She thought about the fairy tales her mother used to read to her. Thumbelina was her favorite. Daisy loved to lie in the grass with her head on her mother’s lap. Upside down, Louise’s plump lips reminded her of red sea anemones and she could have stared at them all day long. As her mother read, one hand would run through Daisy’s hair. There had been nothing in the world that Daisy loved more. But that Louise had disappeared long before the war.
One thing Daisy had noticed was that being around people all day sapped her energy. Give her an empty beach and a horse any day. Though she had to admit, she looked forward to seeing Fluff and Betty and Lei and was beginning to understand the notion of female friends. Unlike the men at the stables, the girls strung together more than two sentences, and always wanted more details. They asked where her mother was, and why she’d left and how Daisy was faring living all alone in the boondocks. How they came to have a house on the beach. Who was the closest neighbor. What kind of toothpaste she used. Fluff in particular grilled Daisy on her car rides with Walker, and found it unfathomable that a man and a woman could simply be friends.
“I promise you, I work with a bunch of men and none of them are interested in me. They hardly even notice I’m there,” Daisy said.
Fluff gave her a look of disbelief. “So you think.” The other girls also spilled their own secrets, and Daisy was touched by their vulnerability. Lei couldn’t conceive and wanted a child more than anything—and now her haole husband seemed to have lost interest in her; Betty’s hair fell out in large clumps whenever Chuck shipped out for any length of time; Fluff had suffered a recently broken heart by a man who, unbeknownst to her, had a family on the Mainland. Why did it seem to be a rule of life that people were most attracted to what they could not have?
After a productive afternoon of mowing the lawn and trimming the naupaka hedge, Daisy checked the drying aku, which had been in the sun for four days now. Her father had taught her how to make a screen box and shown her just how much brine solution to soak it in. To top it off, Daisy liked to smoke it for added flavor. Usually, she waited for darkness and stars, but nighttime fires were a thing of the past.
She built a small fire with kiawe wood on the edge of the beach, and within minutes, she was intoxicated by the sweet and tangy smoke, swirling skyward. She was so focused on turning the fish and tending the coals that she failed to notice the two men on horseback until they were nearly upon her.
“Wilder,” one said.
She jumped.
“You sending smoke signals to the enemy?” the other said.
“Just smoking fish, Dex.”
“Not a good idea. I suggest you put that fire out before you get yourself blown up by the military.”
“Who put you in charge?” she said, unable to help herself.
“We’re part of the guard now.”
Dex and Johnny Boy both worked at the ranch, and both had rifles slung over their shoulders. Dex could rope anything that moved and Johnny Boy was stronger than a bull. She looked beyond them for any sign of Walker, but the beach was empty.
She stood. “I’ll put it out.”
Johnny Boy smiled. “How about a few strips of that aku? Smells pretty ono.”
The aku was food for the next week, and it was hard to come by now that none of the Japanese fishermen could take out their boats. But Johnny Boy had a mean streak and she didn’t want to set him off.
“Where you been lately?” Dex asked.
“Oh, you know, here and there.”
“More there than here, looks like,” Johnny Boy said.
“I have a new job in town,” she said, not wanting to get into it.
“Sounds like Junior is driving you and sister in for some kind of hush-hush operation. You know something we ought to know?”
Again, Daisy wondered what Peg was saying around the ranch.
“I’m not sure where you get your information, but they need typists and people to answer the phones. Boring clerical work—the kind that us girls are really good at,” she said with a forced smile. She pulled off a skewer and handed it to Johnny Boy, still smoking. “Now, I need to get back to work.”
He eyed her up and down, then took the fish. “You be careful, Wilder, out here on your own.”
Daisy nodded to the shotgun, which was leaning against the ironwood. “Oh, I’m not alone.”
Back at Little Robert, the pace had picked up considerably. Strengths and weaknesses were beginning to show, but the beauty was someone always picked up the slack. Betty helped Fluff pin chits on a board, showing what type of aircraft it was or whom it belonged to. 25 IS BOMBER! MAKE 34 NAVY! 5 IS NOW OATS! OATS being operational air traffic, and the number corresponding to the flag on the table. Dunn had assigned the role to Fluff when it became clear her plotting was way off base and not improving. But she had the neatest handwriting of the bunch and for some reason deemed it necessary to use exclamation points on each plotted flight. The most interesting ones were always the UNIDENTIFIED! Those got everyone’s hackles raised, with bogey becoming an all too familiar term.
“What exactly is a bogey?” Fluff had initially asked.
“It can be one of two things,” Dunn happily explained. “Either a false radar blip or an unidentified aircraft. In both cases, you need to take it seriously.”
As much as Dunn liked to circulate around the table and find reasons to give a pat on the back or a squeeze to the shoulder, Nixon remained gruff and standoffish. He always had a cup of coffee in one hand and a notebook in the other, and never lightened up. Some of the girls had assigned him the code name Joe, for the coffee. “His poor wife,” Fluff said, one day during lunch.
Lei lowered her voice. “Thelma said his wife died.”
“How would Thelma know?” Daisy said.
“Her father has a hand in everything in these islands,” Lei said.
“Do you know how she died?” Daisy asked.
“Nope.”
“Poor Nixon, no wonder he’s such a sourpuss,” Betty said.
Daisy found herself sticking up for him, though she wasn’t sure why. “You have to admire his dedication. I don’t think he ever sleeps or leaves. I want someone like that defending our islands.”
“I’ve never seen the man smile. That says something about a person, doesn’t it?” Fluff said.
Louise never smiled. Maybe some people lost the ability along with their loved one. Betty brightened. “What do you say we make a bet! First gal to get Nixon to smile wins a prize.”
“What kind of prize?” Fluff asked.
They all looked around, waiting for someone else to offer suggestions. Daisy had nothing to give but dried fish or cowrie shells. “Maybe just seeing a smile on his face will be reward enough. It’ll mean we’ve cracked his armor.”
“What fun is that?” Betty said. “I say the winner gets ten dollars. We get ten girls and each puts in a dollar.”
Parting with a dollar would hurt, but at least Daisy had a decent paycheck coming.
“We’ll call it Operation Smile. Top secret and need to know only,” Fluff said.
They shook on it.
* * *
Two days until the WARDs were to move into new quarters at Fort Shafter, Daisy still had not encountered Walker. She was going crazy on the inside, hoping to ride a patrol with him on the beach. A man had never inhabited so much space in her mind, and it was unsettling. She also knew from Peg, who told Thelma who told JoAnn who told Lei, that he was back at home after a few nights of staying in the barracks.
Light winds and huge surf brought a dense layer of haze to Waialua. As the sun drew nearer to the horizon, the whole beach flamed up into dizzying reds and oranges. Salt coated every surface possible—windows, dishes, skin. Daisy sat on the porch and watched. Several fighters flew high above the waves, their telltale stars barely visible. No one came down the beach and
she decided he wasn’t coming. Again. The very moment she had made up her mind to swim, she heard a commotion in the bushes off to the left. Crashing branches and snapping twigs.
She grabbed the shotgun. “Hello?”
From between the ironwoods came a palomino that she immediately recognized as Honey Girl. Walker sat atop, with Nalu on a lead behind him.
“It’s just me, Wilder. Put that thing down,” he said, taking off his hat. None of the guys ever did that for her, and it gave her a flush on the inside.
In a rust-colored plaid shirt and faded blue jeans, he looked all cowboy and no pilot. His hand must be all healed up, too.
“What are you doing in the bushes? You scared me half to death,” she said.
“We came down the cane road, thought it would be quicker. Nalu spooked when he heard the planes.”
“Horses and fighter planes don’t mix.”
He nodded. “Point taken.”
“Why do you have Nalu? Isn’t he injured?”
“His leg is all healed and I thought maybe you’d want to do a patrol with us. I know it’s late, but a few things happened and I lost track of time. I could use the help.”
After a quick change into riding pants, Daisy led Nalu over to a stump and climbed on. At sixteen hands, he was one of their taller horses. He was also a bighearted animal, and if you weren’t careful, he’d nuzzle and lip you silly. Thank goodness he hadn’t bolted away like Moon.
Low tide made for easy riding and Walker and Honey Girl took off at an easy trot. In all the years at the ranch, she had never ridden alongside Walker Montgomery. After he graduated high school, he’d joined the navy, something that angered his father to no end. Old man Montgomery wanted him to run the family business, but everyone knew that he and Walker had a falling-out of some kind. Since then, Walker’s presence at the ranch had been sporadic.
“They say something big is going down in Singapore,” he told her.
“Does that mean the Japanese forces are focusing their attention elsewhere?”
He slowed so they were side by side. “Not necessarily. They have ships and subs all over the Pacific, so we need to stay vigilant. How are you with that shotgun?”
“Pretty good.”
She was more than pretty good, but she didn’t want to boast.
“We want to keep you safe.”
The way he said we sent a flutter through her rib cage. Without another word, he moved into a canter. They flew down the beach in a smooth glide with Walker out front, but just barely. Nalu did not like being behind and little by little, edged closer. He had a fine jump in his step and Daisy relaxed her inner thighs to make it easier on him. Though he moved well, he wasn’t Moon. When they pulled up alongside Walker, Walker hunkered down and shifted into a full gallop. Daisy and Nalu matched them. They flew along until they reached a rocky outcropping up the way, right around the bend from where Moon disappeared. Walker slowed before she did.
A haunted look passed over his face, but he got off and led them through the rocks to the other side. The charred remains of the Japanese Zero sat half-submerged in the shallows, right where she remembered them to be.
He stopped and stared. Daisy stood next to him.
“The weird thing is, I remember every minute detail of that morning. The layout of the clouds, and where the rain squalls were. The slant of sun rays shining through. Sometimes when I close my eyes, it starts up again in my head, spooling out like a motion picture. I smell the smoke and hear the gunfire.” He paused. “And I won’t forget that guy’s face for as long as I live. He was smiling at me.”
Walker trembled slightly. Without thinking, as she would with a spooked horse, Daisy put her hand on his shoulder. She wanted to say something, but could think of nothing helpful. Her breath was slow and even, which often helped calm the horses. Sometimes she wondered if it was normal to base everything on your interaction with horses, but that’s mainly what she had. Walker’s skin felt hot to the touch.
“I know it doesn’t make it easier, but he came here and shot up your island, killed your friends. You were just minding your own business,” she said.
“The whole thing stinks. But I guess that’s war for you.”
Daisy had always wondered. “What made you want to become a pilot? You had so much going here with the ranch.”
“You’re not going to believe me, but it started by watching the gooney birds soaring around. Seemed like a pair of wings could give you freedom like nothing else. As you know, my dad can be overbearing—” he turned her way and studied her face for a few seconds “—and I wanted something that was all my own, not his.”
Daisy was surprised that a man like Walker would take inspiration from a bird. But she understood. She loved the albatross, too.
“How was the training?” she asked.
“Grueling. At the time I thought it was overkill, but now I see that they prepared us well. Not only did we get drilled on Morse code and navigation, we learned hand-to-hand combat and psychology.”
“They teach you psychology in flight school?”
“Oh yeah, in case we’re taken captive. Americans are soft and lazy by enemy standards. We’d be toast. The training toughened us up, and then some,” he said.
People always talked about the Japanese toughness and discipline, and now they’d shown it at Pearl. “You were hardly soft and lazy.”
“Compared to them I was.”
“Not anymore. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” she said.
Beyond the rocks, they hopped back on the horses and kept going. Walker rode alongside her and they talked about everything under the sun. He had a unique talent for seeming so genuinely interested in every word that came out of her mouth, whether it was what kind of fish she caught for lunch, or how things were going at Little Robert and life with the girls. No man had ever been so easy to talk to, nor had she ever wanted to talk to one endlessly like this. It was like being with a girlfriend, except she didn’t get dizzy daydreaming about kissing her friends. She would have kept riding all night if they could.
And then he surprised her with, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Hadn’t they already been talking about personal things? “Sure.”
Walker pulled up on the reins and came to a stop, she followed suit. “How come you aren’t married off yet?”
The water lapped at Nalu’s hooves. Daisy thought about making up some lie that would make her not sound like such a failure in the love department, but opted for the truth. “No one has asked. And taking care of my mom, it’s not like I had a lot of opportunity to date. Even if there had been fellas out here to date.”
“Fair enough.”
She quickly added, “I’m not opposed to the idea, with the right person, of course.”
One side of his mouth went up. “So a man would have to pass muster?”
A storm was going on inside her, as she tried to maintain her cool. “He would.”
She risked a look and their eyes met. For a moment, she thought maybe he would throw his hat in the ring, but instead, he said, “You should know we’re heading out on a mission sometime in the next few days.”
Daisy’s heart dropped to the sand. “Where to?”
“They don’t tell us until we leave. Safer that way.”
One thing she knew about missions was that plenty of pilots never returned. Their eyes met. Betty’s words immediately came to mind. You don’t want a pilot. All at once, a terrible thought struck her: it was too late, she already did.
11
THE QUARTERS
After the WARDs completed a morning shift, a truck came by to drive them to their new quarters. For a girl always chosen last for teams, being asked to room with Betty and Fluff had felt better than a burst of sun on a cool winter’s day. It warmed Daisy’s heart from the inside out. The houses were nothing s
pecial, and to some of the girls, they probably seemed spare, but they were freshly painted and tidy looking, with ti leaf and red ginger ringing each one. House 375A had two bedrooms, and since there were three of them, Fluff and Daisy took the big room, with two twin beds. Betty, they all decided, should get the queen on the off chance she could smuggle Chuck in when he was off the ship.
No men allowed. The orders had been clear, but the girls were discovering that people sometimes looked the other way in matters of the heart. Especially with the military wives. An unspoken code. And rather than stay in a tiny room on the far side of base by herself while Chuck was gone much of the time, Betty had wanted to room with the girls. Their previous house had been converted to a bachelor officer’s quarters, and she hated being alone. An unfortunate quality for a navy wife.
There was a metal bucket full of sand on the front doorstep. It reminded Daisy of the one she used to keep with hermit crabs and sea cucumbers. But this one wasn’t for crabs. Ever since the attack on London, when German bombers dropped incendiary bombs across the whole city, Americans began pumping out pamphlets on methods for handling these highly flammable devices. Water and sand should always be kept on hand. Living on the beach, Daisy never worried about it. Here, she was thankful for the bucket.
They spent the afternoon unpacking and moving the couch into every position imaginable. Daisy would have been fine with it anywhere, but Fluff and Betty had strong opinions about where it should go.
“The couch should always face the window,” Fluff said, in a sweet yet determined voice.
“But it blocks the door, and we don’t want to have to walk around it every time we leave the house. Plus, you should always have a solid wall behind you,” Betty said.
They both turned to Daisy. “What do you think?”
“I think it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, it matters. Imagine a stream flowing through the house. What path would the water take? You want to keep the water moving and not block it,” Betty argued.
Fluff looked around. “I don’t see any streams running through the house, do you, Daisy?”
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