A movement to her left had her turning sharply. All the relatives who had not gone to the celebration were in their own homes. "Who comes here?" she called out.
Ginjiro stepped out from behind a tree and bowed deeply. "Forgive me, Nakamura-san," he began. "I did not mean to alarm you."
Reiko's heart lifted. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "There is much food remaining from today's funeral service. The village women were very generous with their gifts."
In the city, gifts of money were traditionally given to the bereaved. But people in remote villages such as this showed their support by giving what they had. And for the esteemed Nakamura family, the gifts had been plentiful.
"It was not my intention to take anything from you," Ginjiro said. "I merely wished to make sure you were — safe."
"Of course," Reiko assured him. "But I have much more food here than my sons and I can eat, and I would like to offer some to you, as thanks for your service to the village." She paused, looking down as she added, "And your presence here is a great comfort to me."
The man's stature increased at the compliment. "I would be honored to take a meal in your home."
Chapter Twenty-one
Spring, 1877
Hiro had spent a long day at the market. Hanako had given him a long list of supplies needed for the farm and the house, and he had things he wanted to get for his own flower garden. After researching all winter, he had several new ideas he wanted to try. He had sent for special seeds, hoping to find varieties of blossoms that would grow at various times, even though the growing season in Hokkaido was relatively short. Hanako had been supportive of his plans for expanding the flower business of the farm. Never had he been so excited about a new endeavor.
He urged the horse to a faster gait as he neared his home. Hopefully the baby was still awake. Nothing in his life had ever given him such joy as looking into his son's eyes. This tiny being held a big piece of his heart, and he knew he would do anything for this child and the mother who had borne him.
Coming closer to his home, he gazed with pride at the neat rows of vegetable plants and the seedlings in the flower gardens. On the other side of the house, several cows grazed in neatly fenced-in pastures. Smoke rose from the chimney, assuring him the people inside were warm and snug against the chilly night air. It had been almost three years since he first came down this road to Hanako's home. What a difference those years had made in both their lives! His family and his new vocation gave him the peace he had sought all his life.
He stowed his purchases in the storage hut then stepped to the threshold of the house. Before he entered he could hear his wife's melodic voice. She sang an old tune, one he remembered his mother singing to him and his younger brothers. His childhood had been a happy one, though he couldn't remember his father being present much of the time. Yukio's life had been dedicated to his daimyo, and it was only when Hiro had joined the ranks of the samurai that father and son had made any close bonds. Hiro swore that would not happen between him and his own son.
The fire burned brightly and the aroma of a delicious meal greeted him. Hanako turned briefly from the stove, smiling a welcome before turning her attention back to their dinner.
Hiro went through to the bedroom and changed out of his traveling clothes. A hot soaking bath was just what he needed. He remembered the first time Hanako had walked through the house. She had never seen a room devoted specifically for bathing and had bristled at the expense for such a thing. But after the first time she scrubbed herself clean in the privacy of her home, rinsed herself with water much warmer than any stream, and then soaked her tired muscles in the hot, steamy bath, she never complained about the luxury again.
Feeling energized after the hot bath, he dressed in a light yukata and went in search of his family. Hanako had set the table while the baby sat on a soft furry blanket, playing with a stuffed kitten Reiko had made for him. Hiro knelt to the floor to get a better view of this miracle who was his flesh and blood.
Yasa-chan dropped his toy and stared up at Hiro's face. His son's tiny hand reached up to touch his grizzled cheek. Hiro was again struck with awe and wonder. Each time he looked in his son's eyes, he saw those of his wife. But Hanako claimed when Yasa cried, he resembled his stubborn father.
Hiro picked up the discarded toy and tickled Yasa's tummy. The baby responded with a delighted giggle, kicking his feet with glee. He moved the furry toy to tickle the little neck, the arms, and toes, each time eliciting a playful response. Father and son continued to entertain each other until Hanako proclaimed dinner ready. Not wanting to end his time with Yasa, Hiro picked up the baby and brought him to the table. Yasa sat quietly on his father's lap, watching intently as Hiro used his chopsticks to pick up the savory bits of meat and vegetables. Hiro couldn't resist feeding a few of the soft grains of rice to his son.
Soon, the tiny eyelids began to droop, and the little body on Hiro's lap sagged. Hanako gently picked up the tired baby and laid him down on his little ofuton. Hiro missed the warmth the tiny body had emitted.
Hiro had just finished his last bite when he heard a knock. Hanako hurried to the doorway and returned with a young man dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Guard. The stranger bowed low and addressed Hiro with respect.
"Tanaka-san, I bring a message from the capital." He held out a document tied with an elegant gold ribbon
Hiro frowned. "A message? From whom?"
"I come from the emperor himself."
"The emperor? How did he find me? And why?"
"He has been searching for you for almost a year. He heard you had been in Hakodate, meeting with the Minister of Finance."
Hiro remembered the circumstances that had taken him to Hakodate. The memory of his experience with the former government official had left a sour taste in his mouth. "But why does the emperor want to see me?"
"I was not told the contents of his message. I know he sends it on behalf of your family. My task was to deliver it to you."
The announcement brought a sense of unease. His family would not have appealed to the emperor for help unless there had been an emergency. He reached for the document and tore off the seal. The messenger backed up and waited quietly. Hiro scanned the short missive. His shoulders sagged with dejection. His perfect world had come to an end. Groaning with frustration, he rose and went outside to clear his mind.
****
Hanako wondered if she should follow her husband. Whatever the message was, it had upset him. Inwardly, she cursed the messenger who had brought such pain to him. Her husband had been so happy when he came home from his errands in the village, and now he looked as if his world had crumbled. She had spent the entire day preparing for his return. The walls and floors had been washed, the most beautiful and fragrant flowers from the garden had been artfully arranged throughout the house, a special meal had been painstakingly prepared — and she had a special surprise for him.
But the unveiling of her surprise had been delayed by unwelcome news from his family. She had watched his face grow pale as he had read the message. Perhaps something terrible had happened to someone in his family. She wished she knew more about his people, but whenever she had asked, he had answered vaguely and changed the subject.
She had never seen her husband so agitated. How she wanted to comfort him! He had been so patient and loving all through her pregnancy. But she had learned he was a private person. He had not told her much about his past, and he did not offer much insight into his own thoughts.
Turning to the messenger, she offered him tea and supper, which he gratefully accepted.
"Will you be here long?" Hanako asked.
"I have been instructed to wait for a response from Tanaka-san before I return."
"You will have a long journey back to Tokyo. I will prepare a room for you. Please have some more tea."
The young soldier, happy to find a comfortable place to rest, eagerly settled in to eat. Hanako waited for him to finish his meal then led him to an ex
tra room at the back of the house.
Finally, it was her turn to eat. She was glad she had made extra food, since the messenger had been quite hungry. The aroma of the grilled chicken and vegetables had piqued her appetite, and she had grown hungry waiting for Hiro to finish eating, but the arrival of their male guest had delayed her meal.
The message lay where Hiro had left it. She took her bowl to the table and knelt on her cushion. She ate her entire meal staring at the scroll, deciding whether to open it or wait for Hiro to return and explain. The scroll seemed to stare at her in return, calling to her. A year ago she would not have considered reading it, as the painted characters would have made no sense to her. But she and Reiko had been working on both reading and writing. She had planned to surprise Hiro tonight by reading a short poem she'd written for him. This document was much longer. Would she recognize enough characters to make sense out of the markings on the page?
Finishing her meal, she took her dishes to the washbowl. Hiro had been gone for quite some time — she had no idea when he would return. Perhaps she could be of comfort to him if she knew why he was upset. Carefully drying her hands, she knelt again at the table and unrolled the rich, thick paper, then concentrated on the figures before her.
The paper contained many characters she didn't understand, but she recognized a few — "mother" and "family" stood out. She recognized the symbols for Tokyo, the capital city. She frowned. So many symbols! She had been a fool to think she had learned enough in the months Reiko had tutored her. No wonder priests dedicated themselves to years of study.
She concentrated and reminded herself what Reiko had said: many characters were combinations of smaller ones. If she could only recognize the parts — here, a symbol for "death", and over there, the symbol for "person." Had someone in Hiro's family died? The handwriting was bold and striking; so unlike the flowing lines Reiko produced with her brush. Perhaps there were some other words she could recognize. There, at the end, a symbol she remembered from last week's lesson. The character was kaeru — "to return home."
Had Hiro been commanded to return to Tokyo?
If so, he would have to leave. It would be his duty, and she could do nothing to stop him. There would be no room for her in his world. She would be out of place and rejected, more of a detriment to him than a help. Her perfect world would come to an end.
She re-rolled the document and cleared away the remains of their interrupted dinner. It would serve no purpose to dwell on it. If he left, she would go on. She had always managed to survive, no matter the obstacle. She would do so again. She took a small comfort in knowing Hiro, too, had seemed upset by the contents of the message. But he must be loyal to his family as well as the emperor.
At least she had their son. She prayed Hiro would not take Yasa from her. Life without either of them was inconceivable. But the memory of father and son playing on the tatami mat just moments ago confirmed the close bond they had already formed. Perhaps Hiro would insist Yasa be educated in the finest schools and train for a respectable profession. If he did not allow her to come with him, how worthless her life would be! Her hands trembled at the possibility, and a fragile cup slipped out of her hand. It fell awkwardly onto the edge of the wooden washbowl and shattered.
It was, to Hanako, symbolic of her life with Hiro. The shattered pieces of the beautiful cup represented the joy she had experienced in the brief time she had known him. Her first impulse was to gather the shards and try to put them back together, but the first piece she touched tore through her skin. Hardly aware of the pain, she watched as her crimson blood mixed with the clear water, swirling around in a circular pattern before fading into pale pink. Time lost all meaning as she watched, entranced. The candle beside her burned itself out. Still, she knelt, her injured hand immersed in the liquid.
Hanako knelt on a plush cushion in a sumptuous tatami room, dressed in the finest silk. Attendants fixed her hair in an elaborate knot, dressing the coiffure with jeweled combs. She held out her hand as another attendant smoothed exotic creams on it. Across the room, a nursemaid played with the baby. She was cocooned in wealth and security.
What an honor to be the wife of a noted samurai, now a respected general in the Imperial Army. How lovely to reside in an elegant mansion, with servants bustling about, ready to see to her every whim. Wives of such important men did not need to worry about successful harvests or rising costs. Their only concern was to keep themselves beautiful.
She felt, rather than heard, him enter the room behind her and call her name. Curiously, the attendants melted away, and the luxurious surroundings faded into darkness. What happened to the light? She saw his shadow creep across the room and tried to call out to him, but no sound came. A flame leapt to life beside her as he lit one lantern and then another, and she recognized the specter as her husband. She looked down at the hand that had been extended toward the maid and found the lotion covering her hand had turned red. She lifted her hand to look more closely and stared at the jagged cut crossing her fingers. What had happened?
Hiro's hands held hers, and he murmured something. She felt him lift her, settle her on his lap, and wipe her injured hand. He checked it for stray pieces of broken china and wrapped it in a soft cloth. His strong arms surrounded her, holding her close. How amazing to feel such security, to give up all worries and concerns, and let someone else deal with them.
Vaguely, she heard the sounds of a fussing baby. Should she do something? Her arms felt heavy, her eyelids lowered, and the world faded away.
Chapter Twenty-two
Hiro gazed up at the palatial structure where his mother lived. It was a far cry from the building he had come to consider his home. All the trappings of wealth and nobility were proudly displayed here. Briefly he tried to imagine Hanako in these surroundings, but the picture didn't gel. Her way of life came from a love and respect for the tiny parcel of land she was proud to call her own. If she could love me nearly as much as she loves her farm, I would be a wealthy man.
The brief message from the Emperor had told him his brother Taro had been killed in the line of duty. Hiro was now the head of the Tanaka family, and was expected to take his place in the Emperor's service. He'd begged Hanako to come with him, but she'd refused. Her place was on her farm, she'd said. While she understood his duty to his family and the Emperor, she could not follow him to Tokyo.
They'd finally compromised — Hiro would go, and Hanako would stay and finish out the growing season on the farm. After the harvest, they would discuss the matter again. If Ginjiro and the Nakamuras hadn't promised to look out for Hanako and the baby, he would never have left without her.
It had taken him two weeks to return to the home of his birth. When he had left for the far north, he had been a bitter ex-soldier, seeking a plan for his life, looking for the elusive element that would give meaning to his existence. Now, he felt, he had found what he needed, but by returning here to take care of his birth family's needs, he may have lost the family of his heart.
Taking a deep breath, he entered the gilded gate. A tiny, gnarled man scurried forward to greet him as he removed his sandals at the doorway. "Welcome home, Master. Your mother is in the garden."
Hiro nodded at the servant and strode through the ornately furnished house to the exquisitely landscaped garden beyond. All his life he had taken this grandeur as his due. Though he had seen poverty and hardship during his travels as a samurai warrior, he had always had this palace to return to. Living with Hanako had taught him more about the important things in life. Returning to this, his childhood home, he was a bit ashamed of the extravagance, knowing so many of the people he had befriended could live for an entire year on the price of one painting.
His mother sat on a bench near the center of the gardens. At fifty-three, Michiko Tanaka had aged gracefully. The daughter of a successful merchant, she had been raised in comfort and tradition, but she had a spark of fire and a sense of humor that kept her young. Seeing her son, she rose eagerly to gree
t him.
"How wonderful to see you again, Hiro. I am pleased you have completed your travels unharmed."
Hiro bowed in respect. "I am pleased you are well, Okaasan."
The corners of her eyes crinkled, and her lips curved upward. "And now that we have dispensed with the formalities, come closer so I can hug you."
He laughed aloud. He should have remembered his mother's disdain for many of the conventions of polite society. Her willingness to voice her true opinions had caused his father to cringe with embarrassment on more than one occasion. She made her own rules, and one tradition she had never followed was keeping distance between herself and her adult children, physically or emotionally. He crossed the remaining steps to her and hugged her tightly. She seemed more frail than he remembered — or was he comparing her to the rugged woman he had left behind?
"You have grown even larger and stronger, my son," Michiko noted as she led him back to her bench. "Obviously you have found a way to keep fit. Have you come into the employment of an errant warlord?"
"No, Okaasan," he assured her. "I have been learning the ways of a farmer."
"Really?" She looked up at him. "We heard you were in Hakodate. Have you apprenticed to an estate near that city?"
"Not really. I am doing the actual labor on a tiny farm near Furano."
"A common laborer? Why? Have your travels left you destitute? Surely you could have sent for some money or—"
"No, no, I'm fine. I met a farmer who needed my help, and became interested in the work there. I am learning about agriculture, as well as the care and feeding of animals, and a little carpentry besides."
"I see. And this farmer, does he treat you well?"
Hiro thought of the contentment he felt working side by side with Hanako, the pride he felt in helping to work the land, and the joy she brought him each night. But he was not ready to talk about this yet. His life with her was so precious; he wanted to keep it close to his heart. And his choice to bind himself to a poor subsistence farmer would not be something his mother would easily understand. He would need time to approach the subject with her. For now he settled on vagueness. "Yes, Okaasan, I am well treated. Shimizu-san is a good farmer and teacher. I have learned much about agriculture and the care of animals." Calling his wife by her former name seemed odd, but it kept her identity hidden for now.
The Samurai's Garden Page 16