“I should have married her months ago,” Peter said sadly as he watched her disappear into the stall like a spirit.
“You will one day,” Tak said quietly, he was sure of it now, and he no longer objected. They had a right to their happiness, if this was what they wanted. He felt he had no right to keep them from it. He'd been watching them. In essence, they already were married, in soul and spirit. The rest would come later. “Just take care of yourself when you go overseas. You think they'll send you to Japan?”
“They might,” Peter said. “I have to report to Fort Ord, but I just got the feeling they'd send me to Europe. There's plenty to do there. And I'd just as soon not be fighting the Japanese. I don't want to have a lot of apologizing to do to her father.”
Takeo smiled as he said it. “You'd like him, he's a great guy. He's a real character, he's always been way ahead of himself, with his ideas and his teaching. I'm surprised he never came to the States. I guess he couldn't afford it. His wife looked like a sweet girl too, very traditional. She's a lot like Hiroko.” But Hiroko had changed a lot in the past few months, they had all noticed it. She had gotten a lot braver, and less bound by tradition. The incident at St. Andrew's had brought her out of herself a lot, she had seemed stronger and more independent after that, and her relationship with Peter had matured her. “I'm sure you'll meet them all one day,” Takeo said thoughtfully. “If they survive the war
I hope they do. Her brother's about Ken's age. I think he's a year older.” Tak was worried about Ken too. He was so angry these days, so disillusioned about his country. He had fallen in with a bunch of kids who were very angry. They felt their country had betrayed them and putting them in camps was a violation of the Constitution.
“Maybe he'll be a lawyer,” Peter said encouragingly, and Tak smiled.
“I hope so.”
At midnight, Peter stood up and stretched. It was uncomfortable sitting on the wooden boxes. And he walked softly to the stall to say good-bye to Hiroko, but when he knocked, and then glanced in, he saw that she was sound asleep on one of their makeshift mattresses, covered by a blanket. She looked so peaceful lying there, he stood for a long moment watching her, and then backed quietly away and returned to Takeo.
“I'll come back tomorrow after class,” he told Tak when he left. And he did, every day, and he spent the entire day and evening with them on the weekends. He had no other life now, no place else he wanted to be. And he even brought a bunch of papers past the guards, and Tak helped him correct them. It was the only distraction Tak had had since he'd been there, and he was grateful for it. And having Tak do the work for him gave Peter more free time to spend with Hiroko.
Reiko was working at the infirmary every day by then. They'd been in the camp for two weeks, and several thousand more evacuees had arrived. There were more than eight thousand people in the camp, and it was harder and harder to find a moment of solitude, a place to walk that dozens of others hadn't gotten to first, or a place to sit without having to listen to ten or twelve other conversations.
The only peace Hiroko and Peter got was when they walked far out into the fields, in the high grass, and no one else seemed to care or notice. They walked out there every day, it gave her exercise, but more than that it gave her peace, and a quiet moment with Peter. And when they had walked for a while, they sat in the tall grass, near the fence, and disappeared completely. They sat like children, hiding there, giggling and laughing and talking, like forgotten people. It was almost like a game for them, and Peter was surprised the guards didn't keep a better watch, and no one had noticed, but he was pleased they hadn't. They didn't do anything they shouldn't have, but it was wonderful not being observed, or surrounded by thousands of strangers.
He lay on his side, talking to her for hours sometimes, as they listened to crickets nearby, and wild-flowers grew around them. For a short time, looking at the sky, they could pretend that they were free, and life was as it might have been, if things were different.
“What do you dream of, Peter-san?” she asked him one day as they lay side by side, watching the clouds drift by on a Sunday. She had been there exactly two weeks that day, and it was the middle of May, and the weather was warm. The sty was the color of Wedgwood.
“You,” he said easily. “And you, what do you dream about, my love, other than me, of course?” he teased her, and she laughed.
“Kyoto sometimes …the places I went as a child. I want to take you to all those places one day.” And then he asked her something he never had before.
“Could you be happy living here, in this country, I mean?” Maybe after what she was going through, she couldn't. But she nodded thoughtfully. She had thought about it before. She wanted to see her parents again, but she wanted to be with him, wherever he was.
“I could,” she said cautiously, “if they allow me to. It will be difficult living here after this war,” she said, thinking of St. Andrew's and the girls there.
“We could go east. I had an offer to teach at Harvard last year. But I didn't want to leave Tak.” Then he smiled as he looked down at her again, lying on her side in the grass next to him like a little butterfly, resting. “I'm glad I didn't.”
“Perhaps it was meant to be, Peter,” she said seriously. “Perhaps we are destined to be together.” It sounded silly said out loud, but she believed that. And as she said it, he leaned over and kissed her. He touched her face gently with his hands, and then her neck, and slowly he did something he had never dared do before and knew he shouldn't. But no one could see them, and she lay so close to him, he couldn't bear it. They had so little now, so little hope, so little time, so little future, it made him want to grab what they had and never let it get away from him, not for a single moment. He slowly unbuttoned the dress she wore. It was a lavender silk with tiny buttons all the way down, and it reminded him of one of her kimonos. He meant to unbutton it only a short way down, but he just kept unbuttoning, as he kissed her, and she moved closer to him, and suddenly he realized he had undressed her. She had on a peach-colored satin slip, and it was silky beneath his fingers, and like the dress it slid off easily in the warm sunshine, and suddenly she lay there, exposed to him in all her exquisiteness, and he realized with astonishment that she hadn't stopped him. She didn't even think about it, as he lay next to her and kissed her and pulled her still closer to him, and then he felt her unbuttoning his shirt with her tiny, nimble fingers, and he felt them on his flesh, and groaned as he kissed her and pressed her hard against him. He knew he should stop, he wanted to, he promised himself he would, but somehow he couldn't, and she did nothing to push him away. She wanted him there, next to her. She wanted to be his now. She was his in every way, her heart, her soul, and she was giving him the rest of her as they lay beneath the summer sky. It was a perfect moment in time, and it was theirs, and neither of them could push it away as he freed her long black hair, and moved ever closer to her, until he was on top of her, and she made no sound at all as he entered her, and felt his soul soar through the sky with hers. They seemed to hang in space for hours, as he devoured her with his lips, his hands, his body, and she gave as much back to him. It seemed a lifetime before they were spent, and he lay silently holding her, wondering if they were mad or the only sane people left on earth. The only thing he knew for sure was how very much he loved her.
“I love you so much,” he whispered, as he heard a bird sing somewhere, and she smiled up at him. There was no little girl there now. She was entirely a woman. “Oh, darling,” he said, and held her like a child in his arms, terrified that she'd be sorry. He looked down at her then, and there was no reproach in her eyes, only pleasure.
“I am yours now,” she said softly. It didn't even occur to him what would happen if she got pregnant. But there was nothing they could do about it, he had no protection with him. He had known she was a virgin, and he had never thought for a moment that he would make love to her.
“Are you angry with me?” he asked, worried about what she wo
uld feel later. He was terrified, he didn't want to do anything to hurt or lose her. “I'm so sorry.” But he was only sorry if she was. In his heart, he wasn't.
“No, my love.” She smiled peacefully at him, and leaned over to kiss him. “I am very happy. There was no other way,” she said simply. “But in our hearts, I know we are married.”
He wanted to do more than that for her, especially since he was going away, but he had no idea how to do it. But as they lay there talking afterward, and he slowly buttoned her dress again, he had a thought and shared it with her. He wanted her to make inquiries. Surely, there was someone there who could do it.
“It will not be accepted by them,” she said knowingly of the authorities who controlled her life now.
“It will be accepted by us,” he said solemnly. “That's all that matters.” He told her to see what she could find out, and he helped her to her feet after kissing her again. She was worried that their indiscretion would show, but in spite of the fact that it had been the first time for her, she looked surprisingly respectable as they walked slowly back through the tall grass. They stopped several times and kissed again, and Peter knew that never in his life had he ever been so happy.
Takeo was waiting for them when they got back, and he had finished all of Peter's papers. He looked pleased, and he wanted to talk to him. Peter sat down, and Hiroko disappeared for a while, and when she returned she looked fresh and well combed and her face was shining. Their eyes met briefly over Tak's head and as they did, they each felt an explosion of excitement.
Peter came back to her every day, and they wandered through the tall grass, and disappeared into the mysteries of each other's arms. They could not stay away from each other now, could not get enough of the love they shared, could not in a thousand years be sated. But Hiroko had a plan. And by the following week, she had found what she wanted. She had heard about him in the infirmary, coincidentally from Reiko. And the moment she could, she went to see him.
He told her it would not mean anything, except in the eyes of God, not man. But she told him that that was what they wanted. The rest would have to come later. And he showed no surprise when she brought Peter to him the next afternoon. He didn't seem at all surprised that Peter was Caucasian. And the old Buddhist priest performed the ceremony and married them, holding his prayer beads in one hand, and intoning the same words that had once joined her parents twenty years before, and Takeo and Reiko. They were familiar words to her, and it was brief. He pronounced them man and wife in the eyes of God and man. And when it was over, he bowed low, and wished them many children.
Hiroko bowed low to him, and thanked him, and Peter did as well, and was dismayed to realize that they could not give him anything. Money or any gift at all would only have gotten him into trouble. Peter asked Hiroko to explain that to him in Japanese, since he spoke no English at all, and she did, but he said he understood, and wanted nothing more than their blessing.
They bowed low to him and assured him of it, and as he blessed them yet again, Peter surprised her by bringing a thin gold band out of his pocket. It was so narrow you could barely see it, and it slipped perfectly on her hand, and was the exact size of her finger.
‘We'll have that made official one day,” he said, deeply moved by what had just passed between them.
“It already is,” she said, bowing low to him, and saying the words in Japanese that assured him she would honor him forever.
They thanked the old priest, and asked him to keep their secret for them, and with a smile, he promised, and a moment later they left him. Peter was beaming from ear to ear, and Hiroko stood close to him, feeling like a part of him. It seemed incredible to both of them that the whole camp couldn't see it.
“Wait a minute,” he said as they walked quickly past a row of horse stalls. “I forgot something.”
“What?” She looked suddenly worried, and without another word, he took her in his arms and kissed her, in plain sight of everyone, and she could hear the children laughing and giggling.
“I had to kiss the bride to make it official,” he explained, and she laughed at him, and they walked on. Even old people were smiling at them. They were young and in love, and foolish. And even if he wasn't Japanese, they could see that he was very handsome, and they looked very happy together.
But in spite of the lightheartedness, it was a serious moment for both of them, and they talked about it at length that night, what it meant, and how serious they were about their future. As far as they both were concerned, they were married. She fingered the ring a number of times, and she had slid the silver one next to it, and wondered if anyone would notice. But her wedding band was so narrow it hid easily behind the other.
They continued to go for long walks each day, and to do what came so easily there, and no one appeared to suspect what they were doing, not even her cousins. But the only thing that worried Peter considerably was the fear that she would get pregnant. But in spite of his fears, they always seemed to get carried away, and most of the time passion got the best of them, despite his good intentions.
“We should be more careful,” he said, reproaching himself one day. She was so beautiful, so sensuous, he lost his head each time he was with her.
“I don't care,” she said, throwing caution to the wind as she lay with him, and then she lowered her eyes and looked shy with him for the first time in a long time, and whispered the words, ”I want your baby.”
“But not here, sweetheart,” he chided her. “Later.” But all his good intentions were usually rapridly forgotten, they went nowhere. He lay in the grass with her, and lost sight of everything except his insatiable desire for her, his endless love, and the wonders of her body. “I'm worse than a kid,” he laughed as they strolled back to her stall again. But it was the only moment of the day when they were both transported beyond reality, beyond the fears and terrible rumors of what was coming. He was leaving in three weeks and there was still constant talk about where they would all be sent, who would go where, and if they would be safe there.
And a week after their little ceremony, when Peter came to the camp, he was stopped at the gate, and asked to stop at the administration building. He was sure that the old priest had told the guards something. He tried to appear calm as he went inside, and asked if there was a problem. They wanted to know why he came to visit so often, who he had dealings with and why. They wanted to know his political views, and asked to see identification.
Peter showed them everything he had, and his identification from the university, which attested to the fact that he was a full professor. He explained that Takeo Tanaka had worked with him, first as his boss and then as his assistant. And he explained also that he would be leaving for the army soon, and it was important that together they complete the program. He said he needed Tak's help to complete everything to the university's satisfaction before he went into the army in two weeks. But no matter how good his story was, they kept him there for three hours, explaining, describing the program to them. They were impressed by Stanford, of course, but they were particularly interested in the fact that he taught political science. And in the end, the only thing that saved him, he thought, was the fact that in two weeks he was leaving for the army. Whatever threat, or annoyance, he posed, it wouldn't be there for much longer.
And before he left the administration building that afternoon, he tried to find out where and when Hiroko and her cousins were being moved. The man he'd spoken to said he had no idea, that a dozen camps were being set up throughout the western states, but that for the moment they weren't ready. The evacuees would be there for a while yet. But unfortunately, Peter wouldn't.
“Don't feel so bad for them,” the lieutenant said to him confidentially. “They're just a bunch of Japs. Your guy may be a smart one, but believe me, most of them aren't. Half of them can't even speak English.”
Peter nodded, pretending to be sympathetic to him, but said that he'd heard most of them were Americans.
“If yo
u can call them that. They've got all this garbage about issei, nisei, who's born where. The fact is they're Japs, and you can't trust ‘em to be loyal to this country. Watch out for them,” he warned, “your guy too. I guess you'll be glad to join the army.” He smiled, unaware of how wrong he was. But Peter was immensely relieved when he was allowed to leave and join the Tanakas and Hiroko, who had worried about him all afternoon. But when he told them all about it, he could see from Hiroko's eyes that she'd been frightened, and he shook his head imperceptibly at her to reassure her. The guards knew nothing about them. That night, when he slipped away with her, the grass was damp and the ground cold, but they had never felt as much passion for each other. Each of them had been terrified they'd lose the other. For a moment, sitting there that afternoon, he'd thought they would tell him he could no longer visit. He had never been so grateful in his life as when he left the guard room.
And as she lay breathless in his arms, devouring him, he knew that she had felt the same terror.
“How am I ever going to leave you?” he asked unhappily. He could hardly stand to be away from her for a night now. It was going to be nightmarish when he left, and the army had just changed his orders. He was only stopping briefly at Ford Ord, and then going on to Fort Dix, New Jersey, for training. He'd been right, he was going to Europe, and he wouldn't be back in California before he left. All they had were the next two weeks together, and after that a lifetime of prayers until it was over.
She couldn't leave him that night, nor he her, they had been too terrified that afternoon, and this time when they finally returned to the stall, they looked drained and worried as Takeo watched them. He knew how hard it was going to be for Peter to leave her, and it was already starting to take its toll. But there was nothing anyone could do to help them. And they hugged again, and then silently Tak turned and went to bed, leaving Peter and Hiroko their last few moments together.
Silent Honor Page 19
