The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [110]
“It’s not upset. I’m overcome.”
“I too.” He walked to the edge of the overlook and gazed afar. Momentarily he said, “We’ll be married before our birthday in September, then.” His forthrightness made me laugh when he added, “Had we been more traditional, we would have known sooner about our birthday from a matchmaker.”
I thought that his birth in the Year of the Rooster was a good sign, a natural-born leader, proud and forward thinking. It would be easy to follow such footsteps, especially as they would cross the ocean! I remembered the classic poem my father had quoted to welcome me home, and considering Mr. Cho’s birth year, saw it now as an omen: The way home is a thousand li; an autumn night is even longer. / Ten times already I have been home, but the cock has not yet crowed.
Calvin said, “My father will marry us at West Gate Church. It doesn’t matter that your family is Methodist and mine Presbyterian. Your parents were agreeable on that aspect. Your mother actually said that my course of study in different seminaries should eventually prove if it mattered or not. She’s remarkable!” He reached for my hand. “And her daughter is just as remarkable.”
His palm felt cool, dry and serene. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. Say you’ll be my wife! Say you’ll come to America with me!”
I laughed with his exuberance, only remembering to cover my mouth at the end.
He opened his arms wide to the sea. “Nothing would make me happier than having you beside me on a steamer bound for Los Angeles.”
This new sentimental language of affection he freely used felt too foreign for me, but his expressiveness brought me to my feet. The peach slipped from my lap, rolled into a crevice in the rock and dropped out of reach, smashing in a gorgeous display of orange and pink broken flesh. I said nothing, but Calvin saw and offered me his. “Too bad. Have this. What’s mine is now yours.”
I pushed it gently back to him. “What’s mine is now yours.” He smiled just the way I hoped he would. Surprised by my own boldness, I turned to the view. I could clearly see the curve of the horizon and wanted just then to be immersed in those waves whose same waters lapped on the shores of my future.
For a time, we remarked on the beauty of the water and the sky—those expansive forms in nature the only vessels large enough to contain our unspoken feelings. When the sea began to darken in the descending sun, I packed the picnic things and said we should go—he’d miss his train.
I followed him down the trail. He carried everything and I no longer minded.
Like the Sun
SUMMER 1934
JAEYUN GAVE ME THE DARK BLUE CHINESE DRESS AS AN ENGAGEMENT gift when we parted at the train station early Sunday morning. She looked soft and fragile. I said to her, “Don’t decide anything yet, promise?” She’d told me that Dr. Murayama had urged her to break with her family, knowing he’d be drafted for military medical service when his residency ended in a year. I released my friend’s hands and used my eyes to plead. My own heart, touched as it was by Calvin Cho, felt in turmoil. “Anything can happen. At least come home and see your parents before you decide.”
“Maybe.” Jaeyun turned away. “Back to work!” she said brightly and waved goodbye.
On the train home, I tried to find the word for how different I felt. Womanly came to mind. On the sturdy wooden benches in second class, which were half filled, I jostled with the train, bouncing heavily on uneven tracks. All the windows were open and I held a handkerchief to my nose against the fumes. Through the smoke and dawn mist I saw pines clinging stubbornly to the sides of a mountain pass, and I spontaneously prayed for Jaeyun and gave thanks for Calvin and all the possibilities he’d brought. A vision of his tidy hands holding the peach made me shiver. I let my mind play back the seaside afternoon and rubbed my fingers together to feel the ring.
In Gaeseong I walked home in a reverie brought on by thoughts of my betrothal and the echo of the clacking train. Turning the corner to climb