“Why are we going away?” Michiko asked.
“The city is too crowded,” her mother said quietly. “We will be vacationing in a farmhouse. The fresh air will do us good.”
Sadie laughed. “That’s a good way to put it, Eiko,” she said. It looked as if Sadie hadn’t followed her own good advice. She wore a light silk dress under a green duster coat and carried a matching purse. Her hat looked like a spring garden.
“Sshh,” Eiko said, putting a finger to her lips. “No more questions. The baby is going to sleep.”
Sadie looked at Geechan. His eyes were shut. “Which one?” she whispered and winked at Michiko.
This time Michiko put her finger to her lips. Her Aunt Sadie was fond of making fun of people, but Michiko didn’t like it when it was Geechan.
She turned to watch the station pass. Crowds of Japanese women and children waited at different points along the tracks as their train lumbered by. It puzzled her as to why so many Japanese people were here. For some reason it made her feel sad. She pressed her face to the glass but pulled back. Dead flies scattered the sill.
Michiko gave a great sigh. She wished they didn’t have to take this vacation. She didn’t want to go to a farmhouse in the mountains. She wanted to go to Japan instead. She wanted to see the places her father and Geechan talked about, the places where they were born.
The train picked up speed, past the tall grey buildings, then it moved into a shadowy forest. Huge black-spined firs towered over the tracks. Clouds of sumac peppered with seedpods flanked the rails. The train wound its way along the rim of a gorge, and Michiko stared down into a small canyon laced with tiny waterfalls. She felt as if she were travelling through her storybook. Sadie and her mother closed their eyes.
Feeling hungry, Michiko dragged the carpetbag out from under her seat and pushed the wide wooden handles apart. As she opened the clasp, she felt someone watching her.
A frail woman stood next to her sleeping mother. Her small arms stuck out of the short sleeves of her blouse. Several long white hairs escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck.
Michiko lowered her eyes. The woman’s tiny sandals and ankle socks gave her little girl feet. She looked up just as the woman smiled, displaying missing teeth and black gums. With a crooked finger, she stroked Hiro’s cheek. Then she gazed directly into the carpetbag.
“O-bento?” the old woman asked, looking at the small packet of sunflower seeds and the orange.
Michiko shook her head. It was only a snack. She shut the bag with a thud. Then, she turned her shoulders and stared out the window until the woman moved away.
The rest of the people on the train were silent. She listened to the rhythmic pounding of the wheels on the track. Her eyes closed as she felt the train speed up and slow down many times over. Finally, Michiko rested her head on her mother’s shoulder.
When she awoke, a large, shining lake filled the window beside her. There was a sandy beach along the edge. She dipped her head down to look at the high blue-topped mountains across the water. The pearl buttons of her mother’s suit jacket were once again in a perfect row. Michiko glanced around. Geechan was gone, and so was Auntie Sadie. The railway car was completely empty, except for the three of them.
“Are they here?” came a woman’s loud voice, followed by heavy stomps up the wooden steps. “Are they here?”
Down the aisle stomped a large red-faced woman in a bright print dress. She wore a yellow straw hat brimmed with cherries on top of a pile of curls the colour of carrots. Several of the cherries had chunks missing. Their insides looked like mothballs.
The woman’s cheeks were bright pink from exertion. Her lips, painted with heavy lipstick, were the same color as the cherries. She put her hand on the back of a seat to steady herself and catch her breath. “Mrs. Minagawa?” she asked, blinking behind round gold spectacles.
Michiko’s mother nodded and stood up, holding Hiro. Michiko waited.
“I’m Edna Morrison,” the woman announced. Her voice was loud and strong. It made Michiko think she was angry, but her face was smiling. “What a sweet little boy,” she exclaimed. She put out her arms to take him. “He looks just like a little doll,” she said.
Hiro whimpered. His lower lip protruded, his mouth opened wide, and he wailed.
“Oh my,” the woman said in surprise and moved back. “Oh my, my,” she repeated. “I guess everyone is a little out of sorts.”
The woman took Michiko’s mother by the elbow. “Come with me.” Michiko grabbed the carpetbag. “We’ve got a ride.”
A huge pile of duffle bags and trunks lay in the dirt beside the steps. Mrs. Morrison stepped around them to the green pick-up truck parked by the depot. A man in a dark flat cap slouched against the front bumper. He wore denim farm pants and a red plaid shirt. His neck was tanned deep brown, the same V-shape as his open shirt neck.
Sadie waved from the back of the truck. “Welcome to the Land of No,” she called out.
Mrs. Morrison hauled herself into the front seat. Eiko tried to hand Hiro to her, but he clung to her neck and wailed. Eiko walked to the back of the truck and passed him up to Sadie. Sadie gave him to Geechan, who sat perched on the edge of his suitcase. Their belongings formed a pile in the middle.
Sadie hauled Michiko up into the back of the truck.
“What did you call this place?” Michiko asked.
“The Land of No,” her aunt explained. “No streetcars, no buses and no cinemas.”
“There’s electricity and running water,” Eiko said. “That’s what’s important.”
They watched the train gather steam as it came to life again. The driving rods pushed the large black wheels out of the station, chugging uphill, then all went quiet.
The pick-up truck rocked and swayed along the dusty dirt road. Michiko rode standing with her back pressed against the cab as it climbed the steep mountain. They passed people from the train. All of them carried sacks on their back and suitcases in their hands. They made their way down a narrow rutted lane, between the trees.
“Where are they going?” Michiko asked.
“To their new homes in the woods,” her aunt replied, pointing up the lane.
Michiko swivelled her head. She couldn’t see any houses. All she saw was a huge hill, covered with pines. She looked straight up, to find the sky.
“There is no limit to looking upward,” Geechan told her when she lowered her eyes.
Michiko thought about living in the woods. “Do you think there are bears?” she asked him, but the wind swallowed her words. She turned quickly to her mother to ask again but didn’t; her mother’s face was like a mask.
They passed large wooden houses with railed verandahs. It seemed strange to see houses spaced so far apart, without fences. They passed green fields blooming with tall spikes of flowers that looked just like paintbrushes.
On they
