Japan, 1958
It’s been a few days since Little Bird’s arrival, and until today, I partook only in sponge baths with dried ginger root. Even now, after a full bath, its sharp smell sticks to my skin and burns my nose, just as the kerosene from the small paraffin heater Sister Sakura brought us does. At least it keeps away winter’s bite and our room is cozy.
Hisa, the wet nurse, rocks my baby and sings a lullaby while I tug at my still-damp hair, working to untangle its knots and the uncertainties in my mind.
It’s January.
Hajime left in September for Formosa. His service was up soon after, so he’d have traveled back to America for release. Has he returned to our little home in the village and found me missing? Did he go to Zushi to look for me there? I fear Grandmother and Father have sent him away with lies, so I asked Sora to seek news and leave the truth of my situation with my neighbor Maiko.
My baby has lost weight she couldn’t spare and struggles with every breath, but she is still alive, so we continue to try to feed and fatten. Sister Momo brings me warm meals of soup and mochi, rice cake, to see if I will plump, too. My head and body ache from lack of Housemother’s poison tea. Does the baby’s hurt from the withdrawal of poison? I glance to her in Hisa’s arms. My baby is swaddled, contented, cared for and loved, but does she suffer?
“What song is that, Hisa?”
“Oh, just an old cradle tune. She likes it, though, I think. You do, yes?” She lifts my draped baby higher and makes silly smiles near her face. “Oh, yes. Yes, you do.”
I laugh. “I like it, too.”
Normally, after birth, a daughter stays in her mother’s home for almost four weeks. Okaasan would have loved to sing lullabies. Even Grandmother would make a fuss if things were different.
If Grandmother were different, she still could.
I do not expect to remain here four full weeks, but where will I go? And feeding my baby is still in question. How will I pay Hisa? My weary heart plummets, so I sigh from the length of my soul, then blink to refocus. With the way Hisa holds Little Bird, only a tuft of blue-black hair sticks out. I set the brush on my lap and smile. “Her hair crowns her head like a strawberry cap.”
Hisa tries to press the stem flat with two fingers. It stands right up. She laughs. “Have you thought of a name for this little berry?”
Normally, the entire family would gather for the meimei, naming ceremony. My baby will have no ceremony, but yes, she will have a name.
“I thought of naming her after Okaasan,” I say, twisting my hair into a braid. “But then she would have a traditional Japanese name, and...” I glance at Hisa and speak the obvious. “She is not a traditional Japanese baby. So, instead of a name that attempts to blend in, maybe one to stand out? But I have not decided.”
Hisa just nods. What is there to say? With my baby’s lighter skin and rounded eyes, my Little Bird will stand out regardless.
“Hello, Naoko, Hisa.” Sister Sakura heads straight toward the baby as she walks in. Her robe of mustard spice hangs stiffly as though freshly dried from the sun and not yet loosened by her movements. The burnt ochre fades where the cloth has worn, but the rest is bright like the smile lifted on her cheeks. “And hello, little egg with eyes.”
I stifle a laugh with memory. Hajime thought “egg with eyes” is an odd term for beautiful. I told him it is a great compliment to have a perfectly shaped oval head and big beautiful eyes. Our baby’s eyes are massive on such a little face.
The sister’s smile fades as she and Hisa speak in hushed tones. She has brought a syringe to siphon collected milk for the baby. They fear she is dehydrated, she is not gaining enough; her cries have weakened. Worrying builds nothing but sorrow and empties the day of strength.
Little Bird needs my strength.
With the syringe filled with milk, they prepare my baby. Shifting, I pull myself upright and move to sit beside her.
“Hold her up, we don’t want her to choke.” Sister Sakura places the dropper into Little Bird’s mouth and squeezes. “We want just a dab on her tongue, so she can manage it.”
I stroke her head, whispering words of encouragement. “There you go.” I smile when her lips close to taste. “You can do it.”
“It works!” Hisa laughs. “Look at that.”
Sister Sakura pushes her glasses up. “And you will be able to feed her, Naoko. Here, try.” She hands me the dropper. “Careful. Only one drop. And only after it is gone do you add another.”
I beam, delighted. “At this rate, she will always feed.”
“Yes, this way there is hope, yes?” Sister Sakura places her hand on my arm. “Are you ready to meet with the abbot?”
My smile and stomach drop in tandem.
“Why this face?” Her brows bunch, and the wrinkle of her nose causes her glasses to slide. “He only wishes to talk with you and Sora. There is no need for concern, child.”
I nod with a compulsory smile, then refocus on feeding my baby, but my mind circles scenarios. Housemother Sato lost not only my fee, but Sora’s, and Hatsu’s. I imagine she is out looking for us.
Unless she no longer needs to.
When Sora steps in from the doorway, she won’t meet my eyes. My heart falters. Something’s wrong.
“Hello, child.” Sister Sakura looks over her spectacles at Sora, then shifts her gaze to me.
“Can Sora and I have a moment alone?” I look to Sister Sakura, then to Hisa.
Hisa stands, but I object to her leaving with my baby. “No, I will take her. It’s okay. I will continue to feed her as soon as she wakes.” My arms are already outstretched. Housemother may be near.
Hisa carefully hands her over, then eyes Sora with a curious expression.
Sister Sakura pats my arm. “I will let the abbot know you both are here.”
I nod, then make room on the futon when they leave. “Please, Sora, sit. Tell me what you’ve learned.”
She sits, but her lips hold a tight line.
I need to pry them open, need to know what secrets are inside. “Sora, did you find my neighbor Maiko?” My heart rises high in my throat while I wait.
“Maiko wasn’t there.” Sora’s shoulders drop with a sigh.
“Was her daughter there watching her little brother?” Tatsu’s handsome face flashes in my mind: big eyes, long lashes and covered in mud. I lean closer, causing the baby to stir. “Sora?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “There wasn’t anyone living there. It was empty.”
“Empty? Did you go the right house?” My heart pounds an irregular beat. “Did you go to mine?”
Her knowing eyes level to my desperate ones.
I sit back and swallow, biting at my worried lip so hard I taste blood. Not knowing is bad, but not knowing doesn’t change what is. “Sora, please, just tell me. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” I nod to encourage her.
She takes a deep breath. “An old woman who calls herself Grandmother Fumiko—”
“Yes!” The familiar name gives me hope. “She helped me get ready for my wedding.”
“She said Maiko’s family moved on to another village.”
“Oh...” I nod. “Okay, yes. I guess this is common within these—” I stop on the word. Eta move where there is work. I just never thought of it. “Did she say where? Did she see Hajime?” My thoughts are frantic, so my words are rushed.
Sora pulls back her shoulders, looks at her hands.
“Sora?”
She looks up and shifts so she’s closer. “He...well...” She wrings her hands. “Naoko, Hajime has not returned.” Her chin drops. So does her gaze. “I am sorry.”
“He has not returned? At all?” My heart writhes from the pressure. I don’t understand. He’d have left word. I reach for her arm and shake it. “Were there any letters left at the house?”
She tilts her head. “Since your house sat vacant, another family has moved in. So, there was nothing.”
Nothing.
My fingers fall away from her sleeve.
Now I cannot breathe.
As Hajime was detained, I feared we’d lose the house, but I expected word. I thought Maiko’s family could take me in for a while. Grandmother Fumiko lives with another family already. I glance at my sleeping baby and try not to panic, but it bubbles up. “Now what?”
Sora takes my trembling hand in hers.
I look up. “In my mind, Sora, I saw Hajime’s return at least a hundred times.” My shoulders fall, my words a mere whisper. “He’d search for me, frantic to know where I’d gone. I even saw him traveling the train to Zushi. Running up the hill to my family’s house and calling out for me.”
“Then what happens?” Sora asks, leaning over, pressing her forehead to mine so we form a triangle over my bundled baby.
“‘Naoko,’ he’d say, and Obaachan would hobble to the door, wearing such a frown.” I blink Sora into focus through tears.
She squeezes my hand.
“Hajime would believe nothing she’d say. He’d keep looking until he found me. Then he’d pull me into his arms, saying, ‘I love you, Cricket. Where is our Little Bird?’ You see, in my mind, Sora, it was always Grandmother’s or Father’s lying that would send Hajime away.” I blink back the daydream and lift my eyes through wet lashes. “I never imagined they wouldn’t need to.” I shake my head with quivering lips pulled high and wide to hold it in.
Sora’s hands cup my cheeks. “Maybe he couldn’t get back, and his letters went unanswered? Maybe he learned others inhabit your house, and he thinks the return trip isn’t welcomed?”
Or maybe he’s left me.
Maybe I was blind, after all.
The baby stirs and with puckered lips cries in silence. I cry loud enough for us both. My shoulders shake from the earthquake of emotion. Sora strokes my hair, and I think of Obaachan. My family. Hajime.
How much I have lost.
I cry and cry, then exhausted from it all, I think of nothing.
Has this all been for nothing?
“Sora, Naoko?” Hisa leans in. “The abbot is on his way.”
Sora and I share a look of “what if...” What if Housemother has contacted him? What if she is here? What if they expect us to leave with her? But before it’s given to voice, the abbot has arrived.
“May I enter?” His rich robe colored of boiled bark and tubers hangs heavy without ornamentation. He is slight in size but centers the community and commands the space.
If the abbot is of fertile earth, then the sisters and monks are its bounty. A succession of spice in shades of curry, cumin and turmeric follows him in.
Sister Sakura has her glasses off and makes quick introductions as she cleans them with a cloth.
I hear nothing except the beating of my heart.
Is no one else coming? Sora and I share a curious glance.
“Hello, girls and new little life,” the abbot says, observing my baby as Hisa attempts to feed her with the dropper. His joyful smile pulls high and rounds out his cheeks. His eyes squint with soft crinkles in the corners. It is infectious, but I do not smile. Neither does Hisa when he asks if my baby now feeds? Instead, she shakes her head.
“She will,” I say to them both. “Please, keep trying.”
We form an informal circle with Sister Sakura to my left, Sister Momo, Sora and the abbot to my right. I am still on edge and ready to snatch my baby from Hisa and dart away.
“I would like you to start at the beginning. How you came to be at our door.” The abbot folds his hands inside his oversize sleeves and rests his eyes on me.
They are kind, but are they understanding? “We were at the Bamboo Maternity clinic down the road.” I wait and gauge reactions but get none, so continue. “My mother just recently passed, so I was home, and...”
The baby stirs, allowing me pause to consider my words. How to explain everything?
“I had some trouble with the pregnancy. We were afraid I could lose the baby, so my Grandmother sent for a midwife. She wanted to do further tests, so I was taken to the maternity home, but...” I tense and look down, not sure how to speak of Grandmother’s intent. “How do I explain what I myself don’t understand?”
“Naoko, just speak your truth.” The abbot’s voice is soft and reassuring. His lips turn up at the corners. “Sometimes you have to push the stick in the thicket to drive out the snake.”
The words find their way to my lips, and once I start, I cannot stop them. They flow in a rapid sequence to string together the events of the last year and a half. I tell them of Hajime, our wedding, about my family. Even Satoshi and how he was my family’s choice. I explain how Housemother locked the gates and then, glancing across to Sora, I tell about the babies.
All those babies.
How they cried, and how they did not. Yoko’s, Jin’s, Aiko’s, Chiyo’s...so many more.
I do not just push the stick, I jab it, to reveal Housemother Sato.
They listen without interruption and, as far as I can tell, without judgment. Hisa’s eyes have moistened with tears and she dabs at them. The sisters shake their heads. Even Sora’s eyes water. She was not with Jin, Hatsu and me. Maybe she didn’t know the full extent of Housemother Sato’s heartless cruelty?
Sora picks up where I left off to explain the state she found me in, the tea, our escape and journey here.
The abbot sighs. His smile vanished as though it were never there.
The baby fusses and I reach for her. Hisa hesitates, but I insist. I don’t care if this pulls their patience. Right now I’m still unsure of everything. Everyone. Better hungry than missing. “Is she here?” I blurt, not able to hold it in any longer. “Has she come for us?”
“That woman?” Sister Sakura asks, her face folding. “No, no, child. We simply wanted to learn your story.”
“And I wish to thank you both for sharing it,” the abbot says, sitting taller. “And for your bravery.”
Small nods of soft agreement fill the space.
“What will happen now?” Sora asks.
Sister Sakura readjusts her glasses. “We will inform local officials, so they may consider the matter, of course.”
“But they will not do anything,” I say in protest, looking from one face to the next. “An inquiry won’t make a difference.”
“That depends on who you ask,” the abbot says. “Once, a man was walking along the shore when he spotted a monk reaching down to the sand, picking something up and very carefully throwing it into the ocean.” The abbot frees his hands and uses them to demonstrate. “As the man got closer, he called out, ‘What are you doing?’ The monk paused, looked up and answered, ‘I am throwing starfish back into the ocean. The sun is up, and the tide has left them here to die.’”
I rock my baby and listen.
“The man looked up and down the vast shoreline, then back to the monk. ‘Do you not see the miles and miles of stranded starfish? You surely cannot make a difference.’ The monk listened politely, then threw another starfish into the sea, past the breaking waves and said, ‘It made a difference for that one.’” The abbot grins, his eyes shine in amusement. “See, Naoko?” The abbot lifts his chin. “Did you not help Hatsu? Did you, Sora, not help Naoko? Did your actions not make a difference for that one?” He nods to my Little Bird.
The abbot leans forward to stand. The sisters and monks rise, as well. Only Sora and Hisa stay behind. I glance again at my sleeping baby. Grandmother always said, “Even nothing is something.”
She is something.
“Brother Yuudai?” I call out.
The abbot turns, stepping back through the door, brows arched high. “What is it, child?”
“Please, if you can make arrangements, I need to see my father.”
I have not come this far for nothing.