Silent Honor (30 page)

“No, not exactly.” Reiko smiled ruefully, accepting a cigarette from him. It was so good to have him back again, to share things with him, and have someone to talk to. No matter how disillusioned he was, he was the man she had loved for twenty years, her best friend, her partner. She was sad for Hiroko that she couldn't share the same relationship with the baby's father. “She's been hiding this from us, Tak,” Reiko explained, still unable to believe what the girl had been doing to herself. “She was so tightly bound, she almost strangled herself. God only knows what that does to the baby. She was completely unconscious, and we had no idea why until we undressed her. She had almost stopped breathing.”

“Poor kid. I suppose I can guess who the father is, or can I? Have I missed something?” Maybe there had been someone else, she was so discreet there was no knowing, but Reiko didn't think so.

“It must be Peter,” she agreed, “but she won't tell me. I think she's afraid to. Maybe she's afraid they'll do something to him, or take the baby away. Or maybe she's protecting us. I don't know.”

“Do you suppose he knows?” Tak smoked his cigarette thoughtfully. It was one of the few pleasures he still had there.

“I have no idea, but somehow I doubt it. I can't imagine she'd dare to write it to him, even if she wanted to. Not if she's afraid even to tell us.” And then she thought of something else that concerned her. This was not an easy situation, but most of all not for Hiroko. “What do you think we should say to the children?”

“There's not much we can say. She's having a baby, and we love her, and we'll love the baby. And that's that,” he said matter-of-factly.

Reiko smiled at him, faintly amused by the simplicity of the statement. “I'll remind you of that if this ever happens to Sally.”

“That's different.” He laughed and shook his head, looking at his wife with appreciation and affection. She always saw the humor in things, and helped him to. He loved that and many things about her, along with her good nature. “If it were Sally, I'd kill her. Hiroko's not my daughter.” And then he thought about it. “Poor kid. She's been through an awful lot, and now this. I guess that's why she was always so sick to her stomach at Tanforan. I sure never suspected this.”

“Neither did I,” Reiko admitted, and then she looked at her husband again. “Do you suppose he'll marry her, if it's his?”

But Takeo was quick to answer. “He would have anyway, Rei. He's crazy about her. And it probably is his. It's funny, I noticed something different about them there. They used to go on those long walks every afternoon, but I couldn't imagine they'd get themselves into trouble. But they were always so close, so bound to each other, the way married people are. I'm surprised he didn't marry her before he left.”

“I don't think she wanted to, without her father's consent.” Reiko guessed correctly, as Hiroko walked slowly out of the house and stood before them.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, her head bowed, aching at having brought shame on them. She had somehow thought that she could keep it a secret forever, which was childish.

“We love you,” Reiko said, and put an arm around her, and then she smiled as she looked down at her tummy. It reminded her of her own children when they were born. It had been a good time for her and Tak. She was only sorry for Hiroko that this wouldn't be easy, and she had only them, and not a husband.

“When is it coming?” Takeo asked quietly, turning to look at her as she blushed again. She was still wrestling with the embarrassment and at the same time she was proud, and happy that she had Peter's baby.

“In February,” she answered softly, “perhaps March.”

He nodded then, looking up at the sky, thinking of many things, his own life, his marriage, his children …and Peter. And then he smiled at her, and put an arm around her too. “That's a good time to have a baby.
It'll
be spring then … a new beginning, a new life…. Maybe a new world for all of us by then.” “Thank you, Uncle Tak,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek, as she closed her eyes and thought of Peter, and prayed he would still be safe then.

Chapter 14

T
HE CHILDREN'S
reactions to Hiroko's pregnancy were mixed. Tami was thrilled, Ken was surprised and protective of her, and Sally was less than sympathetic. She was annoyed that everyone was suddenly being so solicitous of her, in spite of what she'd done, and she had more than one argument about it with her mother.

“If I had done that, you and Daddy would have killed me.”

Reiko smiled, remembering what Tak had said along just those lines, and agreed with her. “Probably. But this is a little different. She's nineteen years old, almost twenty, she's in a different situation, and she's not our daughter.”

“It's still disgusting anyway, that everyone is acting like she's the Virgin Mary waiting for baby Jesus.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Sally, don't be so unkind to her. The poor thing is all alone, and this is a terrible situation for any girl to be in.”

“Does she even know who the father is?” Sally asked rudely, and her mother glowered at her.

“We're not discussing that. All I'm saying is that we need to be nice to her, and help her take care of the baby.”

“Well, don't count on me to baby-sit. Just think of what my friends will say.” She was mortified, but Reiko was not sorry for her. It had happened to plenty of other girls over the years, and it was not up to Sally to be throwing stones at her cousin.

“A lot will depend on how you explain it to them,” her mother said firmly.

“I don't need to, Mom, everyone can see it.”

They did, but very few people commented on it. In the difficult life they had led, it almost went unnoticed. And to some, they thought it provided a sign of hope and new life, and they thought she was lucky. No one ostracized her, or said anything. A few asked when the baby was due, but most people said nothing. And absolutely no one inquired about the father.

Reiko and Tak asked her a few more times, but she refused to confirm their suspicions, or even say anything about it. And in the month of December, she had several more letters from Peter. He was still in North Africa, and he was well. He had absolutely no idea what was happening to Hiroko, and his letters were full of declarations of love for her, as hers were to him. She gave him news of Reiko and Tak, and the kids, and said fairly little about the camp, and nothing at all about the baby. He had asked for a photograph of her, but she had none with her, other than the one he had given her of both of them, and no one in camp was allowed to have a camera, so it was easy to ignore his requests for pictures.

The anniversary of Pearl Harbor was a quiet day for all of them, except at Manzanar, where they later heard that tempers had run high and there had been a riot over mess hall administration. Two were killed and ten were wounded, and it sobered everyone at Tule Lake even further. And the guards became suddenly more restrictive.

After that, everyone turned their sights toward Christmas. Takeo was teaching in the high school by then, and Reiko was busy at the infirmary helping the few doctors tend to colds and the occasional appendectomy, and influenza. And Hiroko had gone back to work after two days of rest and she felt fine now. And every night, she and Tak had a secret project. He was helping her make a dollhouse for Tami, he had made the frame, and was making the furniture, and Hiroko was making all the wall decorations, the rugs, and curtains and tiny paintings. In some ways, although it wasn't as expensively made, it was even more elaborate than her old one. And they had been very creative about substituting one thing for another.

He was also working on a Monopoly game for her, and he and Reiko were having a great time putting it together. He was making a chess game for Ken too. And Reiko was knitting a beautiful pink angora sweater for Sally, from wool she'd ordered from Montgomery Ward with most of her salary.

Reiko had knitted a sweater for Tak too, and she'd sent away for a warm jacket for him with the rest of her money. And she and her whole knitting club had been knitting tiny little things to give Hiroko a shower after Christmas. Tak was carving her a little cradle too.

And on Christmas Day, they were all surprised with their presents from each other. Tak had bought Reiko a beautiful dress from the Sears catalog with his meager earnings, and Hiroko had given them both a poem she had written about what they meant to her, called “Winter Storms, Summer Rainbows.” And everyone loved their presents.

But the only gift anyone wanted that year was freedom. Regardless of that, it was a lovely day, in spite of where they were, and most people in the camp tried not to think of where they had been the year before, or who they had been with. The old men played go, their checker game, the women chatted and sewed, people ate and talked and dreamed, and visited each other in their little rooms, with handmade decorations. They had been incarcerated and locked up, and almost everything had been taken from them, but it was impossible to take away their spirit. They were all determined to keep going and be strong, for themselves and each other. Hiroko thought of that when she played with the symphony at the Christmas concert.

And on New Year's Eve, there was a dance at the recreation building, and a swing band that Ken had just joined played. Hiroko went to watch for a little while, and one young man asked her to dance, but she blushed and said she couldn't. Under her heavy coat, he hadn't noticed her stomach.

In January, the Germans surrendered at Stalingrad, which was an important victory for the Allies. At Tule Lake it was a quiet month, except another wave of influenza hit the camp, this one worse than any of the others. It went on for almost a month, and a few of the old people died and others were in grave danger.

And much to everyone's surprise, at the end of January, the Selective Service had reopened for Japanese men and boys and the “privilege” of volunteering for the military had been restored to them. But Ken no longer wanted to go into the army, he didn't see why he should volunteer now to serve a country that had betrayed him. Most of the other young men felt the same, and they were still in an uproar over it when camp officials asked everyone to sign a loyalty oath in the first week of February. To many of the internees, the loyalty oath was not a problem. They were all loyal to the United States, but to Ken, and many young men like him, they felt even more betrayed by the questions they were asked and the answers that were required of them. There were two questions in particular that irked them, one asking if they would be willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty, wherever ordered, and the other was if they would foreswear any allegiance to Japan or the Emperor, neither of which should have worried anyone, since so many were Americans or had lived in the States all their lives. But the young men like Ken were particularly outraged to have had all their rights taken away from them, and now be asked if they were willing to die for a country that had treated them so badly. Ken had been desperate to join the army for over a year, but after being betrayed and incarcerated for months, he no longer wanted to serve, or do anything for his country.

And like him, just on principle, many of the young men refused to answer those two questions positively, and as a result got labeled the No-No Boys, for the two questions they refused to say yes to, and they were swiftly sent off to segregation at the higher-security area at Tule Lake, for further interrogation.

It created a huge outcry in all the camps, and Ken still hadn't signed the oath two days after he'd been shown it. Everyone else in the family had, and Ken and his father argued furiously over it. Takeo understood how he felt, and he ached for him and all the young men like him. They had been shunned and sent away, their rights as Americans had been denied them. But now their right to serve had been restored, and other than war work through the WRA, or renouncing their citizenship, there was no other way to leave the camps. This was a chance to prove themselves as Americans, to have their rights restored, to prove that they were loyal citizens, and Tak didn't want Ken to fail to do that. He
had
to sign the loyalty oath, not to would be a disaster.

“I don't even feel American anymore, Dad,” Ken said angrily. “I don't feel American. I don't feel Japanese. I don't feel anything,” he said unhappily, and his father didn't know what to say to him.

“You have no choice, son. I understand. I respect how you feel. But I am telling you to sign the loyalty oath. If you don't, they're going to put you in prison, and cause you a great deal of trouble. Ken, you have to.” They battled about it for days, and finally, not wanting to cause trouble for them, Ken signed, but many of his friends didn't. They didn't because it was the only opportunity they had to object to what had happened to them, but it made them instantly suspect and many of them were considered dangerous. Many renounced their citizenship immediately, and chose to go to Japan as they had threatened to for months. And Ken had threatened too, but in the end, he couldn't do it.

Those who didn't sign were rounded up from the other camps as well, and the No-No Boys wound up in the segregation section at Tule Lake. It was, in fact, at that point being built into a separate camp, for people thought to be disloyal to the United States, and security was immediately increased to deal with the problem. Tak was deeply grateful that, in the end, Ken had agreed to sign the loyalty oath, even if it meant seeing him go off to war and risk his life for his country. At least his loyalty as an American would never be questioned.

Signing the loyalty oath took a great deal of pressure off all of them, and even Hiroko felt relieved when she went back to work at the infirmary during a fresh outbreak of influenza. For Hiroko, as a genuine alien, the loyalty oath had given her a real opportunity to pledge her loyalty to the United States, which was something she wanted, although of course in her case, question twenty-seven was of no importance, since she couldn't go into the army.