where a stream raced past banks of waving bluebells and daisies.
When the truck finally left the dirt road and turned onto a large winding lane, it sped up. The wooden sides of the truck rattled, and the floor shook. Michiko’s hat began to flap. Her mother covered Hiro’s face with his blanket. Then Michiko’s blue straw hat blew up, across the back of the truck and away on the wind.
Five
Be Grateful
The truck slowed to a crawl and turned off the main road, where a rusty red iron gate stood ajar. In dark carved letters, the sign on the corner post read NELSON. The road ahead dipped down and split. Michiko could see a long, low white building at the bottom with mountains looming behind. Battered board fences framed the fields on either side.
Mrs. Morrison waved her plump freckled arm out the window. “This is it.”
Their four-hour ride in the back of a truck had finally ended.
The man in the flat cap got out. He removed the pipe from between his brown stained teeth and used it to point at the old wooden farmhouse. At one time, the house had been dark green, but it hadn’t seen paint in years. A cluster of small stunted trees that reminded Michiko of old men stood close together down one side. Clumps of grey brush grew up and onto the long thin wooden verandah. The golden matted field reminded Michiko of the prize cow she had seen at the Exhibition.
Mrs. Morrison beckoned to Michiko, but she backed away. She did not like the sickly sweet smell of the loud woman with the cherry hat. She took Hiro, while Sadie helped Geechan down.
Michiko watched the driver and her mother talking. It was a good thing he spoke with her and not her grandfather, she thought. Most people had a hard time understanding him. He mixed his English words with Japanese. Michiko knew it was because Geechan was Issei, like her father. But her Mother, Aunt Sadie and Uncle Ted had all been born in Canada. They were Nisei.
Her mother removed a thick white envelope from her purse. She took out a paper and handed it to the driver. He read it, nodded and handed it back to her. Then she handed him the envelope. He removed his cap, placed it inside and put his cap back on his head. Then he got back behind the wheel beside Mrs. Morrison. He isn’t going to help us carry anything inside, Michiko thought.
“Thank you, Mrs. Morrison,” her mother called out with a wave. She nudged Michiko to wave as well, but she didn’t.
As they approached the house, two squirrels gossiping at the end of the verandah ran off. They mounted the long plank steps, and Geechan pushed open the wooden door. A tarnished metal lantern hung from a nail beside the frame. The clattering of their shoes echoed over the wooden floor.
They entered one large room on the ground floor. There weren’t any walls to divide the space into living room, dining room and kitchen. A set of stairs ran across the back, with a row of wooden pegs on the wall behind it. There was a sink and a counter. A large red-handled metal pump stood over the sink, with a washboard propped on its side against it.
Across from the counter was an ugly, black iron monster stove. Geechan carried Hiro to the stove and patted it. “Hee-ta,” he told Hiro, and together they peered into the large wooden box next to it, brimming with logs.
A small, square pine table sat on top of a patch of linoleum in the middle of the floor. There were four kitchen chairs, each one a different shape and colour. A corn broom stood in the corner next to a tin bucket. A thick strip of brown tape hung from the ceiling, matted with the bodies of flies. The entire place had a deep musty smell.
Michiko’s mother looked around and gave a small sigh. “So, this is our new home,” she said, removing the long pearl-tipped pin that fixed her hat to her head. Taking her hat off, she pushed the pin back into the brim and placed the hat on the table. She gave a weak smile.
“New?” Michiko retorted, looking around in surprise. “This isn’t new.” There wasn’t even a couch or stuffed chair. Where was she supposed to curl up and read?
Sadie fumbled with the window above the sink, attempting to open it. Spiderwebs filled the corners on the outside, and a fat bumblebee lay still in the corner inside the frame. She flicked it onto the floor with a look of disgust. “It’s nailed shut,” she complained. “This is so inaka.”
“You are right, Auntie Sadie,” Michiko said. She stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. “Why are we spending our vacation in this old place?”
Eiko placed her hands on Michiko’s shoulders and guided her to one of the wooden chairs. She pulled another out and placed it in front of her. Then she sat down and took both of Michiko’s hands. “We are very grateful for this house,” her mother told her in a low voice.
Michiko furrowed her brows. How could her mother be grateful for a house like this? It wasn’t anything like the one in the city.
She looked past her mother. The front door was nothing but one big wooden plank. Their door at home was dark mahogany, with an oval frosted window. In the middle of the pane, there was a tulip. Its petals were made of the diamond-shaped panels of red glass, outlined in copper.
“Do you know how lucky we are?” her mother asked.
Michiko did not respond. She was busy thinking about the door. It had a knob of chipped enamel and a wooden peg at the side to keep it shut. The knob on the door at home looked like a huge cut diamond that she liked to pretend was a real jewel. Their door locked with a key. This one didn’t even have a keyhole.
“Michiko.” Her mother spoke sharply, giving her shoulders a shake. “Do you know how lucky we are?”
Michiko moved her gaze to her mother’s face, surprised at the tone of her voice.
“Mrs. Morrison helped us make these arrangements.” Her mother’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Some people have to live in tents until they have a place, but we have a whole house just to ourselves.”
Michiko closed her eyes. The sharpness of her mother’s voice upset her. Eiko did not usually speak that way to her, and Michiko didn’t want to listen any more.
Eiko lowered her voice to a whisper. “Be grateful, Michiko, our whole family is together.”
“Our whole family is not together,” Michiko said. She broke free of her mother’s grasp and stood up. “Father isn’t here, is he?” She turned and ran up the stairs.
The first room at the top of the stairs had a small cot and a crib. Except for two bars, the paint on the rest of the crib was chipped and faded. Michiko plunked herself down on the cot. Two rough grey blankets lay folded at the foot of the bed. This must be my room, she thought. The springs below the thin worn mattress screeched. She bounced a few times to listen as she looked up at the ceiling. A long piece of string dangled from the single electric bulb with an enamel cuff. There were no sunburst swirls of white stucco like the ones on her bedroom ceiling at home.
She removed her coat, unbuttoned her blouse and stepped out of the wool skirt. She looked around. There was no closet. She took off the green plaid dress and folded her clothes into a neat pile on top of the blankets.
“Ted,” she heard Auntie Sadie shout.
Michiko raced down the stairs.
Her
