The Scent of Sake (35 page)

As Rie looked at the tense expressions on both faces she recalled her mother’s words on the eve of her marriage to Jihei. She hesitated, then repeated the words to her daughters: “Sometimes, a woman must ‘kill the self’ in order to survive. What this means is that we women can never behave selfishly. We must never lose sight of the welfare and interests of the house. These are our reasons for being. When you have children you will understand these things better. But you have understood what I have taught you. These things are the key to your survival and also to contentment in life, the satisfaction of knowing that you have done your duty and done your best for your house.” Rie stopped speaking and smiled inwardly at each anxious expression.

Fumi and Kazu had not taken their eyes from Rie’s face as she talked. She thought she detected a pout on Teru’s face as she listened with her sisters. Rie poured tea for her daughters. She glanced at Kazu’s expression of earnest concern. Fumi leaned against her mother, as if for assurance. Rie glanced at Teru. Why was it that Rie always felt a hint of insolence in Teru? Was it because she was O-Toki’s daughter, or was it only her imagination? Teru’s meetings with Goro were a nagging worry. Rie had done her best to prepare them, even to the point of making certain that O-Yuki handed them all an illustrated booklet of advice to brides, supposedly without Rie’s knowledge. Still, Teru’s conversations with

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Goro were a festering concern, and yet she couldn’t marry all three daughters at the same time. Jihei’s death had already delayed the others.

“Now, get some rest, girls. I have confidence you will do well in your new homes.” Rie rose and touched the arm of each daughter. With a touch of melancholy, she watched the girls walk down the corridor whispering, their arms tightly intertwined.

The wedding kimonos for Fumi and Kazu were similar but not identical: the finest white silk with Chinese red lining that could be glimpsed each time the bride took a small pigeon-toed step. The obis were white brocade patterned subtly with plum, pine, and bamboo. Rie made certain that the expenditures for Fumi’s wedding was a bit larger, though not so much as to be overtly noticeable.

“I don’t want to impose the cost of two wedding gifts in one year for Omura weddings on many brewers or friends, so I’m dividing the guest lists,” Rie said to Sunao.

“Then the girls’ weddings will be smaller than Yoshi’s, won’t they?” Sunao asked.

“Oh, yes. His was more important. And Fumi’s will be too.

Remember, I told you I want to adopt a husband for her.” “How could I forget?” Sunao replied. “I’m looking forward

to it. People won’t know what to make of it, will they?” She laughed, her plump face dimpled. “It isn’t as if you didn’t have a son. What an enigma you are sometimes, Rie.”

Rie smiled, took out her comb and then reinserted it. She looked at her cousin. “I’m so grateful to you, Sunao, for taking the time to help me. I just don’t have your taste in kimonos. And I value your company.”

“I enjoy doing it. I always enjoy working with fabrics.” Fumi’s wedding was a grand affair, and nearly all brewers in

Kobe were invited, including Saburo and his wife, at whom Rie stole surreptitious glances from time to time while he did the

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same. Rie was able to glance at Saburo just as he looked at her, and they shared the briefest of smiles before both looking at Fumi. Rie realized that Saburo knew Fumi was his daughter; she felt warmed and smiled inwardly.

He would have noticed that the shape of Fumi’s face echoed his.

Fumi and Eitaro of the Ikeda family behaved with such propriety. Yoshi gave the speeches on behalf of the house and did a most creditable job. By now the servants were all experienced in serving large numbers of guests and caused Rie no concern.

Despite Yoshi’s obvious displeasure that Fumi and her husband would remain in the house while Eitaro was being trained to assume the burdens of head of a branch family, Rie was pleased by the addition. So far things were going as planned. It was almost too good to be true. Fumi and her husband were given a room just below Yoshi and Tama’s. The house was becoming a continual hub of activity, and Tama was assuming some of the household responsibilities so that Rie was able to spend more time in the office on business matters.

Kazu’s wedding went as planned, a respectable affair with what everyone said was a well-trained bride. Kazu, Rie was gratified to note, kept her eyes modestly downcast during the entire ceremony and the long laudatory speeches at the reception. Kazu was now a member of the Nagata family and no longer Rie’s responsibility.

At the reception Sunao turned to Rie. “Did you hear that, Rie?” Sunao asked, leaning over in a whisper. “Mrs. Akita said she had never seen such a subtle shade of apricot.”

Rie squeezed Sunao’s hand. “Good. You chose well.”

At both weddings Rie’s glance lingered on Saburo Kato and she felt the old feeling of longing, of regret that their time together had been so brief, all those years ago. Rie was nevertheless able to exchange special smiles with Saburo as she nodded to

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three handsome sons who accompanied their parents. Without wishing to appear too obvious Rie asked Mrs. Kato for the names of her three sons.

“They are Hiro’ichi, Jirobei, and Isamu,” she replied, smiling. “Jirobei and Hiro’ichi are already married.”

“
Ah,
is that so?” Rie said with a proper bow and smile. Mrs. Kato had given her exactly the information she wanted. She looked closely at the youngest son and decided to make careful inquiries of Mrs. Nakano. In all these years Rie had cherished the notion that perhaps Kazu or Teru might marry a son of Saburo.

That night as she combed her hair she smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Only Teru and Sei remained. She hoped to get her married to Isamu, thereby linking her family with the family of Saburo Kato forever.

Over the next few months Rie spoke with Mrs. Nakano again, and began the negotiations that would lead to the fruition of a cherished dream. Rie made certain that Teru realized what a prize she would have as her husband.

A cold relentless rain was pelting the roofs of the Omura compound. It was nearly midnight, the hour of the tiger. Teru rolled out of her futon and slipped out of the room and along the corridor to the door to the compound area. She pulled her cloak tightly around her head and ran across to the cooper’s shed.

“Goro, are you there?” she said in a loud whisper.

“Over here.” He loomed out of the black mist and took hold of Teru’s arm. “Come, let’s go around to the other side of the shed where it’s drier and there’s no danger of being seen.”

The two slapped through the puddles holding hands, around to the back of the shed.

“Goro, Mother is insisting that I marry that Isamu Kato. The o-miai was three days ago. I can’t marry him. I won’t!” She clung to Goro and choked out her words.

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Goro put his arms around her and held her tightly. “I know.” He rubbed her back.

“I want to be with you. I’d rather die than marry that self-important prig,” she moaned.

“What can we do? My parents are already arranging my marriage too.”

“There’s one way we can be together, Goro. Forever.” She gazed into Goro’s eyes.

Goro’s eyes fixed hungrily on Teru’s face. “What do you mean?”

Her voice took on a strangely calm cadence. “You know what they did in the Chikamatsu dramas? I’ve seen it at Bunraku.”

“You mean . . . you mean
shinju
, lovers’ suicide?” Goro stuttered out the word.

“Yes! Yes! That way we can be together forever! They can’t stop us!”

Goro moved his hand up and down Teru’s back. “But . . . could you do that, Teru? Could I?”

“We would do it together, Goro. Give each other the courage. We can go to the beach at night, the way the lovers did in the Chikamatsu play.”

Goro looked down at Teru’s eager, beautiful face and took it in his hands. He kissed her, for the first time, lingering at the taste of her lips.

Teru pressed her body against Goro’s insistently.

He put his hands on Teru’s shoulders and moved back to look into her face. “We’d better consider carefully, Teru. Plan in detail and make certain that we have the courage to succeed.”

“I’m certain,” said Teru, her voice sharp, almost metallic. “The life Mother has chosen for me has no meaning. I can’t live that way. A brief time with you, however brief, is better than a whole lifetime with that Kato person. We would be together, Goro, really together.” She clung to him fiercely.

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“I can see how strong you are, Teru. You have the strength of a tiger, at the hour of the tiger.” He smiled briefly. He felt his need for her growing, felt the pressure in his groin.

“The wedding is set for three weeks from now,” Teru said. “We can meet here a week from tonight, and be ready to go to the beach.” She reached her arms around Goro’s neck and kissed him on the mouth. “Be strong, Goro. We’ll be together forever.” She turned and ran back to the house.

“Only two weeks until Teru’s marriage. It will be a relief, won’t it, O-Natsu,” Rie said, “to have her wedding out of the way? Teru has been such a worry, with her geisha’s ways.”

O-Natsu nodded.

Rie was glad she had never informed either Kazu or Teru that she was not their birth mother, and that neither O-Yumi nor O-Toki had been invited to the weddings of their daughters. The real parentage of the two girls was not common knowledge among Kobe brewers, though O-Natsu said there were rumors.

“What does it really matter, O-Natsu?” Rie said. “The children of mistresses are often recognized, taken in by reputable houses. What matters is that I have raised them as members of the house. They really are Omura daughters.”

O-Natsu refrained from pointing out that while this was true of geisha sons, it was most unusual to recognize geisha daughters.

Exactly one week had elapsed since Teru’s midnight tryst with Goro. The hour of the tiger approached. Several times during

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the week Teru had gone into the garden or stopped in front of the Butsudan when she found it necessary to be alone with her thoughts, with her fateful decision. She knew it was her resolve more than Goro’s willingness that would enable them to act out their plan. She did not want to weaken at the last minute.

Teru pushed out of her futon and reached under it for the white obi sash she had hidden there only hours earlier. She thrust it into her kimono sleeve and moved quietly along the corridor to the door to the compound. She slid the shoji open slowly and looked out into the courtyard. The night was clear and cloudless. She decided against taking her cloak. What difference would the chill of November make? Besides, Goro would warm her. She looked toward the shed and could just make out his silhouette in the moonlight. She glanced back at the house as she emerged from it, this house where she had been taught endurance, discipline, and obedience, those virtues so prized by her mother. Well, Fumi, the perfect daughter and sister, was welcome to them.