Sophie and the Rising Sun (15 page)

“Sophie? What do you mean?” I asked.

“Just that he’s been meeting her every Sunday morning down by the river—them all alone like that while decent folks are in church. Why, she hasn’t been to services in almost two months—and all because of him. And you didn’t know anything about that?”

“Why, no.” I didn’t know what else to add, and what I really wanted to do was walk right away from her, but to be truthful, I was too curious to do that. Because after all, I thought I had noticed something or other in Sophie’s voice when I told her about him going off to Canada, and I’d been wondering and wondering about it ever since. But still, it just didn’t make a bit of sense.
Sophie and Mr. Oto? How ridiculous!

“They met every single Sunday morning... alone,” Miss Ruth hissed.

“What for?” I asked, not thinking too clearly.

“Supposed to be painting pictures, so I hear. But I think it was something more than that. And you know, of course, that she’s always been a little wild. But she’s got to be just as crazy as her Aunt Minnie to get mixed up like that with such a
dark
man. And a foreigner to boot! Especially these days, with us not knowing who’s a spy and who’s not!”

Of course, I knew that Sophie liked to paint watercolors of the river, and I also knew that Mr. Oto sometimes did artwork, but I never thought about the two of them together. And what was that Miss Ruth was saying about spies, anyway?

“Spies?” I felt something hot and alarmed creeping up the back of my neck.

“Well,” Miss Ruth laughed. “You just don’t keep up with the news like you used to, do you? There was a rubber raft found on South Beach yesterday—and it all cut to ribbons and half buried in the sand. Sheriff thinks some spies came off a submarine in it.”

“But what does that have to do with Sophie?”

“Nothing... maybe. Except that maybe that Mr. Oto of yours was a spy, too. A Japanese spy pretending to be a Chinaman. But now the German spies have come, he could go on to a new assignment in Canada.”

“But he
was
Chinese,” I protested.

“So he said,” Miss Ruth shot back at me. “But who’s to know for sure?” Then she lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “She’s done it before, you know—had an affair.”

“Why, Ruth! You’re just as wrong as wrong can be!” I rebutted her cruel words. “And besides, he’s gone now, anyway.” I spoke a little more softly—because after all, I didn’t want to protest too much, as they say. So I took down a package of paper muffin cups from the shelf and tossed it on top of the unflavored gelatin and the cornstarch and the Jell-O. Then I gripped the handle of the buggy tightly and marched ahead.

Ruth didn’t follow me, but in a couple of seconds, she called out from behind me, “What kind of recipe you using that calls for Jell-O
and
unsweetened gelatin? Better be careful! You’ll never be able to get your teeth through it, whatever it is!”

All in all, I thought Ruth was quite crude in her gossiping, and maybe that’s what was on my mind more than wondering what on earth had been going on—if anything—between Mr.
Oto and Sophie. And wondering why they would have been meeting like that. Still, that would certainly explain Sophie’s thinly veiled disappointment when I told her that he had gone to Canada.

But I knew Sophie very, very well. And Mr. Oto, too—and I also knew with no doubt whatsoever that he was a true gentleman and that she was a true lady. So even if they were meeting, it was just as friends. Nothing more. I was sure of it. And I certainly hated knowing that folks in town were talking about Sophie. I mean, if Ruth was saying something about it to me, then she had probably already spread it all over town. Sophie was a real lady, and I didn’t like her being the subject of such gossip, especially the crude way Ruth put it.

Poor old Ruth—she’s been gone now a long time. She got real senile in her later years, but not quite the way Sophie’s old Aunt Minnie did—by living in the past—but by getting downright dirty-minded about things. It was a strange thing to happen to her, but then we never really know how it’s going to be for us when we get old, anyway.

I never did use all that unflavored gelatin or the cornstarch. Wish I’d bought extra sugar, though, instead of those things, because it wasn’t too long after that when we all had to start using rations for sugar and for meat... even for gasoline. Because of the war.

Well, that was on Friday when Ruth said those things to me, and the next Sunday night was the last time I took supplies to Mr. Oto. Because everything started going wrong about then, starting out when Matilda called me late Sunday afternoon and said she wouldn’t be coming to work that week. In fact, that she didn’t know when she would be back at all.

“There’s a bad storm coming,” she announced to me on the phone, using that solemn-pronouncement tone I knew so well. The same tone she used whenever she was sure that her cake would fail because the eggs weren’t fresh enough or that we were going to have rain by afternoon because her knees were aching. Funny thing was, she was usually right.

“Big storms don’t come this late and when the weather’s this cool,” I argued, though I knew, even then, that I may as well save my breath.

“Well,
this
one’s coming, sure enough. And before the next full moon,” she assured me. “And I’m taking my children and going to my mama’s over in Waycross. Inland. Away from the ocean. It’s gone be a bad one. You better take care, Miss Anne.”

With that dire warning, she hung up, leaving me feeling strangely vulnerable and afraid.

“I’m only doing what has to be done,” I said. “And I’m doing it for an American. That’s all that matters.”

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything else, and I believe the words had comforted both of us. Soothed my conscience quite a bit, that’s for sure. But strangely, those very words that soothed me turned around and made me mad as fire all over again! And maybe part of that was the mere thought that any native-born American should have to be afraid! Right here in his own country!

“What if someone finds me here? And what if they accuse you of harboring the enemy?” The voice was still soft, but plaintive.

“No one will find
you,” I said, but I certainly didn’t feel all that confident that I was right. Somehow, Ruth’s glittering eyes seemed to manifest themselves out of the headlights’ gleam.

And that thought scared me so bad that I just shoved the box of canned goods and bottles of fresh water into Mr. Oto’s hands and went and got in my car and drove away.

Left him standing there in the dark. And that was the last time I ever saw him.

When Miss Anne heard the knocking, her first thought was that it was Miss Ruth coming to pry. So that when she saw Sophie’s face peering through the screened door, she felt almost faint with relief.

But when she opened the door and saw the lines in Sophie’s face and the worn look in her eyes, she knew right away that something was wrong.

Of course,
she thought.
Someone’s told her about Ruth and nasty gossip she’s been spreading.

And only after the two of them were settled in the big chairs by the front window did Miss Anne carefully start bringing up the topic of Sophie’s obvious distress.

“Forgive me for saying so, Sophie,” she began as kindly as possible. “But you’re looking so tired, I’m worried about you.’’

Sophie smiled at that, and just the simple act of smiling seemed to bring a bit of color to her cheeks. Miss Anne sat back in her chair and felt a little less worried. After all, if Sophie could still smile, then perhaps she wasn’t taking Ruth’s gossiping all that seriously.

“I’m fine,” Sophie said. “Just haven’t been sleeping very well.’’

“I certainly know what that’s like,” Miss Anne agreed, and of course, she didn’t add that she hadn’t had a night of good, deep sleep since the attack on Pearl Harbor and the conflicts it had created in the most private recesses of her own soul.

“Miss Anne, why did Mr. Oto go off so suddenly?” The question was entirely unexpected and found Miss Anne unprepared to answer. She would have expected a question like that from Ruth, but not from Sophie. So that she stared at Sophie dumbly for several long moments before she could answer.

“It’s just what he decided to do,” she said finally.

“He didn’t say why?”

Miss Anne noticed how carefully Sophie was speaking. Obviously, Sophie was wondering if that terrible gossip had made the quiet and gentle Mr. Oto so miserable that he had to leave. “No, he didn’t. It was just something he decided to do.’’

“Oh.”

“But I know what’s bothering you, Sophie,” Miss Anne said in an entirely gentle voice.

“You do?” Sophie felt just as if she’d had an electric shock. Just what did her old friend know? And if worst came to worst and she suspected that Sophie truly had cared for Mr. Oto—beyond simple friendship—then she would know more than Sophie had been willing to admit, even to herself.