The Samurai's Lady (8 page)

“Did you see?”
“No. But others have suffered the same fate for other crimes.” Tears clouded her vision. Fujito took the cup from her hand and held her close. He realized she was as sensitive as he was; it somehow drew her even closer to him.
During the night, the fog rolled in, but as the sun came up appeared to thin a bit. Fujito told her they would carry on.
As they went, snow started to fall. Lightly at first, but getting thicker and thicker as the flakes were whipped up by a strong wind
The fog was so thick they could hardly see. In fact, they did not even realize they had reached the Asuza River.
The water had already frozen over in places; this combined with the swirling snow and fog gave the impression that the whole way ahead was solid snow. They were almost at the halfway point of the river. Fujito‟s dark kimono was getting increasingly difficult to see as Katharine followed in his steps. Suddenly she felt the snow give way underneath her feet and she was plunged into the frigid water.
Hearing her screams Fujito looked back but could see nothing in the blinding snow.
“Katsuko!” He called as he made his way carefully back to the bank they had just left. The wind stopped for a moment allowing him to hear her cries as she was swept away by the current.
“Katsuko!” He called again as he hurried down he bank to try and pull her out of the river. His heart beat rapidly against his chest, more in fear for her than the exertion of running. Where was she? Had she been dragged under? He prayed to God that he would find her alive.
Then he saw her. She was wedged between a log and a rock a few feet upstream; he surmised that she had grabbed the log to keep from going under. He called her name again but there was no response. Her body remained still.
When he reached her, he found the log bobbing next to her. He removed his pack and jacket and then pushed the log out of the way with his foot. Holding onto the rock, he stepped into the river.
He could never have said afterward exactly how he had pulled her from the water, all he knew was she was safely on the bank.
He felt for a pulse; found it, just barely. Her breathing was almost undetectable. She needed warmth. He pulled off her wet clothing and covered her with one of her quilted kimono and then his jacket.
He had to leave her to set up camp, but stayed within sight so that he could keep an eye on her. He worked as quickly as he could and when she was stable moved her tothe futon he‟d laid out. He built a fire and sat to watch her. While he watched he took a box from his pack and pulled out two scrolls: the Gospels and Psalms. He read the passages of the healing ministry of Jesus, then quoted, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”
His voice came from far away, barely penetrating the fog that held her prisoner. But she recognized he familiar words.
It was getting dark; he lit the oil lamp and placed it near her head so he could see her face. He retrieved the rocks he‟d heated in the fire and placed them in the thinnest kimono. Then he set them against the pulse points: her neck, her heart, under her arms and near the groin. Then he covered her with a futon and sat down to wait, and pray.
“Dear Katsuko.” He whispered, his voice almost breaking with the weight of emotion. “Don‟t leave me. Not before I‟ve had a chance to say I love you.” Bowing his head, he prayed. “Dear Lord God, thank you for giving me Katsuko, Katharine, if only for this short time. She has gladdened my heart and lightened my steps.
I cannot promise you anything that will cause you to work in my favor and restore her to me. But if it is your will, please bring her back to me so that I may tell her I love her. For it is only by Your grace that, I can petition you this way, through Your dear Son, in whose name I bring my prayer to You. Amen.”
What? Had she heard right? He loved her? Was he praying, to the God of the Universe? Was he Christian, then? Her colddulled brain wouldn‟t focus; it couldn‟t reach through the dense fog that seemed to hold her captive. Yet, there seemed to be warmth, too, far away but coming closer. Then she slept. Through the mist, she heard him praying again. Then he spoke to her. “Don‟t leave me, Katharine. I love you. Please,
koibito
, come back to me. I want to tell you how much I love you.” She could hear the tears in his voice. Suddenly she wanted to come back. She had to tell him not to love her; she would not be in Japan much longer and she couldn‟t let him waste his life on her. Did she lovehim? She wouldn‟t even consider the possibility; it would confuse everything. Then why did his mere approach send her senses reeling?
She pushed the voice aside with great effort and willed herself to consciousness. Fujito felt her pulse again. He was relieved to find it stronger. Her breathing was stronger too. He could see her chest rising and falling in consistent, even rhythm. Sighing with relief he went to fetch more stones that had been heating in the fire. He replaced the ones that had cooled and lit another lamp. In the dim light, he wrote a poem.
“Omi no mi yunani…
He slept, but not deeply. Thoughts of the past, brought back by the poem he‟d written intruded into the blackness.
The day they‟d skipped stones on the lake; the time she‟d amazed him by curing Michiko; and Hataro. The day they delivered Sumiko‟s baby, the times she‟d cried on hisshoulder. The way she‟d clung to him, the night on the bay when he had kissed her.
He woke with a start, some unknown imagining pulling him from sleep. Looking toward the place where she lay he satisfied himself that she was still alive. He went over to her and felt for warmth; he sighed. She was out of danger; now she just needed to rest naturally.
He prepared some soup; she would need something later. After eating a small portion himself, he went outside. The sun was just peeking over the horizon. It was almost noon when he heard her stir. Leaving his brush and paper, he went to kneel beside her futon.
“Hello.” He smiled.
“Konnichi wa.” She mumbled.
“Let me get you a drink.” He stood to his feet and went to the canteen he‟d filed that morning from the river. The chill had been taken off and it was now drinkable. He supported her neck with one arm and held the glass to her lips with the other. “Slowly,
koibito
, slowly.” He smiled.
She drank all she wanted then leaned back again.
“Isamu?”
“Yes?”
“Where did you lean that Psalm?”
He knew the one she meant. “One of the men in Hirado taught it to me.” He kissed her temple and thanked God he‟d given him the chance to do it again and for the warmth, he felt there. He looked into her eyes and saw the unasked question. “Yes, I am a Christian.” He confirmed. He got up, walked to his pack, and pulled out the scroll. As he unrolled it, she could see it contained neat lines of Japanese script.
“If I didn‟t know you I would say that was a recipe for miso.”
Isamu laughed as he thought he never would again. “Oh, my
koibito
.” I love you.” He whispered against her cheek.
The Samurai‟s Lady

Chapter Eight
“Isamu, I—
He touched her lips with his index finger. “Shh. You don‟t have to say anything now.” He whispered. “I won‟t take advantage of your weakened condition.” He smiled.
For the next few days, Fujito insisted that Katharine recuperate from her near drowning. Five days after the accident, he decided they must move on. She helped him pack up and clear the area of their presence, although he would not let her do anything heavy. Mindful of the way she might be feeling he told her they would not cross the river where he had originally planned. He had selected a point further
along.
“All right.” He told her. “When we step into the water take both my hands and turn so that your side is facing the river. Then I‟ll take a step and you follow me.” She nodded assent
When they reached the area, she was glad to find the river narrower and less rapid. Suddenly she froze. “Isamu, I can‟t.”
“Yes you can. I‟m right here.” He stepped into the water. “See, it‟s not too deep, and slower than it was a few days ago. I promise I won‟t let you go,
koibito
.” She trusted the softness in his eyes. Gingerly she allowed him to help her into the river. She gasped as memories of the previous try flooded her brain. “It‟s all right.” He whispered taking her other hand. “See, you can even see the bottom.” Looking down she saw he was right.
They turned sideways and Fujito took the first step toward the opposite bank. She hesitated. “Come on,
koibito
.” He whispered into the windless calm. “You can do it. Forme, all right?” He smiled.
Looking into his eyes and grasping his hands tight, she made the step. “Good girl.” He smiled.
With the favorable conditions, it took only a short time to reach the far bank. When they stepped onto dry land, he held her tight in his arms.
“You did it, Katsuko Chan.” He whispered near her temple. “I‟m so proud of you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
It was not far from there to the bridge further upstream and from there the final three hours to Kamikochi.
The place was actually a small collection of farmhouses and an inn, which was technically another farmer‟s residence; but he allowed people to stay there on the way to where they were going.
Before actually entering he village Fujito put on his samurai jacket. “It will give me more authority here.” He smiled tying his swords around his waist.If they think I‟m just a sensei I will not earn their loyalty as strongly as a samurai.”
He kissed her cheek. “But I‟m still Isamu to you.” He smiled again. His samurai status did indeed make access to the village easier. But they each had the feeling the farmer and his young wife thought him a ronin.
“Too bad you‟re not a farmer, Samurai. I could use your help.” He said amiably. The man smiled a toothy grin. “I‟ve been in pain with my shoulder these last few months,
and the roof needs rethatching.”
“I‟m not above hard work.” Fujito smiled. “Perhaps you could show me? And I can give something for your shoulder. How did you hurt it?”
“Heckling.” He told him.
Fujito knew how hard the work could be. Rice needed to be pulled between wooden sticks attached to a block to separate it.
The farmer showed them to their rooms and then Fujito examined the man‟s shoulder. When he returned to the rooms, he unpacked the ingredients for pills to ease the
pain and for a soothing salve.
When he returned once more, he noticed Katharine studying him.
“What?” He asked.
“Oh nothing.” She smiled. “I just wondered what you‟d look like up on the roof.” She couldn‟t hold back a giggle.
“Oh what a lady I have.” He joined in the joke, smiling. “She doesn‟t trust my cooking; she doesn‟t trust me to fix a roof.”
“But I trust you in the important things.” She said softly.
He knew what she meant, and it warmed his heart.
“Come on, we‟ll go for a walk.” He lifted her to her feet. She almost lost her balance. “I see you haven‟t quite mastered that.” He smiled.
“The rest of my appearance might look Japanese, Fujito-Sama. But my knees are still British.”
He laughed. Sliding the door open, he let her go ahead of him.
The farm huts were huddled against the mountains whose lower slopes were covered with snow sprinkled pine trees.
Katharine cast her eyes upward and stared at the craggy peaks of the nearest mountains. She shivered.
“Are you cold?” Fujito asked, concerned.
“No.” She smiled up at him. “I just realized how close I came to dying up there. If it hadn‟t been for you—”
“Shhh, don‟t think about it.” He did not want to think of how close he came to losing her. “Just think about how you‟re here with me.” He held his cheek to hers, his warm breath sending her senses reeling.
She turned her face toward him and his mouth found hers. His lips, warm and moist slid over hers as his hand on her back pressed her closer. She relaxed in his arms and slid one arm around his neck.
He released her slowly, reluctantly. “Aishiteru. I love you.” He whispered against her temple.

The next morning the farmer took him up on the roof to examine the thatch. They would be gone all morning.
Around noon, the farmer‟s wife came with some lunch: miso soup, fish and pickles for them to share.
“Arigato o gozaimasu.” Katharine bowed.
“Do itashimashite.” The other woman answered. She divided the food between them. “What is your name?” She asked.
“Katsuko.”
“My name is Midori.” The farmer‟s wife said.
“Dozo yoroshuku. Pleased to meet you.”
“I wonder how Kenji and—”
“Isamu.” Katharine supplied.
“I wonder how they are doing?”
“I don‟t know.” Katharine smiled popping a piece of salted fish into her mouth. “But I half expect someone to come and tell us he‟s got his head stuck through the roof.”
The two women laughed together.
“He is not an experienced roofer? Oh, of course, he‟s samurai, but a very remarkable one. A samurai who doesn‟t mind hard work is a rarity.” “Isamu is very different.”
“I think he loves you very much.” She said shyly.
“I know.” Katharine returned the shy smile.
“And do you love him?”
“I can‟t—”
“Of course you can‟t. It is impossible to grow to love someone overnight. Kenji and I were married three years before I could say I love him.” She looked down at her flatstomach and a blush slowly colored her cheeks. “Now we are expecting our first baby.”
“Oh that‟s wonderful!” Katharine exclaimed. “When?”
“Seven months, I think.”
Katharinehad meant to say she couldn‟t love him because she couldn‟t stay with him;
but the wrong conclusion to which Midori had jumped had saved a lot of explanation.
The men came home at mid afternoon.
“I see you didn‟t get your head stuck in the roof.” Katharine observed, brushing a stray piece of straw from his coat.
“She sounds disappointed.” Isamu said to the others with a smile as he accepted a cup of tea from Katharine.
“Did Midori make you feel at home?” Kenji asked her
“Yes, she did.”
“I think Katsuko and I will become good friends.” Midori smiled.
That night Fujito wrote to his sister.
“She‟ll need to know that we will be here for a few months.” He told Katharine with a smile.
“Be sure to give her my best.” She told him.
“I will.” He assured her with a smile.
“When will you post it?”
“There‟s a station between the second and third bridges.” He answered. I‟ll take it in the morning. I shouldn‟t think there‟ll be many more days left before it closes for thewinter.”
Just after noon, he set off, this time in the dark kimono of the doctor. They had come the opposite way into town so had missed the post station. But anyone there would be on the lookout for a samurai and a lady.
He held Katharine close and touched his lips to her temple. “I shouldn‟t be long.” He told her.
“All right.”
While he was gone, she did some straightening up, putting the futons back in the cupboard.
The day dragged without him, although Midori‟s presence seemed to ease the loneliness somewhat. Katharine estimated he should be back within six hours. She just had to keep busy until the evening meal.
The pale gray clouds began to darken around mid-afternoon.
“Storm‟s coming.” Kenji said coming inside. He took off his straw hat and smoothed his windswept hair. “It‟s a good thing we got the roof fixed. Where is he?” He smiled at Katharine, meaning Isamu.
“He went to post a letter to his sister.”
“I hope he can out run this storm. It might be the one that closes the roads.” He said to his wife. “Otherwise he‟ll be stuck with no way to get back.” They were in the tiny kitchen, but Katharine overheard. He turned to her.
“Don‟t worry, Katsuko. He‟s probably on his way home by now.” He smiled reassuringly.
But the evening meal was over and he still hadn‟t returned. Snow was falling softly from a windless sky; it was beginning to get dark. While Kenji and Midori were busy in other parts of the house, Katharine panicked and ran out to look for him. She had forgotten to check the amount of oil in the lamp she took from the table.
She had not gone one mile when the wind came up and the snow started to swirl in spirals around her. The lamplight was so weak she could barely see and she tried to shield it from the wind to keep it from going out.
“Isamu!” She called as she trudged deeper and deeper into the drifting snow. It was a bare quarter hour when Fujito arrived back at the farmhouse. “It‟s getting bad out there.” He told them. “The road out is closed.” “Did you get your letter off?”
“Just barely.” He smiled. “But she probably won‟t get it for months if the roads are as bad everywhere. Where‟s Katsuko?”
They had been dreading the question.
“She went out to look for you.” Midori said quietly.
“When?”
“About a half hour ago.” Kenji said.
Fujito said nothing more but headed toward his room.
“Where are you going?” Kenji asked, following him.
“I‟m going to look for her.” He took off his wet jacket, quilted trousers, and changed into dry ones.
“You‟re a fool!” Kenji called after him.
“I have to go.” He called over his shoulder. “I love her.” Fujito smiled, but there was a look of hard determination in his eyes.
Midori and her husband exchanged knowing looks.
“Here.” Kenji handed him a lamp with a fresh wick and full of oil. “The gods go with you.”
“Thanks.”
All Fujito needed was the help of one God. And he prayed to Him in his spirit even as he yelled Katharine‟s name at the top of his lungs, to try to be heard over the now howling wind.
Following her footprints was almost impossible. Snow had all but covered them over, the new snow looking pale gray in the lamplight.
Then out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something, a flicker, like a flame of a lamp just winking out. But when he turned the sky was dark and no outline dented the snow.
Then he thought he saw something move against a nearby pine tree. Running as best he could in the mounding snow, he reached the tree. Kneeling on one knee he made a well in the snow beside him and set the lamp down. Pawing at the snow, he saw her. She had leaned against the tree to rest and had slid down in the snow.
He felt her hands and face. They were not too cold; she was only sleeping. He shook her with as much force as he could without startling her. He wondered how long
she‟d been there.
“Katsuko, wake up.” He called.
She roused herself from a deepening sleep and her eyes fluttered open. “Where am I?”
“It doesn‟t matter,
koibito
. You‟re safe now.”
“Isamu?” She hadn‟t recognized his voice.
“Come on, sweetheart. We have to get you back home.” He pulled her to her feet, which were unsteady. She almost fell, but he caught her with a firm hand around her
waist and lifted her into his arms.
Luckily she hadn‟t gotten too far and it was not long before he could see the farmhouse. Kenji was watching for him and slid open the door.
“Is she alive?” He asked as he brought her inside.
“Yes.” Isamu smiled. “Midori, would you boil the kettle for some tea, please?” “Of course.”
While he waited he removed her wet clothing and covered her with the thickest quilt in the cupboard. He relaxed only when he heard her shiver.
“Good girl.” He smiled. “Your starting to warm up.”
“Says you.” She shivered. He laughed a sound that warmed her more than the quilt or the tea Midori brought to them.
“Thank you.” Fujito said as she set the tray beside him. Taking one of the cups, he put it into her hands. Picking up the second, he took a sip. “
Koibito
, you‟ve got to promise me something.” He smiled.
“What?”
“That you‟ll stay in this room the rest of the winter. That‟s the second time you‟ve almost caused my heart to stop in as many days. Whatever made you go out like that?”
“Sorry.” She took another sip. “I panicked. I don‟t really know why.” He took her cup and set it back on the tray. Then he enfolded her in his arms. “Go to sleep now,
koibito
. I‟m here and you‟re safe.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She settled her head on his shoulder and was asleep almost before she closed her eyes.
When she woke the next morning her throat was raw and her head throbbed. Fujito noticed it right away, even though she had tried to hide it from him. “I think you‟re getting a cold.” He told her with a smile. “Maybe you should go back to bed?”
“Not yet. I don‟t feel all that bad.”
“All right.” In his smile, she could tell he knew she didn‟t mean it.
Fujito was right. By afternoon, her eyes were watering and her throat was so sore she could hardly talk. She didn‟t mind in the least when he helped her back to her room and settled her under the covers. He brought her some tea, and after she‟d finished sang the lullaby that she knew now she would never forget. When she woke again, it was to eat a little soup.
“I wrote you a poem.” He smiled. He took a piece of rice paper from the tray and read, “Like tiny golden birds, the ginko leaves scatter. From the tree on the hill in thesunset glow.”
“That‟s lovely.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Do itashimashite.” He smiled. “Now go back to sleep.”
The following day she felt better. Fujito spent the afternoon reading to her then she took a nap before the evening meal.
Over the next few days she improved steadily and by the end of a week had fully recovered.
“It was all due to the sensei‟s ministrations.” She smiled at him.
“Maybe now you‟ll think twice before you go dashing out into the snow.” He said lightly, grinning.
“Doubtful. I‟m stubborn, remember?”
“Never forgotten.” He said softly, kissing the tip of her nose.
Except for visits to he other farmers in the village there was nothing much to do. Snow covered the landscape as far as the eye could see, with only glimpses of the green
tops of the pine trees to relieve the monotonous white.
During the long days Fujito taught her how to play Go-Bang, the Japanese form of the Chinese Mahjong, and was not surprised when she beat him three out of four times in a row.
“She sings, too. And plays the koto.” Fujito said proudly to the couple who had very quickly become their friends. Many evenings were thus spent in singing and playing instruments.
One day Kenji came to them with the news that he had found them a house of their own.
“It isn‟t that we don‟t want you here any more.” He explained. “But we have seen you together and thought you might like quarters of your own. The house will otherwise remain empty. Please, it is our gift to you.”
Before they retired for the night, Fujito would read to her or they would take turns reciting poetry. Then she would fall asleep in his arms.
One morning Fujito woke early and went to the kitchen to make tea; then he went to the place where they stored their things. He pulled out a prettily wrapped package and set it on the tray beside her cup.
Kneeling beside her futon he bent over and kissed her cheek. “Ohaiyo o gozaimasu.” He whispered.
She could hear the smile in his voice and rolled over. “Good morning.” She smiled then stretched.
Fujito reached for the package on the tray. “Omeidato.”
“Now there‟s a new word.”
“Merry Christmas.” He whispered kissing her cheek.
“Christmas?” She‟d completely forgotten. “Oh I—
“Forgot?” He smiled. “I fear you‟ve been among us too long. Go on, open it.” She untied the ribbon and unfolded the triangles revealing a sheet of rice paper. Turning it over she saw a picture of herself in a bright kimono sitting on a mosscoveredstone next to the lake in Fujito‟s garden at Kagoshima.
“Did you draw this?” She asked surprised.
“Aha.” He smiled. His eyes were full of love. He gently took the picture and its wrapping from her and laid them on the floor then he enfolded her in his arms and kissed her. It was many moments before he remembered the tea.
They were just finishing breakfast when they heard a knock at the door. “Forgive me for bothering you, sensei. But I‟m worried about the baby.” “Come on inside.” Fujito took her arm and helped her over the door ledge. “Why are you worried? Has something happened?”
“No. That‟s just the problem” She explained. “If I was in pain or something I would understand. But I‟m just feeling this sense of foreboding. I can‟t put a finger onit.”
He smiled understandingly. Motioning for her to sit he knelt on the opposite side of the table. Something in his spirit told him she would be open to hearing the Gospel so he told her of the birth of the baby in Bethlehem, whose birth they were celebrating that day. In the telling she saw how Mary, the mother would have been afraid too. Especially since the baby was to be God.
“But how could God be man as well?” She asked her eyes full of awe mixed with excitement.
“No one can put it into words.” Fujito smiled. “We just have to believe it is so.” “But then what about the Buddha? Is it not wrong to go against his teachings?” “Buddha taught a way of life, Midori. In fact, if you look at the Scripture in light of them, you‟ll see that they are very similar to what Jesus taught. But there is one difference. Jesus is still alive. Buddha died many centuries ago. Christ died, suffered forus on a cross so that we could live eternally with him.” “But should we not all suffer, to attain a better life next time?”
“We will suffer. Jesus said that in the world we will have persecution, but we will not be subject to God‟s wrath if we have accepted him as our savior.” “No man can do that for another.”
“That‟s right. But God as Man could and did.”
While he‟d been talking, Katharine had gone to fetch the scrolls from the bedroom.
“Thank you.” He smiled up at her. Finding the spot he pointed out to Midori, “See, it says that while we wee still sinners Christ died for us.” He found another passage. “And here, For God so loved the world that he gave his only son so that thosewho believe in him should not perish, but have eternal life.”
“What is a sinner?”
Fujito patiently explained how God had created the world and how man had lost his special place in it. Then he said something that struck at her heart. “You see, Midori, all the religions man could devise like Buddhism is an attempt to reach God. Christianity is God reaching down to meet man.”
“May I read your scrolls? I want to learn more.”
“Of course.” He replaced them in the case and handed them to her.
“Thank you.”
“Any time you have any questions we‟re here.” He assured her. He opened the door for her.
Katharine sat motionless where she was, overwhelmed by his gentle way of explaining the Truth, as she had never heard it before. She realized that she had never actually been a Christian in the way he‟d described it to Midori. She had gone to Mass and followed the tenets of the Church and had even given indulgences, although she had never really believed they would work. But she obviously did not know Jesus as he did.