by Jill Jaynes
Tenderly, she said, “Sha, you can’t disbelieve something because it would be painful.”
“I got angry without thinking. He’s not like my parents. If anyone could have seen cruelty in him, it would be me.”
She knuckled the tears from her eyes. “What are you saying? That this picture is not of him?”
“I think it’s him. But that was almost thirty years ago. Some people change and grow as they get older. I hope I do. I think Jake changed. I think Jake believes he can now be the father he should be.”
Anger at last exploded in her stomach, and her teeth clenched. “No! He pretends to be so proud of his Japanese heritage. His calligraphy, his bonsai, his desire for me to learn about Japan. It all felt real,” she snapped, jabbing her finger at the photograph. “Look at that! His drawers are sticking out of his pants! This Jake, he could not have changed into the one I know.”
“How do you know? How can anyone know what a person is capable of becoming?”
“I so wanted a family again. I told Jake that. Why didn’t he tell me about my half-brother? Why did he leave me here alone?”
He reached for her. She jerked away. She wanted to hang on to her righteous anger. She was too tough to give in to self-pity. “Jake betrayed me. He should have found a way somehow to be a father. I longed for him every day.”
“Leonie, do you really believe the man in the photo could have been good for you? I don’t believe it. I think he would have harmed you, as my parents harmed me. Every moment, I have to fight to feel I am a worthwhile person. Every moment, I have to remind myself I don’t have to be perfect, that it’s okay to make mistakes. And I’ve made some doozies. The Jake in this photo? He would have bent or twisted you in some way, maybe even broken you.”
He put his arm around her, and this time she didn’t pull away, but leaned into him. She wished he would kiss her and make everything okay for a few minutes. “I don’t agree with you, sha. Not having my father around nearabouts broke me.” She paused, then decided to soften her words. “I’m glad you’re here with me, for sure. I would have been tore up bad if I had found this picture when I was alone.”
He drew Puff across the counter and into his arms. “I have to tell you something.” His voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear. “I haven’t seen my daughter, Ysabel, in six years. I miss her every moment, but Jessica says until my art pays well, my daughter is better off without me.”
“Your wife is full of crap! She’s punishing you for being who you are, a talented, hard-working artist. She’s twisting you just as your parents twisted you. Children need love, not money!”
Then the implications of his words sank in. She jumped back, repulsed by his touch.
“You abandoned your daughter?” she whispered, incredulous. “How could you? How could you?”
“I want Ysabel with me, but what kind of life can I give her?”
“You could give her what really matters in life. Love. Art. Beauty.”
“Jessica says I’m not mature enough, well off enough, stable enough, to be Ysabel’s father.”
“And you believed her? How could you?” Leonie repeated. “Your child needs you. She needs to go with you to see the things you love, the ocean and the lighthouse and the beach. She needs you to tell her stories of the rocks and the town. She needs to have a table in your studio where she can work on projects and be proud to be like her daddy. Haven’t you been listening to me, sha? Not having a father warped my childhood. I would have rather had that saleau in the picture than no father.” She paced behind the counter, clenching and unclenching her fists.
“First my father turns out to be something other than he seems. Now you, too. I don’t like you anymore. I don’t ever want to see you or your things again. Pack up your mirrors and haul your boxes and your child-abandoning butt out of here.”
David stood his ground. “We both had some shocks tonight. Neither of us is thinking straight. Don’t say things you’ll regret tomorrow. I’m doing what’s best for Ysabel so she can grow up without my harming her the way my parents harmed me.”
Leonie rounded on him and scowled. “Says your lying barnacle of an ex-wife. And you went along with it! You. Abandoned. Your. Child. Get out.”
“I didn’t abandon her. I made a huge sacrifice for her benefit. When you calm down you’ll see that. Maybe you’ll also see that Jake too may have sacrificed to give you a better life.”
“Stop talking. My head hurts from trying to understand your reasons. They’re not reasons. They’re justifications for not seeing your daughter. Please leave.”
“Leonie, please.”
She turned her back on him and stared at the place on the wall where the photo had been hidden. She blinked furiously to hold back her tears, but a few escaped and rolled hotly down her cheeks. I have no reason to stay now. As soon as I can make arrangements for Puff and Slink, I’m catching a plane home.
The bell tinkled. Air whooshed into the room and chilled her back. Cart wheels clattered as they rolled over the threshold.
“I’m sorry, chère,” David said softly.
The door closed with a decisive thud.
Chapter 13
The next morning, head throbbing, Leonie stumbled to the icebox to grab an Abita Amber. But there were none.
She groaned. “No wonder my head, it hurts. I drank every beer last night. Way to be a fool, Leonie.” She looked inside the cabinets and moved around the contents of the pantry. At the back of a shelf she found a white box covered with Japanese letters. Inside was a cobalt-blue bottle of sake. She peeled off the gold seal and opened the bottle. She sniffed. It smelled fruity and burned her nose. It must have a lot of alcohol.
She held the bottle to her chest. This would take away her pain for a while, both her hangover headache and the pain of loss and betrayal, which felt like a cave had been excavated inside her chest. She smelled it again and closed it up.
She needed more alcohol like she needed another Jake or David in her life. She put the sake bottle back in the pantry. Then she wrote “closed today” on a thick sheet of calligraphy paper and taped it outside above the “closed” sign on the door.
She lugged her suitcases from the back of a storage closet, but her head pounded too much to pack. So she chose an art book from Jake’s bookshelves and sat on the bed next to the window to look at the pictures.
Two hours later, her head was better, and her mind had cleared. The dishonor of her actions the previous night made her cheeks burn. She rubbed them with her hands and then flopped onto the bed in a fetal position.
David had said things would be clearer in the morning, but he was wrong. Confusion vied with anger, which vied with guilt to control her.
How can I have been so unprofessional? I let my feelings ruin a good business deal for the shop. If anyone back home hears about this, my reputation may be ruined. Jake may be a jerk, but it’s still my duty to leave the shop in the best possible financial condition in case he comes back.
Both cats jumped on the bed, saw her lying down, and climbed on top of her, purring and kneading her flesh.
She closed her eyes and focused on the rumbles from their chests and the pinpricks of their claws. It was a good meditation, and she gave herself to it for a long time.
When she sat up, she knew what she had to do. She went back out to the shop, booted up the computer, and opened the email program.
“David,” she typed. “It is good for both the shop and you for your art to be here. I was foolish to let my anger interfere with what should have been pure business last night.
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t want to see you. If you still want to display and sell your pieces here, bring them back later and leave them by the back door. There’s a gate in the alley behind the house that leads into the yard. You’ll see the door. Ring the bell, and I’ll bring your boxes inside as soon as you leave so nothing will happen to your pieces.
“I promise, I’ll display them as well as they deserve. Your
art is still genuine, even if you are not who you pretended to be.
“Noriko Leonie Hamasaki”
She stared at the letter, then cut the second half of the last sentence and replaced it with, “even if you are not the man I believed you to be. That was my fault.”
She read it twice more and then clicked “send.”
She sighed, and the tightness in her head disappeared. It felt good to do the right thing. She could never trust David as a boyfriend now, knowing he had abandoned his daughter. But he had done many favors for her and been her only friend besides the cats. He had helped search for Jake. He had been truly and sincerely kind.
I hope he does well with his art, for true.
She packed her suitcases with a light heart.
Chapter 14
That evening, while Leonie was eating some leftovers for supper as part of cleaning out the icebox, the back doorbell buzzed.
She jumped at the noise, and her disobedient heart pounded. She looked down and said “Stop that!” to her dusty t-shirt. But her heart paid no attention, and a strong envie rose in her to see David one last time.
She slid along the wall of the kitchen to the window and peeked out without pulling back the curtain. David was nowhere in sight, and the gate was closed.
She had been too slow. She had missed him.
She pressed a hand to her abdomen. It seemed impossible for emptiness to hurt, but it did. Like the mind’s version of phantom limb pain. She hoped it went away more easily.
She opened the kitchen door. The same stack of boxes from last night sat on the stoop. Hard to believe how different I felt then. She knelt down to pick them up. The stack was tall. She better take them in in batches so she didn’t drop any.
“They’re awkward. I’ll carry them in.” David walked around the corner of the house.
Her hand flew to her mouth. David! Her spirits rose to the sky.
But nothing had changed since last night. Nothing could change. She stood to confront him. “I don’t want you here.”
“I don’t care. I made you a promise to help you find Jake, and I did. I talked to him this morning, in fact.”
“Go away!” She pointed toward the gate. “Wait. What?”
“May I come inside and tell you about it?”
Tongue-tied, she nodded.
He carried the boxes in, set them in the shop, and then went into the dining room. He sat down at the table and pulled out his cell phone and a thick manila folder with a rubber band around it.
She sat down across the table and clasped her hands together, trying not to twist them or her t-shirt. “You found Jake? How?”
“You want the long version or the short?”
“Long version. After you tell me whether he’s alive or dead.” She squeezed her hands so tightly together that her knuckles were white and bulging.
“Don’t worry. Jake’s alive.”
A whoosh of breath escaped Leonie’s throat, and her hands shook. Her relief surprised her; she still believed he had left her alone so long on purpose and still was angry about it.
“I left here last night pretty angry with myself, maybe as angry as you were. You were the last person in the world I wanted to disappoint.
“This morning, when I was calmer, I realized we had an important new clue: the existence of T-Jake. I decided to start with the obvious—the White Pages for Mississippi—and expand out to other states from there if necessary. How many people named Hamasaki could there be in a small Southern state? Or in the country for that matter?
“But I got it in one. I found a number for a Kaito Hamasaki in Mississippi.
“I didn’t call right away. What if Jake had abandoned Little Jake as well? What if Kaito H. were yet another by-blow from Jake’s wild years in the South? I might turn over an even bigger hornet’s nest.
“Finally, I punched in the number. An answering machine answered. When it dinged, I left a mangled, doofus-y message introducing myself saying I was trying to track down T-Jake Hamasaki on behalf of his sister, Noriko Leonie Hamasaki. That I was also looking for Jake Hamasaki of Moonlight Cove, who’s been missing.
“Someone picked up the phone, and a deep voice interrupted me. Leonie, you’re going to like your brother. At least I did.
“He said, in a deep, growly voice with a Southern accent, not like yours but more like what you hear on TV, ‘This is T-Jake Hamasaki, and if you’re from the collection agency, I am going to track you down and stuff my paid receipts down your lying throat.’”
Leonie leaned forward. “What did you do?”
“I’ve had plenty of rude customers. At least T-Jake answered. I said, ‘Nice to meet you, T-Jake. I’m trying to arrange a family get-together between you and your sister Leonie.’”
Leonie drew back. “I’m not ready to meet him yet. I only learned he existed last night. I need to get used to the idea.”
“Then T-Jake said, ‘Aww, man, not you, too. Pop’s been camped out here for weeks, ragging on me to go meet this girl. Pop goes on and on as if she pees gold, or whatever it was that damn goose did in the fairytale. What’s your angle?’”
David took a deep breath. “I said you feel as if Jake has deserted you twice. I asked for his help in getting Jake back here.
“He wasn’t sympathetic, not at first. He said, ‘Good ol’ T-Jake, always ready to help out a friend or a friend of a friend or a friend of a friend of a friend. Sure, I have plenty of time to do you a favor even though I don’t know you from a hole in the ground. Even though Pop is sick, and I’m taking care of him after working all day.’”
“He’s sick?” Leonie looked down at the tablecloth. She had been so angry that he had left her again, and it wasn’t his fault. “I’m ashamed of myself. I never considered he might be sick. I should have called the local hospitals. Now we know he wasn’t there, but I should have called.”
“It’s not your fault, Leonie. I didn’t think of it either. Anyway, I said to T-Jake, ‘I have one question for you. Why don’t you want to meet your sister? What do you have to lose?’
“He didn’t answer for a while. Then he said quietly, ‘That’s two questions.’
“I just waited.
“Finally, T-Jake said, ‘I’m afraid she’s like Pop.’
“‘Which one?’ I asked. ‘The father he was when you were little? Or the man he is now? You’re a grown man. Haven’t you figured out how to handle him yet?’
“‘Now I almost wish you were the damn collection agent,’ he said.
“‘Pretend I am and hang up on me,’ I dared him.
“‘You’ll just call back. I hear it in your voice. ‘Get them back together’ my ass. You got something else up your sleeve.’
“So I told T-Jake that Jake and I were supposed to do an art show together, but Jake hadn’t signed the papers yet. I also told him you were a traiteuse and perhaps you could help Jake even if the doctors couldn’t.
“T-Jake heaved a big sigh. I could almost hear him throwing his hands up in the air. Then he told me Jake was too sick to travel.”
“Mon Dieu!” Leonie leaned her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. “It’s a lot to take in. Jake so sick. Jake planning to come back here with T-Jake. He didn’t desert me after all.” She lifted her head. “I should have trusted him.”
David pulled the rubber band off his manila folder. He scooted several printouts across the table.
Leonie glanced through. David—or T-Jake?—had bought her a ticket to Mississippi for the next day.
One way.
She looked up, and he handed her a sticky note. “That’s T-Jake’s phone number. You can call him.” David tapped his cell phone. “Otherwise, he’ll pick you up at the airport when your flight gets in. I can take you to the airport here if you like. If you’re not still so angry at me.”
Leonie’s head reeled. “I should be more angry at you for railroading me into flying to Mississippi.”
“You don’t have to use the ticket. I
could fly out myself, get the art-show papers signed, and make sure T-Jake can afford a good doctor for your father.”
She sat silent. She may have been railroaded, but she had been railroaded into getting what she wanted: a family.
It was all so sudden she couldn’t think straight or make a decision.
“I’ve already talked to Mrs. Itani.” David’s voice held deep sadness. “She’ll take care of Puff and Slink until Jake comes home.”
He’s not expecting me to come back. In truth, she couldn’t tell him otherwise.
“I reckon I need to thank you for fixing everything.”
“I haven’t fixed anything. I wish I could have. Jake is still sick. T-Jake still doesn’t want to meet you. If you want to have a family, you’re going to have to use your superpowers to make one yourself.”
“I wish it were as easy as jumping over the display counter or fixing your elbow.” She straightened up, everything in her mind clicking into place like a puzzle working itself while she watched. “I’ll go. I’ll accept your offer of a drive to the airport. Thank you for being so… bossy.”
He grinned. “You encouraged me to go after what I wanted. I’m only returning the favor.” He stood up, and his smile faded. “I’m going to miss you, Noriko Leonie Hamasaki.”
Chapter 15
Leonie stepped out of the over-air-conditioned airport into what felt like a steamy oven. As always, it was a shock, one she knew would only last a few minutes. She tipped her head back and breathed deeply, letting the heavy, damp air moisten her eyes and nose. She parked her suitcases next to herself, pulled off her cardigan, and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. She looked at the scratch marks on her dry skin and stretched her arms out. She had bought several bottles of moisturizers in California, but none had worked. Now she didn’t need them.
“Ahhhhh,” she sighed.
A fellow passenger, an elderly black lady in a tailored light-pink suit, smiled at her. “Always great to come home to our climate, isn’t it, darlin’?”
