No Quiet Water

No Quiet Water Shirley Miller Kamada © Copyright Shirley Miller Kamada 2023 Black Rose Writing | Texas © 2023 by Shirley Miller Kamada All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal. The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author. First digital version All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Print ISBN: 978-1-68513-097-8 PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING www.blackrosewriting.com Print edition produced in the United States of America For Isao Kamada and Yuriko Yamamoto Kamada. And for Jimmy. Acknowledgements Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Acknowledgements CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CHAPTER FORTY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CHAPTER FORTY-THREE CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FORTY-NINE CHAPTER FIFTY CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE CHAPTER SIXTY CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE CHAPTER SEVENTY CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE AFTERWORD by Jimmy Kamada ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS RESOURCES FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ABOUT THE AUTHOR NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR ROSEVINE BAINBRIDGE ISLAND, WASHINGTON STATE, 1941 CHAPTER ONE FUMIO Fumio awoke to his father’s muffled footsteps padding toward the cast iron stove. He listened to the familiar sounds. The opening of the door in the stove’s side with its square pane of milky-clear mica. The small coal scuttle being used to add shiny, black chunks to stoke the fire. The door clanking shut, the scuttle thumping to the floor. A scrape of wood against wood told Fumio a chair had been pulled near the stove. His own chore coat would be hanging on its back. Soon, his door opened, and his father said, “Fumio! It is time to start the day. Those chores will not do themselves!” Now that he was ten, his chores started early in the morning instead of after school. Hunching his shoulders against the cold, Fumio crawled out of bed, jumped into his work clothes, pulled on a pair of thick socks, and hurried to the kitchen where he shoved his feet into rubber barn boots and his arms into the warmed coat. He zipped to his chin, then tugged on his gloves. Fumio followed his father as he stepped out onto the porch and switched on the yard light. To the left, sharp-edged shadows were cast by the barn, with its large implement-repair shop, and on the right, by the chicken yard’s rectangular wire-mesh enclosure and the coop, inhabited by a large flock of laying hens, plus one rooster. Flyer stood, muscles taut, ears erect, eyes fixed on Fumio, then headed straight for the chicken yard, bypassing the gate and veering toward the rear of the enclosure. Fumio and his father followed, walking behind the building and entering the dark space between the coop and a stand of trees bordering the roadway. The pre-dawn world was quiet except for their footsteps on fallen pine needles and twigs. Moonlight reflected off the coop’s white-washed planks, illuminating the earth at their feet. Flyer chuffed, his muzzle quivering. Near the toe of Fumio’s boot lay two feathers, one large, one small. Owl. He bent to study them, then straightened, peering into the darkness. Pulling off his gloves, Fumio reached down and touched the edge of the smaller feather before picking it up. He grasped the other feather between two fingers and lifted it. His eyes aimed a question toward his father, who nodded his approval. Fumio carried the feathers to the porch and tucked them under the doormat. . . . In the thin light of the winter morning—late November, almost December—Fumio quickly completed his chores, fed the chickens, rinsed and refilled their waterer. He imagined the winged predator up there circling, out of sight, waiting for another chance. At the poultry yard gate, he paused to be certain it was latched, scanned the sky one more time, then turned toward the house. He was late. As he ate breakfast, his mother placed his lunch box on the table. “Fumio, since Zachary is coming home with you after school, do you know what kind of snack he would like?” “I don’t know of any kind of snack Zachary would not like, Mother.” Fumio bit into a slice of toast and chewed. His father came inside and hung his coat near the door as Fumio carried his dishes to the counter beside the sink. “Running a little late, Son?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” Fumio took his school coat from a hook near the door, and pushed his arms into it. “But I will be on time for class.” He slung his bookbag over his shoulder. From her highchair, Kimiko waved, a small spoon gripped tight in her chubby, little-girl hand. “Bye-bye, Fumio! Happy day skooooool!” He looked back and waved. How quickly the last three years had passed, how quickly she’d gone from being snug in his mother’s arms to running so fast she was hard to catch. On the porch, Flyer sat waiting. “Ready, boy?” Fumio turned to lift the corner of the doormat. He removed the feathers and slipped them into his book bag and, Flyer following, went to the side of the