Rain Song by Alice J. Wisler

Author:Alice J. Wisler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2008-09-30T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Before Ducee starts another tale, I’d better tell her what I came here to say. Jump right in, I urge myself. It’s now or never. But the words seem stuck in my mouth, trapped back behind my molars.

Ducee provides a questioning look.

Okay, now or never. “You know how I want answers to what happened in Japan.”

Ducee gives a gentle nod.

“Well, I’ve found some things out.”

Ducee’s look reassures me that it is safe to continue. “The maid we had was the one who carried me from the fire.”

“Oh, I used to know her name. What is it?”

“Watanabe-san.” I have no idea how to pronounce the name, but hey, neither does my grandmother. “The fire started downstairs. That’s what Watanabe-san said.”

Ducee’s eyes grow wide. “You heard from Watanabesan?”

“Yes. No. Well, Harrison has talked with her.”

“Harrison?”

“He lives in Kyoto. He was born there. He’s an English professor at a university. His mom and Mama were friends.” I pause between each sentence, hoping something will make Ducee say, “Ah! I recall. I remember.”

“I see.” Ducee only nods.

Mama wrote letters to Ducee; didn’t she mention Harrison? “Harrison’s mom is named Rita.”

Ducee has either forgotten or Mama never wrote about these two.

“He grew up in Kyoto. His parents were missionaries like Mama and Father.”

It doesn’t seem like any buttons of recollection have been triggered for Ducee. She says, “I don’t remember hearing about a Rita.”

“Well, she and her son, Harrison, were often invited over for chutney. Mama served it on rice crackers.”

Ducee laughed. “Really? That Emma, she knew how to connect the East and West, didn’t she?” I smile as Ducee squeezes my hand. “So you have found some answers.”

Her eyes, framed by her bifocals, look exceptionally happy tonight.

I nod. “Oh, and even my scar.”

Ducee looks at me with a hopeful expectation.

“I fell off a swing. Harrison was pushing me at a park and a stray dog scared me. I either jumped or fell off the swing and hit a board with a nail in it.”

“Oh, my.” Ducee shakes her head. “No magic blessing from the Princess of Susunanastan.”

We laugh.

She reaches over to kiss my forehead, and her lips rest against my scar. “I have always thought that scar beautiful. I can’t imagine your face without it. It has given it character.” With hands in her lap, she speaks just above a whisper, “God gives us faces when we are born. They are innocent and pure, young and without a crease. As we grow, as we live life, we develop them, these faces. Yes, that’s it, yes. They develop us. Your scar is part of you and now you know its story.”

And I can’t forget Sazae. “She wasn’t from Mama,” I tell Ducee. “The maid gave her to me.”

Ducee searches my eyes. “I’m sorry.” She seems disappointed, just as I was, to learn this. “I assumed your mother bought you that doll.”

After a moment, Ducee pats my arm and whispers, “I bet you’re tired.”

I hadn’t thought about it, but now that it’s been mentioned, yes, I am.

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