When I saw the car's headlights pull up to the reception area, I thought it was odd that someone might be arriving so late, in such bad weather. It had been snowing heavily and the Japanese aren't fond of traveling in the snow, nor did the inn get many guests in the winter. I heard muffled voices outside the door, but couldn't make out what they were saying.
Oh well, I'm sure Murada-san will tell me all about it in the morning.
I had been at the inn for a few days. A few months earlier, I came here on business and found great comfort in my friendship with Murada-san and inspiration from the mountain. It surprised me that I could return here, but I guess the positive forces outweighed my bittersweet memories. I never did, however, climb the stairs to the top floor to return to the room where we first stayed.
I sat at a table with a dim light in the front room, practicing my Japanese script. I had an old schoolbook in front of me and I was diligently copying the complicated characters one by one. It was essential that I learn to write, something I'd been avoiding. I had to learn them so I could continue living in Japan.
I'd been working for a travel agency, under the table at low wages; it was the best way for me to earn money. I used my fluency in English and Japanese to increase the American tourist trade for the owner. I had also referred quite a few Americans to Murada-san's inn, which is how I came to contact her again.
Stan and Michiko had helped me get the job, as well as a place to live after I'd stayed with them. Stan felt very bad about inadvertently alerting Dylan to my infidelity, although I assured him it was not his fault. Michiko and I became very close; I don't know how I would have survived without her. I had been sick quite a bit once the weather turned colder. I couldn't shake the flu and she did everything she could to help me. I still was coughing, and Murada-san said I was too thin.
I pulled my kimono around me tighter and grasped my cup of tea. The fire in the fireplace was dying, its heat diminishing. I gazed out the window at the snow, but I found it hard to take pleasure in its beauty. I made a point of not letting anything touch me deeply. That's how I got in trouble before.
I practiced a few more characters, but the cold made my fingers were stiff. I closed my book and turned off the light. A knock came at the door. "Come in," I said. Murada-san opened the door slightly and slipped inside. "I was just going to bed. Oh, who was that arriving so late, in such bad weather? Do you have new guests?" I asked.
"We have grown to be good friends, haven't we?"
I was puzzled by her response. "Well, yes we have. You have shown great kindness to me and I am grateful."
"Therefore, if I have done something in secret, with the intention of helping you, you will not be angry?"
"Murada-san, what on earth are you talking about?"
"Your husband was the one who just arrived."
I couldn't grasp the full meaning of what she had just told me.
My husband? Dylan?
The door opened. A figure entered, but I couldn't see the face. It wasn't Dylan though, I knew from the stature. Murada-san stood up to leave, patting him on the arm as she left the room. The figure came over to my chair. The dying embers cast a dim glow upon Sasha's face. I gasped aloud.
He took my hand. I looked away. My brain went numb.
"I've come to bring you home, sweetheart."
"Oh.... No. How can this...?"
He turned on the light, pulled up a chair and sat in front of me. I was immediately struck by his handsome face, but he seemed different somehow. His skin seemed so pale. His hair was longer. He looked older.
"I've been waiting for you, you know. Your penance is over now, you've paid for your crime."
"How did you track me down here?"
"Murada-san is very wise. She also cares about you very much, and I guess about me. She contacted me. She knew it was time for me to come for you. I also bring news that you should know about. Dylan isn't suffering alone anymore. He apparently is getting on quite well without you. He has moved in with a woman."
