"Because Granny's so much older than all my friends' grandmothers."

"Oh." That simple logic had never occurred to Sarah.

They sat in silence. Sarah's anger, now drained, was replaced by dawning horror at what she had just done. If the grown-ups ever found out...! Her mother's new tenderness, her place in the women's circle, everything would be ruined.

"You can never, never tell anyone you know," said Sarah desperately. "Do you promise? Ne, Ne, do you promise?" do you promise?"

"Nnn," agreed Momoko in that bland, agreeable way of children. It did not inspire confidence. agreed Momoko in that bland, agreeable way of children. It did not inspire confidence.

Sarah thrust out her pinkie finger, and Momoko hooked it with her own. But Sarah felt doomed. An eleven-year-old child could not be trusted. She herself had already slipped up, and she'd known for less than a month.

"Sarah-chan, don't pick at your food," said Mrs. Rexford. "It's an insult to your grandmother's cooking."

In the two days since the incident with Momoko, Sarah had eaten hardly anything but rice and umeboshi. To the puzzlement of the adults, she had taken to watching television in the middle of the day until Mrs. Rexford firmly turned off the TV set. This afternoon Sarah had hidden away on the garden veranda and watched Mr. Kobayashi sketching designs for his upcoming show.

She now gave a short bow of apology toward her grandmother. She choked down a bite of breaded prawn. Her mother watched her with an inscrutable expression.

"Let's go for a stroll," said Mrs. Rexford after dinner. "I want to show you a special place."

Mother and daughter strolled through the lanes until they reached the main thoroughfare. It was pleasantly busy with evening traffic: people coasting by, straight backed, on bicycles; locals strolling to the bathhouse carrying plastic washbasins and towels.

With the sureness of a local, Mrs. Rexford slipped into a small opening between a cigarette shop and a bus-token stand. Here, tucked away from the outside world, was a pocket-sized temple area. A roofed platform displayed a standing stone Buddha with an outstretched hand. At the foot of the statue lay homely offerings of flowers, in gla.s.s household jars washed clean of labels.

"I like this little place," said Mrs. Rexford. She headed for a bench and Sarah followed her. In the dim gray light of evening, this little clearing had a magical quality. They sat for a while in peaceful companionship.

After a while her mother turned to her and said, very gently, "What's wrong?"

Before this tenderness to which she was still unaccustomed, Sarah crumbled. As she blurted out her secret, she watched her mother's eyes change from puzzled concern to sharp comprehension. At this, she began to cry with dry, harsh sobs.

"I don't know why I did it," she sobbed. And it was true, for at this point her reasons seemed nothing short of insane.

She hadn't cried like this with her mother in years. Some detached part of her now savored this reversion to childhood, knowing it was probably the last time she would cry with such abandon.

As if from a great distance, she heard her mother saying, "Sarah-chan, Sarah-chan, it's not the end of the world. I'm not angry. There's no need to cry."

She lifted her eyes. The light had grown slightly grayer. In the silence between her hiccups, she could hear the peaceful pulsing of crickets.

"Momoko would have found out sometime," Mrs. Rexford said.

"She wasn't supposed...to know until..." Traditionally, adopted children weren't told of their status until they came of age. Neighbors and friends were trusted to keep a discreet silence.

"Oh, that doesn't matter with the second generation," said Mrs. Rexford. "A grandmother's hardly the same thing as a mother."

"But why...then...all the secrecy..."

"It's to protect Granny Asaki. She wants so much for those girls to think of her as their real grandmother. She'd be really hurt if they switched their affections to someone else. But as long as they pretend not to know about it, there's no harm done."

"But I'm afraid...Momo-chan will blab. I've been so worried."

"It'll be all right," said Mrs. Rexford confidently. "Sure, she might tell someone, but it'll be her mother, it won't be Granny. That girl knows her way around. This is how it is when you grow up in a complicated family. Your aunt and I were like that too. We were used to the pressure, so we never buckled."

Sarah felt utterly chastened.

"I'll go talk to your auntie tomorrow, just to make sure," Mrs. Rexford said. "But don't worry. It'll be all right."

"Will she be mad?" At the thought of her aunt's gentle face, Sarah almost began to cry again.

"To tell you the truth," her mother said, "I think she'd like her girls to know who their real grandma is." There was a knowing quality in her voice that made Sarah realize that the sisters, for all their differences, shared some deep, unspoken rapport.

"Slipups happen to the best of us," Mrs. Rexford continued. "Your auntie learned about her situation when she was about Momoko's age."

"Oh no..."

"She heard a rumor at school and came to me to ask if it was true. She was quiet, kind of shaken. She seemed so alone. I sat her down and told her that our mother never wanted to give her away, that she'd always regretted it. I think it helped. I hope hope it helped." it helped."

They sat quietly. The dusk had deepened, and the standing Buddha was now a flat, dark silhouette.

"Did she talk to Granny?"

"No. We kept that conversation a secret from the adults. To this very day, neither your grandma nor Granny has any idea she found out early."

Sarah lifted her face to look at her mother. Their eyes met in relief that they had been spared such a fate.

Never again was Sarah fully at ease around the Asaki household.

She was ashamed to meet her aunt Masako's eyes. And in Momoko she no longer saw a simple child, but an additional complication in the forward-thinking game. Now, if her grandmother bought her a new dress or a trinket, Sarah hid it from her cousins. She constantly searched Momoko's eyes, alert for any signs of jealousy.

If she could be so angry after just one look from Mrs. Asaki, then how could it not be different for her aunt and cousin? What resentments did they feel that they could not express?

Thus it came about that Sarah drew away from the Asaki house, choosing to adopt the social boundaries of her elders. As the years pa.s.sed, the distance between the girls would grow to resemble that of the generation before them.

chapter 15.

In the parlor, next to the tokonoma alcove, a narrow storage recess ran horizontally along the wall. It had miniature sliding doors made of the same durable paper as the the parlor, next to the tokonoma alcove, a narrow storage recess ran horizontally along the wall. It had miniature sliding doors made of the same durable paper as the fusuma fusuma room dividers. This s.p.a.ce had been designed to store seasonal hanging scrolls, but the Kobayashis used it for their photograph alb.u.ms. room dividers. This s.p.a.ce had been designed to store seasonal hanging scrolls, but the Kobayashis used it for their photograph alb.u.ms.

Five years ago Sarah had preferred the newer vinyl alb.u.ms, filled with pictures of herself as a baby and a toddler. But ever since the talk about black-market rice and snakes and adoptions, she had become curious about the older alb.u.ms at the back of the shelf. Those books were of better quality, covered with aged fabric that had faded to shades of brown and indigo. Their silk ta.s.sels, now rust colored, still had centers of bright purple.

Today she was leafing hurriedly through the "war and occupation" alb.u.m. There weren't many pictures from that period, barely enough to fill up the book. The photographs were tiny. Some were the size of playing cards and others even smaller, glued onto the black cardboard pages like stamps in a collection.

She was looking for a specific photograph, and here it was: the only picture of Mr. Kobayashi's former wife. It had been taken in their garden in Manchuria, a year before she contracted typhoid fever and died. She had a round, blank face and rosebud lips, exactly like a kokeshi kokeshi doll, and she was so pet.i.te she made young Mr. Kobayashi look tall in contrast. The baby boy bundled in her arms would also contract the fever, but survive. After the war, Mr. Kobayashi would bring his sickly baby back to j.a.pan and marry Sarah's widowed grandmother. This baby was Sarah's uncle Teinosuke. doll, and she was so pet.i.te she made young Mr. Kobayashi look tall in contrast. The baby boy bundled in her arms would also contract the fever, but survive. After the war, Mr. Kobayashi would bring his sickly baby back to j.a.pan and marry Sarah's widowed grandmother. This baby was Sarah's uncle Teinosuke.

She was looking for this picture because her uncle was coming for lunch today, and she had overheard her grandmother saying in wry tones that Teinosuke took after his mother. To the girl's disappointment, the face on the page revealed no new clues to the woman's personality. She scrutinized the picture, remembering Mrs. Asaki's words at their last tea. She had always a.s.sumed this doll-like creature was a romantic lost love, a parallel to her grandmother's Shohei. But in fact she had been second choice...just as her husband was now.

Sarah's uncle lived almost two hours away in Osaka. He was the same age as Mrs. Nishimura, and he was a bachelor. More important, he was insignificant within the family. He was on the periphery of the women's "outside" circle.

But none of this was outwardly evident. When he arrived, a heaping platter of his favorite food was awaiting him on the low dining table: fried pot stickers stuffed with pork, ginger, and garlic. This was accompanied by individual dipping bowls of soy sauce, vinegar, and hot chili oil. "Chili oil makes you sweat," Mrs. Kobayashi had explained to Sarah as they set the table. "Sweating is very healthy in the summer."

Teinosuke Kobayashi was noticeably shorter than his stepmother and stepsister. Either the babyhood fever had stunted his growth, or else he had inherited his natural mother's pet.i.te frame. Young Teinosuke had been afflicted, all throughout grade school, with thin, flyaway hair ("sort of brownish, like a Caucasian baby, very strange," Mrs. Rexford said), which was surely a lingering effect of the fever. Perhaps the illness had also affected his ability to learn. His grades were poor, and he was the only child in their entire extended family who had not gone to college.

But now, in adulthood, he exuded good health. Peering up at the others from under a glossy shock of black hair, he tucked into the gyoza heartily, his Adam's apple working up and down. He talked unendingly about business-he worked with insurance of some kind-in a loud, knowing voice.

"Aaa," replied his father, nodding and chuckling affably. " replied his father, nodding and chuckling affably. "Aaa...Aaa... is that right." But eventually the elder Mr. Kobayashi excused himself from the table and returned to his workshop. Over the years, his son's academic and professional disappointments had cooled his interest. For Mr. Kobayashi, who had always lived in the shadow of his more accomplished brother, success was extremely important. is that right." But eventually the elder Mr. Kobayashi excused himself from the table and returned to his workshop. Over the years, his son's academic and professional disappointments had cooled his interest. For Mr. Kobayashi, who had always lived in the shadow of his more accomplished brother, success was extremely important.

After Mr. Kobayashi's departure, there was an awkward silence.

"Tei-kun," said Mrs. Rexford. "Are you still playing pac.h.i.n.ko as much as you used to?"

Her stepbrother replied, rather stiffly, that he was.

"Take me sometime," she teased. "Come on!"

"No!" he said, scandalized. "You know nice women don't go to pac.h.i.n.ko parlors!"

"You could be my chaperone. It would be fun."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head grimly. "It wouldn't be proper." But exercising this masculine authority had revived his confidence; before long he was bragging again about business.

Long ago, Teinosuke Kobayashi had wielded great power within the family. As a child he had been instinctively clever about leveraging his position as a sick, motherless boy. When his stepmother disciplined him he sought out his father and complained, knowing he would get full sympathy. For Mr. Kobayashi had finally realized that although his wife performed all her duties with conscientious effort, she was never going to love him. And he found little ways to punish her for it.

Teinosuke also had a champion in Mrs. Asaki. If he ran down the lane to tell on his stepmother, the older woman marched right over to the Kobayashi house to demand an explanation for the boy's tears. In those days, despite the boundaries protecting her own adopted daughter, Mrs. Asaki had no qualms about meddling and keeping her sister-in-law in her place.

Yoko, several years older than her stepbrother, had watched all this and seethed. Knowing better than to confront Mrs. Asaki or her stepfather, she did all she could to make life easier for her mother. Her grades were impeccable, as was her conduct at home. She kept a sharp eye on Teinosuke. She itched to punish him in private, but that would have created even more trouble for her mother.

Sarah had little sense of how hard those years had been for her grandmother. But she did understand that time had brought about a gradual power shift. She felt great sympathy for her uncle. Apparently her mother did too; her stepbrother's reduced position brought out a n.o.blesse oblige that was so warm and natural, so heartfelt, that even Sarah fell under its spell. Of course Mrs. Rexford was capable of putting on an act. And yet-the girl was sure of it-there was genuine kindness there, a kindness that belied or at least balanced out her earlier disparaging remarks.

"Remember that time, Tei-kun," Mrs. Rexford was saying, "when you ate three bowls of noodle soup at one sitting? Aaa, Aaa, those were the days, weren't they?" those were the days, weren't they?"

"They were, Big Sister," he said. Sarah was moved by his childish honorific.

After a leisurely lunch, Teinosuke took his leave. He ruffled Sarah's hair before stepping down into the vestibule. He had always been a kind uncle.

Afterward, washing dishes in the kitchen, Mrs. Rexford gave a snort of laughter. "Good Lord!" she said. "Will he ever stop putting on airs." But she didn't seem bothered. In fact, she seemed quite cheerful.

"You know what?" she told her mother. "I think living in America has liberated me."

"Soh? How's that?" How's that?"

"I didn't feel any anger today," Mrs. Rexford said. "Not even a twinge. It's all gone." She hummed a little tune as she rinsed a porcelain dipping bowl.

"You did seem to have a good time," agreed Mrs. Kobayashi. She took the wet bowl from her daughter's hand and wiped it with a dishcloth.

"That's because I have perspective," Mrs. Rexford boasted. "I can empathize with the little boy he used to be."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"This is so encouraging," said Mrs. Rexford happily. "If it can happen with someone like Teinosuke, just think how nice it's going to be when Tama comes to visit!"

chapter 16.

Tama Kobayashi-now Mrs. Tama Izumi-was Mrs. Kobayashi's final child, the only offspring of the second marriage. She lived in Tokyo with her husband and little boy. In a few days, they would be riding out on the bullet train for an extended visit. Kobayashi-now Mrs. Tama Izumi-was Mrs. Kobayashi's final child, the only offspring of the second marriage. She lived in Tokyo with her husband and little boy. In a few days, they would be riding out on the bullet train for an extended visit.

"It's good timing," Mrs. Rexford told Sarah. "You can relax around your aunt Tama. She's real real family." They exchanged a knowing glance. family." They exchanged a knowing glance.

Sarah couldn't wait. Her aunt Tama had been pretty and fun-loving, with fashionable clothes and bright lipstick. The girl could remember a time when her aunt was still unmarried, when she used to live here at home. She was constantly going off on dates in her fiance's sports car instead of taking the streetcar like everyone else. Little Sarah, intoxicated by this whiff of an exciting outside world, had trailed her everywhere. She had fantasized about having her for a big sister. She had fantasized about having her for a mother.

In preparation for the Izumis' visit, Mrs. Kobayashi and Mrs. Rexford began pulling down extra futons from the storage closet. They hung them out to air in the laundry area, which was a tiny cement courtyard with a covered drain in the middle. One accessed it through the family room, stepping down from an inner veranda onto a neat row of red plastic utility slippers. This roofless s.p.a.ce was rigged with washing lines for light items such as clothing, and st.u.r.dy bamboo poles for the heavier items. The strong summer sun flooded down, and the air quickly became suffused with the scent of warm cotton.

"Little Jun and his father can sleep in the receiving room," panted Mrs. Kobayashi as the two women, working in unison, heaved a silk coverlet over a lowered bamboo pole. Its patterned side faced out. The red and blue carp were slightly faded from age and sun, but the silk had been protected from human skin by a wide rim of white cotton casing. "Tama can squeeze in with the two of you in the parlor."

"Banzai!" cried Sarah happily. She was perched on the ledge of the inner veranda, swinging her bare legs and watching her elders as she nibbled on a snack of dried whitebait and cheese.

"So as I was saying"-Mrs. Rexford was also panting-"I was always so harsh to her and now I feel bad about it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," said Mrs. Kobayashi. "You were only children."

The women lifted the bamboo pole in unison. Raised arms trembling with effort, each fitted her end into the loop of twine hanging overhead. Then Mrs. Rexford said, "I have a confession to make. Remember that time Tama drank the entire bottle of rationed milk from the icebox?"

"I do. I had to lie and tell Father I'd mismanaged the household funds. Aaa, Aaa, he was so angry..." he was so angry..."

"Well," said Mrs. Rexford, "I cornered Tama afterward. I was so mad I slapped her, right across the face."

"Oh, Yo-chan! She was just a little girl!" Then after a pause, "What did she do?"

"She stood there and sniffled. I said, 'Look what you've done! My mother's getting yelled at, and it's all because of you!'

"She looked ashamed, but she stuck out her chin and said, 'She's my my mother too.' I told her, 'Then act like it!'" mother too.' I told her, 'Then act like it!'"

Having finished with the futons, the two women climbed up onto the veranda and into the shade of the family room. Sinking down gratefully onto the floor cushions, they picked up round paper uchiwa uchiwa and fanned the moisture from their faces. and fanned the moisture from their faces.