When the Cherry Blossoms Fell (12 page)

The freezing rain pelted against the farmhouse like stones hitting the window.

Eiko got up to stir the large pot of soup on the stove. Geechan moved to the bench to whittle, and Sadie picked up a skein of yarn and began to knit.

The silence was profound as the storm lashed at the wooden farmhouse. The light bulb overhead sputtered and went out. The clicking needles stopped, and the room was full of shadows.

“I hope Ted's all right,” Sadie said.

“Where is he?” Michiko asked.

“He left town to find work.”

“How long will he be gone?” Michiko cried. She feared the men from the government. Was Ted on his way to the mountains as well?

“Who knows?” Sadie replied. The rain lashed against the window. She looked up. “By the looks of this weather, he won't be back soon.”

After dinner, there wasn't much else for Michiko to do but go to bed. She climbed the stairs slowly. Lately she had been dreaming about her old bedroom. Couldn't they just go back for a short visit? Couldn't they go back and get some of their things?

Michiko undressed in the dark. The icy rain continued to clatter against the windows. She closed her eyes.

The sound of the farmhouse door banging in the middle of the night woke her. Hiro's crib stood black in the moonlight. She lifted her head and listened. Her baby brother breathed softly.

Suddenly, a wailing howl came from beneath her window. Michiko sat straight up in bed.

There was a scurry of footsteps in the hall. A door opened, then closed. Her mother tiptoed in. She rearranged Hiro's small blue blanket.

“Are you awake?' her mother asked soothingly. There was another howl. Eiko wrapped her arms about her daughter. Hiro stirred.

Sadie appeared in the doorway. “Father's not in his room,” she said.

Michiko looked up at her mother. “I heard the door bang,” she said. “He must have gone to the outhouse.”

The three of them went downstairs. Michiko pulled on her coat and rubber boots. She opened the door, stepped carefully out on to the verandah and peeked around. A snowy white wolf stalked the small grey hut.
She could see its pointed ears and long tail clearly in the moonlight. She turned and ran inside.

“We need to open the summer door,” Michiko said. “Geechan can run to the root cellar.”

“It's probably frozen,” Sadie said.

“We have to try,” Michiko argued.

Sadie wrestled with the trap door while her mother lit the lantern. They descended into the cavern of chilled air. Michiko heard the scraping sound of the wooden bar coming off the door. She listened to them grunt and heave.

Sadie's head appeared in the opening of the floor. “Good thing he is thin,” she said breathlessly. “We can open it enough, I think.”

Michiko pulled out the large pail from under the sink. Then she took the kettle from the stove. She stepped out on to the verandah and sang her loudest. “
Sa-ku-ra
,” she sang as she clanged the pot and the kettle together.
“Sa-ku-ra,”
she screamed. She banged louder.

Hiro woke up and began to wail.
Good for you
, thought Michiko.
Make a lot of noise
.

The wolf backed into the orchard. Michiko knew she didn't dare go far from the door.

The door to the outhouse opened slightly. “Geechan,” Michiko called out, “run to the root cellar.” She banged the kettle against the pot again. She started to chant the words instead of singing them, “
Sa-ku-ra, Sa-ku-ra
.”

Hiro continued to howl.

Her mother appeared at her side. Using the broom, she knocked icicles from the roof. They clattered and
smashed around them. She joined in yelling,
“Sa-ku-ra, Sa-ku-ra.”

The wolf turned and loped towards the creek.

“Now, Geechan,” Michiko called out. “Run.”

Her grandfather dashed to the root cellar, and Sadie pulled him inside.

Michiko dropped the pail and kettle. Her mother lowered the broom. They stumbled inside. When Geechan emerged from the root cellar, Michiko ran to him. He wrapped his arms about her.

“
Arigato
,” he said. “
Arigato, arigato
.”

Sadie slammed the trap door shut and heaved several logs onto the coals. Then she stood in front of the stove with her hands on her hips. “I was going to make some tea,” she said.

Michiko looked up at her with twinkling eyes. “The kettle is outside.” She winked at Geechan and said, “Go and get it.”

Monday was washday. Sadie hauled the water from the creek and heated it on the stove. Even though it was winter, she hung the laundry outside. The sheets started out limp, froze stiff then went limp again.

Michiko watched her aunt checking the tea towels for stains at the galvanized tub. Sadie's fingertips were coarse and her nails ragged. With Ted gone, Sadie chopped wood and filled the shed beside the kitchen. Michiko's job was to keep the box beside the stove full.

The wind howled in the eaves and through every chink. The small long-needled pine trembled in its bucket of sand. There was always a slight breeze in the house. Michiko wore her
hanten
over her clothes as she passed the time folding paper cranes as ornaments for the tree.

“I'm going to fold a thousand paper cranes,” she announced. “That way my Christmas wish will come true.”

Eiko sat at her sewing machine, her hand on the wheel with the needle poised midair, staring straight ahead. There was a ghost of a frown on her face. Her soft brown eyes looked troubled.

Michiko picked up her small pile of finished cranes
and took them to her mother's side. Eiko broke from her reverie. She removed a needle from the red tomato pin cushion and put a thread through the ornament. She tied it off and handed it back.

“Maybe you should make three thousand,” Sadie suggested, “just to be sure.”

The crane floated and turned about the branch Michiko hung it from. “The tree is too small for three thousand,” she said. “We need to leave room for the candles.”

“Candles,” Sadie scoffed. “The last thing we need is to burn down the house.”

Eiko handed Michiko a second threaded crane.

“Can we light just a few candles,” Michiko pleaded, “only for a short while?”

“We will see,” her mother murmured as she returned to her chair.

There was a knock at the door. Michiko looked at her aunt in surprise before she answered it.

A tall man wearing a leather apron and puttees stood at the front door. A long brown woollen scarf covered his neck below a brown felt cap. A pencil stuck out from behind his ear.

“Your mom home?” he asked. Then he laughed at his own question. “Guess she would be in this weather.”

Michiko gasped at what stood behind him. Two huge white dappled horses wearing heavy black studded collars took up most of the road. A long flat blue sleigh bore the letters “CPR” painted in white.

Eiko came up behind. Sadie almost pushed the two of them onto the porch to see.

“Morning, ladies,” the carter said, tipping his hat. “Looks like you got a special delivery.” He took a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and read it. “Is this the Minagawa household?” he asked. He put down a small canvas bag.

“The CPR is the railway,” said Sadie in astonishment.

“That's correct, ma'am,” replied the carter. “Normally you would have to come down to the station office in Nelson for pickup.”

The three of them looked at each other. How could they have managed that?

“Since I was taking the freight sleigh out of town,” he explained, “I thought I'd just bring it on up to you. The Clydesdales needed a good run.”

“Thank you,” Michiko's mother murmured.

The fierce barks of a dog startled them.

The carter turned his head to the sound. “That's Blackie,” he explained. “He rides along with me. He guards the freight.”

“I guess no one could hitch a ride on the back,” Michiko observed.

“Actually, that's not true, young lady.” He stepped aside.

Behind him stood Michiko's father.

Michiko rubbed her eyes. A grey wool cap drooped over his dark black hair, and his navy blue coat hung on his frame. The man was pale and thin, but it was her father.

Michiko's mother shrieked, “Sam!” and stepped into his arms. Michiko grabbed his legs, and Sadie clasped his hand. Then she ran inside and called out for Geechan.

“I guess we got the right place,” the carter murmured. “Best be on my way.”

Sam Minagawa turned to clasp the carter's hand, who then stepped down the wooden steps and headed for the sleigh.

Michiko dragged her father inside. Geechan pulled the blue wicker chair up to the stove and gestured him to sit. He patted Sam on the back several times.

Her mother ran upstairs to wake Hiro.

Sadie poured a cup of steaming tea and pressed the cup into Sam's hands. “Thank you, Sadie,” he said and took a great gulp.

“Did you finish building the road through the mountains?” Michiko asked.

Sam gazed at his young daughter before speaking. “Yes, I finished,” he said and gazed down into his cup.

Hiro looked at the man in the chair. He turned and buried his face in mother's neck. Then he looked back. Sam cocked his head to one side. “Hello, Hiro,” he said with a smile and cocked his head the other way. He smiled again. Hiro broke into a large frown. He turned and buried his face in mother's neck. Sam kissed him on the back of the head. He slumped back into the chair and closed his heavy-lidded eyes.

“They paid us twenty-five cents an hour,” he said. He fished in his shirt pocket, brought out a fold of pink bills and tossed it on the table. “Then they took money back for our keep.”

No one spoke.

Michiko dragged the quilt from the top of the sewing
machine and tucked it around her father's legs.

“So many nights,” he said, “I wished for a quilt like this.”

“You wouldn't have wanted this one,” Michiko said. “It keeps falling apart.”

Her father raised his eyebrows.

“I made this quilt after you left,” Eiko informed him. “It is a very special quilt.”

Sadie began to giggle. “It is the most valuable quilt in the world.” She lifted his hand to one of the red rectangles and said, “Just feel the quality of the material.” Sam ran his hand across one of the red silk patches. “Yes,” he said, “it is very smooth.”

“Now feel,” Eiko directed, “I mean, really feel, the quality of the gold patches.”

Michiko frowned. What was wrong with her aunt and mother? Why were they making her poor tired father play this silly quilt game? She watched her father rub his hand across one of the gold patches.

“Yes, it is smooth as well,” he said tiredly.

“But feel the texture of this one,” Sadie insisted. She lifted the corner to him.

Her father rubbed the patch listlessly, but stopped at the sound of a crunch. He grabbed the patch with his hand.

“We sold absolutely everything,” explained Sadie.

“Everything?” Sam asked.

“Auntie Sadie even sold her feathered hat,” chimed in Michiko, not knowing why.

“We sold the piano, all of the porcelains and the paintings,” her mother added. She stopped. Her hand
went to her throat, but she didn't say anything about her necklace.

Sam smiled and dropped his hand.

Michiko was glad when this silly game ended. She crept into its folds and put her head on her father's knees. He put his hand on her head and closed his eyes.

Her father was home, Michiko thought. Her family was together once again. She put her hand on top of one of the gold squares. It felt crunchy.

“Why is the quilt crunchy?” she asked.

“There's money inside,” her aunt informed her.

“Doesn't money belong in a bank?” Michiko asked. She was confused.

“We don't trust the banks,” snapped Sadie, “and if we had, where would we be now?”

Michiko looked at the quilt in amazement. If it was full of money, they could buy anything they wanted. They could buy train tickets back home.

January dragged by. Michiko no longer marvelled at the world of white. There was nothing to do but watch the pale sky, hoping it would soon turn blue.

At daybreak, there was a rap on the front door. “Sadie,” a voice called out urgently. Michiko sat up to listen. “Sadie, open up.”

Michiko heard the bolt slide back. Sadie must have been waiting. Instantly Michiko was out of her bed. She snatched her grey blanket and pulled over her
hanten
.

The murmur of low voices rose with the dawn as Michiko crept to the top of the stairs. She could see the beam of a flashlight bobbing up and down. What was going on? she wondered.

To her astonishment, the face that she saw in the light, just before it went off, was Ted.

“I was right,” Ted whispered. “There's nothing to go back to.”

“I already know that,” Sadie replied. “Eiko sold everything,”

“That's not what I mean,” he barked. “The house is sold.”

“What?” her aunt said. “How is that possible?”

“I told you the government would be selling everything off.”

“They have no right to do that,” Sadie hissed. “Eiko was told the government would look after the house. They said they would be custodians.”

“Eggs and vows are easily broken,” Ted reminded her in a quiet voice. “My boat was auctioned off long ago.”

Movement from her parents' bedroom sent Michiko scurrying back to her room. She tried to bury herself back in sleep but couldn't. All she could think about was the house with the cherry tree in the backyard.

Silently, she said goodbye to the things she thought would be waiting for her.

“Goodbye little top,” she said, thinking about the bright red metal sphere that spun when she pulled up the wooden handle and pushed it down. Hiro would have liked to play with that.