“Don't take it so hard.” Reiko said to him. “The young ones want their turn too.” But he felt disgraced by it, as he did by everything else that had happened, and she didn't know what to do to soothe his wounds anymore. He was quieter than he used to be, and so easily discouraged.
But she said nothing about her worries to Hiroko as they worked side by side in the infirmary. Hiroko was learning many things, and she was beaming on the Monday after Thanksgiving. She had finally heard from Peter. The letter had taken weeks to arrive, and had been blackened by censors at both ends. She had no idea what he'd told her, not all of it anyway. All she knew was that he was in Oran when he wrote, and had been fighting Rommel. He said he missed her terribly. And he said he'd been getting her letters. His letters had been forwarded to Tule Lake from Tanforan, and she had already written him long since with her new address, but he obviously hadn't gotten it yet. She smiled for days after she got the letter, and worked twice as hard for Reiko.
There was a terrible rash of influenza again in the first week of December, when the temperatures went down below zero.
There were several cases of pneumonia too, and two old people died, which depressed Hiroko. She had tried so hard to keep them alive, reading to them in Japanese, bathing them, keeping them warm and telling them stories. But it had been hopeless. And she was even more upset when a little girl was brought in, one of Tami's friends, also in extremis.
The doctors were sure she wouldn't live the night, but Hiroko sat with her tirelessly and refused to go home. For Hiroko, it was almost as if it had been Tami. And Reiko watched her struggling to keep the child alive, as the little girl's mother sat by her side and wept. Hiroko worked with her incessantly for three days, and then finally the fever broke, and the doctors said she would recover.
Hiroko almost swooned when she heard the news. She was so tired she could barely stand up. She hadn't even left the child to go and eat. Reiko had brought her food from the mess hall. But she had saved the little girl, she had done what they couldn't, without medicine or a hospital. She had done it with love and determination. And the child's mother thanked her again, as Hiroko smiled and left the infirmary. She took two steps out the door, with her apron over her arm, and as she looked up at the winter sky, everything swirled slowly around her, and she fainted.
An old woman across the road saw her go down, and watched for a moment to see if she'd just fallen. But she lay still on the ground and there was no movement at all as the old woman hurried over. She looked at her quickly and hurried inside to call a doctor. Reiko was still there and she ran outside to see what had happened, and Hiroko lay there, still and gray and unconscious.
A doctor came outside as Reiko called, and two of the nurses. He took her pulse, and opened her eyes to look at her pupils, but she didn't even stir. She was totally immobile as they carried her inside, and Tami's little friend started to cry when she saw her.
“Is she dead? Did she die?” the little girl cried. She had been so alive only a few minutes before, although everyone could see she was very tired. But the little girl's mother was quick to reassure her, telling her Hiroko was just sleeping.
The doctor carried her himself into a partitioned area, concealed by blankets, and took her pulse again. He didn't like what he was seeing. She was barely breathing.
“What's wrong?” Reiko breathed, no longer the nurse, but more the mother.
“I'm not sure yet,” he said honestly in English. He was sansei, second-generation American, and had gone to Stanford. He could have gone East to relatives when the voluntary order for evacuation came, but he hadn't. And in the end, he had decided to stay here to help his people. “Her blood pressure is very low, and she's hardly breathing.” He turned to look at Reiko over his shoulder. “Has this ever happened to her before?”
“Not that I know of.”
Her color was terrible, and they were using smelling salts to no avail. If anything, she was getting worse. Reiko wondered if it was influenza of some kind, or perhaps polio. Scarlet fever … she couldn't imagine what had struck her. And she wasn't hot, she was cold, as though her circulation were slowing to a disastrous level.
The doctor was slapping her then, shaking her gently, and he glanced at the nurse next to him and gave a rapid order. “Take her clothes off!” He wanted to see her abdomen and her chest, wanted to know why she wasn't breathing. And Reiko worked hurriedly with the other two girls to hastily unbutton the heavy wool dress she wore. It was long and loose and flowing and the tiny buttons down the front seemed to take forever. There was even a small tearing sound as the doctor pushed the dress aside, and hastily pulled her slip up, and then they saw it. She was bound from her breasts to her thighs with long strips of bandaging, tied so tightly that they were literally stopping her circulation. “Good lord, what's she done to herself?” He had no idea what the bandages were for, he'd never seen them, and wondered what she had concealed, but Reiko knew. She hadn't seen them in years. But she knew instantly as he rapidly cut through them. And almost as she did, they could see her flesh come alive again, and her color improve. She had tied them so tightly, she had impaired not only her circulation, but her breathing.
She still hadn't moved, but as he removed the endless circle of bandages, her body grew beneath his hands, and even he understood what she had done, although he'd never seen it.
“The poor kid,” he said, glancing up at Reiko and then back at Hiroko again. She had bound herself to within an inch of her life, and her baby's. The moment the bandages fell away from her, they could see that she was very pregnant. It had been a crazy thing to do, but her grandmother had told her about it, and her mother had done it when she was pregnant with her, and with Yuji. And she hadn't wanted anyone to know about the baby, not even Peter. She had never told him. She had only discovered it after he left, in June. And she hadn't been certain till July. As close as she could guess, the baby was due at the end of February, or in early March. She was six months pregnant.
It was fully another five minutes before she stirred, as Reiko and the other nurse gently massaged her skin, and felt the baby give a resounding kick in protest. It was going to be a lot happier now without the restraints its mother had put on it, but Reiko's mind was racing as she watched her. She couldn't imagine when, or how, she had done this. They had been at the assembly center since April, and the only man she'd ever seen her with was Peter. And surely, he wouldn't have been foolish enough to do this. But someone had. And Hiroko was going to have a baby.
After a few more minutes, she opened her eyes and looked at them, feeling very far away and a little groggy. She still hadn't realized that they had opened her dress, or cut her bindings. Reiko had covered her discreetly with a blanket, and the doctor looked down at her with a gentle look of disapproval.
“That was a pretty silly thing to do,” he said, taking her hand and holding if as he looked at her.
“I know.” She smiled. “But I didn't want to leave her. I thought that if I stayed with her, I could help her.” She thought he was talking about the patient she hadn't left for a moment in three days.
“I didn't mean her, I meant you…. That's a pretty mean thing you've been doing to your baby. I'm surprised he let you get away with it. You almost strangled both of you just now.” She hadn't removed the binding in days, and he wondered if the baby had grown since she'd been home, and so the bindings tightened until she finally fainted. He wondered how she could have borne it. “I don't want you doing that again,” he said firmly, and Hiroko turned her face away as she blushed deeply, and he nodded at Reiko. “I'm going to leave you with your aunt right now. But I don't want to see you working this hard for a while. You've got someone else to think about, Hiroko.” He patted her arm and spoke softly to her cousin. “Keep her in bed today and tomorrow. She can come back to work after that. She'll be fine.” He smiled, and then he left the little cubicle with the other two nurses. Hiroko was alone with her cousin. She turned her face slowly to face her, and she was crying.
>
“I'm so sorry, Aunt Rei.” Not about the binding, but that she was pregnant. “I'm so sorry.” She had disgraced all of them, and yet she had wanted this so badly, and she still did. No matter how great the disgrace, she wanted Peter's baby.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I couldn't.” There was so much she couldn't tell them, and she didn't want to get Peter in trouble. She thought maybe if she'd told them, they wouldn't let her see him again. Or worse, if someone found out and they told the FBI, he might be punished. She had imagined all kinds of terrors.
Reiko hesitated for only a moment before she asked the next question. “It's Peter's, isn't it?” But Hiroko wouldn't answer her, for all the same reasons. She was afraid for him, and even for their baby. What if they took it away after it was born? But they wouldn't. A Japanese ancestor, in any degree, was cause for internment. This baby would be a prisoner, just as she was. No one would take it from her. It was her only comfort. “Why won't you tell me?” Reiko asked.
“I can't tell you, Aunt Rei,” she said softly, determined to protect him, no matter what it cost her. And in a way she was protecting Reiko too, by not confirming it to her. And Reiko knew this and didn't press her again, but she knew in her heart it was Peter's.
She helped Hiroko button her dress again, and stand up, when she finally thought she could, although she almost swooned again. But Reiko made her sit down and brought her a glass of water, and she threw away the vicious bindings.
“Don't you ever do that again!” she scolded her. “Even my mother didn't do that, and she was pretty old-fashioned.” But she smiled at her then anyway. What a difficult secret she had kept for all this time, all alone, even in prison. She wondered if Peter knew, but even if he did, there was nothing he could do now to help her.
They walked slowly back to their little room, arm in arm, and Reiko talked to her soothingly about not working too hard, eating as best she could, and taking care of herself and the baby. But as she looked at her, she was amazed to realize how pregnant she looked. In a single moment, without the bindings she had worn, Hiroko's stomach looked enormous. It was in sharp contrast to her tiny frame, and Reiko suddenly worried that she might have trouble giving birth. And this was no place to have medical problems or complications.
They walked quietly inside, and Hiroko went to He down. Takeo looked up as they came in. He had just finished making a piece of furniture he was particularly pleased with, and that afternoon he was going to work in the mess hall. He planned to start teaching at the school soon. But when he saw Hiroko, his mouth almost fell open, and he managed not to say anything until a few minutes later when he walked back outside with Reiko.
“Have I missed something here? Am I completely blind?” He looked totally bemused. “The last time I saw her, two days ago, she was quite normal. Now she comes back looking about six or seven months pregnant, if memory serves me correctly. What exactly are you doing at that infirmary? Making miracles, or have I lost my mind here?”
“No, not exactly.” Reiko smiled ruefully, accepting a cigarette from him. It was so good to have him back again, to share things with him, and have someone to talk to. No matter how disillusioned he was, he was the man she had loved for twenty years, her best friend, her partner. She was sad for Hiroko that she couldn't share the same relationship with the baby's father. “She's been hiding this from us, Tak,” Reiko explained, still unable to believe what the girl had been doing to herself. “She was so tightly bound, she almost strangled herself. God only knows what that does to the baby. She was completely unconscious, and we had no idea why until we undressed her. She had almost stopped breathing.”
“Poor kid. I suppose I can guess who the father is, or can I? Have I missed something?” Maybe there had been someone else, she was so discreet there was no knowing, but Reiko didn't think so.
“It must be Peter,” she agreed, “but she won't tell me. I think she's afraid to. Maybe she's afraid they'll do something to him, or take the baby away. Or maybe she's protecting us. I don't know.”
“Do you suppose he knows?” Tak smoked his cigarette thoughtfully. It was one of the few pleasures he still had there.
“I have no idea, but somehow I doubt it. I can't imagine she'd dare to write it to him, even if she wanted to. Not if she's afraid even to tell us.” And then she thought of something else that concerned her. This was not an easy situation, but most of all not for Hiroko. “What do you think we should say to the children?”
“There's not much we can say. She's having a baby, and we love her, and we'll love the baby. And that's that,” he said matter-of-factly.
Reiko smiled at him, faintly amused by the simplicity of the statement. “I'll remind you of that if this ever happens to Sally.”
“That's different.” He laughed and shook his head, looking at his wife with appreciation and affection. She always saw the humor in things, and helped him to. He loved that and many things about her, along with her good nature. “If it were Sally, I'd kill her. Hiroko's not my daughter.” And then he thought about it. “Poor kid. She's been through an awful lot, and now this. I guess that's why she was always so sick to her stomach at Tanforan. I sure never suspected this.”
“Neither did I,” Reiko admitted, and then she looked at her husband again. “Do you suppose he'll marry her, if it's his?”
But Takeo was quick to answer. “He would have anyway, Rei. He's crazy about her. And it probably is his. It's funny, I noticed something different about them there. They used to go on those long walks every afternoon, but I couldn't imagine they'd get themselves into trouble. But they were always so close, so bound to each other, the way married people are. I'm surprised he didn't marry her before he left.”
“I don't think she wanted to, without her father's consent.” Reiko guessed correctly, as Hiroko walked slowly out of the house and stood before them.
“I'm so sorry,” she said, her head bowed, aching at having brought shame on them. She had somehow thought that she could keep it a secret forever, which was childish.
“We love you,” Reiko said, and put an arm around her, and then she smiled as she looked down at her tummy. It reminded her of her own children when they were born. It had been a good time for her and Tak. She was only sorry for Hiroko that this wouldn't be easy, and she had only them, and not a husband.
“When is it coming?” Takeo asked quietly, turning to look at her as she blushed again. She was still wrestling with the embarrassment and at the same time she was proud, and happy that she had Peter's baby.
“In February,” she answered softly, “perhaps March.”
He nodded then, looking up at the sky, thinking of many things, his own life, his marriage, his children …and Peter. And then he smiled at her, and put an arm around her too. “That's a good time to have a baby. It'll be spring then … a new beginning, a new life…. Maybe a new world for all of us by then.” “Thank you, Uncle Tak,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek, as she closed her eyes and thought of Peter, and prayed he would still be safe then.
Chapter 14
THE CHILDREN'S reactions to Hiroko's pregnancy were mixed. Tami was thrilled, Ken was surprised and protective of her, and Sally was less than sympathetic. She was annoyed that everyone was suddenly being so solicitous of her, in spite of what she'd done, and she had more than one argument about it with her mother.
“If I had done that, you and Daddy would have killed me.”
Reiko smiled, remembering what Tak had said along just those lines, and agreed with her. “Probably. But this is a little different. She's nineteen years old, almost twenty, she's in a different situation, and she's not our daughter.”
“It's still disgusting anyway, that everyone is acting like she's the Virgin Mary waiting for baby Jesus.”
“Oh, for heaven's sake, Sally, don't be so unkind to her. The poor thing is all alone, and this is a terrible situation for any girl to be in.”
“Does she even know who the father is?” S
ally asked rudely, and her mother glowered at her.
“We're not discussing that. All I'm saying is that we need to be nice to her, and help her take care of the baby.”
“Well, don't count on me to baby-sit. Just think of what my friends will say.” She was mortified, but Reiko was not sorry for her. It had happened to plenty of other girls over the years, and it was not up to Sally to be throwing stones at her cousin.
“A lot will depend on how you explain it to them,” her mother said firmly.
“I don't need to, Mom, everyone can see it.”
They did, but very few people commented on it. In the difficult life they had led, it almost went unnoticed. And to some, they thought it provided a sign of hope and new life, and they thought she was lucky. No one ostracized her, or said anything. A few asked when the baby was due, but most people said nothing. And absolutely no one inquired about the father.
Reiko and Tak asked her a few more times, but she refused to confirm their suspicions, or even say anything about it. And in the month of December, she had several more letters from Peter. He was still in North Africa, and he was well. He had absolutely no idea what was happening to Hiroko, and his letters were full of declarations of love for her, as hers were to him. She gave him news of Reiko and Tak, and the kids, and said fairly little about the camp, and nothing at all about the baby. He had asked for a photograph of her, but she had none with her, other than the one he had given her of both of them, and no one in camp was allowed to have a camera, so it was easy to ignore his requests for pictures.
The anniversary of Pearl Harbor was a quiet day for all of them, except at Manzanar, where they later heard that tempers had run high and there had been a riot over mess hall administration. Two were killed and ten were wounded, and it sobered everyone at Tule Lake even further. And the guards became suddenly more restrictive.
After that, everyone turned their sights toward Christmas. Takeo was teaching in the high school by then, and Reiko was busy at the infirmary helping the few doctors tend to colds and the occasional appendectomy, and influenza. And Hiroko had gone back to work after two days of rest and she felt fine now. And every night, she and Tak had a secret project. He was helping her make a dollhouse for Tami, he had made the frame, and was making the furniture, and Hiroko was making all the wall decorations, the rugs, and curtains and tiny paintings. In some ways, although it wasn't as expensively made, it was even more elaborate than her old one. And they had been very creative about substituting one thing for another.
Silent Honor Page 23