Plum Wine: A Novel

Chapter 31

4 295 4 31 E arly the next morning Seiji picked Barbara up from the Yokohagis and took her to the station where she was to catch a train to Yonago. Though they said little during the drive, there was an almost palpable closeness between them. They stood silently in the ticket line as it inched forward. “I don’t want to leave,” she said in a low voice. “I can drive you,” he said. “I have been thinking of it.” “All the way to Yonago?” “We can go to H¯agi, beautiful town on the Japan Sea, which is famous for ceramic. You will enjoy very much, I think. If you don’t mind to delay your visit to Yonago a day or so.” “I don’t mind at all.” “Let me show you.” He led her to a map hanging on the wall and traced the route from Hiroshima to H¯agi. “Then, after our visit, you can take train to Yonago.” His finger moved north along the coastline . “Nice ride of only a few hours.” They stood smiling at each other. “How long will it take to get to H¯agi?” she asked. “We can reach there this afternoon. “So we will stay tonight?” “Many nights,” he said. “I think maybe just two days . . . Miss Ota is expecting me.” She was nervous, going to call Miss Ota. As she dialed the number , she tried to think of an excuse, but all she managed to say was, “I’m sorry, I’ve been delayed.” “It is no matter,” Miss Ota said. “Arrive any time at all, my dear, just let us know when you are coming. I imagine you must find the experience of Hiroshima enervating.” Seiji telephoned an inn in H¯agi to make a reservation, and they carried her bag back out to the truck. She noticed his suitcase was already there, in the bed of the truck. “What were your plans?” she said. “To go to H¯agi,” he said with a grin. “You’re very sure of yourself.” “No, it is only I have foolish hope.” They drove through the city and into gently rolling farmland. After the past few days, everything seemed miraculous to her—the orange groves, the air fragrant with the smells of earth and growing things, his hand on hers. She sat close to him; the wind blew her hair against his face. She held it back with her other hand, then took out a scarf to tie it back. “No,” he said, pulling off the scarf. He caught a handful of her hair and held it against his face. They began to climb into mountainous terrain, with deep, heavily wooded valleys. At Tsuwano—a famous old castle town, he told her—they got out to stretch their legs, walking along the narrow streets past thatch houses and shops. They went into a small museum devoted to the work of Hokusai. On display was the series Thirty Six Views of Mt. Fuji. Seiji pointed out one of the prints and said “This is at the Tokkaido Pass—very near to us in Hakone.” 4 296 4 4 297 4 Back in the truck, she asked, “Why did you leave so suddenly from Hakone?” “I was frightened by strong feeling I have not experienced before.” “Were you ever in love—as a young man?” “Only schoolboy love. Then came war and my illness, after that my time with Nakamoto sensei.” Barbara stared past him out the window, wondering what Michi would think of their affair. She imagined her shocked face. But I didn’t know, Barbara wanted to tell her, I had no idea. She looked at Seiji, the profile she’d come to know so well. Michi would have forgiven him everything, even the papers, if she could have seen the care he took yesterday, laying her to rest. “Thank you for taking me to Mitaki Temple yesterday,” she said, “and for showing me where you and Michi-san grew up. I’ll never forget that.” “I wish I could forget,” he said. They stopped once more, for lunch, then she went to sleep, her head against his shoulder, not waking until he touched her arm. “We are here,” he said. The inn was elegant and quiet. They were shown to a large room with sliding doors that opened onto a private garden. Their host—a shy man in glasses—said that dinner would be ready soon. Would they...