by Murray Pura
“No one is permitted to write them. Even though your mom and dad are serving their country?”
“They don’t care if Mom and Dad are serving their country. They don’t want them serving their country.”
“But you’re training Army pilots, Becky.”
She squeezed his hand. “That’s different. I’ve never joined the church. Never been baptized. Never taken any vows. So I can’t be cut off or excommunicated. It’s okay for Grandmother and Grandfather to write me. Nate too. Neither of us has joined the church yet.”
“Whew. That’s a relief. I don’t know if I could handle you being like that.”
“I guess it does make them sound harsh. But the Amish people are really very beautiful, Christian. You would like them.”
“Beck—” Raven started to protest.
“No,” she interrupted. “You would. They’re kind and cheerful and they take care of one another. You would have no problem because you haven’t broken any vows. They would welcome you and feed you and bless you. Of course, not showing up in a uniform would help first impressions.”
“Hm. I could fly dressed in civilian clothes.”
She laughed and looked up at him. “Poor Thunderbird. No, you can’t do that either. The church people aren’t allowed to pilot planes or drive cars or use phones or have electric lights. If you want to visit them you must make up your mind to accept that it’s still 1880 in their world.”
“What?”
“That’s how it is with them.”
“They sound like a cult.”
“No, no, they are not a cult. They believe in Jesus and in the Bible just like you and me. They just go about things differently, that’s all. But they are not a cruel people.”
“They won’t write letters to your father or mother or your Aunt Ruth. What do you call that?”
Becky sighed. “The shunning can be deceiving. It can make them look far worse than they really are.”
“I think I’ll skip the trip to Pennsylvania to find out.”
“Okay, look.” Becky tugged an airmail envelope out of her jeans. “I’m going to let you read this out loud to me. I haven’t opened it yet so I haven’t had a chance to censor it or change anything. And I won’t try to take the letter away from you if I don’t like what’s in it.”
“That’s odd. Why? I’d rather walk on the beach with you.”
“Oh, Christian, we can do that later. Right now, I want you to read this letter out loud.”
“Really, why does it matter? I don’t care.”
“The Amish people are not simply about shunning and turning their backs on planes and cars. I want you to know that.”
“Beck—”
“It matters to me.”
Raven shrugged, took the envelope, and opened it, tearing along the side. There wasn’t enough light so he moved closer to a window. He scanned the page.
“There’s some German in it,” he complained.
“Skip over the German.”
“Who is this from? A secret admirer?” He grinned. “Sure you want me to read it?”
“You goof.” She shoved him into a palm tree. “It’s the bishop of the church.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Just read it, okay?”
My dear Rebecca,
I want you to know I think of you often and pray for all of your family. And I’m not the only one. The whole church prays for your mother and father and for your Aunt Ruth. We love them and look forward to the day we can all be reconciled in Christ Jesus our Lord.
So I am going to say some things that are not very Amish. I say them because I believe they are true. Now and then I look at the war news in the newspapers even though what I read puts a great stone in my heart. So much death. So much destruction. Oh, God in heaven, that those made in your image would beat their swords into plowshares, their tanks and guns and bombs into pruning hooks. This is my deepest prayer.
But then I think—between my praying of this prayer and God’s answer of it, his resounding YES, what happens? How many more people are slain? How many children orphaned? How much land is ravaged and how many cities burned to the ground? So I bear in mind that the Lord does not call everyone to be Amish, only a few. Those few he charges with being salt and light in the manner in which the Amish are to live and pray and conduct their business and raise their families. Not everyone is called to this. Yet those who are not can still serve the Lord.
So what of these others who believe in Jesus Christ? What does the Lord call them to do if he does not call them to be Amish? To pray and worship of course. To raise their families in his sight. To conduct their business in a manner pleasing to him. Even if it will not be exactly as the Amish do it, their way can still honor our Lord.
I look at the war that covers the earth and I ask, What can be done, oh, God, what can be done in the measure of time between our cries for peace and your granting of that peace? Who will strive with those who would rule the earth and imprison whole nations? Who will stand between the slayer and the mother with her children? Who will blunt the blow of the wicked?
This is what I think—it is not just the task of unbelievers to stand between the evildoer and his victims. God has appointed some Christians to be Amish, it is true, but he has appointed other Christians to maintain decency and order, to bring to an end the ways of the wicked, to safeguard the widow and the infant and bring about peace in God’s name. So some will be pilots, my dear, and do this. Some will be soldiers. Some will command great ships. But they will do it for God and for the people God made in his image.
I could not do this. I recoil from such a task. It is not in me to lift a gun. But God may put this in others who are his children—not because they love to do it, God forbid, nor even because they want to do it, but because they are compelled to do it by the living God.
Yes, yes, I am aware that many who do not believe in Jesus Christ bear arms and fight, and some fight for what is good. I do not judge them. It is not for me to weigh their sins against their righteousness. All of this is in God’s hands. I know he raises up to do his bidding those who know him not—he did this with Cyrus the King of Persia when he wanted Cyrus to set the Jews free. What the unbeliever is called to do, this I leave with God. But for the believer I say, if you will not be Amish, yet do God’s will in God’s way. So if the believer fights to set people at liberty, to stanch the flow of blood, to shield the innocent from those who thrive on evil, let him do it as one doing the very work of God. That is what I wish for; this is what I pray for. If you must stand in the gap with the sword, let it be the sword of a righteous God and may you stand as one who stands on his very words.
How strange this must seem to you, my dear Rebecca. Such talk to come from an Amish bishop. But I look and see darkness spreading over the earth and I know there is yet more darkness to come. Some are called to dam the flood of evil. I believe this with all my heart. Just as I believe it is not for the Amish to do, never, for they are called to make a different stand in Christ Jesus our Lord.
But something is coming. Something more is coming. And it may be it is for you to deal with. Already you have trained a few pilots.
Perhaps you will train more. Perhaps your father and mother will train more. Perhaps it is what you and they are called to do. And there was mention in your last letter of a young man whom you favor. Who knows—perhaps you are in love with him? You say he is a Christ man, a Jesus follower, a Christian. So maybe it is also his destiny to guard, to protect, to deliver the people of the earth. Only if he does it let him do it in the Spirit of the Lord. We are frail, we are weak, we sin, yet as far as it is possible with this young man, let him fight in the Spirit of the Lord, not in his own might or the might of those who would usurp the beauty of the world.
I will write again for Christmas. God bless you, my dear. The Lord be with you forever.
Bishop Zook
Raven stood holding the pages of the letter in his hand. After a moment he folde
d them up and gave them back to Becky. Then he walked away from the house and looked down again on the lights of Pearl Harbor. She followed him but did not touch him or speak.
“You asked for my thoughts a half hour ago,” he finally said. “I was thinking about what it would be like to be a naval aviator, of how hard it would be to land on a carrier in the dark in the middle of a storm. But I was just beginning to think of other things when you showed up. How I’m likely to be transferred to the Philippines with the Army Air Forces. That the war with Japan will be there. And you will have to remain in Hawaii, far away from me. I will never see your eyes, touch your lips, pick you up, and carry you into the waves. Can I bear that?”
Becky didn’t speak.
“If I was a naval aviator, flying a dive bomber or torpedo plane or fighter, if I was assigned to a carrier that had Pearl Harbor as its home base—well, that would be a different matter. Sure, we’d go on deployment, we’d be away for weeks or months at a time, but not for years, and we’d always come back here.” He turned and ran a hand down the side of her face. “Your hair is getting longer.”
“The Bible and the Amish say a woman’s crowning glory is her hair.”
“So now I have the Amish to thank for that and for the letter.”
“I had no idea Bishop Zook would say those things. He could actually be cut off from the community for writing them down.”
“He said you might be in love with me.”
“Yes, I adore you—I can’t think of any better way of spending my time than being with you. But love? Love is a big deal. I loved once and lost. A lot of things may be healed inside me but not that. I’m afraid the moment I say love you is the moment you’ll be snatched away from me. I’m afraid to go where love is again.”
Her young face looked so troubled Raven cupped it in his hand and kissed the freckles that made their way across the bridge of her nose. “Hey. I’m okay. I’ve had rough landings before.”
“I don’t want you to have rough landings.” Tears made their way to the corners of her eyes. “I want you to know you’re cared for. Prayed for. Dreamed about. That when we’re apart I ache for you. You mean so much to me. I can’t stand the thought that I’m making it hard for you.”
“You’re not making it hard for me.”
“Of course I am. Any other woman would have said the words by now. But not me. I can’t say the words that would make you happy.”
“The happiest man on earth.” He kissed her cheek. “I can wait.”
“What if it never happens?”
“Are you trying to frighten me off?”
“I’m just saying—”
“Because it’s kind of hard to frighten off an army pilot. Especially one who wants to be a naval aviator. Who wants his home base to be Pearl Harbor so he can love you up forever.” He gently kissed the side of her neck and she closed her eyes. “Not to mention that I’m Waya. The wolf doesn’t run, Becky.”
“I don’t want you to run,” she whispered. “I just don’t want to break your heart.”
“Shh. Christmas is right around the corner. Who knows? There’s a little something extra in the air that time of year. Anything could happen to your heart. To my heart.”
He kissed her. She clung to him as he held her tighter and tighter, never breaking the kiss. Finally he pulled away.
“Do you—do you love me?” She ran her hands over his face, looking into his eyes, her own face tight and anxious, her lips parted. “Do you, Thunderbird?”
He smoothed back her hair and stroked her cheek. “Remember the first time we met? I put out my hand and you wouldn’t take it?”
She looked even more anxious, her eyes widening in the dark. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—it seems like all I ever do is hurt you.”
“Before that I saw you when the jeep dropped me off at Peterson’s office. You were checking over your J-3. At first you were bent over and almost out of sight. Then you stood up. I thought I’d been hit by lightning. A buzz went right through me. It was like I’d been standing out in a field during a thunderstorm and electricity had gone through me.” He snapped his fingers. “It happened in a flash. For a moment I lost my breath. Do you remember spotting me at the other end of the runway?”
Becky nodded.
“No woman’s ever affected me like that in my life. One look at you just about knocked me out. But then came our weeks of quarreling and fighting, so I had to distance myself from that lightning burn as fast and as far as I could. I never quite made it, though. And the afternoon you walked out of the sea at Nanakuli I was finished.” He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “So help me, there has never been anything more beautiful on the face of the earth or in the face of heaven than you. You think I’m just spinning a line. But you’re wrong. I’d die for you. You have no idea how strongly I feel about Becky Whetstone. From the moment you stood up on that runway I was yours forever.”
He put both of his arms around her and pulled her in, kissing her gently. He took her breath, he took her strength, her thoughts and words, and she felt suspended in the air, held by him above the earth, nothing but sky beneath her feet and sun above her head.
“You wanted to know,” he whispered. “So I told you.”
“No. I need to hear you say it.”
“I did.”
She shook her head, tears cutting down her face, hands on his chest and shoulders and twining around his back. “No. I need your words. If you mean it. If it’s true. I have to hear your words. Tell me, Thunderbird. Tell me what you feel for me.”
“Beck—”
“Tell me.”
“I love you. I love you with all my heart. Everything. God knows how much I love you.”
His kiss came again. When he released her, the tears were slipping along her face, her arms still wrapped around his back with the last of her strength, he put his lips to her ear, kissed it, and whispered, “The sun’s come up for you again, girl. And so long as I live and can take you into my arms it doesn’t set.”
TWENTY
Hey!” Becky walked into an empty house in her flight jacket.
“Where is everybody?”
“I’m out here!” Jude called.
Her father was standing at the edge of the hill the house was built on, looking south toward Pearl Harbor, a large pair of binoculars to his eyes. “Take a look at this.”
Even without using the binoculars her father passed to her, Becky could see what he was excited about. “One of the carriers is leaving. With an escort.”
“A big escort. I count three heavy cruisers and eight or nine destroyers heading out.”
Becky refocused the binoculars. “I think it’s the Enterprise.”
“I think so too. Judging from where she started out.”
“Did you hear anything about this, Dad?”
“They’re on a weekend training op. Be back in Sunday night. Or Monday, December first.”
“Why now?” She handed the binoculars back.
“Did you hear what happened to the Japanese offer?”
“The one about a million gallons of airplane fuel in return for stopping the war in China? Has Washington said yes?”
Jude had the binoculars back at his eyes and was tracking the task force as it left Pearl Harbor behind. “They’re sticking to an easterly course. Washington said no, Beck. Rumor is Japan is still sending reinforcements to China and has no intention of pulling her troops out. Who knows? But Tokyo said that was their final attempt to normalize relations with us. So anything could happen now.”
“That’s why the Big E’s suddenly doing a training exercise?”
“Well, we saw them taking on supplies last week, remember? Everybody knew they were heading out sometime. Today it’s a weekend exercise. Tomorrow, maybe something longer. Maybe all the way south. Or west. Or north.”
“What does that mean?”
“We have a large base in the Philippines so that’s a good bet—south and west. Midway Islands ar
e north and west, we might reinforce them—we have an airstrip there. Wake Island and Guam are pretty much due west of here and a lot closer to Japan than Hawaii is—Guam’s practically in Japan. So are Manila and the Philippines for that matter. I can see task forces being sent to all those places and probably a lot more I haven’t thought about.”
“But the Enterprise is going east.”
“For now.”
“I thought—” Becky stopped. “You sound like you’re talking about war. I thought we might be past that.”
“Not with the U.S. turning down the last offer from Tokyo.”
Becky glanced back at the house. “So how come you’re the only one home? Where’s Mom? Where’s Aunt Ruth?”
“Your mother’s doing some extra flying lessons this evening. Nothing to do with the Enterprise heading out, just civilian students. Ruth—well, Ruth’s going up pretty soon.”
“Going up? What? In a plane?”
“I hope so.”
“How can she go up in a plane? She’s Amish.”
“Amish and shunned for not being Amish enough because she dared to come to Hawaii and continued to talk and eat with us. So she thought she might as well enjoy herself. Bishop Zook went up after all.”
“Twenty years ago.” She stared at her father. “Are you pulling my leg?”
Jude put an arm around her shoulder. “Manuku asked her. He’s the pilot.”
“She’s going up with him in a J-3?”
“Yes.”
“Why, he…he’s only—”
“Thirty-eight. Your aunt’s forty-four. Six years between them. Not so bad.”
Becky’s mouth was partly open. “Are you serious?”
“Ruth is. As serious as she’s been since her husband was killed. Haven’t you noticed?”
“She’s never talked about it.”
“I don’t think she wanted to talk about it or analyze it. Sometimes that spoils things, doesn’t it? I don’t recall wanting to talk to the guys in my squadron about your mother. I wanted to keep it inside and secret.” He smiled and walked with her into the house. “Isn’t that how you feel about Thunderbird?”
