Only Uni (43 page)

Eventually her world righted itself and she raised her head. She had a billion questions and no tactful way to ask any of them.

His eyes slid sideways at her. “Just ask them.”

“Are you reading my mind?” This was way bizarre.

“It’s all over your face.”

Oh, the face with red eyes, red nose, red cheeks? Lovely. “How do you know?”

“Matthew and I have the same birthmark on our arms.” He pulled up his sleeve to the shoulder to reveal an apple-shaped black spot. “But I hated him for making me doubt it.”

She couldn’t say anything.

His jaw clenched. “I loved Linda. It’s been years, and I still can’t forgive him.”

She didn’t want to hear this. Would he ever forgive her for carrying Kazuo’s child, after what he’d feared about Matthew?

Kazuo wouldn’t have cared even if Matthew had been his. He hated children. They required attention and time away from his art.

He wouldn’t even babysit his cousin’s baby the one time they’d called to ask. He wouldn’t care about the one growing inside her.

“I still shouldn’t have walked away from you.”

She couldn’t answer that. A few more tears spilled out of her eyes and she caught them with the handkerchief.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice had a catch to it. “I shouldn’t have walked away and left you alone.”

Like Linda had done to him. The thought made her chest unclench. She still didn’t feel okay, but she could say the words she needed to say. “I forgive you.”

He swallowed, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked away, but his hand fumbled for hers and caught it in a painful grip. She felt the trembling that ran through him.

She squeezed back. She understood what he didn’t tell her. He released her hand.

They sat in silence until the sun dipped low on the distant foothills. She drank in the crisp night air, listened to the distant rush of a car driving past the street.

Finally, she became aware of the chill that settled over the dimness. She shivered. “I wanted so much to change into a different person.”

“You have changed.” Spenser sat so still. His face was an outline in the darkness. “Nothing we do makes change happen in us. Only God can do that.”

His hand, palm warm and fingers cold, covered hers again and wrapped around it. He squeezed and loosened.

“Are we okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re okay.” He swallowed. “It’ll take some . . . getting used to.”

“I know. Things are different.” She didn’t want them to be different, but it wasn’t like she was three years old and could throw a tantrum until God gave in. At least Spenser was still her friend. It made her glad. “I can’t handle anything complicated right now, anyway.”

He let go of her hand, stood, and stretched. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “C’mon.”

“Where?”

“To get something a pregnant woman can eat.”

She dusted off her jeans. “I’d never even have suspected if the old ladies at Katsu Towers hadn’t . . .”

Old ladies. Gossipy old ladies. Gossipy old
Japanese
ladies. The realization punched her in the throat.

By now, Grandma knew.

She prayed with all her might that Grandma hadn’t told them already.

She didn’t think so. Something that major, wouldn’t her parents call her immediately? At the very least to demand an explanation why they were the last to know? Among other types of ranting and raving.

Her stomach growled as she parked in her parents’ darkened driveway next to Dad’s car. She could have been out to dinner with Spenser by now, but the panicked paranoia of Grandma calling them made her refuse.

He’d seemed to understand when she explained the situation. “Chinese families are the same.”

She fumbled in the dark for the latch to open the side gate, steeling herself for its usual haunted-house screaming. But it swung open on silent hinges. She thrust her hand out. Someone had oiled it. Weird.

To get to the back door, she had to pass the wide picture window in the dining room. Tonight, Mom hadn’t drawn the curtains yet and light streamed in a rectangle on the grass, turning it silver.

Trish did a double-take at the sight in the window. Both her parents at the dining room table, sitting
next to
each other, heads bent
close together
, working on a jigsaw puzzle.

A puzzle! They hadn’t worked on a puzzle in forever, and certainly never just themselves — it had been one of the few things they did as a family.

She didn’t feel left out, exactly. She hadn’t been close to her parents — specifically, Dad — since New Year’s. She should be happy they were actually enjoying something together for a change. For the past several years, it had seemed as if they only lived together and didn’t have anything in common anymore.

Dad said something. Mom laughed and swatted his arm. He smiled, reached out, and touched her waist, leaning in for a peck on the lips.

Aaack!!

Dad never indulged in PDA with Mom. He never even indulged in
private
displays of affection with Mom. She felt like a voyeur standing outside the dining room window, watching her parents act like . . . lovers.

Ewww.

Who had kidnapped her parents and replaced them with these strangers who looked exactly like them and acted twenty years younger?

Mom’s head popped up from staring at the puzzle. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Dad looked up, too.

Mom’s eyes went wide, and she leaned in closer. “I think someone’s outside.”

Dad shot to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll get the gun.”

“Mom! Dad! It’s me!” Trish raced the few steps to the back door and pounded. That would have been a good headline — shot by her own father for peeping.

Dad opened the door. “We didn’t know you were coming.”

“I should have called. I’m sorry.” She joined her mom at the dining room table, Dad trailing behind her. “A puzzle?” She tried keeping her voice nonchalant.

“We started it last week.” Mom’s smile fluttered in and out. Why would she be embarrassed? Had she been trying to keep the puzzle a secret for some reason? Mom pointed at a seat for Trish. She didn’t move at her usual bird-like speed, but she seemed to have more energy than the last time she saw her.

Dad sat down next to her. “You haven’t come around much lately.”

She avoided her initial impulse to give her father an
Are you kidding me?
stare and instead kept an admirably neutral face. “I thought Mom needed some quiet to recover.”

Mom made dismissive noises in her throat. “You’re our only daughter. I’d always want to see you.”

“It’s probably a good thing, Marian.” Dad wouldn’t look at her. “She needed some time to herself.”

Trish turned her face away. She hated that he knew her so well.

He cleared his throat. “We’ve been going to counseling, Trish.”

“Arvin — ”

“No Marian, she needs to know.”

Trish could only look from one to the other. She knew she needed to close her mouth, but it had frozen in place. Japanese men did not go to counseling. Japanese men were strong and stoic and never admitted to mistakes or wrongdoing. Well, in general. “The counselor suggested the puzzle?” And the oiled hinges maybe indicated other little things her dad had done around the house?

“Don’t tell anyone.” Mom wrung her hands. “Especially Grandma. We don’t want the family to know. It’s no one’s business but ours.”

Trish nodded even as her mind whirled. Grandma wouldn’t want it known anyway, that one of her sons had to have therapy. That was weakness, a blemish on the family. She still couldn’t believe her father had agreed to it. And had volunteered the information to her, who knew the ugly truth and hadn’t exactly been the loving daughter the past couple months.

Maybe she’d been wrong about him. She wanted to be wrong about him. She’d been wrong about so many things lately. Tonight, after everything that happened today, she could see things differently. If God had been able to forgive her, touch her, promise to help her — she didn’t really have a choice about doing the same for her own father.

She didn’t want to keep shutting Dad out. It wasn’t natural because their relationship had always been close. Maybe she’d worshipped him, in a way, which was why God allowed her to see something that would bring him tumbling down.

After all, could she really throw stones with the secret growing in her?

She took a long breath that shook. “Mom, Dad. I’m two months pregnant with Kazuo’s baby.”

She heard the ticking of the wall clock. The faint whistle of the wind outside.

Well, if they didn’t have anything to say . . . “It happened before I officially broke up with him.” She needed them to know that.

“You’re Christian, you’re not going to abort — ?”

“No, Mom.”

“Are you going to keep it?” Mom twisted her wedding rings, which were so loose that they clinked.

“I don’t know. I might.”

“Are you sure about that, pumpkin?” Dad’s soft, concerned voice made her nose stop up and her eyes swell.

She sniffed. “I don’t want to regret giving it up.”

He reached out and clasped her hand too tightly. She squeezed back, needing to feel the pain, which was his love for her.

“Are you going to marry him?” Mom sounded hopeful.

“I don’t think he’d even ask.”

Mom’s gaze dropped to the unfinished puzzle. But then her face warmed with a joyful smile. “A grandchild.”

“They’ll talk about me at Temple. I’m sorry.” Great Christian witness, too.
God, is that what you wanted?
“I don’t know if I can do this.” She bit the inside of her cheek.

“We’ll help you, honey.” Dad released her hand. She missed the warmth. “You shouldn’t be doing those renovations on the house. You might hurt the baby.”

“About that . . . The guy wanted his house back.”

“When?”

“Um . . . tomorrow.”

Mom gasped. “Trish.”

“Don’t worry, I’m moving in with Venus.”

“You should move in here.”

“Dad, it’s too far to commute to work.”

“Telecommute.”

“I can’t really do that with biology studies. I have to actually dose and harvest the cells and run assays.”

“Venus’s apartment is too small.” Mom’s chin jutted out. “You should move in with us. We can help you better than Venus can.”

A three-hour commute every day. “I don’t know, Mom.”

She reached across the table and covered her hand. “I want you here, sweetie.”

Suddenly she wanted to be here, too, to rely on her mom and dad again. Not as much as she did before, but she wanted to be close again after two months of strained phone calls.

“I’ll think about it.”

THIRTY-FIVE

S
he couldn’t believe she was thinking about it.

On Wednesday night, Trish stumbled through the door to her parents’ house after a nearly two-hour commute that had practically sucked the life out of her. Mom had invited her for dinner, and she’d thought she’d at least try the drive after work to see what it was like.

A descent into hell.

But as she entered the house, she was enveloped by the aroma of frying chicken. She was wiped out, and that smelled heavenly. Maybe the commute would be worth coming home to Mom’s cooking every day.

Mom’s head peeked out from the kitchen doorway. “Chicken
katsu
for dinner. Almost ready. How was work?”

Trish collapsed into a seat at the dinner table. “Okay.” Spenser had been a smart-mouthed pain in the neck. She probably should be glad they were still friends considering their almost-relationship and the upheaval that cut it way short. But she didn’t really want to tell her mom about that. “My boss, Diana, requested a last-minute graph, but it took me over an hour to finish because my stupid graph program had fritzed on my computer and I had to call the IT guys to come rescue me.”

“Aw. Here, sit and eat.” Mom dropped in front of her a plate of steaming white rice smothered with breadcrumb-coated fried chicken and sweet-salty
tonkatsu
sauce.

With one look at the overfilled plate, Trish threw her arms around her mother’s waist. “Oh, Mom, you’re the best mother in the world,” she sobbed.