by Jan Morrill
No such luck. Her stare was insistent, kinda like a headache that wouldn’t go away.
“Son, what do ‘cool’ mean?”
Shit. “Oh, you know, Momma.” How could he tell her just enough to satisfy her, without bringing on a bunch of questions? “He’s okay. Been kind of hard to get to know but we deal with each other just fine. I know he got a momma and a sis—”
A loud crash came from Carter’s direction. Terrence jumped up from his seat.
Missy hid behind Mama and Patty grabbed her hand.
Carter was standing and yelling, his chair flat on the floor. “When are you ever gonna understand, Ma. I had to do it!”
The guards grabbed him and pulled him toward the door.
But he kept yelling at his momma. “Maybe if you hadn’t of just sat around drunk all the time …” The door slammed, and his words muffled as he was shoved down the hall. “And maybe if you hadn’t of ignored what was happening to Jenny right in front of your damn eyes, I wouldn’t of had to …”
Quiet held the room like a clutched fist, until slowly, whispers, scooting chairs, and at last, the full hum of activity returned. Carter had gone back to his cell, and the people in the room had gone on with their lives.
But not Terrence. He stared at the door. Felt Momma’s stare on him.
Carter had plenty of secrets yet to be discovered.
Chapter 48
Sachi
Thanksgiving Day, 1942
Relieved and angry at once, Sachi scolded Nobu, “I thought you’d never get back.”
She had been pacing the floor for almost half an hour, worried he wouldn’t return before Jubie and her family arrived with the food. If he didn’t get there before Jubie, he’d miss their big surprise. Not to mention she’d need his moral support if Mama got angry.
The way Mama had been acting lately, who knew how she might react to Jubie’s family arriving with Thanksgiving dinner.
Nobu rolled his eyes and walked inside, holding his bulging jacket.
“What do you have in there?” she asked, poking him.
He scowled and pulled away. “It’s just wood for the fire. Now leave me alone. Don’t you have something better to do than to bug me?” He knelt beside the stove and pulled the pieces of scrap lumber from his jacket.
She leaned over his shoulder. “What kind of wood is that?”
Her question drew Mama’s attention. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s just scrap lumber. Garbage. Nobody’s going to use it, so I figured we might as well burn it.”
“Nobu! You know what they said about taking any of the building supplies. What if—”
Someone knocked at the door.
Mama gasped. “See? They have come after you!”
Sachi peeked out the curtain, then skipped to the door. “No, it’s okay, Mama.” She smiled and nodded. “It’s a surprise! My friends have brought Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Oh, Sachiko,” Mama said, rushing to the mirror. She hastily smoothed her hair into place.
Sachi opened the door. Sunlight shone into the room from behind three figures making the forms of Jubie, her mother, and Auntie Bess even darker.
Nervous excitement swelled inside as Sachi rose up on her toes. “Come in. Come in,” she said, swinging her arm toward the inside. She watched for Mama’s reaction, her smile quivering. “Mama, this is my friend, Jubie Lee, her mama, Mrs. Franklin, and her Auntie Bess.” Her hand trembled as she pointed to each. “Jubie and I planned this surprise.”
There, at last. A tiny smile. Better than nothing. Mama bowed slightly, wiping her hands on her dress. “How do you do?” Her voice was too cool. Too calm. “I am Mrs. Kimura, and this is my son, Nobu.”
Nobu was kneeling on the floor, a piece of wood in-hand, his mouth agape.
Everyone froze in a tense silence. Cold air blew leaves through the open door. Sachi caught a whiff of the food they carried, and for a tiny moment it comforted her.
Finally, Nobu stood and walked toward them. “Please, come in. Let me take that for you,” he said, taking a large pot from Jubie’s mother. “Sachi, close the door.”
She obeyed her brother, then looked to Jubie for reassurance. They shrugged at each other.
Mama scurried around, trying to make room for all of the food. “I am so sorry I am not better prepared.” She shot a dart of anger at Sachi. “But nobody told me you were coming.”
Auntie Bess set her pan on the table. “Don’t you worry yourself none, Mrs. Kimura. Our girls have been so excited planning this surprise for you.” She chuckled and put her arm around Jubie. “They just precious little angels for thinking of something so nice.”
Sachi lifted the lid from one of the pans. Steam rose, and she inhaled. Turkey gravy. “Oh, Mrs. Franklin, Auntie Bess. Everything smells so good.” She waved the scents in Mama’s direction. Maybe the aroma would cheer her up. “Don’t you think so, Mama?”
She didn’t look at Sachi, but replied. “It is very nice.”
You could never say Mama wasn’t polite. So courteous, so gracious. So cold. Why couldn’t she be thankful for friends willing to share home cooking? Even Nobu looked uncomfortable. Worse, she could tell by the strange silence and crossed arms, it was making Jubie and her family uncomfortable, too. Everybody stared at anything, as long as they didn’t have to look at each other.
Auntie Bess slapped her hands together. “Okay. We got us some turkey and some stuffing.” Her round body waddled around the table as she lifted lids from the pots and pans. She pulled a jar from the bag Jubie had carried in. “And let’s see here. Some pickled okra. That’s special from Jubie, just for you, sugar.” A wink for Sachi. Then, with great fanfare, she lifted a pie pan and removed the cover. “And last, but surely not least, we got us some sweet potato pie!”
Jubie whispered to Sachi. “Don’t you got something, too?”
Sachi’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes. And I made rice. Jubie said she has never had rice for Thanksgiving before.” She picked up a dish towel, and lifted a pot from the wood stove. “It doesn’t smell nearly as good as what you brought, though.”
Nobu leaned against the wall. Arms folded across his chest, he rolled his eyes.
She dropped the pan on the stove. This was all a mistake. Nothing would pull Mama and Nobu out of their sour moods.
Auntie Bess pulled Sachi into her warm, soft body. She smelled like roses and Sachi wanted to linger in her embrace.
“Sugar baby, your rice smells mighty fine to me,” she said, pulling her tighter. Then she let go and clapped her hands again. “Reckon we best eat ’fore it all gets cold.”
Mrs. Franklin spoke. “Mrs. Kimura, you got some plates?”
“Of course.” She reached onto a shelf for a stack of dishes. “Nobu, would you get the cups and silverware?”
Sachi raised her hand. “I can help, too.”
Mama set the dishes on the table. “No, Sachi. You have done enough. Just entertain your guests.”
Your guests? But they’re our guests.
Sachi turned away when she felt tears welling.
There wasn’t much she could hide from Jubie. Her friend wiggled her finger, an invitation to stand next to her.
She pulled Sachi behind Auntie Bess’s gigantic flowered skirt. “You okay?”
Sachi shrugged. “We shouldn’t have planned this surprise. I can tell Mama’s not happy about it.”
“Yeah, I can see that, too.” Jubie flashed a sassy smile and put her hands on her skinny hips. “But oh, like she woulda been happier just sittin’ here by herself today?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“No. She’d just been mopin’ around, remembering all them other Thankgivings when she had herself some good food and good friends.” She put her arm around Sachi’s shoulder. “All you done was try to bring her some of them good friends and good food. You done the right thing.”
Sachi smiled. “We did the right thing. I couldn’t have done it without you and your fam
ily.”
“Look like we ready to eat,” said Auntie Bess, turning toward the girls. “You two hungry?”
“Yes ma’am!” replied Jubie.
With all the good smells that filled the room, Sachi knew she should be hungry. But every time she began to feel hunger pangs, the look in Mama’s eyes scared them away and left a sick feeling instead. She sure was in trouble. Later.
Mama glanced around, wringing her hands. “I must apologize again. I do not have enough chairs for everyone.”
“Jubie and I can sit on the floor. There’s plenty of room, right over there in that corner.” Besides, the corner was out of the line of Mama’s glare.
Mrs. Franklin took Mama’s hands in hers. “Don’t you fret none about it. Believe you me, we been to plenty of family gatherings where we all stood around and ate.”
Jubie filled her plate first. Sachi picked a little of this, a little of that, just to be polite.
“Ain’t you gonna eat no more than that? I thought you couldn’t wait for Thankgiving. Said you was gonna fill-up with turkey and stuffing,” Jubie declared.
Sachi watched Jubie eat and whispered, “I just know I’m in trouble. I wanted your mama and my mama to get to know each other. But I can tell by the look in Mama’s eyes—she’s not happy about this surprise.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the right time.” Jubie bit her drumstick. “Tell you what. I’ll save you some of this food for you to eat when you feel more like it, ’kay?”
If nothing else went right today, at least Sachi had Jubie to be thankful for.
A knock at the door startled her. She put her plate on the floor and gawked at Jubie. “Now what?” She tried to reassure Mama. “Don’t worry. It’s not another surprise. Want me to get it?”
“I’ll get it,” said Nobu and made his way through the crowded room to answer the door. Adrenaline surged when he saw the badge on the man's shirt. Internal police. “Can I help you?” Nobu asked. Still holding the plate in his hand, he stepped outside.
The man attempted to peer around him. “Someone reported seeing a boy about your age taking some scrap wood from the administration building,” he said. “We’re just asking around. You know anything about that?”
Mama made her way to the door. “What is it?” she asked.
“It’s nothing, Mama. Go back inside.” He shut the door.
Sachi scooted toward the door and strained to hear the conversation outside. All she could hear was Nobu saying, “Sorry.” Then, something about work detail. What if they took him away? Then she’d have to face Mama alone after Jubie left.
Mama sat in a chair across the room and stared at the door, her food growing cold on the plate she held on her lap.
Sachi wanted this day to be over, even wanted Jubie and her family to go home so the embarrassing silence would end. But another part of her wanted them to stay. As long as she had guests, she wouldn’t get in trouble. Mama would never unleash her anger or talk about losing face in front of them. Then again, maybe Mama’s silent, cold stare was worse than her angry words.
Nobu came back inside and tossed his plate on the table, causing some of his food to spill.
Mama went to him and whispered something.
Sachi tried to read her lips.
“Is everything okay?” she seemed to say.
He didn’t hide his frustrated reply. “Do you mind if we discuss this later?” He stormed to the chair he’d been sitting in before the soldier came to the door.
Sachi’s stomach turned queasy at the sight of her brother sitting in that chair, arms crossed and leg bouncing nervously. She closed her eyes.
Go away, world.
“Mmm-mmm. That sure was some good food,” Auntie Bess said, rising from her seat. “Sure is too bad we gotta be going. Jubie and me promised to take a sweet potato pie over to the preacher’s for dessert.”
Jubie raised an eyebrow and shrugged at Sachi.
Auntie Bess cleared her throat. “Don’t you remember, sugar? I guess it’s been a couple weeks ago now, we was standing in front of the church. I told Preacher we’d bring it by, share some dessert with him and his family for Thanksgiving.”
Jubie took one last bite of her drumstick before standing. “Oh, yeah. How could I forget?”
Mrs. Franklin smiled at Mama. “Why don’t you keep this food? We got plenty at home.”
“No, thank you,” Mama said. “We have no place to store it. Please take it with you.”
Auntie Bess began to match lids with pots and pans. “All right then. We gonna take the food, but we gonna leave that sweet potato pie for y’all to enjoy later.” She winked again at Sachi. “This little one say she ain’t never had no sweet potato pie. Ain’t that right, sugar?”
Sachi set her plate on the table, pretty certain she wouldn’t be getting dessert that night. She thanked Auntie Bess anyway.
Jubie, her mother, and Auntie Bess each picked up the items they’d carried in and made their way to the door.
Mrs. Franklin turned to Mama. “Thank you kindly for having us in your home today. Maybe sometime you and me could have coffee together.”
Mama bowed, and in her cool, proper manner, replied, “Thank you, but I drink tea. And thank you for bringing Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jubie asked.
Sachi had a feeling her scolding would include being grounded. She shrugged. “I hope so.”
Auntie Bess bent to kiss Sachi on the cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving, sugar. We’ll see you soon, ’kay?”
Sachi could tell by the look in Auntie’s eyes—she knew the kind of trouble Sachi was in.
Auntie Bess looked at Mama. “Such a sweet idea our girls had, bringing us all together on this day of thanks.” She stared upward, shaking her hands in prayer. “Lord, so much to be thankful for—even in these trying times, if you keep your eyes open.” She smiled warmly before walking out the door with Jubie and Mrs. Franklin.
All the Thanksgiving spirit whooshed out the door with them. She turned from the closed door, dreading the look in Mama’s eyes.
Mama glared at her. Rigid, her eyes expressed a kind of anger Sachi had never seen before. Her words came slow. Deliberate.
“Do you remember the color of the boy who killed your papa?”
Chapter 49
Nobu
Thanksgiving Day, 1942
Nobu had to admit—Sachi had really done it this time. When she opened the door to that colored family, he’d thought the same thing Mama had asked.
Do you remember the color of the boy who killed your papa?
Hearing it out loud, he realized how unreasonable, how irrational the thought—to hold the color of their skin against them. They’d carried a Thanksgiving meal to share. They didn’t even know Terrence Harris.
Poor Sachi. Standing alone in front of the door with confusion in her eyes and hurt written all over her body—slumped shoulders, eyes that could not face her own mother. How could Mama relate Papa’s memory to such a question?
But he’d asked the question, too. He just hadn’t spoken it out loud.
There was only hardness and anger in Mama’s face. No sympathy or appreciation at all for what Sachi had tried to do—bring a little happiness into the dark apartment, if only for a while.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—be caught in the middle of this one. He understood them both and would not choose sides. Besides, he had problems of his own to deal with.
He went to his room and pulled the curtain shut. Taking his journal from under his mattress, he flung himself onto the bed and watched the curtain sway as he gathered his thoughts.
Thanksgiving Day, 1942
How could a day be so good, yet so bad? Thanksgiving used to start with good smells and the busy activity of preparing for the holiday. But in camp, it started as any other day, much to the chagrin of Sachi. I saw from the start that she wanted the day to be special. Unfortunately, I did not know what she had planned, otherwise I would have stopped her.
This morning, I had to get out—had to leave the tension already brewing between Mama and Sachi. So, I used needing firewood as my chance to leave. I figured Kazu and I could spend part of the day together gathering kindling to take our minds off of what Thanksgiving used to be, what it couldn’t be in camp.
No such luck. He’d already promised to help his mother prepare their holiday meal. When I entered their home, the warmth and the smell of sweet potatoes might have made me believe we were no longer in camp, except for the sparseness of our surroundings. But Kazu and his mother seemed able to ignore that, seemed to have the ability to focus on what they did have. I wished it could be the same for me. For Mama.
There was nothing left for me to do but gather firewood, which meant going outside of the camp and into the woods.
That’s where the best part of my day happened.
I couldn’t believe it when I found Yuki gathering wood too. Okay, now there was something to be thankful for—the prettiest girl in camp, gathering wood in the same forest as me!
I’ve never felt the way I did when I was with her, like there was a strange energy between us—something that vibrated faster the closer I got to her. One minute, I wanted to touch her, hold her, the next, I backed away, unable to think of anything to say. I imagined what her body beneath her clothes looked like, imagined touching her soft skin. Then I scolded myself for those thoughts.
But the worst feeling was the jealousy! An awful feeling, wondering if other guys have the same thoughts of her.
When it was time to go, I hated leaving her, but at least I could look forward to seeing her again in a few days. I told her I’d help her gather wood again.
That was all before I came up with the brilliant idea to take some scrap lumber to burn. Stupid me, in all my lovesick wonder, forgot to get my own wood. I was desperate—saw no harm in taking a little scrap lumber. But someone saw me, and the internal police tracked me down, right in the middle of Sachi’s big surprise. As if the situation wasn’t already tense enough.