Hiro whimpered. His lower lip protruded, his mouth opened wide, and he wailed.
“Oh my,” the woman said in surprise and moved back. “Oh my, my,” she repeated. “I guess everyone is a little out of sorts.”
The woman took Michiko’s mother by the elbow. “Come with me.” Michiko grabbed the carpetbag. “We’ve got a ride.”
A huge pile of duffle bags and trunks lay in the dirt beside the steps. Mrs. Morrison stepped around them to the green pick-up truck parked by the depot. A man in a dark flat cap slouched against the front bumper. He wore denim farm pants and a red plaid shirt. His neck was tanned deep brown, the same V-shape as his open shirt neck.
Sadie waved from the back of the truck. “Welcome to the Land of No,” she called out.
Mrs. Morrison hauled herself into the front seat. Eiko tried to hand Hiro to her, but he clung to her neck and wailed. Eiko walked to the back of the truck and passed him up to Sadie. Sadie gave him to Geechan, who sat perched on the edge of his suitcase. Their belongings formed a pile in the middle.
Sadie hauled Michiko up into the back of the truck.
“What did you call this place?” Michiko asked.
“The Land of No,” her aunt explained. “No streetcars, no buses and no cinemas.”
“There’s electricity and running water,” Eiko said. “That’s what’s important.”
They watched the train gather steam as it came to life again. The driving rods pushed the large black wheels out of the station, chugging uphill, then all went quiet.
The pick-up truck rocked and swayed along the dusty dirt road. Michiko rode standing with her back pressed against the cab as it climbed the steep mountain. They passed people from the train. All of them carried sacks on their back and suitcases in their hands. They made their way down a narrow rutted lane, between the trees.
“Where are they going?” Michiko asked.
“To their new homes in the woods,” her aunt replied, pointing up the lane.
Michiko swivelled her head. She couldn’t see any houses. All she saw was a huge hill, covered with pines. She looked straight up, to find the sky.
“There is no limit to looking upward,” Geechan told her when she lowered her eyes.
Michiko thought about living in the woods. “Do you think there are bears?” she asked him, but the wind swallowed her words. She turned quickly to her mother to ask again but didn’t; her mother’s face was like a mask.
They passed large wooden houses with railed verandahs. It seemed strange to see houses spaced so far apart, without fences. They passed green fields blooming with tall spikes of flowers that looked just like paintbrushes.
On they drove, past a small white wooden church with a bell tower and tiny cemetery. The truck lumbered over a narrow wooden bridge where a stream raced past banks of waving bluebells and daisies.
When the truck finally left the dirt road and turned onto a large winding lane, it sped up. The wooden sides of the truck rattled, and the floor shook. Michiko’s hat began to flap. Her mother covered Hiro’s face with his blanket. Then Michiko’s blue straw hat blew up, across the back of the truck and away on the wind.
Five
Be Grateful
The truck slowed to a crawl and turned off the main road, where a rusty red iron gate stood ajar. In dark carved letters, the sign on the corner post read NELSON. The road ahead dipped down and split. Michiko could see a long, low white building at the bottom with mountains looming behind. Battered board fences framed the fields on either side.
Mrs. Morrison waved her plump freckled arm out the window. “This is it.”
Their four-hour ride in the back of a truck had finally ended.
The man in the flat cap got out. He removed the pipe from between his brown stained teeth and used it to point at the old wooden farmhouse. At one time, the house had been dark green, but it hadn’t seen paint in years. A cluster of small stunted trees that reminded Michiko of old men stood close together down one side. Clumps of grey brush grew up and onto the long thin wooden verandah. The golden matted field reminded Michiko of the prize cow she had seen at the Exhibition.
Mrs. Morrison beckoned to Michiko, but she backed away. She did not like the sickly sweet smell of the loud woman with the cherry hat. She took Hiro, while Sadie helped Geechan down.
Michiko watched the driver and her mother talking. It was a good thing he spoke with her and not her grandfather, she thought. Most people had a hard time understanding him. He mixed his English words with Japanese. Michiko knew it was because Geechan was Issei, like her father. But her Mother, Aunt Sadie and Uncle Ted had all been born in Canada. They were Nisei.
Her mother removed a thick white envelope from her purse. She took out a paper and handed it to the driver. He read it, nodded and handed it back to her. Then she handed him the envelope. He removed his cap, placed it inside and put his cap back on his head. Then he got back behind the wheel beside Mrs. Morrison. He isn’t going to help us carry anything inside, Michiko thought.
“Thank you, Mrs. Morrison,” her mother called out with a wave. She nudged Michiko to wave as well, but she didn’t.
As they approached the house, two squirrels gossiping at the end of the verandah ran off. They mounted the long plank steps, and Geechan pushed open the wooden door. A tarnished metal lantern hung from a nail beside the frame. The clattering of their shoes echoed over the wooden floor.
They entered one large room on the ground floor. There weren’t any walls to divide the space into living room, dining room and kitchen. A set of stairs ran across the back, with a row of wooden pegs on the wall behind it. There was a sink and a counter. A large red-handled metal pump stood over the sink, with a washboard propped on its side against it.
Across from the counter was an ugly, black iron monster stove. Geechan carried Hiro to the stove and patted it. “Hee-ta,” he told Hiro, and together they peered into the large wooden box next to it, brimming with logs.
A small, square pine table sat on top of a patch of linoleum in the middle of the floor. There were four kitchen chairs, each one a different shape and colour. A corn broom stood in the corner next to a tin bucket. A thick strip of brown tape hung from the ceiling, matted with the bodies of flies. The entire place had a deep musty smell.
Michiko’s mother looked around and gave a small sigh. “So, this is our new home,” she said, removing the long pearl-tipped pin that fixed her hat to her head. Taking her hat off, she pushed the pin back into the brim and placed the hat on the table. She gave a weak smile.
“New?” Michiko retorted, looking around in surprise. “This isn’t new.” There wasn’t even a couch or stuffed chair. Where was she supposed to curl up and read?
Sadie fumbled with the window above the sink, attempting to open it. Spiderwebs filled the corners on the outside, and a fat bumblebee lay still in the corner inside the frame. She flicked it onto the floor with a look of disgust. “It’s nailed shut,” she complained. “This is so inaka.”
“You are right, Auntie Sadie,” Michiko said. She stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. “Why are we spending our vacation in this old place?”
Eiko placed her hands on Michiko’s shoulders and guided her to one of the wooden chairs. She pulled another out and placed it in front of her. Then she sat down and took both of Michiko’s hands. “We are very grateful for this house,” her mother told her in a low voice.
Michiko furrowed her brows. How could her mother be grateful for a house like this? It wasn’t anything like the one in the city.
She