“I was about to call you,” Miss Rasmussen said from the kitchen doorway, “but I knew the pancakes would do that for me.”
Macy drifted into the dining room, following the sweet aroma. She stopped in surprise. The pancakes were not alone beside the cookie tree. A book-size package wrapped in gold paper also waited there.
Macy slowly moved closer, almost expecting the package to vanish before her eyes, but she wasn’t imagining it. A tag with Mama’s handwriting read, For my dearest Macy.
Her eyes misted suddenly. She couldn’t even reach for the package, still fearing that it might vanish at a touch. “Is it . . . for me? Really?”
Papa answered as he came into the dining room. “When your mother knew she would not be here to share Christmas with us, she asked me to save this for you.” He hesitated, then added, “She would have enjoyed your little cookie tree. It seemed right to put her gift beside it.”
Macy reached out with shaking hands and slowly untied the ribbon. She felt as if Mama had heard her message in the stars and reminded Papa of the gift. For a moment, she held it close, feeling close to Mama.
When she removed the bright paper, she found a leather-bound journal with her name on the cover in gold. Inside, a note in Mama’s flowery writing said, My darling, I hope you will remember the fun we’ve had together and share those memories with our Miss Tokyo whenever you open this little book.
Blinking through misty eyes, Macy said softly, “Mama used to say that even when times are hard, we can always find something to be happy about. I’m going to do that. I’m going to write in my journal every day. I’ll write notes to Mama and read them to Miss Tokyo, so Mama can hear them.”
“There are a couple of cards for you to open after breakfast,” Papa said. His eyes looked bright, as if he held back tears, but his smile remained steady. “Your mother wanted you to have her gift first thing this morning.”
Mama never could wait, Macy remembered, swallowing a lump in her throat as she returned Papa’s smile. Mama had always wanted to open gifts the moment they came downstairs. Papa insisted on breakfast first, but sometimes gave in to opening just one gift before even tasting Miss Rasmussen’s special pancakes.
Now Macy felt as if Mama were here, sharing Christmas with them. She stroked the cover of the new journal, happy that Mama’s gift was the one opened before breakfast.
When at last the dishes were washed and put away, Papa offered two red envelopes, each with Macy’s name on the front, the first in her brother’s familiar scrawl. She wrote often to Nick. He wrote back when he had time. These two cards were like special Christmas presents. She opened the first, giggling at a cartoon of Mickey and Minnie Mouse waving U.S. flags from inside a Christmas wreath.
A flash of silver fell from the card. She scooped it from the table. “Look, Papa, a little silver anchor on a chain.”
She opened the card to find a note. The boys won’t want to rip this one from your neck. Wear it proudly for your brother in the U.S. Navy.
“I will!” she said, as if Nick could hear her.
While Miss Rasmussen helped her link the chain behind her neck, Papa pointed out the second red envelope. “There’s another. Looks like it’s from Nick’s buddy.”
“Hap?” She breathed his name, hardly daring to believe he’d sent a card, but there was his name up in the corner.
“It’s like Hap to remember this would be a sad Christmas for you,” Papa said.
She hardly heard him as she pulled the flap loose. Hap had mailed it from the marine boot camp in San Diego, California. She wondered how long it had been here without her suspecting.
This one made her laugh, too. “Look, Papa. Santa’s in a flying navy ship, dropping presents down chimneys.”
She couldn’t tell Papa that Hap was going to be her husband someday. He’d call her silly and remind her of the age difference, but it didn’t matter. Hap had promised to wait for her to grow up.
She sat beside Miss Tokyo’s stand to write the first notes to Mama, reading aloud as her pen moved. Dear Mama, thank you so much for the pretty journal with my name on the cover. I love it, just as you knew I would. It made Christmas special even though we are all missing you.
Nick sent me a little silver anchor on a chain. I’m going to wear it every day, so everyone will know I’m as patriotic as they are.
She looked up at the doll. “Do you think she heard me?”
“Oh yes, Macy-chan,” the doll answered in her pretend voice. “Mama is pleased to hear that you love her gift. She misses you, too.”
The doll’s voice broke in a sob. Macy didn’t say any more, for fear her voice would not be steady, either. Christmas without Nick and Mama was too hard to think about. It should have been a day to spend with family, so when Papa decided to dust and polish everything in the museum, she worked beside him. When she straightened Miss Tokyo’s kimono and smoothed the doll’s black hair, she felt Mama nearby.
It was good to keep busy, but when vacation was over, she was glad to return to school. Most of the girls admired the silver anchor and even some of the boys said it looked swell. Macy was happy to report to Mama that the anger so many had turned on her after Pearl Harbor had begun to fade.
She stroked her fingertips over her name embossed in gold on the cover of her new journal. The soft leather felt welcoming, as if warmed by her mother’s touch.
In school, the teachers explained that the town would be holding blackouts for the duration of the war. If the warning siren blew, everybody had to turn out their lights within sixty seconds.
“Most of your parents are installing blackout curtains,” Miss Stewart told Macy’s class.
“Will those let us keep lights on inside the house?” Lily asked.
Miss Stewart nodded. “Blackout curtains won’t allow light to pass.” She walked around her desk and leaned against it. “Each of you must help. It will be your part of the war effort to check every window for your parents to make sure the curtains are tight and that no light comes through along the sides or bottom.”
“Why?” asked a girl in the back who had been whispering to a friend instead of paying attention.
One of the boys turned to scowl at her. “To keep enemy planes from seeing light and knowing where to drop their bombs, dummy.”
“Are enemy planes coming here?” The girl jumped to her feet as if ready to run but not sure which way to go.
“Sit down, Amy,” Miss Stewart said. “We have people watching the skies. No enemy planes have been seen. We mean to be ready just in case.”
Mark laughed. “Yeah. We don’t want to be like Amy, running around calling, ‘What? Where? What am I supposed to do?’ ”
Miss Stewart made the class stop laughing and take the blackout seriously. “It’s going to be very, very dark outside, especially when clouds block out the moon.”
Christopher grinned. “Sounds like a good time to go around to girls’ windows and make scary noises.”
Mark laughed. “I can already hear them screaming!”
Again, Miss Stewart called for order. Macy glanced over at Lily, who had become silent and very pale. “Don’t worry, Lily. Those boys won’t have the nerve to go out in the dark to try and scare us.”
She wasn’t sure that was true, but Lily looked relieved, and Macy was determined to be brave.
Another girl raised her hand. “My dad read in the paper that we might have to paint the White House black so enemy planes won’t see it.”
Mark grinned. “They’ll have to change its name, too. We’ll have to start calling the White House the Black House.”
Macy asked, “Is that true, Miss Stewart? Are they thinking of painting the White House?”
“I’ve heard that rumor,” the teacher answered, “but the people in Washington, D.C., don’t agree.” She glanced around the room. “How many of you believe the White House should be painted?”
Several raised their hands. When Miss Stewart asked how many believed it should be kept w
hite, more hands went up. “Leland,” she said, “you voted for black paint. Why do you believe that’s a good idea?”
“So enemy planes can’t see it.”
She nodded and asked, “Macy, why did you vote to keep it white?”
“There are a lot of white buildings in Washington — the Capitol and others. They represent our country. We should be proud of them and not hide them from anybody.”
“You should hide,” a girl said from behind her in a low voice. It sounded like Rachel. “Nobody likes you anymore.”
Macy refused to turn around to see if it was Rachel being mean, but the back of her neck felt tight, as if her skin were braced against possible spitballs. She kept her hands on her desk even though she wanted to clasp the kokeshi doll she still wore beneath her collar to feel closer to Mama.
In a louder voice than usual, Lily said, “After the war is over, black paint would be really hard to clean off the white marble.”
“That’s a good point,” Miss Stewart said, and called the class to order again when everybody started talking. “One more thing. The school will be holding a scrap drive. I expect all of you to urge your mothers to save empty tin cans and extra cooking fat.”
Amy raised her hand. “What about the old cannon in the square? It’s not good for anything and it’s made of solid metal. Can we donate that?”
“No!” the boys exclaimed, while several girls looked horrified.
Christopher said, “That’s part of history. It’s from the old fort outside of town way back from when we were still a territory instead of a state.”
Miss Stewart raised her hand to stop a dozen protests. “There are no plans to melt down any of our memorials.”
Leland said, “I’ll bet we’ll have to if our country gets invaded!”
“For now, we’ll leave the old cannon where it is,” Miss Stewart said. “Please collect whatever scrap metal you can find.”
In her letters to Mama, Macy began counting the days until Nick would come home on leave after training to be a sailor. Only ten more days, Mama.
Now we only have nine days to wait until Nick comes home.
It’s seven days . . . five . . . three . . . !
Nick came home on leave on a blustery day in early February. Rain slanted into the rail station on gusts of wind while Macy waited with Papa for Nick’s train. When one of the gusts carried the lonesome sound of the train whistle, she raced outside onto the platform.
Iron wheels screamed down the rails. The engine slowed and cars clattered past, moving more and more slowly. Macy scarcely felt the rain or the wind as she jumped up and down, trying to see into each window. Men were crowded into every seat and standing in the aisles. It was impossible to see her brother.
The wheels finally ground to a stop. People crowded from inside the station onto the platform, eager to greet returning servicemen.
For a moment, Macy didn’t recognize the sailor stepping from the train in a white uniform and cap, with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Then he saw her and grinned. She ran shouting to meet him. “Nick! Nick!”
He dropped the bag and swept her high. “Hey, Sis!”
He whirled her around and set her down, marveling. “You weigh almost as much as my seabag. And you’ve grown taller! Have I been away so long?”
She hugged him with all the fierce love churning through her. “Yes! I miss you more now than on the day you left!”
Laughing, he tousled her hair. “You wouldn’t want me to hang back and not do my part.” He glanced around. “Where’s Pop?”
“Back there.” She stepped away, wiping her eyes. Nick waved before swinging the bag — his seabag, she reminded herself — onto his shoulder again. Together, they wove through the people still crowding the platform.
Papa came to meet them, his hand outstretched. “Welcome home, son. It’s good to have you back.”
Macy couldn’t remember ever seeing Papa’s whole face light up with a smile like the one he had as he and Nick clasped hands.
Hap came home the next day. When he came by to visit, Macy watched him talk with Nick and Papa and saw that Hap and Nick were both changed. Their eyes held a faraway look, as if part of them were already off somewhere fighting the war.
That look made her shiver. Mama would have said a goose had crossed her grave. But later, when the sun came out, she walked to the drugstore soda fountain between her brother and Hap. They wore their uniforms, and she felt proud and excited to walk with them. She hoped everyone she knew would see them together, especially the people who hated Miss Tokyo.
Nick asked her about that. She tried to make it sound funny even when her smile wouldn’t stay in place. Both Nick and Hap pressed her shoulders and said she was the one in the right. Miss Tokyo had nothing to do with the war.
They had such a short time at home, and the days flew by. Hap spent most of his time with his family, and Nick was often over there. Far too soon, they were both at the rail station again, waiting for the train. They couldn’t say where they were going, but everyone knew they would soon be fighting in the war.
Macy fought back tears and tried to smile. To her surprise, Hap pressed an envelope into her hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, and was caught by friends crowding around to say good-bye.
She waited until she was alone at home to open the card and laughed out loud at a picture of a fuzzy dog wearing a helmet and holding up a rifle with a flag hanging from the end. The flag said, A Valentine Hello!
Inside, Hap’s writing was kind of scrawly, and she frowned to make it out. Happy Valentine’s Day to a brave girl. I’m counting on you to win the fight at home and take good care of Miss Tokyo for me.
Macy pressed the valentine to her cheek when she saw that Hap had drawn a heart and signed his name inside.
“I promise,” she told him softly. “Miss Tokyo will be waiting for you when you come home again, Hap. I’ll be waiting for you, too.”
It was hard to think about schoolwork with both Nick and Hap gone again, this time not to train but to fight in the war. When she sat at the table after dinner with her books spread in front of her, Macy couldn’t stop studying Papa’s map of the world and its colored map pins.
All those pins showed where men were fighting in Europe and getting shot or bombed. A shiver ran through her. Blue-star flags were in many windows now. Papa said it would just be a matter of time before they saw more gold-star flags like the one for Christopher’s uncle Ray, who had died at Pearl Harbor.
Macy jerked to her feet and grabbed a blue-painted pin from the box. “This is Nick’s ship,” she told Miss Rasmussen. She studied the big map on the wall. “I’m going to put it where Nick will be safe.”
Would that be in the middle of an ocean? Maybe enemies were watching the coastlines. Miss Stewart had talked about shipping lanes. Those would be well known, though. The enemy would know them. They might not be safe for Nick.
Papa spoke from the doorway. “What are you doing?”
Macy stabbed Nick’s pin into the ocean near Australia. “This is Nick’s ship. I’m putting it where he’ll be safe.”
“You know that won’t help Nick. And it makes a joke of my map. His ship is certainly not off the coast of Australia. Take out the pin.”
Macy didn’t budge. “Then where is his ship?”
“That information is classified.” Frown lines deepened in Papa’s forehead. “You’ve seen the posters saying that loose lips sink ships. If people knew where our ships are sailing, word would eventually get back to the enemy.”
Macy stood in silence for a moment, studying the map with Papa. “They’ll come home, won’t they? Nick and Hap? When the war is over, they’ll come home.”
“No one knows ahead of time how any battle will go.” Papa gazed at the red and gold map pins he had placed in Europe. “A famous Civil War general once said that war is . . . terrible.”
Macy was pretty sure the general had used stronger language, but it meant the same thing.
She looked at Papa, waiting for the answer he hadn’t given her. She needed to hear that Nick was coming home.
When Papa remained silent, Macy’s entire body seemed to tighten, as if pulling away from anything hurtful. Papa wasn’t sure Nick and Hap would ever come home. He was like Lily in some ways. He had pretended Mama would get well, but he couldn’t pretend now. He wouldn’t say what wasn’t true.
Macy used her sleeve to wipe tears from her cheeks.
She felt Papa’s hand, warm and strong on her shoulder. “I can promise you this much. If at all possible, when this war ends, they’ll be on the first ship home.”
Macy was able to breathe again. Papa still thought that day might come.
He pulled out the blue-headed pin. “Even if we knew where Nick’s ship was, we would not mark a spot on the map. Your friends might tell somebody and they’d tell somebody, and eventually Nick’s location could reach the enemy.” Papa dropped the pin into a wooden box on the buffet. “The map is not a toy, Macy. Remember that.”
He gathered some papers from the table and left the room. Macy stared at the map with its tiny hole where her pin had been.
Gently, Miss Rasmussen said, “He worries about Nick. We all do.”
“That’s why I’m keeping Nick safe.” Macy located the blue pin, glanced after Papa, then chose a spot off the coast of California and settled Nick’s ship firmly in place. “There. He’s almost home.”
She sat at the table and opened her history book. Having Nick safe, even if it was a kind of pretend, made homework go faster.
Early in the spring, Betsy Oshima and all her family were told to pack what they could into one suitcase each. They were told to board a train and travel to an internment camp in Arizona. Papa explained that anyone with even one-sixteenth Japanese blood would have to spend the length of the war in a special camp.
“They’ll be safer there,” Papa told Macy. “Remember how . . . angry . . . people have been about Miss Tokyo. There will be even stronger feelings against the Oshimas. They’ll be at risk if they stay on their farm here.”
Dolls of War Page 6
