The Sound of Life and Everything (8 page)

11

We picked up the Japanese man back on the first
floor. Thankfully, someone had managed to find him a pair of pants and a clean shirt. I could have handled riding home next to a Japanese man or a man in his pajamas, but certainly not both.

I stared at the man, and he stared back at me. He smelled like Dr. Franks's sickly sweet cologne, but it didn't seem fair to hold that against him. Maybe it wasn't his cologne but the building itself.

I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “You're comin' with us.”

The Japanese man blinked.

“Do you understand?” I motioned back and forth between us. “We're breakin' you out!”

“You're wasting your breath, foolish girl,” Dr. Franks said, sniffing. “He doesn't speak English.”

“Neither do Uncle George's sheep,” I said, “but I still talk to them.”

Dr. Franks's lip curled, but instead of answering, he stalked away.

I waited until he disappeared, then asked the Japanese man, “Are you ready?”

The man bowed. “Are-ee-got-toe.”

I decided that meant yes.

• • •

Mama took the long way home, winding aimlessly past orange groves before merging onto Highway 1. The beach looked especially inviting after our long day at the lab, but Mama said we couldn't stop, since Daddy was going to have enough questions as it was.

Daddy was a Northerner, with a family tree that stretched all the way back to Plymouth Rock, so he hadn't had a problem when the Dodgers hired Jackie Robinson or when Mr. Dent married his Hawaiian bride. But then, Jackie Robinson and Mrs. Dent had never tried to sink our navy, then invited themselves to our house.

“What's this?” Daddy asked as soon as we walked through the door.

“He's not a what, Daddy, he's a who.”

“His name is Takuma,” Mama said as she tugged off her hat.

“Takuma?” Daddy asked, spitting that word out of his mouth like a hunk of rotten meat.

Mama sighed. “It's complicated.”

Daddy looked back and forth between us, then raked a hand through his dark hair. “Ella Mae, your mother and I need to have a little chat.”

This was code for
Me and Mama are about to have a fight, so if you don't want to get your eyebrows singed, you'd better scuttle off.

“Come on,” I told the man. “I'll show you around.”

Daddy's glower made it clear that he didn't approve, but what else were we supposed to do, hide in the bomb shelter out back? I led the man into the kitchen (since the first thing every guest should know was where Mama hid the snickerdoodles), but when I realized that I could hear what Mama and Daddy were saying, I just stood there listening.

“Where in heaven's name did you find a Jap?” he asked.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Well, then, would I believe why you chose to bring him
here
?”

“He needed a place to stay,” she said. “If you'd only seen where he was livin' . . .”

“It's one thing to be charitable, but it's another to be mad. What are we supposed to
do
with him?”

“I don't know,” she admitted.

I backed away from the archway. I'd never heard Mama sound so unsure before. What if we'd made the wrong choice? It was too late to take it back.

“Come on,” I mumbled tiredly. The snickerdoodles would have to wait. I didn't want to hear what Mama and Daddy were saying anymore.

I led the man upstairs, since it seemed like the safest place. The old stairs creaked beneath my feet but not beneath the man's. His shoes must have been quieter.

At the top of the stairs, I reached for the door to Daniel's room, then dropped my hand at the last second. It seemed wrong to barge in unannounced. But then, Daniel hadn't minded when he was alive, so maybe he wouldn't mind now. I drew a bracing breath, then slowly turned the knob.

A rush of stale air greeted us, though it wasn't as stale as it might have been. Mama aired the room out every Monday while she vacuumed and dusted, though it was more of a habit than a necessity. Mama said the dead made fewer messes than the living.

I'd always believed that. Now I wasn't so sure.

“My brother's room,” I said as I waved the man inside.

His eyes widened to the size of chocolate coins as he stepped across the threshold.

I tried to see what he was seeing, and it wasn't hard. The furniture was nothing special, but the sketches were overwhelming. They covered every surface, including the walls, the desk, the dresser. Mama had framed them over time, so the room looked more like an art gallery than a place to sleep.

Daniel left for basic training a month before my fifth birthday, so I'd gotten to know him through his drawings. My favorite was the beachscape on the wall between our rooms. One day, I'd come downstairs to find him packing his knapsack. I'd asked where he was going, and when he said the beach, I'd begged to go along. We'd spent the afternoon building sand igloos—they were more interesting than castles—and playing hide-and-seek in the forest of logs under the pier. And drawing, of course. The tiny figure in the distance, the one with her arms spread out to the sky, was a four-year-old me.

“Daniel liked to draw,” I said in case it wasn't obvious. “Folks around here said he was gonna be the next Norman Rockwell, but Daniel said he wasn't gonna be the next anyone. He was gonna be his own artist, and besides, Norman Rockwell was a painter.”

The man spotted the beachscape and studied it intently.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

The man tilted his head as if deep in thought, then, finally, nodded.

“I like it, too,” I said, smiling.

He smiled in return. It was probably instinctive, but I wanted to believe that he'd crawled inside my head and relived that day on the beach, that I'd shared a piece of Daniel with someone who hadn't known him before.

“I don't think we've been introduced,” I said as I stuck out my hand. “My name is Ella Mae.”

Instead of shaking it, he stared.

“You shake it,” I explained, grabbing his right hand with my left and sticking it in mine.

The man didn't shake back.

“Never mind,” I said as I let go of his hand and touched my chest instead. “My name is Ella Mae.”

The man didn't react.

“Ella Mae,” I said, pointing at myself. Then I pointed at him. “Takuma.”

Something flashed in his dark eyes. It was a start, at least.

I touched his chest. “Takuma.” Then I touched mine. “Ella Mae.”

“Takuma,” he finally said, pointing at himself. Then he pointed at me. “Ella Mae.”

I grinned. “Sounds like you've got it.”

Mama came upstairs after she and Daddy finished fighting and informed us that Takuma would spend the night in Daniel's room. We didn't have another bed, and making a grown man sleep on the floor was plum foolish (in her opinion). Also, the only floor was in the study, and Daddy didn't want Takuma messing up his things.

We went to bed early, but I couldn't fall asleep. For the first time in a long time, a real, live human being was in the room across the wall, and if I closed my eyes and let my memory go fuzzy, I could almost pretend that it was Daniel.

12

It felt like I'd just closed my eyes when Mama
started clanking pots and pans bright and early the next morning. I jolted awake—she was fond of rousing me with cookware—but she was nowhere to be seen. I stuffed my head under my pillow and tried to fall asleep, but pillows weren't impervious to the smell of sizzling bacon. I stumbled down to breakfast without bothering to change.

“Why are you still wearin' your pajamas?” Mama asked. “You're gonna make us late for Sunday school!”

“I don't think I can go,” I said, yawning enormously.

“You can yawn until the cows come home, but you're not skippin' church. You think Jesus took a Sunday off after fastin' forty days and nights?”

“I know it might surprise you, but I'm not as virtuous as Jesus.”

“Which means you need to go to Sunday school even more than He did.”

Daddy tromped into the kitchen. “Who's not going to Sunday school?” he asked as he finished knotting his tie.

“No one,” Mama said, pointing her spatula at me. “Ella Mae's goin' to church whether she wants to or not.”

“But I'm exhausted,” I replied, plopping my chin into my hands.

Daddy nudged me with his elbow. “Had a wild night, did you?”

“Actually,” I said, “I just couldn't fall asleep. It was weird to think that someone else was actually sleeping in the room right next to mine.”

He didn't have a chance to answer before Takuma crept into the kitchen. His shirt from yesterday was rumpled, but he had comb tracks in his hair. Had he remembered how to do that, or had one of the assistants taught him?

Daddy unknotted his tie. “On second thought,” he said as he retreated to the stairs, “I don't think this tie matches my suit.”

“But your bacon!” I called after him. “It's gonna taste like rubber!”

“Quiet, sweetness,” Mama said. “You need to let him go.”

I wasn't so sure. Matching ties were one thing, but rubbery bacon was another.

Mama tipped her head toward Daddy's chair. “Have a seat, Takuma.”

He hesitated for a moment, then, cautiously, sat down.

Mama dished him up a plate. “Here,” she said, holding it out to him. “The best bacon and eggs you'll ever eat.”

Takuma took it gingerly and set it on the table, but then he just sat there staring. The eggs had already stopped steaming, and the bacon probably wasn't far behind.

“Didn't those cockamamie scientists teach you anything?” I asked as I reached across the table, seized a strip of bacon, and shoved it in his mouth.

Mama slapped my hand away. “Thank you for that demonstration, but he can manage on his own.”

As if to prove her point, he retrieved the strip of bacon and took a dainty bite. I was watching it roll down his throat when Daddy reappeared. Takuma jumped out of his seat, but it was already too late.

Red-hot anger crawled up Daddy's neck, threatening to choke him, but he managed not to lose control. “What will he want next, the shirt right off my back?”

“Well, not that shirt,” Mama said. “It has a grease stain on the collar. But it would be nice if he could borrow something from your closet.”

Daddy's face flushed scarlet, but Mama pretended not to notice. Takuma sank back against the fridge and kept his eyes on the linoleum. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, but Daddy loomed between us, his eyes glowing like live coals.

Mama checked her Kit-Cat clock. The shifting eyes and ticktock tail had always struck me as funny, but for some reason, they seemed more sinister that morning. “Oh, I lost track of the time!” She snapped me with her apron. “Go and get dressed, Ella Mae.”

“But I've only had one piece of bacon!”

“Not my fault,” she said as she hurried toward the stairs. “Jed, we're gonna need that shirt!”

Daddy brought his fist down on the counter. “
No.
”

At least that got her attention. “Why not?” Mama asked.

“Because he's a Jap, for heaven's sake! You can't just stick him in a suit and pretend that he belongs!”

I grimaced for Takuma, who was now hunched over on the floor, hands wrapped around his knees to keep himself from tipping over. A shudder rippled through his shoulders every time he drew a breath, and I wished that I were brave enough to wrap my arms around his back.

I cleared my throat. “He could stay here.” It wasn't a hug, but it was something.

“No, he couldn't,” Daddy said. “I refuse to leave my home in the hands of an enemy.”

“He's not an enemy,” I said. “He can't even stand up straight.”

Daddy's eyes narrowed. “It's probably an act.”

“Then it's not a very good one.”

Daddy frowned.

“If he can't stay here by himself, then I'll stay with him,” I went on, trying to look suitably upset. “It'll be a shame to miss the lesson, but that's a price I'm willing to pay.”

“You think I'd trust him with my daughter any more than I'd trust him with my home?” Daddy folded his arms across his chest. “If anyone stays, it will be me.”

“Fat chance,” Mama replied. “The last thing I want to do is bail you out of jail.”

“We could all stay home,” I said.

Mama dismissed this just as quickly. “Reverend Simms will wonder where we are.”

“But we can't make him go,” I peeped. “I mean, just look at him.”

Mama looked at him, then sighed. “I guess you have a point.” She chucked her apron on the counter. “But I expect these dishes to be done by the time that I get back!”

Mama grabbed her hat, then slammed the door shut on her heels. The spice rack didn't stop rattling until the Studebaker roared to life.

“I'll be in my study,” Daddy said. “Holler if you need me.”

“But what about the dishes?” I replied.

Daddy smiled fiercely. “I'm sure our
guest
won't mind earning his keep.”

He retreated to his study before I had a chance to argue, but that was just as well. I'd never seen Daddy tell another man to do the dishes.

I waited until Daddy disappeared, then tiptoed toward Takuma. “It's all right,” I said, imitating Gracie's soothing voice.

He looked up at me and blinked, so the imitation must have worked.

I held out my hand. “I promise I'm not gonna hurt you.”

Gingerly, Takuma took it. I expected him to use it to haul himself back up, but he just shook it, let it go, and stood up on his own.

I motioned toward the sink. “Have you ever done the dishes?”

He just stood there blinking.

“It figures,” I grumbled as I drained the sink, then refilled it with hot water and another squirt of dish soap. Auntie Mildred would have praised me for being so sanitary, but I just didn't want to plunge my hands into scuzzy, lukewarm water.

I pointed at the table. “You think you can grab those plates?”

He must have understood the pointing. While I dug the rubber gloves out of the wash bin, he arranged the plates into a tower, breakfast dishes on the bottom, cups and silverware on top.

“You're pretty good at that,” I said. “Were you a juggler in a circus?”

Instead of answering, he shrugged.

“Dr. Franks says you don't talk because you don't understand English, but I think you don't talk because he's a—”

“Me-zoo,” he interrupted.

I blinked, then shook my head. “No, I was gonna say that I think Dr. Franks's a—”

“Me-zoo!”

I didn't have a chance to figure out what “me-zoo” meant before something sloshed against my wrists. I turned back toward the sink just as a sheet of sudsy water suddenly spilled over the edge, completely soaking my pajamas. The shock knocked me off balance, but Takuma grabbed my wrist to keep me from falling down. He hit the faucet with his free hand, and as we surveyed the damage, I finally figured out what he'd been trying to tell me: “me-zoo” had to mean water.

I met Takuma's eyes, which were as wide as dinner plates. Unfortunately, Daddy picked that moment to reappear in the archway.

“What's this?” he demanded.

Takuma dropped my hand.

Daddy clenched his teeth. “Did he hurt you, Ella Mae?”

“Of course not,” I replied as I wrung out my sleeve. “Matter of fact, I think he saved me.”

Daddy's gaze followed the drops that were raining from my sleeve, then darted back up to the sink. He might have missed the puddle, but it would have been hard to miss the suds.

“Clean this up,” he said. “Ella Mae, go and get dressed.”

“But I was the one who spilled—”

“I said, go and get dressed.” His voice was flat and hard. “I think we've borne enough of your impertinence for now.”

I opened my mouth to answer, then snapped it shut again. Daddy could only take so much impertinence (or so he'd told me before), and from the way his jaw was working, I could tell he was about to flip his lid. After sneaking one last peek at Takuma, I headed toward the stairs.

“Towels are in the cupboard,” Daddy said to no one in particular. He must have been talking to Takuma, but he refused to look at him. “I expect this kitchen to be as dry as the Mojave when I come back.”

Takuma nodded stiffly. Daddy's instructions must have sounded like gibberish to his ears, but he didn't make excuses, just swept the dishrag off the counter and got down on his hands and knees. Water soaked into his pants, but he didn't seem to notice. Unfortunately, his pants were making more progress than the dishrag.

Daddy must have thought so, too, because he shouted, “In the cupboard!” When Takuma just kept mopping, he raked a hand through his dark hair. “Of all the Japs in all the towns in all the world, we get stuck with the idiot.”

“He's not an idiot!” I said.

“I guess we'll see about that.”

I caught a whiff of licorice as Daddy swept out of the kitchen, but instead of making me feel better, the familiar smell made me feel worse. If he hadn't smelled like licorice, I could have convinced myself it wasn't Daddy. But it
was
Daddy, and I knew him almost as well as I knew myself. If I tried to stay and help, he'd only make Takuma's life harder.

But there was one thing I could do. When I passed the cupboard with the towels, I flicked it open with my toe. And when Daddy came back later, the kitchen was as dry as the Mojave.