Heirlooms, page 28
“Taste of your hands,” I said.
“Exactly.”
“I wonder what would happen if you put cola in there?” I grinned at Grace.
Mrs. Kim dropped her wooden spoon. “Never!” She went to the freezer to take out the meat. “When it’s almost frozen, you can slice it nice and thin. Then, when it’s time to cook the meat, you can put it into the skillet for just a few minutes, and it will be done but not tough.”
She deftly sliced the meat and then handed a knife to Grace and me, along with a piece of rib eye each.
We sliced our chunks of meat with varying levels of skill. I had a big piece at the end, and Mrs. Kim took the knife from me and showed me how to shape it into a thin strip. “See? Just like this.”
I tried it myself. And got it! She was right in between Grace and me. Grace to her left, me to her right. She was teaching both of us to cook at her elbows. “Thank you for including me,” I said. “I’ve always loved bulgogi.”
“You are most welcome.” She drew us each close for a moment, one to either side. Two daughters, one mother. My mom would have approved. Mrs. Kim showed us how to place the meat into glass containers with the marinade. “Let this sit for a few hours, and then tonight, quickly stir-fry it, serve over rice with sesame seeds and chives.”
She showed me how to quick-pickle the radish, chopped into chunks. “It will be ready in a few hours, and if you serve it on the side, the vinegar will bring out the best taste in the bulgogi. Now, for lunch.”
She opened the third bag. She’d brought some fresh fruit and a salad made of japchae, glass noodles made from sweet potatoes, vegetables, and an Asian-inspired vinaigrette.
“Should we sit outside?” Although I’d had no idea we’d be cooking together, I yearned for our afternoon together to go on. Even grown women, it seemed, needed mother love. I thought about Gran and knew she’d yearned for that, too, but wouldn’t risk reaching out again.
“Yes, certainly,” Mrs. Kim said. We went out to the picnic table. I brought napkins and napkin holders and quickly snipped off three small branches from the rose of Sharon and slipped them into the holders with the napkins.
“This is beautiful,” Mrs. Kim said.
“The meaning of rose of Sharon is perseverance,” I said.
She set down the plates of japchae. “Necessary for success.” She maneuvered her noodles with the chopsticks. I savored the slippery noodles, bathed in vinegar.
Grace didn’t eat. I looked at her, noticing, and Mrs. Kim looked up, too. “What is the matter, Grace? Don’t you feel well?”
Grace grinned. “I feel wonderful. Umma—I have something to tell you. First—I took the bar exam last February, but I did not pass.”
Her mother nodded. “Yes, I know.”
Grace let her chopsticks slide between her fingers and clatter, akimbo, in her salad. “You knew?”
“Yes, of course.” Her mother took another bite. “One day I went to get the mail and there was an envelope from the Washington State Bar Association registration in there. I left it in the mailbox for you to find.”
Grace’s mouth opened and she shut it again before opening it once more to speak. “I did get that and then changed all notification to electronic only. But I can’t believe that you . . .” She stopped herself.
“Didn’t open your mail?” Her mother smiled. “I have not taken the bar exam, but I can do difficult things.”
We all laughed.
“But how did you know I didn’t pass?” Grace asked.
Her mother took a bite and then answered. “The information about who passed the exam is published. When your name did not appear on there, I knew you did not pass. I had to look hard to find the publications.”
“Does . . . does Appa know?”
Her mother shook her head. “No, he does not know.”
“Would he be mad?”
“I don’t know. But you might be surprised. Sometimes opening a secret to sunlight—” she glanced at the bright sky—“brings freedom and joy.”
Grace took a drink of her tea. “I retook the test and passed this time. I just learned this morning.” Her face brightened with pleasure and pride.
I stood up and clapped. “I knew you could do it!”
Her mother’s face broke out in a big smile. “Grace. That is wonderful. Congratulations!” She handed the rose of Sharon stem to her, and I held out mine, too.
“Perseverance,” I said. “Does . . . ?” I almost said, Does Justin know?
Her mother’s hair was tucked behind her ears in her usual style. Her ears perked.
“Does anyone want more iced tea?” I asked. I poured some for Grace and me. Mrs. Kim did not prefer to eat and drink at the same time.
“Will your boss be pleased?” her mother asked.
“My new boss will be. I’ve taken a position with another firm. I’ll be much happier there. I’ll tell you and Appa all about it soon. You’d told Cassidy to take her life and add son-mat, the taste of her own hands. I hope it is okay if I do the same thing.”
Her mother pulled her close for just a moment. “Of course it is. When I was telling that to Cassidy, I already knew you had not passed the first time. I knew you’d be listening in and understand that if I was telling her it was okay, I was telling you it was okay, too.”
Joy blossomed on my friend’s face.
Later that evening, while I was packing papers from the filing cabinet, my phone rang from where I’d set it on the old phone table. It was Grace’s ringtone. “Hey, what’s up?”
“So I just told my parents about my new job. I decided to tell them about Mi-Ja and Down syndrome and why I was motivated to move in this professional direction. I’d just concluded that I would not be able to represent folks with disabilities and their family members with integrity if it seemed like my own family had to hide this like it was something shameful. It’s not shameful, and though I understand why she hid it, I want them all to know my halmoni for the strong woman she was—her whole life, in truth. And to know of Mi-Ja. That is the legacy I will carry forward. No more shame. I mean, after my mom knew about the bar exam and then all her talk about opening secrets to sunlight, I thought maybe she knew about Mi-Ja. My grandfather did. So I brought it up.”
My heart fluttered. “Had your parents known?”
“Nope. Neither of them,” she said. “They were shocked.”
“Did you tell them your grandfather knew?”
“I did. I’m not sure that made my dad happy, either. He got on the phone with my grandfather, and they had a rapid conversation in Korean. I couldn’t follow it all because he was in another room.”
“You going to be okay?” I asked. “Can I help?”
“I am going to be okay. I don’t regret my decision nor my career path or calling. I feel at peace about it, as far as my halmoni is concerned. It’s what I am choosing to do with her legacy, and I am proud of the choices I’ve made. However . . . things are still in an uproar here,” Grace said. “My dad wants to visit the room where my halmoni stayed before the house is bulldozed. Can we visit?”
“Anytime,” I said. “Is . . . is he mad at me? At Gran? For keeping this secret?”
There was a long silence. “I don’t know. Appa doesn’t really share his emotions easily. Plus, well, it took me a little while to process all of this. So I have to cut him a break. It’s startling news.”
“That’s true.” How would I feel if I’d just learned my mom had another baby before she’d had me—and that she’d been married before she married my dad but had not told anyone? Surprised. Shocked! I’d definitely have to process it. “When should they come?”
“It’s a big ask, I know, but it’s hard for my grandfather to get out and about anymore. He wants to come to the party on Labor Day. Could we all just come a bit early?”
Oh. Hmm. What if Mr. Kim was upset before the party? I mean, he had a right to be. But I just wanted the party to be a happy sign-off with no surprises.
“Having my grandfather there will help,” Grace reassured softly. Her grandpa had said he’d have Grace’s back. He’d have mine, too.
“Of course.”
The rental company had come the night before and set up all the tables and clipped tablecloths to them so they would not blow away. Still, their white corners fluttering in the gentle breeze looked like dove’s wings straining to take flight. I’d placed vases, anchored with heavy stones, in the center of each table and arranged flowers in each one. We’d moved the picnic table into the center of the greenhouse and cleared the shelves so they could work as serving areas, places for everyone to set their offerings to share. Grace had arranged canning jars with solar rice lights inside each and put them on the tables. When the sun set, the lights would flicker like fireflies. The smoker belched and the barbecue crew flipped and basted brisket and ribs.
It was go time.
Also, it was “no” time.
I’d never heard back from my father. It was okay. I’d tried. For the moment, I’d help Grace and her father come to peace with one another and their family situation, and then, as far as things went with my dad, I’d do what Gran couldn’t do with her parents. Her motto had been move on. Mine was, perhaps, move forward. Hers was contain the pain, and after all the pain she’d suffered, I understood. Like Grace’s halaboji had said about his wife, I would have seen to it that she never suffered loss again if I could. Because of her lifelong unconditional love, I had the heart space to keep an open door and hope to mend things in a way she hadn’t been able.
Mr. Kim’s SUV pulled up the driveway two hours before the first guests were to arrive. Grace’s parents helped her grandpa out of the car and into a wheelchair. He looked so frail. He must have been, what? Ninety? Plus, I knew men didn’t do as well being widowed as women. I was so thankful that he’d lived long enough to tell Grace the truth, that he’d known about Mi-Ja and supported Grace.
Mr. Kim pushed the wheelchair up the drive, his wife and daughter following them. I met them at the door and bowed, first to the elder Dr. Kim, then to his son, then to Mrs. Kim. They bowed politely in return.
“No need to take off your shoes,” I teased Grace’s grandpa as I looked at the wheelchair. He smiled.
“Let me show you where your mother stayed,” I said to Grace’s dad. “I mean, I know you’ve been here before, but let me show you her room.”
I headed into the teal bedroom. “This room is mostly how it was when Mrs. Kim lived here. I didn’t know either that she’d lived here until recently. But now I understand so much more.” Like why Gran had kept that sewing machine when no one in our family sewed.
I made way for Mr. Kim to wheel his father into the room. “This was her bed, and I brought down the bassinet that—” I looked at Grace’s dad—“your sister may have slept in. It’s been in our family for a long while. My mother and then I slept in it.”
He blinked fast. I knew from my own grandpa that men of a certain age liked to remain stoic. My gramps, the military man, had not shown easy emotion except to my gran, my mom, and me. Even then, not in the company of others.
I rushed on. “I know your mother was a wonderful seamstress, and this is the machine she sewed at. She probably made the hanbok here.”
Grace’s dad winced. After a moment, he said, “May I see this hanbok?”
I went to the attic, fetched it and the box of threads, and brought them back down. “Here.”
He took the hanbok in his hand like it was an actual baby, awkwardly but with tenderness. He stared at it, blinked rapidly again, and handed it to his wife.
“Her needlework is so beautiful,” Mrs. Kim said. Grace drew near to her mother and looped an arm through hers for a moment. “And this is the box of threads where Grace said the birth certificate was found?”
“It is.” I handed the wooden box to Dr. Kim.
“Those spools were gifts from the neighbors,” he said. “My wife told me that when Helen held the Baek-il for the new baby, the neighbors all brought spools of thread.”
Now that Gran’s name had been raised, I needed to speak up. “My gran kept this secret not to harm anyone or to deceive. She loved Mrs. Kim—Choi Eunhee—very much. She was her best friend, and Gran would have done anything for her.”
Grace’s grandpa patted my hand. “We know this,” he said. “We are honored. And now my sons will know that while they understood that their mother was strong and loving, she was stronger and more concerned for the happiness of their lives than they could ever have imagined. At an expense to herself. Keeping a secret for a long time is tiring.”
Grace’s dad nodded. “I cannot thank your grandmother in person. So I will thank you.” He turned toward me and bowed deeply. I bowed deeply back.
“The hanbok, of course, is Grace’s now,” I said.
“I will dress my daughter in it for her Baek-il,” Grace said.
Her mother lightened the tone. “First, you need a husband.”
Poker face, Cassidy. She will know the truth very soon.
The doorbell rang. Guests? Already? “Please excuse me for a moment,” I said. No one ever came to my front door, always the side door, by the mudroom.
I opened the door. “Dad? Dad! What are you doing here?”
He stood there, just outside the door. “I’m here for the party.” He looked behind him, where the grounds had been set up. “It’s today, right?”
I nodded. “Is Mary Alice . . . ?”
He shook his head. “I told you I’d be coming but she would not. May I come in?”
I stepped out of the doorway. “Of course!”
We went into the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Kim remembered him of course. “Hello, Mr. Quinn. How lovely to see you here,” Mrs. Kim said. “I’m so glad you could come. We missed seeing you at Helen’s funeral.”
I pursed my lips to hold back a smile.
“We had no idea you’d be here,” she continued, always on my team.
They relaxed into polite chatter for a moment and then headed out to the party.
“You can put your things in here, Dad.” I nodded toward the teal bedroom. Thankfully I hadn’t packed it up.
He lifted his small suitcase onto the dresser top. “I texted that I was coming.” He pulled out his phone and showed it to me.
I smiled. “Dad, that’s not a text. When you clicked on your contacts, you accidently sent it from your phone to an old email address I never check. It doesn’t matter. I’m so glad you’re here. How long can you stay?”
“Just until tomorrow night,” he said. “I couldn’t get much time off. But I wanted to be here for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the funeral.”
I wished he had been. But I could nurse that grudge or let it go. He was here. I was moving forward. The door was open to let pain flow out and hope rush in.
In the background, the deejay started up the music. “Let’s go outside, Dad,” I said. “I want you to meet the rest of my family.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Annika was already snapping photos. She waved to me, and I went to where she was and introduced my dad to her.
“Come and meet my family too,” she said. A middle-aged woman, man, and two twentysomething men stood under the Mickey tree.
“Hey, you get in there too,” I said to Annika. “I’ll take a picture of all of you.”
They smiled, I snapped. I handed the phone back to her.
Mr. Nordgren sat at one of the tables closest to the greenhouse and waved me over. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife,” he said. “Renee, meet Cassidy.”
His wife held out her hand. “So nice to meet you. We’re looking forward to continuing the picnic basket service next year. It’s been such a boon for our guests. Would you consider a weekly bouquet subscription too? For placement in each of the properties?”
No sad feelings. I swallowed hard. “That is a wonderful idea! Thank you so much for your encouragement and support.” I introduced them to my dad, and they told him how proud of me he must be.
“I am,” he said. Was that a tear in his eye?
DJ and his family walked up behind us. “Marcia, it’s so good to see you,” I greeted his mother and introduced my dad to them. She introduced me to her husband, and of course I’d already met her other children when they came to visit DJ.
“Sit here,” Mr. Nordgren said to DJ as he pointed at the empty chairs around the table. “It’s nice to see a friend.”
DJ smiled, and as his family took seats with the Nordgrens, I slipped away to give them time to get to know one another.
I headed toward the tables near the garden. Someone was in my garden. Two someones were in my garden. I headed over there to see them.
“Mr. Beeksma!” I hurried toward him. “I’m so glad you could come.”
My mom’s old friend Brenda stood nearby. “I was just telling Dirk what a fantastic job you’d done this year. This garden is as pretty as anything I’ve ever seen.” She looked at my dad. “Mark?”
“Hello, Brenda. It’s good to see you.”
She teared up. “I haven’t seen you on the island since . . .”
“Since Lauri passed,” he finished for her. “It took me a long time to be able to come back to the places we shared. Too long.”
He was loosening his contained pain too. Mom would be happy. “We’d better find a table before the slots fill in!” This was a night of hellos, but mostly it was a night of goodbyes. I wanted to make sure it was a great night before saying goodbye.
I looped my arm through each of theirs and walked back to the tables. I took a deep breath and walked toward one particular table. “Mr. and Mrs. Harper. I’m so glad you could come.”
Nick’s mom stood and embraced me, her dark hair twisted in a bun, a silver necklace gracing her neck. “Cassidy, it’s so, so lovely to see you again. I’ve wanted to have you over for dinner all summer.”
Mr. Harper stood up and hugged me next, the big, tight squeeze of a dad. “And no more ‘Mr. Harper.’ From now on, it’s Gregory. I’m sure Nick was going to make sure you weren’t going to slip away from him again before he risked bringing you over. I’m not sure Calista would forgive him if he let you go.”
