Hands on the Wheel Ch. 05

Satisfied that he was dead, she picked up his head by its greasy hair and let it bleed out on the bed. When the bleeding stopped, she placed the head on one of the bedposts and walked across the room. Sitting in a comfortable chair, she opened her rucksack, ate the bread and cheese, drank from her flagon of wine, and contemplated her success.

After finishing her meal, she wrapped the head in her dress, took the Lord's purse from his belt, and stuffed them both in her rucksack. Returning the wineskin to the rucksack, she hoisted her pack of trophies and returned to the forest.

Instead of going to the Physician's home in the woodley, she walked boldly to the brigands' lair and sought the Leader. Without a word she opened her rucksack, scattered the ears of the men-at-arms on the ground before him, unrolled her bloody dress and dropped the Lord's head with his cock poking out its mouth to the ground. Then she held the Lord's purse high and shook it so the jingling gold and silver coins could be heard.

"This is my reward for taking my revenge on the men who killed my father and my mother and my husband on my wedding night! I shall also carry out my revenge on all his family, which will bring much more gold and silver! You are welcome to join my quest and share the rewards, but if you fear the consequences I shall do it alone!"

She put the purse back in her rucksack then spoke to the Leader of the brigands so quietly that no one else could hear. "I learned how to wreak my revenge from the Physician, but I would be happy to occasionally share his more earthy teachings with you in exchange for your assurance of safe conduct among your stalwart band." To ensure he made no mistake of her meaning, she gripped his flaccid manhood through his leggings and gave it a telling squeeze.

He nodded to her, then spoke to the group. "This woman has proved her mettle by her boldness and resolve. We will join her to complete her revenge. Let no one lay a hand on her lest they feel my wrath. She is no threat to us, nor is the Lord of the Manor any longer. God help his family, for we shall not."

He turned to the woman whose face bore no sign of emotion, but simply a distant stare. "The Physician never told us your name. How are you called?"

She answered without looking at him. "I have no name. You may call me Woodley."

Thus did Sarah Miller die that day and Woodley come to be. She never returned to the Physician's cottage in the hidden glade, nor did she ever again practice her seduction arts with him. Occasionally she would share the Leader's bed, but most nights she would melt into the forest, only to reappear the next morning to break her fast and prepare for the day's foray.

She became the most ruthless and feared brigand of them all. Before the year was out she fully exacted her revenge for the murder of her parents and husband, gainsaying any share of the plunder for herself. Blood and anguished cries—particularly when they delivered the Lord's daughters and grandchildren to agents of the Moors at a Southampton dock for more gold than any of them had ever seen—were sufficient reward for her hardened heart.

The Physician took her aside one day and expressed his sadness at how cruel and unloving she had become. She laughed mirthlessly and told him that never again would she be so weak that others could hurt her. He asked her if it meant nothing when they made love as she was recovering in his cottage. Yes, she told him, it meant that not only did she get the poison she needed and the lessons in arms and seduction, but she also learned that sex and love were in no way related to one another.

A few months later when someone remarked around the cook fire that no one had seen the Physician for some time, she said that he probably no longer had the backbone for the life of a brigand and had gone off to a monastery. She meant it as a jape, but in fact that is just what happened. The Physician embraced the contemplative live of a monk, and spent the rest of his days healing the sick and praying for the soul of the person he had loved above all others: the woman he knew as Sarah, whom hatred transformed into the bringer of death and destruction known and feared throughout the kingdom as Woodley.

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Fumiko was shocked by Sarah's second violent story. "But you—"

She was interrupted by the kitchen door banging open and a bundle of energy carrying a backpack, yelling as he ran up to her.

"Mother! Guess what? Philip's parents are taking him to Seattle this weekend and he said they want me to—" Fumiko shushed him with her finger to his lips.

"Ichiro! Where are your manners? We have company. Now go close the door and introduce yourself to Miss Morrison."

"But they—" This time Fumiko put her finger to her own lips and shook her head, then pointed to the open door. Sarah watched him sigh, put his backpack on the kitchen counter, and walk back to close the door. Quietly. Fumiko wasn't about to spoil her son...her son?

She looked more closely at the boy's face as he turned and walked over to her. She tried to smother a gasp, then looked questioningly at Fumiko, who returned her gaze and smiled. Her son bowed briefly before Sarah. "Welcome to our home. My name is Ichiro Ivanovich Hayashi."

Feeling a bit awkward because she wasn't quite sure how she should respond, and lightheaded with wonder at what she suspected, Sarah stood and bowed in return. "Thank you for your hospitality, Ichiro-san. My name is Sarah Elizabeth Morrison." She realized she had tears in her eyes and didn't know whether she should offer to shake his hand, but Fumiko came to her rescue.

"Thank you, Ichiro. Miss Morrison is a friend who lives in California. Why don't you take your books up to your room and come back down in a little while? We can have some cookies and tea and talk about going to Seattle."

"Hai!" The boy acknowledged the command disguised as a suggestion. Fumiko wasn't sure whether he was being sarcastic or just letting Sarah know that he was bicultural, so she simply smiled and leaned in to him. He kissed her cheek, fetched his backpack, and set out for his room. Fumiko invited Sarah to join her at the kitchen table.

When Sarah heard the door to his room close, she wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to Fumiko. "Ivan doesn't know he has a son." It was a statement, but also an unspoken question: Why hadn't Fumiko told him?

Fumiko gathered her emotions before answering. "After Ivan left Japan, I was traveling almost constantly for two months. I didn't pay much attention to my period until things slowed down and I got back home. Pretty soon I realized that I needed a pregnancy test."

The next part was harder for her. "Besides, I had no idea how to reach him because he never called or wrote to me. Even if I could find him, he apparently thought of me as just a one-night hookup. I assumed he would feel no responsibility for a child—and yes, I know what assume does." The half-smile she managed was sad and fleeting.

"I was surprised and a little nervous to see him when he found me at the conference in San José, but we never had a chance to talk. It was maddening, but there was nothing I could do." It was her turn to start crying softly. "At least I couldn't think of anything; all I could do was watch Ivan getting more and more unhappy.

"Ichiro missed me, was having a very bad morning with my parents, so he kept calling and texting me with complaints. I knew that Ivan was getting very frustrated because I wasn't paying attention to him, but Ichiro was so unhappy. I asked him to stop calling, but he was crying and...well, I'm his mother. I had to try to make him feel better. That's what mothers do." Sarah wasn't a mother, but felt Fumiko's sadness and reached across to cover her hand.

"Making it worse, I had to leave because my job interview was moved up. That really upset Ivan, but I needed the job and felt I had to go to the interview. There was no time to explain why it was so important, they wanted me right away. Ivan's frustration turned to anger. He said he was sorry he had bothered me and stormed off before I could say anything." She had to stop for a moment.

"The job was important because two years after Ivan left Japan I took a job with a conference interpretation agency in Vancouver. Ichiro was just over a year old. But three years later my father died and my mother couldn't handle the legal matters, so I had to go back to Japan.

"I took an unpaid leave and estimated I would be gone a month, but after six weeks I saw that it was going to take much longer because my mother decided she wanted to sell the farm and move to a retirement center in Osaka. I had to resign my job, then there were unexpected legal problems selling it, so it took more than a year to take care of all the details of his death.

"My father left me some money, but within a year I had to go back to work. The agency in Vancouver was able to keep me fairly busy with contracting jobs in Asia, so I managed to keep up my contact with them. They invited me to attend the conference in San José and interview for a job senior to the one I had with them before.

"It meant financial security for Ichiro and me, plus I had started the process of applying for Canadian citizenship for both of us and wanted to complete it. I didn't just want the job, I really needed it. But leaving Ivan for the interview meant I didn't learn why he seemed to ignore what I thought we had found—I might even have lost the chance for us to find each other again."

Sarah now was sure that Ivan and Fumiko still cared for each other. She believed their love would return if they both understood the circumstances that conspired to drive them apart. She was pretty sure that Fumiko now knew that Ivan didn't abandon her, but was overtaken by events he couldn't control. Now she had to find a way to convince Ivan that Fumiko didn't blow him off at the conference because she didn't care for him.

They both were worn out by the emotional events of the day. When Fumiko heard that Sarah wasn't leaving until the following evening, she tried to convince her to check out of the hotel and stay one night with her and Ichiro. Sarah insisted that it would be more restful for all of them if she remained at the hotel, but she promised to come back the next day.

That evening, Sarah didn't want to eat alone in the dining room, so she ordered a room service meal and did nothing but try to think of some way to convince Ivan that Fumiko wasn't ignoring him that afternoon, that she was as much a victim of circumstance as he had been when he returned from Japan.

She went to sleep still fretting that she couldn't think of a good plan, but she woke up the next morning with an idea planted in her imagination. Did she dream it? She rushed through a shower and breakfast, then headed back to her new friend's house. Fumiko could see that Sarah was excited when they sat down with cups of coffee.

"When is Ichiro's birthday?"

"Why? How can that help?"

Sarah explained her idea. The more she talked the more excited she got, and the more excited she got the more Fumiko began to think it might work. Even if it didn't, Ichiro's eighth birthday would be a happy day to remember.

Two months later

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Ivan wasn't in the best of moods as he rang Sarah's doorbell. The short flight down from San José to LAX was the usual clowns-in-a-tiny car experience, his rental car died just after he got on the 405 and it took an hour and a half to get him in another rental, then it took him almost twice as long as he estimated to get to Sarah's apartment.

Her heart fell when she opened the door and saw the scowl on Ivan's face. He marched past her without even saying hello. "What's so important that I had to take two days off and come down here, Sarah? We've got a big checkpoint coming up Monday. I told you how important Rhodium is."

"Jeremy's okay with your coming, Ivan. He thinks it's pretty important. I'll be right back. Maybe you'll agree that it was important, too." She turned and walked down the hall toward the bedrooms, leaving Ivan to wonder what this was all about and why was Sarah still in touch with Jeremy.

He was looking out the window at the strawberry fields in the distance, when he heard a familiar voice. "Hello, Ivan." Catching his breath, he turned around to look at Fumiko, surprise and a hint of anger on his face. She had walked noiselessly into the living room behind him and was standing by the couch.

She waited a moment for a response, then continued. "I'm sorry for the mystery, but Sarah and I were afraid you wouldn't come if you knew I was here." She perched on the edge of the couch cushion. "Sarah explained why I didn't hear from you after you left Japan. I understand now. I wish I had understood then, but I didn't know about any of those things that happened."

She paused again, afraid that Ivan no longer cared for her enough to accept what happened that afternoon in San José. "Please let me explain what happened that afternoon at the conference in San José, why we didn't have time to talk about...to talk about us. To explain why I kept putting you off and then had to leave."

Ivan grunted. "Had to leave? What's to explain, Fumiko? You've moved on, you have a career, you didn't want to waste any time with me." His bitterness brought tears to Fumiko's eyes.

"No, that wasn't it at all! Yes, the job interview was very important, but that's because two years after you left Japan, I moved to Vancouver for a job with an agency there. They have a dozen full-time simultaneous interpreters on staff, and contract with freelancers to handle and overflow." Ivan was surprised; he hadn't known that Fumiko had left Japan, let alone was on the West Coast.

"I was doing very well in the job. In fact, I was scheduled for a promotion to manage the entire contracting function, when my father died. I had to go back to Japan to be with my mother and take care of the legal matters. She simply wasn't capable of handling them, and when she decided to sell the farm and move into Osaka, it was obvious that I would have to stay more than the month of personal time I had scheduled.

"I had to resign my job because they needed someone to take over the contracting department right away. It took me almost a year to get everything settled—get the farm ready to sell, help find a buyer, take care of the property transfer, and get my mother comfortable in an assisted-living facility in Osaka. I went back to freelancing.

"When the company saw that I was scheduled to present at the AIIC conference, they emailed me and asked if I wanted to interview for the job again; the person they hired after I resigned didn't work out." She started talking faster, as if pushing her words together would make it easier for Ivan to digest them, to accept them.

"The interview was scheduled for 7:00 that evening, but the COO, the most important of the three persons conducting the interview, was called back home for a family emergency. The interview had to happen immediately so she could catch the last flight out." Ivan continued to listen without responding, his face expressionless.

"I admit it, I panicked that afternoon in San José, but I wanted that job—no, I needed that job—so I could get back to Vancouver. The first time I was there I had started my application for Canadian citizenship, and wanted to finish the process. Simply too much was riding on that interview to risk jeopardizing it, and there wasn't time for me to explain why."

Ivan wanted to believe that Fumiko still felt some of what they shared in Japan, especially that last night and morning, but he was wary, afraid to make himself vulnerable again. "There would have been a lot more time if you hadn't had your face glued to your phone all the time." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I get it that the job interview was more important than reminiscing with me, but you wouldn't pay attention to me long enough for even a quick explanation."

Fumiko stood and moved toward the hallway. "Those texts were important, too, Ivan. Someone in Japan was having a difficult morning. Someone very important."

Sarah reappeared, leading a young boy by the hand. Fumiko knelt and hugged him, then pointed to Ivan. "Ichiro, this is Mr. Ivan Wolfe. You should make him feel welcome."

The boy solemnly walked to Ivan and bowed. "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Wolfe. I have looked forward to it for some time. "

Ivan stood and returned Ichiro's bow. Ichiro looked back at Fumiko, then continued his speech. "Tomorrow we are going to Disneyland to celebrate my birthday."

"Tell him how old you will be, Ichiro."

"I will be eight years old tomorrow." Ivan did some quick arithmetic, then blinked. His jaw dropped, and he turned quickly to Fumiko. "Is he...does he—"

"Ichiro Ivanovich has known who his father is since he was four years old."

Ivan and Ichiro gazed at each other for a long moment. Ivan's face was rapt with wonder, Ichiro's clouded with apprehension. Then Ivan burst into a grin, knelt, and held out his arms. Ichiro rushed to Ivan, threw his arms around him, and buried his head against Ivan's chest.

Fumiko's radiant smile bathed the room with her light, and her voice returned to the softness Ivan remembered so well. "He is only half Japanese, Ivan, so he is not so reserved as he ought to be." Ivan looked up through tear-washed eyes and answered her mock apology with a crooked grin.

"Yeah, but he's only half American, so his manners are a lot more sterling than they ought to be." He grinned, hoping she remembered the first time so long ago that she referred to Americans' sterling manners.

Fumiko did that thing again—for the briefest of moments she appeared to Ivan like a shy young Japanese school girl, inspiring a pleasant frisson of remembrance—then she smiled back. "We have an extra ticket for Disneyland, Ivan. Would you join us tomorrow?"

Ivan stood, keeping his arm around Ichiro's shoulder. "I would be honored, Fumiko, but it is Ichiro-san's birthday, so the decision is his." He looked at his son and raised an eyebrow in question.

Ichiro looked up at this man whose arm warmed his shoulders, then responded without looking to his mother for guidance. "It would make me happy tomorrow if you came with us. But..." His voice broke. He took a deep breath, then another. "But it would make my mother and me happy for the rest of our lives, Father, if you would come back to us and promise to never leave again."

Fumiko's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes opened wide and filled with tears. She looked at Ivan and shook her head. "I didn't—"

Ivan held his index finger to his lips to quiet her, then looked at his son.

"As you wish," he said, then stood and held out his free arm to his beloved Fumiko.

Epilogue

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They did go to Disneyland. None of them complained about long lines or overpriced food or long walks to the bathroom. Ichiro was embarrassed a few times when his father and mother whispered and giggled more than adults were supposed to, but he was so happy that Ivan was with them he quickly forgot about it each time. They wore themselves out walking and talking and laughing and riding; Ichiro slept in the back seat and Fumiko reminisced about their time in Japan to keep Ivan awake as they made the long drive back to Oxnard.

He drove back to Palo Alto the next day, but Jeremy threatened to transfer him to Possum Trot, Texas if he didn't get his ass back down to Sarah's place, where Fumiko and Ichiro would be staying another week. They both knew that Golkonda's only Texas office was in Austin, which was a long way—in many ways—from Possum Trot.