“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.”

“I will, Mrs. Moriyama,” Amarjeet said. “I will.”

26

AMARJEET TOOK UP HIS OLD CHORES AT THE FARM. HE WORKED QUIETLY. Other than his moods, he was dependable; he did not say much and he was not too curious about what had happened while he was away. He enjoyed the children the most: Leela, who was now eight; Federico, who was a year and a half. Sometimes he would put Federico in the baby carriage and wheel him around the farm. Rosa gave birth to twins, Grace and José, and Amarjeet loved them too. He found comfort in the children’s openness, in their sadness and anger and happiness, which they showed without cover or restraint.

Once he overheard his aunt and uncle talking about him—Kishen pointing out to Jivan that his nephew had grown moody. That she found him staring out into the fields, seeing something that wasn’t there. That he had grown angry with her when she had asked if he would be home for dinner. “Be patient, Kishen-ji,” his uncle had said. “The boy has just returned from battle.”

Ram wanted to spend time with him now, in a way he had not wanted before.

“What was it like over there?” Ram asked him once, and Amarjeet did not know what to say.

“What shall I tell you?”

“How did Harry win his medal?”

Amarjeet told him. Then he spoke about the weather.