Mrs Birnbaum unclenched her hands and sat back against a pillow. ‘Mr Litman, you will be travelling too?’
‘Not on this trip, I regret.’ He offered his most winning smile, reminding Anna of his shy cordiality two years ago. ‘But in Leah, you will have the most amiable of companions. A good conversationalist who knows how to be quiet when appropriate.’
Mrs Birnbaum laughed. ‘Excuse me, one does get tense at times like this. I’m afraid I’ve been horribly inhospitable. Welcome, both of you. I’m sure we’ll all become friends.’
Leah offered Mrs Birnbaum a sweet. Meanwhile, Reuben dispatched the boxes and suitcases from the corridor. They sat and chatted for a few minutes. Then, suddenly, too soon, the whistle blew and a man’s voice announced over the loudspeaker, ‘Twenty minute warning. Will all visitors please leave the ship.’
Anna stared, petrified at the white loudspeaker, noticing that paint had stuck in some of the tiny holes. Reuben moved closer on the bench and put his arm around her.
Mrs Birnbaum looked at Leah. ‘Why don’t the two of us take a stroll? You can show me the ship. Do you know where the lounge is?’
‘Yes.’ Leah jumped up. ‘We passed it on the way down, didn’t you see it? Let me show you. Is that OK, Mummy, is that OK?’
Anna nodded and smiled gratefully at Mrs Birnbaum. ‘We may just take a stroll ourselves.’ Turning back to Leah again, she whispered, ‘Do you want to say good-bye to Reuben now, love.’
‘Yes, yes, yes. Oh, Reuben, what will we do without you?’
Anna wondered which movies Mark had been taking her to. But the girl was crying, her face caved in with grief, as if this were the first time she had realized the adventure involved sacrifice.
Reuben picked her up. ‘We’ll meet again, beauty, you’ll see. I’ll come for you in America.’
Leah regarded him questioningly and then threw her arms around his hair. Reluctantly, she climbed down and escorted Mrs Birnbaum to the deck.
Anna couldn’t speak. She took his hand and stared at his large brown eyes.
He drew her close and they held tightly, rocking, sighing, rocking, sighing. Pulling slightly apart, she studied his face and trembling lips. Her hat fell on the floor and he retrieved it with a gallant flourish.
‘Ten minute warning, ladies and gentleman. All visitors must leave the ship at this time. Ten minute warning.’ A second whistle sliced across the cabin.
Wordlessly, they walked toward the stairs. Anna stopped abruptly and returned to lock the room, castigating herself for being so irresponsible. Here she was, not yet even embarked, letting another woman care for her child and leaving their cabin open to intruders. He took her hand; quickly they climbed the stairs.
She had counted on a long line at the gangplank, but most of the visitors had already departed. The whistle shrieked again.
She gave him another deep, rocking hug and whispered into his chest, ‘I love you, Reuben. I will miss you, bear. Thank you, oh, thank you.’
‘I love you.’ He struggled to keep his voice steady. ‘I’m coming for you, I promise. What’s an ocean?’
‘Yes, yes.’ She nodded and kissed him passionately. They held each other until the next whistle. Then slowly they let go. He walked down the gangplank, turning every third step to wave and smile.
She squeezed into a place by the rail, keeping an eye on him. At first he didn’t see her. She waved frantically, knocking her hand into her hat. Impulsively, she took it off, let it go and watched the hat float down to him. He managed to catch it. Laughing, he put it on his head and waved broadly. She waved back, recalling Wanda on that awful bus trip to camp. The tears streamed down her face as she thought of all the subsequent departures of these last few years. She missed Mama so badly. They seemed to be moving, no, that was just the rocking of the ship, which, she realized, had been going on since they boarded.
‘I love you,’ he called. ‘I love you,’ she shouted back. She kept her eyes on him — silly, dear man in the veiled, felt hat. The turquoise bow looked ridiculous.
‘Drive safely,’ he called.
‘Yes.’ She waved. Oh, how could she be leaving him like this? He was right, there was so much work to do here. So much unsettled about the children. Her chest ached. Well, she could still stay. She could run down the gangplank. Yes, she thought, that would be the braver choice, to stay in London. She started to turn from the rail.
Then she remembered Leah. She had made her decision. No matter where she lived, she would be leaving someone. The next whistle was almost drowned out by the wrenching screech of engines as the ship inched away from the dock.
Chapter Thirty-One
Christmas 1945, San Francisco
CHINESE AGREE TO AXIS TREATIES
PROPOSEDIN MOSCOW
TWENTY-EIGHT NATIONS ESTABLISH
BRETTON WOODS BANK
GENERAL GEORGE S. PATTON JR BURIED IN
LUXEMBOURG
US NATIONAL CHRISTMAS TREE LIGHTED AT
WHITE HOUSE FOR FIRST TIME SINCE 1941
TEDDY STOOD BEFORE THE TREE which was a truly grande dame in skirts of tinsel and popcorn, sparkling with red, green and blue balls. Elegant. Spirited. It reminded her of the trees they used to cut in Oklahoma. Pop lost interest in big trees once they reached California; he claimed trees didn’t know how to grow out West. But Pop, Jolene would argue every Christmas, they had got the biggest trees in the world out here. And, every Christmas he told her not to sass him as they put up a scrawny four-foot bush in the corner of their living room.
One thing Teddy had always loved about Stockton Street was the big trees, why you couldn’t fit anything else in these high-ceilinged rooms. The other girls didn’t really care. Anna and Wanda had never celebrated Christmas and Moira laughed, trying to explain Southern California Yule on the beach. So each year Teddy would drag in a big tree like this — 7 or 8 feet — and they would have a party decorating it on Christmas Eve. At first, she knew, they indulged her. But it had become one of the Stockton Street rituals. She shook her head, maybe she should have waited and let them decorate the tree, but she had wanted it to be perfect when they arrived. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to invite them, for she hadn’t known until the last minute that Moira would be in town. Everybody said it was a great idea and that they would try to make it. Perfect. She checked her watch. 8.00. She told them to drop by any time after eight. She hurried back to the kitchen for the cookies and eggnog.
She wasn’t sure about the eggnog. It seemed the sophisticated thing to serve. Had she used enough rum? Or maybe too much? Wanda wasn’t keen on alcohol. Should she be serving it in this old punchbowl set, with two chipped glasses, or should she have settled for paper cups? Somehow the paper ones didn’t seem right.
Teddy closed her eyes, wondering who would arrive first. Probably Anna or Moira, because the kids would have to go to bed early. But then Mrs Nakatani didn’t like late hours either. Teddy was worried about the presents. Had she found the right doll for Leah? She was such a little mother, so unlike Anna in some ways. Teddy had opted for the doll that drank water and then released it through both ends. Tess seemed too young for a doll, so Teddy had chosen a furry brown monkey. It was even harder to select presents for their mothers. The blouse for Moira — she did still like green, didn’t she? What a ridiculous question; it had only been a few months since she left the house. Would Anna wear the earrings and would Wanda use the fancy pen? She had been careful — personal and generous — but not extravagant in case they would be embarrassed. Well, if anyone complained, she would say she got a good discount at the Emporium and she had a little extra money to fiddle with since she didn’t have a kid and her rent was free. Worry. Worry. You could try enjoying Christmas, Teresa Fielding. 8.30.
The doorbell rang twice, quickly. Must be Moira, she sighed; only Moira was that impatient. Teddy noticed that she was both relieved and ner
vous because she doubted that Moira would actually show up. Smoothing out the front of her dress, she hurried to the door. Teddy wished she hadn’t invited Randy, but what else could you do on Christmas Eve? She would be polite and ask him about the garage.
Four young carollers stood in the cold, singing ‘Away in a manger’. Sweet, thought Teddy, concealing her disappointment. She leaned against the doorframe, shivering, not wanting to get a sweater, not wanting to encourage them to prolong the singing.
‘Thanks,’ she waved and dug 50 cents from her pocket. ‘Merry Christmas.’
She sat back on the couch and poured herself an eggnog. Really, she should wait. But this would help her relax. She hoped the girls didn’t mind that she had asked Dawn and Sandra. Of course, they would all bring other people too. And even though Dawn and Sandra weren’t part of the family, they had been a big part of this house during the last few years. It was nice of them to change their plans tonight, she should think about it that way. Oh, what was she going to do when they moved away? Sometimes it seemed as if everybody moved except her. Everybody had gone through enormous changes and here she was in the same house, with the same job. No, no, this was exaggerating. She had shared a lot with Moira and she had grown up since then. She was more sure about being a … lesbian. Yes, there were some times with Dawn and Sandra when she felt quite special being a lesbian. So what if she still lived in the same house. Progress didn’t require geographical movement.
8.35. When were they going to arrive? It wasn’t the wrong night or anything? No, the carollers had come; this was obviously Christmas Eve. Should she have held an open house all day tomorrow? Would that have been easier on people? But they might have missed each other that way — some coming at noon; some coming at 5.00. Tonight would be the first time they had all been together since Wanda left.
This had seemed like a good idea — people dropping by for a drink! A few toasts, a couple of photos, maybe a song and then people could drift back to their own lives. 8.37. She couldn’t wait any longer, so she walked over to plug in the lights. Standing back, admiring how the white bulbs winked like candles in the colored glass balls, Teddy was filled with nostalgia for her family Christmases.
The doorbell rang again.
Wanda sat in the living room waiting for Mama to make up her mind about Teddy’s party. Should she remind her that they were supposed to decide by 8.00? Would that set her off again? Bad enough that Betty should go carolling with her high school friends, leaving Wanda to umpire as usual: Mama wanting to protect her younger daughter from the vulgarity of Western culture and Betty demanding ‘a normal American life’. Sometimes Wanda let the two of them argue. She had thought about going alone to Teddy’s house. Tonight it didn’t seem right to leave Mama solitary in her principles. Not that Christmas was an important observance in their house, but this afternoon Mama had put fresh flowers in front of Papa’s and Howard’s photographs.
Wanda turned to the Christmas cards on the living room table. The blue and white Madonna was from Mrs Wright, who was so happy to have her husband back in Chicago. This was, what, the third or fourth time the woman had written and Wanda needed to respond. Mrs. W was always gently urging her to accept the scholarship at her friend’s college. She wasn’t such a bad old bird, Wanda knew, and she felt touched by her persistence. Still, the woman did not understand her family responsibilities.
The red Santa was from Carolyn. Wanda had read this card over and over; at first her delight was edged with jealousy, but now she felt mostly pleasure.
Really enjoying the term here. The baby has only been sick once and the Andersons take her while I’m in class. You’d love Portland, Wanda, right on the water, with beautiful bridges and parks. I miss the San Francisco weather, but most of all I miss friends. Any chance you could come up during Christmas break? How is your mother? And Betty? Is she still practicing? …
It was good for Carolyn to get away. She had to start a new life. Carolyn needed school in a way that she, herself, didn’t. She had Roy. He would be coming home soon. At least that’s what his card said.
Spring, that’s the latest word. And I’ve never considered what a long season spring could be. Will they send us back in March or June? Well, either way, dear one, I’ll be spending the summer with you. That will give enough time to prepare for optometry school in the fall. The government money should cover us, in case you wanted to quit work and start a family or something. I can’t believe I’m writing this boldly. One thing the war has done — it’s taken away a lot of my silly shyness. I mean we do have to talk about things like this, don’t we. We’re not getting any younger. Oh, Wanda, I can’t believe we’ll see each other in — at most — six months. Can you believe it?
No, she couldn’t believe it. She wanted to see him now. Then again, she didn’t want to see him for another year or maybe two. This was the man she had been longing for. They had waited for the war to end. And now it had. They could get on with life. But that meant a lot of decisions.
It was difficult to move from a period when time seemed to control you into a freedom where you owned time, where you made decisions with it. For four years now, she had concentrated on getting through the day, through Papa’s death, through the camp drudgery, through Howard’s death, through the relocation to San Francisco. And now everything was supposed to return to normal, where she made normal choices about what to do with her normal life — when to get married, when to have babies. Why was it happening so quickly? Teddy would be a good person to talk to about this. Nothing ever went too quickly for her. Teddy, yes, she really had to phone.
Mama carried a tray of cookies. Oh, dear, she has forgotten the party, thought Wanda. Lately it felt as if Mama had given up. Papa and Howard gone. Dreams of Japan gone. She carried isolation low on her shoulders and moved like a faint shadow.
‘Thank you, Mama. I would have got this for us.’
‘You rush around all day. Time to take care of Wanda.’
Wanda watched her mother carefully.
‘Reading cards again?’ She handed Wanda a cup of tea.
She nodded. ‘I wonder if cards don’t make the season harder. People mean well, but …’
‘It’s more than lonely you feel, isn’t it, daughter?’
‘What do you mean?’ Wanda thought about the conversations they used to have when she was a teenager — her mother encouraging her to strike out on her own, not to be traditional like the other Japanese girls. Here was that familiar tone of voice — ironic and challenging.
‘Do you miss friends so much — or your old self?’
‘Sorry?’ Mama was metamorphosing too fast.
‘Do you miss your choices?’
‘I still have choices, Mama.’ She tried to steady her voice. ‘The problem is that there are too many choices.’
‘Which are?’
‘When Roy and I get married. When we start raising a family.’
‘What about Wanda’s choices?’
‘Those are my choices.’
‘Married choices. What about your own choices?’
‘Mama, could you be more direct?’
‘Writing.’
‘Those old dreams. The war changed the old dreams.’
‘Changed? Ruined?’
Wanda stared at her mother.
‘I have been thinking a long time. You should go to college now.’ She held up her hand. ‘Don’t interrupt. You have your own life, even if you are going to marry.’
‘But, Mama.’ Wanda tried to breathe normally, wondering if Mrs Wright had suddenly possessed her mother’s body. ‘How will we support the family?’
‘You’re smart enough for scholarships.’
Wanda shook her head. ‘But how will you …’
‘I earn enough for Betty and me. And if you get a scholarship and a part-time job, well, we can make it.’
‘Mama.’
Wanda tried again to contact the familiar spirit. ‘Really?’
‘Don’t be surprised. Anger gives strength. After time. When I gave up Japan, I put my mind on living here. No sense otherwise. Papa would say there is no sense living, unless living well.’
‘Oh, Mama, I love you. I, I …’
‘Yes. You have waited a long time for Mama to return to the family.’
Wanda shook her head, wishing all the more that they were going to Teddy’s tonight, so she could discuss school with her friends. But Mama looked settled and she didn’t want to spoil the mood by nagging about a visit to the Hakujin no girlfriends. Teddy would be OK. Anna would show up, probably with her father. She would call Teddy and explain later, after she and Mama had a chance to talk.
Anna sat back in the chair, exhausted, growing more tired by the minute as she watched Papa and Leah play. For a child with a bad cold, Leah had a lot of energy. For an old man, Papa could keep up the pace. Why was she exhausted? She didn’t know, but she felt one of the headaches coming and, if she pushed it, they would be in trouble, so she just sat back and watched.
She was lucky they had taken to each other so well. Not that she was surprised that Papa would love Leah. Oh, at first, she imagined he might worry that she wasn’t his flesh and blood, might feel squeamish about her calling him Grandpa, but he had adored Leah from the minute he saw her at the train station. ‘She’s so like your Mama,’ he had said cryptically; Anna still had not asked him to explain. Leah liked him hugely, and knew how to draw him out. It hadn’t been unqualified peace since they returned home. At first Papa had had a hard time with the child’s noisy exuberance. But after years of Mama’s muteness in the house and more years of her absence in the hospital, he had been relieved to relinquish the quiet.
‘Papa, will you have more tea?’ asked Anna.
‘Yes, Mummy. I’d like some tea, with milk and sugar, please,’ said Leah.
‘Not you, Miss, you should be in bed.’ Anna shook her head.
‘Give her half a cup, Ann dear, it will help her sleep. Besides, we haven’t finished here. Mr Fox must escort Miss Rabbit back to her hutch.’
All Good Women Page 47
