Home at last, p.17
Home at Last, page 17
Mrs. Talbot offered Mattie a gentle smile. “There are people like that everywhere, dear. All we can do is be an example and help folks see that God created us all and loves us all.”
With a sigh, Mattie reluctantly accepted that truth. However, she didn't much feel like loving people such as the ones they'd just stood up to. Jasmine, whose years of hurt etched her face, only nodded.
Jasmine moved a few days later. It was more battle than she was willing to take on. However, the anger and frustration of the tenants didn't go with her. It shifted—Mattie became the new target.
Hateful letters were left at her door and dropped in her mail slot. Several of the tenants refused to speak to her. Some threw malevolent looks and cruel remarks. Some even took aim at Meryl. One day while approaching the apartment building, Meryl was pelted with raw eggs from an unseen foe who also threw accusations—calling her a Jap lover.
“It makes me so angry,” Meryl said. “How can people be so utterly dim-witted and cruel?” She measured out sugar for a batch of cookies and dumped it in a bowl.
“I thought we were going to conserve the sugar,” Mattie said. “We don't get much.”
“Yes, I know. But I've just got to have some sugar cookies. I've been craving them.” She smiled. “When I was little and upset, Cook would make sugar cookies. They always helped.” She cracked an egg and dropped it into the bowl, then tossed the shell into the sink. “All of this is very distressing,” she said as she stirred. “I just don't understand.”
Mattie leaned her elbows on the kitchen table. “Maybe we should move.”
“No. Never.”
“I'm afraid something awful is going to happen. I don't know why people think I'm Japanese.”
“They're just looking for someone to take out their frustrations on. And your features are kind of oriental, plus you've got black hair and brown eyes. It makes you an easy target.” She added flour to the mixture in the bowl. “I'm sure all this will pass. We just have to wait it out.”
Steps sounded in the hallway, then an envelope was slipped underneath the door. Holding her body stiffly, Mattie stood, staring at it as if it were a snake ready to strike.
Meryl wiped her hands on her apron. “Seems to me people could have the decency to deliver mail in the standard fashion,” she said matter-of-factly and walked briskly across the room. She jerked open the door and stepped into the hallway. After looking up and down the corridor, she walked back inside and closed the door soundly. “The nerve.” She bent and picked up the envelope. Sliding a well-manicured fingernail under the fold, she scanned the contents. Her mouth formed a hard line, and her eyes narrowed. “Hmm. Some people are very small.”
“What does it say?”
“Nothing important. I'll just throw it in the trash.” She crossed to the kitchen sink.
“What did it say?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me see.” Mattie grabbed the letter. Her hand trembled as she read. This one was the worst. Her mouth went dry. After hurling grotesque threats, the author promised that Mattie would be turned over to the authorities and shipped to an internment camp.
“It's all just a bunch of nonsense,” Meryl said. “No one will touch you, and you won't be sent away. If government agents do try to arrest you, all you have to do is show them your identification.”
Mattie wanted to believe her, but fear strangled her confidence.
Meryl grabbed the letter, tore it in half, and threw it into the trash. “It's nothing but rubbish. Don't listen to a word of it.”
Mattie bit a quivering lip and closed her eyes. Tears leaked onto her cheeks. “I left Alaska to get away from this.” She wiped her eyes. “Now I'm hated for being something I'm not.”
Meryl crossed the room and hugged Mattie. “Everything will be all right. They can't do anything to you. This all will pass.”
“I wish that were true,” Mattie sniffled.
Meryl gave her an extra squeeze and returned to her baking. She spooned batter onto a cookie sheet. “Why don't you just tell them you're native Alaskan?” She brushed a stray curl off her face.
“That won't help. They'll just hate me for being an Indian.” Mattie stood and walked to the closet. “I'm going down to the drugstore to call my mother.”
Meryl slid the cookies into the oven. “Wait until tomorrow. It's dark out. You shouldn't be wandering around at night, especially with things the way they are.”
“I'm tired of hiding, and I need to call home.” Mattie could feel the tears again. She longed for family. Since arriving in Seattle, this was the first time she was truly homesick.
“At least wait until this batch of cookies is done, and I'll go with you.”
“No. I've got to face things on my own. I can't hide behind you.”
“Mattie. Please.”
Mattie headed for the door. “I'll be fine. There are plenty of streetlights along the way, and the store is only a block and a half away.”
City lights shimmered in puddles, and cars sprinted past, spraying water onto the sidewalk and onto Mattie. She moved away from the street, walking quickly. Doing her best to look confident, she held her shoulders back and her chin up, but her eyes darted to every dark corner and behind each parked car. A cold wind tugged at her coat.
Buoyed by the lights of the drugstore, she relaxed slightly and stepped inside. Nodding at the man behind the counter, she walked to the phone booth, heels clicking on newly washed tiles. She dug in her change purse, took out a nickel, and dropped it into the telephone. It chimed as it fell into place.
Thankful she'd sent money home for telephone service, she waited. Mattie smiled, remembering how her grandmother had said the new contraption wasn't to be trusted, yet Atuska enjoyed the conversations with her granddaughter.
Mattie gave information to the operator, then waited for the call to be put through, watching customers come and go. She caught a glimpse of someone standing outside the window. The person wore a trench coat but quickly disappeared, and Mattie wasn't able to see a face. A shiver of fear moved through her. Don't get yourself into a tizzy over a raincoat, she told herself.
Hoping for a distraction, Mattie studied an elderly man bent over the counter. He puffed on a cigar between sips of coffee. He also wore a trench coat, as did many men.
The operator returned, instructing Mattie to add more money. She dropped more coins into the phone.
“Hello,” Affia's voice echoed. She sounded far away.
“Mama, is that you?”
“Yes. It's me. Mattie? It's good to hear you. Are you all right?”
“Yes. I'm fine.”
“Are you sure? You don't sound all right.”
“I'm just a little homesick.” Mattie cradled the phone as if that would bring her mother closer. “I miss you.”
“We miss you too. I think about you every day. Will you be able to come for a visit soon?”
“No. I can't miss work. And I don't have money for the fare.”
“Of course.” There was a pause. “Are you happy?”
“Yes.” Mattie wished she were telling the truth. She had been happy until a couple of weeks ago. “Seattle is a beautiful place,” she said. “And I have good friends, especially Meryl. I wish you could meet her. You'd like her.”
“Maybe you can bring her when you come for a visit.”
“I hope so. I miss you and Grandma…and everyone. Please say hello for me.”
“I will.”
“How is Grandma?”
“Not so good. The cold is giving her trouble. It's getting harder for her to get around. The doctor said it's old age.”
“I'm sorry she's not well, Mama. Tell her for me?”
“I will. She's already asleep for the night, but I'll tell her in the morning.” She was silent a moment, then asked, “How is your job? Do you still like it?”
“Yes. I get to see people from all over the world, but I don't like watching the sailors and soldiers going off to war. It makes me think of Luke.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“Yes. He's in the Pacific on a ship called the Wasp.”
“We're praying for him.” Affia's voice trailed off as if she had something more to say, then she was silent.
“Mama, is everything all right?”
She didn't answer.
“Mama?”
“I have bad news…about Adam. He's missing. He was writing about a bombing mission, and the plane was shot down…in France somewhere. The family hasn't received any word of his whereabouts.”
Mattie felt the pang of grief. “How awful. How is Laurel?”
“Scared and sad. But she believes he'll come home.”
A singsong voice instructed Mattie to add more coins. “I have to go, Mama. Please let Grandma know I love her, and tell Laurel and Jean too.”
“I will. We love you.”
The phone went dead. Mattie held it a moment, then hung up. Adam was probably dead. What would happen to Luke? She hated the war.
Her heart heavy, she headed back to the apartment building. News of Adam and her fear about Luke had replaced thoughts of her own troubles. She didn't remember to watch for danger.
A large man stepped from the shadows of an alley. He wore a trench coat and a broad-brimmed hat, which kept his face in shadow. Terror surged through Mattie. She tried to walk past him. He grabbed her.
“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling to free herself.
He tightened his hold and clapped a hand over her mouth, then pulled her against him. “Shut up!” he hissed.
His voice sounded gravelly and hushed. Mattie didn't recognize it.
He wrapped an arm around her neck and squeezed, cutting off her breath. “Japs don't belong here. You all deserve to die.”
Mattie tried to speak but only managed a squeak.
“Shut up!” His breath was labored. “You're not wanted here. Leave, or you'll wish you had.” He chuckled. “An internment camp or a grave is the only place Japs belong.” He chuckled, and the laugh rattled in his throat.
Mattie tried to turn so she could see his face.
“You don't want to do that.” He squeezed her neck harder. “Do as I say.” He twisted her arm back more, sending a shooting pain into her shoulder, then unexpectedly shoved her to the ground and ran, disappearing around a corner.
Shaking with fear and rage, Mattie pushed to her feet. Life was supposed to be better here. Wasn't there any place that was safe?
Mattie stared at the spot she'd last seen the man, then shouted at the empty street. “I'm not leaving! I'm not!”
Chapter 17
DAYS PASSED AND WHOEVER WAYLAID MATTIE DIDN'T REAPPEAR. THE threatening notes and personal bullying decreased, and it seemed that people had lost interest.
Still, Mattie never went out without watching for the man who had attacked her. Occasionally she would see someone wearing a trench coat similar to the one her assailant had worn, and she'd wonder if it might be him. Finally she resolved she'd never know who had come at her out of the dark and decided it was time to put her fears behind her. Life needed to return to normal. Mattie did her best to go about daily activities as if nothing had ever happened.
On a Saturday morning, two weeks after the attack, Mattie and Meryl sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, nibbling on buttered toast, and reading the morning newspaper. A knock reverberated at the door.
“Now, who could that be?” Meryl asked, sounding bored. Two more sharp raps sounded. She folded the paper and headed for the door. Before she reached it, the knocking resumed. “I'm coming,” she said irritably, yanking open the door.
Two policemen, straight-backed and stiff, stood in the hallway. One was tall and looked to be in his early thirties. The other was short and much older. His stomach pressed against a blue shirt and drooped over his belt. “I'm Officer Hewitt, and this is Officer Decker.” He nodded at his younger partner. “We're looking for a Mattie Lawson.”
Meryl didn't reply.
“Is she here?” The officer peered through heavy glasses resting on a bulbous nose.
Mattie's heart raced in her chest. Why would the police want to talk to her?
Resting a hand on one hip, Meryl asked, “And may I know why you wish to speak to her?”
“We have some questions for Miss Lawson,” Decker said.
“I'm Mattie Lawson.” She joined Meryl at the door and pressed her hand against her stomach, hoping to quiet its flip-flopping.
Both men eyed her closely. “You'll need to come with us,” Officer Hewitt said.
“Go with you where? Why?”
“We need you to come to the station and answer some questions.”
“But I haven't done anything,” Mattie said, panic mounting.
“We'll wait while you dress,” Hewitt said resolutely, then rocked back on his heels.
Unable to believe what was happening, Mattie stared at the men. “Can't you tell me what this is about?”
His voice prickly, Officer Decker said, “All that will be answered at the station. And we don't have all day.”
She had no choice. “I'll come with you; just give me a few minutes.” Mattie retreated to her room, and with shaking hands, removed her bathrobe and pajamas, then dressed quickly.
“Mattie,” Meryl said, rapping softly on her door. “Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
Meryl walked into the room, dressed and coiffed. “I'm going with you. Those two aren't going to cart off my best friend, especially when we don't even know why.”
Mattie felt like hugging Meryl. “What's happening?” she asked, her voice quaking. “Why would they want me? Do you think this has anything to do with the threats I've been getting about being Japanese?”
“Maybe.” She studied her friend. “You don't really look Japanese. Either way, we'll get this straightened out.” She hugged Mattie. “Try not to worry. I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding.”
Pulling a brush through her hair, Mattie stopped and gazed at herself in the mirror. Could she be mistaken for someone of Japanese ancestry? No, she decided, then reluctantly returned to the front room and the waiting police officers.
Meryl laid a protective arm around Mattie's shoulders. “Why does she have to go with you? Can't you ask your questions here?”
“Standard procedure, ma'am.” Officer Hewitt pushed up his glasses. “We've had reports that she's Japanese, and we can't take chances. All Japanese citizens have been moved to relocation camps, and for good reason. We've got to be careful about spies. They've been found all along the coast.” He shifted his gaze to Mattie. “Why didn't you register?”
“I'm not Japanese.”
Both officers scrutinized Mattie. Hewitt seemed to be in charge. “You look like a Jap.”
“She does not,” Meryl said. “Don't you know what a Japanese person looks like?”
“I'm Alaska native. That's why my hair and eyes are dark.”
“Your eyes look kind of slanted to me.”
“I'm not Japanese!”
“That's not for me to decide, missy.”
Mattie's panic grew. “Please. I promise not to go anywhere. Let me stay here until this mistake is cleared up.”
Both men smiled, seeming amused. “Just stay, huh? And we're supposed to believe you'll be here when we come back?” Officer Decker smirked.
“Yes. I have nowhere to go.”
“Enough,” officer Hewitt said, taking her arm. “Come with us.” He led her into the corridor and steered her toward the stairs.
Meryl closed the door and locked it, then followed. “I'm coming with you.”
“You're not allowed in the squad car,” Decker said. “You'll have to find your own way to the station.”
“I'll be there just as soon as I can,” Meryl promised Mattie. “Please don't lose hope.”
Mattie managed a tremulous smile before being maneuvered down the stairs and through the front doors. Officer Hewitt pushed her into the back seat of the car, closed the door, and took his place behind the wheel. Meryl remained on the sidewalk and watched as they pulled away.
“This is a terrible mistake. I'm not Japanese. I'm from Alaska.” Fighting tears, she added, “Please, you have to believe me.”
“We don't have to believe nothin',” Hewitt said. “Our job is to protect this city and this country, and any Jap roaming around free is a danger to the United States. There's a war going on. Remember?”
Knowing she would get nowhere with these men, Mattie sat back. She breathed slowly, hoping to quiet her nerves, and stared out the window. What was she going to do? Father, how could you let this happen? Mattie wanted to crawl inside herself, except even there she would find no solace. She hated who she was. Now she'd be forced to defend her identity, one she'd done her best to conceal. It was hard to imagine that she'd be forced to use her heritage as a provision for release.
After arriving at the police station, Mattie was photographed and fingerprinted. She felt like a criminal. No one spoke to her, except to give instructions. After all the procedures were completed, she was seated in front of a desk where a police officer sat at a typewriter, punching the keys with his index fingers. He ignored her.
When he stopped typing, he didn't look at her right away. Instead, he removed a pack of smokes from his pocket and thumped out a single cigarette. After tapping it on the corner of his desk, he lit it and took a long drag. Smoke swirled around him as he settled droopy eyes on Mattie. “So, what's your story? How did they miss you when the rest of the Japs were collared?”
“Miss me?”
“Yeah.” His eyes sparked with interest. “Were you hiding? What were you up to?”
“Nothing. I'm not Japanese. I'm an Alaska native. My family lives in Alaska. You can call my mother. She'll tell you.”
The policeman leaned toward Mattie, peering at her. “Well, I got to say, you don't look like a Jap.” He pulled open a drawer, lifted out a folded form, and slid it across the desk. “Fill this out.” He handed her a pencil.
