Dolls of Hope (13 page)

W
hen the mayor’s big car pulled to a stop in front of a large building, Chiyo clenched her hands in her lap. “Why does he want to see me?” she asked Watanabe-sensei, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Do you think he is angry?”

What if Hoshi was right? The mayor might be upset that her picture had taken the place of one that should have been in the paper: a picture of Miss Tokugawa Yukiko. She almost expected to see the ghost of Yukiko’s grandfather the shogun waiting with his sword drawn.

“You have struck a sympathetic chord in people’s hearts,” said Watanabe-sensei. “I believe that is why the mayor wishes to have his picture taken with you.”

That didn’t make sense to Chiyo. Hoshi was right. She was just a girl from a mountain village and always would be. Her cold fingers curled into her palms. “Do I have to meet him?”

Sensei nodded gravely. “Be proud, Miss Tamura. Remember, you are representing Tsuchiura Girls’ School.”

That didn’t make her feel better. That made her feel worse. She did not want to represent Tsuchiura Girls’ School to the mayor of Tokyo. She worried that every word escaping her lips would be the wrong one. Desperately, she asked, “What shall I say?”

Sensei smiled as the chauffeur opened the car door. “You’ll know.”

Chiyo drew in a deep, deep breath and stepped from the car. An aide greeted them with a bow before leading them through a hall busy with hurrying people. Many startled Chiyo by pausing to bow as she came near.

Wondering if they were mistaking her for someone important, she returned their bows. When the aide guided them through an open doorway, the mayor rose from behind a gleaming desk. He hurried forward to offer Watanabe-sensei a Western-style handshake.

Pleasure glowed in his eyes as he turned and bowed to Chiyo. “Welcome, Miss Tamura. Welcome! I am honored by your visit.”

He wasn’t angry, nor was the ghost of a shogun waiting with his sword. She breathed her thanks as she returned the bow.
“Arigatogozaimasu.”

“No, no,” the mayor corrected. “You are the one who deserves gratitude, Miss Tamura. Through your picture, you have shown the world the warm, loving hearts of all Japanese children.”

She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out that the picture was an accident, that she hadn’t even known it was being taken. She cast a quick sidewise glance at Watanabe-sensei. Was she doing the right thing?
The Hoshi thing?
Sensei seemed satisfied with her. So far.

When the mayor invited them to sit down, she perched uneasily on the edge of a chair. Several photos on the walls showed the mayor posing with different people. Was her picture to go up there, posing with him?

She brought her gaze back quickly as he asked about her home and family. Would he change his mind about a picture when he learned that she was just a girl from a mountain village?

The aide returned with two men, one with a large camera with a flash attachment. The mayor shook hands with both, then introduced Chiyo to the photographer, whom she remembered from the ceremony. The second man wrote for the paper that had published her picture.

She stood and bowed, unsure what was expected, but soon she was standing beside the mayor, watching the photographer adjust his camera. The writer made rapid notes on a pad in his hands.

“The exchange of dolls is the exchange of hearts,” the mayor told him, sounding as if he expected to be quoted. “The glowing tenderness in Miss Tamura Chiyo’s popular photograph has shown us that truth more clearly than any words spoken during the recent ceremony.”

He moved closer to Chiyo. White light flashed. The photographer had taken their picture. For a long moment, Chiyo couldn’t see anything but a bright glare.

The mayor seemed untroubled. She supposed he was used to camera flashes. “Miss Tamura,” he said, facing her again, “I wish to appoint you to an important position. If you will accept, you will do our city a great honor.”

She didn’t know what to say. What was he asking her? What if she couldn’t do it . . . whatever it was?

He motioned to his assistant, who stepped forward holding a doll with curly golden hair. When he handed the doll to the mayor, her eyelashes rolled open as if she were just waking. Her clear blue eyes looked directly at Chiyo. “Mama.”

Chiyo gasped. “Emily Grace!”

“Miss Tamura,” the mayor said, “with your permission, I hereby appoint you Honorary Protector of the doll Emily Grace.”

As he handed the doll to her, the camera’s flash lit up the room, but for Chiyo the camera had ceased to exist. Without conscious thought, she drew the doll close and gazed into her face. She had never expected to see Emily Grace again.

The mayor asked, “Miss Tamura, will you do the city the honor of accepting the appointment?”

For a moment, Chiyo couldn’t speak at all. She looked from Sensei to the mayor through a blur of happy tears.
“Hai.”
She said it again with emphasis that made the watching men chuckle. “
Hai!
I would like that better than anything in the entire world!”

She swallowed hard, trying to blink away the haze of tears. “What does it mean, Honorary Protector?”

T
he mayor smiled while the writer made more rapid notes. “I believe you will find the task pleasant, Miss Tamura. You see, I have arranged for Emily Grace to join the girls at your school. Your job will be to make her feel at home in Tsuchiura.”

Again, Chiyo heard the reporter’s pencil scratching against his notebook. “Our school?” She hardly dared believe it. “She’s really coming to our school? Emily Grace?”

“She is.” The mayor chuckled at her excitement. “Your heartwarming photograph convinced the committee members that Emily Grace should go to Tsuchiura.”

He added to the writer, “Already this morning we have heard from many good people wanting to make sure the doll will be sent with Miss Tamura.”

Chiyo pressed her cheek to Emily Grace’s soft curls. Her heart filled with so many things she might say, but she could manage only
“Arigatogozaimasu!”

The white flare came again. Another photograph. This time, she scarcely noticed.
Let him print it,
she thought.
Let it be my thank-you to all those kind people who want Emily Grace to go with me.

“I promise,” she said. “I will protect Emily Grace and keep her safe. If an earthquake comes, I will protect her with my own body!” She couldn’t think of a bigger disaster that might threaten the doll — well, maybe Hoshi — but whatever came, she would save the doll before saving herself.

“Excellent!” The mayor reached into a box on his desk for a large medal. He read aloud the kanji characters printed in black ink across the front. “‘Official Doll Protector by appointment of the Mayor of the City of Tokyo.’”

After displaying the medal to the reporter, he pinned it carefully to Chiyo’s collar.

Blinking in still another white flash, Chiyo asked the doll softly, “Do you see this medal, Emily Grace? This is a promise that I will always love you and keep you safe.”

Her thoughts swirled. Was it only this morning that Oki-sensei and the other girls believed she was in serious trouble? She still didn’t know how Yamada Nori would feel about the public attention.

She couldn’t worry about that while Emily Grace was in her arms. The doll was to return with her to Tsuchiura! She had never been so happy in her life.

“Miss Tamura,” the mayor said, “I hope you will be pleased to know that the medal comes with a cash gift.”

He offered two gleaming gold coins. Chiyo accepted them, feeling numb with disbelief.
Ten yen. He was giving her two gold ten-yen coins!
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.
Arigatogozaimasu,
Your Honor.
Arigatogozaimasu!
”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but they were happy tears, and she smiled through them while the camera flashed again.

The mayor seemed in no hurry to end the meeting, but talked of the dolls and the ceremony the day before. “The doll called Miss America is to have a place of honor in the doll palace.”

Doll palace? Chiyo looked at him, wishing to know more. Fortunately, Watanabe-sensei asked for her. “There is to be a doll palace? I have not heard of that.”

“Ah,” said the mayor, sounding pleased. “I have the pleasure of being first to tell you the news. What do you think of this, Miss Tamura? Our empress has decided to donate a two-story doll palace large enough to hold the forty-eight dolls representing the forty-eight states of America, as well as the Miss America doll accepted by Miss Tokugawa and several Japanese doll assistants.”

Chiyo thought of the dolls displayed before the welcoming ceremony and tried to imagine a doll palace large enough to hold forty-nine of them and more besides. “It will be very large.”

“It will,” the mayor agreed. “I understand our finest cabinetmaker is already working on the project. The forty-nine dolls will first visit the Imperial Palace. When the large dollhouse is completed in the Tokyo Educational Museum, they will all be moved there.”

Chiyo wished she could see it, but the teachers weren’t likely to bring the group all the way back to Tokyo from Tsuchiura to see a palace filled with dolls. She found it hard to believe she was here at all and not deep in a wonderful dream.

“There is one more thing to be decided.” The mayor’s eyes sparkled. “In appreciation of your kind heart, Miss Tamura, the city has arranged for you to visit Hirata Gouyou.”

The name meant nothing to Chiyo. The mayor looked as if it should. She looked uneasily at Sensei as the mayor turned to him, saying, “Watanabe-sensei, you will recognize the name of a master doll maker. Hirata Gouyou is even now creating one of fifty-eight dolls to be sent to the children of America in gratitude for their kind gift to us. She will be called Miss Tokyo to represent our city.”

The mayor turned to Chiyo. “Do you know of these dolls, Miss Tamura?”

She thought of Kaito-sensei telling the class about dolls to represent every prefecture and major city, big dolls the size of small children. Was she really to see one of those dolls — Miss Tokyo — being made? She knew that the glow she felt inside must be shining from her eyes.

When she saw the mayor exchange an amused glance with his aide, she found her voice. “
Hai,
honorable mayor. Sensei told us one hundred and fifty doll makers competed, hoping to be chosen to create the dolls.”

“So they did,” the mayor said with as much approval as if she had managed a difficult word in a spelling contest. “Do you also know that our doll makers are able to make these exquisite dolls because the children of Japan have donated their own money to pay for them?”

“
Hai,
I was first in my class to donate a sen.” Was that boastful? Should she have held her tongue? Worried, she glanced at Watanabe-sensei. He looked as pleased as the mayor, and she relaxed again.

“That does not surprise me.” The mayor glanced at the reporter as if to make sure the man had heard her. Were all her comments going to appear in the paper? She pictured the scale she kept in her imagination. A picture in the newspaper weighed heavily on the
not humble enough
side. But now she had Emily Grace. Emily Grace weighed the other side of the scale.

The doll and medal mean I’m trusted,
Chiyo told herself.
Keeping Emily Grace safe will prove to Yamada-san how responsible I’ve become.

Trust and responsibility . . . those had to weigh more on the good side of the scale than keeping expression from her face or walking with tiny steps. She hugged the doll closer.
Taking care of Emily Grace will prove that I’m worthy enough to go home for Masako’s wedding.

“You have only one more pleasant decision to make,” the mayor told her, and she felt doubt prickle. What else could there be? “I understand six young ladies are here from Tsuchiura. You may invite any of them to visit the doll maker with you.”

“Any of them?” If she took another of the girls, would that add to the good side of her imaginary scale? Who could she take? Hana, of course! But taking Hoshi might prove more to Yamada-san.

“Any of the girls,” the mayor said cheerfully. “You probably have a special friend among them. Or take all, if you wish. Tell us, Miss Tamura. Who will explore Hirata Gouyou’s doll-making studio with you?”