The Calligrapher's Daughter Part 14

I found this answer to be too glib and stole another glance at his expression. He seemed relaxed, and his eyes searched the far edge of the pond as if open to any answer the day might offer. I struggled a moment with the guard of proper behavior at my lips, but struck it down, weak as it was, and asked, "But why must the cost of grace be human suffering?"

I felt his appraising look and refused to accept the p.r.i.c.k of shame that needled as a result of my boldness.

He spoke somewhat perfunctorily about evil and not judging G.o.d, then his words trailed into contemplation. I was glad he grew quiet because this response, again, seemed too easy, like the obvious answer to a math problem. I wondered if pastors and their wives had these kinds of discussions, but couldn't go further with this thought that hinted being this future pastor's wife was a wish that lay like a fold in my desires, waiting to be exposed.

Whirring insects and the lissome willows swishing in the breeze calmed me, and as I waited for him to say more, I understood, as my mother had predicted, that it was his relaxed thoughtfulness that also gave me calm.

"Perhaps cost cost isn't the right word," said Mr. Cho, referring to my original question. "Human suffering can be endured by having grace. We are lifted from suffering by G.o.d's gift of grace. Among the Protestants there are different viewpoints about man's suffering and the existence of evil, and how we find redemption from it, or the degree to which we can overcome our flawed humanity." isn't the right word," said Mr. Cho, referring to my original question. "Human suffering can be endured by having grace. We are lifted from suffering by G.o.d's gift of grace. Among the Protestants there are different viewpoints about man's suffering and the existence of evil, and how we find redemption from it, or the degree to which we can overcome our flawed humanity."

I was impressed with his intellectualism and seriousness, but even more, I was amazed and pleased that he would engage me in this type of conversation. "Do you mean Original Sin?"

"Yes. My namesake, John Calvin, believed our flaws were predetermined, that we are miserable beings, doomed to suffering; that we are degradations of G.o.d's gift of life, and we should be overwhelmed with shame because of our basic human failure."

I couldn't help but react. "That's so hopeless!" and I wondered why he was named after this man.

He raised a finger. "Until we find salvation."

"Of course," I said, embarra.s.sed, sure that I'd exposed my ignorance and agnosticism.

"G.o.d gave us Christ as a human example of the divine, and intelligence to examine and accept our core of human failure, for only then can we understand that he was merciful to have let us continue to exist. In this way, we can truly appreciate G.o.d's gift of his son."

I remembered, as a child, that Mother had said the Chinese family who helped Father on March First were good Christians even if they were Buddhist. I thought of Teacher Yee, who I believed was in heaven despite the church's insistence that suicides were denied this glory. The question that had formed those many years ago still remained: was this church doctrine or true religion? Was it all just theory to be batted about in study and debate, like the cla.s.sics that had been interpreted and reinterpreted for centuries upon centuries, only to now have as much meaning as ink washed from paper? It was impossible to discuss this question with Mr. Cho on our first outing. Knowing that my mother would be aghast if she were to hear our conversation, I tried to lighten the subject, "Is this why you're named Calvin? Did you choose it?"

"No!" He laughed. "My teacher and mentor Dr. Sherwood suggested it because I enjoy discourse and theory. He expected me to become a leader in theology. He has far too much confidence in me, I'm afraid."

Absorbed in our talk, I spoke spontaneously, "I doubt that."

"You flatter me, Miss Han."

Then I blushed thoroughly, remembering that he was not only a man but a marriage prospect as well. My apology died on my lips as I was made wordless by his dazzlingly warm smile. I turned to fold an already folded towel and sliced the persimmon, which Mr. Cho proceeded to devour.

I began to pack the containers, fitting them together in the clever puzzle way of the j.a.panese, and was shocked when he handed me the lid and gathered the cups. Never before had I seen a man help at the table this way! Its oddness made the repugnancy resurface. "Here, I can do that. You're distracting me with the cups."

"Pardon me. We were just four boys and Mother was often ill. We learned to do nearly everything." He stood to gather his side of the cloth. "I'm so relaxed after lunch that I quite forgot myself."

"Now you're teasing me," I said. Immediately regretting the familiarity with which I'd spoken to him-as if talking to Hansu!-I s.n.a.t.c.hed the cloth from him and knotted its corners firmly into handles. He insisted on carrying the bundle, and we ambled slowly back. I breathed the companionable summer air and felt enveloped in the afternoon light slipping yellow through the willows, and the thoughtfulness from our conversation lingered like the languid scent of honeysuckle.

We neared the house and he said, "I'm returning to Pyeongyang tonight, but I've enjoyed my visit, today in particular." I bowed, furious to be blushing. He stopped, and when we instinctively glanced at each other, I was startled by a recognition that pa.s.sed between us.

"I- I'll be pa.s.sing this way in a month, for church business in Seoul for my father. I'll say goodbye to your family now, but may I visit again then?"

I nodded mutely, relieved that he'd delay any progress of this-whatever confounding thing this was-for a few weeks. He turned toward the house and I took a few steps beside him, the blood swelling in my temples as I understood that I believed he was very much a decent man and would be good for me. "Yes," I said, and wanting to show him something of my heart, I smiled and extended my hand to take the picnic bundle. I saw charmingly crooked teeth in his smile. His hand touched mine when he gave me the bundle. I was alarmed that someone might be watching us from the house, and my other hand flew up to wave goodbye. Our fingertips met again in mid-air. My neck aflame, I ran a few steps back, turned and bobbed. "Goodbye then. I'll take this-"

He bowed. "Goodbye, Miss Han. Until May." I hurried off, but not before I saw him watching me go, his own neck red, his eyes dark and shining.

I took the long way around the house and stopped to gather myself in the shady silkworm shed, my confusion acute. I believed I was loath to be married, and yet the day had opened new veins of emotion within me. I tried to drown the sensations that made my thoughts ridiculous and my body rampantly hot and cold. I smelled the dried persimmon juice on my fingers and counted the facts of his visits: four days and no proposal, one month and he'd visit again, in four months at the end of summer he'd go to America. Should a betrothal occur, I calculated that a wedding would be postponed at least three years until Mr. Cho returned. I sighed, then couldn't decide if my breath held relief or regret. The air filled with rustling sounds of creatures chewing mulberry leaves in their netting-topped shallow boxes. I thought of how the caterpillars' tiny mindless lives culminated in the miraculous prized coc.o.o.ns, and remembered his mudworm story and my unvoiced thought which was laced with memories of Teacher Yee: that to regard suffering as a gift from G.o.d was an unfair measure of faith.

By the Beach

MAY 1934.

JAEYUN INVITED ME TO VACATION AT SEONGDOWAN BEACH RESORT IN Wonsan. She sent a roundtrip train ticket and said the room was fully paid. Once Mother learned that the train to Wonsan took a mere few hours-meaning Mr. Cho could visit me there if he was so inclined-she urged me to go. I had never been to the beach, nor had I ever been on vacation. Mother insisted that I sell a beaded decorative bronze crown that had been a gift from the princess. I had forgotten about the crown, and once it was unearthed from the secret pantry, its tinkling delicacy brought a flood of memories, and melancholy. So much had changed ...

Cook's most reliable peddler proved that such items now fetched astronomical prices from j.a.panese collectors. After repaying Jaeyun for my ticket and share of the hotel, I was able to give the remainder, more than two-thirds, to Mother. This helped me rationalize the trip's expense somewhat.

On the first day of vacation, I felt guilty about the leisure and carried sewing to the beach. Only after Jaeyun pointed out that the heavy woolen coat I was sewing for Dongsaeng was getting stained with sea spray and giving my legs p.r.i.c.kly heat did I leave it in the room. The ever-present saltiness and lapping foamy cold waters, combined with Jaeyun's pleasant company, soon relaxed me. I walked hours up and down the beach, fascinated by the constancy of the breathing waves, the debris that rose from the sea floor, and bird life that called and swooped to inspect it. After two days of frigid dips, the amusing problem of finding sand in our swimming costumes and bedding, and simple meals at the hotel restaurant, Jaeyun and I hiked a pine-studded rocky promontory that jutted up from the beach.

"I almost forgot to tell you," said Jaeyun, panting. "My father says he would happily support your hiring at Gaeseong Hospital. Even though it wouldn't be obstetrics, you'd be working with him in surgery."

I climbed behind her. "If only I could. Who would've imagined that one day I could work beneath your father?" We rested in an alcove cut into the switchback trail overlooking the sea below, and admired the shimmering view. The endless sky melted into the pale edge of the water, as if sea and sky were one, spurring me to wonder where I fit in this world. With the consideration of Mr. Cho, my future seemed as distant and unclear as the horizon.

Jaeyun had bobbed her hair, and in another attempt to convince me to cut mine, said how refreshing the air felt on her bare neck. I discounted her argument by twisting my braid into a bun secured instantly with a twig. I peeled bark off another twig and idly dug in the sandy soil that filled the cracks in the rocks we sat on.

Jaeyun tucked her skirt around her knees. "Your father says no to a job?"

"I've worked outside the home before, but my father didn't like it then, and he doesn't want the women in his house to work outside now. You know how old-fashioned he is." I wouldn't insult my friend with Father's low opinion of the nursing profession. "And besides," I added, glad to change the subject, "right now he appears to be focused on a certain husband-prospect my neighbor introduced us to."

"No! Tell me everything!"

I told her about Mr. Cho's visits, and as I finished my story, I realized I'd spoken wistfully.

"Yah, I think I can guess what you're feeling. Tell me, what's he like?"

"He's short. Strong lines in his face, though. Dresses Western style. You know how some men look idiotic in those clothes? He's very smartly turned out. I think a bit of a fop actually. But he's intelligent and obviously a good Christian. My mother likes that most about him."

"You like him!"

"Stop it!" I shoved her gently and we laughed. Sobering, I said, "I consider it fortunate if a prospect has a kind heart. He has that."

"Three years in America. Such a long time to wait." Jaeyun gazed at the glimmering water. Her chin on her knees, she said, "Do you love him?"

"Love! What an idea."

"Now it's you who's sounding old-fashioned!"

"It's not that. I'm a burden to my father." I had noticed sharpness in Jaeyun's reply. "And you? You know something of love?"

A breeze reached up from the sh.o.r.e and carried her sigh. "There's a doctor at the hospital."

"How wonderful for you! Now it's your turn to tell me everything."

"It's not wonderful, Najin. Well, I mean, he's he's wonderful." wonderful."

"What's he like? A doctor. Why isn't it wonderful? Is he already married?"

"Not that! I'm not anybody's teahouse girl!"

"Yah, I was teasing." I suspected something amiss and decided to wait for the entire story before I said anything else that might hurt my friend. Think of others first, echoed in my mind's ear. "How did you meet?"

"At Tokyo University. Everyone was cruel to me there, except him. In a.s.sembly I'd catch him watching me from his side of the auditorium. Well, we didn't actually meet. We didn't speak the entire two years I was there, but I noticed that whenever we had rallies or a.s.semblies, he'd sit close to the aisle separating the girls and boys, and now and then he'd smile at me."

"How embarra.s.sing."

"It was, but I don't think anyone noticed except me. The girls would've made my life more miserable if they suspected."

"I'm sorry you had such a hard time." I touched her knee.

"Well, none of that really mattered, you see, because my Tokyo degree led me to my job at Seoul Hospital, and on my very first day there, I saw him in the hallway."

"Aigu! What coincidence!"

"He looked so excited to see me, an enormous smile, and I was so startled I don't even remember if I said anything to acknowledge him. I just continued on my first-day tour but can't recall anything else from that day except the light in his face."

"Oh Jaeyun."

"That was two years ago. He's a doctor now. We take walks together, go to restaurants and parks, but have to be careful that no one from the hospital sees us."

"They don't allow it?"

"It's not that." She turned her head.

She was too sad to be in love, and an awful idea began to form. "What's his name?"

"Ruichi Murayama."

"His Korean name?"

"He isn't-hasn't one."

"Oh, Jaeyun. How could could you?" you?"

"I didn't mean to! I fought it, tried to avoid him. It happened. It was meant to happen." Her eyes filled. "It's impossible! What would my parents think? Look at how you're reacting. He can't help his birth. I can't help mine."

"Poor Romeo and Juliet. Please don't let it get the better of you. It's an impossibility." Another reason to scoff at romantic love: it removed propriety and common sense. I recognized how stodgy this sounded and remembered the princess's story about her brother, Crown Prince Uimin, and his lovely j.a.panese wife, Princess Bangja Masako of Nashimoto. "What will you do?"

"He wants to marry me. He says he'll take me back to j.a.pan and we can start fresh, as if I were j.a.panese. He thinks no one need ever know."

"But your family!"

"I know." Jaeyun covered her wet eyes. "Do you think I don't know that? Why do you think I don't come home? Every letter, every visit, it's this fine doctor here, that smart doctor there, grandsons, grandsons! I can't bear it."

I gave my friend my handkerchief and looked to the sea. Two hours by ship lay j.a.pan, geographic sister, racial enemy, the rigid master of an enslaved nation, exiled home of the crumbling remains of Korea's royal family-and birthplace to one Dr. Murayama. I didn't know what to say. Jaeyun blew her nose, and I tucked a tear-damp lock of hair around her ear. "He must be quite something," I said. "But it doesn't take 'quite something' to see your beauty and intelligence." I tried to think of what my mother might say. Jaeyun was Buddhist, but her family did not actively practice. "If you were Christian, I'd tell you to trust G.o.d or have faith."

"Thank you. I don't know what will happen."

"I'll pray for you. I'm not much of a praying person, but for you I can easily pray."

She smiled through her reddened eyes. "It's a relief to be able to tell someone. One thing you can do is say nothing when he comes to see me tomorrow."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"We'll go around the point to the farthest strip of beach. He'll meet me there, so we won't be seen in the hotel together. Will you be all right on your own? It's only a day. Do you mind very much? It means everything to me."

"I'll pack picnic lunches for you."

"You are a dear friend. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"There's a small library at the hotel. I'll find something to read. And there's always Dongsaeng's coat waiting for me!" I laughed, and when she hugged my arms, I squeezed back, fearful of her apparently deep involvement with Dr. Ruichi Murayama.

At the hotel when we asked for the room key, the clerk handed me a note. I thought I recognized the handwriting, although I hadn't seen his writing in j.a.panese before.

"You're blushing! Is it from that future minister-husband of yours?" Jaeyun tugged me upstairs to our room. "Come on! Quickly. Tell me what it says!"

"Seaside greetings, Miss Han," I read, my throat dry.

"I told you so!"

Though I wanted to read it away from the embarra.s.singly teasing eyes of my friend, I held the folded paper open for both our eyes.

I send this note a day ahead, hoping you will spare a moment to receive me on Thursday. I expect to arrive midmorning and would be most pleased if you would provide me the honor of meeting in your hotel lobby an hour before noon. Perhaps we could break bread together?Respectfully, Calvin Cho "How proper he is!" said Jaeyun.

"It seems I'll be occupied with something other than Dongsaeng's coat tomorrow."

"How did he find you?"

"My father must have told him."

"Which could only mean-"

"Don't say it! Don't!"

She danced around the room, singing, "You know as well as I know as well as you know ..."

I sat on the floor and covered my ears, laughing, "Stop it! Stop!"

When we calmed down enough to go to dinner, I asked Jaeyun the one ridiculous thing that I couldn't believe was stuck in my mind. "What will you wear tomorrow?"

"Your dongsaeng's coat, of course. You better finish it tonight!"

"You're crazy!"