The Hidden Flower: A Novel by Pearl S. Buck

Author:Pearl S. Buck
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781480421448
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

PART III

AT THE AIRPORT IN San Francisco Allen saw her descend and hesitate a moment, as looking from side to side she searched for him. He pressed forward through the small crowd, ashamed that he had been a moment late, ashamed that this morning of all others he had overslept.

“Josui!” he called.

She saw him and her face changed with her smile. For the first moment, seeing that sober anxiety upon the face he thought he remembered so well, he had felt a light but sharp disappointment. She was not quite as pretty as he had remembered her, or was it the gray suit she wore? But the smile, so charming in its reserve, brought her back again. She was distinguished by the smile and by the half-shy grace with which she moved toward him. He seized her in his arms, safe in the midst of strangers. Yet he was instantly aware of curious glances, aware that people were looking at a tall young American man embracing a Japanese girl. No one said a word, and all went about their business, too hurried to spare more than a second or two of curiosity. He led her along in the curve of his arm, ignoring the eyes of strangers. But she too was aware of the darting looks of surprise and she withdrew herself delicately, although she let him hold her hand.

“We’ll go straight to the hotel,” Allen said. “I’ve taken a suite there. We’ll stay a few days, darling. There’s no hurry. I want time—time—time with you. And we’ll take a long time to get home.”

By then they would know what to do. He would tell her exactly how everything was at home. That is, he would tell her insofar as he knew, but he knew almost nothing, although he felt a great deal. His mother had simply made up her mind, so far as he could see, to ignore everything. But how could she ignore Josui standing at the door? And he would he there beside her.

He brushed aside such thoughts. For these weeks they would be alone. He wished that Cynthia had not chosen to spend the season in New York. Cynthia could have been a great help. Well, he did not need help!

“You are very silent, darling.”

“There is so much I see.”

He had his car here and they climbed into it.

“It is yours, Allen?”

“It’s ours, darling. All that is mine is yours.”

She smiled, and he reached for her hand.

“Better you drive carefully,” she said after an anxious moment.

He laughed. “This is America, Josui. Have you forgotten it?”

But he went slowly, for so he could fondle her little hand with his gold signet ring upon it, the ring he had put on her finger at the ceremony in the temple. That night, when they were alone in that shadowy beautiful room in the house now far away from them both, he had taken the ring from her finger and put it on again. Then he had repeated the sacred words, “With this ring, I thee wed.

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