The Woman in the White Kimono

by Ana Johns

  For now, I tell my Little Bird stories. She fell asleep hours ago, but I talk, anyway. I talk until I am hoarse. I yawn but refuse the trap of sleep, for it is a thief that steals precious time away, and I have none to spare.

  “Let’s see, I told you the gift of insults, and the one about stealing the moon...oh, but not my favorite tale. This one I have not shared.” I reposition myself and clear my throat to give the best delivery. “This one I used to make Grandmother tell me over and over. Her voices made me laugh.

  “Four monks are sworn to silence...” I fall silent, not able to continue because I know she will never hear Grandmother’s version.

  Instead, I tell her of Hajime through tears, of how we met and how we loved and of his proud reaction that day on his ship when he told our young guests he would be a father. I tell her of Okaasan’s valiant heart and how she brought me her wedding dress. How she stayed to see me in it, how much I need her now.

  I tell Little Bird my whole heart because it breaks beyond repair.

  What else? I stroke her sunken cheeks. What more can I share? That I want things to be different, but what I want is not what is best? “I am sorry, Little Bird,” I whisper near her ear as tears run down my cheeks. “Know you were wanted and loved, and I will think of you every day of my life. Every day, I swear.” She’s wheezing now. It is as though she knows.

  “Jin, Hatsu and I made a pact, you see,” I say, leaning away to see her eyes and stroke her hair. “We promised one another we would spare our babies from Housemother Sato’s bony fingers of death, that your spirits would never be left waiting.” I kiss her head and wipe at my eyes.

  “And I pledged if I could not keep you with me or keep you safe, to seek out Brother Daigan. To allow him to take you with honor and respect to a better home.” My shoulders shake. “But I do not want to, I swear.”

  I curl around my baby and cry, heartbroken, gutted. So foolish to believe my capacity for pain had been reached. I am bottomless.

  I look to the window. The sun stalks me. It stirs the shadows with a thick haze of sleepy light to shoo them away. My baby barely moves in her swaddling. Does she even breathe? I place my ear near her mouth and listen. It is faint. “Little Bird,” I whisper, and place my finger under her tiny hand, then kiss it. “I will keep my promise. I will seek out Brother Daigan.”

  She blinks up with inky eyes, and I know she understands.

  The vine is threadbare.

  It’s time.

  My throat swells, and a balloon inflates my lungs and threatens to burst. It crushes outward as I try to hold everything in. My chest convulses without breath. My face hurts from the pressure. I will keep my word, for her, I will keep my word.

  I glance outside. The time is now.

  With my baby wrapped tight, and me, again wearing every piece of clothing I own, I sneak around Hisa and out the door. I left a note for Sora. Thank you, I wrote. There was no need for more. The nuns will help her deliver a strong, healthy baby, then make arrangements for her baby at the adoption home. Hisa said Little Bird would only die there alone. I will not let that happen. Brother Daigan will not let that happen.

  With hurried steps, I dart away. The cool air nips at my warmed skin as I work my way toward the entrance gate. Passing through, I all but run the long stretch of road.

  I do not look back. I will never return.

  Destiny’s coin tosses high in the air. I hope for a miracle, some twist in fate’s design, but both sides read the same. What’s best for me and what’s best for my child are not the same.

  So, I will find Brother Daigan, and I will pull my daughter close, just as Okaasan had done with me, and just as quick, I will hand her over and set my Little Bird free.

  I.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Japan, Present Day

  I choked back tears and looked at nothing. To give her daughter up after all that. How could Naoko stand it? I wiped the moisture from under my eyes, trying to regain my composure, but the slight wobble in my voice gave my emotion away. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that was.”

  Her brows lowered over tear-filled eyes. “While I have no regrets in loving your father or our daughter, that love carried a lifetime of consequence. And after?” She looked away. “After, I couldn’t bear it. It was an impossible darkness, so I tried to drown my sorrow in the river of three crossings.”

  I covered my mouth with my hands, scared of what she would say.

  “But the pain I’d cause Kenji with another loss outweighed the rocks I’d placed in my suitcase. How could I cause him more pain? And I had made a pact with Jin and Hatsu, so I untangled the rope of clothing from around my waist and sat on the shore, measuring the sins of Housemother Sato against my own. I decided my life sentence of punishment was to ensure Housemother received hers.”

  It took everything not to reach over and squeeze her hand. “Did she?”

  “The abbot kept his word and informed the authorities. They, in turn, came to me. Housemother was arrested, tried and found guilty.” Naoko’s shoulders fell. “Although she served only four years.”

  “Four?” I creased my brows and shook my head. “That’s it?”

  “Yes, but they closed the maternity home. So, you see? The abbot was correct with his starfish story. While Sora and I could not save them all, our efforts made a difference to that one, and to that one.”

  “And to me,” I whispered, because she had given my sister up. I sat with Naoko’s words, acquainting myself to their truth. My heart ached for her, for them all, but it also lifted with hope. My sister was still out there, somewhere.

  As a journalist, research was my backbone. With renewed purpose, I fired off questions. “Do you know where Brother Daigan took her? What adoption agencies he worked through? Did she end up at that home? If she stayed in Japan or ended up in the States or if they registered a name?”

  “A name?” Naoko’s eyes widened. “To me, she is only Little Bird. With that name, I set her free. And by sharing my story, I had hoped to set you, Hajime’s daughter, free, as well.” Her chin dipped, her brows furrowed.

  I sensed she wanted me to leave it alone, but I was so close to finding my sister. I’d come all this way. “I know I can find her, Naoko.” I knew who to call and how to search. “Maybe I don’t have her name, but you gave me Brother Daigan’s and the home in Oiso.” My heart pounded my ribs. “Is there anything else you can share that might help me find her? Anything at all?”

  “No.” She shook her head. She took my hands in hers, squeezed, then turned my hands palms up. “I’ve given you our story, and the story of our Little Bird. Now what you do with it is in your hands.”

  She let go and I held my hands suspended in front of me a moment, then clasped them together and brought them to my heart. She had given me her most precious gift, so I needed to return a gift just as precious that was never really mine.

  I untied my mother’s scarf from around my neck. Every thread held a memory. Sunday drives, silly sing-alongs, blond hair tousled by the wind. But knowing the threads ran through Naoko’s memories first, I held it out. “I believe this is yours. Pops said he meant to give it to me, but my mom found it and, well, what was he gonna say?” I smiled with a one-shoulder shrug. “He gave it to me before he died, telling me it was important.” I held it out. “Now I understand all the reasons why.”

  Naoko ran her fingers over the beautiful silk but didn’t take it. “With its return, you’ve helped Hajime keep his promise.” Her gaze met mine. “May I now ask you to promise me something in return?”

  “Of course, anything.”

  “If you find my Little Bird, you will give her this scarf. Tell her it has passed between fathers and daughters and husbands and wives and traveled the great ocean twice. That it carries not only expectations, but all of our love.” Her eyes glistened with a tight-lipped smile.

&
nbsp; I promised.

  “Naoko?” An elderly man in tan trousers and a blue pin-striped shirt peered out from the house.

  “Oh, my husband,” Naoko said, rocking forward to stand. “He’s here to escort me home.”

  I tilted my head in curiosity, then rose.

  He strolled through the patio door, caught sight of us and continued in our direction. The lightest of gray fuzz slicked back over the top of his head. His sharp, square jaw touted the same gray in an unshaven shadow. And like Naoko, he exuded an understated sophistication in presence and manners.

  He offered a small bow.

  I wasn’t sure what to say since we hadn’t spoken of him at all. Embarrassed, I simply returned the gesture.

  “Forgive me, but your eyes.” His smile lengthened, his chin dipped. “I haven’t seen eyes so blue since the famous movie star Marylin Monroe honeymooned in Tokyo. And I’m afraid, like hers, they’ve hypnotized me.”

  My heart leaped to my throat. Those were the same words said to Naoko in her story. Was it him? The pressure shot the words like a cannon. “You’re Satoshi?” Maybe we had spoken of her husband, after all. Many times. Of course it was him. The way he stood—tall and strong. The way he spoke—thoughtful and measured.

  When he didn’t respond, I sensed my mistake. “I’m so sorry. I just assumed because of the stories that you were the boy she spoke about.” My cheeks warmed, and I knew they had flushed red.

  He laughed, full and rich, then touched my shoulder. “Please, I’m honored for such an enthusiastic greeting.”

  “And I’m extremely embarrassed.” I looked at my feet with a small, apologetic smile.

  “I am the one embarrassed,” Naoko said to ease the awkwardness. “For I spoke with such detail, you of course knew him at once. Please allow me to officially present my husband, Satoshi Tanaka.”

  “It is you.” I beamed. The inner light lifted my smile. “And I’m so glad it is. I am.” I nodded, looking at them together. Naoko married Satoshi. This was right. I couldn’t stop my grin.

  He bowed, still smiling. “I only hope to live up to such an introduction.”

  “You have. Absolutely.”

  “And this, Satoshi, is my new treasured friend, Miss Kovač. Tori Kovač.”

  “Tori?” His smile softened. Satoshi turned toward Naoko and a shared glance lingered between them. An entire conversation without words.

  For the first time, I wished for a translator.

  “Well, I won’t keep you any longer.” I took a step, but hesitated. “Naoko, if I find anything...” I wasn’t sure how much to say in front of Satoshi. “I mean, do you want me to contact you? Would you want to know whatever I learn?”

  A silence fell between us.

  “I’ve met you, Tori Kovač, and what I want, what I hope, is for you to finally make peace with your father’s past. Know that by meeting you, learning your name, you have allowed peace in mine.” With that she stepped back and bowed from her waist.

  I wanted to hug her. Hug them both. But I bowed in turn, then held up the scarf, to say, I wouldn’t forget, thank you, a million unspoken things.

  Satoshi and I exchanged warm smiles, then with a slight bow of the chin, I turned to go. As I approached the road, I spun back a last time.

  Naoko’s family house on the hill was surrounded by blooms of white. This is where my father met for tea with a king of an empire, dreamed a different life and fought against heaven’s wishes.

  I’d probably never be back to see Naoko or Satoshi, but I’d never forget either one. With Naoko’s scarf, I carried their story—our story—forward with hope and love.

  My flight didn’t leave until morning, but I could catch a later one if needed. I refused to leave without visiting the monastery and inquiring of Brother Daigan and the orphanage.

  FORTY

  Japan, Present Day

  Riding the train to Hiratsuka to visit the monastery, I stood, wired with “what-ifs.” What if the monastery had lots of information on Brother Daigan? What if the orphanage he worked with had records? What if I found my sister?

  I stifled a laugh. I was getting way ahead of myself. Because what if the monastery had no idea who Brother Daigan was? And like my father’s military records, what if it was another dead end?

  What then?

  I would visit the Girl with Red Shoes statue. Even if it meant a later flight. I owed it to Naoko, my sister, to Pops—for what he’d tried to tell me. The Girl with Red Shoes stands at each port on either side of the ocean to remind us of the thousands of innocent children lost between them.

  Who were still lost.

  What if one could be found?

  There’s a tether linked between families and there’s a natural pull to reel them in. I could feel it. I was close. I sat down, wiping tears from my cheeks. My emotions ran rampant.

  The train coasted to a stop, letting more passengers off than on, and leaving my car near empty. Almost there. My stomach twisted in anticipation. Hiratsuka would be next, and the monastery a quick walk away.

  I planned to run.

  Settling into a seat, I watched the landscape roll past. The sleepy countryside I imagined from Naoko’s stories didn’t match the urban sprawl of modern buildings that now covered it. On the other side, the train line hugged the sea. Even that intoned of industry.

  We slowed, and I jumped up, ready to go. Stepping out onto the platform, the sea air greeted me with a salty kiss and damp embrace. I debated my direction. Naoko said it was a straight shot from the station, but the street split in two.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, but the woman smiled and kept walking. I sidestepped a bike only to force a moped to swerve. I spun around, trying to get my bearings. Shops, office buildings and traffic with bicycles in between. Hiratsuka was not a sleepy rural city in the least; in fact, it bustled.

  And yet my phone wasn’t connecting to maps. One bar. I approached a shop and peered over the counter. An old man sat in front of a small TV, eating. He smiled.

  “Hi. Is the monastery this way?” I asked, and pointed down the street. “Monks? Brother Daigan?”

  He wrinkled his nose and lost his smile. I repeated myself, then gave up, stepping the way I’d indicated.

  The more I walked, the farther apart the buildings became. They changed from cubed offices to stacked apartments to modest, stand-alone homes, many of which were abandoned. Some had partially caved-in roofs with windows and doors missing. I’d read that over eight million homes were abandoned due to Japan’s aging nation and shrinking population, but to see it in person was eerie. A real-life ghost town made ominous by the fading sun. I walked faster. Afraid I’d find the monastery closed. If I found it.

  Naoko also said the walk wasn’t long, but I had walked awhile. I asked a few others but couldn’t understand them. One pointed left, another right. I thanked them with a bow and kept going in the same direction.

  A high fence ran along the road across the street.

  My heart jumped. A bamboo fence.

  I hadn’t even considered the maternity home could still be there.

  Crossing the street, I peeked between the stalks, but found only dense brush on the other side. I remembered Naoko’s words, We’re trying to get to the other side. My child, you are on the other side.

  She had wanted out and here I was, some fifty years later, desperate to get in. Instead of a locked gate, an open arch covered the entrance. I ventured through, careful not to trip on the uneven pavers embedded in the walkway. The late sun mottled under the canopy of trees, casting inconsistent shadows that swallowed the street behind me. Birds trilled warnings of my uninvited arrival.

  There were more woods ahead and thick forest on either side. I spun around to consider going back when someone called out in Japanese. I was trespassing. I shouldn’t have been there.

  The man’s
bald head appeared first over the raised incline, then the rest of him. A monk in white. His robe swayed to and fro as he approached, like a broom sweeping away debris. He carried a small bag as if he’d just returned from the store. Calling out, he thwacked his walking stick on the ground.

  I gave a wave and approached him. “Hello, is there a maternity home back there?”

  He blinked and stared. Maybe he didn’t speak English, but as a monk, he might recognize the name. “Do you know of a Brother Daigan?”

  His thick brows furrowed.

  “Brother Daigan, he helped babies?”

  His chin lifted. “Ah, babies.” He patted his belly and then pushed rounded cheeks high into a smile. His eyes creased like crescent moons. “Ojizō-sama, Brother Daigan?”

  “Um, yes?”

  “Okay, yes. Come.” He floated ahead. When I didn’t follow, he repeated himself, waving with fervor. “Babies. Ojizō-sama, Daigan, come.”

  Maybe it still was a maternity home? I hoped he didn’t misunderstand and think I was pregnant.

  I caught up to walk beside him. Water trickled somewhere ahead. A stream? Yes, and a small footbridge. Naoko’s persistent fish! I smiled and gazed over as we crossed. Fish with fins of gold, white and black circled below in shallow eddies. Naoko and Satoshi were in this exact spot discussing the story. And he’d been right: Naoko was like the fish, she had persistence and fight. And Naoko had been right, as well. She had needed it.

  Ahead, the trees parted. A building with rust-colored tiles peeked through. Or maybe the color was cast from the sun hanging low overhead. It had several newer buildings constructed around it. “Is that the maternity home?”

  He shook his head, then veered away from the house to a side path, pointing ahead. The new path was smaller and somewhat overgrown. We had to walk single file. I stepped faster to keep from trailing behind. The property sloped, dipped, then climbed and climbed.