by Sumi Hahn
Junja’s voice quivered. “My mother passed away this spring.”
The man stammered. “You’re joking, right?”
Junja shook her head, eyes glimmering.
The man took off his hat and threw it into the dirt. “Damn, this dog luck of mine.”
When he noticed Junja’s stricken face, he bent down to retrieve his hat, muttering. “Please accept my sincere condolences.”
The constable eyed the stump Junja was sitting on. “May I sit down, please? I’ve been walking all day, and your news comes as a bit of a shock.”
The girl scooted out of the way. The constable plopped down with a sigh.
He started fanning himself with his hat. “I feel a bit faint. From hunger. You wouldn’t, by any chance, have something to eat in your kitchen? I understand it probably wouldn’t be as delicious as those rolls your mother made, but I’m so hungry that anything would taste good.” He tossed her a coin. “I’d be happy to pay a fair price.”
Junja caught the coin. She wiped her nose and stammered. “There’s some jook I could heat up.”
“No, no, no. Why would I eat porridge when I still have all my teeth? Something more substantial …” He rubbed his chin. “How about some rice cakes? With pork belly on the side?”
The man must be daft. Who would have rice cakes and pork at this time of year? “We don’t have any pork, sir. And we won’t have any rice cakes until harvest.”
“What about some kimbop? Do you know how to make that?”
Junja had never heard of that dish before. “I’ll do my best to make you something worth eating.”
“All right, then. Why don’t you try.” The constable waved her away, pulling a silk handkerchief out of his stained pants. He blew his nose loudly as the girl ran inside.
* * *
Junja considered the options in the pantry: radish, kelp, and fish, all dried; millet, barley, and beans in straw baskets; and in a dark corner, a bowl of mung beans sprouting in water. Outside, spinach, green onions, zucchini, garlic, and lettuce grew in the garden, where crocks of kimchi and bean paste were buried under the shade of a magnolia tree. She decided to fetch an egg.
The chickens squawked so loudly that Grandmother was roused from her nap. The old woman went outside to ask why the girl was looking for eggs when she should have been tending the wash.
“The bedding is drying, Halmung. There’s a constable in the front yard who wants lunch. He’s already paid for it.” Junja showed her grandmother the coin.
“A constable?” The old woman hid her sudden wariness.
“He was guarding the mountain pass the day I got the pig. He looked hungry, so I gave him some bing-ddeok. He said it was the most delicious thing he’d eaten on the island and that he wanted to buy meals from Mother. He’s been searching for her ever since.”
“You never mentioned that before.”
“I never got the chance.”
“Of course, you didn’t. Such a terrible, terrible day.” Grandmother peered around the corner of the house to see the constable readying himself for a nap. After watching Junja gather ingredients from the garden, the old woman decided to roll up her sleeves. “Let’s pull some watercress too.”
“Won’t that be too much food?”
“Not for what he paid. Let’s put out some gosari as well. That’ll give him his money’s worth.” Grandmother walked back toward the house. “I’ll start the soup.”
* * *
When Junja and Grandmother brought out the food, the constable was snoring next to the stump, his hat covering his face.
“Sir! Hello, sir?” Grandmother gently prodded him with her toe.
The hat slid down, revealing one open eye. “Who goes there?”
“We brought your lunch, sir.”
The man sat up, eyeing the generous meal with suspicion: millet with mung beans; gosari; fish; egg custard; green onion kimchi; seasoned dried radish; and a round shell brimming with dwenjang soup.
“Well, all of this looks very promising.”
Junja balanced the board with its dishes on the stump. The constable scooted closer, raising his knee to sit more comfortably. He took a deep sniff of the soup.
“It smells promising, too. But will it be worth eating?” He took a noisy slurp, and his eyes grew wide. He spluttered angrily, “Who made this?”
Grandmother inclined her head, while Junja wrung her hands.
The constable looked visibly upset as he shoved a few strands of gosari into his mouth. He chewed quickly, tasting every side dish twice before putting down his chopsticks. He lifted the bowl of soup again and took a deep swallow before looking up.
“I regret to say this, but your dwenjang soup rivals my mother’s. But I’ll deny saying so if you ever repeat it.” He picked up his chopsticks again, this time eating with gusto.
At the end of the meal, the constable announced his intention to visit as often as possible. He addressed his questions to Grandmother, who, he rightly guessed, bore primary responsibility for the meal. “If I brought you meat, could you prepare it the way I like? Such as trotters?”
“If you pay me properly, I could cook anything you want. Even sausages.”
The constable looked skeptical. “My mother’s soondae is famous. I couldn’t eat just any ordinary kind of sausage.”
“Then you’ll be able to appreciate just how good my soondae is. Of course, I’ll need the proper ingredients.”
“I can get whatever you need. Beef, rice, sugar. Even foreign items from the American military commissary.”
The old woman narrowed her eyes. “How very interesting. Let’s discuss the details over a cup of tea, shall we?” She gestured toward the blankets and drying rack. “Junja, go tend the bedding. The constable and I are going to have a little chat.”
Ten
His name was Lee Kyung Ho. He hadn’t intended to become a constable, but the political unrest had interrupted his studies at Seoul National University, where he had been hoping to become a classical scholar and poet like his deceased father and grandfather. Convinced that war was imminent, his mother had bribed his way into a desk officer’s post to keep him away from the unnatural border that cut the country in half. His knack for bureaucratic prose had led to a promotion down south on Jeju, the island of exiles. It was far from the conflict brewing up north, but too far from his mother’s cooking.
“No one speaks proper Korean around here! It’s not just an accent you Jeju folk have—it’s an entirely different language!” Constable Lee was on his fourth lunch visit in as many days. This time he had brought a bag of finely milled white flour, which the old woman transformed into knife-cut noodles.
“The soft yet chewy consistency of these noodles is remarkable. I’m not sure my mother could match this.” Mr. Lee’s beard seemed to soak up as much broth as he swallowed.
Grandmother responded from her perch on the front stoop. “I would like to meet your mother someday, as you are quite a talented judge of good food.”
“You’re right about that.” The constable waved his hands expansively. “All my senses are sharp, but my sense of taste is exceptional.”
He lifted the bowl to slurp down the dregs. “I keep meaning to ask you something.” His eyes narrowed. “Your spoken Korean. It’s quite polished. And your accent isn’t so distorted. But you’re a diver in a hick village. Who are you really?”
The old woman returned the constable’s probing stare. “You’re more perceptive than you appear, aren’t you?” She lifted her chin. “The Goh family is one of the original yangban families of Jeju, known for educating its daughters. I attended school with my cousins in Seoul before the family fortunes took a downturn during the occupation.”
“That’s why you can cook mainland dishes?”
“I learned in my aunt’s kitchen.”
“Does that mean you know how to make kimbop? It would come in handy to be able to take a meal to go.”
“If you can describe the taste properly, I
can cook anything.”
Grandmother listened to the constable’s enthusiastic praise for the seaweed rolls and determined that the right kind of seaweed did not grow in Jeju’s warmer waters. “You’d need to send for some from the mainland.” She rummaged in the wooden chest for a stump of pencil. “Do you have any paper for a grocery list?”
Mr. Lee handed her a rumpled piece, soft from being erased many times. “I can send the list to Mother when the passenger ferry comes in from Mokpo.”
The old woman looked up quickly. “Do you know when that boat is due?”
“Five days. It was delayed by engine repairs. And now they’re waiting for the tides.”
“How do you know this?”
“From the radio operator at Jeju Port. I have full access to the logs.”
Grandmother twisted the pencil, looking thoughtful. “You’re a person of many hidden talents, aren’t you?”
The constable returned her stare. “Perhaps as many hidden talents as you.”
The old woman glanced around to make sure that none of the children, especially Junja, were close enough to hear her next question. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, know which dog beat my daughter to death, would you?”
The constable’s expression remained carefully blank. “The girl’s mother was taken in for questioning by the military police? That’s how she died, the haenyeo Goh Sookja?”
The old woman nodded. “This information is not to be shared, especially with the children. It’s safer for them to believe there was a diving accident.” She took a breath. “We don’t need to attract any more attention from the so-called authorities.”
Mr. Lee understood the old woman’s caution. His half-lidded gaze opened up. “I’ll find out who was responsible. I’m curious: What will you do when you find out?”
Grandmother didn’t answer, and the constable knew better than to ask again.
* * *
Grandmother was certain that Father would be on the delayed boat from Mokpo, so she allowed her youngest grandchildren to play in the sea as much as they wanted, without reminding them of their lessons. The water was not as soft and warm up north, she explained to Junja as she piled extra helpings of food onto their plates.
“Your father is coming tomorrow. You’ll need to gather everything you want to take with you to your new home.” Grandmother made the announcement near the end of an especially lavish dinner. That morning, she had traded away a cherished silver hairpin for some oxtail and a fist-sized chunk of beef.
The children looked down at their bowls. Their bulging cheeks stopped moving.
“I’ll get more sprouts.” Junja rose from the table to hide her face.
Jin swallowed. “Will Father let me take my rocks?”
Gongja wrinkled her nose. “Why would you take rocks to the mainland? Everyone will think you’re a stupid country bumpkin.”
“But these are special magical Jeju rocks. Right, Grandma?”
The old woman nodded. “The black windstones of Jeju are the teardrops of Grandma Seolmundae’s five hundred sons.”
Gongja scoffed. “How could a giant grandmother create all of Jeju with just seven shovels of dirt? And if she was so strong, why couldn’t she pull herself out of the pot of soup she fell into? It’s a silly story.”
“Watch your mouth,” Grandmother shouted after Gongja as the girl ran into the kitchen. “Why do you think doldam walls work so well to keep out the winter cold? A wall made of ordinary rocks couldn’t stop those howling sea winds. Don’t offend the spirits with your careless talk.”
Junja was wiping her eyes on her sleeves when Gongja burst into the kitchen, sniffling. The two sisters wept silently as they held each other close.
Eleven
“Are you sure that’s our father? He doesn’t look familiar to me at all.” Jin was worrying his bundle, pulling at the ties that kept it closed. All the clothing he owned was wrapped inside, along with several black stones.
“Isn’t he handsome? You and Gongja look just like him, except for the gray in his hair.” Junja tried to sound cheerful as she rubbed the bristle on her brother’s head.
Father had arrived on a hired cart while she and Grandmother were making breakfast. Junja had heard his whistle from afar and remembered how the sound could coax mountain sparrows out of trees. The little things would hop closer and closer as Father chirped, enticing them into a cage with a twig of millet. After he moved away, Mother had stopped feeding the birds, and the fluttering bamboo cage had gone still.
“I can’t believe I’m moving to a big city on the mainland.” Gongja preened herself in a little fragment of mirror. Junja, who found the shiny shard in the ocean, had bound its sharp edges in cloth before giving it to her sister as a farewell gift.
“Why can’t you and Halmung come with us?” Jin started sniffling.
“Grandmother is too old to leave Jeju. And I need to stay here to take care of her.” Junja’s attempt to be convincing sounded hollow to her own ears.
“W-w-what if Halmung dies while we’re gone? How am I going to pay my respects?” Tears streaked Jin’s face. “I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna leave.”
Gongja lifted her eyes from the mirror to frown. “It’s bad luck to say things like that, dummy!”
“You’re the dummy! Stop staring at your stupid face all the time.”
Junja hushed her sister and brother. “Don’t fight like this when you’re with Father! Please behave, for Mother’s sake.”
* * *
Gongja and Jin ate their porridge while peeking at their father. His face was covered by the bowl as he loudly slurped.
Junja had been surprised by how much her father had changed. His cheeks were thinner, his skin darker, and multiple lines worried his forehead. Everything about him seemed smaller than she remembered, including his thinning hair.
He had returned Junja’s stare, unnerved by her resemblance to her mother. “You look just like her on the day we met.”
After he recovered from that shock, Father had horsed around with Jin, making the little boy laugh. Junja felt less anxious, seeing them bond so quickly. Sons needed their fathers. The move would be good for her brother. However, Junja worried that her sister would never leave the kitchen, for all purposes a servant to the second wife. Grandmother must have shared her concern, because she made Father repeat his promise to send both children to school.
He smacked his lips as he placed the empty bowl on the table. “My apologies for eating and running, but we need to leave right away. I’m sure you understand.”
Grandmother frowned. “Why the rush? It’s been six years since you last saw your children.”
Father rubbed his brow. “More American ships are expected. Once they land, there’ll be no room for the ferry from Mokpo. We need to line up tonight for the morning departure. If we don’t make that boat, we might get stranded for weeks before they let a civilian ferry back into the harbor. My funds won’t last that long.”
Grandmother turned to Junja. “Go help your brother and sister get ready.” When the children were out of earshot, she spoke again, in a low voice.
“How many ships are coming to clog up the entire port like that?”
“I don’t know. The entire city is on edge, waiting for something bad to happen.”
“If too many people think that way, then something will.” The old woman grasped at a straw. “Take Junja with you as well.”
The man looked down, ashamed. It had been hard enough to convince his wife to accept the younger two. “I don’t have money for her fare.”
“I can give it to you.” The old woman thought of her remaining silver hairpin.
He considered his wife’s temperament. “I can’t risk it. Besides, there are just as many American troops in Busan. If trouble is coming, no place in Korea will be safe.”
The children returned, putting an end to the whispered conversation. Both Gongja and Jin looked subdued. Their eyes and noses were red.
Fat
her reached into his pocket, smiling broadly. “Jin! Gongja! I have a surprise for you.” He pointed to his closed fist.
The two youngsters approached their father with caution. Jin pounced first, trying to pry open his father’s fingers. His hand opened to reveal two squares of rice candy, wrapped in paper. He gave the sweets to the children while ushering them away. “You kids go wait outside for the cart.” He turned to the grandmother. “Could you pack us something for the road?”
Junja remembered that wheedling voice, the one Father would use to charm Mother out of a temper.
“I’ve already packed your lunches.” The old woman gestured to a cloth bundle on the floor. She nodded to Junja. “Say what you need to say. Who knows when you’ll see each other again in this lifetime. I’ll be outside with the little ones.” The front door closed, leaving the two of them alone.
Father cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me.” He was holding out something small, wrapped in a scrap of fabric.
More rice candy? Junja pretended not to see it. “I’d rather stay here.”
“You’re old enough to take care of yourself, I guess.” Father took her hand and pressed the object into her palm. “Please, take it. It’s not much, but it’s all I can give you.”
A bit of money, Junja thought, to pay off his obligation to her. She bowed stiffly. “Thank you.”
“Well, then. I should be going.” He held out his arms for an embrace. When Junja ignored him, he cleared his throat and swallowed.
“Don’t forget your promise to send them both to school!” Junja was surprised by the vehemence in her voice.
Father jumped. He avoided Junja’s eyes as he walked away. “I swear I’ll keep that promise.”
* * *
Inside the small package from father were several coins and a small pink pearl. Junja showed it to Grandmother after the two of them had stopped weeping. They had stood in the road waving goodbye until they could no longer see the cart.