Free The Samurai's Daughter by Sujata Massey

I’ve wanted this.” He glanced at my parents and said, “I’ve asked her repeatedly. She’s just, um, delayed her decision.”
    â€œPlease excuse me,” Manami blurted. “Then you may have your family moment.”
    â€œManami, I apologize. It was a lovely dinner, Mom. I’m sorry, but I have to take a break.” I stood up, ignoring the napkin that had fallen from my lap to the floor. I had to leave. I felt utterly humiliated that my father had called Hugh on the carpet about our relationship within an hour of their renewed contact. Now I was beginning to get a sense of why Eric Gan had been so terrified of the man he called the daimyo.
    â€œWhere are you going, honey? It’s raining!” my mother called as I headed for the front door. Everyone else was frozen at the table.
    â€œAnywhere but here!”
    Hugh followed me to the door and caught me by the arm. “I’m not going out, and I wish you wouldn’t either.”
    â€œBut what are you going to do alone with them?” I was aghast.
    â€œI’m not alone—Manami’s here, and I’ll ask her to help me wash up. And then I’ll make tea for everyone. After I’ve got enough caffeine and sugar in me, I’ll try to find something to say to your father that might convince him I’m not a gold-digging, ambulance-chasing bastard.”
    â€œOh, Hugh. You don’t need to try.” Even though we were clearly visible to my parents, sitting thirty feet away in the dining room, I gave him a quick kiss and whispered that I’d sneak up to his room later to find out how things had gone. Then, loudly, so they could hear, I said, “I’m just going to walk a few blocks to clear my head. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
    â€œIs it safe to walk around here in the dark?” Hugh asked.
    â€œSafe as houses. There’s a carolers’ group going around, anyway—I’ll trail them.”
    Â 
    I walked around behind a bunch of people, half dressed in North Face jackets, the others in fur, singing “Good King Wenceslas”—it was an upscale caroling group, with an emphasis on English and Latin songs. Despite the mist, I didn’t cool off. I knew I was going back to a house where my normally mild-mannered father wasplanning to engage in a long, drawn-out process of tormenting both my lover and me. God rest ye, merry gentlemen, indeed.
    When I rapped on the door a half hour later and my mother opened it, everything was still. The dining room had been cleaned up, and I couldn’t see my father or Hugh in the front parlor.
    â€œYour father’s reading in the library,” my mother said in a low voice. “Hugh went to bed. And so did Manami.”
    â€œNot together, I hope.”
    â€œWhat kind of a comment is that?” my mother demanded. “Manami’s a nice girl.”
    â€œSo am I,” I retorted. “Why didn’t you let Hugh stay in my room?”
    My mother wrapped an arm around me. “Don’t fret. It will just take time. Your father’s seen himself as the primary man in your life for almost thirty years. And Hugh has his own issues to work through.”
    â€œSuch as?” Of course, Hugh wasn’t perfect, but I was the only one allowed to say that.
    â€œWhen Hugh knew you in Japan, he thought you were a poor girl, didn’t he?”
    â€œMom, nobody says ‘poor’ anymore, they say ‘low income.’ And I have no idea what he thought—”
    â€œWell, in Tokyo you live rather modestly, but now he’s entered your family home and been hit over the head with the understanding that you grew up with plenty of comforts.” My mother stroked a stray hair away from my forehead. “Put yourself in the poor man’s place. He might feel he needs to prove that he’s got the resources to care for you properly. The last thing he’d want to do is give us the