Under the Silk Hibiscus
Page 23
I listened carefully and purposefully to hear the way her voice sounded when she spoke to him. I had listened all afternoon. But it seemed that whatever those two had between them before was not there now. For me, this brought gratifying comfort.
Lucy lifted the clean plates Ken had stacked on the counter and placed them in the cupboard. “My friend Mary wants to sing at our wedding, and Emi wants to play. What do you think?”
“Emi’s good,” said Ken. “She should play. Not sure how Mary sounds. But I bet that Emi could do a swell job. She—” He stopped in midsentence. “Nathan, what do you think?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever asked me what I think.”
The three of us laughed. And as we laughed, I had this sense that I bet we could all get along together. God’s forgiveness was suddenly larger than any rift that had once been there. God’s forgiveness never seemed to end either; it was endless, fresh and life-giving. There was enough of it to bask in for everyone I needed to forgive and for everyone who needed to forgive me.
When the sink had drained, and all the water had been wiped from the counters, we entered the living room. Ken spotted his photo on the mantle. “Where did you get that?” He seemed happy and also amused that we would have a picture from a magazine—his picture.
“Lucy and I went to the Hashimotos, and they gave it to us,” I said.
“Nathan was very concerned about you,” Lucy added. I knew she was trying to put me in a good light in front of my brother, and I loved her for it.
“We should get a picture of all of us. Together,” he said.
“Oh, not right now,” Aunt Kazuko protested. “My hair is a mess. Wait till after Tuesday when I go to the beauty salon. Or much better, wait till the wedding when we will all look our best.”
I wanted to show Ken the shop and tell him about the watch and how Mekley had told me the whole story and how Lucy had confessed to it. I wanted to tell him that I had Papa’s permission to sell the watch at the pawn shop, and that had been a great decision, although a difficult one to make. I had given Mama my word that I would keep it safe; I had failed, but never mind that. I wanted to say that a family heirloom is only as valuable as you make it out to be, and just because it’s no longer in the family anymore, doesn’t mean it’s really gone. The story of the gold pocket watch would still be part of the Mori family heritage. Future generations would just have to rely on their imaginations to know what the watch looked and felt like. I wanted to share those things and more with my brother.
But as the music from Emi’s concert filled the room, and the warm June breezes blew into our house through the opened windows, ruffling the cotton curtains and bringing in the scent of freshly mowed grass and summer roses, none of that seemed important to me right then. The past seemed long ago and far away, like a distant cousin. And I wanted to keep it that way.
Ken was here after having been gone from us for nearly five years. We were all together again. We were family. Papa was even smiling like he used to, like he meant it, like he couldn’t stop.
I envisioned Mama smiling, too. Since they say Heaven is somewhere above us, I pictured her smiling down. Some say Heaven’s nearer to us than we think.
“You do know that you are all my favorites, don’t you?” I heard her words as though she was right with us in the living room. It was as though if I reached out, I could touch her hand.
Yes, almost.
The End
RECIPE FOR AUNT KAZUKO’S OATMEAL RAISIN COOKIES (1946)
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ cup shortening
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 ½ cups rolled oats
2/3 cup buttermilk
½ cup chopped nuts
1 cup seedless raisins
Cream shortening, blend in sugar and add egg. Beat until smooth and light. Sift flour with salt, soda and cinnamon. Stir half the flour in with egg mixture; add milk, the rest of flour, and then oats, nuts and raisins. Stir till well mixed. Drop from a teaspoon onto a buttered baking sheet and bake at 400 degrees F. for 10 minutes or until nicely browned. Yields about 36 cookies.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alice J. Wisler was born and raised in Japan as a missionary kid. She is the author of Getting Out of Bed in the Morning, and five novels—Rain Song and How Sweet It Is were Christy finalists. Ever since the cancer death of her four-year-old son Daniel in 1997, she has found solace in writing from heartache and teaches Writing the Heartache workshops across the country at conferences and seminars. She lives in Durham, NC with her husband and children where they have a wood carving business, Carved By Heart. Visit her website at http://www.alicewisler.com.