes. She pulled back the covers and stepped into her slippers.

The nightlight in the hallway was out. It was another blackout. She hated the blackouts, even though the boys at school said they liked them. She stepped into the hall.

Muffled voices came from the living room.

“I am very lucky,” she heard her father say. “I could have been sent straight to the Pool.”

Michiko rubbed her eyes. Why would her father think he was going swimming? She crept further down the hallway. She knew it was
yancha
to eavesdrop, but she wanted to know what was going on.

“Why did they stop you?” she heard her mother ask. “You had your registration card, and you were on company business.”

“I had a map,” he replied.

“A map?” Sadie cried out. Both Sam and Eiko shushed her. “What kind of map?” she whispered.

“Paul Morrison, one of the guys at work, drew it.” Michiko heard her father's giant sigh. “He was showing me where his aunt Edna lived. It's near one of my favourite fishing spots.”

“Near the Kootenay River?” Eiko asked.

“He drew it so I could visit next time I went fishing.” He sighed again. “It was just a simple scrap of paper. I can't believe how much trouble it caused.”

“How did anyone know you had it?” asked Eiko.

“It fell out of my pocket when I stopped to buy the goldfish.” He sighed again. “The owner of the pet store must have reported me.”

“Stupid goldfish,” Sadie berated. “It should be named Trouble instead of Happy.”

Michiko raised the tips of her fingers to her mouth. Sadie was not being nice.

“Thank goodness Mr. Riley vouched for me,” her father said. “He said that if they took me away now, he would make trouble. He has a business to run.”

Michiko silently clapped her hands for Mr. Riley. He was the likeable man who was her father's boss. Last year he'd given her a china tea set for Christmas.

The talking stopped. Michiko turned to go back to bed, but the voices continued. She paused again to listen.

“I have to go, you both know that. The government's ordered all Japanese-born men out.”

No one spoke.

Michiko tried to imagine what these men of the government looked like. Why were they ordering her father out? Out of where?

“Sadie,” Sam asked, “what will you do?”

“I'm staying right here from now on,” Sadie replied in a whisper. “It's not safe where I live. Besides, Eiko will need my help. Sisters stick together.”

“Thanks,” Michiko heard her father say. Then he asked, “And what about Geechan?”

“My father will be difficult,” her mother said. “He thinks he is strong enough to work alongside the others.” Eiko sighed. “He's waiting to be called, but they won't take him. He's too old.”

“You all must stay together,” Sam said. “I will talk to him.” There was a long moan as he stretched. “Let's get
to bed,” he said. “We need all the rest we can get.”

Michiko scurried back to her bed and huddled to the side by the wall, fearful of giving herself away and frightened by the strange conversation.

Sadie studied her niece's picture. “You are turning out to be quite the artist,” she said before shoving the crayons to one side to make room for the teapot.

Michiko grimaced.

“Say thank you,” her mother admonished.

“Thank you,” Michiko mumbled. She wanted to finish the picture she was making for her father. It was her favourite part of the story of Peach Boy.

Geechan, her grandfather, handed her mother the morning mail. He lived with them now, like Sadie. Hiro's crib was in Michiko's room, and Sadie and her mother shared a bed. Having Geechan around helped Michiko forget that her father was in the mountains. He always wore a smile on his wrinkled chestnut face.

Eiko opened a letter. After scanning it for a minute, she said, “Ted's written to tell us about his big plans.”

“Our brother always has big plans,” complained Sadie.

“He says that since he's lost his boat, he's leaving Port Rupert.”

“How did Uncle Ted lose his boat?” Michiko asked in surprise. “Did he forget to anchor it? Did it float away?”

Her mother did not answer. She continued to read the letter silently. “He's found work,” she said instead.

“Where?” asked Geechan.

“I don't know exactly,” her mother replied. “He says it's somewhere in the interior.”

“He can't build boats in the interior,” Sadie scoffed. “What is he up to?”