Read Online Butterfly's Shadow by Lee Langley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lee Langley
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listened to his niece’s voice: the words rehearsed, dead; lines from some social science textbook.
‘In America he will have a better life. An education. Opportunities. What can you offer him here?’
For a moment he saw the room through Nancy’s eyes: a bare, stark box, a place constructed of wood and paper. Straw matting on the floor, no furniture, no trace of comfort. Money clearly in short supply.
‘With us, he will have a room of his own in a nice house, attend a fine school, go to college, make a career, be happy. I will be a mother to him—’
Cho-Cho’s apparent calm cracked. She said harshly, ‘You will not . . . be a mother to him. I am a mother to him.’
Nancy nodded, conceding the point.
‘But he would be with his father. Can you deprive him of that? Can you condemn a father never to see his child?’
Sharpless thought Cho-Cho might well point out that in fact Pinkerton had never seen his son till yesterday, that he could hardly be wrenched apart from a child he had just encountered for the first time. She might reasonably add that he should make his future with his Japanese wife, his son’s real mother; the three of them were already a family.
Cho-Cho remained silent. Then she made a small sidewaysmovement of her head, as though checking for a half-heard sound. She said, barely above a whisper,
‘Please. Go now.’
Nancy’s hands were tightly clenched, as though in prayer.
She whispered, ‘I beg you.’
Cho-Cho had turned away, smoothing a lock of hair behind an ear. Nancy watched and waited.
There was bargaining to be done here. Dare she offer money? Maybe later. There must be a way; some weakness to be found, used. Her thoughts whirled.
She moved to the door. ‘We will come again tomorrow. Ben wants to see his son.’
Looking back later, trying to detach the possible from the achieved, separate what he witnessed from what he heard, Sharpless became confused; he saw that Nancy had changed; was no longer the fun-loving girl he remembered. And the following day, when she strode into his office, it became clear that from being a guiding figure he had been relegated to the role of onlooker.
She looked gaunt, sharp-featured. In her arms, his cheeks smeared with tears, was the child.
‘We’ve come to say goodbye.’ She sounded rushed.
He was startled. ‘We?’
‘I’m taking Joey with me.’
Sharpless said incredulously, ‘Cho-Cho agreed?’
She gave a quick nod, and turned to the door: ‘We haven’t got much time; the ship’s due to sail.’
It was as she turned that he noticed a dark red stain on the side of her dress, where Joey’s sleeve had rested, a sleeve whose edge was dark with wet blood.
PART TWO
10
Nancy was the product of a good Methodist home: educated to obey her parents, fear God and do the right thing. The right thing on this occasion had surely been to rescue Ben’s child from an immoral woman and an alien environment, restore him to his father and give him a good home.
She now acknowledged that to achieve those ends she had found herself capable of duplicity; she had been drawn into dark places of the soul. In the cause of the greater good she saw that she had been sucked into wickedness. It did not come easily to her, she had no experience of deception and – vulnerable – she succumbed to the long sickness that follows a fall from grace. Where she had secretly hoped for a sense of purpose, the moral glow of a sacrificial act – to care for another woman’s child – she found that words could be more dangerous than blows, that nightmares can be experienced in waking hours, that one damn thing leads to another, though her mother would have told her to wash out her mouth for using such a word. She learned that guilt does not lessen with time.
Caring for the child was easy; giving him all the affection she could muster was more difficult. She told herself he was part of Ben, and she loved Ben, so she must also love his son, though there were
‘In America he will have a better life. An education. Opportunities. What can you offer him here?’
For a moment he saw the room through Nancy’s eyes: a bare, stark box, a place constructed of wood and paper. Straw matting on the floor, no furniture, no trace of comfort. Money clearly in short supply.
‘With us, he will have a room of his own in a nice house, attend a fine school, go to college, make a career, be happy. I will be a mother to him—’
Cho-Cho’s apparent calm cracked. She said harshly, ‘You will not . . . be a mother to him. I am a mother to him.’
Nancy nodded, conceding the point.
‘But he would be with his father. Can you deprive him of that? Can you condemn a father never to see his child?’
Sharpless thought Cho-Cho might well point out that in fact Pinkerton had never seen his son till yesterday, that he could hardly be wrenched apart from a child he had just encountered for the first time. She might reasonably add that he should make his future with his Japanese wife, his son’s real mother; the three of them were already a family.
Cho-Cho remained silent. Then she made a small sidewaysmovement of her head, as though checking for a half-heard sound. She said, barely above a whisper,
‘Please. Go now.’
Nancy’s hands were tightly clenched, as though in prayer.
She whispered, ‘I beg you.’
Cho-Cho had turned away, smoothing a lock of hair behind an ear. Nancy watched and waited.
There was bargaining to be done here. Dare she offer money? Maybe later. There must be a way; some weakness to be found, used. Her thoughts whirled.
She moved to the door. ‘We will come again tomorrow. Ben wants to see his son.’
Looking back later, trying to detach the possible from the achieved, separate what he witnessed from what he heard, Sharpless became confused; he saw that Nancy had changed; was no longer the fun-loving girl he remembered. And the following day, when she strode into his office, it became clear that from being a guiding figure he had been relegated to the role of onlooker.
She looked gaunt, sharp-featured. In her arms, his cheeks smeared with tears, was the child.
‘We’ve come to say goodbye.’ She sounded rushed.
He was startled. ‘We?’
‘I’m taking Joey with me.’
Sharpless said incredulously, ‘Cho-Cho agreed?’
She gave a quick nod, and turned to the door: ‘We haven’t got much time; the ship’s due to sail.’
It was as she turned that he noticed a dark red stain on the side of her dress, where Joey’s sleeve had rested, a sleeve whose edge was dark with wet blood.
PART TWO
10
Nancy was the product of a good Methodist home: educated to obey her parents, fear God and do the right thing. The right thing on this occasion had surely been to rescue Ben’s child from an immoral woman and an alien environment, restore him to his father and give him a good home.
She now acknowledged that to achieve those ends she had found herself capable of duplicity; she had been drawn into dark places of the soul. In the cause of the greater good she saw that she had been sucked into wickedness. It did not come easily to her, she had no experience of deception and – vulnerable – she succumbed to the long sickness that follows a fall from grace. Where she had secretly hoped for a sense of purpose, the moral glow of a sacrificial act – to care for another woman’s child – she found that words could be more dangerous than blows, that nightmares can be experienced in waking hours, that one damn thing leads to another, though her mother would have told her to wash out her mouth for using such a word. She learned that guilt does not lessen with time.
Caring for the child was easy; giving him all the affection she could muster was more difficult. She told herself he was part of Ben, and she loved Ben, so she must also love his son, though there were
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