Sisters of Heart and Snow (35 page)

M
IYAKO, THE
C
APITAL

C
ENTRAL
R
EGION

H
ONSHU,
J
APAN

Winter 1184

T
hey left for the capital at daybreak, on a day when the wind blew bitter snow into their faces. Tomoe forced her mother to stay inside, to not see them off. She kissed Chizuru, Aoi, and then knelt next to Yamabuki and picked up her hand. Stiff and cold. All the words that needed saying had been said long ago. There would be no changing anything in the hard days to come.

Without Yamabuki, Tomoe thought, she would have turned out like Yoshinaka and her brother. Bitter, inflexible, battle-hungry, unable to take pleasure in anything but a fight. It was because of Yamabuki that Tomoe had learned to enjoy the daily humdrum routine of life. To find the poetry hidden in laundry day. To learn how to become a mother. To love somebody better than you loved yourself.

Tomoe stroked the long fountain of hair under Yamabuki's head, so white now it might be snow-pale by the new year. Her skin hung like empty kimonos on a clothesline. Tomoe put her ear gently against the woman's face. She still breathed. “Yamabuki!” she said. “Wake up. Please.”

I cannot go on without you. My sister of heart.

•   •   •

Yoshinaka and her brother Kanehira
went
to the palace on their own. Tomoe wandered the streets with Cherry Blossom. She had dreamed about Miyako as a girl. The capital city seemed so glamorous. Sophisticated. This was where the court was, the hub of life. Never had she imagined she'd be riding in as an invader, against her own clan.

She came across a stall selling a beautiful orange silk material with bright red flowers and fans woven in. Tomoe touched the luxurious folds. How Yamabuki would adore this. She imagined Yamabuki healthy again, wearing a kimono made of the beautiful silks. Perhaps it would help her get better. She gave the vendor, an older woman with blackened teeth, a few Chinese coins for it.

Tomoe had started back to the palace again when she smelled smoke. Not smoke from vendors cooking food or lighting fires to keep warm, but the hot odor of many flames. She looked up, and felt her body stiffen in horror.

The palace was on fire, its slanted roof blazing. Men ran about, carrying goods in their hands as Yoshinaka's men pillaged the city.

“This cannot be. This cannot be.” Tomoe mounted Cherry Blossom and headed inside the palace grounds.

Yoshinaka stood in the courtyard with her brother and a half-dozen other men. They faced away from her, firing blazing arrows almost lazily into the palace walls, watching as each melted through the shoji screens, through the beautiful wooden scrollwork.

Beside Yoshinaka, a shrunken and stooped old man stood, bald and thin, his back marred by a hump. He was covered in soot and blood and dirt; at first, Tomoe thought he was a beggar. “Tomoe Gozen. Help me,” the small figure pleaded. She looked down at him. It was the retired emperor, Go-Shirakawa.

“Yoshinaka! You've gone mad,” Tomoe cried. She was so out of breath, so in shock, that she couldn't hear her own voice. She yanked on Yoshinaka's arm. “Stop this.” He was focused on the fire, eyes bright. He sniffled and ran his hand along his nose. Tomoe thought of Kaneto, of how disappointed he'd be with all of them. “No!” she shouted, her voice loud now, ringing through the courtyard, battering against the burning building. She had been saying words like this to Yoshinaka since he was a toddler. Tomoe had no more words for him, and no more strength. She wanted to weep, and she wanted to be done.

“I am destroying the city,” Yoshinaka said calmly, shrugging off her hands. He spoke as if he had told her he was fishing or going for a walk. He took a swig from a bottle one of the men offered. His dark eyes reflected the flames. “Go-Shirakawa is my prisoner until he makes me shogun.”

Tomoe took a step back. His face was like the face of one of these stone dragons decorating the garden. Unrecognizable. For the first time in her life, she truly feared Yoshinaka.

But she stepped in front of him anyway. Her lungs ached from the fire. “How can you rule a lost city? What good does it do us to destroy everything? This palace has stood for hundreds of years! Look what you have done to it, to Japan! You might be shogun, but you're not the emperor.”

He looked down at her, finally seeming to recognize her. His gaze softened. “Tomoe Gozen,” he said in a low voice. “You must understand. Yoritomo will kill me either way. No matter if I stayed out of Miyako or took it over or found the child emperor Antoku or killed off Munemori Taira. This way”—he stepped toward her—“this way, I had a chance.”

Yoshinaka clasped her arms with his dirty hands and forced Tomoe to meet his eyes. The palace flames danced in his irises. She remembered when she'd conquered him as a child, put her foot on his chest. His eyes full of pleading then. His eyes simply resigned now, blank, reminding her of her father's, after he'd fallen.

She turned her head away. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but he was correct. Yoshinaka was necessary only for victory, not for the ruling of a country. Yoritomo would kill Yoshinaka, just as his father had killed Yoshinaka's.

Tomoe rested her head, just for a moment, on Yoshinaka's shoulder, trying to breathe in his familiar smell once more. But the smoke was too strong. There was none of him left.
Oh, Yoshi
, she thought.
Where did you go?

“You must leave, Tomoe,” Yoshinaka said. “Take Cherry Blossom and go; return to our family and protect Yamabuki.” He embraced her roughly. Tomoe's eyes watered, flushing soot away, streaking the front of his dirty armor.

She nodded numbly. “Yes. I will go back to Yamabuki and await you there.” Tomoe's mouth had a bitter taste. She swallowed and stepped away. Go-Shirakawa, held upright by two soldiers, swayed in their arms.

 

S
AN
D
IEGO

Present Day

A
few days later, their mother is stable, moved into a semi-private room, next to a window overlooking the Life Flight helicopter landing pad, a big red cross painted on top of an adjoining building. It's Tuesday at ten and already one chopper's come in. The other bed's taken up by someone who sleeps silently, no visitors yet.

Rachel dozes in the uncomfortable wood-and-vinyl chair next to the bed, her head resting on the bed next to Hikari. Hikari sleeps upright, one hand loosely wound in her daughter's hair.

Hikari's woken up and looked around and eaten. She's spoken two words, “It's fine.” She acknowledges their presence in the same way she acknowledges her nurse: she knows they are here, but not who they are.

“Knock knock?” a male voice says behind the curtain. Drew draws it open. A doctor appears next to her, bearing an iPad. He's blond and young, way younger than Drew is. Dr. Hakiyama. A person of Japanese descent with blond hair. Maybe this is what Chase will look like, Drew thinks.

Rachel lifts her head sleepily at the sound and Hikari opens her eyes. Drew introduces them.

“It's fine,” their mother says softly. She clears her throat, repeats. “It's fine.” She looks listlessly out the window.

A furrow appears in the doctor's brow. It makes him look older and somehow more competent. He should have frown lines stitched into his forehead. “The stroke affected the language portion of her brain.” He looks down at his iPad again, though Drew thinks he already knows what he needs to say. “That phrase seems to be all she can say.”

“It's fine.” Mom struggles to sit up. She gestures at the water pitcher and Rachel pours her a cup, helps her with the straw. “It's fine.” She doesn't appear distressed at having the ability to say only two words. Maybe she doesn't realize she's only saying “It's fine.”

Rachel puts the cup down. “Can she do speech therapy?”

He hesitates. “We can try. But it probably won't make a difference, honestly. Her heart's very weak.”

Rachel's phone buzzes. “It's Laura,” she says, and she steps into the hallway. That's right. The hearing for custodianship is next week.

Dr. Hakiyama touches Drew on her arm. “We'll make her as comfortable as possible.”

She knows immediately what he means. What he's not saying. He doesn't have to. Her mother's bones seem smaller than Drew could have imagined, lying there with the skin on them. The room feels like it's caving in on her. Drew closes her eyes for a second. A scene from the samurai book springs into her head: Yamabuki lying on her bedroll, covered in blood.

This life was too difficult for poor Yamabuki.

Or for Hikari.

Drew and her mother will never have the kind of warm relationship Drew longed for, but Drew has this. This time she spent with her sister. How Drew feels about her mother now. No resentment. No remorse. Just the understanding that Hikari had done the best that she could, with what she had. They were limited, both of them, and that's all there was to it.

She puts her hand on her mother's cool arm, covers it with a blanket. “Thanks, Dr. Hakiyama.”

He gives her a small smile and pats her shoulder.

•   •   •

Later in the day,
Drew meets Alan and the girls at the park. Audrey hugs Drew's knees, but Lauren, once again, glares from a distance away.

“No training wheels?” Drew asks when she sees the little pink bikes in the back of the car.

“I think they're crutches. If you know you're always safe, there's no incentive to learn how to stay upright.” Alan lifts the bikes out of the back of the minivan. He pats the car. “The cars aren't so big in England. I'll miss this, surely.”

Drew feels a pang, but she lets it pass without comment. She helps Audrey buckle her helmet. Lauren does it on her own.

“Come on!” Audrey shouts, wheeling her bike to the path. To Drew's surprise, it's not the older girl who gets on and starts riding. It's the younger, pedaling madly down the path.

Lauren pushes her bike by hand, her face furrowed. “Ready to try again, Lauren?” Alan asks brightly.

“No,” she says. “I don't want to.”

“She fell off once and skinned up her knee,” Alan whispers. “I can't get her to try again.”

“So she's going to walk the bike forever?”

Alan shrugs. “When she's ready, she'll ask for help.”

Drew watches Audrey zip around the path, Lauren trudging behind. Suddenly Audrey, swerving to avoid a dog walker—her control isn't so great yet—zooms off the path into the grass and tumbles down. Alan and Drew freeze, and a second later, she lets forth a mighty wail. Alan runs across the grass to her.

Lauren is beside her. “Is she okay?”

Alan picks up Audrey, flashes them a thumbs-up, carries her to the bathroom. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Lauren starts pushing again.

“Hey.” Drew bends down to the girl's eye level. “Do you want me to show you how to ride? I know a trick.”

Lauren cocks her head. “A trick?”

Drew nods. “My sister taught it to me. She taught me how to ride a bike. Of course, I was a lot older. It's good that you're learning now.” She'd been eight, Rachel twelve. Rachel pushed her across a field like this one, until Drew learned to balance. “Come on.” Drew wheels the bike to the center of the field so it's facing downhill.

Drew has the girl balance on the bike without moving. “Hold your legs out,” she instructs. “If you need to, just put your feet on the ground to slow down.” She pushes the bike forward and it starts rolling downhill.

Lauren shrieks and puts her toes down, but doesn't fall. She lifts her legs up again and keeps going.

“I did it!” she shouts when she rolls to a stop. “Can I do it again?”

“Sure.” Drew starts her off three more times, and on the third time, Lauren puts her feet up on the pedals. Drew crosses her arms and feels a surge of pride for the girl so strong it brings tears to her eyes. She smiles. At eight, Drew was still scared of the bike.
I'm going to fall, Rachel!
Rachel yelling back,
So what?
And then Drew fell and the wind got knocked out of her, but she wasn't hurt because of the grass. She got right back on.

Lauren starts teetering. “Push backwards to brake!” Drew yells, but Lauren puts her feet down. Oh well. That part will come later.

Alan watches her from a picnic table, Audrey on his lap. He's smiling so big that Drew can see his teeth from all the way across the field.

Drew runs over to Lauren. “Great job, sweetie!” She puts her hands on the bike. “Want to go again?”

Lauren, however, is not smiling. Again. She looks up at Drew with those serious eyes, the same color as her father's. “I remember my mother. You're not her.”

Drew kneels on the ground, hitting the grass with her palms, as if she's been shoved over from behind. Of course that can't be true—Lauren was only one—but the girl's remembering the photos. Alan's done such a good job of telling the girls stories about their mother that she is real. Bless him.

“No, I'm not your mother.” She stops, not sure what else to say. Drew looks carefully at Lauren, this tiny articulate girl. Her fists are clenched and her brows knit. Maybe she does hate Drew. Or maybe she's just afraid. Drew speaks what's in her heart. “But I'll take care of you and your sister like I am.”

Lauren tilts her head.

Drew opens up her arms, ready for rejection.

To her surprise, Lauren walks into them and hugs her tight. It's brief and she turns and runs away. Drew smiles. It's a start.

•   •   •

They stay for a while longer,
Lauren venturing out onto the concrete path while Drew and Alan walk behind. Drew watches the girls with a mix of wonder and sadness. “Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, me? I don't want them to get too attached.” She swallows. Already she feels the hole where they will be, when they leave. Ghosts to her.

Alan takes her hand. “Drew, I want you to come to England.”

She stops moving so suddenly another walker has to jump aside to avoid hitting her. “What do you mean? Move there or visit?”

“Move.” Alan puts his hands on her shoulders, all seriousness. “I want you with us. I won't lose you.”

Drew's mind races, thinking of her current lack of job and money. “But . . . I need to figure out stuff. Get a job. Be a strong independent woman. Like my mother wanted me to be.” She must have, Drew thinks, to give them the Tomoe Gozen story.

“You are a strong independent woman. Look at what you've already done, Drew. Your music is wonderful. You've overcome a decidedly fucked-up childhood more gracefully than most.” He smiles at her. “Besides, you'll have to be strong and independent. I'm not rich enough to fully support you. I am just a humble librarian.”

Drew laughs.

“So.” He leans down to her. “Are you planning to drastically change your personality?”

Drew shakes her head. No. That, she realizes, has already happened. It happened when she came down here to help Rachel. Somehow, this period of lost-ness has resulted in finding Drew.

“Then why on earth can't you figure yourself out with me?” he asks.

Drew considers this. She can continue songwriting wherever she is in the world. Maybe she'll sell some, maybe not. There is a pretty big music industry in England, too—surely Drew can get some gigs over there. Maybe she can teach music. There are just as many possibilities there as there are here for Drew. A little wellspring of hope bubbles up.

Alan puts his arm around her shoulder and they resume walking. A soccer ball rolls across the path and Alan kicks it back without pause. “I know you need to think about it. When my wife and I were thinking about having a baby, we talked ourselves out of it for a good five years. Too soon, we thought. Plans too up in the air, we thought. We want to travel the world first, we thought.” He draws her into his side. “You're never ready. The timing is never exactly perfect. But life is too short.”

Drew looks at the girls across the field. Lauren braving a quick lift of her hand. Drew waves back.

She thinks about Tomoe choosing not to go to the capital with Wada. How, to the outsider, this might have seemed like a bad decision, but was right for Tomoe. She thinks about her mother, and Quincy, and Rachel. No choice has a certain outcome. You have to do what feels right and true. Actually, Drew made up her mind a while ago, she realizes. “No,” she says.

Alan stops. “No?” His voice goes sad and he takes her face in his hands.

“No. I don't need to think about it.” She grabs his wrists. “I'll do it. Yes.”

A man jogging by lets out a whoop. “She said yes!” he shouts, pumping one sweaty arm in the air. “Whoo-hoo!”

“That's step two,” Alan whispers into her ear. She kisses him.