Shimura Trouble

by Sujata Massey

  “Rei, I’ll be gone by then. I still can’t help feeling anxious about him, after your poisoning. It hit me pretty bad, Rei. I’m still dreaming at night that I’ve lost you.”

  “Maybe I’ve lost you,” I said. “I saw Hugh this afternoon, and I talked to him. Does your ultimatum still stand?”

  “Of course not!” Michael exclaimed. “I regretted the words the instant I hung up. But you know how I am: I run away when I think I’m at risk.”

  “Hugh had a driver bring him to the townhouse mid-afternoon. We talked a little bit about the land deal and Braden. He told me that Sendai, his old employer in Japan, collaborated with Mitsuo Kikuchi for some real-estate purchase.”

  “Really? Does he know him?” Michael pressed the button to pull up the convertible’s whiny-sounding roof.

  “By reputation only. He said Mitsuo Kikuchi was a hard bargainer, which we already know. It’s what Hugh told me about Kikuchi’s son, Jiro, that’s creepy. Hugh says there was a rumor a few years back that Jiro assaulted a woman. That’s why he’s here, tucked away at Pineapple Plantation. Hugh tried to scare me about him, but as you know, I’m already steering a wide berth.”

  “You and your sailing metaphors,” Michael said, taking my hand. “I regret never having the chance to get you on Four Guys on the Edge.”

  “I don’t regret it,” I said. “I don’t regret anything about this visit, even having to face Hugh. He was kind enough to give me a ride into town, and we had a light bite at his hotel and said a pleasant goodbye. It’s really over, Michael. Nobody kissed or cried or screamed.”

  We walked out of the shadow of the garage and on to the street. A mix of emotions passed over Michael’s face, and finally he said, “I’ve been so stupid.”

  “I would never say that about someone I love.” The words came quickly, before I could take them back. And now, under the streetlight, I could see that Michael’s face was as flushed as mine.

  “Rei.” Michael’s voice cracked slightly, and then he kissed me, a long, sweet kiss that I’d been waiting for, all day long. After we broke apart, I waited for the words I wanted to hear him say, but he remained quiet. Still, I felt like a weight had been lifted, having finally had the courage to express what had been plaguing me for months.

  THE RESTAURANT’S ATMOSPHERE only seemed to heighten my feeling of having crossed into a new world. Michael held the door for me as I stepped into the first of a series of airy rooms with blue-green walls.

  I’d eaten so little with Hugh that I was hungry again. And, after reading the menu, I decided that if I didn’t eat seafood soon, I might develop a phobia. I ordered carefully, choosing butterfish grilled with miso. Michael shared with me a more delicate fish called moi, which floated in an intense broth made from fresh local tomatoes and the Japanese seaweed, hijiki. For dessert, we shared a pot of jasmine-flavored green tea and sparred over a single bowl of haupia lemongrass crème brûlée.

  The drive back to Waikiki was quick, since it was after eleven, and after we parked at the Hale Koa’s garage, it seemed only natural to walk for a while. As we walked along Lewers Street, the trade winds blew fiercely, whipping my silk dress.

  “Too bad I can’t drink, because that looks like the perfect place for a fancy cocktail,” I said, inclining my head toward a small hotel that looked like a white jewel box surrounded by all the high rises.

  “There’s always coffee, tea or me,” Michael said, and I smiled at him as we walked up a few steps into the Halekulani, admiring its small emerald-green courtyard lawn before finding a bar called the Lewers Lounge. It was a little dark art deco paradise, where we found a banquette in a dark corner. I decided tea wouldn’t cut it, so I ordered an alcohol-free version of the passion fruit and ginger cosmopolitan.

  “This is the best night I’ve had since I’ve been here,” I said, marveling at how everything had turned out; that I was having cocktails with Michael, cuddled in a cozy banquette, listening to romantic jazz standards.

  “I still feel terrible for what I said to you; for forcing you to chase me down, for this to happen. The more I think about it, you put yourself at risk for me—how were you going to get back to the Leeward Side, anyway?”

  “Maybe I would have taken the bus, or paid for a night’s stay at one of the cheaper hotels around the corner. My father would have understood if I stayed out—as long as I called.”

  “Would he?” Michael looked at me intently. “Would he understand if you called him at this hour and said you weren’t coming home tonight?”

  “But…” I was taken aback. “You share a room with Kurt. How could we?”

  “I was thinking about this hotel, not the Hale Koa. I’ll go out to the lobby right now and ask if they have a room, but only if you’re willing to stay the whole night—and tomorrow morning, as well.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked carefully, my heart thumping under my dress.

  “Of course I’m sure. But your response makes me wonder if I’m rushing you?”

  “No. It’s just that this seems like a very expensive hotel. I didn’t lure you in because I expected to stay overnight.”

  “But after what you said to me on Restaurant Row, don’t you want to?”

  I was glad the darkness hid the color that rose on my cheeks. “The thing I noticed was what you didn’t say to me in return.”

  “Rei.” Michael’s voice softened. “If you don’t realize that I love you too, you’re truly in the wrong line of work.”

  “What?” I paused, not believing what I’d just heard. The world just seemed to have shifted ten degrees on its axis.

  “I’ve loved you forever,” Michael went on, taking my hand again and drawing me close to him on the banquette. “But there are so many reasons why I’ve thought this is the world’s most impossible romance. There’s the matter of professionalism, but even if that wasn’t a factor, I’m just a simple American guy.”

  “It’s true that I’ve never dated an American,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try, and you aren’t simple, you’re complex! Don’t you realize how sexy spying is?”

  “I’m not James Bond; it’s clear from my lack of an English accent and my less than glamorous drink.” Michael tapped the Bud Light he’d insisted on drinking from the bottle.

  “I was trying not to notice.”

  Michael laughed. “I am insane about you, Rei. Will you reform me, the way Harue did for Keijin?”

  “No, I won’t reform you. I want you just the way you are.”

  Michael gave my hand one last squeeze, stood up, and headed out of the lounge.

  I knew what he was about to do. And in the meantime, there was a very difficult phone call that I needed to make.

  FROM PAST EXPERIENCE, I know that it’s pretty embarrassing to take a hotel room without luggage. At the Halekulani there was no need for me to give my name—Michael’s was enough—but to my chagrin, the registration actually took place in the hotel room. This meant that a young Asian woman in a trim blue suit escorted us upstairs and did the formalities at a small desk with Michael, while I stared out the window of our deluxe room at a lit-up round pool seventeen floors below us. Only when the desk clerk had left did I turn back to examine the soft cream and tan room, with a watercolor by a Japanese artist above the queen-sized bed.

  “Small but perfect,” Michael said, walking into the bathroom. “This reminds me of a really good hotel in Japan.”

  “Well, this place is Japanese-owned,” I pointed out. “It’s interesting how much of Hawaii is owned by Japanese, but it doesn’t really seem to bother people. So different from when we were young—remember the outcry when Sony bought the Rockefeller Center?”

  “Ever since I’ve become Japanese-owned, I’ve been happier.” Michael turned and wrapped me in his arms.

  “That’s a terrible joke.” I kissed him. “And I don’t own you.”

  “Oh, you’ve owned me ever since I conducted your background check.” Michael was slipping my dress str
aps off my shoulders, trying to figure out how to get it off. I started thinking about what was underneath, whether my underwear was going to be too intense—then I remembered something even more important.

  “Michael, I don’t have anything with me. You know.”

  “I have a three-pack,” he said, pulling a foil package from his pocket. “But I must warn you, it’s been a very long time. And you’re so gorgeous, I’m just…afraid.”

  Michael Hendricks, afraid? I pulled him down on the bed and said, “Don’t worry so much. It’s been a while for me, too.”

  This was right, I thought as we were finally naked, and our fingers blazed their first trails across each other’s bodies. I was thrilled by the idea of playing teacher to someone who’d forgotten how to make love. But Michael didn’t need to offer a disclaimer. He’d been married for almost a decade, and in that time he seemed to have learned many ways to please a woman.

  We rolled together, the once-pristine bed now an utter shambles. Michael moved into me, and my legs wrapped around his waist. As we kissed, I tasted the exotic dessert we’d shared at dinner overlaid with our past: the gray streets we’d jogged, the long mornings reading dull reports, the text messages. I breathed deeply, feeling my body confidently follow where my mind was going, and then I was no longer able to postpone the inevitable.

  “Yes,” I murmured, moving against him hard. I felt myself rising as high as Diamond Head outside the window—hidden by darkness now, but still there.

  “Marry me,” Michael said, as everything erupted.

  “Yes,” I sighed, my lips against his throat. This was so different than being with Hugh, Takeo, or anyone else in my past; because of the deep connection between us. There was no flirting or guile: nothing but love. “Yes.”

  WHEN I WOKE up, Michael was curled around my back, kissing my spine.

  “What time is it?” I murmured, reaching behind me to stroke him.

  “Time to rise and shine.” He folded himself around me, and I opened my eyes to the bright sky and ocean outside the bedroom window. We’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night. And there was something else troubling me that I couldn’t remember. The problem lay in the back of my mind, just as Michael lay against my back now, warming me in the chilly, air-conditioned room.

  I grabbed the bathroom first, cleaning my teeth vigorously with the brush and toothpaste that I’d kept in my purse as a precaution ever since my illness began. Then I stepped into the shower, and let the warm water rain down on me. Slowly, I began to relax. I lathered up my calves with shaving cream and was just starting in on them when Michael slid into the room.

  “Share a toothbrush with me?” he held up my brush.

  “I’ve shared everything else, so you might as well.” I waved him toward the sink.

  “Absolutely not.” Michael was stark naked, but looked utterly comfortable as he lounged against the wall, brushing his teeth.

  “I thought I should be prepared,” I said, as I turned from him and bent over my left calf again. “In case we have a half-hour for the pool this morning. I could look for a swimsuit in the gift shops downstairs.”

  “Shopping is not a priority right now.”

  When I looked again, I saw this was true. I smiled and said, “Good morning to both of you.”

  Michael didn’t answer, just opened the shower door, and gently lifted me against him. Before I could react, he’d carried me back to the bed, suds and all.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” Michael said as he began kissing his way down my body. “I should get dressed, take you down to breakfast and then to your home, where I’ll declare my intentions to your father.”

  “Mmm,” I said, savoring his tongue, until the words he’d spoken with it had connected with my brain. I sat straight up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Last night, I asked you to marry me. Surely you haven’t blacked out?”

  “I remember you interrupting me, and my not being able to answer.”

  “What? You said yes. Several times, in fact…”

  “If I said yes, it’s because I was in the throes of passion. It’s not actually fair to ask someone a thing like that, when she’s halfway out of her mind.”

  “Come on, Rei. Your guard was down, and you said yes to marrying me.”

  “Michael, have you forgotten our original intention?” I stared at him. “We would try dating. Last night was our first official date, and I’d say it went extremely well. We could have another date, tonight.”

  “But I’ve decided I don’t want to date you.” Michael had risen from the bed and was pulling on a bathrobe. “If we keep dating, you’ll walk away. I’m afraid that’s your modus operandi. Look at what happened with Hugh and Takeo.”

  “That’s not true. It was only after Hugh and I became engaged that things went to hell, and Takeo never asked.”

  “But you’d lived with him, just as you’d lived with Hugh. You don’t do well with live-in boyfriends. I refuse to join the chain.”

  Was Michael laughing at me? Rather huffily, I answered, ‘I’m not asking you to live with me.”

  “Of course you aren’t. Living together is playing, and so is dating, at our ages. Come on, Rei. Agree to the deal and when I return to work, I’ll immediately ask Len about my getting shifted off the Japan desk.”

  “But you live and breathe for that job. You can’t leave it.” I would rather remind him of work than tell him that I was overcome by his proposal, but fearful of what it might bring. Michael had lost his first wife in an airplane bombing, and I knew how long his mourning had lasted. I was afraid of him dying in his work for the government, leaving me behind.

  “You’re wrong about that, Rei. I live and breathe for you. Even if you just want me for one thing.” And with that, Michael went out to the balcony and stared intently at the sea—so intently that I got the message, got dressed, and went downstairs, where I did happen to go to the gift shop, and bought an overpriced pair of yoga pants and a Hawaii-themed T-shirt, because I couldn’t bear to go home in the clothes I’d worn the night before.

  I was relieved that he joined me for breakfast. We didn’t share many words, but we did share a basket of warm popovers and massive amounts of tropical fruit. There was a hole in the popover the waiter served me, and as I bit into it metal clinked against my teeth. I extracted a square-cut diamond solitaire ring.

  “Sorry. I arranged for this to happen yesterday evening, when I booked the room. But I can probably take the ring back.” He sounded glum.

  “Is it the ring from the Exchange?” I asked as the waiter who’d served us hovered on the periphery, beaming.

  “I returned there when you were sick and swapped it for a real one.”

  I held the diamond ring in my palm and looked at it, thinking of the beautiful vintage emerald I’d flung back at Hugh, and the ring that had never come from Takeo. Was I about to throw away the best thing I ever had, just because I was afraid of loss?

  “Michael, I feel all choked up. I want to cry.” I laid the ring on the table, still studying it. I imagined all the happiness the ring could bring me, if I were brave enough to take it.

  “Please don’t. We’ve already attracted enough attention.”

  “Marriage is a lifetime, Michael. Won’t you give me time to think about this?”

  “Of course I will. But I’m telling you now, when I drop you back at the resort today, I’m going to investigate whether it’s possible to book one of the wedding chapels. Half your relatives are here already, and it won’t be hard to get mine to turn out on short notice. They’ll be ecstatic.”

  “You’re leaving in one day, Michael.” As I spoke, I remembered that I’d almost gotten married in Hawaii once, to Hugh. Perhaps this meant that I was actually fated to marry here, just like my ancestor Harue.

  “Yes, and it’s unfortunate. So we won’t get married today or tomorrow, but I think within ten to fourteen days is reasonable. I can get things done quickly.”

 
“Not everything quickly,” I reminded him, and was rewarded with a look so fond and knowing that I threw caution to the wind. “Michael, we still have our room until noon, and I don’t have to be home until around two.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Rei,” Michael said. “This morning, I will bow to your wishes. But the next time will have to be within this hotel’s wedding suite. Do you read me?”

  “Roger that.”

  WE MADE THE most of every last moment to love each other, then drove back to the Leeward Side, holding hands most of the way. When I arrived home, my father greeted us cordially, and did not say a word about the missing night. I was grateful for Japanese discretion—the art of ignoring the obvious, and for letting water wash everything away.

  I swung into dutiful-daughter mode, preparing a luncheon salad of local cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce. As I started chopping, my father invited Michael to stay to eat with us, but he begged off because of a lunch appointment at Pearl Harbor. It was probably just as well because right after he left, my father dropped the information that Uncle Hiroshi and Tom would meet Hugh for a round of golf at Turtle Bay on the North Shore.

  “Otoosan, I guess you’re the only one who’ll be able to come with me to see Harue’s cottage,” I said ruefully. “That is, if we can still go. Won’t Hiroshi and Tom need the minivan?”

  “We can drop them off, and then use the car ourselves. And thank you for including me, Rei. After all the research we’ve done, I’d very much like to see the house.”

  As we washed dishes, I relayed what Josiah Pierce had told me about Harue’s brave and painful family history, and how he’d found confirmation of the sale of the house—a sale that could never have been legally made because of the military maps that included the house.

  “When are you going to tell Yoshitsune?” my father asked at the end.

  “I thought I’d wait until I had the written documents,” I said. “Then, Yoshitsune will have as much of the story as exists and can draw his own conclusions. This afternoon I just hope the house visit will allow him a bit of closure.”