But Mrs. Moriyama waved her daughter aside. She leaned forward in her chair, hands clasped in her lap, and spoke herself.

“First I come here. I work fields,” she said, her eyes fixed on the table’s edge, her hand indicating the outdoors.

Amarjeet nodded.

“When husband come to Japan. Marry. Father not poor. But I come here, I work in fields. We must live?” She paused, making sure he understood. He nodded back.

“Her family in Kagoshima Prefecture was not poor. She never had to labor in the fields,” Masa said. “My father told her he owned a home here and had much money, but after they arrived she saw it was not so. They picked fruit in the Central Valley orchards for three years.”

“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?”