Page 34 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

“That’s a nice sword, Jace,” I say. “Where did you get it?”

“He borrowed it from the Children’s Village!” Abigail says. “It was lying outside.”

“Borrowed it, eh?” I raise an eyebrow at Jace.

“Just for the day,” he immediately says. “Besides, those kids don’t need it. They get all the good toys.”

“And cookies!” Abigail adds. “People from outside bring them cookies because they feel bad for them. But they should feel bad for us, too. We don’t get any cookies.”

“They should feel as bad for you as for the kids in the orphanage?” I ask. They’re an amusing bunch, even if I’m still hot under the collar from Violet acting like she doesn’t know me from Adam. “You might not have cookies, but you have parents.”

“I want parents and cookies.” Abigail is unrepentant.

“I don’t!” At first I think Jace is more sympathetic to the kids in the Children’s Village than his sister, but I’ve overestimated him. “I want gold! Pirate gold!”

“Gold is always a good investment,” I say. “You know, I’ve heard Bluebeard hid his gold doubloons before he died.”

“Before he was hung!” shouts Jace. “He was hung by the neck till dead!”

The pronouncement makes Ethan and Abigail crow. They shake their fists and say, “Arrgh!”

“But did you know Bluebeard didn’t only hide his doubloons?” I ask, capturing the attention of the motley crew. “He buried them.”

“On a deserted island!” chorus the children.

“Naw…” I pretend to ponder. It’s nice to talk to the kids. They don’t judge me. Not like Mrs. Aratani. I wonder what she said after she had Violet out of my earshot. I wonder if Violet will obey. “That isn’t quite right. Not an island or a cave. Let me see…where was it?” I lower my voice, and they gather close, eyes flashing with excitement. “A desert. A desert called…hmm…Mowens Alley? No, that’s not right. Bowen Sally?”

“Owens Valley,” Abigail cries. “Bluebeard buried his gold here! At Manzanar!”

“Let’s go find it.” Jace hoists his sword in the air like a rallying knight.

“Wait, wait, it’s late.” I’ve riled them up, so I do my best to stop them from running headlong into the camp. “Your mother is probably waiting to take you to dinner. Come on, let’s head back. The doubloons won’t go anywhere. You can hunt them down tomorrow.” The kids sigh dramatically but obey. I notice Abigail lagging, her steps shorter than her brothers’. “Want a ride?”

She nods happily. With my good arm, I swing her onto my back. She’s lighter than Violet’s laundry. Her hands close around my neck. I worry about the kids in the heat. Days get over a hundred degrees but then at night it drops all the way down to the forties. Wind doesn’t help anything. It’s either Lucifer’s hot breath or the Abominable Snow Monster’s cold one, blowing into your face, kicking dust in your eyes. On top of that, it’s dry as bone. Nurse Rose goes around the camp armed with tissues because bloody noses are so common.

“How old are you guys?” I ask.

“Eight and three quarters,” Jace says proudly.

“Six!” Abigail chirps in my ear. I look at Ethan. He’s shyer than the others, I realize.

“I know how old you are,” I tell him. “You’re twenty, clearly. Older than me.” They are an easy audience. The joke sends them into uproarious laughter. Ethan holds up four fingers, a smile on his grimy face. “Four, I see. Well, I was close.”

Mrs. Wozumi is holding the baby, Akiko, outside the barrack when we arrive. She wags her finger at her older children and shakes her head, upset at how dirty they’ve become. She thanks me for bringing them in and herds them toward the mess hall, but they morph from playful puppies to stray cats, not watching where they’re going and heading in different directions. I don’t envy her. She’s probably about thirty and alone with four kids because her husband was arrested, just like Violet’s Otōsan. At least the Wozumi kids seem to be having fun with their newfound freedom. For them, it’s probably like summer camp, the adults’ fears playing out far above their heads. But I know they miss their father something fierce. I hear them asking their mother all the time about when he’ll come back.

I rub the back of my neck as I head into our barrack in a futile attempt to ease the locked muscles. I’m exhausted. I try to focus on the fact that maybe I’ll get help from the god, but right now I’m just pissed off and worn out.

Emi, at least, is awake and reading in her bed. Dr. Suzuki comes by every day to check on her. He’s been pleased with her progress and even says she can get up and occasionally go to one of the gardens or the mess hall for a change of scenery. She’s not in the clear, though. The biggest challenge, he says, will be the labor and delivery in about two months. It’s a tough thought, one that follows me everywhere. Makes me feel like we’re crossing off calendar squares to the Day of Judgment or something.

Mr. Nomura sits on a crate, making more origami flowers. Mama is next to Emi’s cot on another crate, her face blank. I know, though. She’s scared for Emi, so scared she’s basically watching her like a pot waiting to boil. We all are.

“Why don’t you two go get dinner?” I ask. “You haven’t been out in a while, Emi.”

“Are you up to it?” Mama asks Emi. “It isn’t far.”

“Yes, I think I could use the fresh air,” Emi replies. She lowers her book and grimaces at my sweaty hair and clothes. “Or perhaps I should say hot air. Did you go swimming, Ren?”

“No, but I did work in a warehouse without air-conditioning. See if you come back any different,” I retort as I push my sweaty hair back, grateful that she’s herself again.