His eyes narrowed as Michiko and her mother approached. He shook his head and held up his hand. With the other, he pointed down the track.
They walked past a few cars and stopped again. The same thing happened. Each time they tried to board the train, someone moved them along.
Her mother gave out a long sigh. She glanced back at Geechan in his best black suit and tie, wearing his bowler hat. He could not walk fast, having insisted on carrying the large furoshiki. The great square cloth held their bedding. There was a brand new quilt inside, one Michiko’s mother had worked on diligently since her father had left.
“Is something the matter with our tickets?” Michiko asked. Her mother gave her a tired look and didn’t answer.
Finally, they found their train. It sat back from the others, off to one side. The rusty, peeling, old engine towed only four cars. Three were passenger cars. The last car looked like a large wooden wagon. It was for the baggage.
Only Japanese people were aboard, all sitting up straight, staring ahead.
Michiko stepped over the railway ties onto the black oil-stained gravel. She tiptoed to keep her shiny black patent shoes clean.
They mounted the stained wooden steps, just as the train’s big iron wheels spun in place. It shrieked, puffed a billow of steam and jerked forward. Michiko stumbled and banged her knee. Someone caught her by the elbow and steadied her. Several people shuffled seats to let them all sit together. Michiko plopped down hard on one of the wooden benches just as the train moved forward.
“Where are we going?” Michiko asked for the third time that day. This was a very strange way to travel. Usually they went on vacation in their father’s car.
Eiko undid the pearl buttons of her pink wool jacket and took Hiro onto her lap. “To the country,” she said. She busied herself arranging Hiro. His hand reached for the grey grosgrain band of his mother’s felt hat. She tucked one of his hands beneath her arm. The other she put under the blue satin trim of his blanket. “We will be near the mountains,” she added.
“Father’s mountains?” asked Michiko hopefully.
“He’s in a different part of the Rockies,” was the response.
“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.”
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