Part 5 (1/2)
Patrick smiled. ”Mr. Ritchie, you're looking well. And you, Mr. Wilkes?” Patrick addressed the older one. ”All is going well at the factories, I trust?”
Mr. Wilkes nodded and turned his eyes on Sean, looking him up and down. ”I didn't know you had a son.”
”To be sure, I don't, although I sometimes wish I did.” Patrick put his hand on Sean's shoulder. ”This boy be my own sister's child come to live with me to keep these old bones company.”
”Teruko,” Wilkes called out. The j.a.panese woman hastened forward. ”Take this boy upstairs to the playroom to meet the children. Mr. O'Malley, Mr. Ritchie, and I have business to discuss.”
”Yes, yes.” Teruko bowed. She walked over to Sean and shook his arm gently. ”We go dis way.”
Sean looked up at Patrick who nodded encouragingly.
Patrick watched Sean trudge out the door with Teruko.
After the meeting ended, Teruko led Patrick to a large and gloomy room facing the magnificent monkey pod grove. Unfortunately, the grounds could scarcely be seen from the small screened windows close to the ceiling. There were numerous shelves which held more toys than a toy store. Tables and chairs of various sizes sat in the middle of the room. Off to the side, a girl about three years old rocked furiously on a magnificently carved and painted wooden rocking horse. Catching sight of Patrick, she abruptly stopped and stared at him, her bright auburn curls still bouncing.
Nearby two boys around Sean's age played together. The older was a pale, thin boy with white blonde hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes. The younger was almost a miniature of Patrick's boss downstairs. They both turned and stared at Patrick.
On the other side of the room Sean played a board game with a beautiful girl who looked to be about fourteen. Patrick could easily see Sean was bewitched.
The tall, willowy girl had a frothy, platinum halo crowning a face of exquisite perfection. Her eyes were clear blue, outlined in thick, dark lashes. She had a straight little nose above a sweetly curving mouth, and a faint blush stained her cheeks. Seeing Patrick approach, she stood and smiled at him, holding out her hand in greeting. Patrick was charmed.
”I'm Meg Ritchie,” she said. ”You're Mr. O'Malley.”
Patrick took her hand and kissed it. ”And a pleasure it is to see the most famous beauty in Honolulu.”
Meg covered her mouth with her hands and giggled.
Behind him the Ritchie boys snickered.
”Don't mind my uncouth brothers,” Meg linked her hands and tapped her foot. Her brothers pretended to go back to playing.
Patrick turned to his nephew. ”It's time to leave, Sean. Say your goodbyes and thank-yous.”
As they left, Sean cast a lingering look at Meg.
”Did you have a good time in the playroom?” Patrick asked Sean.
Sean shrugged. ”It was okay, I guess.”
”The Ritchies be a pretty high and mighty lot,” Patrick stroked his chin.
”Except Meg,” Sean added quickly.
”Ah, Meg,” Patrick nudged Sean. ”Don't be embarra.s.sed. I've seen grown men act silly around the pretty la.s.s. But you must put all the Megs of the world out of your mind. She's too high stepping for the likes of you. Meg will marry some boring kamaaina, like herself. Be content with Kohala.”
When Sean didn't answer, Patrick wondered if he had made a mistake bringing his nephew with him to Honolulu.
PART TWO.
THE SAMURAI WOMAN.
1924-1934.
Chapter Seven.
Kohala, August, 1924 Kazuko Matsubara decided if the child struggling to leave her womb was a girl, it would be better if she died at birth. Although the very idea she was thinking such a horrible thing frightened her, it scared her even more to have another daughter born into poverty.
As she walked through the cane field to the midwife s.h.i.+zue's house, a sharp contraction forced her to stop for a moment. She grimaced. Sweat poured from her wide brow. Like all her other babies, this one was early and eager to leave the womb. Fumbling in her pocket, she withdrew a small piece of cane and bit down hard. The sugary substance dripped into her mouth and slid down her throat. She wanted to cry out, but she was too proud to lower herself to such shameful behavior. After all, she was samurai and she had been taught to bear labor pains in silence. The pain ebbed a little. Kazuko removed the cane from her mouth and slid it back into her pocket.
Sighing, she trudged through the cane again. The towering stalks entangled her in their embrace, keeping her in this cursed land. The cane was a constant reminder of all she had lost when she left j.a.pan. It imprisoned her body and soul.
j.a.pan. The mere sound of it caused explosions in her heart and she cursed the ground she walked on. This land was a deceptively beautiful maiden with a provocative voice and wretched heart. It called, ”Come to me, and I will make love to you and return you to the womb from which you came, enriched through my sweet embrace.” Hawaii's promises were irresistible to the thousands of poor farmers from the far-flung Southern prefectures of the islands of j.a.pan. Driven by dreams of wealth, they came from k.u.mamoto, Hiros.h.i.+ma, and Yamaguchi. They swallowed their fears and left behind a rigid social structure governed by birth and place, to plunge into the unknown. Enduring difficult sea voyages to follow the white man's lies, the immigrants promised their families they would return to j.a.pan wealthy men. What did it matter? In j.a.pan, cla.s.s was far more important than wealth.
Another spasm hit and she tore at the green stalks as she shoved the cane between her teeth. The sun was directly over her, rivers of sweat poured down her neck, her back, and between her swollen b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The cheap, blue cloth of her dress clung to her huge stomach.
She felt the baby move, impatient to leave her womb. She bit down on the cane harder. Seeing the end of the field, she stumbled across the clearing to the whitewashed old house standing on crossed boards a foot above the ground.
”O-s.h.i.+zue!” Kazuko screamed as she collapsed on the ground. Sharp pains ripped through her. The syrup running down her throat made her choke. She squeezed her eyes shut, ashamed she had demonstrated such weakness. She felt herself being half carried, half dragged, across the red dirt. It had to be s.h.i.+zue. Little clouds of dust drifted up her nose. Kazuko sneezed, bringing on another spasm. She reached out and grabbed s.h.i.+zue's arm.
”O-Kazuko!” s.h.i.+zue's distant voice exclaimed. ”Let go!” But Kazuko held on until the pain pa.s.sed. Then her body went limp as she felt herself being pulled up the stairs, onto the porch, and into the house. She felt the soft futons and zabutons supporting her body.
Another pain tore through her and she willed herself not to cry out and add to her shame. She was not an animal. Her father told her more times than she cared to remember, ”To dishonor your family is to be less than a dog.”
Kazuko was vaguely aware of s.h.i.+zue gently lifting her legs and propping her up with clean rags in preparation for birth. She grimaced. s.h.i.+zue wiped her perspiring brow and carefully pried open her mouth to remove the cane.
Before s.h.i.+zue could replace the cane with a smooth, hard bamboo stick, Kazuko prayed, ”Amida Buddha, let it be a son who will do the family honor and not suffer the indignities of being a woman.” Then she clamped down on the stick.
Pain ripped through her body. Kazuko arched her body like a bow. The pain, the wetness, and the need to push engulfed her. She forced herself to think of something other than the pain. Memories of how easy and beautiful life had been in her father's house flooded her brain.
Kazuko grunted. She clenched the fabric of the futon so hard her fingernails ripped through the fabric. s.h.i.+zue directed her to push harder. Biting her lower lip, she pushed as hard as she could.
”I can see the head,” s.h.i.+zue cried out.
Kazuko grunted as she felt her burden released.
Minutes later, Kazuko opened her eyes. s.h.i.+zue's eyes gazed down at her, her hands deftly wiping Kazuko's sweaty face and pus.h.i.+ng wet strands of her hair behind her ears. ”I'm happy for you. You have a girl, as small and delicate as a cherry blossom. Shall I bring her to you?”
Kazuko nodded weakly. Her eyes followed s.h.i.+zue as she picked up a blue bundle from the laundry basket nearby. ”A fine daughter,” s.h.i.+zue crowed, putting the child next to her. ”What will you name her?”
”Mariko,” Kazuko drew her child closer to her.