Chapter Text
Late July 1933, Humboldt County
"Kyoshi! Kyoshi! You all right!" Kyoshi was lying down. Her head hurt, and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. There was something gritty digging into the side of her face. She opened her eyes to see a high-cheekboned woman frowning at her in concern.
"Kirima," she said, and Kirima sighed.
"Ah, thank goodness you're alive." She stood up, put her fingers between her lips, and whistled. Then she crouched down again. "What happened? Sit up, here." She pulled Kyoshi's arm and she reluctantly obliged, dragging herself upright and bracing her back against a tree.
"Nothing happened," Kyoshi said.
"Nonsense. Your face is cut." Kirima put a gentle finger on it. Kyoshi blinked. "Was it Yun? Did he knock you—"
"No!" Kyoshi said, finding new energy in defending her husband. "I just sat down to rest. I must have fallen asleep."
Kirima raised an eyebrow, but made no objection. She stood up again and looked around, then repeated her whistle. After a few minutes, Wong came hurrying up the hill, the same one that had been the last straw for Kyoshi.
"Kyoshi!"
"I'm fine, I just fell asleep." Kyoshi struggled to her feet, using the tree for support. She took a second to breathe—she was dizzier standing. The sun was disappearing, she hadn't eaten since morning, and her stomach was churning. She took a step towards home.
"Uh-uh-uh," Kirima said. "You're through. Wong—"
Kyoshi realized what they wanted to do. "Not over your shoulder, please," she said to Wong. He nodded and got on one knee. She climbed onto his back, too tired to argue with them. Her legs hung almost straight down.
Kirima grabbed Kyoshi's skirt hem and yanked it up. "Don't worry about it, nobody's around." And off they went—not very fast, but surely, getting closer to home with every step.
Wong was nearly Kyoshi's height, and heavier than her. He was warm and strong and was carrying her just because he thought she needed it, ignoring his own fatigue from picking berries. A memory floated up in her mind, of a night nearly twenty years ago, when she'd worn out her legs chasing frogs.
She began to sniffle. She turned her face away from Kirima and stared into the dimming trees. She tried to be as quiet as she could, but it didn't take long for her brother to feel her shuddering.
"What's wrong?" he asked. He stopped and hoisted Kyoshi higher.
She sniffed openly, caught. She tried to think. It had been one of the happiest nights of her life. Her dad and her and nobody to interrupt. The cold, which broke like a wave against her sturdy coat, his arms, the fireplace and cups of tea. She hadn't caught any frogs, and she couldn't care less.
Kyoshi, now nearly thirty, held a sob in the back of her throat. "I miss him," she said, almost in a whimper.
"Who?" Kirima demanded. What was her problem? Kyoshi wondered. She'd only answered Wong's question.
"Kelsang," she said.
"Oh." Kirima relaxed Wong resumed walking. "You know," she said with her voice light, "I'm not sure if I've ever met him. Maybe you could introduce me."
They said no more until they were home. The rickety building had never looked so inviting to Kyoshi. She let go of Wong's shoulder, he of her knees. She slid down to standing and patted her skirt.
"They're home!" Lek bellowed. He had been sitting on the porch, waiting. Rangi whirled around from the back of the house. Kyoshi could see the relief on her face as she approached.
"Where have you been!" she scolded Kyoshi. Her arms were tight around her.
"I fell asleep," Kyoshi said.
Rangi stepped back and looked her over. "You're cut. Come on, I'll clean you up and you can tell me what happened." She took Kyoshi's hand and led her to the house.
"I'm sorry." Kyoshi knew she hadn't done anything wrong other than make her family worry, but Rangi's eyes seemed to order her to apologize.
"Momma!" Suki and Mingxia had come in the back door. They hugged her, and didn't seem to want to let go.
"I'm here. I'm fine." Her girls, her beautiful little daughters Kyoshi could feel her eyes welling up again. After all they'd seen, they were soft-hearted still. One day—with luck—they'd be women, and they'd have to face the world alone.
Where was that from? I'm tired, Kyoshi thought, just tired and nervous. She broke away from her babies and let Rangi drag her upstairs.
A change was in order. Kyoshi's clothes were dusty from falling. She shoved them aside and sat down on the bed—at last—in her nightgown. Rangi got a cloth, soap, and a bowl of water. She began to clean Kyoshi's cut first. It stung, but was overshadowed by the peace of being home, cared for, and relatively warm.
Rangi cleaned the cut without a word, intent and firm but also gentle. Kasuka came to check on his mother, and left. It was a rare moment in this house—two people having a quiet moment to themselves.
When she was done, Rangi ordered Kyoshi up, to wash her face and hands, and then back to bed. Kyoshi looked up at her hopefully. She wanted someone to put an arm around. But Rangi remained standing, in her full daytime suit.
"Don't fall asleep just yet," she said. "I'm going to call the doctor."
Kyoshi's heart jolted at "call" and relaxed at "doctor." She would not be further interrogated today. She lay back and waited. She focused on the window and the gray light coming in. It was lonely, she thought—after all her wishing for peace and quiet, now she was lonely.
Rangi must be outside now, she thought—off to the neighbor's to call the doctor. She stood up slowly, not wanting to fall again. Maybe in all the commotion, the family had forgotten Shizuo. She had to check.
There he was, sitting in his room. He looked up at her as she entered. "Hello, dear," she said. He did not smile at her, but she thought he was happy to see her.
She'd had a thought of combing his hair, but it slid from her mind. She sat next to him on his mattress. She realized too late that she was on his left, and that he could see her cut. He stared at it.
"I'm sorry I was gone," she said. "I'm all right, sweetie. I just fell over."
Would he believe her? Kyoshi's son only grunted—she couldn't tell. When she made her excuses to people downtown, they believed her, as far as she knew, but when she told her family truthfully that she'd been hurt on accident, they doubted. She remembered how quickly the police had let her go from their investigation into Jianzhu's death. She was too much trouble, too unreliable.
"Are you cold in here?" she asked. "Shizuo. Is it cold?" He'd taken of all but his pajama pants and an untucked shirt, but she knew that he'd ignore cold air if it meant he wasn't constricted. She thought back to when he was little, warm days when he could fling it all off.
She and Yun had been newly married then. Jianzhu's face would redden and Yun would roar with laughter at his son. He'd had high hopes for the stoic little boy. He'd tell him wild stories, not caring that he didn't respond. But Shizuo would sit and listen. He'd never been deaf. They only wanted to believe he was a normal boy behind his silence.
Kyoshi wouldn't cry in front of Shizuo. She knew he'd conclude, whatever she said, that his father was to blame. So she stood up and asked him whether he'd like to get out of this room.
He followed her out and made for the stairs. She watched him go, trying not to blame him. He hadn't been out on his own in too long. Or maybe he wanted to see his brother. She returned to the bed Rangi had put her in. She mustn't fall asleep… she must wait for the doctor….
"Kyoshi. Kyoshi." It was dark outside now—a lamp lit Rangi and the doctor. The doctor! Oh no, she'd not meant to fall asleep!
"I'm sorry," she said to Rangi. But she was not angry. Kyoshi rubbed her eyes and sat up, leaning against the wall and being careful of the hem of her nightgown.
The doctor smiled. He set his bag down on the top of a cabinet, found it too high for him, and set it on his chair instead.
"You fainted," he said.
"No," Kyoshi said. Rangi sat down next to her and took her hand. Kyoshi appreciated her company—it gave her the courage to talk to the doctor. "I sat down on the ground to take a rest. I fell asleep, and I guess I fell sideways. That's how I cut my face." Rangi's hand was warm. So warm.
"Hm," the doctor said. "Are you hungry?"
"No. I must be nervous. I've had no appetite." It suddenly occurred to Kyoshi—the tearfulness, the insensible sleep, the nonsensical revulsion—that she was going insane. Cracking. She stopped talking. If she was right, she didn't want Dr. Kishitani to know.
"She hasn't been eating," Rangi said. The doctor looked between them. "I meant," he said, "is there enough to eat?"
Kyoshi shook her head. There was nothing for the men to do but pick shriveled fruit and haul things around the farms, and nothing at all for Rangi and Kirima.
"Well. You may just have been hungry. Do you feel ill?"
She nodded. The doctor waited. "Tired. Queasy. My throat's hurt."
"Let me see." He leaned close, put a hand on her jaw to open it. He turned her so that he could see better by the lamp's light. She pulled away, disliking being steered.
"Taller people need more food," Dr. Kishitani said. "You—and the other tall fellow—should eat more than the children. Do you work?"
She shook her head.
"What about your husband?"
"I think he works in a warehouse in town."
"You think?"
"I know he did three weeks ago. That's the last time I saw him." She was looking at the doctor, but only out of protocol, not really paying attention. He opened his mouth but Rangi cut in.
"I thought you were here to examine my friend, not interrogate her."
"Right." The doctor smiled again. He got out his stethoscope, listened to Kyoshi's heart and lungs. "You have children?" he asked.
"Yes. Shizuo, Kasuka, Suki and Mingxia—Mingxia I’m fostering."
"Your date of birth?"
"November twenty-fifth, nineteen-o-three."
"Your husband's?"
"July ninth, nineteen-o-four."
"Your oldest child?"
Kyoshi's head was beginning to hurt again. "January twenty-eighth, nineteen-twenty. That's Shizuo."
"Your youngest?"
"January first, nineteen-twenty-six. Suki."
"Did they go all right—their deliveries?"
"Yes."
He asked a few more questions and began to pack away his medical things. "You have a cold," he said. "Be sure to eat, and call me in a week if you aren't better."
"Momma?" Suki found her as soon as the doctor was gone. She climbed in between Kyoshi and Rangi, going via the foot of the bed because she knew Rangi didn't want to be climbed over.
"Yes?" Suki's wide blue eyes were pointed up at her. Kyoshi smiled.
"Are you sick?" She was concerned, but Suki still adjusted herself between her mother and Rangi. She was usually in a more crowded bed. She might not have been tired, but she was taking advantage now of the dearth of elbows.
"A little bit," Kyoshi said. "I'll be better soon." She put her face to Suki's dark red hair. It was utter bliss here, as though nothing troublesome in the outside world could get past Rangi on one side and the window on the other.
"Are you hurt?" Suki asked.
"No, sweetie, not at all."
"Oh. Did Daddy get you in the face?" Seven years old and a master boxer in the schoolyard. Kyoshi patted her daughter's back.
"No, Suki, your Daddy would never hurt me."
Rangi snorted.