“My hand bleed.” Mrs. Moriyama held up her palm, as if to show him. “Husband say we come to Imperial Valley. Make our own farm.”

“My father was always ambitious,” Masa said. Mrs. Moriyama flashed her a look that Amarjeet did not know how to read. There was another exchange in Japanese. “She says that together they planted strawberries, peas. My sister and I were small. We were put to work too. But my father always gets the credit.”

Amarjeet kept his face expressionless.

“I never want come here,” Mrs. Moriyama said, suddenly fierce. Her daughter interrupted, but Mrs. Moriyama again waved her away.

“I come here. I wear western clothing. I want women know I smart. I come here. I go Christian church on Sunday and wear a hat. Hat.” Her hand knocked the teacup, but the tea didn’t spill. “Christian church, but I no understand English. Because—we must live? Other women must know I smart. For Masa. For Yuki.” Her eyes were glistening now, bright. “But, when I need peace, I go to Buddhist temple.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and smothered her eyes. “Cannot change. Cannot change the truth. But, we must live?”

Masa’s and Amarjeet’s eyes met. Mrs. Moriyama did not seem to notice. When she spoke again, she had collected herself.

“Haruo was smart boy. That was why other mothers accept me.” She seemed to gather herself together, sit taller. “Tell me truth, Amarjeet-san,” she said quietly. “Did he have girl in town?”

Amarjeet glanced again at Masa. Her eyes darted away. “Don’t answer,” she said sharply. “My mother won’t accept—”

“Yes,” he said. Even after all Harry’s hiding, all the ways he had protected his parents, he would have wanted his mother to know.

He heard Masa release a breath.

“Who was she?” Mrs. Moriyama asked.

He hesitated for only a moment. “Anna Halliday. The daughter of the school superintendent. We were in school together.”

The silence was heavy.

The expression on Mrs. Moriyama’s face shifted. She would know too that Anna’s father had run for mayor the year before. “Tell me, Anna-san care for Haruo?”

“He wrote to her, Mrs. Moriyama,” Amarjeet said gently. “She wrote back. Her letters came every week. Sometimes two or three. He was frantic for them. After the war, they wanted to marry and move to Los Angeles.” Amarjeet looked at Mrs. Moriyama. “He gave me letters for her too.”

Masa stared intently at her mother, as if she was worried.

“White girl,” Mrs. Moriyama said. “And pretty girl.” She wiped her eyes. “He always have good taste.”

Amarjeet said nothing.

“You see Anna-san, yes? When you give letter?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. Her father won’t know.”

She handed him a box, neatly wrapped in a swatch of cream silk patterned with green leaves. Amarjeet untied it carefully. It was the same necklace that Amarjeet had handed to Mr. Moriyama the day before. Harry’s necklace. “Please give Anna-san this. You tell Anna-san it from Haruo family. You tell Anna-san. We know Haruo want it.” She wiped her eyes. “Please remember Haruo. You tell Anna-san.”