Free Autumn Bridge by Takashi Matsuoka Page A

Genji, which was another factor that had convinced Emily that the time to leave Japan had come.
    She had not yet told him of the offers of marriage she had received, nor had she given any indication of her decision to leave. She feared that if she told him prematurely, he would say or do something that would cause her fragile resolve to crumble. Love was compelling her to leave, but it could just as easily prevent her doing so. She was safe so long as Genji did not return her feelings. Life was painful, but it was pain she could bear. At least she was with him.
    Then the roses began to appear. What could it mean other than that Genji was beginning to develop feelings for her, the same kind of feelings she had long had for him? Her own fate did not concern her. She was willing to commit any sin, endure any condemnation, to truly be with him, so long as her presence helped him on the path toward Christian righteousness. What she most fervently did not want was to be an instrument of his injury. If she gave in to her feelings, it would cause no end of troubles for Genji, both among his own people and among Westerners, who would be revolted by the idea of an Oriental, lord or no lord, with a white wife. It would do great damage to Genji’s efforts to bring Japan into the family of civilized nations. Yet she could brush all that aside as well, if she could be certain they were part of the price paid for the salvation of his immortal soul. That was her dilemma. Would having her help save him, or push him another step toward his eternal damnation?
    “I see your secret admirer has brought you his daily rose,” Genji said.
    “He is certainly very stealthy,” Emily said. “No one has ever seen him, nor has he ever left the slightest hint of who he might be.” She knew she should stop there, but she could not, and added, “It’s certainly not very chivalrous of him.”
    “It was my understanding that such anonymous tokens of affection were considered quite proper in the West. Am I mistaken?”
    “A certain period of anonymity, perhaps. Six months somewhat pushes the matter from flattering to disturbing.”
    “How so?”
    “One begins to wonder why it has gone on so long with no indication of identity. Might there be, perhaps, a motivation that is not entirely healthy?”
    “Perhaps, for good reasons, your admirer cannot openly declare himself,” Genji said. “Perhaps admiring you, with no possibility of anything more, is the most he can hope for.”
    Before she could stop herself, she said, “If so, that is cowardly behavior.”
    Genji smiled. “An excess of courage, in the wrong circumstances, in the wrong place, and at the wrong time, can have far worse consequences than cowardice.”
    “That sounds like something quite opposite from what most samurai would say,” she said, then added with emphasis, “Lord Genji.”
    “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Perhaps I will have to give up my two swords and my topknot.”
    “But not today,” she said.
    “No, not today.”
    She stood and made a show of examining the sky. If she pushed him into an open declaration, any declaration, her path would be so much clearer. Was her love causing her to misinterpret what was no more than friendly regard from him? If so, the romantic crisis was imaginary, and hers alone.
    Emily said, “It may rain. Shall we dine indoors?”
    “As you wish.”
    She had prepared a variation on cucumber sandwiches, which she had recently sampled for the first time at the British embassy. She found the combination of vegetable slices, covered with a sauce of her own made of whipped egg yolks and cream, particularly refreshing in the humidity of the early Edo autumn. Genji was unusually quiet throughout the meal, which meant either that he was doing his best not to gag on food he found repulsive, or he was still thinking about the anonymous rose. To err on the side of caution, she decided to remove cucumber sandwiches from future menus.
    So far, her efforts to