Her Redeeming Faith

by Carolyn Greene

  Following her gaze, Savannah looked down, appeared to realize what she’d done, and belatedly moved the veil behind her back.

  Ruthie’s jaw hurt. Probably from clenching her teeth. At least it diverted her attention from other, deeper hurts. “Thanks, but there’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”

  That was the part that hurt the worst. She could handle disappointments that came along in life as long as there was a plan, something she could do to make it right again. The day between learning that her stepfather was going back to New Jersey without her and receiving Sobo and Pop’s insistent invitation to come live with them had felt like a bottomless chasm.

  But the plan to move in with the generous couple—people she barely knew—had given her hope. A lifeline, just when she’d needed it most.

  For the past couple of weeks, she’d had such a lifeline with Gray. True, she had agreed not to try to coerce him into changing his mind, but her private plan had been to wait him out in hopes he would eventually see the calm assurance and the sense of peace he’d been missing without God in his life. But that lifeline had been steadily unraveling until, today, it had finally broken.

  So, she had to come up with a new plan. A plan to accept this new turn of events and trust that God would protect Gray and ultimately—perhaps even years from now—lead him back to church and the faith that had previously been such an important part of his life.

  The acceptance part was so hard, especially when it meant not having Gray in her life. So, she needed to come up with an additional plan. One that would fill the gaping void in her heart. Staying busy at work helped only to a point.

  “Actually, there is something you can do,” she told Savannah. “Let me know if any customers need me. I’m going over to Milk & Honey for some hot tea and to try to figure out what comes next.”

  Ruthie examined the menu while she mulled over her next move. Sobo always said that whenever you need something, give it away to someone else. Well, today she was sad, so the obvious solution would be to cheer up someone else.

  She started a list while waiting for Paisley to take her order. Help the homeless, as Paisley did? Follow Savannah’s lead and volunteer at the children’s adoption agency? Perhaps offer to help out at the animal shelter where Cali—Radar—had almost been sent? Or go visit Private Denton at the VA hospital?

  She drew a heavy line through the last possibility. Mainly because Denton might not be ready for visitors at this point, assuming he wanted any, but also because interacting with military veterans would remind her of the very person she was trying so hard not to think about.

  Paisley draped a bar towel over her shoulder and swaggered over to the table as if she were a bartender in an old Western movie. “What’s your poison, pardner?”

  Ruthie smiled, glad for her friend who always knew just how to lift her spirits. “Earl Grey,” she said. “Straight up.”

  Paisley returned a few minutes later and set the tea and a scone in front of her. Then she took a quick look around to see if anyone needed her before seating herself at the table. “I was so chuffed about you and Gray getting back together. I thought for sure it would work out this time.”

  Ruthie took a careful sip of the hot tea, then shook her head. “I should have known it wouldn’t work. Unequally yoked and all that,” she said, repeating the reason Gray had cited in his original breakup. “But I was so sure God intended for us to be together.”

  She still felt that the verse from the book of Jeremiah had been a message. Plans to give you hope and a future.

  Maybe she had misunderstood, and God had planned to give her hope and a future with someone else.

  The very thought made her stomach churn.

  “You’ll get through this,” Paisley assured her.

  Unfortunately, Ruthie had no idea how. Since her friend was in a listening mood, she poured her heart out, starting with her initial determination to give her relationship with Gray another go even though he was still adamantly set against the faith that was such an important part of her own life.

  “To make matters worse,” she continued, “today is the day of the birthday party for Mrs. Kagawa’s aunt. I’m going to have to tell Sobo that I accidentally sold her doll. It’ll break her heart.” Since she was already riding the pity train, she poured out the other piece that had been weighing at the back of her mind. “And after Mr. Denton gets his meds straightened out, I’ll have to say goodbye to Cali.”

  Although she knew Cali—rather, Radar—loved her owner and belonged with him despite his troubles, having to give up the sweet dog was the final straw that threatened to break her emotional back. Her eyes filled with tears of sadness and loss, and the sunshine that poured through the cafe window seemed to mock her with its good cheer. She shook out her napkin and dabbed her eyes.

  Paisley had rested a sympathetic hand on her arm, but her attention was focused beyond Ruthie on something outside the window. “Somebody’s running across the parking area.” The bell over the door jangled at the abrupt entry. “And I think she’s looking for you.”

  Ruthie turned in her seat and took in the well-dressed woman who paced the front of the shop and looked around frantically. The customer’s words tumbled out so fast it was hard to understand her, and she seemed very agitated.

  Mrs. Kagawa.

  “What now?” Ruthie muttered. Was the customer upset because she’d found a defect on the doll? That would be just her luck.

  Determined not to follow Gray’s lead, she pushed the thought of luck away from her mind. Whatever was going on, good or bad, she asked that God use the situation in a way that would bless them and honor Him.

  Mrs. Kagawa noticed her and spun in her direction, and she covered the distance with amazing quickness.

  Ruthie rose to her feet and mentally braced herself for whatever was to come. She didn’t know what was going on, but she had a sickening feeling she was about to be hit with more bad news.

  Speaking even faster than before, Mrs. Kagawa stopped at the table and tumbled the words out in what sounded like a haphazard fashion. Although Ruthie couldn’t make out exactly what the problem was, there was no question the woman was in supreme distress.

  Paisley stood and pulled out a chair for their visitor. “Slow down. Take a breath,” she urged. “Have some tea.”

  “No time,” said Mrs. Kagawa. “Obasan open present and see doll. Now she cry, and she cry more. No stopping. She only say, ‘Whose doll?’ I don’t know what is matter.”

  Ruthie didn’t know whether to comfort her or probe for answers. She finally settled on asking a couple questions of her own. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked softly. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You come,” Mrs. Kagawa said, holding out a hand for her to follow. “You tell her about doll. She stop cry.” She reached for Ruthie and tugged at her sleeve. “Come, quick-quick.”

  Until Gray had come into the shop looking for the doll less than a month ago, she had never paid much attention to it where it had sat on a shelf at the Bristows’ house.

  For that reason, she doubted she could answer the aunt’s questions about it, nor could she offer any comfort that the aunt’s own family hadn’t already attempted to provide.

  Gray knew more about the doll than she did. Maybe he could help shed light on this strange turn of events. On the way out, she reached for her cell phone and hit the speed-dial button that connected her to Gray.

  “Meet me at Mrs. Kagawa’s house. Something’s going on with the doll.”

  The inside of the Kagawa house was even more beautiful than the outside. The minimalist decor combined clean Japanese lines with comfortable American furniture that made Ruthie feel both welcomed and a little in awe of the careful styling.

  At the front of the room, an older woman took the place of honor in a plush wingback chair that nearly swallowed her tiny frame. The matriarch’s dark hair, soft eyes, and amber skin were echoed in the family members clustered around the room.
A couple of children stared openly at Ruthie.

  The aunt’s face was splotchy from crying, and tears glistened on her lashes. In her lap sat two identical dolls, one dressed in royal blue and the other—Sobo’s—in red.

  Mrs. Kagawa introduced her aunt as Tomiko Kishimoto and explained that she had purchased Sobo’s doll because it was a perfect match to the one Tomiko already owned. She said something in Japanese to her aunt, and the elderly woman teared up again. Clearly confounded by the predicament, Mrs. Kagawa turned to Ruthie, her expression one of helpless frustration.

  “See? She crying.”

  Ruthie went to the aunt and offered a bow of respect. “Kon’nichiwa.” Thank goodness she remembered the basic greetings Sobo had taught her more than ten years ago. “Watashi no namae wa Ruthie desu.”

  The woman looked at her and politely dipped her head.

  Taking the gesture as one of acceptance, she knelt to interact with the woman at her level.

  Mrs. Kishimoto said something in Japanese, but her speech was much too fast and too advanced for Ruthie to follow. She turned to Mrs. Kagawa in a silent request for her to translate, but the elderly aunt grabbed her arm and gripped it tightly.

  Taken by surprise, she could only marvel that someone so tiny could clamp on so hard.

  One of the children, a boy about three or four years old, sidled closer to Ruthie. Slowly, almost reverently, he lifted a hand and touched her hair so lightly she barely felt it.

  Mrs. Kagawa spoke to the boy in Japanese, her face and tone stern, and he stepped away. To Ruthie she said, “Oba wants to know where you found the doll.”

  Ruthie directed her answer to the aunt. To reply in Japanese was beyond her ability, so she mimed in conjunction with her response. Pointing a finger at her own chest, she said, “My sobo.”

  Apparently surprised at her use of the Japanese word for her relative, the woman jerked her gaze to Ruthie’s red hair.

  Understanding the matron’s confusion over a Japanese woman having produced a granddaughter with red hair and fair skin, she quickly explained, “Sobo is my honorary grandmother. I love her the same.”

  Mrs. Kagawa translated. The aunt leaned forward in the chair and gently touched Ruthie’s face.

  Surprised by the unexpected gesture, Ruthie sat and accepted what could only be described as a loving touch. She became aware of the door opening and someone entering the room. Gray must have arrived. If her chin hadn’t been so carefully cradled in the aunt’s thin fingers, she might have turned to see him. See if the hurt he wore earlier today was still evident on his face. Or had he forgiven her for breaking up with him? Breaking both of their hearts.

  The woman turned the dolls toward her and lifted the red dress to show her the Japanese characters that had been handwritten on its leg. Sobo’s doll.

  “Imoto-san. Naoko.” Tomiko pointed to Ruthie and added, “Obaasan.”

  Yes, Naoko was her obaasan. Her grandmother, of sorts. She had known without the extra hint that the red-dressed doll belonged to Sobo and wondered what the older lady was getting at. And what did imoto-san mean?

  Gray cleared his throat and introduced himself in Japanese as Naoko’s grandson.

  The woman’s gaze left her face and turned toward him, her face lighting with delight. “Oi,” she said. She bowed her head, then again. “Oi.”

  Gray blinked in response, apparently taking in what she said.

  Mrs. Kishimoto urged him to pull up a chair beside her, then showed him the writing on the other doll, in the same location.

  “One-san,” she said, and in a gesture mimicking Ruthie’s earlier one, pointed to herself and added, “Tomiko.”

  Mrs. Kagawa gasped, and the others in the room all fell silent.

  Ruthie recognized the name Tomiko from their introduction and assumed she was indicating the doll in the blue dress belonged to her. The dolls’ resemblance and the fact that they sported similar writings left her wondering where this conversation was heading. Did Tomiko and Sobo know one another? One look at Gray, and the reaction of the others, told her they understood exactly what was going on.

  The birthday lady reached over and patted Gray’s hand in a show of familiarity and affection. “Oi,” she repeated.

  Apparently stunned by the revelation, he sat back in the chair to take it all in.

  “What?” Ruthie asked. “What is it?”

  He turned his gaze to her. “Imoto-san means little sister,” he said. “One-san is big sister.” He frowned, deep in thought. “I thought Sobo was an only child.”

  Ruthie leaned back from her kneeling position and thumped to a resounding sit. Tomiko Kishimoto was Sobo’s big sister. With that bit of information in place, she now recalled the other family word Sobo had taught her. Oi. Nephew.

  This sweet elderly woman was Gray’s great-aunt. It took a moment for everything to sink in. The odds of their encountering each other an ocean and several decades apart were astronomical.

  Gray leaned back, processing this groundbreaking information. He met Ruthie’s gaze, and she wished she could offer him the kind of comfort and assurance she would have liked for herself right now. But this moment was not about her and him.

  Mrs. Kishimoto, having overcome her earlier distress, now excitedly told the story of how she had come to have this doll, and her niece translated for her.

  As young children living outside of Tokyo, the girls had been given identical dolls. Although their mother had made different-colored dresses for them, the sisters had marked the dolls to prevent their getting mixed up. Naoko often slept with hers at night to calm her fears of the dark.

  All the others—Gray’s new family members, and hers by association—were as enthralled as she at hearing the story of two sisters growing up a world away and so many decades ago.

  Tomiko fast-forwarded into the story about ten years. When Naoko was only sixteen, she answered an ad for employment at an office in nearby Tokyo. Anxious about going for her first job interview, she had tucked the doll in her bag to calm her nerves. Tomiko and the family had kissed her and wished her well, then sent her on her way.

  Mrs. Kagawa, apparently also hearing this for the first time, continued translating. Her voice grew soft. “A terrible thing happen that day,” she said. “Naoko never come home.”

  The family had wondered why she had not contacted them and had feared she’d been badly injured. Tomiko had been looking for her ever since, guided to the United States by a witness who saw an American serviceman—Pop?—rescue Naoko from a vicious mugging. Having learned the serviceman’s company was originally from Virginia, Tomiko had eventually moved here in hopes of locating that man and finding out what had become of her sister.

  Ruthie glanced over at Gray, who was visibly shaken by what he heard. To the young people in the room, this was a fascinating story about a stranger they’d never met. But to Gray it was a piece of his grandmother’s personal history. She felt certain his heart must ache at the thought of Sobo, a vulnerable young girl alone in the city, being attacked by a stranger.

  He was so close, almost close enough to touch, but seemed so far away. She wanted to take his hand and let him know he wasn’t alone. Wanted to let him lean on her, but she couldn’t.

  Tomiko reached for him, her demeanor cautious, and asked a question.

  “She want to know,” Mrs. Kagawa said, “if Naoko still alive.”

  Gray stood and bowed to his newfound great-aunt. “She’s very much alive,” he said and briefly explained that she was currently recovering from a broken hip. “I’m sure she would be honored to see you.” Then he turned to Mrs. Kagawa, gave her his grandparents’ address, and asked her to bring Tomiko and meet him there in thirty minutes.

  Ruthie rose and stood on the periphery of the circle that now clustered around Gray. She was not officially connected to these nice people who were Gray’s new family, but neither was she a total bystander.

  He looked to her and nodded toward the door. “Want to ride with me
? I’m sure Sobo and Pop will want you there.”

  Her role in joining him today was not as his partner, but as Sobo’s grandchild.

  Gray stuck his head in Sobo’s room and found Pop reading a home repair magazine while his wife napped. He beckoned his grandfather into the living room, where he broke the news about Sobo’s doll and the history behind it. Ruthie filled in the bits that he left out, and he was glad to have her here. Her calm presence and softly spoken words provided a positive perspective in the midst of their whirlwind discovery.

  Pop sat between them on the sofa and pushed shaky fingers through his white hair.

  Ruthie was the first to break the weird silence that ensued. “Sobo never spoke of her sister. Did they have a falling-out?”

  That possibility had never occurred to Gray. Now he wondered if he’d done the right thing by inviting Tomiko and her family to meet Sobo.

  Pop looked up, his gaze far away as if he was remembering what had happened so many years ago. “Naoko was never able to tell you about her past, because she didn’t remember it. She has amnesia.”

  The mugging. It must have been bad if it had left her with a head injury that blotted out her entire childhood.

  “It was during the Korean War. She had been lured with the prospect of a job in Tokyo. The pay was more than most receptionist jobs offered, which should have been a tip-off, but what young woman wouldn’t have been excited about making a lot of money for her first real job?” He looked toward the hall, listening for Sobo’s call.

  Then he lowered his voice and continued. “She was abducted and beaten, presumably by the man who had placed the ad. I happened to be on R & R that weekend and saw a pretty young woman getting roughed up by a guy who was trying to push her into his car. Other than shouting for help, people stood around watching, but nobody did anything about it. Probably too shocked to react, or maybe they were afraid they’d get hurt if they tried to help her.”