A child played in the knee-high grass of the Italian field, chasing a white butterfly. His face was Japanese like Chidori’s, but his hair was blond like mine. The butterfly fluttered towards the airplane wreckage and the boy followed with his little hands raised in the air, trying to catch it. He wore a blue sweater and matching blue shoes. I yelled to warn him to stay away from the flames. He didn’t hear me, though. I wanted to get up to save him, but my body couldn’t move. I called to him one more time from where I lay before he disappeared into the wall of fire.
When I looked down at my body to determine why it wouldn’t function, my torso wasn’t actually there. Black, crusty flakes of ash were scattered where my limbs should have been. I cried out for help and a woman emerged from the flames. Her long black hair blew like raven feathers in the breeze. She was dressed all in white. Pure white. There wasn’t even a smudge of soot on her. She held the boy on her hip and the butterfly rested on his finger. She smiled with sympathy, set the boy down on the grass, and whispered something into his ear. He looked over at me and said, ‘Papa.’
Holding the boy’s hand, Chidori walked towards me – only she wasn’t really walking. More like floating.
‘Am I in Heaven?’ My voice was raspy and barely worked.
Chidori knelt next to me, then leaned forward to kiss my forehead.
A four-and-a-half-foot tall, grey-haired, leather-skinned Italian soldier with dirty fingernails rammed the end of his Gewehr rifle against my forehead on the same spot Chidori had kissed. I clenched my eyes shut, swallowed back the whimper that wanted to escape, and waited for the click of the trigger.
A second rifle barrel poked my ribs, prodding me to open my eyes. Rather than black, crusty flakes, I had arms. To my relief, I had legs too. They were burned, but at least I wasn’t a pile of soot like in the dream. I attempted to sit up and the old soldier yelled at me in Italian. I didn’t understand, so I raised my arms in surrender.
The younger soldier, whose narrow face and large eyes were proportioned like a grasshopper’s, searched through what was left of my uniform, looking for my revolver. He pulled it out of my leg pocket, then yelped from the scalding metal and dropped it on the ground.
They nudged me to kneel and link my hands behind my head. Then they discussed my torn-up, bloody, and charred bare feet. The old soldier made impatient hand gestures to get me to stand. I tried, but resting weight on my feet was more agonizing than pouring vinegar on an open wound. I involuntarily moaned from the excruciating pain and fell to the ground. One of them pushed the end of his gun into my back to make me try again. I got up, but only took half a step before I stumbled to my knees. After a rest to wheeze air into my lungs, I hoisted myself up enough to crawl and hoped that wherever they planned to take me to surrender me to the Nazis was not far.
They didn’t follow. They both lit cigarettes and watched me inch slowly. I travelled as far as I could, collapsed, and rolled over to stare up at the sky. High clouds, pleasant spring temperatures – a perfect day to die.
I imagined looking up at the same sky in Canada, half a world away. Maybe a bald eagle soared above, or a tree frog sang to its mate. Surrounded by the peacefulness of the island, nobody back home would have any idea I was about to be shot in the Italian countryside by fascists. I didn’t want to die, and I especially dreaded facing God’s ruling on people like me who took the lives of others in a war. A lot of my squadron mates celebrated every enemy they bagged, foaming at the bit to get back out and kill more. I neither celebrated nor lamented. The truth was, deep down, we all knew the other side was just a bunch of young fellows exactly like us who believed we were the evil ones. Who was to say which side was right? The only thing I knew for certain was there were a lot of us who were going to need to be granted mercy on our souls on judgement day.
Trying to accept my fate with grace, I searched the sky, looking for Heaven. All I saw were more Luftwaffe fighters, flying over in formation.
23 August 1941
Dear Diary,
Hayden gave me quite a startling and melancholy reminder that today’s fall fair might be the last for many years if the war in Europe continues. I wonder if changing traditions is what Obaasan meant about parting. It would be such a shame if the fair and other lovely pastimes were to be cancelled, but there is no denying it is a possibility as we are all asked to tighten our use of nonessentials. Circumstances and attitudes have certainly changed ever since Japan signed on to join forces with Germany and Italy to fight against Great Britain and Canada. Thankfully, hostility is not yet noticeable here on Mayne Island, but I have read in the newspaper that in Vancouver and Victoria the sentiment towards Japanese Canadians has gotten increasingly prejudiced. I pray the war doesn’t ruin everything festive. Or innocent. Or beautiful. But in the regrettable event that it does, I have been making an effort to observe all of the encounters occurring around me.
Speaking of one such observation: I witnessed Hayden in his undershirt this morning. Good golly that was a lovely encounter, but for the sake of propriety this is all I should write about it. Some encounters have been not so lovely, like whatever caused Hayden to get in a shoving match with Rory earlier. I have my suspicions about what caused it, but it’s probably best not to speculate. I really wish he wouldn’t fight, especially if it has anything to do with me.
Chi
Chapter 4
After the altercation with the Bauer boys, I vented my frustration by hauling crates of jarred plums and apricots. Ma was head of the craft fair committee and judge for the pie-baking contest, so after I finished helping her army of volunteers set up the tables, she let my sister and me both taste a few pie samples. Mrs Campbell’s blueberry was by far the tastiest because she made it tart the way I liked it. But there was a tangy lemon flan that was going to give her a run for her money.
Rosalyn’s mandated-by-our-mother volunteer-job had been to display the entries for the quilting category on rods suspended with wire from the rafters, but she was also entered as a contestant in the art category. One of her landscape oil paintings was on display on an easel near the stage, and she appeared nervous as I wandered around the hall to view her competition – two other oil paintings, several watercolours, an intricate wood carving of a whale, a blown-glass vase, and something that could only be described literally – a broken doll dipped in ceramic and then adorned in barnacles and gold enamelled butterflies. Oddly interesting in a circus-sideshow type of way.
‘What do you think?’ Rose asked me as she tugged at her lip and leaned in close to study one of the other oil paintings. ‘I don’t think my chances are good. This woman’s brush strokes are more skilful than mine.’
I squinted, not convinced. ‘Does it really matter what her brush stroke is like if her apples resemble pumpkins and her grapes are the size of watermelons?’
Rose chuckled and swatted my arm. ‘Shh. Don’t be cruel. Someone might hear you and I’ll be disqualified for poor sportsmanship.’
‘The prize for the winner is one of Ma’s zucchini loaves. You can just eat one when you get home.’
Rose rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at me like when we were little kids. ‘It’s for bragging rights, not the prizes.’
‘Well, you definitely have the best oil painting, but you’re going to come second to that ghoulish doll thingamajig.’
‘It is a curiously striking aberration, isn’t it?’ She laughed, then wrinkled her nose. ‘Second place wins a jar of Mrs Auld’s pickled beets.’
‘Mmm. My favourite. Save me some.’ I poked her arm playfully, stole another sample from Ma’s pie-judging table, and then headed back out to the fairgrounds.
Chidori was seated on a stool at their booth, writing in one of her journals, but she put it down to assist two women who approached the counter to purchase carrots. My best mate Joey lounged on the hill beside the Agricultural Hall with his steady gal, Donna Mae. I wandered over and sat down on the prickly dry grass next to them to listen to the church musi
cians struggle to play a jitterbug song for the crowd.
‘Hi Hayden,’ Donna Mae said. ‘The gang’s all meeting down at the point for a bonfire tonight. Do you want to tag along with us?’
‘I’ll meet you down there.’
‘Ooh.’ She clutched the crook of my arm and shook it excitedly. ‘Do you have a date?’
Not sure if I could swing it, I shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Chidori?’
A smile crept across my face as I said, ‘I hope so.’
‘That’s swell. It’s about time the two of you finally took the plunge. You’re perfect for each other.’ Donna Mae sipped ginger-beer soda from a bottle and snapped her fingers along with the beat of the song. Her reddish-brown curls bounced on her shoulders as she bobbed her head from side to side.
Joey glanced over at me with concern and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. ‘If Chidori agrees to be your date, maybe you two should catch a ride with us. In case there’s any trouble with the Bauers.’
‘Thanks, but they don’t concern me. And Chidori won’t feel comfortable when you two spend the entire night carrying on in the back seat.’
‘We won’t,’ Donna Mae promised. ‘We’ll be on our best behaviour, won’t we, Joseph?’
He raised his eyebrows in a comical way. ‘Maybe you should drive yourselves.’
Donna Mae slapped his thigh. ‘Don’t listen to him. We won’t embarrass you in front of Chidori. I don’t want her to think I’m fast or something.’
‘She’s known you her entire life.’ Joey poked Donna Mae’s ribs to tease her. ‘She’s already heard that you’re fast.’
Donna Mae shot up, brushed the dust from the seat of her wide-leg trousers, and stormed off in a huff.
‘Donna! Don’t be sore. I was only kidding,’ Joey called after her. He laughed and reclined back on his elbows. ‘In all seriousness, are you sure about Chidori? Nobody cared when you were just kids hanging out as friends. But dating? Not to mention marriage and having babies. Some people might not approve of that these days.’
‘People can’t tell me who to love.’
‘No. But now that Japan is our enemy, some folks might make your life difficult. Is that the kind of trouble you want for her or your future kids?’
I glanced over at Chidori as she served a frail, silver-haired customer named Mrs Wagner. The woman dug through her pocketbook, searching for coins. Chidori handed her the basket full of garlic, tomatoes and potatoes, and since Mrs Wagner was recently widowed, Chidori refused to take her money. Tosh and Kenji had always teased Chidori for giving away more vegetables than she sold. Her father wasn’t overly thrilled that her charitable generosity put a dent in their profits either, but it’s hard to get cross with someone for having a big heart.
Joey opened his mouth to say more about my decision to pursue a formal relationship with Chidori, but he got distracted when my sister wandered up to the front of the amphitheatre stage and danced with a group of young ladies. Joey’s eyes bulged and his grin widened like a hound that spotted a rabbit. ‘Gosh, I love looking at your sister. Do you mind if I ask her to dance?’
‘Donna Mae might mind. Besides, don’t go getting your hopes up. Rosalyn’s engaged.’
‘Isn’t her fiancé stationed in London? It can get lonely when your sweetheart is overseas. She might be in the mood for some male companionship.’
‘Even if I would allow it, which I wouldn’t, you haven’t got a shot with her. She’s moving to Vancouver in September to start a nursing job. And, by the way, she hasn’t received a letter from her fiancé in a good while, so it’s probably best if you don’t mention him – unless you want her blubbering all over you.’
Joey’s head swivelled like he was watching a tennis match as Rose moved around the dancing area. Her blue skirt spun and the waves of her white-blond hair swayed over her shoulders. He didn’t break his concentration when he said, ‘They brought a navy ship into dock for the fair. You want to tour it?’
‘No thanks. I already know being cooped up in a ship’s hull for months would be no picnic.’
‘Flying a Spitfire in the air force would be a blast, though.’
‘Sure, but killing a person wouldn’t be.’
Joey shrugged as if that part hadn’t occurred to him. ‘An RAF recruiting officer was knocking door-to-door yesterday, looking to enlist boys for duty. Did he drop by your parents’ place?’
‘Yup.’
‘Are you going to sign up on your birthday?’
‘Nope. Why would I want to risk my life just because Germany was sore over how the last war ended and decided to start another one? I can’t believe how many marks fall for the hype and volunteer to get killed overseas.’
‘The Nazis are killing innocent people and stealing power from entire countries.’ Joey tilted his Ivy cap forward to shade his eyes from the August sun that angled through the giant fir trees. ‘You think we should all just sit back and let Germany take over the whole world in vengeance?’
‘The countries involved should fight. I don’t see why Canadians are putting their noses where they don’t belong.’
‘Just ’cause the enemy ain’t on our soil doesn’t mean they ain’t aiming to be. And when they attack our allies, it’s our war too. Besides, if they start conscripting for overseas service you might have no choice, pal.’
I nodded to reluctantly concede and picked at the drought-scorched grass. Conscription to fight overseas was the worst-case scenario. Fighting someone else’s war over greed or pride or power – or whatever it was over, and likely dying doing it, did not appeal to me in the slightest. Especially if it meant being sent so far away from home. But maybe Joey was right. If the fight was about justness and protecting innocent lives, it had merit. And if the enemy ever set foot on our soil, I wouldn’t hesitate to reconsider. But I still believed, perhaps naively, that despite the failure of the League of Nations, calmer heads would prevail. Unfortunately, the news on the radio and in the papers did make it sound as if sending more Canadian boys was inevitable, though. ‘Are you going to sign up?’ I asked.
Joey nearly snorted at the absurdity. ‘I would but they wouldn’t take me. I can barely see you from a foot away. I’d be useless with a gun. But who knows what tomorrow will bring? In case they start scraping the bottom of the barrel for skinny, nearly blind kids, I should probably seize the day while I’m still free to do so.’ He slapped my back, stood, and loped over to ask Rosalyn to dance.
A gang of younger boys chased each other around the dancers in a game of soldiers. They pretended to shoot at each other with their fingers and ran through a group of schoolgirls who huddled together, planning a round of hide and seek. Donna Mae stood up against the Agricultural Hall with her arms crossed, glaring enviously at Joey and Rose as they danced. Her eyes watered and her lip quivered, so I stood and wandered over to her.
Three young ladies my age, and two my sister’s age, noticed me walking over and all turned to face me, eager for an invitation to dance. ‘Hi Hayden,’ they all said in unison as they either flattened the fabric of their skirts or tucked flyaway hairs into bobby pins.
‘Ladies,’ I greeted them but extended my hand to Donna Mae. ‘Would you care to dance, Donna Mae?’
Donna Mae tucked her chin down timidly and glanced at the other girls. ‘You’re a sweet one, Hayden, but you know I dance like a lame horse. Ask one of the other girls.’
‘Just follow me. It’s easy – like walking.’
‘I can’t walk all that well half the time either.’
‘Trust me.’ I pulled Donna Mae by the hand and spun her around a few times. She smiled as I ushered her across the grass in a Lindy Hop. Well, I was doing a Lindy Hop. She was doing more of a wounded Bunny Hop.
We danced for another song, then Joey cut in, which I knew he would. Donna Mae giggled as he spun her around. Chidori was watching me, but when our eyes met, she pretended to write in her journal. I shoved my hands in my pockets and casually strol
led over to her stand. A customer beat me to the counter. After Chidori placed two cucumbers into the customer’s basket and collected the money, I leaned in and whispered, ‘Would you care to dance, Miss Setoguchi?’
Her face lit up at the invitation, but then she dropped her focus to the counter of the booth. ‘I should keep working, but thank you for asking.’
‘I think you should take a break. Just leave the vegetables out on the counter. You give most of them away at no charge anyway.’
‘Ha ha. You are quite the comical one.’ Her gaze met mine as she considered it, but then she scanned the fairgrounds and her forehead creased as something else crossed her mind. ‘What was the problem between you, Rory and Fitz earlier?’
‘It was nothing. I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to convince you to take a break and have a little fun dancing with me.’
She smiled reluctantly with one corner of her mouth. ‘I have to admit you are a smooth dancer.’
I chuckled. ‘Thank you, but I’m still looking for the right partner.’
‘I see.’ Her eyebrow arched delicately.
All We Left Behind Page 3
