Red Berries, White Clouds, Blue Sky by Sandra Dallas Page A

sides of her face, however, and she looked as if something was wrong.
    “Come on, Mom, we’re late. We’re picking up Mrs.Hayashi and Ruth. Mrs. Hayashi is scared to go. Can you imagine?” Tomi wondered if Ruth was telling Mrs. Hayashi that Mom was scared. “You know everybody,” Tomi said to reassure her mother.
    “That doesn’t mean I can be a teacher.”
    “Sure you can.”
    Tomi wasn’t so sure, however. Mom had come a long way since leaving the farm, but she was a woman who disliked being the center of attention. Mom forced herself to complain to the officials about things in the camp that were wrong. But that was because she was concerned about Tomi and Hiro and Roy. She’d never before agreed to stand up before other women as a teacher.
    “You said you’d do it. So shikata ga nai . It can’t be helped now.” Tomi took Mom’s hand. “Besides, you have to be there for Mrs. Hayashi. She won’t go if you don’t.”
    Mom nodded, and Tomi smiled to herself, because she knew Mom would not let down a friend.
    Mrs. Hayashi was even more ill at ease than Mom when she left her apartment. Both women looked their best, with hats, and Mrs. Hayashi wore high-heeled shoes and even gloves. Still, they reluctantly followed their daughters down the street to one of the barracks buildingsthat had been turned into classrooms. “Maybe no one will come,” Mom whispered to Mrs. Hayashi.
    But the room was full of Japanese women who stood around a table talking. They were dressed up, too, as if this were an important occasion. When they saw Mom, they bowed and greeted her, some in English, some in Japanese. One woman had brought her daughter with her and said the girl could thread the needles.
    Mom bowed back and said, “Hello. I am Mrs. Itano.” Then, her hands shaking a little, she opened her paper sack and took out her scissors, needle, thread, and bits of fabric. “Welcome to our first quilting class. I am your teacher.”
    Tomi grinned at her. Mom was going to be all right.
    Tomi watched as Mom told the ladies to take out the scraps of fabric they had brought. When Mom was busy examining the pieces, Tomi nodded at Ruth. They would slip away and play. But as she started for the door, she heard Mom’s voice. “Tomi, stay please. Take a seat. You are going to be my star pupil.”
    Tomi sighed. She did not care about sewing, and she especially did not care about making quilts.
    “We will each make a pieced quilt,” Mom said. The ladies leaned forward to hear her. “Piecing is mostly squaresand triangles.” Mom held up a square of fabric and cut it on the diagonal, from upper right to lower left.
    The ladies nodded their understanding.
    Mom explained they would assemble the squares and triangles into a block. It would take many blocks to make a quilt.
    “I don’t have so much material,” one lady complained.
    Mom looked at the small stash of fabric the woman had brought, then glanced around the table. No one had enough for a quilt. She thought that over, then brightened. “I know. We will make one big quilt, all of us together.”
    “Who will get the quilt?” Mrs. Hayashi asked.
    “Maybe we draw straws,” another said.
    “Yes,” Mom said. “But it doesn’t seem fair if we all work on the quilt and only one keeps it.”
    “We could give it to the hospital,” Mrs. Hayashi suggested, and Mom nodded.
    “I know,” Tomi spoke up. “We can have a raffle. The money will go to the war effort.”
    The ladies smiled at each other and nodded. Mrs. Hayashi said, “It is a good idea. We can sell tickets for five cents. Maybe we will make enough money to buy a tank.”

1943 | CHAPTER ELEVEN
    SOLVING TWO PROBLEMS

    AS THEY left the quilt room, Tomi told Ruth, “I don’t think they’ll make enough money to buy a tank; maybe only a gun.”
    “Who cares if it’s only enough for a handful of bullets? This might be the first time I’ve seen Mother smile since Ben died,” Ruth said.
    Indeed, Mrs. Hayashi was