But Emi had reason to hate the Nazis, and she was terrified that that hatred was all over her face.
“We must know who you are,” said one of the soldiers, his smile wide and friendly.
“Oh no,” said Emi, still in German, but trying to backpedal away from what she’d just said. “I only speak a little.” She picked up her suitcases and hurried away from the men as they called out for her to stop. Dragging the bags, she made it up the street and glanced behind her, relieved to see that they had not bothered to follow her. In Tokyo she hadn’t had to interact with any German soldiers. Why had her father not warned her that they were in Karuizawa? Did he not know?
A store, closer to the station on the main street, had just turned on a light and Emi headed straight there. She put her suitcases on the ground outside and turned the door handle, which was locked. She knocked on the glass door several times, pressing her face against it, now afraid that she would have to spend her first night in Karuizawa on a bench in the train station or on the street with German soldiers. After her fifth loud knock, a second light came on and a man stepped out from the back of the store and walked toward the door. Emi was surprised to see he was a foreigner.
“Konbanwa,” she said, greeting him when he opened the door.
“Konbanwa,” he said back, offering to help with her suitcases. He spoke quick, confident Japanese with only a trace of an accent, which Emi thought might be Russian or Polish, certainly Eastern European.
He moved his slender body aside and let her enter, and she explained that she was just in from Tokyo and looking for the Moris, who lived at number 1462. “They never came to fetch me at the station and there are no taxis now,” Emi concluded, apologizing for knocking at such an hour. “No taxis, but plenty of German soldiers walking the street,” she added.
“Yes, you will see many German SS here,” said the storekeeper. “So many that the notices printed in town are now written in both Japanese and German. For some in Karuizawa, it’s unsettling.”
“The Jews?” asked Emi, wondering if this man was Jewish.
He shrugged and didn’t give any more detail.
He put a cloth over his cash register and started wiping down the counter. “I know the Moris, of course,” he added, looking at Emi with red, tired eyes. “Their home is down a long dirt road a bit set aside from the others. It will be difficult for you to find on foot at night, especially with your luggage. All the roads in Karuizawa are dirt except for around the machi,” he said, referring to the shopping area. “I would take you, but I’m afraid I still have a lot of preparations to do in the shop for tomorrow. It’s Monday and that tends to be the only day we get business anymore.”
Emi nodded. Her gut was gurgling, implying that now was the right time to panic.
“But my wife can surely drive you,” he offered. “The children are sleeping. She can leave them.” He called out, using a word in a language Emi was unfamiliar with, and a young Japanese woman came out from behind a door to what Emi could now see was the stockroom.
“This is my wife, Ayumi,” the shopkeeper said, though he hadn’t introduced himself. He explained Emi’s predicament to his wife, a slight woman with a bit of a slope in her back, who smiled and nodded at Emi, telling her to follow her to their truck behind the shop.
“It’s just a short drive to the Moris,” Ayumi said as she helped Emi with her luggage. “I’m happy to take you. I’ve known them for many years; it’s probably time I did them a favor,” she said looking down at Emi’s large bags. “Besides, you would only make it a few steps with these. You must be coming from Tokyo.”
Emi nodded. “Mrs. Mori is my mother’s cousin,” she said, “but I’ve only met her once.”
“You’ll like her,” said Ayumi, starting the truck and pulling out onto the main road. “Both of them are very interesting, though I don’t see them in town much anymore. They are in ill health, I believe. I’m glad they’ll have some company now. They never did have children, did they?” She looked at Emi questioningly.
Emi shook her head, though she had no idea about the Moris’ family and her father hadn’t said a word about their health. Emi wondered if she was being called down to Karuizawa to play nursemaid. Unsettled, she managed to say, “Yes, it will be better for all of us.”
Emi looked out at the thickly clustered pine trees lining the dirt roads. Emi’s father had told her that many senior European diplomats had houses there that they passed to each other with the changing of the guard. What she hadn’t realized was how many of them had stayed in Japan despite the war.
“Is your husband European?” Emi asked Ayumi as they turned onto an even smaller road in the compact truck. Emi knew it was obvious that he was European; she just wanted Ayumi to be specific.
“He is, depending on your definition of European,” said Ayumi. “Evgeni is Russian. There are a few Russians in Karuizawa now, but nothing like the number of Germans. They are everywhere. You saw soldiers tonight, yes?” she asked.
Emi nodded and admitted that she had stupidly spoken German to them.
“There are many soldiers,” said Ayumi. “And you will see the Hitlerjugend, too. The Hitler youth. They parade down the street very proudly. They have matching brown shirts and coats and swing the Nazi flag like it’s an extension of their arms. You’ll see. But you, you speak German, you said?”
“I do,” said Emi, thinking for a moment about Kersten and the beginnings of the Hitlerjugend that she’d witnessed in Vienna. “I lived in Germany as a child and then in Austria when I was older.”
“The Germans have all the food. They even have their own bakery that makes dark bread,” said Ayumi. “It’s the color of mud, but it’s delicious. They gave me a loaf once in the store when I was working without Evgeni. If you befriend them, they might give you one, too. They have many things to eat and we have almost nothing.”
Emi stayed quiet for a few minutes as Ayumi detoured around several holes in the road, picturing Leo and what he would think of her if she took bread from a Nazi.
“Evgeni’s parents emigrated to Tokyo following the Russian Revolution,” Ayumi explained. “But after the earthquake in 1923 they went to Kobe, which is where Evgeni and I met. When the war broke out, we came here, and Evgeni opened the store.”
“I’ve lived many places and met all kinds of people,” said Emi. “Though I wanted to stay in Tokyo, I was happy to see a foreign face when your husband came to the door. It reminds me of the life I just left behind.”