Dolls of Hope (23 page)

Chiyo looked up in surprise. “The school called? Why? They don’t want me there.”

“They cannot have a girl in their care disappear.” The doll maker’s eyes became stern. “Your headmaster heard from a nurse at the hospital. She told him she gave you a ride from Toride to my house.”

“Yaeko,” Chiyo whispered. “She said she would help.”

“I had no idea where you were!” His frown deepened. “People might have said the doll maker is too old to paint fine lines. He has made a slave of the girl so she can do his work for him.”

Chiyo wished she could slide under the table away from that stern look, even if it would mean sliding onto coals. “You’re not old,” she said.

Amusement replaced the frown, but he kept his voice stern. “So the rumor would not be true. What is true is that you risked your safety on a dangerous trip. You must never do such a thing again.”

“No, Hirata-san.” Chiyo heard more than stern words from the doll maker. She heard that he cared about her. Just as Mori-san had said. She sat in silence with her head bowed, the image of a girl deeply shamed. But inside, she smiled.

Mori-san said patiently, “If you have finished working out your fear for her by scolding the child, will you hear why she came to see you?”

“I would like that.”

Carefully, Chiyo placed her bundle on the table. “It’s Emily Grace,” she said as she unwrapped the doll. “She’s hurt. Please, Hirata-san, will you help her?”

He called to the housekeeper for tea, then lowered himself to a cushion beside Chiyo and looked curiously at the doll. Mrs. Sasaki hurried in with a tray.

“Someone cut her all apart,” Chiyo explained. “Headmaster was going to throw her away. I didn’t know what to do. So I brought her here. Can you . . . can she be fixed?”

The doll maker studied her for a long moment before looking again at the doll. “Perhaps. But tell me, how did this come about?”

Why did people always want to know the bad parts? Why couldn’t they see what had to be done and just set about doing it? Chiyo took a deep breath, then went through the whole thing again, as she had told it to Yaeko and, in part, to Mori Masaru.

Hirata-san sipped his tea, glancing occasionally at Emily Grace. At last, he lifted the doll’s body and studied the bits of rubber bands still visible in the holes where her arms and legs had been attached. “I have not seen this before. Our dolls with moveable joints have fabric fastening them to the body.”

He was going to refuse to help Emily Grace. She could feel it coming. At least he was nicer than his housekeeper. He had let her get warm before sending her away.

“I have no bands such as these in my workshop,” he explained.

“No,” Chiyo whispered. No, he wouldn’t have. He didn’t make dolls like Emily Grace. She reached for the doll and began to bundle the coverings around her.

“I will send a boy to locate bands of the right length and weight,” the doll maker said. “If none can be found, then lengths of fabric passed through her body may serve to hold the parts together. Either way, repairing her will be interesting.”

Chiyo sank back on the cushion. He would help! He might use fabric lengths. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Emily Grace would be whole again.

Hirata-san rose to his feet. “First, I must inform your school that you are safe.”

“And Miss Tamura is helping me place the dolls.” The museum curator removed a scroll from his tunic and spread it on the table.

Chiyo leaned closer to look at the diagram of the two-story doll palace with many rooms. He had shown her parts of it in the noodle house, but she had not seen it spread open. She turned to him in surprise. “This shows a garden with a pond and flowers.”

He nodded. “The palace will be mounted on a cabinet so that children may stand at eye level with the dolls.” For several minutes, Chiyo leaned over the plan, deciding where dolls might pretend to share tea or stand before a mirror choosing pretty ribbons or enjoy the garden while watching koi in the pond.

At last, Mori Masaru-san rolled up his plans. His smile thanked Chiyo even more than his bow. They had become friends while they planned for the dolls. She was sorry to see him leave.

Mrs. Sasaki came in with a
bento
box and suggested lunch in the garden. Chiyo gathered her sewing kit and the doll’s torn dress and followed the housekeeper outside, pleased to see that the rain had stopped. Bright sunlight brought warmth to the terrace.

The housekeeper paused in the doorway. “Hirata-san has questions for you to consider. He asks, what is to become of the doll once she is repaired? Will she be safe when you return her to your school?”

The questions hung in the air with Chiyo while the housekeeper closed the screen, leaving her alone with the raked rocks of the garden.

C
hiyo answered in silence.
I spent the mayor’s money to bring Emily
Grace
to Tokyo because the school wanted to throw her in the trash. I may be forbidden to attend Masako’s wedding. Emily Grace is mine now, and I’m keeping her with me. Forever!

Still the doll maker’s questions circled like smoke from green wood. She couldn’t get away from them. She thought of the mayor placing the protector’s medal on its ribbon over her head. The medal was a promise to keep the doll safe for the girls.
All
the girls.

And I tried,
she argued silently.
But they called me vain and wouldn’t let me stay with her. And Hoshi cut Emily Grace apart.

Maybe Hirata-san didn’t understand. She would explain the danger to Emily Grace when she talked to him again. He must see that the doll should not go back to the school.

She chose a stone bench on the sheltered terrace where she could look out at the raked white rocks. Before taking out her threads and needle, she explored the
bento
box and found rice balls, dried herring, and small pickled salt plums in the divided sections.

When the box was empty, she turned to her sewing. Gradually, the tranquillity of the garden soaked into her. She had no idea how much time passed while she worked on the doll dress. Shadows had grown longer before Hirata-san stepped onto the terrace. “Here is someone to see you.”

Chiyo sprang to her feet, dropping the dress to the bench. The doll maker held out Emily Grace, whole again and dressed in a small kimono. The doll’s arms reached toward her.

Tears slipped down Chiyo’s cheeks as she hugged Emily Grace. “
Arigatogozaimasu,
Hirata-san.
Arigato . . . !
” Her voice broke and she swallowed hard. After choking back tears so often, it was foolish to cry because she was happy!

“Have you forgiven that wicked girl?” Chiyo asked the doll. She imagined Emily Grace’s answer. Emily Grace wanted to continue the adventure that had brought her all the way across the Pacific Ocean.

With reluctance, Chiyo answered the question he had asked through the housekeeper. “She will go back to Tsuchiura Girls’ School. She came a long way for all the girls there. I must trust Headmaster to keep her safe this time.”

“He is sure to do that,” the doll maker said gently. “I will drive you to your school before the day grows later.”

Chiyo gathered her sewing materials and followed him back into the house. She was to ride in yet another automobile. Secret pleasure warmed her as she imagined the girls’ surprise when they saw her arrive.

“The school expects Yamada Nori to come for you late today.”

She had forgotten that this was the day Yamada-san was to remove her from the school. But if she left, who would watch over Emily Grace to be sure the school kept the doll safe?

Hirata Gouyou’s car was more like Yaeko’s than the mayor’s big automobile. Chiyo sat in front with the doll maker, holding Emily Grace in her new kimono. As the miles rushed by, Hirata-san asked her about the doll palace. Chiyo was happy to describe each story grouping of dolls she and Mori-san had planned.

Almost before she knew it, they reached Tsuchiura Girls’ School. No one was outside to see her arrive, but Yamada Nori’s horse stood tethered beside the gate, with the carriage behind it. Chiyo’s stomach felt as if her
obi-jime
were tied too tightly around her middle. She had to face questions again. Questions and disapproval.

The sooner she was inside, the sooner she could explain. She must show them how beautiful Emily Grace looked now. Surely Yamada-san would be proud of her for saving the doll.

She hoped he would be proud.

The moment the car stopped, she jumped from it, calling back to Hirata-san,
“Arigatogozaimasu!
I must go.” She ran toward the inside courtyard, wondering if Yamada Nori was in Headmaster’s office.

The school seemed strange to her, as if she were returning after a long time away. When she stepped inside, it all rushed back and she was on familiar ground.

She stopped, listening. Someone was crying nearby. Hoshi’s voice rose above the sobs. “You will say nothing. Nothing!”

C
hiyo wanted to rush away from more trouble. But she couldn’t go on when someone needed help.The voices came from a small room where the girls ironed fabric for their sewing class. Cautiously, she cracked open the door.

Hoshi stood with her back to the door, gripping the wood handle of an iron heating on a hot stove. Shizuko faced her with tears running down her flushed face.

“They’ll ask me,” Shizuko said. “They’re asking everyone.”

“You know nothing.”

“You cut the doll. I saw you do it. You put the pieces in Chiyo’s desk. I haven’t told, but they’ll know if they ask.”

Was it possible that the headmaster and teachers were trying to learn what had really happened? Shizuko knew all along. The knowledge slammed into Chiyo. That was why Shizuko had acted so strangely when she crawled onto her futon and wouldn’t talk.

Inside the sewing room, Hoshi raised the hot iron. “I warned you.”

“No!” Shizuko screamed. “Hoshi! Don’t!”

Chiyo shoved the door wide. “Hoshi! Stop!”

Hoshi swung around. Her eyes looked like those of a stray dog Chiyo had once seen cornered. She rushed at Chiyo with the raised iron.

Chiyo bent to place Emily Grace safely on the floor. When she sprang up, her head hit Hoshi’s elbow. Hoshi’s hand swung around. The hot steel seared into her heavy silk kimono. Shrieking, she dropped the iron. The metal plate left its burned shadow in the silk.

Hoshi kept shrieking while Headmaster Hanarai rushed in with Yamada Nori behind him. “What is happening here?”

Yamada-san reached for Chiyo. She turned to him, unsure whether he would protect her or blame her.

“Look what she did!” Hoshi held out the burned part of her kimono. “My best kimono! Ruined! It’s her fault. She ruined it! This school will hear from my father!”

Hirata-san stepped into the room. “It is better to burn a kimono than a girl’s face. I saw the entire incident.”

Shizuko had cringed back against shelves of fabric. Now she came forward. Her voice shook when she spoke to the headmaster. “Hoshi cut the doll. I saw her do it. She said she would burn me if I told.”

Girls crowded the doorway, trying to see in. From beyond them, Kaito-sensei called, “Young ladies, please! Return to your classrooms.”

Headmaster Hanarai looked as if a tsunami had washed him from his familiar world to one he didn’t know. “It was you, Miss Miyamoto? You damaged the doll? And now you’ve threatened harm to these girls?”

“Who says that? The doll maker?” Hoshi drew herself straight. “He’s her friend. He will say whatever she wants to hear.”

Headmaster turned. He looked flushed as he recognized the master doll maker, who had just been insulted. Bowing, he said, “Hirata Gouyou-san, you honor us with your visit.” Flushing even deeper, he added, “
Sumimasen,
the girl is upset. You saw this . . . what happened here?”

“I did.” Hirata-san stood solidly in the doorway, making it clear that he meant to be heard.

Headmaster Hanarai glanced at the girls still crowding nearby despite Kaito-sensei’s orders. “Go to your classes, all of you.”

They scurried away, sounding like pigeons on a roof, asking one another what had happened.