“There is an American soldier looking for you,” she said to Emi.
“An American soldier?” said Emi with a frown. “I’ve said so many times already that I have no interest working for them.”
“I don’t think it’s one of them,” said Ayumi, who was finally, like all the women, wearing something other than monpe. “This one, I haven’t seen him here before.” She put the letter she was holding in Emi’s hand and said, “He gave me this to give to you. I insisted that I knew you, that I would get it to you.”
Emi looked down at the letter. It had been sent by her father, but addressed to her in Crystal City.
“What was his name?” she said, her heart sprinting ahead of her tongue. “Ayumi,” she said grabbing her arm. “Did he tell you?”
“Christian Lange,” Ayumi said smiling, as Emi’s expression changed to elation. “Does that mean something to you?”
“To say the least,” said Emi, not able to hold back her tears.
“If he means that much to you,” said Ayumi, “then I might as well tell you that he said he’d wait for you—for the next year if he had to. I don’t know where he went exactly, but I suggested he head to Hatsue Saga’s tea shop. Now that they have tea again.”
Emi dried her face and ran off, stopping halfway to the ginza when she realized that she hadn’t even read the letter. It had certainly never reached her in Crystal City. She turned the envelope around to remove the paper and noticed that something had been written on the back of the envelope in English:
You sounded very much in love in your last letter, Emiko-chan. And I will never be the one to criticize you falling for an American. I am, after all, the one who brought you there. Despite the geography of Japan, the world is not an island.
Since you asked in your last letter, I’m still doing just fine, though the house is silent without you. It misses you very much, just like I do. I will write more soon, but I just wanted you to know that even the architecture is longing to see you.
She pulled out the actual letter, sure that she had never uttered a word about Christian to her father, and saw that it was much shorter. All it said was:
I’m still doing just fine, though the house is silent without you. It misses you very much, just like I do. I will write more soon, but I just wanted you to know that even the architecture is longing to see you.
Emi didn’t understand the discrepancy in translation, but she sensed that somehow, it had gotten Christian to Karuizawa. And looking at the return address, which was her father’s office, Norio Kato had now lent a hand.
She closed her eyes, clutching the letter tightly, completely overwhelmed by the fact that Christian was here. She had desperately wanted to see him alive, to see him two years older. Had his face changed? Had he been injured? How had he escaped Germany?
When Emi reached the ginza, she began to run in her nurse’s uniform, but she didn’t see him anywhere. She walked into Hatsue Saga’s tea shop, hoping he would be there, but it was almost empty. She was afraid that if she kept moving, she would miss him completely, so she took a seat at the window. She ordered a cup of tea and took her hair down so it looked the way it had in Crystal City.
After her tea was drained to just the torn leaves, a food delivery truck, which had been partially blocking her view since she sat down, drove off. She put her cup on the table and stared out the window, her body and face moving toward the cold glass.
There stood Christian Lange. Still arrestingly handsome, and alive.
He was standing across the road in an American military uniform, watching a group of older Japanese women sitting on the stairs of Evgeni’s shop, talking and laughing, as if the memories of war were already far behind them. Christian took a few steps forward, as if he intended to approach them, but stopped when he was still several feet back and kept observing them instead.
His blond hair was short, and he had an Army cap and a heavy black wool overcoat on, but he still looked like Christian Lange from Crystal City, the boy from the orchard. Emi savored watching him, knowing that in a few seconds, her life would transform again, this time into something much better. She would know why he was in an American military uniform, not a German one, and how he had gotten from Crystal City, Texas, to Karuizawa, Japan.
She stood, put her hand against the glass window, leaving a smudge, and thought of what she had said to him in Crystal City. “Please come and find me.” Somehow, the world had aligned itself just right—if only for a fleeting moment—and he had.
Maybe they would talk all afternoon and then part ways forever. Perhaps they would see one another each day that he was in Japan. Or maybe, years from now, they would still be seeing each other, in very different circumstances. Happier circumstances.
The future. Their future, together or apart, it existed. They’d survived when the world had tried so hard to keep them from living. Now, tomorrow, the days ahead; they were wonderful things to dream about. She ran her hands over her hair, took his letter from her pocket, and stepped out the door, a silver bell clanging auspiciously against the glass as she called his name.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
An enormous thank you to my editor, Sarah Cantin, whose patience and gift with the red pen shaped this book. I’m so lucky to have her and her dazzling brain on my side. Also at Atria, a huge thank you to president and publisher Judith Curr, Tory Lowy, Haley Weaver, Tom Pitoniak, Donna Cheng, and Mark LaFlaur.
Bridget Matzie, my brilliant agent, knew early on that this book idea was a perfect fit for me. Bridget, thank you for constantly being two steps ahead and always championing the right idea.
Elizabeth Ward served as my first-draft editor, and her polishing prowess was critical to getting this book from very rough to ready for print.
Many thanks to my PR gurus Gilda Squire, Simone Cooper, and Rockelle Henderson.
I am forever indebted to Kari-Lynn Rockefeller, who read each draft and quelled my numerous panic attacks with her mastery of research.
Sarah Hager championed this story every step of the way. Sarah, you are always on the right side of history and the world is lucky to have you in it.
My parents and brother continue to support me through love, food, and sage advice, while my ever-patient husband, Craig Fischer, gives me life with his unwavering love and encouragement.