The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [177]
Dongsaeng continued, “I said to him, ‘I am Han Ilsun. Could it be you, Brother-in-law?’ and he said, ‘Dear God!’ and then I knew it was him!” Everyone laughed and Sunok clapped her hands.
“To say I was surprised is an understatement,” said Calvin. “It’s God’s work that you would be there at that very moment. It was meant to be.” He addressed the family, “Once he identified himself, I got the Jeep and he showed me the way. He’s told me something of your years of difficulties, and I was very sorry to hear these things, very sorry. I must ask, again, your forgiveness—” He stopped.
As he gathered himself, Grandmother said, “There is only God’s will, and we are among the truly blessed to be reunited.”
“There is no blame, and so no need for forgiveness,” said Grandfather. His eyes met mine for a flick of a moment, less than a glance, but I understood with the convincing truth of tears that my father had spoken to both my husband and me. Combined with Calvin’s presence, my father’s words released a weight that had crowded my soul since leaving Gaeseong. This physical sensation and my enormous gratitude untethered me to an emotion so rich I felt that if I were to lift my eyes to see my husband and family in this room all around me, I’d fly into the heavens, soaring with light.
Grandmother echoed Grandfather’s statement with a firm “Amen.”
My eyes met Calvin’s and I saw that his showed an unnamed determination. My features relaxed, and I hoped he could read from my expression the limitless measure of acceptance that poured from my heart.
Sunok said, “Harabeoji, how can he be a G.I.? Only Americans are G.I.s, aren’t they?”
“Yes, child,” said Grandfather. “It’s a good question.”
“The letter took more than a month to find you,” I said. “So yes, how did you become an American soldier?” while others chimed in, “Tell us about your studies. Is your family well? What’s New York like?”
“Start at the beginning,” I said. Meeja refreshed the water and I passed the cookies. We settled in beside the sputtering brazier to hear Calvin’s story, while outside, the sun seeped through the clouds and slowly arched across the sky.
“Four years ago, I finished a course of study at New York Biblical Seminary. Before then, I’d attended three other seminaries and wasn’t sure what I should next pursue. My studies thus far were seen as unusual, and I was advised to pursue a bachelor’s degree in sociology, then a master’s in philosophy of education, which I did. At that point, I had studied theology and Western culture to such a degree that I believed it would be best if I returned to the Bible; hence, the Biblical Seminary. But after Pearl Harbor, I knew I had to contribute somehow, and found a clerking job in the New York Office of Censorship. From there I was hired by the OSS—that was the American intelligence organization during the war—to translate various Japanese and Chinese communications, until the OSS was disbanded early last spring.”
This startling news made me quickly calculate and compare the years, and with irony and relief, I concluded that Major Yoshida’s accusation was wrong by three or four years prior.
“I briefly worked at the Herald Tribune newspaper in the classifieds department, a simple job that barely managed to pay for a room and a bowl of soup. A friend found work for me on the weekends cleaning houses, cooking and serving at parties. I know, odd work for a man, but I was grateful for the wages and learned a great deal about the American way of life.”
I recalled from an early letter that he had been a houseboy at times, but I hardly knew what to do with this additional information about his domestic jobs. Had I been with him, I gladly would have worked those jobs in his place.