The Fukudas’ flower and houseplant nursery was in the phone book, and every so often Alma would check that the address remained the same, but she never gave in to the temptation to call Ichimei. It had cost her a lot to recover from her frustrated love, and she was afraid that if she heard his voice even for an instant she would drown in the same blind passion as before. In the years since then, her senses had gone to sleep; together with overcoming her obsession with Ichimei, she had transferred to her paintbrushes the sensuality she had experienced with him and never had with Nathaniel. This changed at her father-in-law’s second funeral, when among the huge crowd she made out Ichimei’s unmistakable face. He looked just the same as the young man she remembered. Ichimei followed the cortege accompanied by three women, two of whom Alma vaguely recognized even though she had not seen them in many years, and a young woman who stood out because she was not dressed in strict mourning like everyone else. Their small group stayed apart from the others, but once the ceremony was over and people began to disperse, Alma slipped out of Nathaniel’s arm and followed them to the avenue, where the cars were lined up. When she called out to Ichimei, all four of them came back toward her.
“Mrs. Belasco,” Ichimei greeted her, bowing formally.
“Ichimei,” she answered, paralyzed.
“This is my mother, Heideko Fukuda; my sister, Megumi Anderson; and my wife, Delphine,” he said.
The three women bowed. Alma could feel her stomach churn and a choking sensation in her chest as she openly examined Delphine. Fortunately the other woman did not notice, as she kept her eyes fixed on the ground as a sign of respect. She was young, pretty, and fresh looking, not wearing fashionable heavy makeup, and dressed in a pearl-gray suit with a short skirt and round pillbox hat in Jackie Kennedy’s style, and with the same hairstyle as the First Lady. Her outfit was so American that her Asian face seemed incongruous.
“Thank you for coming,” Alma managed to blurt out when she was able to breathe once more.
“Isaac Belasco was our benefactor; we shall always be grateful to him. It was thanks to him we could return to California. He financed our nursery and helped us succeed,” said Megumi sadly.
Alma had already been told as much by Nathaniel and Ichimei, but the Fukuda family’s solemn gratitude reinforced her certainty that her father-in-law must have been an exceptional man. She loved him more than she would have loved her own father if the war had not robbed her of him. Isaac Belasco was the opposite of Baruj Mendel—he was kind, tolerant, and always ready to give. She was suddenly struck by the pain of losing him, something she had not truly felt until that moment as she had been going around stunned like the entire Belasco family. Tears welled in her eyes, but she choked them back as well as the sobs that had been fighting to find a way out for days now. She realized Delphine was now examining her as closely as she had done in reverse a few minutes earlier. Alma thought she saw in her clear eyes an expression of knowing curiosity, as if she knew exactly what role she had played in Ichimei’s past. She felt exposed and slightly ridiculous.
“Our sincere condolences, Mrs. Belasco,” said Ichimei as he took his mother’s arm to move away.
“Alma. I’m still Alma,” she murmured.