Free Fall

by Fern Michaels

  “Your grandfather’s name is Kiyoshi, which means quiet. Your grandmother’s name is Umeko, which means she is a plum-blossom child. So, you have three aunts and four uncles if they are still alive. You also probably have many cousins. Do you know what your mother’s last name was?”

  “No, the aunts did not tell me. I don’t know if they knew. They just used the one name.”

  “Well, the name on this paper says your mother’s last name was Naoki, which, by the way, means straight tree. A very pretty name. Do you feel better now, Yoko, that you know your relatives’ names?”

  Yoko rolled the names off her lips several times. “Yes, oh, yes. Now I don’t feel like an orphan. Even if it turns out that we can’t find any of them I will be content knowing this. I brought my mother’s picture with me to show…my…my family. Annie, do you think they are alive? Do you think they will like me?”

  Annie’s throat constricted. “I don’t know if they are alive, child. What I do know is, if they are, they will love you with all their hearts.”

  “It’s kind of you to say that. I want to believe it. Perhaps now that we are just hours away I will be able to sleep. Do you mind if I do not keep you company?”

  “Not at all. I’ll watch the countryside and read all these papers and the newspapers to make the time go faster.”

  The moment Yoko slipped into a sound sleep, Annie relaxed and leaned into the corner of the comfortable car. She, too, was asleep within minutes.

  It was a small, ragtag village with lopsided stores, vegetable stands, rusty pickup trucks, chickens and ducks waddling across the road scratching for food. Old people and little children walked slowly as they moved about. Yoko could only gasp. Annie wasn’t as shocked as Yoko was. She’d seen villages like this when she and her family had first retired to Spain. Her husband had worked tirelessly to improve conditions for the people and, for the most part, had been successful. To this day she funded those same villages, leaving the disbursement of funds to the padres.

  The car ground to a halt. The driver got out of the car and walked up to one of the old ramshackle buildings. “I wonder if he speaks Japanese,” Annie said.

  Yoko opened the car door and sprinted to the same building. She couldn’t wait for the driver’s halting use of the language. She was like a runaway train, her words tumbling over one another as she asked for directions to the house of her grandparents, Kiyoshi and Umeko Naoki.

  Annie watched as the young woman and the aged one conversed. There were a lot of hand movements and nods. Finally, Yoko wiped at her eyes and bowed low in respect to the aged one.

  Both the driver and Yoko returned to the car. This time, Yoko sat in the front seat so she could offer directions in English. She turned around, her eyes wet and glistening.

  “My grandparents are alive but unwell. They live on the same small farm. The man told me there are no aunts. He said they are all gone and he does not know where they went but it was many years ago. One uncle lives in Tokyo and comes one time each month and brings much food and medicine. One uncle is in Saigon and only comes one time a year. Another uncle stays with my grandparents and the last uncle is a no-good bum. He does not know where he is. I didn’t ask about cousins. I have a family. I really have a family. Oh, Annie, thank you so much for making this trip possible. I will never be able to thank you.”

  Annie smiled. “I just provided the transportation. Charles found your relatives. I am happy for you, child. Oh, your grandparents are going to be so surprised when they see you.”

  Yoko started to cry. “I brought no gifts. We should have brought food and presents. What will my grandparents think of me?”

  “We can do all that later, little one. You did bring a present, the picture of your mother. I think for now the picture will be gift enough.”

  “Annie, you know about such things: what would I have to do to take my grandparents to America where I can take care of them?”

  “Slow down, little one, not so fast. It won’t be an easy task but I’m sure Charles can arrange things if your grandparents are willing to make the trip. If they are not well, they might not want to leave their home.”

  “I’m sure I can convince them to visit. I will wait on them hand and foot, shower them with love and good food I cook myself. I will give my grandmother flowers every day. I do not know what you do for a grandfather but I will find out.”

  “Perhaps a big hug every day,” Annie said.

  “That would work, too. Oh, we’re slowing down. This must be the farm.”

  Annie looked out the window. The farm was exactly what she expected, no more, no less. Very poor people lived here, trying to eke out a living and to stay alive. Well, she could change all that with one phone call. She watched as Yoko leaped out of the car before it came to a complete stop, and raced across the dry patch of ground that led to the door of the house.

  Annie climbed out of the car along with the driver, who looked as tired as she felt. They both leaned against the side of the car. Neither spoke.

  What was going on indoors? Was the reunion a happy one? Childishly, Annie crossed her fingers. Her eyes on the door, she continued to wait. She jerked to attention when Yoko appeared and shouted, “Come, come, I want you to meet my grandparents!”

  The driver, a burly man who looked like a sumo wrestler, grinned as he took Annie’s elbow to escort her into the little farmhouse.

  Chapter 4

  The driver elected to stay outside, mumbling something that sounded like, “I have no wish to intrude on a family reunion.”

  Annie shrugged and walked into the tidy, spartan room where two old, wizened people sat in little chairs. She was immediately struck by how tiny the aged ones were, just like Yoko. Their eyes in their wrinkled faces were bright and alert, the grandmother’s full of tears. The old couple inclined their heads and Annie bowed in respect.

  Annie looked around for a chair but there were none, just mats and cushions. Yoko indicated she should sit wherever she wanted as she dropped to her knees and reached out to take one hand of her grandmother and one hand of her grandfather. “They are happy to see me. They say I look exactly like my mother. They want to know everything there is to tell about my mother. I must tell them many lies to make them happy. I will tell them she died from problems in her chest and that she owned a lovely flower shop that she gave to me. I will tell them the handsome American who…who purchased her died in a car crash. They have not seen my other aunts once they were sold. My grandmother’s heart is heavy. She said all her daughters were beautiful. My grandfather says his sons are selfish and uncaring. The one who is a no-good bum takes drugs and is in jail a lot of time. The other sons want no part of him, although one son does bring food and medicine, when he thinks about it. His heart is also heavy.”

  Annie couldn’t think of a thing to say so she simply nodded. She crossed her legs and tried to get comfortable on the cushion she was sitting on. How was this all going to end? she wondered.

  An hour passed and then another. Annie tried to unobtrusively stretch her neck. Her legs were getting cramped. She wanted to stand up and go outside but she didn’t want to cause a diversion.

  Finally, Yoko turned to Annie. “My grandparents have no wish to even temporarily go to the big city. They say their son, the one who comes once a month, lives in the evil city. They do not wish to go to America. They want to stay here where they will die. They have only one wish and that is to go to a Shinto shrine but they cannot do even that because they are too sick and frail. They asked me to go and light the joss sticks. I said I would do that when I return home. My grandmother wanted to know what my mother’s favorite flower was and I said ‘a lily.’ I have no idea if that is true or not. She smiled. She, too, loves lilies. Once, she said, she had a flower garden. Now all she has is a small vegetable garden. A little boy in the village comes to tend it.”

  Annie looked around. “What do they do all day, Yoko? There is no television, no radio, no newspapers. How do they pass the da
y?”

  Yoko offered up a wan smile. “They sit. They smoke their opium pipes. They eat their rice and vegetables and they…dream. Of what I’m not sure.”

  Annie felt tears gather in her eyes. She wanted to ask if they had regrets about selling their daughters but she bit her tongue. Yoko, as if reading her thoughts, said, “They speak to each other every single day about their daughters as they try to imagine the wonderful lives they have. They pretend they have twenty grandchildren from their daughters in the far-off land of America where the streets are gold and money hangs from trees.”

  “Don’t they wonder why their daughters never came back to take care of them?”

  Yoko sighed. “No, they simply accept their absence. As you can see, they are simple people with no desires. It is breaking my heart but I must accept it. We must leave now. They do not wish me to stay. I…I thought they would want me to stay with them for a few days but they say no, I must return to my life and to remember them in my prayers.”

  “Then I’ll wait outside for you so you can say your final good-byes,” Annie said as she untangled herself from her cushion. “I must be getting old,” she mumbled to herself as she groaned at the stiffness she felt in her legs. Unsteady on her numb feet, she bowed low and said, “Sayonara.” The old ones nodded.

  When the door closed behind Annie, Yoko moved closer to her grandparents, still on her haunches. She talked quickly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wanted to ask them if they loved her, if they loved her mother and her aunts, but the words stuck in her throat. She took a liberty and moved even closer to lay her head in her grandmother’s lap. She waited, hardly daring to breathe. Would she pat her shoulder? Would she stroke her hair with her old, gnarled fingers? When she finally felt the light touch she almost fainted. And then there was another touch to her shoulder. She grew light-headed with relief. They loved her. If only she could hug them. Squeeze them close until they returned the feeling. She accepted that it was not their way. Using her hands, she pushed herself upright and bowed low.

  Should she leave the picture of her mother? It was the only thing in her life that she treasured. She bit down on her lip as she withdrew the little oval picture from her pocket and held it out. She was surprised when her grandfather, instead of her grandmother, reached for it. “Suki.”

  “Yes, Suki, Grandfather. My mother.”

  The old man nodded. With a long bony finger, the old man touched his wife’s arm. She got up and tottered over to a low wooden chest. She bent down and opened it. When she returned to her little chair, she held out her hand. Yoko looked down to see a seashell comb. Clearly she was meant to take it.

  “It was Suki’s,” the old lady said.

  The picture for the comb. Yoko wanted to scream, no, no, I want the picture but she didn’t. Instead she fixed the comb in her hair and smiled. The aged ones nodded and then motioned to the door. She was to leave.

  It was all Yoko could do not to cry. “I will not say good-bye for I will come back soon. I will. I promise.” She waited a heartbeat to see if there was a response but there wasn’t. She closed the door softly behind her.

  Outside in the cool afternoon sunshine, Yoko swiped at her eyes. She straightened her shoulders and marched over to the car. She heard a dog bark, saw a bird swoop down to scratch in the gravel. She noticed but she paid it no mind. She took a few moments to stare at the little farmhouse, wishing for a camera. It didn’t matter; she committed everything to memory. She turned to Annie, her eyes glistening.

  “What is it, little one?”

  “When it’s all over, when I have avenged my mother, I will come back here for a period of time. I will plant a garden with flowers and vegetables. I’ll clean the house, especially the windows, so my grandparents can see the garden. I may even plant some cherry blossom trees. Big ones in full leaf. I’ll cook good, nourishing food for them, make them tea and try to wean them off the opium pipes. I want to be a good granddaughter. I will shower them with love and kindness for all they have been forced to endure. That man will pay for all of this. Will you help me, Annie? Will you see that he pays for my grandparents’ last days?”

  “As Kathryn would say, absolutely, and you can take that to the bank.”

  Yoko smiled through her tears. She turned for one last look. She waved even though she knew the old ones couldn’t see her.

  She would return.

  Jack Emery propped his feet on his desk, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He knew he should go home but he was mentally whipped, tired beyond tired. He needed to get his second wind before starting for home. Now, if Nikki were at the house, he would have crawled all the way to Georgetown no matter how tired he felt.

  He was up-to-date, though, where the Ladies of Pinewood were concerned. He now knew that Myra and Charles were aware of his silent membership in their little society. The fact that they were okay with it boggled his mind. Who knew?

  Jack’s cell phone rang. He debated not answering it but the thought that it might be Nikki forced him to reach for the cell on his desk. He snorted when he saw the number that was displayed on the little window.

  “Yeah, Harry. How did things go in the trials? Did you wipe up the floor with all that fancy footwork and kicking?” Like he really cared. “Harry, Harry, get a grip. How the hell would I know where your ladylove is? Maybe she took a vacation if the shop is closed. I’m sure she’ll return your calls. You called thirteen times! What did I tell you about being overeager?”

  Sometimes he really hated all the lying he’d had to do since he got involved with the ladies out in Pinewood. Sometimes.

  “Listen, Harry, I’m half out the door. It’s been a long day and not one minute of it was good. Will you stop that? Her dead body is not going to show up in our morgue. Good night, Harry.”

  Jack took the elevator to the first floor, crossed the lobby, waved or called good night to several people and walked outside to find that it was snowing heavily. He slid all over the place on the way to his car in the lot, and his Brooks Brothers loafers, his favorite pair of shoes, were sodden. He cursed and grumbled under his breath as he cleared the snow off his windshield. His hands were cold and numb by the time he got to the back window. Now he was really in a foul mood. All the way home he thought about a hot shower and a cozy fire with a couple of beers and some leftover Chinese food.

  As he crept along the snow-filled road, Jack tried to shift his thoughts into the neutral zone. It wasn’t the snow that had him in a foul mood. It was something else he really didn’t want to think about but knew he had to. He knew Charles Martin had a long arm and entry into some very high places but until today he had no idea how powerful the quiet, unassuming man really was. At the eleventh hour the fibbies called and cancelled his ten o’clock meeting and actually apologized for any inconvenience. Then at 12:30 some chick with a sexy voice called from the DOJ and did the same thing. His boss had looked at him suspiciously but hadn’t said a word.

  It was snowing harder, drifting in places. Normally, he liked snow, especially a good snowstorm, but tonight Jack was relieved when he rounded the corner and found a parking space one door up from Nikki’s house. He looked at his gas gauge. Shit, he was on E for empty. Oh, well, he’d worry about that in the morning. He was out of the car and in the house within seconds. He started to strip down the minute he locked the door behind him and set the alarm. He was down to his underwear when he reached the living room, where he threw some logs in the fireplace and struck a match. He turned the heat to eighty and galloped up the stairs. He heard the phone ring but he ignored it.

  Thirty minutes later, Jack was heating the leftover Chinese food, wearing flannel pajamas with tiny red hearts all over them, a gift from Nikki. He was glad there was no one to see him.

  He was halfway through his food, slouched into the corner of the couch, when he remembered hearing the phone ringing when he’d first gotten home. He reached behind him for the portable phone and looked at the caller ID. Mark Lane. Contortio
nist that he was, he managed to stretch behind him to replace the phone and not spill the food on his plate. The phone rang in his hand before he let it go. Startled, he dropped the plate and watched his shrimp chow mein splatter on the floor. Shit!

  “Yeah,” he barked irritably.

  “It’s me, Jack,” Mark Lane said. “Just calling to make sure you got home okay. How’d it go today with the fibbies and the DOJ?”

  “They both called and cancelled. Even apologized. I can’t figure it out. You want to make some calls, Mark, to some of your old buddies in the Hoover Building, maybe get a bead on all of this? I can’t make any sense of it. Robinson made it all sound like a slam dunk when I talked to him yesterday. He was so damn cocky, I had the feeling they were going to lock me up and throw away the key. Hell, you were there, you heard him. Now this.”

  “They apologized? Jack, the FBI does not apologize. Never, as in never. I think the Department of Justice operates under the same policy. Somebody pretty powerful must have intervened on your behalf. I can’t think of any other explanation. You said yourself Robinson had no hard proof. It was just his and Maggie’s side of it. I’ll make some calls but don’t get your hopes up. The guys I know aren’t players, just field agents who try to keep their noses clean and not get involved in bureau politics. What do you think happened?”

  “Don’t know, Mark. It was a relief, I can tell you that. I wasn’t looking forward to a debate with the fibbies. With the exception of you, they’re all hard asses. Those guys at the DOJ are just as bad. Think about it, Mark. If Ted has the National Security Advisor on his side, they should have dragged me kicking and screaming to the Hoover Building. Maybe Ted was just blowing smoke but I had the feeling he had some kind of backup and it’s got to be the ex–National Security Advisor.”