The American troops started removing the food by the truckload. Claire and Emi were about to leave since they saw there was no translation needed. Theft seemed to be understood in every language.
“Wait!” one of the American soldiers called to Emi when she was a few yards away. He brought her a bag, heavy with provisions, and told her they’d be looking for her again. “A Jap . . . a Japanese girl who speaks English and German. You should work for us,” he said, helping her steady the cloth bag on her thin arms.
I’ll never work for you, she thought, holding the food tight to her chest and thanking him.
*
Emi and her parents had spoken by phone in September, with the help of the Swiss delegation, and they had decided that it would be best for Emi to stay in Karuizawa until there was a home for her to come back to. They were living in a very small government-provided apartment that survived the bombing and fire. Because there wasn’t much of Tokyo left, they decided Emi would be happier with the Moris.
They promised to write, to call if they could, and Emi smiled at the prospect of letters. The small pieces of paper that had held her together for so many years—finally, they would be hers again.
She received a thick envelope from her father in November, when the leaves of Karuizawa turned to blazing colors. She supposed they had looked like that every year, but she didn’t notice such things in 1944. Now she could finally look up.
When she reached the lake, she sat on a rock, surprised to see the silver tail of a fish right below the surface of the clear water. How strange, she thought, to not have to dive in to get it. Jiro was getting much stronger with the help of the Americans and their food, no longer confined to his futon, and even Ayumi’s daughter had started school again, having missed an entire year. And somehow, Emi had become a person who enjoyed the countryside.
She pulled out the letter. She expected to see her father’s large handwriting, but instead, the letter was in English, and it wasn’t addressed to her, but to her father, Norio Kato.
Dear Mr. Kato,
I am holding my breath that this letter arrives to you safely as I have addressed it to the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs rather than your home address. In March, we heard about the terrible bombing of Tokyo, one of many it seems, and have prayed daily for your and your family’s safety. I am hoping that no news is good news and that you have all survived the war, as we have, thanks to your incredible kindness. For the rest of our lives, we will be so very thankful for your aid in helping us flee Vienna.
I know from Leo’s attempts to communicate with Emi that the mail system hasn’t been kind to them, but I’m hoping, now that the war is over, that our letters will reach each other.
Though we are ready to leave China, we will be remaining in Shanghai until we have passage on a boat to the United States. We don’t plan on staying forever—Leo is adamant about eventually returning to Austria—but for now, it is the safest option, we’ve been told.
Of all of us, I never would have thought that Leo would be the one to almost lose his life during these difficult times, but such was the case. In 1943, he engaged in a fight with a German officer and was hospitalized for a month. He still has limited lung capacity and has lost sight entirely in his right eye. I know that compared to other families, our loss is insignificant, but it was a very trying time for us.
A woman he had become acquainted with through his work in Shanghai, a German girl named Agatha Huber, nursed Leo back to health. Much to our surprise (and I think to his, too), they became romantically involved. They were married recently and are expecting a baby in November. I hope Emi will forgive Leo for not writing to tell her himself, but I think writing that letter would have broken him. I don’t doubt that he still very much loves your daughter, but he does love Agatha, too, and I believe they will be happy together.
The war turned the world upside down for Leo, but I know Emi’s guiding hand, as his first love, his best friend in Vienna, will always be with him. Please give her our best and send us your news when you are able to. I have enclosed the address of an establishment called Liwei’s. It is best to send letters there, as there is at least a chance over zero that we will receive them.
May God be with you,
Max Hartmann
Emi held the letter so tightly that she ripped the edge of the paper. Leo was alive. He was alive, but he had been severely injured. Emi thought of his beautiful green eyes and closed her own. She wanted to dwell on the pain he’d endured, about how he’d fought a German officer to the point of being hospitalized for a month. He, who was so skilled at letting the hate, the abuse, not affect him. But instead, all she could focus on was that Leo was marrying someone else, and having a baby with her that very month. She had lost Leo years ago, she knew that. But she never thought it would end this way, with him married, a father.
She folded the piece of paper, put it back in the envelope, and walked toward town. The letter from Leo that she’d been so desperate for, for so many years, had just put out the remaining lights of her childhood, extinguishing the Emi Kato that had existed before the war. Somehow, it was time for her to discover someone new.
*
By 1946, Emi had been to Tokyo and back, had seen the ash and debris that had once been her house, and had returned to Karuizawa to make herself as useful as she could be, without working for the Americans. They had approached her again, but she had agreed to volunteer in the medical clinic instead, returning to her white uniform, just as she had worn daily in Crystal City.
She still thought of Leo often. He hadn’t waited for “what might have been” but had just forged on with his life instead. She didn’t know if she was angry with him or angry at herself, but she knew that she needed that anger to diminish and that keeping busy helped.
When she was in America, she had gone on. She had found Christian. But now, even he, lost somewhere in the world, felt very long ago.
So instead of love, memories, or the past to keep her company, Emi threw herself into her present. Japan didn’t need scared girls playing the piano or stealing food anymore; it needed to be pieced back together. So that’s what Emi did, everything she’d been taught in Texas, by the underpaid doctors, coming back to her in time.
“I told you this town is better when there’s no war,” said Claire one evening when she was picking up Emi after work. “It’s starting to feel like it used to,” she said. “You should think about staying, even after your parents’ house is rebuilt. You’re what, twenty-four now? Maybe it’s time you didn’t share a roof with Kato-san. Or the Moris,” she added.
“You may have a point,” said Emi, linking her arm with Claire’s.
When they got to the Mampei Hotel, which had slowly become a regular hotel again, instead of a makeshift group embassy, Ayumi was waiting out front. She waved excitedly to them both, a piece of paper in her hand.