The Calligrapher's Daughter Part 15

In the restaurant we ordered cold noodle soup with chopped vegetables. Refreshing slivers of ice slid between the fat noodles and soothed our tongues burning with hot pepper paste. Surrounded by a few j.a.panese patrons at the other tables, we spoke j.a.panese softly.

"I've been planning my boyfriend's visit for weeks, so I know what I'm wearing," said Jaeyun. "I just don't know which color. Wait till you see them. I bought cheongsam cheongsam dresses, Chinese style dresses in the most lightweight silk, one dark blue and the other pale green. I think I'll wear the green, since it looks summery. Have you ever worn one?" dresses, Chinese style dresses in the most lightweight silk, one dark blue and the other pale green. I think I'll wear the green, since it looks summery. Have you ever worn one?"

"Goodness, no! I can't think of where I'd ever wear one. So revealing!"

"Your wedding day."

"Shh!"

"The blue would look great on you. You must borrow it for your big day tomorrow!"

"You are are crazy! My mother would die on the spot if she knew I was even considering it. And who says it's such a big day? I remind you that 'Perhaps we could break bread' is what his note said." And I remembered word-for-word the previous sentence: crazy! My mother would die on the spot if she knew I was even considering it. And who says it's such a big day? I remind you that 'Perhaps we could break bread' is what his note said." And I remembered word-for-word the previous sentence: and would be most pleased if you would provide the honor of meeting me and would be most pleased if you would provide the honor of meeting me ... I'd only read such flowery language in translations of English literature and guessed that he'd read the same sorts of books. One day I would have to ask him. I smiled. ... I'd only read such flowery language in translations of English literature and guessed that he'd read the same sorts of books. One day I would have to ask him. I smiled.

"What?" said Jaeyun, slanting her eyes at me.

"I just realized that I was thinking of a future with Mr. Cho."

"First thing you'll have to do is stop calling him 'Mr. Cho.'"

"Reverend Cho is better? Cho Moksa Moksa?"

"Cho Moksa-nim! His Honorable Reverend Cho!" she said with wicked irreverence. His Honorable Reverend Cho!" she said with wicked irreverence.

"And you," I said. "His Honorable Doctor Murayama!" We fell into teasing whispered silliness until even the slurp of her or my noodles, or the curious glances of the other guests, set us to giggling like children.

Later that night in bed, I stared at the ceiling and listened to Jaeyun breathe steadily with sleep. The freedom of the day with my friend unlocked my mind to introspection. Was this what I wanted or was it my duty? I wondered what his home life was like, for it might become my home life, and remembered Hansu's description of whirring sewing machines and two floors of rooms crowded with patriots. I recalled Mr. Cho's stories and his odd helpfulness in cleaning up our picnic. Although he'd described his mother as kindly and capable, I wondered what kind of mother would raise her boys to do women's work. It sounded chaotic compared to the orderliness of my father's house. Could I fit in? I'd adjusted well to many different living situations already, but I'd be the only daughter-in-law at the Cho home and far from my mother. But what was I thinking? Anything could happen in three years!

Still, he had proven his decency to my parents, and I appreciated his modern consideration of my ideas. His intelligence and knowledge were certainly appealing, but what could he possibly see in me? With my dowry, he obviously wasn't an opportunist. He seemed genuine in all things-if a little pedantic in his intellectualism. Would I be doing a disservice to G.o.d if I married a man of G.o.d? What about s.e.x? This thought rushed through my body as if I were swimming in the sea, its salty waters wholly, coolly enveloping my limbs. I opened my eyes wide and tried to banish all thoughts of marriage from my mind by tracing Chinese characters amid the shadows and light, but I stopped when they formed the letters of his name. I chastised myself for foolishness and bluntly decided to wear my everyday summer hanbok. I forced my eyes closed and eventually fell asleep, the soft-edged characters of his name floating in and out of the edges of my consciousness.

I DECIDED NOT to break bread with Mr. Cho in the hotel restaurant where people watched and noticed things. I also wanted to be free to speak Korean, should our discussion follow a similar direction as the last time. I was certain he was fluent in j.a.panese, but Korean words had a richer, more fulfilling taste in my mouth. I woke early, found the village market and purchased boiled eggs, steamed buns and dried mackerel, splurging on ripe southern peaches for four picnic lunches. I ordered two kettles of water and tin cups from the restaurant. Back in the room, Jaeyun looked thoroughly modern in her Chinese dress and bobbed hair. I complimented her vigorously, noting in particular the natural shine in her cheeks, and urged her to forget about everything except enjoying the day. Who knew how many such days they'd have? She thanked me profusely for the picnic, which I helped carry until the beach rounded the point.

I walked back and sat on a wooden chaise close to the hotel, watching the waves until the sun rose halfway to noon. In the scant library, I perused the slender volumes and chose a j.a.panese translation of Pilgrim's Progress Pilgrim's Progress. To avoid the nosy stares of hotel staff, I sat out front in a spare little garden of scattered flowering bushes and a few old cedars, and I read, distracted by the impending visit.

He came bicycling down the sandy road wearing a broad-brimmed gray hat, his sleeves rolled outside of his black suit jacket. I stood and waved, and immediately felt idiotic about the showy h.e.l.lo. The bike wobbled as he slowed, braking, and dismounted. He blotted his brow with a handkerchief, rolled down his sleeves, slapped dust from his jacket and smiled. I remembered his crooked teeth, one lined in gold, and returned his smile, gesturing him to sit. There were a few people about so he spoke in j.a.panese. As suspected, he spoke it well. "In America, a gentleman remains standing until the lady is seated."

"Backward style." I left room on the bench for him, feeling relaxed in his easy company.

"They'd say we're backward."

"Soon you'll learn how backward they think we we are." are."

"I believe what I might learn is exactly how backward they they are. You, on the other hand," said Mr. Cho, pointing to my book, "are very forward with your language ability." are. You, on the other hand," said Mr. Cho, pointing to my book, "are very forward with your language ability."

I liked his wittiness. "It's not a very good translation. I read it years ago in Chinese."

"An odd coincidence that you'd have that book. I don't want to appear as if I'm boasting, but it's my mother's favorite story. I'm sure she'll tell you one day."

My stomach lurched at the suggestion of a future with his mother. "Perhaps you'll tell me first."

Smiling faintly, he looked distantly to the sea, a view mostly obscured by the hotel. "When I was three, an aunt pa.s.sed away. Many people gathered at my grandfather's house for her funeral, and my mother wanted to entertain them in some way. Not able to read Chinese herself, she'd always been overly proud that I could read at such an early age. In the bad light of a fish-oil lamp, I read a chapter from Pilgrim's Progress Pilgrim's Progress and can still hear the murmurs of surprise. My father says this is the reason I was such a lazy student-too much pride, too early. Naturally he was correct." and can still hear the murmurs of surprise. My father says this is the reason I was such a lazy student-too much pride, too early. Naturally he was correct."

"The pride is justified." I thought of my own struggles with pride. "But you said finding G.o.d helped."

"It did. But that's a long story for another time."

Again a reference to the future! I quickly proposed the simple picnic rather than the stuffy restaurant on such a beautiful day. "Unless you think it's too humid."

"Not at all. If it gets hotter, perhaps you won't mind if I remove my jacket?"

I looked at him and saw only the question he'd asked. I lowered my eyes. "Excuse me for staring, but it's unusual that you'd ask me permission. Is it because of the Western learning you've had?"

"Perhaps it is. I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable."

"You're not. You're very kind. Like your note yesterday." I looked directly at him, then blushed at my true forwardness and his warm smile in return. Noting his lack of luggage and the rental sticker on the bicycle, I said, "Are you at a guest house close by?"

"I took the train up for the day and will return at sundown."

I nodded, then felt at a loss. What was he doing here? What was I doing with him?

He shifted on the bench and crossed a leg. "I visited your parents for a few days before coming this way."

I didn't want to think about what might have transpired those few days. Luckily the word visit visit reminded me of my hostess responsibilities. I told him Jaeyun was visiting another friend and we were left to ourselves. He readily agreed to hike the promontory and have a picnic in the little alcove overlooking the sea. As we headed toward the rocky path, I stayed a respectful few steps behind him, but soon he stopped, removed his jacket, came back, took the picnic bundle, including the teakettle, and gave me his hat to carry. Fl.u.s.tered by all these activities in public, I hardly knew what was going on until I found him walking beside me up the mountain path. I covered my mouth in worried embarra.s.sment. "Shouldn't we- shouldn't I-" reminded me of my hostess responsibilities. I told him Jaeyun was visiting another friend and we were left to ourselves. He readily agreed to hike the promontory and have a picnic in the little alcove overlooking the sea. As we headed toward the rocky path, I stayed a respectful few steps behind him, but soon he stopped, removed his jacket, came back, took the picnic bundle, including the teakettle, and gave me his hat to carry. Fl.u.s.tered by all these activities in public, I hardly knew what was going on until I found him walking beside me up the mountain path. I covered my mouth in worried embarra.s.sment. "Shouldn't we- shouldn't I-"

"We can talk better this way." He gestured to the few people strolling the grounds and beachfront. "Besides, most of the guests are j.a.panese. They won't give us a second thought." He had switched to Korean.

I didn't think I'd be able to speak any language at all and wondered if my father knew just how modern he was.

My worry about his carrying the picnic weighed heavily, making the climb seem far more difficult than yesterday's hike. He had an energetic step and a sure foot, and he paused often to comment on a rock formation or a peculiarly shaped leaf in an undergrowth plant.

"Let me take that now." I pointed to the bundle he'd set down to look closer at a fossilized sh.e.l.l in a rock fragment.

"See its impression in the stone? Perhaps this clam was at the bottom of the sea at one time." He picked up the bundle and went farther uphill. Shortly, I tried to claim it again. "I see that I'm making you uncomfortable," he said. "Take the kettle then, and give back the hat. I'm not sure which is making you uneasy-carrying the clothes off my back or me doing, as you say, 'women's work.'" I knew he was teasing, but the situation was too awkward for me to smile.

"Really, I'm fine." I clutched the kettle gratefully and he carried his hat by its brim. My fingers itched for the bundle, but I didn't want to call further attention to the subject. At a steep part of the path, he clambered up and turned with his hand extended. I gave him the kettle and grabbed a branch to pull myself up. He walked ahead and didn't stop or look back for some time. I flushed with confusion and shame, sure he was irritated at me because he now carried everything, and I hadn't even acknowledged the hand he had thoughtfully offered. Was I supposed to have grasped his hand rather than the branch? How improper! But is that what he wanted, and when I refused, did it anger him? Anxiety froze my tongue and his silent back nearly drove me to tears. I saw a break in the pines ahead; the alcove was around the turn.

"Eh- Excuse me, Reverend Cho, it's just around the corner."

"I see it! A beautiful spot. Fantastic view!" He set everything down and spread his jacket. I neared slowly, afraid to look at him. "But I'm not 'Reverend' quite yet, although you honor me to say so. Please sit on my coat, won't you?" He breathed heavily and turned to the sea, his hands on his hips.

"I couldn't!" I nearly shouted.

His eyes grew wide and he opened his palms. "Miss Han! What is it? Have I done something to offend you?"

"No, no!" I sat heavily on the rock beside his spread jacket, twisting my worried hands. "Please forgive me. I've offended you you!"

"But you haven't. Not at all. I'm very sorry. What happened?"

His question unleashed a blur of tear-filled words. "I don't understand your Western ways. I don't know what you want!" Then I saw how ridiculous I was, and covered my face with my hands.

I was aware that he picked up his jacket and sat next to me. I had never felt such humiliation. He said nothing, and after a while I lowered my hands, red-faced and still. "Please excuse my outburst," I said quietly. "Forgive me. I'm really quite ashamed."

He spoke slowly. "Miss Han. Forgive me. me. I am a b.u.mpkin. Your father said you'd spent a few years in the royal court. I can see that my manner must be coa.r.s.e to you. I apologize again. I've spoken to your father and mother, and perhaps now I should make myself very clear." He rustled in his trouser pocket and brought forth a small padded silk purse, the kind used for jewelry. I refused to think it was something for me. He fumbled with its slippery string tie, and I noticed his flat elongated nails, and how clean and smooth his hands were-hands nicer than mine. I couldn't breathe when he took my left hand, his fingertips dry and trembling slightly, turned my palm up and pressed in it a fine circle of gold knotted with a fiery dot of red. I am a b.u.mpkin. Your father said you'd spent a few years in the royal court. I can see that my manner must be coa.r.s.e to you. I apologize again. I've spoken to your father and mother, and perhaps now I should make myself very clear." He rustled in his trouser pocket and brought forth a small padded silk purse, the kind used for jewelry. I refused to think it was something for me. He fumbled with its slippery string tie, and I noticed his flat elongated nails, and how clean and smooth his hands were-hands nicer than mine. I couldn't breathe when he took my left hand, his fingertips dry and trembling slightly, turned my palm up and pressed in it a fine circle of gold knotted with a fiery dot of red.

"Miss Han, will you be my wife?"

My throat caught, a small breathy gasp. I looked at the jewel. I looked at him and saw he was unsure of my response, his eyes deep, serious, open to me and yes, loving. It shocked me, the unjudging wanting I saw, and I felt my body flood with unexpected relief, grat.i.tude and acceptance. My eyes filled and I nodded.

He cupped my hand and held the ring to show me. "I'm afraid it's another Western tradition. An engagement ring. In America they give diamonds for longevity, but I'm ashamed to say this was all I could afford." He slipped it on my finger. "You honor me if you'll wear it thus."

"I- Beautiful- Too much-"

"Does that mean yes?"

"Yes! Oh! I thought you were angry. I thought I'd displeased you somehow!"

"That is is my fault. I was eager to reach this place. Now you can guess why." my fault. I was eager to reach this place. Now you can guess why."

I covered my lips and laugh-cried. "Such a beautiful place. A lovely jewel."

"A small ruby. I wish it was more."

"No. It's beautiful. Perfection." I smiled at him and saw my unexpected joy reflected in his smile, his gold-edged tooth amazingly endearing.

"Han Najin," he said.

"Mr. Cho," I responded. "I mean-Cho Calvin, Jeong-excuse me-"

"Calvin." He laughed.

"Let me pour you some water." I wished I had something to give him besides food. "Do Western women give men a token of betrothal in return?"

"They don't. I believe saying yes is enough of a token for the man."

I watched my ringed finger as I filled the tin cups and set out the buns. "Mother will be pleased, I think."

"She was very happy, and I must say she gave me plenty of a.s.surance. I was quite nervous. Your father, too, was more than agreeable."

I appreciated this little confession about his anxiety and wanted to tell him about Father trying to marry me off earlier, but decided I'd wait a few years before telling that story, maybe after a few sons. The thought of children led to thoughts of conceiving them-with this very man!-and I was so mortified I busied myself unnecessarily with arranging our picnic.

Calvin said grace, thanking G.o.d for the blessing of our engagement. We ate looking out over the sea, gentle winds stirring the dark scrub pines above us. Everything appeared brightly saturated with color-salty, sharp and fresh-and I understood by his exclamations over the shining scene below that he felt the same.

He ate as quickly as I'd witnessed before, but this time he refused my offer of the remainder of my fish and bun.

"Miss Han," he said, and I delighted in hearing my name from his lips. "I've taken some liberties with your future." Surprised, I stopped chewing. "Your mother told me that you hope to attend medical school one day." A buzzing filled my ears and I swatted the air.

"When I returned to Pyeongyang after meeting your family, I immediately spoke to my father." He chuckled. "My father has long awaited this day. I'm afraid I've tested his patience for quite some time. He was very pleased to hear of my intentions and suggested I ask my sponsor if he knew of a school that would accept you for graduate work."

It was terribly forward, but I had to ask, "In America?" I grasped a peach and rubbed its fuzz vigorously to mask my shaking hands.

"Yes." Calvin slid off the rock and crouched before me. I concentrated on the peaches. "Dr. Sherwood said American colleges have different requirements than ours, and that you'd need to enroll in a premedical course of study: biology, chemistry, anatomy, that sort of thing. There's a women's college, called Goucher, in Baltimore on the East Coast, that's hosted emigre students from China. He knows several people there and has written to them on our behalf." Calvin spoke faster. "I-I'd like to take you to America as my wife. I know it's sudden and an unusual request of a new bride, but your mother says it's your dream and I-I couldn't imagine waiting for my return to marry."

My hands still, I looked at him at last. His features shone with excitement, his eyes round and earnest. I bowed my head, overcome.

"Please- I don't mean to give you false ideas." He leaned forward. "Dr. Sherwood encouraged me heartily in this. He said he was sure it would merely be a matter of a few letters and some minor formalities, particularly since-well, your mother told me you were second in your cla.s.s, that you minored in nursing and you've been practicing midwifery. Will you consider it? We have much to accomplish by the end of the summer and I know it's sudden but can you, do you-" He stopped and bent his head a moment, as if to slow his tumbling words. "What do you think?"

I clasped the peaches in my lap and looked at him clear-eyed. "Yes, if you please." My voice, which I'd always heard inside as being low and scratchy, sounded bell-like in clarity.

He exclaimed relief and sat backward, laughing as he caught himself from tumbling off the rock.

I half stood as if to catch him, and instead caught the peaches rolling from my lap. "I never considered, I never really believed it could happen."

"G.o.d is good."

"Amen." I studied my ring, which now seemed laden with an enormity of hope I hadn't known possible. The peaches felt round and full in my hands and I offered him one.

"Wonderful." He clasped my hand around the peach. His cool palm pressed my fingers against the polished skin of the soft fruit, and I flushed to my toes.

"We have much to do. Can you send me your transcripts and list all the employment you've had? Most impressive will be the jobs you've had with missionaries. Yes, your mother told me quite a lot about you. You must ask your missionary friends for a recommendation. That's a letter they write describing your character and work. I know it's strange, but you must lose all modesty in these matters. It's important to boast about yourself if you want to be accepted into an American college. Modest pride will not serve you in this endeavor. You'll have to apply for a pa.s.sport. I wish I knew someone in Gaeseong- Well, I'll ask my friend if he can help."

To answer my puzzled look he said, "I have an old cla.s.smate, a j.a.panese man who works in the police department in Pennamdo in Pyeongyang. He's been very helpful with my pa.s.sport application. But we can address that later. Once your college admission is settled, we can set a wedding date for sometime this summer."

"You've done so much." I kept my head low not knowing where to point my eyes, directed as they were east to America! I saw in the reflection of his shined black shoes that he gripped the peach, but it seemed to spin like a top he'd set whirling with his repeated words-our and and we we-its wind spreading my life before me in impossibly new ways. What would Jaeyun say!

"I expect the date may change, but at this point, I'm planning to depart on my birthday-the seventeenth day of the ninth month-"

"That's mine!"

"It isn't!"

"It is! By the farmer's calendar in 1910."

"The same for me, in 1909. Yah, praise G.o.d. We were destined." His chin shook with emotion and he clasped both my hands. The simple gesture, imbued with intimacy, stirred me deep inside, suffusing heat and humiliation that crested in tears.

I pushed him away. "I'm sorry."

Confusion flickered through his eyes. "Please don't be upset."

"It's not upset. I'm overcome."

"I too." He walked to the edge of the overlook and gazed afar. Momentarily he said, "We'll be married before our birthday in September, then." His forthrightness made me laugh when he added, "Had we been more traditional, we would have known sooner about our birthday from a matchmaker."

I thought that his birth in the Year of the Rooster was a good sign, a natural-born leader, proud and forward thinking. It would be easy to follow such footsteps, especially as they would cross the ocean! I remembered the cla.s.sic poem my father had quoted to welcome me home, and considering Mr. Cho's birth year, saw it now as an omen: The way home is a thousand li; an autumn night is even longer. / Ten times already I have been home, but the c.o.c.k has not yet crowed. The way home is a thousand li; an autumn night is even longer. / Ten times already I have been home, but the c.o.c.k has not yet crowed.

Calvin said, "My father will marry us at West Gate Church. It doesn't matter that your family is Methodist and mine Presbyterian. Your parents were agreeable on that aspect. Your mother actually said that my course of study in different seminaries should eventually prove if it mattered or not. She's remarkable!" He reached for my hand. "And her daughter is just as remarkable."

His palm felt cool, dry and serene. "I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing. Say you'll be my wife! Say you'll come to America with me!"