by Sarina Dorie
Meriwether nodded. “Indeed, Grandmother Ami.”
I hid my smile under my hand as her words from the day before dawned on me. I had forgotten that in Jomon chin-chin was children’s slang for penis.
Nipa must have been watching the storytelling. I was aware of his presence when he nudged me with an elbow. “Tell him what he said in Jomon.”
I shook my head. “No, he would be mortified.”
“So?”
“So I care about his feelings.”
He traced one of the horns on his headdress with a finger. “Why do you care so deeply? Do you love this man? I thought most gaiyojin women haven’t the freedom to marry for love.”
I didn’t answer. My love life wasn’t any of his business.
Meriwether sat taller when he saw me. “Good day to you, Felicity dear. You look more yourself today. How do you feel?”
I bowed my head, a Jomon gesture more than one he would recognize.
“They really like my storytelling.” From his earnest grin I could see he didn’t suspect he’d said something wrong. “They’ve asked me to recite the story of The Three Little Pigs several times already.”
A child tugged on his sleeve. “Chinny, chin-chin.” The boy burst into giggles and ran off.
I turned away, unable to keep a straight face as he finished the story. I felt guilty for laughing. If nothing else, he was my friend and he would be my husband someday. It didn’t seem right a lady should derive amusement from jokes made at her fiancé’s expense. Then again, making him privy to the fact he was the joke hardly seemed more becoming.
When the story was done, Charbonneau helped Captain Ford to his feet.
The captain nodded to Nipa. “How about that tour you promised, eh?”
Nipa eyed Captain Ford’s bandaged leg and shook his head. He addressed me. “This man is not fit for a long walk.”
I had to agree. I translated.
“You need not fret over my sake. I’m fit as a fiddle.” He muttered under his breath. “And ready to make my fortune finding those red diamonds.”
Nipa’s face remained expressionless as though he hadn’t understood. I had played enough whist and witnessed enough card games that I could imagine his poker face would be the envy of every other player. The notion of games lent me an idea.
I placed a hand on Nipa’s arm. “What if you share some other aspect of the Tanukijin culture today and save the tour for another day? Perhaps we can share games or music, dance or some other art form. It could be a mental tour more than a physical one. A way to exchange cultures.”
A strained smile stretched over Meriwether’s face. His gaze was glued on my hand resting on the Tanukijin leader’s arm. I promptly removed it.
Nipa bowed his head at me. “You are very wise, despite your youth, ne? I will consent to this suggestion. Give me but a moment to make preparations and I will retrieve you.”
When I translated, Meriwether suggested another round of The Three Little Pigs. “How about Little Red Riding Hood instead?” I asked.
Meriwether leaned toward me, lowering his voice as we followed Sumiko through a drafty hallway. “Do you believe in ghosts? I think this castle is haunted.”
I laughed nervously, pretending the word “ghost” didn’t remind me of what Sumiko had told me about Taishi. “I think you must understand that the Jomon treat everything as a joke. It isn’t that they’re trying to be cruel, but they have different values than ours and one way they diffuse tension is to play harmless pranks. It is very likely someone is trying to jest with you. Just like they did with the wife-swap.”
Meriwether frowned and shook his head.
We were ushered into a partially covered courtyard outside where bundled children played. Small drifts of snow were spread throughout the grounds. Save for a few trees and benches, the area was devoid of much.
Our guide for the first game was a girl of about eight, Little Ami—named after her grandmother—who showed us a pebble throwing game. I could see why Nipa had selected this game, as Captain Ford could sit and play. I was very bad at it, but I had fun watching Meriwether play with the children. He was going to make a wonderful father someday.
“Look, I won!” Meriwether was practically jumping up and down. Charbonneau clapped politely. He had refused to join in the games.
“That’s because they let you win,” Captain Ford said with a snort.
I regretted that it was true. I had actually heard the children conspire to let him win. Nonetheless, I didn’t want the captain to put him down.
“Nonsense,” I said. “The captain is simply jealous because he didn’t win. Bravo, Meriwether.”
I glanced around for Sumiko and Nipa but neither remained in the courtyard. Little Ami instructed us in ohajiki, another pebble game, hana ichi monme, a game like Red Rover, and beigoma, a top spinning game. We played with the group of children.
I knelt amongst a group of bundled-up girls. I let them pat my blonde hair and showed them my pocket watch. One of the girls whispered to another. “She looks like Heisu-san and Michi-chan. Maybe all gaiyojin are this way.” They both giggled.
Heisu was the closest most Jomon could come to pronouncing my sister’s name. I returned my gaze to the pebbles before us, doing my best not to act too interested in hearing about my sister. “Who is Michi-chan?” The name was Jomon, but if she looked like me she must be another foreigner.
The girls whispered amongst themselves. Their expressions became guarded. They lacked the diplomacy to smile and pretend everything was all right like Sumiko had.
“Daughter,” one girl said.
“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to me Faith might have a family
“Have you met Heisu-san?” I asked. “She was my sister. She was so pretty when she was your age. She looked very much like our mother.” I couldn’t actually see her face that day, only a blur. Perhaps if I succeeded in reclaiming my memories, all past recollections would be clearer.
No one answered. All smiles were gone now.
Ami wandered over from where she watched Meriwether play with the boys. She placed her hands on her hips. “How about another game of hana ichi monme?”
When I suggested the idea in English, Meriwether nodded.
“Not so fast. It ain’t a cultural exchange unless we teach them a game in return.” Captain Ford rubbed at his sideburns. “Hmm. How about we teach them boxing?”
“No!” Meriwether and I both shouted.
Charbonneau coughed. “Might I instead put forth the suggestion of tag?”
In the evening, Tomomi Sensei gave me another lesson in concentration, and Sumiko assisted me in undressing.
She made idle chatter as she unlaced my corset. “I think you are a good vacation for my brother. I have never seen him rest, nor take a moment from his duties. He even takes his eboshi off before you. I think you are an enchantress. Do gaijin have women who cast spells on men?”
“Only in stories.” I laughed. “Surely you exaggerate. He must relax sometimes.”
“No, he is too serious. He never rests. Winter is an anxious time and brings us sorrow, so this time of year is usually the hardest.”
The winter my people had caused with our machines. The thought discouraged me.
I went to the onsen on my own to scrub myself and massage oils into my dry skin. Fewer women lounged about, for the hour was late. When I returned, Nipa kneeled on my bed. He sat with his back to the fire, staring into the darkness as if waiting for me.
I leaned against the door frame. “I begin to think your sister finds ways to busy herself simply so you might spend the evening with me.”
Nipa shook his head. “Quite the opposite. Because my duties have shifted to entertaining guests and spending time with you, she must do more than usual. I am fortunate my sister appreciates how important it is for us to get to know each other and she is willing to help without complaint.”
I padded closer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were a burden. You should let us help with ch
ores.” It was bad enough my people had made the lives of the Jomon worse, but my guilt swelled knowing we had given them more day-to-day work since arriving.
He patted the blankets beside him. “You have a generous heart, Felicity-san. I will consider this for tomorrow.”
Reluctantly I sat. The logs popped and flinched. He didn’t seem to mind the silence, but I did. “When we are alone like this, you wish me to be less formal?”
He nodded.
I cleared my throat. “The Chiramantepjin custom was for a woman to call a man ‘husband’ in private. I am not quite sure if that is appropriate. What am I to call you when you aren’t acting as leader?”
“Since taking up the eboshi of leader, I have never been anyone but Nipa. In hard times as now, I am always leader.” He drummed his fingers again his chin. “You can call me anata.” A smile tugged at his lips.
That was the equivalent of “sweetheart.” I laughed at that, but stopped when I saw he was serious. I bowed my head in apology. “Gomen nasai.”
“Until you decide you wish to call me something more intimate, call me Hoku Nipa.”
“Hoku,” I repeated. I’d heard that name once before back in the Chiramantepjin village. Using his name was like when we called Taishi’s mother Shoko Mama or Shoko Nipa depending on whether she wore her eboshi or not.
He took my hand in his. I resisted the temptation to pull away. I told myself to be in the moment, not in the past, like Tomomi Sensei had instructed earlier in the evening. I focused on the texture of his calloused fingers smoothing over the back of my hand. I contemplated the beauty of shadow and light dancing over our skin. There was something both enticing and attractive about Jomon features. I stared into the depths of his black eyes, feeling as though I could fall into them.
Mayhap that was a little too in the moment.
“How will you help me retrieve my memories?” I asked. “Will you search for Taishi?”
“There are matters more basic that must be dealt with first. Grandmother Ami tells me there are ways to retrieve thoughts about your memories—though not the memories themselves. For example, think of breakfast this morning. Did you like the side of berries in the little bowl?”
I nodded. The morsel of fresh fruit had been the favorite part of my meal.
“If you were to give me that memory, you would not have that memory inside you, but you might have the thought from just now that you liked the berries. You would still know you enjoyed breakfast even if you couldn’t taste the berries any longer. Do you understand?” His hand was warm on mine, inviting and reassuring.
His gentleness made it easier for me to speak. “Except if someone took my memories of all day. Then I wouldn’t have the memory of this morning, nor the reflection that I had liked them.”
He nodded. “True. It is possible you may still have reflections. If you learn to feel more comfortable around Jomon—and, dare I say, me—we might revive some of your reflections. A memory from long ago that we think we have forgotten can become vivid and clear, and so it is with the feelings around memories. You may have more inside you than you know. We won’t be certain unless we try memory exchange to reveal them.”
Memory exchange was asking a lot. Then again, I supposed it was asking something of him as well. He was the one who had to be patient and put up with my resistance. “Why are you willing to help me?”
“I am the leader of the Tanukijin. It is my duty to take care of my people as well as atone for my people’s actions.”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about the meeting of the tribes and the attack? Were you there? Did you see what happened?” All I remembered was the fire and the accusations that the dragon clan had been behind it. I opened my mouth to ask more.
Nipa held up a hand to stop me from asking more questions. “I was not leader then. Nor have I the power to remedy the darkness of that day. What I can do, as leader and as your temporary husband, is attend to your needs. Returning your memories is your greatest need, ne?” Even with his back to the fire I could see the depth in his soulful eyes. “It is my duty, but more than anything, I cannot stand for such a thing to have happened to any human being.” A mischievous grin transformed his face, making him look younger. “That and it does benefit me, does it not? For the future wife of my planet’s conqueror to be happy means she might rule over us wisely and have mercy on my people.”
I laughed. “Truly you don’t think we’re conquerors, do you, Hoku?”
He smiled and blushed. I wondered if it was from the use of his name. “I haven’t decided yet. But enough of tomorrows. Tonight, tell me something of your life.” He placed a blanket around my shoulders.
I was of two minds. First the comfortableness I felt around him. Then, how he was getting too close. The wife-swap gave him liberty to act familiar. I thought of the maneuver Tomomi Sensei had taught me earlier that morning. It involved an elbow to the gut. Of course, such a gesture would hardly have proven an ability to trust him. And that was what I needed to be able to do if I was going to allow him to help me. Nipa placed a separate blanket around his own shoulders and remained separately cocooned. Immediately, I felt better. And simultaneously worse.
I was tired of my suspicious nature keeping people at bay, even the most friendly and innocuous. It was hard to imagine how I would even marry Meriwether. If I didn’t at least try to retrieve my past as I’d set out to do, would I ever be able to trust anyone?
“Tell me of a happy time you remember and then I will tell you one of mine,” he said.
I considered what I could share that didn’t bring me pain. I wasn’t sure there were any memories not tainted by Taishi’s presence. I sat for so long thinking that he asked, “Are you willing to share yourself with me this way?”
I smiled at his courteousness and dipped my head. “My memories of my mother are my happiest memories. Back when I was a child, space travel was slower and it took three and a half years to get here from the hyperjump point, whereas now it takes only one. She died along the way. Prior to that, I had two parents who doted on my sister and me. My mother was an heiress—or a former heiress. She was meant to inherit a large sum of money upon her parents’ death. Her parents had picked out a man they wished her to marry—a man they said owned three asteroids and a space station. A man wealthy enough to buy a planet.” I untucked the section of blanket where I had hidden my father’s pocket watch and retrieved it. The comfort of the constant ticking reminded me I was alive, even if he wasn’t.
“Like the Klark Nipa?” he asked. “It is said he wishes to purchase this planet.”
I frowned. “No, I think Lord Klark is even wealthier.” And Lord Klark couldn’t purchase the planet. After the fiasco with the Oregon Territories, the United Worlds and British Empire had agreed to only allow uninhabited worlds to be purchased. At least, they only allowed worlds they knew to be uninhabited. Most people, even those on the voyage to Planet 157, denied the possibility of people living here. If they knew about the Jomon, surely they wouldn’t try to buy up plots of land, as that was against our agreed-upon laws. The idea they didn’t know unsettled me. When we returned to the ship, we had to contact Lord Klark. Or better yet, someone in charge of planetary acquisitions in the British Empire of Planets.
Nipa touched my shoulder, bringing me back to the present. “I beg your pardon. I interrupt your story.”
“My mother didn’t want to marry the man her parents chose for her. She wished to choose for herself. She eloped with my father, a lowly cartographer who was not of noble birth. Her parents expressed their displeasure by revoking her income and future wealth.”
“It is rare to marry for love? Do you marry Meriwether for love?”
I was too tired to explain my reasons for marrying Meriwether, nor was it any of his business. “My mother decided she would make her own fortune. She borrowed money and hired a crew. Unlike most ladies, she had been raised to be business-minded and excelled in bossing people around.”
Nipa
laughed at this. “Ah, like you, ne?”
His mirth was contagious. “Yes, but she somehow made my people listen to her. She convinced a man like a Nipa—only he was the leader of many stars—to hire her to survey a newly discovered planet. A business man from a different star sector had rights to the mining operations in the poles, but the Nipa told her he would grant her choice of territories on the planet when she completed her mission. Only she died in space and my father had to finish for her. He had no heart in it and he wanted to leave. I think he only stayed for the potential to earn a living.” I tried to remember one of the happy moments with her. “My mother used to read to us and tell us stories. The computer was full of educational texts, and though there were stories of Earth and its people, none compared to the way she told a tale. She taught us lullabies and waltzes—that’s a kind of dance.” I pictured her radiant face in my memory, her long blonde hair pinned up in a bun and wisps of hair escaping. Hair that was much like mine, only I didn’t think my face had the same classically elegant proportions. Nor was her complexion marred by freckles. My sister had been so much more beautiful—so much more like our mother.
I yawned and closed my eyes, trying to imagine the way she’d looked when she was healthy and strong—before the cancer had made her sick. Her face was still fuzzy today. “I stopped being able to see her clearly after my memories were stolen.”
He nodded. “When too many memories are shared it can affect the ones you still keep within you.” He placed an arm around my shoulder and squeezed me to his side. “I see you are tired. I will leave you thinking of those happy thoughts. Tomorrow you shall teach us waltzes.” He pulled away as though he would go.
“No, no, tell me one of your memories. Can you tell me about my sister? How you met her? What she is like now? No one will tell me anything about her.”
“If it pleases you. Let me think . . . your sister. At first it was very difficult for her here. She did not fit in, nor did she wish to be here alone without you.”
“She blames me for leaving her?” My throat tightened.