“I would like that.”
Carefully, Chiyo placed her bundle on the table. “It’s Emily Grace,” she said as she unwrapped the doll. “She’s hurt. Please, Hirata-san, will you help her?”
He called to the housekeeper for tea, then lowered himself to a cushion beside Chiyo and looked curiously at the doll. Mrs. Sasaki hurried in with a tray.
“Someone cut her all apart,” Chiyo explained. “Headmaster was going to throw her away. I didn’t know what to do. So I brought her here. Can you . . . can she be fixed?”
The doll maker studied her for a long moment before looking again at the doll. “Perhaps. But tell me, how did this come about?”
Why did people always want to know the bad parts? Why couldn’t they see what had to be done and just set about doing it? Chiyo took a deep breath, then went through the whole thing again, as she had told it to Yaeko and, in part, to Mori Masaru.
Hirata-san sipped his tea, glancing occasionally at Emily Grace. At last, he lifted the doll’s body and studied the bits of rubber bands still visible in the holes where her arms and legs had been attached. “I have not seen this before. Our dolls with moveable joints have fabric fastening them to the body.”
He was going to refuse to help Emily Grace. She could feel it coming. At least he was nicer than his housekeeper. He had let her get warm before sending her away.
“I have no bands such as these in my workshop,” he explained.
“No,” Chiyo whispered. No, he wouldn’t have. He didn’t make dolls like Emily Grace. She reached for the doll and began to bundle the coverings around her.
“I will send a boy to locate bands of the right length and weight,” the doll maker said. “If none can be found, then lengths of fabric passed through her body may serve to hold the parts together. Either way, repairing her will be interesting.”
Chiyo sank back on the cushion. He would help! He might use fabric lengths. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Emily Grace would be whole again.
Hirata-san rose to his feet. “First, I must inform your school that you are safe.”
“And Miss Tamura is helping me place the dolls.” The museum curator removed a scroll from his tunic and spread it on the table.
Chiyo leaned closer to look at the diagram of the two-story doll palace with many rooms. He had shown her parts of it in the noodle house, but she had not seen it spread open. She turned to him in surprise. “This shows a garden with a pond and flowers.”
He nodded. “The palace will be mounted on a cabinet so that children may stand at eye level with the dolls.” For several minutes, Chiyo leaned over the plan, deciding where dolls might pretend to share tea or stand before a mirror choosing pretty ribbons or enjoy the garden while watching koi in the pond.
At last, Mori Masaru-san rolled up his plans. His smile thanked Chiyo even more than his bow. They had become friends while they planned for the dolls. She was sorry to see him leave.
Mrs. Sasaki came in with a bento box and suggested lunch in the garden. Chiyo gathered her sewing kit and the doll’s torn dress and followed the housekeeper outside, pleased to see that the rain had stopped. Bright sunlight brought warmth to the terrace.
The housekeeper paused in the doorway. “Hirata-san has questions for you to consider. He asks, what is to become of the doll once she is repaired? Will she be safe when you return her to your school?”
The questions hung in the air with Chiyo while the housekeeper closed the screen, leaving her alone with the raked rocks of the garden.
Chiyo answered in silence. I spent the mayor’s money to bring Emily Grace to Tokyo because the school wanted to throw her in the trash. I may be forbidden to attend Masako’s wedding. Emily Grace is mine now, and I’m keeping her with me. Forever!
Still the doll maker’s questions circled like smoke from green wood. She couldn’t get away from them. She thought of the mayor placing the protector’s medal on its ribbon over her head. The medal was a promise to keep the doll safe for the girls. All the girls.
And I tried, she argued silently. But they called me vain and wouldn’t let me stay with her. And Hoshi cut Emily Grace apart.
Maybe Hirata-san didn’t understand. She would explain the danger to Emily Grace when she talked to him again. He must see that the doll should not go back to the school.
She chose a stone bench on the sheltered terrace where she could look out at the raked white rocks. Before taking out her threads and needle, she explored the bento box and found rice balls, dried herring, and small pickled salt plums in the divided sections.
When the box was empty, she turned to her sewing. Gradually, the tranquillity of the garden soaked into her. She had no idea how much time passed while she worked on the doll dress. Shadows had grown longer before Hirata-san stepped onto the terrace. “Here is someone to see you.”
Chiyo sprang to her feet, dropping the dress to the bench. The doll maker held out Emily Grace, whole again and dressed in a small kimono. The doll’s arms reached toward her.
Tears slipped down Chiyo’s cheeks as she hugged Emily Grace. “Arigatogozaimasu, Hirata-san. Arigato . . . !” Her voice broke and she swallowed hard. After choking back tears so often, it was foolish to cry because she was happy!
“Have you forgiven that wicked girl?” Chiyo asked the doll. She imagined Emily Grace’s answer. Emily Grace wanted to continue the adventure that had brought her all the way across the Pacific Ocean.
With reluctance, Chiyo answered the question he had asked through the housekeeper. “She will go back to Tsuchiura Girls’ School. She came a long way for all the girls there. I must trust Headmaster to keep her safe this time.”
“He is sure to do that,” the doll maker said gently. “I will drive you to your school before the day grows later.”
Chiyo gathered her sewing materials and followed him back into the house. She was to ride in yet another automobile. Secret pleasure warmed her as she imagined the girls’ surprise when they saw her arrive.
“The school expects Yamada Nori to come for you late today.”
She had forgotten that this was the day Yamada-san was to remove her from the school. But if she left, who would watch over Emily Grace to be sure the school kept the doll safe?
Hirata Gouyou’s car was more like Yaeko’s than the mayor’s big automobile. Chiyo sat in front with the doll maker, holding Emily Grace in her new kimono. As the miles rushed by, Hirata-san asked her about the doll palace. Chiyo was happy to describe each story grouping of dolls she and Mori-san had planned.
Almost before she knew it, they reached Tsuchiura Girls’ School. No one was outside to see her arrive, but Yamada Nori’s horse stood tethered beside the gate, with the carriage behind it. Chiyo’s stomach felt as if her obi-jime were tied too tightly around her middle. She had to face questions again. Questions and disapproval.
The sooner she was inside, the sooner she could explain. She must show them how beautiful Emily Grace looked now. Surely Yamada-san would be proud of her for saving the doll.
She hoped he would be proud.
The moment the car stopped, she jumped from it, calling back to Hirata-san, “Arigatogozaimasu! I must go.” She ran toward the inside courtyard, wondering if Yamada Nori was in Headmaster’s office.
The school seemed strange to her, as if she were returning after a long time away. When she stepped inside, it all rushed back and she was on familiar ground.
She stopped, listening. Someone was crying nearby. Hoshi’s voice rose above the sobs. “You will say nothing. Nothing!”
Chiyo wanted to rush away from more trouble. But she couldn’t go on when someone needed help.The voices came from a small room where the girls ironed fabric for their sewing class. Cautiously, she cracked open the door.
Hoshi stood with her back to the door, gripping the wood handle of an iron heating on a hot stove. Shizuko faced her with tears running down her flushed face.
“They’ll ask me,” Shizuko said. “They’re ask
ing everyone.”
“You know nothing.”
“You cut the doll. I saw you do it. You put the pieces in Chiyo’s desk. I haven’t told, but they’ll know if they ask.”
Was it possible that the headmaster and teachers were trying to learn what had really happened? Shizuko knew all along. The knowledge slammed into Chiyo. That was why Shizuko had acted so strangely when she crawled onto her futon and wouldn’t talk.
Inside the sewing room, Hoshi raised the hot iron. “I warned you.”
“No!” Shizuko screamed. “Hoshi! Don’t!”
Chiyo shoved the door wide. “Hoshi! Stop!”
Hoshi swung around. Her eyes looked like those of a stray dog Chiyo had once seen cornered. She rushed at Chiyo with the raised iron.
Chiyo bent to place Emily Grace safely on the floor. When she sprang up, her head hit Hoshi’s elbow. Hoshi’s hand swung around. The hot steel seared into her heavy silk kimono. Shrieking, she dropped the iron. The metal plate left its burned shadow in the silk.
Hoshi kept shrieking while Headmaster Hanarai rushed in with Yamada Nori behind him. “What is happening here?”
Yamada-san reached for Chiyo. She turned to him, unsure whether he would protect her or blame her.
“Look what she did!” Hoshi held out the burned part of her kimono. “My best kimono! Ruined! It’s her fault. She ruined it! This school will hear from my father!”
Hirata-san stepped into the room. “It is better to burn a kimono than a girl’s face. I saw the entire incident.”
Shizuko had cringed back against shelves of fabric. Now she came forward. Her voice shook when she spoke to the headmaster. “Hoshi cut the doll. I saw her do it. She said she would burn me if I told.”
Girls crowded the doorway, trying to see in. From beyond them, Kaito-sensei called, “Young ladies, please! Return to your classrooms.”
Headmaster Hanarai looked as if a tsunami had washed him from his familiar world to one he didn’t know. “It was you, Miss Miyamoto? You damaged the doll? And now you’ve threatened harm to these girls?”
“Who says that? The doll maker?” Hoshi drew herself straight. “He’s her friend. He will say whatever she wants to hear.”
Headmaster turned. He looked flushed as he recognized the master doll maker, who had just been insulted. Bowing, he said, “Hirata Gouyou-san, you honor us with your visit.” Flushing even deeper, he added, “Sumimasen, the girl is upset. You saw this . . . what happened here?”
“I did.” Hirata-san stood solidly in the doorway, making it clear that he meant to be heard.
Headmaster Hanarai glanced at the girls still crowding nearby despite Kaito-sensei’s orders. “Go to your classes, all of you.”
They scurried away, sounding like pigeons on a roof, asking one another what had happened.
Chiyo picked up Emily Grace and straightened her kimono. She had pictured a grand return with the doll repaired and everyone impressed. Now the others scarcely noticed.
“We will go to my office,” Headmaster said. “Gentlemen, this way please. You three, too,” he added to Chiyo and the other two girls.
Hoshi shot a warning look at Shizuko, who looked scared but defiant.
“Too late,” Chiyo told Hoshi. “Everyone knows.”
As Headmaster continued to clear away curious girls, Yamada-san told Chiyo, “You don’t have to stay, little sister. We can leave right now.”
The offer tempted her. She wanted to leave the school, to let all that had happened fade into the past. She looked at the doll maker. His expression was hard to read, but she felt she knew his thoughts. He believed that she should stay.
“Headmaster may have questions for me,” she said, deciding. “And I want to be sure the truth is told.”
Hirata-san’s eyes warmed with approval. “She is a brave girl,” he told Yamada-san. “Brave enough to see this matter through.”
Realizing that the men had not met, Chiyo said quickly, “This is the doll artist Hirata Gouyou-san. And this is Yamada Nori-san, who plans to marry my sister.”
After all that had happened, she almost expected him to say, “In a thousand years, you could not convince me to marry your sister.” But she saw that he had come to support her, not to criticize.
After inviting the men into his office, Headmaster turned. “You three girls wait here. I do not want to hear a sound from any of you.”
They each chose a section of wall to wait against. Chiyo stood near Hirata Gouyou’s drawing of her, fearing that Hoshi still might try to destroy it.
Hoshi stood as far from Chiyo and Shizuko as possible, looking as if she had paused there by accident.
At last, Headmaster Hanarai opened the door for Hirata-san. After bowing to the doll maker, Headmaster said, “The school is grateful for your assistance in this matter and for returning our missing student.”
Hirata-san returned the bow, then nodded to Chiyo before walking away. Yamada-san left the office after a brief word to Headmaster Hanarai. His nod toward Chiyo was encouraging, but he, too, left the school.
“Come in, please,” Headmaster said, motioning to the three of them. They hurried after him into the office and stood in a row before his desk, hands clasped at their waists, eyes lowered.
Headmaster Hanarai sat behind his desk. “Miss Miyamoto, I have talked with your father by telephone. He happens to be in Tsuchiura and is on his way here to discuss whether you will be permitted to remain at this school.”
Hoshi’s head came up. “Not remain . . . ?”
“You may leave now to go directly home, Miss Miyamoto. I will discuss this further with your father.”
Would Hoshi be expelled, too? The possibility shocked Chiyo almost as much as it had Hoshi. I’m a nobody from the country, she told herself. No one will be surprised to see me leave, but everyone knows that Hoshi practically rules the school.
How would General Miyamoto react? Chiyo thought of his demands on Hoshi and couldn’t help pitying her — a little.
“Hirata Gouyou-san has explained what he heard and saw during the confrontation in the fabric room,” Headmaster said to Shizuko. “Your story is not necessary at this time. Be prepared, however, to be called from class if General Miyamoto should wish to hear exactly what you saw done to the doll.”
Shizuko bowed and hurried from the office, looking frightened at the thought of General Miyamoto.
Now me. Chiyo braced inwardly, expecting to hear again that she was unwelcome at the school. She wondered if Yamada-san had already offered to remove her.
Headmaster gazed at her for a long moment, as if considering his next words. “Miss Tamura,” he said finally, “I hope you understand how much distress you caused by leaving the school without a word to anyone, much less permission.”
“Sumimasen,” she apologized. “I promised to protect Emily Grace. I had to save her from the trash. And I was told I was not wanted at this school.”
Again, the headmaster let moments pass in silence. “It seems the school owes you an apology,” he said at last. “Perhaps our error equals yours.”
Their error? An apology? Was she hearing right?
“By arranging repairs to the American doll, you prevented a loss of honor to the school.”
Chiyo looked at him, too surprised to keep her eyes modestly lowered. Headmaster’s smile might have been thin, but it was there.
“Now that I have the facts, I am rescinding what I said earlier.” His gaze met hers. “Yamada Nori believes that you should leave Tsuchiura Girls’ School. He does not think us worthy of you. We at the school hope you will stay.”
Chiyo’s head reeled with the unfairness she had received here, especially the blame for hurting Emily Grace. They should have known she would never do that.
“I understand you may need time to think,” Headmaster Hanarai said into her silence. “Yamada-san is waiting to take you into town for tea. I will meet with you when you are ready to make your decision. Are we agreed?”
“Hai,
” she whispered, while questions and doubts ran through her head. She had expected to leave the school forever. Should she stay? She didn’t want to. Yet she did want to. She squeezed her hands together, unable to decide what she wanted.
The decision felt too big for her to make. As she bowed and left the office, angry footsteps pounded down the walkway along the courtyard, all but covering the flutter of girls escaping into nearby rooms.
Chiyo recognized the general’s footsteps before he came into sight, walking fast. She flattened against the wall to one side, trying to be invisible.
He strode past without glancing toward her and slammed open the door into Headmaster’s office. “When you failed my daughter, you failed me,” he roared. The door banged shut.
Chiyo ran as fast as her kimono allowed, to get away from the angry general. Yamada-san would be with his carriage beyond the front gate. She couldn’t wait to be in his friendlier company.
The end of her obi swung loose. Her kimono was coming apart, and her hair needed combing. Changing direction, she hurried to the second building and up the stairs to the sleeping area.
To her surprise, Mrs. Ogata held out her arms. “You have been through too much. I see it in your face. Come, let me straighten your obi.”
“I have to hurry,” Chiyo said, out of breath. “Someone is waiting.”
Mrs. Ogata nodded. Her assured manner and capable hands on the obi helped Chiyo breathe more naturally. Yamada-san would still be waiting if she took a little longer. He expected her to be with Headmaster for several minutes.
She combed her hair with hard pulls. Each pull felt as if she combed out memories of the too-short train ride, the drive with Yaeko, the doll maker’s stubborn housekeeper, and all the rest of it.
The need to escape eased only when she saw Yamada-san waiting with his carriage.
“You will have no more problems with Miyamoto Hoshi,” he told her as he helped her into it. “While I waited here, the general stalked back to his car. He shouted to anyone who would listen that he was removing his daughter. He blames the school for her problems.”
Dolls of Hope Page 16
