The Calligrapher's Daughter Part 16

I laughed with his exuberance, only remembering to cover my mouth at the end.

He opened his arms wide to the sea. "Nothing would make me happier than having you beside me on a steamer bound for Los Angeles."

This new sentimental language of affection he freely used felt too foreign for me, but his expressiveness brought me to my feet. The peach slipped from my lap, rolled into a crevice in the rock and dropped out of reach, smashing in a gorgeous display of orange and pink broken flesh. I said nothing, but Calvin saw and offered me his. "Too bad. Have this. What's mine is now yours."

I pushed it gently back to him. "What's mine is now yours." He smiled just the way I hoped he would. Surprised by my own boldness, I turned to the view. I could clearly see the curve of the horizon and wanted just then to be immersed in those waves whose same waters lapped on the sh.o.r.es of my future.

For a time, we remarked on the beauty of the water and the sky-those expansive forms in nature the only vessels large enough to contain our unspoken feelings. When the sea began to darken in the descending sun, I packed the picnic things and said we should go-he'd miss his train.

I followed him down the trail. He carried everything and I no longer minded.

Like the Sun

SUMMER 1934.

JAEYUN GAVE ME THE DARK BLUE CHINESE DRESS AS AN ENGAGEMENT gift when we parted at the train station early Sunday morning. She looked soft and fragile. I said to her, "Don't decide anything yet, promise?" She'd told me that Dr. Murayama had urged her to break with her family, knowing he'd be drafted for military medical service when his residency ended in a year. I released my friend's hands and used my eyes to plead. My own heart, touched as it was by Calvin Cho, felt in turmoil. "Anything can happen. At least come home and see your parents before you decide."

"Maybe." Jaeyun turned away. "Back to work!" she said brightly and waved goodbye.

On the train home, I tried to find the word for how different I felt. Womanly Womanly came to mind. On the st.u.r.dy wooden benches in second cla.s.s, which were half filled, I jostled with the train, bouncing heavily on uneven tracks. All the windows were open and I held a handkerchief to my nose against the fumes. Through the smoke and dawn mist I saw pines clinging stubbornly to the sides of a mountain pa.s.s, and I spontaneously prayed for Jaeyun and gave thanks for Calvin and all the possibilities he'd brought. A vision of his tidy hands holding the peach made me shiver. I let my mind play back the seaside afternoon and rubbed my fingers together to feel the ring. came to mind. On the st.u.r.dy wooden benches in second cla.s.s, which were half filled, I jostled with the train, bouncing heavily on uneven tracks. All the windows were open and I held a handkerchief to my nose against the fumes. Through the smoke and dawn mist I saw pines clinging stubbornly to the sides of a mountain pa.s.s, and I spontaneously prayed for Jaeyun and gave thanks for Calvin and all the possibilities he'd brought. A vision of his tidy hands holding the peach made me shiver. I let my mind play back the seaside afternoon and rubbed my fingers together to feel the ring.

In Gaeseong I walked home in a reverie brought on by thoughts of my betrothal and the echo of the clacking train. Turning the corner to climb the hill toward home, I saw an unusual sight: Byungjo standing guard over a dusty black automobile outside our gate, surrounded by boys and some pa.s.sersby attempting to touch it and peer into its windows. As I neared, he called, "h.e.l.lo, Ahsee!" and importantly shooed the curious away from the sedan.

Inside the gate my mother greeted me hastily and said I should attend the American visitors waiting for Father, who had gone to town. "I think they want something to do with you. They actually asked if this was your your house! I couldn't really tell-their j.a.panese is dreadful and their Korean is worse. Aigu! Where's Father? I'm getting them water. Too bad we have no ice. Quickly! He's a minister!" house! I couldn't really tell-their j.a.panese is dreadful and their Korean is worse. Aigu! Where's Father? I'm getting them water. Too bad we have no ice. Quickly! He's a minister!"

I dropped my bundle in my room and hurried to Father's sitting room, brushing my clothes and straightening my shoulders. A bent pink-faced man with a clerical collar paced the room, and a fair woman dressed in a loose beige suit with narrow features and a distinctive nose sat squarely on Father's dinner table. When I bowed, the woman stood-a full head or more taller than me-and the minister bowed awkwardly. I said in j.a.panese, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. My father should return at any moment. Please have refreshment?"

"Thank you, no. The lady already, uh, get water," said the man, bowing again.

"Please excuse me a moment." I watched the tall woman seat herself once more on Father's low table, whose spindly legs I feared would collapse. "I'll bring you something more comfortable to sit on."

"What's that? Can you speaking slow?"

I tried again using the English word for chair.

"No, no need. We can't stay greatly. Our child he waiting home."

The woman said, "You speak English?" She paled even whiter and put one hand to her collar and the other to her lips.

"No, only a nittle." I switched back to j.a.panese. "Excuse me. Not enough to converse."

"Same as my j.a.panese good." The man smiled and made his funny bow. I'd thought from his light-colored thinning hair that he was very old, but his few wrinkles and energetic pacing exposed his youth. His eyebrows were blond, almost unnoticeable. I'd never before seen such a pink man. "My name is Reverend Harold Bennett and this is my wife, Mrs. Edna Bennett. Are you the Miss Han, the fiancee of Calvin Cho, uh, of the younger Reverend Cho?"

Startled, I felt my cheeks warm. I had seen Calvin just three days ago. "Yes, but how-?"

"We know Dr. Sherwood yesterday in Pyeongyang, er, Reverend Sherwood. He give us your joyful marry news. My goodness! Blessings, my dear!" he exclaimed in English. "We stay house of Sherwood two weeks to get, um, used to living." Through an amusing mix of j.a.panese, Korean, English and hand signs, I learned that they had recently come from America to pastor a new Presbyterian church in Gaeseong. Calvin must have rushed home and told his mentor everything, who in turn told the Bennetts. In the sedan that belonged to the Pyeongyang Presbyterian Mission, borrowed for some extenuating circ.u.mstance I couldn't grasp, they'd driven down this morning, and after stopping at the manse, had spent an hour trying to locate our house. They had a small son waiting at home with a nanny and were eager to leave. Mother brought water, apologizing for the lack of ice, and a bowl of plums from our tree, which I knew would be as hard as wood.

Everyone bowed again. Reverend Bennett asked in his funny language if this was my mother, and I understood that he originally thought she was a servant. For the first time in my life I faced the impossible situation of introducing my mother. Clearly these foreigners, esteemed as they were, knew little of our customs. In addition, I acutely felt the impropriety of receiving guests, not only in lieu of Father but in his very sitting room! Fortunately, Mother bowed and said, "Yes, Reverend, this person is Najin's mother," easing the discomfort.

"I'll get something for Mrs. Bennett to sit on," I said to Mother in Korean.

"No! You stay!" Mother almost ran off.

"Miss Han," said Mrs. Bennett, coming forward to take my hand. "Reverend Sherwood talk you teach Korean and j.a.panese. We also job, uh, new house."

My face showed nothing other than my lit eyes. "I'll have to speak to my father, but I'm overcome by your thoughtfulness. Thank you!" I was anxious enough wondering how Father had reacted to Calvin's proposal and our future plans, and had no idea what he'd say to this added development.

"Dr. Sherwood talks, uh, good wages and help papers to American college. My goodness! You come highly recommended, my dear, highly recommended," he ended in English.

I bowed again, surprised and pleased. Mother brought a stool with a cushion on top and gestured that Mrs. Bennett should sit. When Mrs. Bennett did so, she glanced at where she had previously sat and realized her gaffe. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" she said in English. "Please forgive me, I have-" She turned and whispered something to me. When I smiled politely, uncomprehending, she tried in j.a.panese, "Baby sick morning. Automobile is bad, large bad."

I waved my hands in understanding and gestured a swollen belly. When both the guests said, "My goodness, yes!" I said I had something that could help and hurried to the kitchen.

"But wait- We really going now. Sick not, really-"

I heard Mother saying how honored we were to receive an American minister and his wife, how sorry she was that the man of the house was out, how pleased he'd be to meet them, wouldn't they like a plum, and naturally they must stay for supper. I returned soon with a chamomile and ginger infusion. The Bennetts and my mother were smiling awkwardly at each other. "Please sip this. It's completely safe for the baby."

The Bennetts exchanged a few hurried words and Mother interrupted, gesturing a calm stomach. "Please excuse me, Reverend sir, my daughter graduated with excellence from Ewha in nursing as well as education, and also is a skilled midwife. Try just a little. See how it tastes." My eyes opened wide at my mother's proud and enthusiastic description of me.

"Go ahead, my dear. It's some kind of herb tea," said Reverend Bennett. "They're trying to help. I'm sure it's completely safe. A little odd tasting? No? Good." Mrs. Bennett shifted on the stool and patted her hair. I found myself staring at her complicated ma.s.s of curls and knots, all accented with a variety of brown and orange hues, and her pet.i.te yet sharply pointed nose remained a wonder from every angle. She sipped the tea and indicated it was fine.

Reverend Bennett asked me how soon I could start working for them. Mother looked at me, and I summarized the conversation. To Reverend Bennett I said, "Excuse me, but I must speak to my father before I-"

"She can start tomorrow!" said Mother. My eyes opened wider.

Trying to get directions to their manse proved impossible. I retrieved paper and pencil from my room and drew a map to the market square. Reverend Bennett then marked the church's location and the nearby manse and the matter was settled. "How very wonderful," said Mrs. Bennett. "I feel good absolutely fine now. Thank you very much. You cherub! How do you say angel angel?"

"Please, Madam, it's nothing. Thank you for coming, Reverend sir, for the job and the a.s.sistance with my education. I am indebted to you and Reverend Sherwood."

More thanks and the Bennetts stood to leave. Reverend Bennett grabbed both our hands and pumped them, causing a small commotion. Mother insisted on tying Mrs. Bennett's shoes for her while I wrapped chamomile leaves and ginger powder in a square of paper. "For the morning, Madam, with hot water. I'll bring more tomorrow." We walked them to the gate and waved at the departing automobile. The little crowd coughed in its exhaust. I caught Byungjo peeking to see that Mother and I were well inside the yard, then he showed a toothy grin to the roadside gathering and remarked that the black beast was impressive but had smelly farts. The crowd laughed, as did Mother and I, knowing we wouldn't be seen enjoying his joke.

Entering the house, I said, "Umma-nim-"

"If you're going to American college, you'll need money." She went to the sitting room, gathered the cups and told me to wipe and polish Father's table. She described Calvin's visit prior to his coming to see me, and explained they'd agreed to a September wedding to accommodate my traveling overseas with him. "After Mr. Cho left-yes, he was quite nervous but also quite charming-your father was convinced you'd need a job for steamer pa.s.sage and moving, and this one is a G.o.dsend. The Bennetts can help you practice English." She gave me a conspiratorial and merry smile. "Truly you are blessed!"

"Yes, Mother, I am. G.o.d is good," I said, copying Calvin's simplicity that first time together beneath the willows, and I thanked my mother for convincing Father about my need for work.

In the garden we picked ripe summer vegetables. As I described the beach days-avoiding Jaeyun's dilemma-I confirmed that each element of Calvin's proposal had received approval from Father. "He's very pleased with Mr. Cho," said Mother, tugging scallions easily from the earth. "And more agreeable than I've seen him in some time. Naturally we'll miss you. Is anything harder for a woman than to see her daughter depart in marriage? Yah," she sighed. "Now I clearly understand why my own mother wept every night for a week before my wedding day. But we're too blessed for crying!" I checked my mother's eyes: wet but bright with satisfaction.

"Where is Father?" I asked, suddenly aware that he'd been absent for longer than a walk to town.

Mother straightened from searching the squash vines and her expression darkened. "He's out with Dongsaeng."

"He's home again? Is it another term break?" I had seen my younger brother the weekend before I left for vacation. At fifteen years old, he was a few inches taller than me, his cheeks fully rounded, his waist slim and his shoulders broad. He'd been cranky when I measured him for the winter coat that I'd foolishly attempted to sew at the beach. He remained sullen and silent and the air around him was murky and jumbled. He seemed to be having particular difficulty adjusting to his young-man years, and I wondered if he believed that somehow I had influenced Father's decision to bring him home after I had graduated from Ewha. He wouldn't know that I hadn't told anyone about his falling grades and unsavory friends in Seoul, and he didn't seem to notice or care how events reported in the newspapers affected his life. When he was home last weekend, I'd asked about his boarding school and teased him about girls, but he only mumbled, "I have to study, Nuna. Leave me alone, won't you?" Later that day when I brought him a snack, I used all my big-sister skills to draw him out, but he said nothing and refused to meet my eyes.

I had obviously lost track of his school schedule with the excitement of the beach and my betrothal. "Is he home for the weekend? I can't wait to see him." I thought my news might inspire him to believe in untold possibilities for his own future. I knew that in many ways Father was stricter with Dongsaeng than he'd been with me.

"The term isn't finished until July," said Mother, "but you'll have plenty of time to see him now." She turned to comb the vines. "Your brother flunked out of school. He was asked to leave last Monday, the day after you left for the beach." She smiled weakly. "It's been a busy week!"

I took the squash she'd found and held her hand. "What happened?"

"His grades and they said his att.i.tude. Aigu, why doesn't he work harder? He's so intelligent! If he did the work he'd show them how brilliant he is. And what do they mean by att.i.tude att.i.tude? They must not be feeding him enough. No one can concentrate on an empty stomach."

I wondered if I should have told about his school troubles in Seoul. I saw that my attempt to protect him by withholding information about his problems might have contributed to his downfall. "Umma-nim, I-"

"Yah, never mind," said Mother, firmly clasping my hand. "You have a new job to worry about. He's home now where Father can watch him. We'll find another school, and I'm sure he'll be happier at home and do better. Certainly we'll feed him better!" Mother placed another squash in the basket and we headed toward the kitchen. I asked what Dongsaeng and Father were doing in town, and Mother frowned. "You know that tax man who-"

From the vestibule came Father's voice. "I'll hear no more on this. My mind is made up." Mother's face closed somewhat. She told me to help Cook make lunch and to say nothing about the Bennetts. "I'll tell him myself after he's eaten and not so ..." She waved me to the kitchen.

Later when I unpacked, a large and perfect scallop sh.e.l.l from the beach, bleached by nature, fell from Dongsaeng's unfinished winter coat. I tucked the sh.e.l.l in my waistband and went to his study, keenly feeling my sisterly obligation toward him, particularly since I'd overheard those few terse words of Father's. Remembering Father's eagerness to have me married at age fourteen, I wondered if a wife would soon be found for Dongsaeng, which would force him to accept responsibilities as master of the household. He was still a boy! How could he feed a family and take care of our parents?

In the breezeless sultry afternoon Dongsaeng sat at his desk in an old shirt and school trousers, swirling an inkstick in jerky uneven circles on his inkstone. He didn't acknowledge my scratch at the door. "I'm going to the graves," I said. "Come with me?"

"Too hot."

"Later?"

"Maybe."

I gave him the sh.e.l.l. "From the beach. See its symmetry?"

He barely looked when I set it at his elbow.

I sat beside his desk and said, "I have something to tell you."

"I heard already from Abbuh-nim." He rudely splashed water on the inkstone, and I resisted the urge to caution him against spilling.

"Dongsaeng, I worry-"

"Everybody's worried about me! Why can't you leave me alone!" He threw the inkstick, spattering black on his desktop.

Quickly blotting the mess, I used my gentlest schoolteacher voice to say, "Yah, what is it?"

"At least you're escaping from this prison!" He rose and thumped his hands.

"I know it's hard to live up to Father's expectations, but you must try."

"It's impossible!" His narrowed eyes pooled and reddened.

"Did something happen?"

"I sold a scroll! You'd think he'd be proud, but he was furious. At least I'm trying to keep my pockets filled!"

"Art for money makes tainted art."

"Yes, yes, I know-loss of creative purity, innocence of expression-all that c.r.a.p!"

"You know he thinks it belittles your talent to work for profit."

"What else is it for then? To sit in my study and read newspapers and study cla.s.sics for the rest of my life? That's what it's for? I don't want his life!" His voice sc.r.a.ped and broke.

I stood to allow him to compose himself. "Let's go to the graves before they hear you."

"Who cares who hears? My life was ruined before I was born."

"Fresh air is better than sitting around making a mess in your studio."

He shrugged, rubbed his face and followed me to get his shoes. Going through the garden, I grabbed a straw hat, a hand scythe and an empty bucket. Ilsun plucked a cuc.u.mber and munched it noisily. He scuffled his sandals on the courtyard flagstones, and though irritated with his unruliness, I said nothing.

Tall waving branches shaded the steep path that circled the bamboo woods, and I walked faster in its coolness, eager to be out of sight of the house. "Slow down. I don't want to sweat," he said behind me.

By the time we reached the stone steps, we were both climbing slowly. We paused at a break in the trees to look down at Gaeseong. To the far west on a hill, I could just make out the steeple of the Methodist church. I looked south to see if I could find Reverend Bennett's new church, but a haze obscured it. I wondered how American cities looked from above, doubting that any valley could be as enchanting as the one below. Dongsaeng pointed out the plain low buildings of his school and said he could make out his favorite restaurant farther off. "They told you, didn't they?" he said.

"What?" I wanted him to talk, knowing how talking often helped to understand things differently.

"That I flunked all my cla.s.ses."

"Yes." I knew it was pointless to scold him. "Umma-nim says they weren't feeding you well."

He laughed. "They didn't. But that's not really it. Everyone was mean! Hitting and hollering, making us march around for nothing, shouting slogans and waving flags, and n.o.body cared about my calligraphy. After all that work with the cla.s.sics and all those d.a.m.ned hours painting, none of it matters. What's the point? I can't earn anything if I can't sell my work. Why bother?"

Poor Dongsaeng! Caught between two worlds, like Jaeyun and her doctor. But his obvious lack of respect for Father wasn't acceptable. "You know it's Abbuh-nim's way, and one that's been correct for hundreds of years. You can't expect him to change. Instead, you have to find a way to live two lives." As soon as I said this, I realized, disturbed, that I was advising my brother to live a duplicitous life, an idea that had obviously come from my own life. "I don't mean that. I mean you have to find a way to adapt to how things are."

"But things are impossible, and now he wants to find me a wife!"

"You still like going out to eat, don't you? And cinemas? Is that why you never have enough money?"

He didn't answer, and I guessed that he still visited teahouses. "Perhaps if you obey and study hard, Abbuh-nim will allow you to have some say in your marriage. There are some things he can't stop from changing." I heard my insolence and felt ashamed, but I wanted to encourage my brother. "I never thought he'd acquiesce for me, but you see that he did. You never really know what might happen."

He spat. "I doubt it. He told me today that he's been looking for years years for a suitable wife, and also that tired story about how his brother refused to obey him." for a suitable wife, and also that tired story about how his brother refused to obey him."

"See how deeply he's concerned about your welfare?"

"Not my my welfare! The family name!" He kicked a loose piece of shale down the steps. welfare! The family name!" He kicked a loose piece of shale down the steps.

"It's both, Dongsaeng. You're his favorite-his heir. Of course you know that." I ignored his pout and sing-songed a familiar refrain from our childhood years, "Remember the story of when you were born?"

He didn't answer, but he seemed to soften.

"I hid outside Mother's room and saw him carrying you for the first time. In the lamplight his face glowed when he looked at you. I've never seen it so lit up."