Ruthie rose to her feet and mentally braced herself for whatever was to come. She didn’t know what was going on, but she had a sickening feeling she was about to be hit with more bad news.
Speaking even faster than before, Mrs. Kagawa stopped at the table and tumbled the words out in what sounded like a haphazard fashion. Although Ruthie couldn’t make out exactly what the problem was, there was no question the woman was in supreme distress.
Paisley stood and pulled out a chair for their visitor. “Slow down. Take a breath,” she urged. “Have some tea.”
“No time,” said Mrs. Kagawa. “Obasan open present and see doll. Now she cry, and she cry more. No stopping. She only say, ‘Whose doll?’ I don’t know what is matter.”
Ruthie didn’t know whether to comfort her or probe for answers. She finally settled on asking a couple questions of her own. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked softly. “What do you want me to do?”
“You come,” Mrs. Kagawa said, holding out a hand for her to follow. “You tell her about doll. She stop cry.” She reached for Ruthie and tugged at her sleeve. “Come, quick-quick.”
Until Gray had come into the shop looking for the doll less than a month ago, she had never paid much attention to it where it had sat on a shelf at the Bristows’ house. For that reason, she doubted she could answer the aunt’s questions about it, nor could she offer any comfort that the aunt’s own family hadn’t already attempted to provide.
Gray knew more about the doll than she did. Maybe he could help shed light on this strange turn of events. On the way out, she reached for her cell phone and hit the speed-dial button that connected her to Gray.
“Meet me at Mrs. Kagawa’s house. Something’s going on with the doll.”
* * *
The inside of the Kagawa house was even more beautiful than the outside. The minimalist decor combined clean Japanese lines with comfortable American furniture that made Ruthie feel both welcomed and a little in awe of the careful styling.
At the front of the room, an older woman took the place of honor in a plush wingback chair that nearly swallowed her tiny frame. The matriarch’s dark hair, almond eyes and amber skin were echoed in the family members clustered around the room. A couple of children stared openly at Ruthie.
The aunt’s face was splotchy from crying, and tears glistened on her lashes. In her lap sat two identical dolls, one dressed in royal blue and the other—Sobo’s—in red.
Mrs. Kagawa introduced her aunt as Tomiko Kishimoto and explained that she had purchased Sobo’s doll because it was a perfect match to the one Tomiko already owned. She said something in Japanese to her aunt, and the elderly woman teared up again. Clearly confounded by the predicament, Mrs. Kagawa turned to Ruthie, her expression one of helpless frustration.
“See? She crying.”
Ruthie went to the aunt and offered a bow of respect. “Kon’nichiwa.” Thank goodness she remembered the basic greetings Sobo had taught her more than ten years ago. “Watashi no namae wa Ruthie desu.”
The woman looked at her and politely dipped her head.
Taking the gesture as one of acceptance, she knelt to interact with the woman at her level.
Mrs. Kishimoto said something in Japanese, but her speech was much too fast and too advanced for Ruthie to follow. She turned to Mrs. Kagawa in a silent request for her to translate, but the elderly aunt grabbed her arm and gripped it tightly. Taken by surprise, she could only marvel that someone so tiny could clamp on so hard.
One of the children, a boy about three or four years old, sidled closer to Ruthie. Slowly, almost reverently, he lifted a hand and touched her hair so lightly she barely felt it.
Mrs. Kagawa spoke to the boy in Japanese, her face and tone stern, and he stepped away. To Ruthie she said, “Oba wants to know where you found the doll.”
Ruthie directed her answer to the aunt. To reply in Japanese was beyond her ability, so she mimed in conjunction with her response. Pointing a finger at her own chest, she said, “My sobo.”
Apparently surprised at her use of the Japanese word for her relative, the woman jerked her gaze to Ruthie’s red hair.
Understanding the matron’s confusion over a Japanese woman having produced a granddaughter with red hair and fair skin, she quickly explained, “Sobo is my honorary grandmother. I love her the same.”
Mrs. Kagawa translated. The aunt leaned forward in the chair and gently touched Ruthie’s face.
Surprised by the unexpected gesture, Ruthie sat and accepted what could only be described as a loving touch. She became aware of the door opening and someone entering the room. Gray must have arrived. If her chin hadn’t been so carefully cradled in the aunt’s thin fingers, she might have turned to see him. See if the hurt he wore earlier today was still evident on his face. Or had he forgiven her for breaking up with him? Breaking both of their hearts.
The woman turned the dolls toward her and lifted the red dress to show her the Japanese characters that had been handwritten on its leg. Sobo’s doll.
“Imōto-san. Naoko.” Tomiko pointed to Ruthie and added, “Obaasan.”
Yes, Naoko was her obaasan. Her grandmother, of sorts. She had known without the extra hint that the red-dressed doll belonged to Sobo and wondered what she was getting at. And what did imōto-san mean?
Gray cleared his throat and introduced himself in Japanese as Naoko’s grandson.
The woman’s gaze left her face and turned toward him, her face lighting with delight. “Oi,” she said. She bowed her head, then again. “Oi.”
Gray blinked in response, apparently taking in what she said.
Mrs. Kishimoto urged him to pull up a chair beside her, then showed him the writing on the other doll, in the same location.
“Onē-san,” she said, and in a gesture mimicking Ruthie’s earlier one, pointed to herself and added, “Tomiko.”
Mrs. Kagawa gasped, and the others in the room all fell silent.
Ruthie recognized the name Tomiko from their introduction and assumed she was indicating the doll in the blue dress belonged to her. The dolls’ resemblance and the fact that they sported similar writings left her wondering where this conversation was heading. Did she and Sobo know one another? One look at Gray, and the reaction of the others, told her they understood exactly what was going on.
The birthday lady reached over and patted Gray’s hand in a show of familiarity and affection. “Oi,” she repeated.
Apparently stunned by the revelation, he sat back in the chair to take it all in.
“What?” Ruthie asked. “What is it?”
He turned his gaze to her. “Imōto-san means little sister,” he said. “Onē-san is big sister.” He frowned, deep in thought. “I thought Sobo was an only child.”
Ruthie leaned back from her kneeling position and thumped to a resounding sit. Tomiko Kishimoto was Sobo’s big sister. With that bit of information in place, she now recalled the other family word Sobo had taught her. Oi. Nephew. This sweet elderly woman was Gray’s great-aunt. It took a moment for everything to sink in. The odds of their encountering each other an ocean and several decades away were astronomical.
Gray leaned back, processing this groundbreaking information. He met Ruthie’s gaze, and she wished she could offer him the kind of comfort and assurance she would have liked for herself right now. But this moment was not about her and him.
Mrs. Kishimoto, having overcome her earlier distress, now excitedly told the story of how she had come to have this doll, and her niece translated for her.
As young children living outside of Tokyo, the girls had been given identical dolls. Although their mother had made different-colored dresses for them, the sisters had marked the dolls to prevent their getting mixed up. Naoko often slept with hers at night to calm her fears of the dark.
All the oth
ers—Gray’s new family members, and hers by association—were as enthralled as she at hearing the story of two sisters growing up a world away and so many decades ago.
Tomiko fast-forwarded into the story about ten years. When Naoko was only sixteen, she answered an ad for employment at an office in nearby Tokyo. Anxious about going for her first job interview, she had tucked the doll in her bag to calm her nerves. Tomiko and the family had kissed her and wished her well, then sent her on her way.
Mrs. Kagawa, apparently also hearing this for the first time, continued translating. Her voice grew soft. “A terrible thing happen that day,” she said. “Naoko never come home.”
The family had wondered why she had not contacted them and had feared she’d been badly injured. Tomiko had been looking for her ever since, guided to the United States by a witness who saw an American serviceman—Pop?—rescue Naoko from a vicious mugging. Having learned the serviceman’s company was originally from Virginia, Tomiko had eventually moved here in hopes of locating that man and finding out what had become of her sister.
Ruthie glanced over at Gray, who was visibly shaken by what he heard. To the young people in the room, this was a fascinating story about a stranger they’d never met. But to Gray it was a piece of his grandmother’s personal history. She felt certain his heart must ache at the thought of Sobo, a vulnerable young girl alone in the city, being attacked by a stranger.
He was so close, almost close enough to touch, but seemed so far away. She wanted to take his hand and let him know he wasn’t alone. Wanted to let him lean on her, but she couldn’t.
Tomiko reached for him, her demeanor cautious, and asked a question.
“She want to know,” Mrs. Kagawa said, “if Naoko still alive.”
Gray stood and bowed to his newfound great-aunt. “She’s very much alive,” he said, and briefly explained that she was currently recovering from a broken hip. “I’m sure she would be honored to see you.” Then he turned to Mrs. Kagawa, gave her his grandparents’ address and asked her to bring Tomiko and meet him there in thirty minutes.
Ruthie rose and stood on the periphery of the circle that now clustered around Gray. She was not officially connected to these nice people who were Gray’s new family, but neither was she a total bystander.
He looked to her and nodded toward the door. “Want to ride with me? I’m sure Sobo and Pop will want you there.”
Her role in joining him today was not as his partner, but as Sobo’s grandchild.
* * *
Gray stuck his head in Sobo’s room and found Pop reading a home-repair magazine while his wife napped. He beckoned his grandfather into the living room, where he broke the news about Sobo’s doll and the history behind it. Ruthie filled in the bits that he left out, and he was glad to have her here. Her calm presence and softly spoken words provided a positive perspective in the midst of their whirlwind discovery.
Pop sat between them on the sofa and pushed shaky fingers through his white hair.
Ruthie was the first to break the weird silence that ensued. “Sobo never spoke of her sister. Did they have a falling-out?”
That possibility had never occurred to Gray. Now he wondered if he’d done the right thing by inviting Tomiko and her family to meet Sobo.
Pop looked up, his gaze far away as if he was remembering what had happened so many years ago. “Naoko was never able to tell you about her past, because she didn’t remember it. She has amnesia.”
The mugging. It must have been bad if it had left her with a head injury that blotted out her entire childhood.
“It was during the Korean War. She had been lured with the prospect of a job in Tokyo. The pay was more than most receptionist jobs offered, which should have been a tip-off, but what young woman wouldn’t have been excited about making a lot of money for her first real job?” He looked toward the hall, listening for Sobo’s call, then lowered his voice. “She was abducted and beaten, presumably by the man who had placed the ad. I happened to be on R & R that weekend and saw a pretty young woman getting roughed up by a guy who was trying to push her into his car. Other than shouting for help, people stood around watching, but nobody did anything about it. Probably too shocked to react, or maybe they were afraid they’d get hurt if they tried to help her.”
He and Ruthie had already heard this part of the story, but she drew in a sharp breath as if it were the first telling. He didn’t blame her. Tomiko had glossed over the details, or perhaps her niece had left them out during translation. At any rate, Pop’s blow-by-blow rendition was hard to hear.
“I gave him a taste of his own medicine,” Pop said, modestly diminishing his role in the event, “but by the time I reached them, he had already beat her pretty bad. Knocked her unconscious. I didn’t wait for an ambulance. Just picked her up and carried her to the hospital two blocks away and stayed with her for the rest of my R & R.”
Ruthie had pressed her knuckles to her mouth. “Thank God you were there at the right place and right time. And that you were willing to risk your own safety to help her.”
He understood why his grandfather had done it. The need to protect others must have been in Pop’s DNA, passed down to Gray’s father and then to him.
“She was treated for a head injury, but the doctors couldn’t help with her memory loss. We were told that if it didn’t come back after a few months, it would probably be permanent. And it was. The doctor said if she got another concussion, it could cause more serious problems. Even life threatening.”
Ruthie moved closer to Pop to lay a comforting hand on his arm, and he pulled her to him to kiss her lightly on the forehead. “What about her attacker?” she asked. “Was he ever found?”
Pop shook his head. “He drove away before anyone could get a look at his license plate. The police were able to figure out from the classified ad found in Naoko’s pocket that she’d been the latest target of a human-trafficking ring.”
It sickened Gray to think what might have happened to Sobo if his grandfather had stood back like everyone else and watched without acting.
“She also had the doll with her, but it didn’t offer any clues,” Pop said.
Ruthie rose and paced the floor. “But it said ‘little sister’ on the doll. Didn’t that give a clue that she had family?”
Pop rubbed a hand across the afternoon crop of white whiskers on his cheek, and the raspy sound matched his voice. “She insisted it meant the doll was ‘Naoko’s little sister.’ We assumed a quirk in her brain had allowed her to remember that piece of information even though everything else was locked away. But she must have made an assumption and latched on to it as fact.”
Knowing now what he did about his grandmother’s head injury, it was easy to see why Pop had worried so much about her hitting her head when she fell off the rose trellis.
The rest was the stuff of Hollywood movies. Pop went on to explain that he visited her in the hospital and later in rehab whenever he could get approval to return to Tokyo. And in between they wrote letters. They fell in love, and when it was time for her release from medical care, she became his war bride and went on to create a lifetime of happy new memories with him.
Gray hoped that someday he would find someone to create happy memories with him. A surreptitious glance over at Ruthie caught her watching him just as she used to do at the piano, and he quickly jerked his gaze back to his grandfather. He had thought Ruthie was the one, and they’d made a good start at creating happy memories, but it wasn’t meant to be. Too much murky water under that bridge.
Sobo’s sleep-groggy voice drifted to them from the other room.
Aware now of the delicate medical condition Sobo had kept so well hidden all these years, Gray wondered again if he’d made a mistake in inviting Tomiko here today. “Do you think Sobo can handle the shock of meeting her sister after so much time has passed?”
Pop paused at the door and considered his answer. “I suppose we should let her make that decision.”
He and Ruthie followed their patriarch down the hall to Sobo’s room, where she greeted them with her usual delight to see them.
As they entered the room, he caught Ruthie making an emu hand for silent prayer. Perhaps, like him, she was hoping that hearing the story about Tomiko would trigger Sobo’s memory. Strangely, he found he wasn’t annoyed by the ever-present sign of her faith.
He sat on the edge of the bed next to his grandmother. “Sobo, we have something very important to tell you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Pop started off by telling Sobo about mistakenly taking the doll and his box of war memorabilia to Gleanings for Ruthie to sell. Ruthie, now absolved of guilt for having sold the doll thanks to the recent turn of events, admitted that it had been sold and explained their attempts to find the customer and retrieve it.
Gray noticed the look of anxious concern that crossed Sobo’s face. “Don’t worry,” he quickly assured her. “It gets better.”
Sobo smiled and reached for Ruthie, who clasped her hand. But instead of holding on, Sobo placed Ruthie’s hand in his and patted them both. She didn’t know he and Ruthie had broken up again.
Gray sighed. That was more news they needed to tell her. But not today. Let her enjoy the reunion with her sister. No need to tarnish her joy. Not yet.
He went on to explain about the birthday party for Mrs. Kagawa’s aunt and the revelation that the woman now had two identical dolls.
Pop filled in the last, most pertinent bit of information. “You have a sister.”
Gray didn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t a curious tilt of her head and a blank expression. After all the final puzzle fragments had been pieced together today, he had assumed Sobo would look at the completed picture and recognize the image they had presented to her. Perhaps he had hoped her reaction would be even more excited than those of Tomiko and her family.
Love Inspired June 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Single Dad CowboyThe Bachelor Meets His MatchUnexpected Reunion Page 57
