Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

“That she’s innocent. Her lady-in-waiting is her alibi.” Reiko couldn’t bear to admit that Lady Nobuko had upset her so much that she’d been unable to get anything else out of the old woman and she still had the gnawing sense that she’d missed something during her search.

“Well,” Sano said, “that doesn’t exactly help decide the issue of Lord Ienobu’s guilt.” Reiko felt even worse, because she’d contributed so little to this most crucial investigation. “But one thing is certain: Whether Lord Ienobu comes out on top or Yanagisawa does, it’s bad for us. Neither one will let us live long.”

“What do we do?” Masahiro suddenly sounded more like the boy he’d been, looking to his father for guidance, but there was a dubious note in his voice: He no longer believed Sano had all the answers.

“We do what we’ve always done,” Sano said with too much confidence. “We find the truth.”

And hope it somehow straightens everything out, Reiko thought. The plan sounded like one whose time had come and gone years ago.

* * *

In the parlor, Taeko sat eating dinner with her chaperone, her mother, and the children. She heard Sano, Reiko, and Masahiro arguing, and although she couldn’t discern what they were saying because of the children’s noisy chatter, their angry voices upset her. Nausea struck. She dropped her chopsticks on her tray table of food, covered her mouth with her napkin, and spat out partially chewed noodles. Midori and Umeko glanced at her as they ate. Did they suspect?

Masahiro stepped into the room. Hope and anxiety replaced nausea. She needed to tell him why they had to elope, but she was terrified that he would say no. He looked tired, troubled by his argument with his parents.

Midori clambered to her feet like a mother bear ready to protect her young. “Don’t come near Taeko.”

Masahiro held up his hands. “I’m not going to touch her.”

“If I were to leave you alone with her, those hands would be all over her,” Midori retorted. Umeko and the children watched with interest, like an audience at a Kabuki play.

“I just want to talk to her.”

Midori folded her arms. “There’s nothing you should be saying to her that you can’t say in front of me.”

“We’ll stand over there.” Masahiro pointed to the corner. “We won’t leave your sight.”

Midori shook her head.

“Please, Mother!” Taeko cried in desperation.

“Get out! And if I ever catch you with her again, I’ll kill you!” Midori ran to Masahiro and beat him with her fists.

Umeko clapped her hands in delight. “Get him!”

“Hey, stop!” Masahiro tried to fend off Midori without hitting her back.

She tore at his hair, clawed his arms, and screamed. Taeko was alarmed because something was different about her mother. She was even angrier and less able to control her temper than yesterday. Taeko jumped up and tried to pull her mother away from Masahiro. Akiko came to her aid, saying, “Stop beating up my brother!” Umeko laughed gleefully. Tatsuo and Chiyoko started to cry.

“Go!” Midori shoved Masahiro toward the door.

He gave Taeko a defeated, helpless look, then slunk out.

“You showed him,” Umeko said to Midori.

Midori flounced back to her tray table, plopped down on the cushion, and glared at everyone. The children shrank from her, frightened. Taeko said, “Mother, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Midori’s chin trembled; her eyes were shiny with tears. “Just shut up and eat.”

* * *

After a tense, silent dinner with Reiko and Masahiro, Sano thought of going out to investigate Madam Chizuru’s confession, but he was so tired that as he walked down the passage he felt as if he were wading through mud. He hadn’t slept in two days. Drowsiness engulfed his brain in a numbing fog. He desperately needed a few hours’ rest.

In the bath chamber he stripped, scrubbed, then soaked in the hot water and almost fell asleep before he hauled himself out. Clean and dry, swathed in a towel, he went to the bedchamber and found Reiko undressing. She quickly turned away as she put on her night robe. She never wanted him to see her naked. Sano smiled without humor. If she knew how tired he was, she wouldn’t worry about him making advances. He turned his back on her while he stripped off the towel and donned his own night robe, sparing her the sight of his body. She didn’t speak. Neither did Sano.

It was safer not to say anything. What a terrible blunder he’d made when he’d asked her whether she would want to be told that her child she thought was dead was really alive! Fatigue and temper had made him careless. He hadn’t realized how bad it sounded until too late. He’d hurt Reiko, so much that she hadn’t let him apologize when he’d tried.

Reiko tucked herself in bed. Sano blew out the flame in the lantern and crawled under the quilt. They lay side by side in the chilly darkness, facing away from each other. As tired as Sano was, he couldn’t fall asleep. His muscles stiffened; his old battle wounds ached. He turned, trying to find a comfortable position. Reiko was restless, too. The atmosphere buzzed with echoes of their argument. His defenses weakened by exhaustion, Sano felt Reiko’s doubts about his judgment seep into him like an infection penetrating broken skin. Had he gone too far for honor? Would it be so bad to quit his crusade for truth and justice? If it brought his family peace, why not? Nobody but himself would fault him. Weren’t his twenty years of fighting enough? These blasphemous ideas were palatable when combined with fatigue.

“What should Masahiro and I do tomorrow?” Reiko asked.

Sano was glad she’d spoken, encouraged because she was still apparently willing to work with him. Troubled by his new doubts, he had to cudgel his tired brain to come up with an answer to her question. “Masahiro should talk to the shogun’s boy again. Maybe he’s remembered something else. You talk to Madam Chizuru. After a night in jail, maybe she’ll be ready to tell the truth.”

“All right,” Reiko said.

Sano realized, too late, that it wasn’t the best idea to employ his wife and son on his quest for the truth about the confession; they were hardly objective. But Sano couldn’t tell Reiko he’d changed his mind and put him at further odds with her and Masahiro, and he had to admit that he was just as biased.

“What are you going to do?” Reiko asked.

Sano heard the accusation in her words: What other trouble are you going to get us into? She probably wanted to work with him only to counteract what she saw as his wrong thinking and actions. His hope for a reconciliation waned. “I’ll go back to the Large Interior and try to figure out who, if anybody, got to Madam Chizuru.”

“Yanagisawa?”

“Him in particular. I forgot to tell you, I caught one of his men trying to smuggle blood into the Large Interior. But not just him.”

Reiko was silent a moment, thinking. “Yanagisawa isn’t the only person who would like Madam Chizuru to take the blame for the stabbing. There are the other suspects-Lady Nobuko, and Tomoe and her cousin Lord Yoshimune.”

The quickness of her mind, and the interest in her voice, lifted Sano’s low spirits. Maybe she hadn’t entirely changed. Hope was a stubborn creature that refused to die. Glad that for once they were talking without arguing, Sano said, “Yes. Madam Chizuru’s confession lets them off the hook.”

“How could they have forced her to confess if she’s innocent?” Reiko sounded reluctant to believe it possible.

“By the same means as Yanagisawa. Money, power, and cunning. Lady Nobuko and Lord Yoshimune have all those things.” The fog of drowsiness thickened. Sano yawned; he roused himself to say, “Maybe Lord Ienobu wasn’t meant to figure into the confession. If someone did force Madam Chizuru to confess, maybe whoever it was didn’t care whether Lord Ienobu was incriminated. Maybe all that he-or she-wanted was a good scapegoat.”