Shimura Trouble (23 page)

W
E MADE THE
most of every last moment to love each other, then drove back to the Leeward Side, holding hands most of the way. When I arrived home, my father greeted us cordially, and did not say a word about the missing night. I was grateful for Japanese discretion—the art of ignoring the obvious, and for letting water wash everything away.

I swung into dutiful-daughter mode, preparing a luncheon salad of local cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce. As I started chopping, my father invited Michael to stay to eat with us, but he begged off because of a lunch appointment at Pearl Harbor. It was probably just as well because right after he left, my father dropped the information that Uncle Hiroshi and Tom would meet Hugh for a round of golf at Turtle Bay on the North Shore.

“Otoosan, I guess you’re the only one who’ll be able to come with me to see Harue’s cottage,” I said ruefully. “That is, if we can still go. Won’t Hiroshi and Tom need the minivan?”

“We can drop them off, and then use the car ourselves. And thank you for including me, Rei. After all the research we’ve done, I’d very much like to see the house.”

As we washed dishes, I relayed what Josiah Pierce had told me about Harue’s brave and painful family history, and how he’d found confirmation of the sale of the house—a sale that could never have been legally made because of the military maps that included the house.

“When are you going to tell Yoshitsune?” my father asked at the end.

“I thought I’d wait until I had the written documents,” I said. “Then, Yoshitsune will have as much of the story as exists and can draw his own conclusions. This afternoon I just hope the house visit will allow him a bit of closure.”

COURTNEY WAS FEEDING
the fish in the koi pond when we pulled up in the minivan, a few minutes before the time Uncle Yosh had suggested. She cocked her head and looked me up and down.

“You look good for someone who’s been sick. It’s like your face is pinker, but it’s not sunburn.”

“Thank you, Courtney.” I wasn’t about to tell a teenage girl my personal recipe for glowing skin. I felt different inside, too, thanks to an extra two hours in bed with Michael.

“You want to try?” Courtney asked, handing my father the box of fish flakes.

He shook a few in the water, and we all laughed as the patterned orange and cream fish swarmed to him. It was fun to watch them, and sent me back to memories of similar ponds in Japan. I said to Courtney, ‘I can’t tell where the extension is that Braden’s digging.”

“That’s because it’s finished! Look over there—he did nothing but dig the last several days. Dig, and cry.”

“Oh, Courtney. He’s really worried about his future, isn’t he?”

“He doesn’t show it to people. But when he’s alone, I see it. He’s very scared.”

When Braden and Yoshitsune came outside, I left the fish and opened up the Odyssey, requesting that Braden sit next to me and read the map. I explained, ‘These maps are really complex, and I don’t want to strain the older gentlemen’s eyes.”

“I could do it, too!” Courtney piped up, from the very rear of the minivan, where she was sitting with Tom.

“I know that, Courtney. You may navigate for us on the way back.” Truth be told, I was going to use the handheld GPS once I arrived there, and mark the point as a way station. I would bring Michael back to see the place at sunset that evening, perhaps with a bottle of champagne.

“OK.” Braden shrugged, and took the first map I gave him. “So we go into Barbers Point, huh? That’s simple. The guard booths are always empty.”

Braden knew his way around Barbers Point better than Uncle Yoshitsune, because in his day it had been closed. Yosh told us, ‘Planes taking off there, day and night. Never know exactly what’s going on.”

“Who was Barber, some famous American Navy pilot?” I asked, looking around at the ink-black, burned fields.

“No, no,” Uncle Yosh said. “He was a very bad sailor.”

“Like a pirate?” Courtney asked.

“No. I mean he was an English captain who tried to land ashore in bad weather. Everyone on the ship told him, don’t even try, too dangerous, but he was in a hurry and wound up wrecking his ship here. Everybody died.”

As I was thinking, how could anyone know what the people aboard told the captain, if they’d all died?, Courtney asked, ‘Do you think we can find bones, Jii-chan?”

“No, Courtney. It was long-ago times, maybe 1600s. Bones all gone by now.”

Don’t let the house be gone, too, I thought. The picture that Edwin had taken to an appraiser had been about ten years old, and the place had been a wreck then. Winds could have finished it off.

“I don’t think we can go any farther,” Braden said, pointing to a Pierce Holdings sign about fifty feet ahead, with No Trespassing written underneath.

“Sure we can,” I said.

“The boy has a point. We could get in trouble.” Uncle Yoshitsune sounded regretful.

“Will you let me see the map?” I stopped the car and put it in park, so I could make myself comfortable while I looked. “Yes, just as I thought. We’re definitely on military land; Pierce Holdings’ sign is incorrect.”

“But that’s not what Pierce Holdings thinks,” Braden said. “Albert Rivera’s got video cameras everywhere, and field glasses.”

“If I’m prosecuted, I can win the case in court, based on these maps. Besides, I don’t think Josiah Pierce would do anything to us.”

“Turn left,” Braden interrupted as we came to a crossing of dirt roads.

I wasn’t sure about that, but I followed the directions and drove for a few minutes with blackened fields on either side, until I saw cars whizzing by on H-1.

“We’re supposed to be driving toward the water,” I said.

“Just following the map,” Braden said brightly. “You still want me to navigate, or what?”

“Whatever fool map you’re following is wrong,” Yoshitsune said. “I remember now, turn back and go the other way at the crossing.”

“We shouldn’t have come out here,” Braden mumbled. “I’m in enough trouble already; you want to pile on some more?”

“This is perfectly legal,” I said, and as we drove on, I was pleased to see the fields and trees appeared only singed, not burned to the ground. So the fire had petered out; this boded well for the house.

“I’m excited,” my father said, from the back seat with Courtney. “And look, Uncle Hiroshi’s camcorder is still in its case here, though I’m not sure I know how to use it.”

Courtney begged my father to let her use the camcorder, and soon she had her window down and was recording the sights with her own commentary on the side.

I glanced sideways at Braden, who was looking grimmer than I’d seen him since we’d left the police station. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want to come. It’s just that you must be with a family member at all times—”

“Yeah, yeah. OK, the map says a left at the fork in the road—‘

“No!” Uncle Yoshitsune called from the back. “I know this place. Stay straight.”

I followed Uncle Yoshitsune’s advice, driving slowly and taking in the surroundings. Clearly this area hadn’t been used to grow sugar, because the grasses were so long and there were many old trees, the scraggly wili-wili in addition to the usual kiawe, and flowers that looked native. A showering of passion fruit lay on the path before us, and I steered around it, planning to pick up the unexpected bounty on the way back.

“On the way back, let’s gather any good fruit that’s fallen. I’m sure the Navy won’t mind,” I said.

“If we get back,” Braden said ominously.

“There, there I see it! A small house,” my father cried, and everyone turned to look out the left windows where, in front of the brilliant Pacific, stood a weathered gray cottage listing slightly to one side.

“No, that can’t be it,” Braden said. “Keep on.”

“I’m not sure,” Yoshitsune’s voice was low. “My house, it was white, not gray like that.”

“Time takes its toll,” I said, slowing to a stop, to allow him a chance to look. After a few moments, he responded. “That’s the mango tree Kaa-chan planted. Hey, still bearing mangoes, after all these years.”

“Well, we’ve seen it, now let’s head back. There’s a TV show at three I want to catch,” Braden said.

I ignored Braden and proceeded the last few yards to the house, where I put the car in park and set the waypoint, before turning off the ignition. “Come on, everyone. Let’s get out and take a good look. Courtney, bring that camcorder, OK?”

I pressed the button to roll back the side doors, and my father and Uncle Yosh disembarked.

“Don’t step on the porch, it looks like you could fall straight through,” I warned.

“Yes, yes,” my father soothed. “Don’t worry so much, Rei-chan. Come out and see for yourself.”

“I’m not going,” Braden said, after I got out of my side and walked around the car to his.

“Fine. That’s your choice.” I gave him one last pitying look, then walked toward where my family had gathered on the straggly weeds outside the front of the house. “See, here are the flowers my mother planted,” Yoshitsune said, pointing to a twisted little hibiscus plant that had somehow survived. Hibiscus: a lovely imported but hardy flower, like Harue herself.

“And if you continue round the house, you’ll see our old vegetable garden.” Uncle Yoshitsune was leading the tour, and we all followed him around to the back, paralleling rutted tire tracks that seemed to end at the back, and an opening where a door must once have been.

“Oh dear,” said my father. “It looks like the door was broken, and someone has made a terrible mess inside.”

We stood there gaping at piles of rock, in varying shades of gold and brown, and sizes ranging from plate-sized to doorstop. The piles were roughly grouped by color.

“The lava rock,” I said at the same time I heard the minivan’s engine. I bolted around the corner of the house, only to see Braden reversing the Odyssey, turning sharply, and driving off in a cloud of dust.

“Where’s he going?” Uncle Yosh yelled. “Who that boy think he is, driving alone? He only got a learner’s permit.”

Courtney followed the progress of her brother with the camera. “Wow. He’s going to get it, when Dad gets home!”

How were any of us going to get home? That was the question. All thoughts of spending a leisurely few hours on Yoshitsune’s old property were gone. It was hot, and we had two elderly people with health risks facing a trek of almost an hour to the gas station in the developed section of Barbers Point. If I were in better shape, and with the proper shoes, I could have run the distance to get help, but I imagined that I was as likely to wind up with heat exhaustion as anyone else in the group.

“Do you know the number for a taxi service around here?” I asked Uncle Yosh, relieved that at least my cell phone was with me, although the battery was low after my long conversation with Josiah Pierce the evening before.

“Nobody gonna find their way here,” Yosh said. “And even if they might, drivers know better than to come in to a place marked no trespass. They don’t have that same kind of map that Braden got with him in the minivan, yah?”

Now I thought of Albert Rivera, with the field glasses and surveillance cameras that Braden had mentioned. If he came upon us, we wouldn’t have the maps to explain anything. I doubted that Rivera would shoot a group of unarmed visitors, but he could be nasty enough to give my father high blood pressure, or worse.

I knew Michael would have wanted me to call him. But I also knew that at this moment he was having lunch with his JAG friend, and the last thing I wanted to do was alert the Navy’s legal division that Michael had given us maps of their land. And even if Michael tried to find us, he didn’t have the maps either, to follow our route, and his convertible could only take three passengers.

It was all such a mess, but I could see why Braden had taken off. Here was the thing that had gotten him in trouble, staring him straight in the face. He ran the risk of being caught red-handed, looking as if he was up to trouble again.

The sound of a loud engine drew near, breaking into my rambling, panicked thoughts. It could be Braden returning, or Alberto Rivera, maybe even with Mitsuo Kikuchi on board.

“Let’s go by the rocks. Nobody see us there,” Uncle Yosh said, as if reading my thoughts.