Hiro said they needed room for their children. Children. She would love to have children. A little boy, a strong, miniature version of Hiro. Or a little girl she could dress in lovely clothes. She would sing lullabies to them and cherish them. There would be happiness, and laughter.
But what if she were barren?
Her heart clenched at the possibility. She and Kenji had never conceived. What would Hiro do if she were unable to give him a son? Would he go elsewhere? Would he divorce her? Or would he turn to a concubine and bring home another woman's son for her to raise?
She decided to bury her worries in work. Despite the distractions from the builders, the threesome got a lot of farming done. Hanako continued to be amazed at the amount of produce that came from her tiny farm. Each week, she and Hiro would go into town with a cart piled high with vegetables and herbs. At the end of each trip, she tried to share the earnings with Hiro and Ginjiro, but both men steadfastly refused to take anything but a mere pittance, insisting that she set aside the majority of the cash for the winter months, and for purchasing additional livestock and supplies in the spring.
The Widow Nakamura had invited her to tea, and Hiro insisted she go. "You should become friends with your neighbors," he advised her. "There may be a time when you will be of great assistance to each other."
So Hanako accepted, bathing in the stream and dressing carefully in her better kimono. She brushed her waist-long ebony hair until it shone, and then tied it carefully behind her neck with strips of fabric. The dusty road and the long walk nearly negated her attempt at tidiness, but she wanted to look her best. Her apparel was not as nice as the widow's lowest servants, but the widow always received her with a warm smile, making her forget her shabby clothes. The older woman, though obviously well-educated and high-born, had a down-to-earth manner and outlook on life. Reiko was definitely in charge of the house, but treated her children and her servants with kindness.
Just like Hiro.
The thought came to her as she trudged along the road to the Nakamura home. Hiro and the Widow Nakamura had much in common. With them, she never felt small. She was treated as an equal. And this was why she trusted them, and why she was able to voice her thoughts with Reiko.
Today, the widow waited for her in the lush gardens beside her home.
"Good morning, Hanako," she called.
"Good morning, Nakamura-san," Hanako replied, stopping to bow respectfully.
"It is such a lovely day. I thought we would have our tea out here in the garden."
Hanako nodded her assent, and Reiko led the way through the garden to an open structure about the size of Hanako's hut. Under the roof, a small, low table held a plate of appetizing treats. Reiko gestured toward one of the silky cushions beside the table. "Please sit down. Chidori-san will bring the tea shortly."
Hanako knelt on the cushion, looking around her at the colorful garden. It was such a peaceful spot. Her mother had grown flowers like these all around their hut. Hanako remembered the colors, the fragrance, and the brightness they had provided to their drab surroundings. Had the castle in Mutsu boasted a large garden, with a place to sit and entertain guests?
Reiko settled herself on the cushion opposite Hanako, smiling serenely as she poured the tea. Hanako reached out to pick up the fragile cup, carefully lifting it to sip the fragrant brew.
For a moment she remembered Kenji's mocking words when she had wanted to purchase a tea set in the marketplace. "Why would you need something like that? You don't need nice cups for the slop we drink. It would be a waste!"
If only you could see me now. I am drinking fine tea out of a lovely cup while seated on a silk cushion in a beautiful garden.
"How is the construction of your new home coming along?" The widow asked.
Hanako didn't know where to begin. "It seems very large," she managed. "I don't know why I would need so much room."
"A wealthy samurai and his wife should live in a home befitting his station."
"Wife? But—" Hanako struggled to voice her thoughts. How could she explain her hesitation to marry? Any other woman would not hesitate to accept the advances made by a man like Hiro, whether or not they included the offer of marriage. But Hanako wasn't any other woman.
"Are you afraid of marriage to the samurai?"
"No," Hanako admitted. "Actually I was afraid the home is large so I would agree to—" She gasped as she realized what she was about to say.
The older woman waited patiently, her eyes full of understanding. She grasped Hanako's hand, encouraging her to continue. When it was apparent that wasn't going to happen, she squeezed her grasp.
"You don't want to be bought, to be kept as a concubine. Even when your father and husband were with you, you were independent and made decisions that kept your family fed. It goes against your nature to allow someone else to share the burden of the work and the financial worries, because it also means you would give up your freedom."
Hanako gazed in shocked admiration at this woman who had pinpointed her feelings and articulated them so clearly. How had she known?
Nakamura-san smiled in understanding. "We are kindred spirits, you and I. I have not struggled financially, as you have, but like you, I fought to be heard in a man's world. My father despaired of my ever finding a husband because I was too outspoken, too independent, too opinionated. But there are men who appreciate those qualities, and I believe Tanaka-san is one of them."
Hanako beamed with happiness. Her neighbor understood her so well.
"But how can I be sure about Hiro?"
Reiko shrugged. "I suppose one can never be sure how things will turn out in the end. I knew my husband would remain faithful and would provide for me and for our children as long as he lived. But I didn't know he would die relatively young. If I had known ahead of time, I may have wavered. But I can't regret the decision I made. We had less than twenty years together, but they were full of joy, and I have four fine sons who bear his name and give testimony to his character."
Hanako thought about that for a moment. Hiro had never given her reason to doubt his character, but she had only known him for a few months.
Her concern must have shown in her face, because Reiko surprised her yet again.
"I hope you are not offended, but since you have no family, I have taken the liberty of standing in as your mother and have sent an investigator to Tokyo to find out about Tanaka-san's family and his character."
Hanako sat up in surprise. She felt her jaw drop and her eyes widen in disbelief. Remembering her manners, she quickly averted her gaze away from direct eye contact with the older woman.
"I — I am honored that you would be so concerned for me."
The widow leaned toward her, with a maternal expression of concern. "I never had a daughter, Hanako. If I had, I would wish her to be as strong and disciplined as you. Since your mother and I were acquaintances, I feel she would want to know about an intended husband for you, especially since your first experience was so — painful. Tanaka-san seems like the perfect husband, but we will have to be sure. When my investigator returns, we will talk again."
****
A few days later, the Widow Nakamura made a surprise appearance at Hanako's home. Though the two women had become acquainted, it had always been Hanako who went to visit Reiko.
Hanako was indoors, mending. Rising to her feet, she bowed respectfully. "Good morning, Nakamura-san."
"Good morning, Hanako," the widow returned, nodding her acknowledgement. "I see you are hard at work, as always. I am so glad you finally have some others to share the burden with you."
Hanako blushed, uncomfortable with the woman's concern. "Thank you, Nakamura-san," she murmured. "You have come a long way from your home. Please sit and rest. Could I serve you some tea?"
The older woman smiled. "I would be grateful for a cup of tea."
Hanako ushered the woman into the hut, grateful now for the improvements Hiro had provided. During recent visits into the village, h
e had purchased a new table and comfortable cushions. Hanako shuddered at the mental image of the silk-clad Widow Nakamura kneeling on the flat, dingy, threadbare cushions that had flanked her crude makeshift table.
She tried not to tremble as she handled the delicate china cups Hiro had brought back from Hakodate. Quickly, she set the water on her stove to boil. She found some of the fancy rice crackers he and Ginjiro had purchased on their last trip to the village and set a few on a small tray. A few weeks ago I would not have had anything to serve a guest. My life has changed so much that a fine lady is going to sit on a lovely cushion at my polished table, sip on tea from a fine china cup, and nibble on fancy crackers. Happiness warmed her.
She brought the tea and crackers to the table and knelt next to her guest. The elder woman nodded her thanks and helped herself to two crackers and took a dainty sip of her tea before clearing her throat and looking into Hanako's eyes.
Hanako studied the widow as she waited for her to speak. A distant memory of her mother came to her. She too held herself like this. So had her mother's cousin, the one who had asked Hanako to call her obachan.
"It is fortunate that your late husband made arrangements with his cousin for your protection," Reiko began. Hanako's brow furrowed momentarily. Cousin? Then she remembered her first meeting with Hiro, when he introduced himself to Sato-san as Kenji's cousin. And Sato-san was widely known as the village gossip.
"It is especially fortunate that Tanaka-san and his friend are experienced warriors. I would not wish to see you or anyone else experience more pain like the tragic losses you suffered last harvest."
More pain? Hanako felt her chest tighten. "What do you mean?"
"There have been reports of raids in the villages to the south. The ronin have been causing more trouble."
Hanako's heart stood still. The ronin had returned? How would she survive another raid like the last one? She had managed to live through the winter only because of the charity of her neighbors. But what if they too suffered heavy losses? What would they all do?
"I know you are still trying to rebuild after the raid last fall. I wanted to warn you to take precautions before they return. I have hired extra field workers, but like most of the people in this area, they are simple farmers who are no match for former samurai warriors. In order to protect our lands, the men and women must be trained to fight. Hiro has this training. We need his expertise."
"You want Hiro to train your field workers to fight against the ronin?"
"It is our only chance for survival. Last summer, we were totally helpless. We could do nothing but wait for them to finish their destruction and hope that we survived."
"But if we fight, we could lose even more people!"
"That would be better than waiting to die."
Inwardly, Hanako agreed, though the thought of a battle between the gentle townspeople and a band of former samurai terrified her.
"While he may be a strong and intelligent man, I know that Tanaka-san is learning about this business from you, and I suspect that he will not commit to anything like this unless he knows you approve. I wanted to come to you first so that you would understand why this is necessary. I know you need his help and presence here, but the entire village needs him now. Please, for the good of us all, share Hiro and his skill with us."
Hanako nodded her agreement, but her mind was not on the rest of the conversation.
****
Just outside the doorway, Ginjiro froze in place, listening intently. He'd come to ask for instructions about crops in the far side of the field, but the voice he heard was not Hanako's. Caution had him stopping to assess a possible threat to his mistress, but the cultured, melodious voice was anything but fearsome. Her words were not threatening, and he decided Hanako was not in danger, but he allowed himself to listen to the mystery woman's voice, letting himself be drawn in by the soothing tones. During his years as a warrior, he had known many noblewomen, but the pampered, empty-headed ladies had held no appeal for him. Certainly, none had held his attention simply with the sound of her voice.
He wanted to see the owner of the voice. Carefully, he bent his upper body toward the doorway, not wanting his sometimes clumsy feet to give him away. The new voice spoke calmly, but directly. Hopefully, her attention would be focused on Hanako, who customarily knelt at the table with her back to the door. This meant that the guest would be facing the doorway.
His upper body was nearly level with the ground, but he couldn't quite see far enough into the room to get a glimpse of the voice's owner. Perhaps if he just took one more step…
Carefully, quietly, he lifted his left foot and moved it toward the doorway. Unfortunately, his right foot was in the way, and his eyes widened in horror as he realized that he was now face down, his limbs arranged in an inelegant heap on the floor. Thank goodness he and Hiro had installed a new tatami mat inside the doorway, or his face would have hit the rough wood planks.
Perhaps his tumble had gone unnoticed. Perhaps he could just back out, and the women wouldn't know…
"Ginjiro!" Hanako's footsteps scurried toward him. "Are you all right?"
Ginjiro nodded, wincing when the motion scraped his face on the dry reeds in the mat. Despite the discomfort, he kept his face to the floor, scooting backward, hoping to leave before she—
"It seems the samurai has injured his head in the fall."
Ginjiro groaned, mortified to be caught in such an embarrassing position. How on earth could he explain his clumsiness?
His groan of frustration was interpreted as a sign of pain.
"Oh, Ginjiro," Hanako cried, "Forgive me! You must have tripped in that trench I dug for the plants outside the door. And now you are hurt!"
"Perhaps we should move him inside so we can tend to his wound." The warm contralto voice that had mesmerized him floated from his other side. He turned his head toward the voice and nearly yelped from the pain of the movement.
A gentle touch — one he hadn't experienced since his youth — caressed his face. Another hand probed his scalp, almost immediately finding the very spot that throbbed from within. He flinched and his eyelids clenched shut.
"Ah, here it is. Fortunately, there is no bleeding, but it is starting to swell. Let's help him get comfortable, and then we can put a cold cloth on his head."
Ginjiro's mind momentarily transported him back to his youth, when gentle hands cared for his boyhood scrapes, when a soft voice helped him relax and be coddled. But the voice he heard now was not his mother's. The women helped him to his feet and led him to the cushions around the table.
Finally, the pain faded enough for him to open his eyes and behold the owner of the intriguing voice. The sight was as stunning as the sound.
The beautiful woman holding the cloth to his head couldn't possibly be the mother of the Nakamura brothers. Her raven hair had only a few streaks of gray, and her face was unlined. She held his head with a maternal touch, but the reaction in his heart was anything but filial.
He heard Hanako's footsteps as she left for the stream and returned with a wet cloth, but he had eyes only for the lovely guest.
All too soon his time in paradise ended, and the widow left. A servant assisted her into a waiting carriage, and she was whisked away. Hanako answered his original question about the western field, and he returned to work. But for the rest of the day and all through the night, images of Hanako's beautiful neighbor filled his thoughts.
****
As soon as he saw Hanako, Hiro realized something had happened. She knelt over a plot of scallions, listlessly pulling out weeds. Sometimes a scallion would come up along with the weeds, but she didn't seem to notice. Worried, he knelt beside her.
"What has happened to disturb you?" he asked gently.
Hanako gasped and dropped the plants as her hand flew to her throat "You — I didn't hear you come." Her eyes widened as she noted the position of the sun, and she pushed to her feet. "It is late! I don't have a meal prepared."
&nb
sp; She turned to go into the hut, but Hiro caught her arm before she could escape.
"It is not so late that Ginjiro and I will perish from lack of food. We are accustomed to living without regular meal times. Please, come and sit with me by the stream. Between us, we should be able to catch a fine supper in no time."
Hanako's hesitation worried him even more. "Has someone or something frightened you?" His frown deepened as another thought occurred to him. "Has Sato-san been harassing you again?"
The surprise in her eyes reassured him before her adamant denial. "No, I have not seen him, except when I am with you." Her lips curved in an impish grin. "I am certain he would not dare to trouble me in front of you."
"He would be wise not to trouble you even if I am not with you," he muttered. "But what is bothering you? You seemed to be pulling out as many scallions as weeds. You are normally much more careful."
Hanako stared down at the mess she had made and groaned. Hiro gently turned her away from the garden and led her toward the stream, hoping the serenity of the wooded area would calm her enough to share her thoughts. He did not have to wait long.
He listened intently as she told him about her visitor. His chest tightened at the mention of the ronin. But he sensed there was more on her mind than the news of a possible invasion.
"You know that Ginjiro and I will protect you with our lives," he reminded her.
"I hope it will not come to that. I am so glad you are here. But the two of you are the only men who know how to fight against them."
Hiro's senses went on alert. "Wouldn't the rest of the men in the area try to protect their own?"
"Yes, they would, and many women too. But the people here don't know how to fight against former samurai. Nakamura-san said—" She bit her lip as she chose the words to reveal her neighbor's plan.
"What did she say?"
"She said her sons will come to ask you to train them and the other villagers to fight, if and when the time comes. She says it is our only hope."
The Samurai's Garden Page 7
