“Paul Morrison, one of the guys at work, drew it.” Michiko heard her father’s giant sigh. “He was showing me where his aunt Edna lived. It’s near one of my favourite fishing spots.”
“Near the Kootenay River?” Eiko asked.
“He drew it so I could visit next time I went fishing.” He sighed again. “It was just a simple scrap of paper. I can’t believe how much trouble it caused.”
“How did anyone know you had it?” asked Eiko.
“It fell out of my pocket when I stopped to buy the goldfish.” He sighed again. “The owner of the pet store must have reported me.”
“Stupid goldfish,” Sadie berated. “It should be named Trouble instead of Happy.”
Michiko raised the tips of her fingers to her mouth. Sadie was not being nice.
“Thank goodness Mr. Riley vouched for me,” her father said. “He said that if they took me away now, he would make trouble. He has a business to run.”
Michiko silently clapped her hands for Mr. Riley. He was the likeable man who was her father’s boss. Last year he’d given her a china tea set for Christmas.
The talking stopped. Michiko turned to go back to bed, but the voices continued. She paused again to listen.
“I have to go, you both know that. The government’s ordered all Japanese-born men out.”
No one spoke.
Michiko tried to imagine what these men of the government looked like. Why were they ordering her father out? Out of where?
“Sadie,” Sam asked, “what will you do?”
“I’m staying right here from now on,” Sadie replied in a whisper. “It’s not safe where I live. Besides, Eiko will need my help. Sisters stick together.”
“Thanks,” Michiko heard her father say. Then he asked, “And what about Geechan?”
“My father will be difficult,” her mother said. “He thinks he is strong enough to work alongside the others.” Eiko sighed. “He’s waiting to be called, but they won’t take him. He’s too old.”
“You all must stay together,” Sam said. “I will talk to him.” There was a long moan as he stretched. “Let’s get to bed,” he said. “We need all the rest we can get.”
Michiko scurried back to her bed and huddled to the side by the wall, fearful of giving herself away and frightened by the strange conversation.
Three
Only Ten Days
Sadie studied her niece’s picture. “You are turning out to be quite the artist,” she said before shoving the crayons to one side to make room for the teapot.
Michiko grimaced.
“Say thank you,” her mother admonished.
“Thank you,” Michiko mumbled. She wanted to finish the picture she was making for her father. It was her favourite part of the story of Peach Boy.
Geechan, her grandfather, handed her mother the morning mail. He lived with them now, like Sadie. Hiro’s crib was in Michiko’s room, and Sadie and her mother shared a bed. Having Geechan around helped Michiko forget that her father was in the mountains. He always wore a smile on his wrinkled chestnut face.
Eiko opened a letter. After scanning it for a minute, she said, “Ted’s written to tell us about his big plans.”
“Our brother always has big plans,” complained Sadie.
“He says that since he’s lost his boat, he’s leaving Port Rupert.”
“How did Uncle Ted lose his boat?” Michiko asked in surprise. “Did he forget to anchor it? Did it float away?”
Her mother did not answer. She continued to read the letter silently. “He’s found work,” she said instead.
“Where?” asked Geechan.
“I don’t know exactly,” her mother replied. “He says it’s somewhere in the interior.”
“He can’t build boats in the interior,” Sadie scoffed. “What is he up to?”
Eiko read aloud. “The owner of the shipyard, Mr. Masumoto, is the building supervisor. I am one of the carpenters he is taking along.” Her mother stopped reading. Michiko could see her eyes scanning the words. Then she continued. “We will help to build a new hospital, along with,” she paused, “several small houses.”
“Several small houses,” Sadie added. “You know who they are for, don’t you, Eiko?”
Eiko shrugged, folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. She placed it in the pocket of her apron.
She never reads the entire letter out loud any more, Michiko thought. She only reads bits and pieces to me. She has even stopped letting me read them on my own. There were so many secrets and mysteries in their house these days.
Michiko thought about her goldfish’s new home on the window sill. Where had the slim wood cabinet with the curved legs gone? She had loved to open and close the two big ivory knobbed wooden doors when the radio was not in use. Some of their beautiful hangings and paintings were no longer on the walls, and their cabinet of blue porcelain vases was almost empty. The camera had disappeared, and no one tried to find it.
Geechan took Michiko by the hand. The skin of his hands was paper-thin and the bones birdlike. He led her to the kitchen door and pointed to the cherry tree in full bloom. “We have only ten days,” he told her.
“Why only ten days?” Michiko asked.
“Cherry blossoms open all at once,” he explained. “In Japan, the petals last only ten days.”
“But that’s in Japan,” Michiko protested. “This is a Canadian tree. It will bloom longer.”
Geechan sighed. “A cherry tree is a cherry tree,” he said, letting go of her hand.
Michiko decided to keep track of the days, the way they did at school. On the calendar, she drew a cherry blossom. She would draw a blossom each day the tree was in bloom.
She felt Geechan’s hands on her shoulders. “What day will we have our hanami?” he said into her ear. She could smell his strange mix of soap and fish.
“What’s that?”
“In Japan, people celebrate the opening of the cherry blossoms.” He opened his arms wide. “They have picnics under the trees.”
Michiko’s eyes lit up. She turned to her mother. “May we have a hanami?”
Her mother lifted her hands from the bubbles in the sink and wiped them on her apron. “We only have one tree,” she said. Then she
