Dolls of Hope

by Shirley Parenteau

Hana said, “Yes, she is! The doll maker is going to put her face on a doll to represent all of Tokyo!”

  The conductor’s brows rose. “That is an honor! Young lady, you must take better care of this drawing.”

  “I will,” Chiyo promised as he handed it to her. She added fiercely to herself, I will never let it out of my hands again!

  The conductor moved on, and Hoshi said, “Poor Miss Tamura. Did you really think I would leave it there? It was a joke!”

  Hana said, “Jokes are supposed to be funny.”

  Oki-sensei added, “Miss Miyamoto, of course you mean to apologize.”

  Hoshi sighed and said, “I am sorry Chiyo couldn’t see the humor.”

  Chiyo thought, That’s not an apology. I don’t have to accept it.

  Sensei said with a tight expression, “Has the drawing been harmed, Miss Tamura?”

  “No,” Chiyo answered, looking carefully at both sides of the paper.

  “Then we will speak no more of it.”

  The incident might have been closed to the rest of them, the way the incident on the train platform was closed and the incident with the vase, but none were closed for Chiyo. She said low-voiced to Hana, “I don’t even want to walk like her anymore. I’d rather stomp than glide like Hoshi.”

  Hana agreed. “Sometimes stomping is best.”

  After returning the sketch safely to her pocket, Chiyo lifted Emily Grace into her lap and straightened her skirt and collar. The train rolled ahead. Wheels clacked out a rhythm on the rails, and gradually she relaxed.

  They passed more farms with thatch-roofed homes and outbuildings. The scenery began to look familiar. “We are almost home, Emily Grace,” she said, lifting the doll to the window. “You will like the lake, and you might see the ruins of the old castle where a shogun once lived.”

  Hana grinned. “In Tsuchiura, little changes except for an old castle settling into the mud.”

  “Here, a schoolgirl is just a schoolgirl,” Chiyo added with relief. “Someone no one ever notices.”

  Hana held her kokeshi toward the window. “Miki, welcome to boring Tsuchiura.” The train lurched, and the doll slipped from her hand and rolled into the aisle. Hana scrambled after it and accidentally knocked it farther away “Shizuko, my doll went under your seat.”

  “I’ll get it,” Shizuko promised, bobbing below the seat back.

  Chiyo watched Hana scramble to join her and smiled, thankful to be back in Tsuchiura. She held Emily Grace to the window again. “There’s the station. And Otousan and Okaasan! They’re with Yamada Nori! They’ve all come to meet the train.”

  She hugged the doll. “Maybe they’ve come to take me home!”

  Throughout the train, everyone was gathering belongings, preparing to leave. Chiyo edged around Hana and Shizuko, still on their knees hunting for the kokeshi. Holding Emily Grace close, she moved past Hoshi and Kimiko, who were sorting out their packages. She was first of their group to step onto the platform at the back of the car.

  Astonishment held her there.

  The station was full of people, even the headmaster. Bright banners fluttered over the platform. Someone was playing a flute, another, a drum. A group of students from Tsuchiura Girls’ School began to sing the welcome song.

  Headmaster Hanarai came forward. “Here is our doll ambassador,” he announced. “We are all eager to welcome the little traveler from across the sea.”

  As she stood in the doorway of the railcar, holding the doll she had brought safely all the way from Tokyo, Chiyo felt as though she had won a difficult race. Before bowing politely to the waiting people, she lifted a hand in a tiny wave just for her parents, a wave that said I see you and I love you and I can’t wait to be with you.

  Watanabe-sensei urged her forward. “Take the doll to Headmaster Hanarai, Miss Tamura. Everyone is waiting to meet her.”

  Chiyo felt as if pulled between two countries, like Emily Grace. The warm country of family and childhood pulled her one way. The new country of her school pulled another.

  Behind her, Sensei murmured, “You must officially hand over the doll.”

  Chiyo hesitated. She had loved Emily Grace and cared for her and kept her safe. Could she hand her away as if she were just some package brought from Tokyo?

  Behind her, Hoshi muffled a laugh. Hoshi thinks I won’t let the doll go. The uncertainty that had kept her on the small platform broke at the thought. As she crossed to the headmaster, she wondered what she should say. No one had told her. Did they expect her just to know?

  Headmaster Hanarai bowed when she reached him. She was surprised, expecting to bow first to him. Quickly, she bowed in return and offered him the Friendship Doll, who now belonged to the school.

  Words flowed from her heart. “Headmaster-san, here is Emily Grace. She has traveled all the way from America to bring the good wishes of American children.”

  Approval showed in his face as he answered. “The students and staff of Tsuchiura Girls’ School are honored to welcome the little ambassador.”

  The gathered people seemed to expect more. They all looked at Chiyo. What else could she say? Lexie’s haiku popped into her head. “Emily Grace brought us haiku written by the American girl who loved her. I would like to share one of the poems. It says,

  ‘Emily Grace glows.

  Her warm smile carries friendship.

  Sunlight after rain.’”

  Again, she saw smiles and approval. Headmaster Hanarai reached for the doll.

  “I promised to keep her safe.” The words burst from Chiyo, sounding as if she didn’t trust the headmaster to take care of Emily Grace.

  “You have done so,” he assured her, taking the doll from her arms as if he did not hold a piece of her heart in his hands. “When we have finished here, you may spend an hour with your parents, Miss Tamura. I understand they must leave for their home after that.”

  “Arigatogozaimasu, Headmaster Hanarai-san.” She bowed, struggling against turning and running to her parents at once. They were going home so soon! She didn’t want to lose one minute she could be spending with her family.

  The headmaster beckoned to her and to all the girls who had returned from Tokyo, asking them to join the others on the platform in singing “The Welcome Song” to Emily Grace. Again torn two ways, Chiyo stood beside Hana and joined her voice to the others.

  At last, the song ended. The headmaster spoke briefly, telling those gathered at the station how the Friendship Dolls had been sent to create peace between the two countries. “In two weeks, our school will hold a welcoming ceremony. Our girls are busy creating paper flowers to decorate a rickshaw. Emily Grace will be carried through town so that all may see and welcome her.”

  Chiyo glanced toward her parents, making sure they were still waiting. When could she go to them? She looked at Headmaster Hanarai, hoping to be dismissed, and saw Oki-sensei speaking to him. The teacher beamed at Chiyo.

  Headmaster Hanarai exclaimed, “Miss Tamura, you have been honored! Oki-sensei has just told me you have been given a sketch of yourself done by master doll maker Hirata Gouyou.”

  “Yes, headmaster-san.” Her voice sounded as uneasy as she felt.

  “May I see it, Miss Tamura?”

  She had already given up the doll! She had no choice but to bring out the drawing. She felt everyone staring at her as she reached into her pocket. “I mean to give it to my parents.”

  “Yes, of course.” Headmaster unrolled the picture, studied it, then held it up for others to see. “The artist has captured your spirit, Miss Tamura. We at Tsuchiura Girls’ School are as proud as your parents will be.”

  “Arigatogozaimasu.” She reached for the picture, but the headmaster had not finished.

  He held it away, smiling as if doing her a favor. “Tsuchiura Girls’ School will be happy to frame the drawing for you, if you will allow us to display it for a time.”

  Could she say no? What would happen if she said no? She wanted to snatch the drawing and run to Okaasan
and Otousan. Headmaster Hanarai was already placing it in his briefcase, as if she had agreed. The question had not been a question. He meant to display the picture at the school whether she wanted him to or not.

  She looked toward her parents and Yamada-san, hoping they would tell the headmaster to give back the drawing. Pride glowed from their faces.

  For them, she would remain silent. She would be the humble girl they wished her to be. But the drawing was hers. It would never belong to the school.

  At last, she was dismissed with the others. As people crowded around, she lost sight of the headmaster. She wove between people, needing to be with her parents. Others tried to speak to her, but she scarcely heard them and didn’t stop moving.

  When at last she reached her parents, proper manners flew from her head. Instead of a polite bow, she reached out to hug them both and felt their hands press warmly against her shoulders. Happy tears slipped down her cheeks. “I have missed you!”

  “As we have missed you,” her mother assured her.

  Yamada Nori urged them all into his carriage to ride to a teahouse where they could visit before her parents had to return home. As the beautiful horse pulled them through the streets, questions swarmed through Chiyo. She struggled to keep them inside. Her family and Yamada-san had sent her away to school to learn humility, not to rain questions on them.

  Even though she smiled and bowed and tried hard to act like a traditional girl, her mind raced while she toyed with her teacup. Did you see the drawing? she wanted to ask. It’s for you, to hang in the alcove. How are Yumi and Kimi? Is Masako preparing her three wedding kimonos? How I wish I could see them.

  “Yumi and her sister miss you,” Okaasan murmured while the men talked together.

  “I have so much to tell them!”

  Yamada Nori must have seen anguish in her face. Gently, he said, “You will have much to share with your friends and family when you return, little sister. But let us talk of Tokyo and your discoveries there. Did you enjoy the ceremony?”

  She thought of holding the forbidden doll, of being sent aside and told not to sing, of singing anyway, of the photographer . . . of her picture in the newspaper. Had they seen her picture?

  None of those subjects were safe, and she reached almost blindly for one that would be acceptable. “Miss Tokugawa accepted the first doll after welcoming the dolls to Japan. She was very graceful.”

  “You were wise to notice her graceful manners,” Yamada-san said. “Have you become friends with Miss Miyamoto?”

  Although he usually kept expression from his face, she could see the answer he expected in his eyes. He did not want to hear of the burned kokeshi or of Emily Grace stuffed into a vase.

  What could she say? “Miss Miyamoto . . . is much like her father.”

  Yamada-san nodded. “The general is known to be forthright and well respected.”

  “He wants to destroy the dolls!” The words burst from her, and she dropped her chopsticks in dismay. Everyone stared at her.

  “You misunderstood,” Otousan said.

  Chiyo felt her face flaming. Why had she thought General Miyamoto would be a safe subject? “He came to breakfast with us on the first morning. He said that welcoming the Friendship Dolls looked like weakness when our country should be expanding into others.”

  Okaasan sent warnings with her eyes, but it was too late to take the words back. Chiyo was afraid to look at Yamada-san.

  “Ah, well,” he said after a moment. “I have said he is forthright. Our emperor has welcomed the dolls. Therefore, all of Japan welcomes them.”

  Okaasan looked at her husband but spoke without his approving nod. Softly, she asked, “Chiyo-chan, is this girl difficult?”

  Chiyo almost laughed at the question. Was Hoshi difficult? But Otousan and Yamada-san were watching her. “I understand Miss Miyamoto,” she said, wanting to reassure her mother. “I think she understands me.”

  She glanced at Yamada Nori. “Her walk is very graceful, and she always speaks pleasantly. Only once have I heard her raise her voice, and that was in warning.”

  Otousan asked, “In warning? Of what, Chiyo-chan?”

  She had plunged straight into the subject she wanted to avoid. “A doll fell. Hoshi called a warning, but I was closer. I caught the doll. It was Emily Grace.” She looked uneasily at her mother. “A photographer took my picture.”

  “The one in the newspaper,” Yamada-san said. “We have wondered how the photo came to be.”

  Otousan said, “Yamada-san brought a copy of the newspaper to us. The picture is very good of you.”

  Okaasan added, “We framed it for the alcove, Chiyo-chan. When we look at the picture, we feel you near us.”

  Tears of relief swept through Chiyo, but she kept them from spilling. She had worried even more than she knew that the picture might change everything. Now, it seemed nothing had changed at all, and she could enjoy sharing the rest of her adventure. “The mayor sent an automobile for me! It was so big! And fast! When we drove down the street, boys ran after us shouting my name. Watanabe-sensei said I was a celebrity.”

  Her parents looked at each other. Had she said too much? She heard doubt in her voice as she asked softly, “Is a celebrity not a good thing to be?”

  Okaasan patted her hand. “It is in the past. You have nothing to worry about but listening well to your teachers.”

  Otousan added quietly, “Chiyo-chan, we are honored to be your parents. It pleases us that you are learning so much.”

  In both of them, Chiyo saw the look that had been in her mother’s eyes the day she warned that Japan was changing and that Chiyo must go to the new school and learn to change with it.

  All too soon, it was time for her to return there and for her parents and Yamada Nori to start for home. Chiyo bowed to her parents and especially to Yamada-san, who would be her brother when he married Masako.

  “You made everything possible,” she told him softly, wondering if she should have remained silent and simply bowed. “Arigatogozaimasu.”

  Yamada-san nodded but looked at her with an unsmiling expression. “We did not expect such excitement for you when we sent you to this school. It is good that you are back in Tsuchiura now, where you will resume your training.”

  Chiyo considered the warning behind his words as she watched him help her parents into the carriage. He was not pleased with her picture after all. She must be careful never to attract attention to herself again.

  For long moments, she lingered outside the school, watching the carriage roll away. She longed to be inside it, to be going home. In her memory, everyone at home was happy. Even Yumi only teased her because she loved her. Everyone there loved her. Her eyes blurred so that she had to keep blinking to hold the carriage in sight for as long as possible.

  Behind her, the school door slid open. “Chiyo!” Hana shouted, rushing through. “Chiyo! You’re back! I’ve been watching for you! Something awful has happened!”

  “Emily Grace?” Disasters crowded into Chiyo’s mind, each more terrible than the last. “Tell me! What’s happened? Where is she?”

  She grabbed for the door and pushed it wrong, jamming it.

  Hana put one hand on the door. “She’s fine. It’s us!”

  “Us?”

  “The ones who went to Tokyo. We’re doomed!”

  “The ones who went to Tokyo?” Chiyo drew a deep breath, trying to think. “What do you mean? Headmaster is proud of us.”

  “He’s too proud!” Hana moaned. “Kaito-sensei told us over tea to welcome us back. We are all to report on our trip. In front of the whole school! And parents! We have to talk in front of parents! I’m going to die!”

  “I thought something awful had happened,” Chiyo exclaimed.

  “It has! Didn’t you hear me? We have to give reports in front of the whole school. And parents! All of us!”

  Fear for Emily Grace had kept Hana’s words from sinking in. Talk in front of the whole school? In front of parents? “Oh.” C
hiyo heard her own voice sounding faint. “I thought we were supposed to be learning modesty.”

  “Kaito-sensei said modern girls will have to learn to talk when it’s necessary. She said we may even work in business offices someday. Like those flappers in Tokyo, remember?”

  Horrified, Chiyo asked, “She wants us to be flappers?”

  “No.” Hana giggled, then grew serious. “She said it will be good experience for us to tell everyone about our trip. And you . . .” She paused meaningfully. “You have the most to tell.”

  Chiyo swallowed. Hana was a politician’s daughter. She should talk as easily as her father. But I have never talked to a crowd, except to introduce Emily Grace at the station. “When? Not today!”

  “In two weeks. We’re supposed to think about the trip and decide what we will tell everyone.” Hana moaned again. “My mind is blank!”

  Chiyo’s mind didn’t feel blank. It felt like a pot with too much rice boiling higher and spilling over. What should she tell them? How much? How little?

  She tried to plan during the days following, days filled with classes and, in spare time, making paper flowers to decorate a rickshaw for the Friendship Doll’s welcoming parade.

  Emily Grace now sat on a small table in Headmaster’s office. Every chance she got, Chiyo peeked through the door to make sure the doll was safe.

  On the day they fastened the last of the paper flowers to the rickshaw, sunlight sparkled over the bright petals. Hana wore a large red blossom in her hair while she put the others into place.

  Chiyo teased, “When I see that bright red flower, I almost forget I have to talk in front of many people.”

  “Maybe I should wear two flowers,” Hana said. “One for me and one for you. We could both forget!”

  The finished rickshaw was taken by night to the station and kept inside so townspeople would not see it before the parade.

  When Chiyo removed the new kimono from its package in the morning, Hana helped her tie the obi and the obi-jime. The kimono fit as if she had been measured for it.

  “It will give you courage for your report,” Hana said, approving.