When the Cherry Blossoms Fell by Jennifer Maruno Read Free Book Online Page A

of cold cream. Eiko got recipes and advice, and Michiko always got something to read. Her favourite gift was thetattered gold embossed book
Fifty Famous Fairy Tales
.
    Mrs. Morrison taught them how to keep the reservoir on the stove full of hot water for washing faces and hands. She showed them how to place the oval copper pot with handles over two stove lids to boil water, and put bricks in the warming oven to take to bed at night.
    She let Geechan teach her how to use chopsticks, and to count to ten in Japanese.
    The same man that picked them up at the station dropped her off at the top of the road on his way out of town. He never drove into the farmhouse lane, and he never got out of the cab.
    â€œWould you like to invite your husband in for a cup of tea?” Michiko’s mother asked.
    â€œI would indeed,” Mrs. Morrison replied, “but he is too far away to do that. My husband is with the troops. That’s Bert, the farmer down the road, who brings me here.”
    â€œIt seems we are alike,” her mother murmured, “both waiting for our husbands to return.”
    Hearing the long, low sound of the locomotive passing by, Mrs. Morrison glanced at the slim gold watch embedded in her pudgy pink wrist. “Well,” she announced, “school’s out.”
    At the word “school”, Michiko lifted her head. “I wish I was in school,” she murmured.
    â€œYou
should
be in to school,” Mrs. Morrison said. She peered over her little round gold spectacles at the little girl across the table from her. “Why aren’t you?”
    Sadie laughed. “She has to be the only child I know who would rather go to school than be on holiday.”
    â€œSchool holidays don’t start for a while yet,” Mrs. Morrison said. “She shouldn’t be missing her studies.”
    â€œI didn’t know if she would be welcome,” Eiko said quietly.
    Mrs. Morrison contemplated this until a honk came from the road where the green pick-up truck waited. “I’ll look into getting you into school,” she told Michiko. She clutched her purse to her chest and marched out the door. “Let you know next week.”
    Michiko hung her head. She hadn’t meant that she wanted to go to school here. She meant that she wanted to go to her old school.
    Her mother put a finger under her chin and raised it. “What is wrong now?”
    â€œI want to go to school at home,” Michiko cried and stamped her foot. “I don’t want to be here one more day.”
    â€œA day is only a day,” her mother said. “Even the most important days of all come and go.”
    â€œLike what?” Michiko demanded, tired of this vacation.
    Her mother walked to the window ledge and lifted down a small rectangular parcel. She placed it on the table and untied its brightly coloured silk. “Look,” she said, lifting the bamboo lid. “This whole box is full of important days.”
    Inside was a collection of papers and photographs.
    Eiko sifted through the layers and handed Michiko a thick card with ruffled edges. “Here is an important day,” she said. It was a black and white photograph.
    Michiko hadn’t seen this photograph before. The woman staring straight ahead was wearing a white kimonoand a boat-shaped headdress. The man next to her was all in black. He wore a long loose jacket over his kimono.
    â€œThis is a traditional Japanese wedding,” her mother said. “Do you see the white embroidered crest on his
haori?”
Michiko nodded. “That is my family crest. The bride wears a
shiromuku
. Do you know who they are?”
    Michiko shook her head.
    â€œThis is my
baachan
and
geechan.”
Her mother stroked the faces of the bride and groom. “When my grandfather was a young man, he left Japan to see the world.”
    â€œDid he come to Canada?”
    â€œHe took a steamship across the Pacific Ocean to the United