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Sumi Hasegawa was in love, a love she would carry with her to eternity.
Cole woke instantly, aware of his surroundings. Today he was going on a picnic! He was out of bed in seconds, showered, shaved, and dressed in eleven minutes flat. It wasn't till he was downstairs in the kitchen, searching for a cup of coffee, that he noticed the time: twenty minutes past six. He groaned. Sumi had said she would meet him in the garden at nine o'clock. Talk about being overanxious.
A walk, he could go for a walk, he thought. If the other family members woke and saw him prowling about, it might not look good. ... He shifted from one foot to the other trying to decide what to do. Sit in the garden? Walk up to the cherry blossom hill? Go back to his room and wait for nine o'clock? He didn't want to do anything wrong, anything that would make the family think he wasn't good enough for Sumi. Jesus, he was acting like a kid with his first date. He never felt this way before.
In the end, he decided to walk through the first floor of the Hasegawa house to see what it was like. When he saw the shoes neatly lined up at the front door, he hastily slipped out of his Top-Siders. Mistake number one.
Cole spent the next forty-five minutes walking through the spacious rooms, marveling at the costly paintings and rare jade. It was a house full of light and soft furnishings, a house that seemed to be full of promise—of what, he wasn't sure. In what looked to be a music room he saw all the family portraits. He walked from one to the other, memorizing the names of Sumi's ancestors. The portraits dwindled to small oils of the Hasegawa children and on to colored photographs and black and white snapshots, all framed. He stared for a long time at a picture of Riley's mother and father. A picture of Riley at the age of three, in the garden, brought a lump to his throat. He followed the parade of pictures on an eye-level shelf. The pictures ended abruptly with the last picture of Riley, when he was fifteen or so. The bareness at the end of the shelf was so noticeable, so poignant, that Cole had to clench his hands into fists. He swallowed hard past the lump. "Damn you, Riley!" he cursed. He walked around the room a second time till he came to Sumi's pictures. It was like a rogues' gallery. Sumi tumbling in the garden, Sumi in costume at a play in school, Sumi on a pony, Sumi tussling with her sisters, Sumi in a studious pose with
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glasses perched on her nose. Sumi, Sumi, Sumi. He closed his eyes and willed a picture of himself and Sumi on the shelf. In the picture he and Sumi would be cutting a wedding cake.
Cole stood in the open doorway, looking back at the pictures on the shelves. He thought he'd give up all he owned to have his pictures there with the others. This house, this family, felt so right. If he could make a wish, it would be to be one of them.
The Zen garden was quiet and peaceful. A flash of red made him turn. Sumi! Sumi was in the garden, and it was only twenty minutes to eight. Sumi!
"I came down early; I didn't think you'd be up yet," Sumi said softly. Her eyes drank in the sight of him. How wonderful he looked, and it was so early in the morning. She hoped she didn't look weary from her own lack of sleep.
"I guess.. .I've been down here since six-thirty. I hope I didn't wake anyone."
"Not at all. When you are here, this is your home. You will do whatever pleases you. I'm sorry there was no family member to greet you on rising. My sisters will feel shame."
"Shame! No, don't let that happen. Sumi, you're laughing. You're putting me on, right?"
"A little. Your face gets very pink when you're upset; did you know that?" Sumi teased. "Come, the picnic baskets are ready. I made them myself last night after everyone went to bed."
She'd done that ... for him? Cole's voice was full of awe. "You can cook?"
She giggled. "Of course. All Japanese women can cook. It was my first time with an American cookbook, though. I made fried chicken, deviled eggs, potato salad, cole slaw, and something called hush puppies. I have fresh bread, cheese, apples, beer, wine, and pastries. What do you think? Will we starve?"
"Who else is going besides you and me?" Cole asked. Jesus, she wasn't bringing the family, was she?
Sumi's jaw dropped. Good heavens, he wanted her to bring the family. "Just... I thought it would be just you and... Would you like me to ask my sisters?"
"Hell no!! Let's go, just you and me. I'll eat every bite so it isn't wasted."
They laughed together as they raced through the house with the packed picnic baskets. Shadaharu Hasegawa smiled to
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himself at the sound of their running feet and happy laughter. He looked like a wise old Buddha as he puffed away on his cigar, alone in his room. Some things were meant to be.
As far as Cole Tanner was concerned, it was a perfect day. He lay back on the blanket they'd brought and contemplated his surroundings. For the first time in hours he was aware of something other than Sumi at his side. Butterflies; Cole blinked as they danced about him. He stretched out a long arm, and one perched on his wrist. "Look, Sumi; shhh, don't make a sound." When the butterfly took wing, Sumi said, "Yellow is my favorite color. What's yours, Cole?"
Did he have a favorite color? He thought about it for a minute. "Blue, I think," he said hesitantly. Was blue really his favorite color?
"That color blue?" Sumi said, pointing to another butterfly. They watched silently, holding their breath, neither knowing exactly why. When the blue and yellow butterflies took wing together, soaring overhead, both of them sighed. Sumi stared boldly at Cole for a second, then lowered her eyes demurely. Cole flushed and rolled over onto his stomach.
"How did you get away from your job today?"
"It really isn't a job, the kind you and Sawyer have. My father allows me to go to the paper and, as he calls it, futz around, and once in a while I write something. I'm not very good," she said shyly.
"I can't believe that. Your people are so meticulous compared to Americans."
Your people. He was comparing. Sumi's heart sank. He was making a point of saying they were two different races. She had to say something, to respond to Cole in a light way. "When I go back to work at the paper, I will write an article about butterflies. My editor will blue-pencil it and say no one wants to read about butterflies, at which point I will stomp my feet and say I'll tell my father, and then they'll run the article. I wouldn't do that, though."
"Good. But if you change your mind, let me know and I'll buy every copy."
"You would do that?" Sumi asked in awe. Cole nodded solemnly. Sumi's heart soared. If she'd been a butterfly, she'd have taken wing herself.
"Who's in charge of all the newspapers your father owns?"
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Cole asked lazily. "Listen, if you want to scratch my back, it's okay with me."
Sumi laughed. She rolled over on her side and let her nails trail down Cole's back. She smiled again when he shivered. "Mr. Naomura runs the papers, but he is old and he wants to retire. My father was counting on Riley coming back to take over. Even though my father is ill, no decisions are made until he is consulted."
"What about all your sisters' husbands? Why don't they take over some of the responsibilities?"
"Because they are working for their own fathers. It is our way, Cole. Other men run the different businesses. It is a heavy load of responsibility. Father was counting on Riley. It was his desire to bring everything under one roof, with Riley to oversee all the different companies. There is much confusion right now. Soon my father will have to make important decisions about our different businesses. He procrastinates because in his heart he thinks Riley will return and take over. I do not think that will happen. Do you, Cole?"
Ten different responses ran through Cole's head. He couldn't lie to this beautiful girl. "No. This is just between you and me, Sumi; it goes no further. Agreed?"
"But of course. What is it? What are you trying to tell me?"
"Part of Riley wants to come back here, but the other part, the American side of him, wants to be with his father's people. He is a Coleman, Sumi, through and t
hrough. More so than me." He told her then about his fight with Riley, glossing over the reason for the altercation.
Sumi gasped. "How awful for you, Cole. What has gotten into Riley?"
She cared; he could tell by the sound of her voice. She was showing no concern for Riley, only for him. "He wants to be a Coleman," he went on. "He wants to run the business, and he's done well. I gave him my half of Sunbridge, but I gave it in anger. Eventually I would have given it to him peacefully, but he doesn't know that. Sunbridge is where he belongs. Texas is Riley's home now."
"I know that. I tried to make my father understand, but it is—how do you say?—hope springs eternal. He thinks one day the phone will ring and it will be Riley saying he is returning, or he waits for the mail, hoping there is a letter from him saying the
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same thing. In his heart he knows. That hope is what's keeping him alive. You must never give any indication that—"
"I know. I would never.. . You can trust me."
"And you can trust me."
Cole reached for Sumi's hands and pulled her to her feet. How small and fragile her hands felt. A surge of protectiveness rushed through Cole. He kept one of Sumi's hands in his as they sauntered across the spiky green grass of the park. He wanted to kiss her then, more than anything, but he didn't know if it would be forward, if he would bring dishonor to himself or to her. Clearly some boning up on Japanese culture was called for.
Sumi stopped in midstride. "You could have kissed me back there. Didn't you want to? Are you just being nice to me? I thought you would want to kiss... why?" she asked boldly.
"Well... I... hell, I wasn't sure ... Sure, I did, more than anything.. .. Jesus, what about your honor and all?.. . Come here," Cole said, pulling her to him. Sumi melted into his arms. How good she felt, how warm and soft, how right. There in the shade of a gnarled old tree, with the blue and yellow butterflies flitting overhead, Cole kissed her, a soft, gentle kiss full of yearning and promise. When he released her, he smiled down into her eyes. "This is the second time that East has met West in my life," he whispered. Sumi burrowed against him.
She was small and slim, tiny actually, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder, but her figure was womanly— all the curves were in the right places. She wore a simple dress, fashionably long, and on her narrow feet were soft leather pumps. Her long, straight black hair was knotted at the top of her head, and long, feathery tendrils escaped here and there. In the half sunlight the mass of ebony glinted with shimmering blue lights. It looked incredibly soft.
"Your hair is beautiful, and your eyes are like saucers of licorice," Cole blurted. He half expected her to laugh, but Sumi looked up at him, pleasure coloring her cheeks and glowing in her eyes.
"And your eyes are like the skies of summer," she told him simply, truthfully. "It is my favorite time of year."
"Is there ... is there anyone special in your life?" Cole asked bluntly. He had to know.
"No. Is there someone special in your life?"
"No." Until now, he thought. This girl was special from the
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top of her shiny head to the tip of her toes. There was a certain stillness about her—it was a trait he coveted. He himself always seemed to be churning and stewing about something. She appeared to be shy, yet she wasn't shy; at least, not when it counted. She was sweet and natural. She listened, she smiled, and she interjected her thoughts and opinions in a soft, melodious voice.
Yes, there was no doubt about it; he was in love. When he looked into Sumi's soft, dark eyes, he saw himself as he wanted to be: tender, gentle, manly. He could be all things for this beautiful girl at his side.
Each day Cole spent with Sumi strengthened his commitment to her. He kissed her often now, warm, gentle kisses full of passion and longing. He knew if he pressed her, she would give herself to him willingly, but he couldn't ask that of her— for her sake, not his own. He took more cold showers than he'd ever taken in his life.
They spent each day together, rising early, retiring late. They walked, they went to the movies, to concerts, to the hot baths, and always they returned through the park, stopping to melt into each other's arms under the old tree. Cole carved their initials, and at Sumi's insistence he drew a rough-cut heart around them. As far as he was concerned, that said it all.
When he had only one day left of his vacation, Cole knew he didn't want to leave. As much as Riley didn't want to come to Japan, Cole didn't want to return to Texas. When everyone was asleep he went to the room where the telephone was kept and called Texas. He didn't ask if he could extend his vacation. He simply said that he would be staying on awhile longer. He returned to his room and took a tepid shower. He hated the thought of sleep; it was wasted time. He wished he could knock on Sumi's door and ask her to go for a moonlight walk. Instead, he tossed and turned and daydreamed about the wonderful, intoxicating days he'd spent with her. The days to follow would be equally wonderful; he was sure of it.
Sumi sat by the window in her room, her knees drawn up to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Cole was leaving tomorrow and he'd done no more than kiss her. He hadn't said all the things lovers say. Tomorrow he would be gone, and she didn't know if she would ever see him again. There were times when she was almost convinced that Cole returned her love; a softening in his eyes, the way he looked at her, the feel of his arm around her shoulder. American men were sup-
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posed to be aggressive, chasing women and seducing them left and right, but he didn't want to chase her; he wasn't attracted to her that way.. . maybe because she was Japanese. Her heart shattered in a thousand pieces at the thought.
He was leaving tomorrow. There would be a formal goodbye. Her life would be over the moment he walked out the door. She wished she had someone to talk to, someone to confide in. If only Sawyer were home, but she was off on a long field trip. Sawyer would know what to say and how to say it. Sawyer knew about men. She tried to find reasons why Cole didn't want to make love to her, but she couldn't come up with an answer. Well, there was only one way to find out.
Sumi washed her face and combed her hair. She dabbed perfume behind her ears, a delicious gift from Sawyer, and guaranteed to drive men over the brink, or so Sawyer had said. She'd soon see.
Shadaharu Hasegawa couldn't sleep. He reached for his cane. A walk through his peaceful garden always helped his insomnia. He was standing in the dim shadows of the hallway, leaning heavily on his cane, when he saw his daughter Sumi literally run out of her room and down the length of the hall to where Cole slept. He sucked in his breath. His shoulders drooped wearily. "No," he muttered. "I was so sure ..." He waited.
Cole struggled through his thick sleep. Something wakened him, a sound, a touch. His heart almost stopped beating when he saw Sumi standing at the foot of his bed. He remembered another time when a young woman had come unbidden to his room. He had to say something, but his tongue was too thick, he couldn't get the words out, the right words.
"I came to say good-bye," Sumi said tearfully. "1 promised myself I wouldn't cry. Tomorrow everyone will be around when you leave. ... I wanted to ... I need. . . Please, Cole, love me, make love to me before you go."
Cole swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Come here, Sumi." Obediently Sumi walked over to stand before Cole, her eyes downcast. "This isn't what you want. It's not time. ... I wanted to ... so many times, but. . . Listen, I'm not leaving tomorrow. I called Texas and said I want to stay longer. I don't want to leave you, not ever; do you understand what I'm saying? I'm not real good at this."
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"You don't find me repulsive? You don't mind if I'm Japanese?" Sumi asked tearfully.
"Oh, Jesus, is that what you thought. .. think? ... My God, no. You are the most beautiful, the warmest, the most wonderful girl I've ever met. Don't you know how I feel? Can't you tell that I love you... ?" There, the words were out. He waited to see her reaction. Her eyes were like stars when she looked at him, her
smile more beautiful than all the moonbeams in the world. "I don't want either one of us to... We have the rest of our life, Sumi, and eternity on top of that. I'll walk you back to your room."
"No. No, you stay here. I want to go to the garden for a little while. Forgive me for coming here. I've brought shame on myself."
"Never!" Cole exploded. "If you hadn't come here, it might have taken me days, weeks, to tell you how I feel. And how do you feel, Miss Hasegawa?"
"The same way you feel, Cole. I'm so happy that you will be in all of my tomorrows. I love you more than you'll ever know. I thought... Good night, Cole. I'll see you in the morning."
The cold shower was running as soon as Sumi closed the door behind her.
Shadaharu Hasegawa allowed himself a small smile. So his instincts about Coleman Tanner were right. The young American would bring no shame on the Hasegawa family this night or any other night. His step was light when he followed his daughter to the garden; there were prayers to be said in thanks for his insight. Coleman Tanner could very well be one of them.
Sweet, wonderful days followed for Cole and Sumi. At night, in the darkness of his room, there was always a smile on Cole's face as he fell asleep. He loved Sumi, heart and soul. One day he would marry her, but he had to straighten out his life first. If he was lucky, he could fix what was wrong between himself and Riley. Sumi would be at his side; he knew now he could do whatever he had to do. If it was necessary, he could sell Rototillers for Sears, Roebuck.
Should he tell the family? And what about Mr. Hasegawa? The old Japanese deserved to know his intentions in regard to his daughter. And what about Sumi? He hadn't mentioned marriage, nor had she. Did she assume, did she expect.. . did she want him the way he wanted her?.. . The night she'd come to his room had never been mentioned again. That was good, he
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