Dolls of Hope (14 page)

C
hiyo thought of the girls who were shopping today because they weren’t invited to meet the mayor. Should she take them all?

How could she invite Hoshi, even to add good weight to that scale?
She pictured Hoshi alone in the hotel, fuming while the others visited the doll maker. Maybe Hoshi would think before being mean to someone after that.

But she couldn’t help remembering Hoshi’s father scolding her for not being a good leader. What would he say if she was the only one not invited to the doll maker’s workshop? Maybe he would say,
This is not the way of a leader,
making her feel less important than the smallest fish in the stream.

Chiyo didn’t want to think of that because when she did, she imagined herself in Hoshi’s place and how it must feel to have a father who demanded so much while showing no kindness.

“Well, Miss Tamura,” the mayor asked again, sounding amused but a little impatient, “is the decision difficult? Who will you take with you?”

“All the girls,” Chiyo said, hardly believing that she was including Miyamoto Hoshi. “I would like all six of us to go, please.” She drew a quick breath. “And our two teachers, too.”

“You are a young lady with a warm heart, as we already know.” The mayor nodded toward his aide. “The arrangements will be made. Will tomorrow afternoon meet your approval?”

Chiyo looked quickly at Sensei, feeling all the plans collapse. “We’ve already stayed an extra day. We are to go home to Tsuchiura in the morning.”

Sensei shook his head. “We will prolong our visit for yet another day.”

How easily plans could be changed. At home, life moved on a schedule. If you did not feed the goat on time, there would be no milk and the goat would cry. But here, it seemed that plans changed easily and no one was even surprised.

When she returned to the hotel with Emily Grace in her arms, Chiyo felt as if she floated above the tatami. Maybe that was because Emily Grace seemed to float with her. “I’m so glad you’re going home with me,” she told the doll.

She was sure she saw the sweet smile widen.

“I wonder what Hoshi will say when she learns we will all visit the doll maker. What do you think, Emily Grace?” She bent her ear to the doll’s lips. “Oh, you think she will say something nice? I hope you are right.”

As she neared the room, she heard voices. The other girls were back from their shopping. She could hardly wait to tell them her news.

Hoshi was nearest when she opened the door from the hotel hall. Chiyo saw her crumple a newly purchased kimono jacket in her hands. “Is that . . . ? It is! It’s that doll! You stole that doll!”

“No,” Chiyo began, startled. It had never occurred to her that anyone would think she had just taken Emily Grace.

Hoshi tossed the jacket to a nearby cushion, talking too fast for Chiyo to get in a word to explain. “Miss Tamura, I fear you’ve brought shame on our school!”

“You don’t understand,” Chiyo exclaimed, thinking maybe she wouldn’t invite Hoshi to the doll maker’s after all.

“Of course I do.” Hoshi raised her voice. “Sensei, we have a problem with poor Miss Tamura. She has stolen that doll!”

“How could I steal her?” Chiyo was sorry she’d run ahead while Watanabe-sensei arranged with the hotel for another night. He would have cleared this up in a moment.

Oki-sensei rushed over with the other girls behind her. When she saw the doll, her mouth dropped open. “Oh! Oh . . .
oh.
” She groped blindly for a table and balanced against it.

Doesn’t she know me at all?
Shock turned Chiyo’s entire body cold. Never in her life had she taken something that didn’t belong to her. Except maybe Hoshi’s favorite chair that first day at school.

“Where is her crate?” Kimiko asked.

“And her suitcase and passport?” asked Shizuko.

Hana looked too stunned to say anything. Then she looked away.

They all think I’ve stolen Emily Grace! Even Hana!
Moments earlier, Chiyo had been looking forward to bringing Emily Grace to the hotel. This was her welcome? To be called a thief?

She was sure the imaginary koi in her stomach had not only sickened, but died. “Those things, the crate and the suitcase and everything, they’ve all been sent to the railroad station.”

“You saw her crate ready to be shipped,” Hoshi said, “and took her from it! Miss Tamura, you poor foolish girl.”

Chiyo raised the medal pinned to her collar. “Do you think I stole this?”

Sensei peered at the medal and slowly read aloud, “‘Official Doll Protector by appointment of the Mayor of the City of Tokyo.’ Miss Tamura, what does this mean?”

“It means I promised to protect her and I will.” Her earlier excitement rushed back and she exclaimed, “She’s going to our school . . . to Tsuchiura!”

“But how could that happen?” Sensei asked. “If you didn’t . . . just take her, how is it that you have her?”

The door was still open to the hallway. Watanabe-sensei stepped inside at last. “Have you told them the happy news, Miss Tamura?”

Chiyo turned to him in relief. “I tried. They don’t believe me!”

He put one hand on her shoulder as if to share the respect everyone felt for him. “Then I am pleased to reassure all of you. Our Tamura Chiyo won the heart of the mayor of Tokyo. She has won the hearts of people everywhere!”

Oki-sensei looked even more confused. “What are you saying?”

“Just this! The mayor has been hearing from people who saw the picture in the newspaper. Everyone wants this doll to go to Miss Tamura’s school. The mayor of Tokyo listens to the people, and he has arranged for Emily Grace to join us. Even better, Miss Tamura has been appointed the doll’s protector.”

He looked at Chiyo. “Have you shown them your medal?”

“Hai.”
It felt good to see belief come slowly into Oki-sensei’s eyes.

Yet envy in the other girls’ faces didn’t feel as satisfying as she’d expected. In her mind,
Okaasan
warned that boasting becomes sorrow when friends turn away. Chiyo decided not to tell them about the cash prize.

Still, she couldn’t resist upsetting Oki-sensei once more to pay her back for thinking she would steal Emily Grace. “My picture and my name will probably be in the newspaper again.”

“They certainly will be,” said Watanabe-sensei, as if announcing good news. “Our Chiyo made a great impression on the mayor. She represented the girls of Tsuchiura Girls’ School with exceptional grace. We can now say . . . as the mayor does . . . that Tamura Chiyo represents all the girls of Japan.”

Hoshi made a strangling sound. Chiyo enjoyed hearing it. “So you didn’t need to worry,” she told her astonished teacher, feeling a little spiteful.

“I . . . I am very glad to hear that,” Oki-sensei said.

“I’m relieved to hear it.” Hoshi’s sarcasm showed she was not one bit sorry for having accused Chiyo of theft.

Tomi and Shizuko looked at each other before Tomi said, “We’re proud of you, Chiyo. And the doll is coming to Tsuchiura! How wonderful!”

Hana gently touched Chiyo’s hand. “I’m sorry I believed Hoshi, even for a moment.”

“It’s all right,” Chiyo said. “I probably would have believed her, too.” But she didn’t think she would have believed Hoshi if the girl had accused Hana, not even for a moment.

She couldn’t stay disappointed for long. Everyone wanted to hear about her meeting with the mayor, although Hoshi pretended to be bored. The rest of the girls gathered around to admire Emily Grace, her blue eyes, her golden curls. “It’s real hair,” Chiyo said. “Just feel it!”

“So soft,” Shizuko marveled. “I wanted to touch one of the dolls when we saw them at the ceremony, but I didn’t dare.”

“Does she talk?” Tomi asked. “I’ve heard they do.”

“Yes.” Chiyo hesitated, then handed Emily Grace to the girl. “Lean her back and raise her up again.”

“Mama,” Emily Grace said obediently.

Chiyo explained, “That is her word for
okaasan.”

The girls all exclaimed, “Ohh.” Each wanted a turn holding the doll to make her talk. Chiyo watched, feeling proud but uneasy at letting Emily Grace out of her hands.

Hoshi handed the doll on to Kimiko. “I remember how much I enjoyed dolls when I was five years old.”

“So now you are too old for dolls?” Chiyo asked.

Hoshi said, “I prefer books.” Her tone said that anyone who preferred dolls was still a baby.

“Then you will not care to accompany us tomorrow.”

Hoshi’s perfect eyebrows lifted. “Accompany you where?”

“You wouldn’t be interested. It’s about dolls.” Chiyo bent to straighten Emily Grace’s collar, but she couldn’t hold back her excitement. “We’ve all been invited to visit the doll maker who is working on a doll to send to America. She’s called Miss Tokyo, to represent this city.”

Kimiko clapped her hands, then paused. “You said ‘all’ of us. Do you mean . . . who do you mean?”

Watanabe-sensei beamed. “Miss Tamura has a generous heart. When the mayor asked who she would like to take with her, she asked that everyone be invited.”

Chiyo looked from one to the other, pleased to see excitement in all their faces. Even Hoshi set aside the book she had just opened. “Imagine,” Chiyo said. “The dolls are ninety centimeters tall, the size of a small child. Emily Grace and her friends are not even half that.”

Hana bounced up and down, then stopped. “Aren’t we going home tomorrow?”

Watanabe-sensei answered. “The tickets have been changed again.”

Again! Throughout the afternoon and evening, Chiyo felt as if she were living inside a magic bubble where nothing was like her real world.

In her own space beyond the
fusuma
screen at last, Chiyo settled the doll between her futon and Hana’s. Tomorrow, she would meet a master doll maker. Anticipation made her shiver, but gradually sleep overcame her as she lay with one hand curved protectively over Emily Grace.

C
hiyo woke early the next morning, too excited to sleep. She smoothed Emily Grace’s hair before combing her own.

“Come downstairs for breakfast, girls,” Oki-sensei called. “Chiyo, leave the doll here. You don’t want to spill something on her.”

I’m not that clumsy,
Chiyo told herself. But she made sure Emily Grace was comfortable on a couch cushion before hurrying after the others.

She had expected General Miyamoto to join them for dinner the night before. He hadn’t come by even though Hoshi kept glancing at the doorway. When he came into the breakfast house soon after they were all seated, Chiyo looked for Hoshi and was surprised not to see her.

The girl rushed in moments later, bowed to her father, and found a seat at the table.

General Miyamoto was a nice-looking man, Chiyo thought after a modest glance. But his expression concealed whatever he might be thinking or feeling.

He stood beside an empty chair at the head of the table to greet them. “Breakfast this morning is my treat. I hope you will enjoy the omelets.”

“What is an omelet?” Chiyo whispered to Hana. Hana didn’t know, either. When they were served Western-style eggs, whipped, cooked quickly in butter — butter!— and folded over, they glanced from their plates to each other. Eggs were rarely eaten in Chiyo’s family, since they sold what they could. And they never had anything cooked in butter.

While Hana poked curiously at her omelet, General Miyamoto looked down the table to Chiyo. “Miss Tamura, I have been hearing interesting things about you.”

“Her picture is everywhere,” Hoshi said, sounding as if she were proud of her classmate. Chiyo noticed that she was not the only one to look at Hoshi in surprise.

“Hai,”
Watanabe-sensei agreed. “Miss Tamura’s picture has captured the heart of Japan.”

The severe lines in General Miyamoto’s face relaxed slightly. “Not often does a girl come from a mountain village and earn such wide approval.”

Hoshi’s mouth turned down, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Chiyo had noticed that while the general had nodded in return to her bow, he paid little attention to his daughter.

Hana exclaimed, “Chiyo met the mayor.”

Both teachers looked sharply at Hana for speaking without invitation as the general asked, “Did you enjoy that meeting, Miss Tamura?”

“Hai.
I rode in his car. It’s very big and black and . . . rumbly.” Was that a word? She felt heat in her face and wondered if her ears had turned red with embarrassment.

“And now,” Hana said, still too excited to wait her turn to speak, “we are all to meet a doll maker who is making a huge doll to send to America.”

Oki-sensei turned a forbidding look on Hana, who was forgetting her manners.

Hana murmured,
“Sumimasen.”

The general’s eyes showed amusement. “Miss Nakata is the daughter of a politician,” he reminded Sensei. “Words come easily.” He turned to Chiyo. “Are you looking forward to the visit?”

“Hai.”
She added impulsively, “Would you like to come with us, Miyamoto-san? Our teachers are going.” At once, she realized that she shouldn’t have asked. The others might not like having the general with them.

“Arigatogozaimasu,
Miss Tamura,” he answered. “As much as I would enjoy accompanying the group, I’m afraid an appointment elsewhere makes it impossible.”