Bridge of Scarlet Leaves Read Online Free PDF

rattle made of an abacus had established the reference since Lane’s birth. “Therefore,” he added, “we are pleased the matchmaker has found you a suitable bride, and he will make the necessary arrangements.”
    Bride.
    Arrangements.
    The sentence replayed in Lane’s mind, pulling him back to the original subject.
    “She comes from noble lineage,” his father explained. “The matchmaker has ruled out all the usual imperfections—tuberculosis, barrenness, and such. Her family’s financial troubles make your pairing a sensible one. Her younger sister has found a match as well, so you must marry first. The family will sail over from Tokyo in time for the new year.”
    “Hopefully,” his mother muttered, “our son will look presentable by then.”
    Lane scarcely registered the gouge. His mind was too consumed with the timetable his father had laid out. The rush of it all, the solidity. “But—what about school? I still have a whole semester left.”
    “She will live with us after the wedding,” his father said with a small nod to his wife, as if crediting the source of the solution. “Once you graduate, you may make other plans if you wish.”
    Lane’s thoughts moved in a rapid tumble, blending into a mass of confusion. From that blur emerged a simple voice of reason. Tell them the truth. Confess, as you’ve wanted to all along.
    Before he could reconsider, he tossed out his protest. “I can’t. I’m in love with somebody else.”
    Tension of a new level swept through the room, conquering every inch of space. No one moved. No one spoke.
    Lane wondered if anyone was breathing.
    “You’ve met her before,” he said, easing them in. “She grew up here, in Boyle Heights. She’s a talented violinist. And she’s charming and beautiful, responsible ...”
    “Her name?” Lane’s mother spoke through lips that barely moved.
    “Maddie.”
    “Maddie,” she repeated as if judging the name by its taste, expecting a release of bitterness. The women had crossed paths on only a few occasions, during which his mother sustained disinterest. “I do not know of this girl. Who is her family?”
    First names meant little in their community; at least a third of the “Nisei,” those born in America to Japanese immigrants, were called George or Mary. All significance lay in the surname, an indication of nobility, of lineage. Of race.
    “If you mean Maddie’s last name,” Lane hazarded to admit, “it’s Kern.”
    His mother blanched. The lines spanning his father’s brow deepened.
    “She’s TJ’s sister,” Lane added, hoping their fondness of his friend would somehow permit a bending of their rules. Yet their scowls made clear there was no exception.
    “You have made fools of us,” she hissed.
    “Why? Because she’s not Japanese?”
    There was no reply. Which said everything.
    “Father, you’re the one who’s so proud of your kids being American. That’s half the reason you came to this country. So why should it matter where Maddie’s parents are from?”
    Lane’s mother patted her chest, grumbling under her breath, until her husband raised his hand, stilling her. His rigid words hovered above the quiet. “The final decision has been made.”
    A humorless laugh shot from Lane’s throat. “A decision I haven’t been a part of.” He rose to his feet. “Shouldn’t I have a say in my own future?”
    “This is not about you alone,” his father said, meeting his stance. “This is about the honor you bring to your family.”
    “What if I say no? What if I want to make my own choices?”
    When his father hesitated, his mother supplied the answer from her seat. “Then you will disgrace this family. And you will not be welcome in this home. Ever.”
    Lane felt the stab of her tenacity, a knife between the ribs. He stared at his father in a desperate plea for support. Surely the man wouldn’t be willing to disown his only son. Emotions aside, a male to carry on the name and bloodline was a