Garden of Her Heart (Hearts of the War Book 1) Read online

  Sweet peas and ivy climbed over the privet-lined fence, creating a thick barrier. More stones presented a walkway parallel to the fence for the length of a few hundred yards. Rock walked along it one way until it ended at a stone bench. He turned and followed it the other direction until the last stone disappeared beneath a large azalea bush. Perplexed by the reason for the footpath and its sudden end, he took a few steps back to study his surroundings. The fence sagged in an area to his immediate right. It seemed odd and out of place with the rest of the immaculately tended farm.

  Curious if the wood had rotted, he reached out to feel the post. At his touch, a small gate swung open. Privets planted in concealed containers attached to the gate hid its true purpose.

  Rock stepped through the opening in the fence, carefully shutting the gate behind him. He followed a narrow, almost invisible trail as it wound up the side of the mountain.

  Several times in the past week, Miko had disappeared. Rock had assumed she worked in the barn or one of the outbuildings. As soon as he no longer required constant care, she’d taken to sleeping somewhere other than in the house. He couldn’t help but notice the empty bedroom next to his she’d formerly occupied. He’d tried to ask her about it, but she’d avoided answering.

  Perhaps she climbed up this trail to think or meditate. Maybe she slept in a tent up on the mountain.

  For the most part, Miko was a quiet, private person. She had lighthearted moments, though. He smiled as he remembered her good-natured, relaxed demeanor with Petey the previous afternoon. She needed more opportunities to be carefree and full of the playfulness of youth.

  Abruptly, he considered her age. He’d be twenty-nine in September, but he didn’t think she was quite that old. Yet she seemed wise and responsible, far more so than her years. By the fashionable way she dressed, the smooth creaminess of her skin, and her impeccable posture, he guessed her to be in her mid-twenties.

  As he climbed the steep trail, Rock stopped twice to catch his breath. Below him, the house and buildings of the farm grew smaller and smaller.

  At the top of the hill, he encountered a tall fortress-like fence. Anyone with plans to scale it would have to drag a long ladder up the trail.

  Fortunately, a gate stood open, so he walked inside. Unprepared for the magnificence that greeted him, he looked out over an elaborate Japanese garden, complete with a waterfall and stream, bridge-covered ponds teeming with colorful carp, stone lanterns and benches, walkways, vibrant blooming plants, and trees. So many trees. Oaks, maples, pines and flowering plums were among those he easily recognized.

  Awed, he ambled forward, taking in the splendid, tranquil beauty of the garden. It reminded him of Trinidad, where he’d enjoyed the profusion of flowers, trees, and birds.

  He followed a stone walkway up a slight incline and around a screen of trees, breathing in the earthy aroma of the garden mingling with the sweet, zesty fragrance of the flowers. The air tasted green and refreshing, bursting with life.

  Rock stepped into a clearing, surprised to discover a traditional Japanese home. Weeping cherry trees, limbs heavy with pink blossoms, flanked the house like sentinels bedecked for a party.

  His boots crunched on the gravel pathway as he approached the house. Posts and lintels supported a gently sloped roof. The curved eaves extended far beyond the walls of the house, covering what looked like a veranda. Heavy storm shutters stood ready to keep out inclement weather.

  Wary of intruding, but fascinated by his discovery, he stood outside and raised his voice. “Miko? Are you here, Miko?”

  Almost immediately, she appeared in the doorway, shocked to see him. “What are you doing here?”

  He grinned. “I got back from the farm and looked everywhere for you. By accident, I found your gate.” He glanced behind him and waved a hand, as though to encompass the entire garden. “What is this place?”

  “The home of my ancestors and the garden of my heart.” Miko motioned him forward. “Take off your boots, then you may come inside.”

  Quickly, Rock removed his boots and followed her up the steps.

  Miko pointed behind them to the garden. “My great-grandparents arrived in the area in 1882. My great-grandfather took any work available to him and saved every penny he didn’t have to spend. Within a few years, my great-grandparents saved enough to purchase a quarter section of land. Most people thought they were crazy for buying a hill so thickly covered in brush and trees; the land was best suited for a lumber business. They cleared the acres at the bottom of the hill, planted fruit trees, and tilled the ground for a big garden. The second year they were here, they added a produce stand. Eventually, Granddad and Grandma built a small house down below. After my great-grandparents passed away, they built the yellow house and a new produce stand.”

  “What about this house, Miko?” Rock asked as he followed her inside.

  “My great-grandparents wanted to honor their ancestry, so the house and garden here keep with tradition. The two of them began the work to create this hilltop garden not long after they bought the land. My grandparents finished it. Granddad and I both enjoy working in the garden to maintain what our family strived so hard to create. That’s why a stranger can’t have this land, Rock. They wouldn’t care about the garden my great-grandparents labored so hard to build out of nothing but thick trees and scraggly brush.”

  She led him down a corridor lined with screens made of wooden lattice covered with paper. The screens comprised both the interior and exterior walls. “Many people would log the trees and sell the land instead of preserving the beauty of this place.”

  Intrigued by the house, he absently nodded in agreement.

  Miko stopped. “You are in the engawa, an outer corridor that wraps around a home, like a veranda. Traditionally, a Japanese home does not use glass. A shoji screen…” she pushed one of the panels back and revealed a light-saturated room “… is a sliding panel made of translucent paper set in a wooden frame. It provides shelter and privacy, and allows us to manipulate the natural light.”

  Rock looked into the room, noticing a mat on the floor and a low table with cushions around it.

  Miko pointed to the mat. “Tatami are rice straw mats made for the floors. When they are new, they have the most wonderful smell. My great-grandmother made that one.”

  She led him to a room that had to be the kitchen. In the center was a sunken hearth. “The irori, or hearth, is used not only for cooking, but also to heat the home,” she explained, then continued on with her tour.

  Two sleeping rooms featured mats on the floors with bedding on top of them. He noticed Miko appeared to have moved into one of the rooms. A robe he’d seen her wear hung on a hook on the wall.

  “Are you sleeping here?” Rock questioned. “I noticed you moved out of the house. If that’s on my account, I’ll sleep in the barn or somewhere else.”

  Miko shook her head. “No, Rock, you need a proper bed to sleep in to regain your health and I don’t mind staying here. Now that you’re better, it isn’t right for us to sleep under the same roof.” A slight blush pinked her cheeks as she spoke. Rock decided she’d never looked lovelier.

  Unable to pinpoint the moment it had happened, he’d gone from viewing Miko as an unusually tall, foreign-appearing stranger to a woman who interested him more than any he could ever recall. From the top of her head of gleaming black hair to her fashionably clad toes, he thought she was one of the most graceful, lovely women he’d ever seen.

  He shrugged. “If you change your mind, let me know. Amos and Andy would let me bunk with them.”

  “I’m sure they would,” she said with a grin. The two cows had quickly taken to him when he’d declared it his job to handle the milking. Miko hadn’t argued because the motion of squeezing milk from the cows provided excellent therapy for his injured arm and hand. Still, he tired easily, so she ended up milking at least one of them.

  A short, deep wooden tub and shower filled the last room of the house. “It is our traditio
n to take a shower first before entering the tub. You never take soap into the tub. It isn’t meant as a place to wash your body, but to relax and rejuvenate.”

  Rock grinned. “If I ever got folded into that tub, I’d never get myself out.” The tub had to be all of three feet deep, but was barely wider than his shoulders.

  Miko laughed. “It can be a challenge for one who is tall.”

  Involuntarily, his gaze dropped to her legs. Wide-legged navy trousers obstructed his view, although they complemented the white blouse she wore.

  Rock wondered when he’d come to think of her legs as shapely and just how long he’d been paying such close attention to her attire. Miko had an extensive assortment of clothing and all he’d seen was of fine quality. According to Miko, her father owned a real estate business and did “well” in his business endeavors. From the finely crafted furnishings stored in the storage building to the expensive clothes she wore, Rock assumed her father had done a sight better than “well” in his business dealings.

  Over the years, her grandparents had also made good money with their produce business. He’d done the math, calculating the expenses and income from the enterprise. Astounded by the projected numbers, he’d conferred with Miko about his accuracy. She assured him his speculations were close to what her family made selling the fruits of their labors, close to what he should make if he purchased the farm.

  The nice bungalow he currently called home wasn’t one that spoke of wealth or prestige. It was a homey, humble dwelling, filled with small, pleasant comforts. Other than the hand-carved screen door on the back entrance that featured a crane in a grouping of cattails, nothing from the outside of the house even hinted that a Japanese family owned it.

  From the road, it looked like any other well-kept, prosperous farm. Even inside the house, few items hinted at a Japanese ancestry. The kitchen, done in cobalt blue and white, was modern and sleek, as was the bathroom. The bedrooms and living room were welcoming, familiar places to rest.

  Yet, as Rock stood inside the house her great-grandparents had built, he couldn’t help but think highly of the detail and expert craftsmanship that had gone into creating the home.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this place, Miko. It’s amazing.”

  She dipped her head, delighted he saw the exquisiteness of the old house. “I came up here to search for the deed to the place. Granddad hid it well,” she said, taking a folded packet of papers from her pocket.

  Rock grinned. “At least you found it. I began to think locating the deed was a lost cause.” He followed as she stepped back into the corridor and slid the screen shut behind her, closing the room.

  She walked back around to the entry where they had left their shoes and slipped hers on. “We don’t have time to wander the full garden today, but you’re welcome to come up here another time and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  “I’d love it,” Rock said, studying a pine tree that had been twisted and trimmed into a shape that reminded him of a big umbrella. He pointed to the waterfall in the distance behind it. “Is the waterfall natural?”

  Miko glanced toward the water that streamed down from higher up the mountain and landed in a clear pool. “It is, and so is the stream that feeds from it. Granddad figured out a way to run the stream water down to the orchard to keep it watered. His system is why we haven’t had to do much with the trees out there yet.”

  Rock tossed her a teasing look. “And here I thought it was the rain we had this spring.”

  “The rain certainly helps, but the trees have access to the water and that keeps the fruit sweet even when we get a hot, dry spell in the summer.” Miko cut across a pond by stepping on a series of fat round stones. Big orange-and-white carp swam through the water.

  Like a youngster on a grand adventure, Rock trailed after her, agog at the colorful fish. “May we have a picnic up here sometime?”

  Miko glanced back at him. “As Petey would say, ‘You bet your life on it!’”

  He laughed and grabbed her hand in his when she stumbled on a loose rock, helping her regain her balance.

  Her gaze fell to his hand, then rose to his eyes, her own dark orbs full of unspoken questions.

  Rather than release her fingers, Rock gently squeezed them and continued toward the high fence that kept the fortress of the secret garden safe.

  “Who else knows about the garden?” he asked as they walked across a wooden bridge spanning a smaller pond.

  “Other than my family? No one.” Her eyes held his as she stared at him. “No one, until you.”

  “I promise to take the secret of your garden to my grave, Miko. With the state of things as they are, most Americans wouldn’t see the beauty of it, just the foreignness.”

  “And that’s why it’s always been a secret.” Miko pulled the gate closed and locked it. Together, they made their way down the hill. While she secured the gate so it blended flawlessly into the rest of the fence, Rock looked upward. The canopy of trees overhead effectively camouflaged the path they’d just traversed.

  Rock gave one last glance up the hill before turning to Miko. “Does the rest of your family work in the garden?”

  Miko laughed and moved along the stone path behind the barn. “No. My grandmother’s knees prohibit her from making the climb. Papa is always too busy, and Tommy doesn’t have the patience to do the work. The last thing my sister wants to do when she and her family come to visit is go to the garden. And Mother would rather be caught in nothing but her underwear in the middle of Meier & Frank’s department store than set foot in it.”

  Rock chuckled. “I look forward to meeting your family. Did you know Clark Gable worked at Meier & Frank selling ties before he made it big in Hollywood?”

  She nodded. “My grandmother is convinced he waited on her twice when she was purchasing ties for Granddad. It’s so sad about his wife’s tragic death.” Miko appeared distraught as she walked toward the house. “Carole Lombard was such a fine actress.”

  “I heard about her plane crashing. Wasn’t she on a war bond tour?” He opened the back door and held it for her as she walked inside.

  “She was. The news reports said she raised around two million in war bond sales and was on her way home.” Miko stared at the trunks Rock had carried inside and left in the kitchen before he’d gone in search of her. A saucy grin accompanied the teasing tilt of her head. “Moving in, Captain?”

  He took a step closer to her. “I am, if you’re sure you want me to go ahead with our plans.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind. I trust you, Rock. You’ll keep the farm safe until Granddad can return.” She opened the refrigerator and perused the contents. “Why don’t you put those in your room while I make lunch?”

  “Yes, ma’am. If you have any of that leftover ham, I’d sure enjoy a sandwich. Your bread is as light and soft as any I’ve ever eaten.”

  He lifted a trunk, carrying most of the weight with his right hand as he took it to the bedroom she referred to as his.

  Covertly, Miko watched as he moved the trunks, intrigued by the play of muscles visible beneath the white T-shirt he wore. His uniform shirt hung over the back of a chair, where he’d most likely left it when he returned from collecting his belongings at his farm.

  It seemed so strange to her that a man who was a virtual stranger would willingly leave behind a farm he owned free and clear to make sure her family’s farm wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

  Rock was a good, fine man, one she greatly admired.

  One she was beginning to love.

  Falling for the soldier would only end in heartbreak, especially when she would soon leave to join her family at the assembly center. No good would come from harboring romantic notions for Rock.

  Even if, by some miracle, he returned her feelings, Oregon didn’t allow mixed-race marriages. Despite how American Miko might feel, the fact remained that she was one hundred percent Japanese, at least in the eyes of the law and of the majority of Americans.<
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  Dismayed by the notion of marriage, she shifted her attention to making thick ham sandwiches and potato salad for lunch.

  Rock returned to the kitchen dressed in worn Levi’s and a soft cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. “It’s sure nice to be back in my civvies.”

  At her questioning look, he rubbed a hand down the front of his jeans. “Civilian clothes.”

  “Did you find everything you needed at your farm?” She poured him a glass of milk and filled a glass of water for herself, setting both on the table by their plates.

  “I did. Bert, he’s the guy who leases it, has done a swell job maintaining the buildings. The farm ground looks well tended, too. It’s in good hands for now.”

  “I’m glad, Rock. I’m sure it helps you rest easier knowing your family farm has been well cared for.”

  He nodded and took her hand in his, prepared to offer grace. “It does help me rest easier.”

  Hungry, he finished the first sandwich and started on a second, then motioned outside to the truck he had yet to return to the storage building. “Your grandpa’s truck handles well. I was tempted to lean into the gas and see what it would do, but I stuck to thirty-five piddling miles an hour the whole way.”

  Miko giggled. “Perhaps it’s best you didn’t take my car, then. It’s hard not to zip right on down the road.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why, Miss Nishimura, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a speedster.”

  “I might even confess to it, if you didn’t know better. If I wanted to go slow, I wouldn’t have purchased that Packard.” She took a bite of her sandwich and coquettishly batted her eyelashes at him.

  Rock tipped his head to the side and smirked. “Golly, I’ve never had lunch with a fast girl before. I might need to note this day on the calendar.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the Coca-Cola calendar hanging on the wall by the telephone.

  Miko bristled, wondering if he realized what he implied. “I’ll have you know, Captain Laroux, that I am not nor have I ever been a fast girl.”