"A fascinating story of forbidden love set during WWII"
Reviewed by Sharon Galligar Chance
Posted July 8, 2012
Women's Fiction | Historical
In 1941, Maddie Kern's life seemed laid out before her. A
gifted violinist, she was destined for great things in her
life. But she didn't count on falling in love with her
childhood friend, Lane Moritomo. The two young lovers had
to hide their relationship from her parents, and Maddie was
prepared to deal with their anger and disapproval. But when
events set into motion by the bombing of Pearl Harbor
threatened to tear Maddie and Lane apart, they did what any
young couple recklessly in love would do -- they eloped. Now, as the Japanese-American families of California are
viewed as the "enemy," Maddie must decide whether to stay
with her own family or follow Lane and his family as they
are sent to a war relocation camp. She chooses her husband
and moves into the camp that is surrounded by barbed wires
and tensions that threaten to erupt at any moment. As
Maddie struggles to help provide for Lane's family, Lane
volunteers to enlist in the Army to prove his allegiance to
the United States, and they are torn apart once again.
Would their love be strong enough to survive? Kristina McMorris pulls her readers back in time with this
thoughtful and heart-tugging story of two people and their
fight to overcome prejudice in order to be together. I never knew much about the Japanese internment camps
during World War II and was well-educated through
Kristina's story. Her characters, her descriptions, and her
remarkable story-telling skills bring to light details of
these camps that most people will find fascinating. A beautiful love story as well as a fascinating historical
story, BRIDGE OF SCARLET LEAVES is one story that will
linger with you long after the last page is turned.
SUMMARY
Los Angeles, 1941. Violinist Maddie Kern's life seemed destined to unfold with
the predictable elegance of a Bach concerto. Then she
fell in love with Lane Moritomo. Her brother's best friend,
Lane is the handsome, ambitious son of Japanese immigrants. Maddie was prepared for disapproval from their families, but
when Pearl Harbor is bombed the day after she and Lane
elope, the full force of their decision becomes apparent. In
the eyes of a fearful nation, Lane is no longer just an
outsider, but an enemy. When her husband is interned at a war relocation camp,
Maddie follows, sacrificing her Juilliard ambitions. Behind
barbed wire, tension simmers and the line between patriot
and traitor blurs. As Maddie strives for the hard-won
acceptance of her new family, Lane risks everything to prove
his allegiance to America, at tremendous cost. Skillfully capturing one of the most controversial episodes
in recent American history, Kristina McMorris draws readers
into a novel filled with triumphs and heartbreaking loss--an
authentic, moving testament to love, forgiveness, and the
enduring music of the human spirit.
ExcerptMay 1942 – Los Angeles, Calif.
Japanese American evacuation Engines awoke in the distance, a stagger of roars that
cinched Maddie's throat with panic. Her pace doubled in
speed. Her leather heels clicked a staccato rhythm on the
city sidewalk. She forced air in and out, in and out,
against the burn crawling up the walls of her lungs.
Nine o'clock, that's what Lane's roommate had said when
the operator connected his call that morning. Told her that
his conscience wouldn't let him ship off without at least
telling her Lane was in town, but if she wanted to see him,
she had until nine o'clock.
She'd raced out the door. No time to think.
At last, she was almost there...
A young soldier stood up ahead. He hugged his
bayonet–fixed rifle across his chest, his stance
undoubtedly fresh from Army basic. He stared hard into the
sky, as if reading his mission etched in the ribbon of
clouds. The enemy, have to protect our country from the
enemy.
The thought curled Maddie's fingers.
In a glance briefer than a blink, the GI sized her up,
her ivory skin an armor of presumed innocence. She swerved
around him, not missing a beat. To her left, personal
effects awaited transit in a snaking queue. Cribs and
ironing boards, labeled trunks and boxes. Their tags
dangled in the spring sun.
Around the corner, evacuees were amassed before the
steepled church. Red Cross volunteers handed out coffee.
"Lane! Where are you?" Her words died in the bedlam,
smothered by a baby's cry, a rumbling jeep, a little girl's
hysterics.
"But I don't want to go," the girl shrieked, face
stained red. "Mommy, I want to stay with you!" Tears
streamed from the slanted eyes that cursed the child,
dripping trails down the puffy sleeves of her lilac dress.
Two nuns pried her fingers from the Caucasian woman's arms
and guided the youngster toward the bus.
"Everything will be fine, pumpkin," the mother choked
out against a sob. "Mommy and Daddy will come see you
soon." A suited man beside her added, "You be a good girl,
now." His Anglo features contorted in despair as he limply
waved.
A reporter snapped a photo.
Who knew a piece of paper could carry so much power? One
presidential order and an orphan could lose another family;
one signed petition and marriage vows could be unsaid.
Thank God she hadn't mailed the papers yet. Stamped and
sealed, but not mailed.
Maddie scanned the faces around her, their features
similar to Lane's, but none as flawless. None bearing the
deep beauty of his eyes, his smile.
"Lane!" she shouted louder. The trio of chartered buses
was filling. Within minutes, he would be gone.
"Excuse me, miss. May I help you?" A priest touched her
arm. His wrinkled face exuded warmth that penetrated the
morning chill.
"Moritomos—I have to find them." Exhaust fumes
invaded the air, causing her to cough.
He patted her back. "Now, now, dear. Let's see what we
can do." They wove through the crowd, her gaze zipping from
one figure to the next. Beige identity tags hung from
lapels, around buttons. Branded in their Sunday best like a
herd of cattle.
"Sergeant," the priest called out. He stepped up to a
bulky Army man in the midst of lecturing two
privates. "Sergeant," he tried again, "I hate to interrupt,
but..."
"Hold your water," the guy barked, before turning and
noting the source. His shoulders lowered. "Sorry, Father.
What is it you need?"
"This young lady, here, she's trying to locate a
particular family."
"The Moritomos," Maddie cut in.
The sergeant sighed heavily as he lifted his clipboard.
He flipped forward several pages and began his search
through the list. With the top of his pen, he scratched his
head beneath his helmet. He blew out another sigh.
This was taking too long.
Maddie leaned in, trying to see the smudged names
herself. Maeda... Matsuda... Minami... Miyamoto...
The sergeant turned to the next page and looked
up. "What's that name again?"
She fought to keep her composure. "Moritomo. Lane
Moritomo."
A loud hiss shot from behind. The first bus was pulling
away, followed by the next. Another hiss and the doors
slammed closed on the last Greyhound in line. The crowd
launched into waves of farewells and
see–you–soons, whenever, wherever that might be.
"Maddie," a muffled voice barely met her ears. It came
again, stronger. "Maddie, over here!" Someone yanked open a
dusty windowpane on the remaining bus. It was Lane,
reaching across seated passengers to see her.
She wasn't too late!
Calling his name, she bumped through elbows to get to
the blue–and–white striped transport. She
scrambled for his hand until their grips linked, his skin
soft as a glove. When a smile slid across his face, all
else paled to a haze. Time reversed, back to happier days,
before the ground had crumbled on a fault line, dividing
their world in two.
"I didn't mean what I said," he implored, "at the
diner...."
"I know," she assured him, for it was a truth she had
carried inside. Still, her heart warmed from the
confirmation in his eyes.
Then the bus began to move.
"No matter what happens, Maddie, know that I'll always
love you."
She tightened her grasp, refusing to let go. "I'll be
waiting. However long it takes."
On the balls of her feet she hastened her stride. She
struggled to keep up, but the wheels were spinning too
fast. Against her silent pleas, their connection wouldn't
hold and his fingers slipped beyond reach.
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