Crimson Footprints (40 page)

She was eager to hear him,
to feel him. But as Deena rushed to his side, he held up a single
bruised hand stopped her. She drew back, confused.

Tak cleared his throat,
attempted to shift his body for comfort and thought better of it.
The words he’d speak would be hoarse and wreak havoc on his chest,
but he’d say them nonetheless. They would be the first words he
spoke to her, in this, his new life.

“
I love you, Dee.” He
cleared his throat again and pushed on despite the pain. “I’ve
never doubted that you were the woman for me.” He
paused.

“
I want to share my love
and my life with you, and if you’ll have me, I want you to be my
wife.”

With effort, he opened a
hand to reveal the Tanaka family ring. His father purchased the
band of white gold when he sought his mother’s hand in marriage.
Perched upon it was a polished natural pearl more than seven
generations old.
The lone valuable of a
once wealthy family, that pearl had seen the docks of America at
the turn of the 20th century, been buried in haste with the forced
internment of Japanese Americans, and would adorn the finger of one
more Tanaka woman, so long as he got the answer he
desired.

She answered in a whisper,
soft yet clear nonetheless. It was the word which had been in her
heart all along.

Yes.

CHAPTER
SIXTY-ONE

When John slipped into
Tak’s room, a day or so after his transfer from intensive care to
the general ward, he found Deena snoozing in an armchair and Kenji
by his brother’s side, flipping through an old and battered copy
of
Sports Illustrated.

“
I hear congrats are in
order,” John said, closing the door behind him.

Tak smiled. “Word travels
fast.”

“
Man, you should hear
Allison. You’ve got her ready to elope right now. She’s all ‘they
didn’t even know each other when we started dating!’” John shook
his head. “You try to make me look bad.”

“
Don’t have to try
hard.”

John leaned against the door
and gave Tak a once over. He had more beeping machines around him
than the Starship Enterprise and looked like someone had hurled a
can of whoop ass at him, but hell, he was alive, and for that,
nobody was more thankful than John.

“
Enjoying your vacation?”
John asked.

“
It’s great,”

Tak attempted to shift and
winced. “Just the break I needed from the monotony of
life.”

“
You got a break all right.
One for the leg, another for the ribcage.” He shook his head. “How
many bones you plan on breaking this year?”

Tak’s laugh was like wisps
of smoke, thin and barely there. “The plan was all, but I think
I’ll tap out now.”

John looked up and spotted
Kenji’s scowl. He knew the kid didn’t have the self-deprecating
sense of humor that he and Tak shared, so he took Kenji’s red-eyed
glare as a sign to back off the jokes. He’d never known Kenji to
hit anyone, but he wanted no parts of that just the same. Something
about being the test subject for a kid
The
Herald
claimed didn’t hit balls so much as
snipe them, didn’t exactly whet John’s appetite.

He glanced at Deena. “She’s
been here as long as I think?”

“
Longer
probably.”

“
Well, they’re all excited
out there. You should hear them cackling about spring colors and
summer weddings and caterers from L.A. or some shit.”

Deena stirred in her chair.
“Are they really?” she said.

John laughed. “Go out there
and talk to them. See for yourself. They’re ready to make you a
Tanaka tonight if you’ll let them.”

She sat up. “Are you…sure?”
She lowered her gaze. “Maybe they’re just being polite. I’ll bet
they’re being polite.”

John raised a brow. “Maybe
you weren’t paying attention in California, but the Tanakas tend to
be a blunt bunch.”

He tilted a head towards the
door. “Check it out. And take your new brother with you. I’d like
to shoot the shit with Tak.”

Deena rose, her smile shy.
When Kenji stood, he balled up the old issue of
Sports Illustrated
and tossed it in
the garbage. John raised a brow.

“
Babe Ruth, all time
greatest player.” Kenji rolled his eyes. “Gimme a
break.”

John grinned as they
disappeared into the hall, and as Kenji continued to mouth off
about Ruth’s impressive stats in a league that was all
white.

With the door closed behind
them, John turned back to Tak. He eyed his cousin with
interest.

“
Now how are
you?”

Tak sighed. “Tired. Sore as
hell.”

“
The other guy, the one
that hit you, he showed up with flowers back when you were still in
ICU. It took security and every orderly in the building to get our
dads off him.”

Tak rolled his eyes. “Your
dad, maybe. My dad was probably just trying to find an exit. I’m
sure he had a flight somewhere.”

Silence filled the room. In
it, John ventured over to the floral arrangements stacked on the
nightstand with overflow on the floor. He lifted one and admired
it. They were lilies or lilacs or something like that.

“
He offered me a job,” John
said.

“
When?”

“
When we were in
California. In-house tax attorney for the firm.”

“
You gonna take
it?”

John shrugged. “I’m thinking
about it. It’s more money than I’ve ever seen. Good even for an Ivy
League grad at the top of his class. And I wasn’t at the top of my
class.”

Tak sighed. “He talks with
money.”

“
You know, you’re right.
Problem is, he can’t get you to listen.”

John gave his cousin a wink,
snatched the remote from his hand and tossed it to far side of the
room. With a grin, he closed the door to the sound of Tak’s pained
laughter.

CHAPTER
SIXTY-TWO

Daichi sat in his home
office pouring over drafts and notes for a single project he'd
become obsessed with over the last few weeks. It should've been a
simple enough task—a public library, but something about the
designs bothered him. There was simply—something left to be
desired.

Lately, concentration was
something else left to be desired. Daichi’s mind insisted on
wandering to the moments after his son’s accident. The feelings of
helplessness, of inadequacy, of despair. Never had he felt so
impotent, so desperate. But when his son regained consciousness,
Daichi failed to do as most fathers would. He didn’t rush to his
son’s side, embrace him, and whisper words of fondness. Instead,
their encounter was brief and awkward, and when they parted, he was
left feeling empty and feeble. To that day, the feeling
remained.

*

After a series of
strengthening exercises in the full service weight room in his
parent’s home, Tak thanked his therapist for the visit, showered
and dressed, and went in search of his mother. In the hospital,
he’d spoken candidly with her about her drinking and the need to
quit. With the doctor’s promise that Tak would live came his
mother’s commitment to detoxification. A somber bit of reality
coupled with Alcoholics Anonymous meetings had given her two months
of sobriety.

The family maid told Tak
that his mother was out walking in the garden. Their ‘garden’ was
closer to arboretum than the patch of field most people toddled
around in planting herbs and lilacs. His body revolted against the
idea of search of her. He headed for the door.

Tak didn’t know what made
him stop to speak with his father. Maybe it was the way his office
door was cracked instead of welded shut. Maybe it was the glimpse
of him doing nothing, save staring at the wall that caused Tak to
pause and tap on the door.

He told him to come
in.

His father’s home office was
pretty big. The desk he sat at was broad and made of cherry wood,
the chair behind it leather and ergonomically correct. He’d pushed
back his pc’s flat screen monitor as if it annoyed him and piles of
paper were stacked neatly in its stead. On the far end, against the
wall, were a series of double wide cherry wood bookshelves,
polished to gleam. In one corner was a drafting table and the
various supplies his father used when he went old school—pencils, a
T-square and a compass. At the back of the office was a leather
couch, black and soft.

“
Got a sec?” Tak
said.

Daichi nodded. He pushed
away from his desk and turned to face his son. Tak hesitated. His
father didn’t usually stop working just because someone wanted to
have a word with him.

“
Mind if I sit?”

Daichi shook his
head.

“
Are you all right? You
don’t look well,” Tak said after a brief but awkward
silence.

“
I’m fine. How is your
rehabilitation going?”

“
Good.”

More silence. The two
glanced at each other, then looked away.

“
She liked the ring,” Tak
said suddenly.

Daichi nodded. “She should.
It’s three hundred years old.

Tak conceded the
point.

“
And the therapy? You said
that it’s going well?” his father asked again.

“
What? Oh, yeah, yeah. Pain
management. Breathing techniques, strength and endurance. That’s
the gist of it.”

“
And is there
much…pain?”

Tak shrugged. “Sometimes.
The incision site bugs me. You know, where they had to stick the
chest tube. And it hurts to cough. That kind of thing.”

“
I see. Well…let me know if
there is anything I can do help.”

“
Yeah. Okay.”

Tak cleared his
throat.

“
You know mom—mom’s stopped
drinking.”

Daichi turned back to his
desk. “Is that right? Is that what she’s taken to saying these
days?”

Tak’s gaze narrowed. “She
hasn’t had a drink since the day of the accident.”

His father unraveled a
draft. “Perhaps.”

Tak stood, scowling. “There
is no ‘perhaps.’ She’s not drinking. She says she’s not drinking,
and I believe her.”

“
The woman is a drunkard,
Takumi. She revels in the feel of intoxication.”

“
She’s trying. Why can’t
you even give her that? Why can’t you give anyone
anything?”

Daichi sighed. “I don’t know
what that means, Takumi.”

“
It means that I’m sick of
you. I’m sick of you being so damned crass and indifferent. I’m
sick of you not giving a damn.”

“
And what would you like me
to give a damned about?” he said quietly.

“
Your wife! Your kids! Me!
I mean, come on, dad. I nearly die, and for you it’s just an
inconvenience in your schedule!”

Daichi swiveled to face him.
“Is that what you believe? That I care for no one? For
nothing?”

“
I know you
don’t!”

Daichi leapt to his feet.
“How dare you. How dare you come into my home and speak with
authority about what matters to me.”

He began to pace with the
heat of his fury.

“
When you lie dying in that
hospital it was me who was so overcome with grief that I could
neither eat, nor sleep, nor function. It was me who tortured
himself with every decision, every unspoken word, every measure of
affection I ever withheld from you. Me, who spent the night
weeping, even after hearing you were alive, as I lie there
convicted by every cross word I ever spoke to you. It was me,
Takumi. Your father, and no one else. And you have the audacity to
tell me that I don’t care for you? That I don’t love
you?”

“
And mom? Does she have to
die for you to love her, too? Is that what it takes?”

Daichi turned on Tak,
enraged. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’ve crossed the
goddamned line.”

“
Well I’m so sorry! I
didn’t know we recognized lines! Not since you habitually encroach
on mine!”

“
You think I didn’t love
your mother? You think I didn’t ever love your mother? You wouldn’t
even be here if I didn’t love your mother. Why don’t you sit down
and shut up about things that you know nothing about?”

Tak crossed his arms
defiantly.

“
Goddamn it, Takumi, I said
sit down!”

Reluctantly, Tak lowered
himself onto the couch, partially surprised his burst of
emotion.

Daichi faced him.

“
I loved your mother. I
loved your mother more than anything. She was beautiful, smart,
compassionate—she was everything I wanted in a woman. I worshipped
her.”

Tak’s eyes narrowed. “So
what the hell happened?”