Heirlooms, page 22
“I could also set up an Etsy shop for you,” Nick said. “And a way for people to order through your website.”
I tossed the confetti in my palm. “Why stop with weddings? I can do petals for baby showers. Daisies are for newborns, and wisteria is for sweet daughters. I know there’s one for sons, too . . .” I racked my brain. “I can look it up. I could offer it for graduations and for birthdays, for anniversaries and gender reveals. The opportunities are endless . . . and year-round.”
“You’re a genius.”
“I know.” I laughed. “Just kidding. Annika and I were telling that to each other earlier. You are the genius. Without your Internet marketing capabilities, this would never be possible. Without DJ’s petal plucking, I would never have had the idea. Without Grace’s encouragement, I wouldn’t have figured out what was holding me back. But I do believe . . . this is going to work! We are a team. Of. Geniuses!”
Our team of geniuses was about to gain an important addition. “Why do I feel so nervous?” I jiggled the Under the Sea Gelatin Salad in the fridge to make sure it was set. It was. But if I kept jiggling, it was going to have stretch marks. “I just want it to be a 100 percent easy-living, stress-free night for both of us.”
“Yes, please. No stress, just glam!” Grace patted the red swish she’d painted in her hair with temporary color and then touched the teal one she’d swished in mine. She wore her grandmother’s apron, the pretty cream one with garnet-and-pink flowers on it, trimmed in ruby. I wore Gran’s, the beautiful blue one, dotted with peach and baby-blue flowers.
“Justin and I both love you,” I said. “So we will like each other for sure. Also, I put together a Captain Obvious oldies playlist.”
She laughed. “What did you put on it?”
“‘Nevertheless, I’m in Love with You,’ ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love,’ and ‘Love You Madly.’ Cloaked among other songs, of course. Hopefully, Justin will pick up on it.”
“Subtle, subtle. I like your style.”
“So I’ve got this great wedding flower business underway, and I think you would make an awesome client.”
She laughed. It was wonderful to see her so happy.
Right on time, at 7 p.m., both men arrived, which was something of a stroke of luck given that Justin came via the ferry. We watched as they shook hands and walked up the drive together.
I squealed. Grace squealed. “Are we teenagers again?” I asked.
“Yes!”
We headed out the door to meet them partway and steer them to the outside barbecue area, which we’d decked out for the night with lights and flowers and a large flower bin filled with ice.
Grace hugged Justin and then brought him to me. “Cassidy? This is Justin. Justin, Cassidy. I’ve wanted you guys to meet each other for so long.”
“So good to meet you,” I said. Justin’s dark-brown hair was stylish, but what really made him handsome was the way he treated Grace—with love and with respect. His dark jeans and white shirt matched hers. I side-eyed her. Couple’s clothing? She grinned.
We sat down and Justin put a couple bottles of rosé in the ice-filled planter. I put the music on, and Elvis came on first, singing that he couldn’t help falling in love. Nick looked at me and winked. Good grief. I’d thought I had put that in the middle of the playlist, but when I’d hit random play, it chose that one first!
But maybe it was okay. I winked back and then headed into the kitchen to get the food. Grace came with me.
“I like Justin already,” I said.
“You hardly know him!”
“I see how he looks at you. I know you said he’s the right man. I remember your halmoni saying that your halaboji shared her heart’s fiber, and I see that with you and Justin.”
We’d set up a long sideboard, and I brought out the gelatin salad, the chicken croquettes that Mrs. Kim assured me had been a big hit, and a 7UP Bundt cake. Grace brought the galbi, kimchi, and banchan. The sun went down as we talked and talked and laughed.
“What do you do?” Justin asked Nick.
“I’m in Internet marketing. Big tech.”
“Aren’t all firms in Seattle tech firms?” Justin teased.
Nick looked up and laughed. “Seems that way, but not really. Lots of tech in Seattle. And biotech, which is what I’m working for, on the East Coast.”
Boston. I wished I’d never promised his dad that I wouldn’t bring it up until Nick did!
“What do you do?” Nick asked him.
“I’m a resident at Virginia Mason hospital,” he answered.
“Ah. You’re a doctor like Grace’s grandfather.” I turned toward Grace and then back to Justin. “Her halaboji must love you.”
“I hope he will,” Justin said. “I haven’t met him yet.”
“I haven’t been to visit him for a while . . . ,” Grace started and then stopped. “I don’t want to startle him,” she finally finished.
“Maybe time to visit him,” Justin said. “You don’t have to say anything startling.” I knew just by the tone of his voice that he knew everything about Mi-Ja, which made me very happy. If he was advocating for her, he was a good man.
She shook her head. “No way. He’ll ask about the bar exam, and there’s no way I would, or could, lie to him.”
“He might not have much time left,” Justin said softly. “I’m thinking, after what you’ve told me, maybe not.”
Grace nodded. “Yeah. There’s that.”
I cut a piece of Bundt cake for everyone, and as I did, I felt Nick’s hand on my shoulder. He spoke softly. “You okay?”
“I’m okay but thank you for asking.” I missed Gran. I missed the wrap-up chats we might have had if I’d only come home sooner.
When the sun went down, we started a fire and stayed up late talking and laughing until there was no way Justin was going to make the last ferry home.
“You got a place to stay?” Nick asked him.
“I can drive up and across the bridge,” Justin said.
“Nah, the bridge is an hour out of the way. You can crash at my place,” Nick offered. Justin looked pleased.
I didn’t look at Grace, nor she at me, but I knew we were both thrilled that they liked each other. They helped us bring everything indoors and load the dishwasher before leaving.
“I’m exhausted,” Grace said. “See you in the morning?”
I couldn’t share a thought that had been on my mind since dinner, after Justin had commented about Grace’s halaboji. Should I speak to her about it now? Or later?
Later. “For sure. Couldn’t have gone better.”
She went into the bathroom to take off her makeup, and I went upstairs to sit in the rocking chair in my bedroom and think about what to do.
I met the next day from the rocking chair, by the open window. Birdsong underwrote the earliest hour, trilling, “It’s time, it’s time, it’s time.” Goldfinches fluttered to and fro, chiding my inaction before flitting off to a new adventure.
After getting dressed, I headed downstairs. Grace was studying, of course. Fewer than four weeks until her test. “Knock, knock,” I said. “Want to get coffee?”
“I don’t think I can leave,” she said. “Even though I want to. My mind keeps wandering, and I’m still unmotivated.” She glanced up at me and didn’t glance away. “Uh-oh. I know that look.”
“What look?” She’d caught me.
She sighed.
“Coffee first.” I padded to the kitchen and made espresso in the Bialetti. I sucked down two bitter shots followed by a soothing half-and-half chaser and then returned to the living room. The flowers in front of the window played peekaboo in the wind. Now you see us—a puff of wind—now you don’t.
I’d been going to leave all decisions up to Grace—her life, her lead—but then I thought about my last minutes with Gran. I took a breath and dove in. “I think you need to visit your halaboji as soon as possible. You don’t want to leave it late, like I did,” I said. “I didn’t mean to. But what I wouldn’t give to have come back a week earlier and talked with Gran at length.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re right. I don’t want that regret. But if he asks about the bar exam, like if I already took it or if I’m studying hard, well, I can’t lie to him. He’ll know if I’m holding something back. And I don’t want to face his disappointment.”
“You could tell him about Justin,” I suggested. “That would make him happy and could be a diversion. You don’t have to mention law school or anything having to do with Mi-Ja.”
“Trust me, I’m not going to. He’s very traditional. I’ll visit because you and Justin are right, but I won’t upset him at the end of his life. I’m not discussing law school or my grandmother and the hanbok.”
“The secret can remain a secret forever.” I held out my fifth finger and she hooked it with hers. “Pinkie promise.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was Thanksgiving Day, but Helen’s first thought was not about the holiday. Her first thought was the same one she had every morning. Please let Mi-Ja live.
Although they did not talk of it openly, death moved toward them like a slow train in the distance. It could be heard and seen and felt, and it was louder and faster and shook the ground more clearly day by day as the baby weakened.
It would soon arrive.
They spent the morning watching the Macy’s parade on the television set. There were the usual festivities of floating balloons. The Rockettes danced their way down the open street, beautiful in their glittery costumes, long legs kicking upward, feet encased in silver shoes. Later, Elvis appeared on a midday news program.
“Look, he got a promotion.” Helen pointed to the new private first-class insignia on Elvis’s uniform.
“Very nice, Mr. Elvis,” Eunhee said, smiling a bit. Mi-Ja rested on the sofa between them. She had barely woken all day, and Helen’s nurse’s eye noticed that her skin grew more slack and dry, likely from dehydration. Helen and Eunhee cooked the meal together, some Korean food and Helen’s first hand at a Thanksgiving dinner. She’d made little mounds of cottage cheese and snipped chives to sprinkle across the top and set the little dish alongside a long tray of Sunshine Hi Ho crackers, her favorites.
The turkey was small enough that there had been room in the oven for the Delmonico potatoes. Use cheddar next time, she wrote on the recipe card. The Swiss makes them taste a bit sour. Crush up crackers for the top, too. Mmm.
There was cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie—Don’t use nutmeg; it gives me heartburn—but when they sat down at the table, candles lit, both of them picked at their food.
“The potatoes are delicious,” Eunhee said, trying to bring cheer.
I should be cheering her! “Maybe we’re not used to eating this early in the afternoon. Thanksgiving leftovers are always better than the meal itself, anyway.”
After they packed up the food and stored it in the fridge for later, Eunhee said, “I think I’ll take a little nap. You should too. That was a big meal to prepare.”
Helen nodded and then made her way upstairs. She sat at her dressing table and took off her pearl earrings and necklace. She picked up the soft-bristled brush, the silver one she’d received as a wedding present, and ran it through her hair. She took off her ruby-red holiday dress and then put on a day dress before reaching for the dressing table’s light.
That lamp. She’d brought it from Virginia, one of the few things she’d kept from a turbulent girlhood. When they had to move regularly because her father inevitably irritated or offended his superiors, she had been allowed one box to take treasures. The lamp always took up half of it. Its base was a porcelain woman from the bust up, her nose pert, lips red, golden locks dripping down onto her shoulders. Atop her head was a pretty white hat, and atop that, the light bulb and its shade. The chip in the shade made the lamp even more lovable. It had lived long enough to be chipped and yet still shone.
Someday, maybe, Helen would have a daughter to pass it along to. Lauri. A girl with golden locks, like Helen’s and like the lamp girl lighting the way. That would be something for which to give thanks indeed. She turned the light off.
When Helen woke, the room was black. Darkness fell early as the tail end of autumn whipped them toward winter. She pulled on a sweater, slipped into her satin house slippers, and went downstairs. Eunhee must not be up yet. The house was dark.
Helen walked into the living room and flicked on the corner lamp. It illuminated the room, and she saw Eunhee on the couch, Mi-Ja in her arms.
“She’s gone,” Eunhee said quietly. “She slept next to me on the bed, and when I woke up, she had passed from my hands into the hands of her Father.”
Helen quickly walked over and placed her hand on Eunhee’s arm. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. But you may check.”
Helen took the baby into her arms. Although the little girl had always been a bit more flaccid than other babies due to her Down syndrome, her muscles were completely relaxed now. Helen felt for a pulse, but there was none. She checked for breath, but there was no breath, either.
She hugged the little girl tightly, squeezing her grief into a small place inside for the moment, and then handed Mi-Ja back to her mother. “She’s gone.” She readied herself for Eunhee’s tears, but they did not come. Perhaps she was in shock. “Are you all right?”
Eunhee nodded. “My heart is broken, but I know hers is not anymore. I will never be the same, but I am all right. I was prepared. I know she is safe and well now in heaven and not tired when she breathes.” She tenderly stroked her cheek, as she did when she’d encouraged the baby to nurse, as if locking in that memory. Then she pulled Mi-Ja tightly to her before gently brushing back her hair. “I would like to bathe her one last time. Would you help me?”
They walked into the bathroom, and Helen drew warm water into the tub. Eunhee unswaddled Mi-Ja, and together they washed her little body and her hair. After they’d bathed her, Helen said, “What would you like to do next?”
Eunhee sat with the baby on her lap. “I will bury her next to her father. I will have a stone made for the top of her grave with her name on it and the beautiful mugunghwa and a line of thread connecting with a little box full of spools, but no dates. This way, we will always remember that her life has no end and will be very long indeed.”
“I can drive to the mainland and telegraph your mother,” Helen said. “If you want her to know right away.”
“I will mail her,” Eunhee said. “I have other things to tell her.”
Helen didn’t press. “Do you want Mi-Ja to be buried in her hanbok, the one for her Baek-il?
“No. I may have another daughter—I hope I will have another daughter—and if I do, she can wear her sister’s garment so that they may know one another in that way. They will share it. It will be for them both. It’s my fondest wish.”
Eunhee made a few phone calls to get the arrangements underway. The burial was arranged for Saturday. “I will drive you,” Helen said.
Eunhee shook her head. “If it is all right with you, I would just like to be there as the three of us, one time. Mother, father, and baby.”
“Take these to scatter.” Helen held out several small muslin bags. It was too cold, of course, for fresh flowers. But she had collected petals from the rose of Sharon over the past months and dried them, in preparation for her friend.
Eunhee reached out her hand. “Thank you,” she said. “These will always remind me of Mi-Ja.”
On Saturday morning, Helen helped Eunhee into the car. “I wish there was something else I could do for you.” She knew from experience that there was nothing anyone could do to help.
“You can,” Eunhee said. “I have looked at Mi-Ja’s things one last time. To go on, I must not cry into them any longer. Could you wash and pack them and then perhaps ask Johanna to put them into the barrel of clothes that their church sends to missionaries?”
“Yes, of course,” Helen said. She would do whatever it took to make Eunhee comfortable, no matter what she asked. “And the hanbok and thread box?”
“Save them someplace,” Eunhee said. “I will give that to my next beautiful daughter.”
As Eunhee drove down the driveway, toward Sunnyside Cemetery, a flock of sparrows took to the air, flying higher and higher, until they were entirely out of sight.
Fly freely. Helen blew a kiss skyward. Be well, sweet baby.
Helen went into the teal bedroom. Drawer by drawer she opened the bureau and took out the baby’s items. She carefully wrapped the hanbok in tissue paper and then walked to the attic. “You are living a joyous life now, little Mi-Ja, our rose of Sharon. Your umma’s strong faith in heaven makes me believe in it too. Your eternal blossom will not fade.” She glanced at Bob’s case. “All my hopes,” she said. “So many have been crushed. And yet somehow, because of this child and her mother, I believe that many more good things will come my way.”
She nestled the hanbok and the one hundred day threads in the hope chest, closed it, flicked the light out, and walked down the attic stairs.
Once in the kitchen, Helen prepared the spicy crab bisque she knew Eunhee enjoyed. Make sure to add the cooking sherry, or else it’s too thick, she jotted to the side of the recipe. Then she set it in the refrigerator until dinner.
As morning broke into the afternoon, the sun broke through the clouds. The Skylark pulled into the driveway, but instead of coming into the house, Eunhee walked across the orchard in the front of the house and sat on the swing the Jansen boys had fixed. It was right in the middle of the apple trees.
Helen slipped on a soft cardigan and went to join her friend. “How did it go?”
“Sad, quiet. But I felt togetherness. She is whole and happy, and I will see her again. God helped me to bear the pain.”
“Not angry with him anymore?” Helen dug her foot into the soft ground and gave the swing a little push, hoping that the rocking motion would soothe.
