Sail Away with Me Page 16

  “No, that’s perfect. It’s not a big deal, just a time to appreciate each other.”

  Yet they closed Dreamspinner on a Friday night, when it would normally be open. To him, that suggested the holiday was kind of a big deal.

  “Besides,” she went on, “it’s nice to have a celebratory dinner midway between Canadian Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  As Iris directed him to her parents’ house, he discovered it was in the outskirts of Blue Moon Harbor village, within walking distance of the bookstore. “Your family no longer has the farm you told me about?”

  “No. Dad and Aunt Lily grew up there, but neither wanted to farm. Mom and Dad bought this house and Aunt Lily bought a condo. When Grandfather Harry died, Grandmother Rose was alone at the farm. When she was diagnosed with ALS, she moved in with my parents and me. There was no point to keeping the farm.”

  In this neighborhood, each home had a distinct character. The Yakimura one was smallish and attractive with simple lines, wooden walls stained grayish-green, and cream-colored trim. The front yard didn’t have a lawn like most of the neighbors’ houses. Instead, the ground was bark-chipped and planted with grasses, colored-leaf shrubs, and late autumn flowers. Unlike several of the neighbors’ houses, this one had no holiday decorations.

  “Nice place,” he commented as he parked at the curb. “I remember you saying that the garden is your mom’s special thing, like Windspinner is your dad’s.”

  “Yes. Nature is highly valued in Japanese culture.”

  “Your family likes to incorporate elements of Japanese culture into your Western life?”

  She nodded. “We appreciate having two heritages. We can draw the best from both worlds. For example, we’re all fluent in Japanese and in French, and speak both when we’re alone together.”

  “There aren’t too many Western Canadians who speak French fluently.”

  “No, but after the Official Languages Act was passed in 1969, my grandparents believed that good Canadians should speak both.”

  Good Canadians. She’d told him about how the government had interned her ancestors because of their connection to Japan, even though they’d been loyal, hardworking citizens. He wondered if the Yakimuras’ desire to be “good Canadians” might contribute to the shyness factor. If you were concerned about being judged, perhaps it fostered timidity.

  “By the way,” he said, “I did some research online on Japanese-Canadian history, and wondered if you had a book in the store that gives a more complete story.”

  “I own a couple of books I’d be happy to loan you. But, Julian, why are you interested?”

  Wasn’t that obvious? “Because that’s part of who you are. I want to understand what your family and other Japanese Canadians have gone through.”

  “If you’re sure. When you drive me home, remind me to give them to you.”

  “Thanks.” He climbed out and went around to open her door, and take the orchid plant from her. She accepted his hand to assist her in getting out, but then let go, saying, “Let’s avoid PDAs. I’ve told my family we’re friends.”

  She’d picked now to tell him he couldn’t even hold her hand? He was about to ask for clarification, but the front door of the house opened to reveal a slender Asian man in dark brown pants, a tan shirt, and a brown cardigan. Having lost his opportunity, Julian muttered, “Got it.”

  He took the wine bottle from the back seat, and Iris collected a Dreamspinner bag with something in it. Then, side by side as the older man watched, they walked along the path and up the steps.

  “Hello, Daughter.” Mr. Yakimura extended his hand. “Welcome to our home, Julian.”

  Julian shook his hand. “Thank you for inviting me, sir.” The sir slipped out without thought. “Especially on Labor Thanksgiving Day.”

  A petite Asian woman dressed in green and gold—a long, patterned skirt, a simple green top, and a gold necklace and earrings—stepped up beside Mr. Yakimura. Her face was rounder than Iris’s and her sleek black hair was coiled up and decorated with a dragonfly pin. “We’re always happy to have a friend of Iris’s at our home, and to share our celebration,” she said. “Welcome, Julian. I’m Akemi and my husband is Ken.”

  Iris’s parents must be in their fifties, but neither one’s black hair showed any gray, and their faces were virtually unlined.

  Julian offered the orchid to Iris’s mom. “I appreciate the welcome.”

  “Ah,” she said, smiling as she took it. “How lovely. You’re most kind. Please come in.”

  Julian handed Ken the wine and Iris gave her dad her tote bag, murmuring, “Here’s dessert.” Then Julian and Iris followed her mother to a sitting room with furniture made of rattan with bamboo-patterned cushions. A bookcase lined one wall, plants flourished, and three watercolors of island scenery were artfully displayed. A glass-topped coffee table held a tray of sushi, small ceramic bowls, chopsticks, a teapot and cups, napkins, and an orchid plant with purple and white blossoms. Akemi whisked the purple orchid away and replaced it with the green one, saying, “That’s much nicer.”

  At least it seemed everyone was going to be polite.

  Ken returned, empty-handed, along with another middle-aged woman. Julian saw the family resemblance among her, Iris, and Ken, in their reed-like slimness and fine features. She wore tan pants and a stunning, peach-colored blouse with a flower pattern. “You must be Iris’s aunt Lily,” he said, smiling.

  “And you are Julian Blake.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his.

  “I’m pleased to meet you. You’re a talented artist. That blouse is beautiful.”

  Her lashes flicked up as she darted him a surprised look. “Why, thank you. How did you know I made it?”

  “I recognize your art from some things Iris has worn. Like tonight’s blouse.” Under a dark green cardigan, Iris wore a blouse with a pattern of spring blossoms.

  “Why are we standing?” Akemi said briskly, and Julian remembered that Iris had said her mom was, unlike the rest of the Yakimuras, an extrovert. “Please, sit, be comfortable. Julian, Iris assured me you like sushi. I hope that’s true.”

  “Yes, I do.” He chose a seat on one of the couches. “This looks delicious, but almost too pretty to eat.” Sesame-seed-coated rice rolls containing orange and green ingredients, dark green cones of sushi, and curls of pickled ginger were artistically arranged on a pale green platter.

  After the others had seated themselves—Iris beside him but several inches away—and Akemi had poured tea, he realized everyone was waiting for him to start in on the sushi. Using chopsticks, he mixed soy sauce and wasabi in one of the little bowls, then chose a colorful roll, dipped it, and ate it. When he’d given his sincere compliments, the others served themselves.

  “How is your father recovering after that horrible accident?” Akemi asked.

  “It’s a slow and painful process,” Julian said. “Forbes is impatient, but he’s doing his physical therapy and he’s determined to play at my stepbrother Luke’s wedding, just after Christmas.”

  “I’m glad to hear he’s coming along,” she said. “I notice you call your father Forbes.”

  “Always have. I guess it was a hippie thing. And after my mother left, he and I . . . well, of course he was my dad, but we were kind of like two buddies hanging out.” He sipped tea. Though he was more of a coffee drinker, this fragrant, herb-scented beverage suited the sushi.

  “Surely it’s a parent’s job to be a parent,” Ken said quietly, his tone so nonjudgmental that Julian knew he was working at it. “To teach and guide, so his child understands the rules of the world and how to behave in it.”

  “Forbes Blake is a different man from you, my dear,” his wife said. “He’s a good man and a creative one, but I would say he walks to the beat of his own drum. Or is it drummer?”

  “The original is from Thoreau,” Iris said. “It’s that he hears a different drummer. As I recall, Thoreau goes on to say that he must follow that beat.”

  “Provided it do
esn’t lead him to harm anyone, or to harm nature,” her aunt Lily said. Her gaze was on her niece and she’d yet to meet Julian’s eyes. “And certainly Forbes is a peaceful man who respects others and the environment.”

  “As does Julian,” Iris said. “His upbringing may have been unconventional, but you only have to listen to his music to know he has strong values.”

  He smiled, appreciating her support even if it embarrassed him to have her defend him.

  “And he has—” her mother started, and then she turned to Julian. “Forgive me for speaking as if you’re not in the room. You have achieved success in a challenging field.” She glanced at her husband and then back to Julian. “We looked you up on the Internet. It’s quite a life you lead. An exciting life compared to ours here in Blue Moon Harbor.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” Although the woman’s tone was neutral, Julian was pretty sure his wasn’t a lifestyle she admired.

  “You put aside this exciting life for several months,” she went on, her gaze on the sushi cone she was picking up, “to look after your father and help out your stepmother.”

  “Yes.”

  “Until Forbes’s accident, you rarely visited Destiny Island.”

  It was a statement of fact but felt like a judgment. “That’s also true.” He wanted to leave it at that, but if he had any hope of winning Iris’s family’s approval, he had to be more forthcoming. “When I lived here as a kid, I was unhappy. The island has some bad associations for me. It’s always been easier to stay away.”

  Beside him, Iris nodded encouragingly. She would assume he was talking about the family issues he and Luke had discussed.

  Akemi turned her gaze on him, and this time when she spoke her voice was gentle. “I’m sorry to hear that. Childhood wounds can cut deep and leave scars.”

  Somehow, her understanding made him want to go on. “Yes. I keep hoping the wounds have healed, but each time I come back to the island it’s like ripping off scabs.”

  Iris spoke quietly. “Maybe some wounds never heal completely.”

  He turned to her. “I think that’s true.” His voice grated. His deepest wound never would, not as long as Jelinek was alive and quite possibly abusing another victim. Nausea rose in his gut and he took deep breaths, forcing it down.

  Iris’s eyes were soft with concern. “We need to accept the wounds as part of ourselves,” she said. “And look for positive aspects.”

  Appreciating that she was trying to help, he said, “Hmm, maybe so.” There was no positive aspect to his cowardice. But perhaps the abuse itself had fueled the power of his music, given it the depth and perceptiveness that spoke to so many people.

  As they’d been talking, the five of them had almost polished off the sushi. Akemi rose. “Please excuse me. I will put the finishing touches on dinner.”

  Lily got to her feet, too. “I’ll help.”

  When the two women had left the room, Ken spent an inordinate amount of time preparing a piece of sushi for himself. Was his silence due to shyness, or was he formulating another tough question or comment?

  Julian seized the initiative. “Ken, it’s great what you’ve done with Dreamspinner. Tell me how you decided to open a bookstore.”

  His choice of topic was a fortunate one. The man’s enthusiasm, and Julian’s interest, made Iris’s dad almost verbose.

  Akemi appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is on the table and I’ve opened the wine.”

  They all rose and followed her to the dining room, where Lily was fussing with the arrangement of platters and bowls of steaming, aromatic food. There were a couple of stir-fries, a tureen of something that looked like yellow curry, and a big bowl of rice.

  “Julian, please sit here, beside Iris,” Akemi said. “We are shifting from Japanese food to Thai for the main course. In Japan there’s no traditional dinner for Labor Thanksgiving Day, not like turkey for our Canadian Thanksgiving. Each year we choose a different country’s cuisine.”

  “It looks and smells wonderful.”

  When they were all seated, he was beside Iris, with Lily across from them. Iris’s mother was to his right, at one end of the table. Her father sat at the other end, to Iris’s left.

  “On this special day,” Akemi said, “before we eat, we take a moment to thank each other for the work we do. I will start. I thank my family for their contributions to this household and for continuing to make Dreamspinner what I like to think is the heart of Blue Moon Harbor. I thank Julian for providing support to his father and stepmother, and for the music he brings into the world.”

  Her husband and sister-in-law went next, and then Iris, all of them giving similar thanks in simple words.

  When it was Julian’s turn, he said, “I thank the Yakimura family for creating a store that provides education and entertainment for Destiny Islanders. I thank Ken and Akemi for their hospitality tonight. I thank Lily for creating beauty in the world. And I thank Iris for her wisdom and generosity. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

  Akemi gave a nod of approval, and then said briskly, “Time for dinner. Julian, we eat family style, so each person may choose exactly what he or she wishes. Please help yourself.”

  They all served themselves and he tasted everything, finding the food as good as anything he’d had in a restaurant. After he passed on his compliments, Akemi asked him about his music and his life as a musician. As he talked, Iris chimed in, and occasionally the more reserved Ken and Lily interjected a comment or question. Clearly, her family wanted to get to know him.

  He weighed each response, being honest without sharing the more unsavory details.

  He was very aware of Iris, at his side yet a foot away. She said things that subtly encouraged and supported him, but her body language reinforced the no-PDA request she’d made. So he resisted the temptation to touch her arm or rest his hand on her thigh.

  Over the scrumptious apple pie Iris had made for dessert, he managed to shift the conversation, asking about Yakimura family history both on Destiny and in Japan. He learned how badly Iris’s parents wanted her to visit Japan, to see the country and spend time with relatives. They were too polite to say And to find a more suitable husband than you, but he sensed they were thinking it. He wasn’t convinced they bought Iris’s “just friends” message.

  * * *

  Iris breathed in the crisp air tinged with a whiff of wood smoke and then let her breath sigh out slowly, relaxing as she and Julian walked side by side—but not hand in hand—away from her family home.

  When he opened the door of the van for her, she waved to her parents, who stood on the porch. They remained there despite the brisk November air, until Julian pulled away from the curb.

  A tape was playing, Bob Dylan’s distinctive voice singing “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” but for once she didn’t feel like listening to music so she clicked it off. “Whew.” She let out another sigh, releasing more tension. “I think that went as well as it possibly could.”

  “Everyone was polite,” he said, “but I didn’t get a read on what they thought of me.”

  “Ah, that inscrutable Japanese thing,” she joked.

  “Sorry, was I stereotyping? I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, you’re right, my family is restrained rather than expressive. I’ve become good at translating.” Finally, she allowed herself to touch him, resting her hand on his warm thigh, which felt unfamiliar in wool pants rather than his usual jeans.

  At a stop sign, he gave her hand a squeeze and smiled at her. “Dare I ask?” He made a left turn, heading toward the main road.

  “Okay, here’s how things stood before they met you. The fact that you’re Forbes’s son and Sonia’s stepson carries weight. Family is important to my parents and they respect Forbes and Sonia. That’s counteracted by the fact that you’re a musician, and not the classical symphony kind. When they Google you, they find pages of search results, including photos at flashy clubs, and of you with loads of women . . . well, you get the
picture.”

  “Mm.”

  “The fact that you’re my friend has both positive and negative features. It does mean you have excellent taste.”

  Watching his profile, she saw his grin. “Can’t argue with that,” he said. “What’s the negative side?”

  “Despite my many wonderful attributes, they wonder why you want to be my friend. I’m not the sort of person you normally spend time with. You’re worldly and experienced and I’m far less so, so they worry that you may be trying to take advantage of me in some way.”

  He frowned and glanced at her. “You know that’s not true.”

  “I do.” Realizing he’d stopped the van, she said, “You probably want to get home. After all, you have the Nelsons’ anniversary party tomorrow night.”

  Was that a grimace? Yet he said, “No, it’s still early. I’d like to spend some time alone with you. But then, when your aunt drives back to the condo, she’ll know you’re with me.”

  That did trouble Iris. But being with Julian outweighed the concern. “She’ll go to bed and not know when I come in. I’ll say we talked for a while before you dropped me off. It’s true.”

  “You don’t like to lie outright,” he commented as he pulled back onto the road. “But you’re selective about what you say.”

  “Lying is disrespectful. But full disclosure isn’t always necessary.” Reflecting on the evening’s conversation, she pointed out, “You find a similar balance.”

  “Another thing we have in common,” he said dryly. “But let’s get back to what you were saying. How do you think your family feels about me now?”

  “They’re reassured that you’re not some drug-addled rock star or egotistical jerk celebrity, and—”

  “Now who’s stereotyping?” he teased.

  She didn’t deny it. “My family has no experience with people in your line of work. Island musicians like Forbes are as close as they’ve come, which is far different from a musician who’s achieved national, even international acclaim. Anyhow, the way to shatter stereotypes is for prejudiced people to meet individual members of the stereotyped group, don’t you think?”