have made you some nabe. A traditional Japanese food.”
Mattie leaned forward as Akiko removed the pot’s lid. Inside, a dark, steaming broth contained cabbage, bok choy, boiled eggs, mushrooms, shrimp, clams, and fish. Though Mattie had never seen such ingredients in the same dish, the smell emanating toward her couldn’t have been more savory. The clams were opening slowly, as if Akiko had just put them into the boiling soup.
“Eating nabe together is an old Japanese tradition,” Akiko said. “We believe that sitting close together, and eating from the same pot, will make us even better friends.”
“A beaut of a tradition,” Ian replied, lifting a beer bottle to refill Chie’s glass. “Compai.”
“Compai.”
The glasses clinked and the new acquaintances began to eat, using oversized chopsticks to pluck morsels from the stew. Chie appeared to drink more than she ate, her laughter growing louder. She often swayed to the music and was continuously handing Mattie more food, treating Mattie as if she were her granddaughter. While Mattie and Chie smiled and bantered, Ian and Akiko spoke about how Japan had changed over the past fifteen years. Some of the changes, like equality for women, Akiko spoke about with pride. Other transformations, such as increasing crime, she lamented. She asked many questions about Ian’s time in Kyoto and was fascinated by his experiences. As they spoke, Ian noticed that Mattie often glanced at Akiko, and sometimes at the nearby shrine and portrait. The pot of nabe was finally emptied, and Chie stood up, bowed, and disappeared into the kitchen.
“We should help her,” Ian said, starting to rise.
Akiko shook her head. “Please sit, Ian-san. She will be much happier if you remain here.”
“But I’m sure there’s a heap of work to do.”
“You are right. But she wants to contribute to our house. If she does not, then she will worry that she is a burden to me.” Akiko smiled and refilled their glasses with green tea, which they had begun to drink. “Are you excited for your trip tomorrow to Kyoto?”
Ian nodded, though he wasn’t looking forward to visiting the city where Kate and he fell in love. Too many memories resided there, memories that would bring him more pain than pleasure. “I reckon Mattie will fancy her first bullet train ride.”
“I am sure that she will.”
Mattie sipped her tea, studying their hostess. “Thank you for inviting us for dinner, Akiko-san.”
“It is our pleasure to have you. And thank you for teaching my class today. I am sure that my students will be talking about you for a long time to come. My students work so hard. It made me happy, to hear them laugh.”
“Akiko-san?”
“Yes, Mattie-chan?”
“Can I ask you something?”
Akiko set down her tea. “Of course. Anything you wish.”
“Is that your father?” Mattie wondered, pointing to the picture.
“Yes. Although he was a much happier man than he looks to be in that photograph.”
“How old were you . . . when he died?”
“That was twelve years ago, Mattie-chan. I was thirty-four years old.”
Mattie shifted on her cushion. “You seem . . . so happy now. How are you so happy?”
Ian had told Akiko about his wife’s death, and the Japanese woman nodded to Mattie. “Not a single day goes by without me seeing my father’s photograph and wishing that he was here,” she said. “I will always miss him. But I have my mother and my students. My life is good.”
“It is?”
“Yes. I am content.”
“That’s nice,” Mattie replied softly, looking down, wondering why she felt so lost without her mother, why she couldn’t be content like Akiko.
“Now may I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
“Do you know what I see, when I look at you?”
“Me?”
“I see a girl who will soon be a young woman. And that woman, I am sure, will be like her mother. She may have her own children someday. And I think she will be so pleased.”
Mattie looked up. “You do?”
“Yes,” Akiko said, smiling. “My own life, I know, has been a changing of the seasons. My mother and I have spoken of this many times.”
“How was your life . . . a changing of the seasons?”
Akiko glanced at Ian, who bowed ever so slightly to her. “I was a child in the spring,” she said, “when the cherry blossoms filled the trees. And then the rains and typhoons of summer came, and sometimes I had to be careful. That is what I tell my students now—do not be afraid to splash in the puddles, but also do not forget to watch the sky.”