“When are you going to tell Yoshitsune?” my father asked at the end.
“I thought I’d wait until I had the written documents,” I said. “Then, Yoshitsune will have as much of the story as exists and can draw his own conclusions. This afternoon I just hope the house visit will allow him a bit of closure.”
COURTNEY WAS FEEDING the fish in the koi pond when we pulled up in the minivan, a few minutes before the time Uncle Yosh had suggested. She cocked her head and looked me up and down.
“You look good for someone who’s been sick. It’s like your face is pinker, but it’s not sunburn.”
“Thank you, Courtney.” I wasn’t about to tell a teenage girl my personal recipe for glowing skin. I felt different inside, too, thanks to an extra two hours in bed with Michael.
“You want to try?” Courtney asked, handing my father the box of fish flakes.
He shook a few in the water, and we all laughed as the patterned orange and cream fish swarmed to him. It was fun to watch them, and sent me back to memories of similar ponds in Japan. I said to Courtney, ‘I can’t tell where the extension is that Braden’s digging.”
“That’s because it’s finished! Look over there-he did nothing but dig the last several days. Dig, and cry.”
“Oh, Courtney. He’s really worried about his future, isn’t he?”
“He doesn’t show it to people. But when he’s alone, I see it. He’s very scared.”
When Braden and Yoshitsune came outside, I left the fish and opened up the Odyssey, requesting that Braden sit next to me and read the map. I explained, ‘These maps are really complex, and I don’t want to strain the older gentlemen’s eyes.”
“I could do it, too!” Courtney piped up, from the very rear of the minivan, where she was sitting with Tom.
“I know that, Courtney. You may navigate for us on the way back.” Truth be told, I was going to use the handheld GPS once I arrived there, and mark the point as a way station. I would bring Michael back to see the place at sunset that evening, perhaps with a bottle of champagne.
“OK.” Braden shrugged, and took the first map I gave him. “So we go into Barbers Point, huh? That’s simple. The guard booths are always empty.”
Braden knew his way around Barbers Point better than Uncle Yoshitsune, because in his day it had been closed. Yosh told us, ‘Planes taking off there, day and night. Never know exactly what’s going on.”
“Who was Barber, some famous American Navy pilot?” I asked, looking around at the ink-black, burned fields.
“No, no,” Uncle Yosh said. “He was a very bad sailor.”
“Like a pirate?” Courtney asked.
“No. I mean he was an English captain who tried to land ashore in bad weather. Everyone on the ship told him, don’t even try, too dangerous, but he was in a hurry and wound up wrecking his ship here. Everybody died.”
As I was thinking, how could anyone know what the people aboard told the captain, if they’d all died?, Courtney asked, ‘Do you think we can find bones, Jii-chan?”
“No, Courtney. It was long-ago times, maybe 1600s. Bones all gone by now.”
Don’t let the house be gone, too, I thought. The picture that Edwin had taken to an appraiser had been about ten years old, and the place had been a wreck then. Winds could have finished it off.
“I don’t think we can go any farther,” Braden said, pointing to a Pierce Holdings sign about fifty feet ahead, with No Trespassing written underneath.
“Sure we can,” I said.
“The boy has a point. We could get in trouble.” Uncle Yoshitsune sounded regretful.
“Will you let me see the map?” I stopped the car and put it in park, so I could make myself comfortable while I looked. “Yes, just as I thought. We’re definitely on military land; Pierce Holdings’ sign is incorrect.”
“But that’s not what Pierce Holdings thinks,” Braden said. “Albert Rivera’s got video cameras everywhere, and field glasses.”
“If I’m prosecuted, I can win the case in court, based on these maps. Besides, I don’t think Josiah Pierce would do anything to us.”
“Turn left,” Braden interrupted as we came to a crossing of dirt roads.
I wasn’t sure about that, but I followed the directions and drove for a few minutes with blackened fields on either side, until I saw cars whizzing by on H-1.
“We’re supposed to be driving toward the water,” I said.
“Just following the map,” Braden said brightly. “You still want me to navigate, or what?”
“Whatever fool map you’re following is wrong,” Yoshitsune said. “I remember now, turn back and go the other way at the crossing.”
“We shouldn’t have come out here,” Braden mumbled. “I’m in enough trouble already; you want to pile on some more?”
“This is perfectly legal,” I said, and as we drove on, I was pleased to see the fields and trees appeared only singed, not burned to the ground. So the fire had petered out; this boded well for the house.
“I’m excited,” my father said, from the back seat with Courtney. “And look, Uncle Hiroshi’s camcorder is still in its case here, though I’m not sure I know how to use it.”
Courtney begged my father to let her use the camcorder, and soon she had her window down and was recording the sights with her own commentary on the side.
I glanced sideways at Braden, who was looking grimmer than I’d seen him since we’d left the police station. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want to come. It’s just that you must be with a family member at all times-”
“Yeah, yeah. OK, the map says a left at the fork in the road-‘
“No!” Uncle Yoshitsune called from the back. “I know this place. Stay straight.”
I followed Uncle Yoshitsune’s advice, driving slowly and taking in the surroundings. Clearly this area hadn’t been used to grow sugar, because the grasses were so long and there were many old trees, the scraggly wili-wili in addition to the usual kiawe, and flowers that looked native. A showering of passion fruit lay on the path before us, and I steered around it, planning to pick up the unexpected bounty on the way back.
“On the way back, let’s gather any good fruit that’s fallen. I’m sure the Navy won’t mind,” I said.
“If we get back,” Braden said ominously.
“There, there I see it! A small house,” my father cried, and everyone turned to look out the left windows where, in front of the brilliant Pacific, stood a weathered gray cottage listing slightly to one side.
“No, that can’t be it,” Braden said. “Keep on.”
“I’m not sure,” Yoshitsune’s voice was low. “My house, it was white, not gray like that.”
“Time takes its toll,” I said, slowing to a stop, to allow him a chance to look. After a few moments, he responded. “That’s the mango tree Kaa-chan planted. Hey, still bearing mangoes, after all these years.”
“Well, we’ve seen it, now let’s head back. There’s a TV show at three I want to catch,” Braden said.
I ignored Braden and proceeded the last few yards to the house, where I put the car in park and set the waypoint, before turning off the ignition. “Come on, everyone. Let’s get out and take a good look. Courtney, bring that camcorder, OK?”
I pressed the button to roll back the side doors, and my father and Uncle Yosh disembarked.
“Don’t step on the porch, it looks like you could fall straight through,” I warned.
“Yes, yes,” my father soothed. “Don’t worry so much, Rei-chan. Come out and see for yourself.”
“I’m not going,” Braden said, after I got out of my side and walked around the car to his.
“Fine. That’s your choice.” I gave him one last pitying look, then walked toward where my family had gathered on the straggly weeds outside the front of the house. “See, here are the flowers my mother planted,” Yoshitsune said, pointing to a twisted little hibiscus plant that had somehow survived. Hibiscus: a lovely imported but hardy flower, like Harue herself.