Whispers of a New Dawn

by Murray Pura

  “I guess everybody knows I adore him. But I’m not sure I can ever really and truly love him, Dad.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not really about Moses. It’s not that he has to be Moses. I like Thunderbird just as he is. But I have this—this thing inside…where I feel if I let myself love him…he’ll be killed.”

  “You believe that?”

  “I don’t want to believe it. In my head I don’t really believe it. But all my emotions believe it and I don’t know how to stop that.”

  “I can pray with you if you like.”

  “I would like that. Maybe it will help me make my way out of this.” She sat on a stool in the kitchen and peeled a banana. “He told me he loved me, you know. The night after we toured Pearl.” She smiled with her eyes and her lips. “He made me pretty happy. And every time he says it again I’m even happier.” Her eyes turned a dark green. The smile vanished. “I can’t make him happy in return. I can’t say it.”

  Jude poured Becky a glass of pineapple juice. “I’ll bet he’s a happy guy just to have you as his girl.”

  “That’s what he says. But I wish I could say to him what he said to me. It’s like I’ve got something caught in my throat.”

  “I think Thunderbird is a patient guy.”

  “He says he is. But he won’t wait forever.”

  “How do you know?”

  “No man will, Dad.” She drank the juice in one long swallow.

  Jude opened the fridge. “What do you want for supper?”

  “I don’t care. What does Nate want?” She looked over her shoulder into the rest of the house. “Where is he?”

  “He’s up too.”

  “What?”

  “He went up with Thunderbird.”

  Becky stopped as she lifted the glass pitcher of pineapple juice. “He’s up in a Piper J-3 with Thunderbird.”

  “No, sir. Not a J-3. They’re up in a Curtiss P-36 Hawk. Billy Skipp gave the okay. I have no idea where they are right now. Maybe tracking the Enterprise?”

  “Dad! Nate could barely handle the stick when I had him up this week. How can he handle a fighter? Even an old fighter like the P-36?”

  “Don’t let Thunderbird hear you say that. He’s pretty fond of his bird. Figures it can handle anything.”

  “I know what he thinks. How did he get involved with Nate?”

  Jude put a plate of fried chicken and coleslaw in front of her. “Nate called him up last night after you were in bed.”

  “So Nate was sneaking around.”

  “He knew you’d be upset. That you wouldn’t think he was anywhere near ready to handle a fighter plane.”

  “And he’s not. Who put that idea in his head?”

  “You did.”

  “Me?” Becky pushed away the chicken.

  “Didn’t you tell him he’d feel more comfortable handling a bigger plane? That the Piper was too small and light for him?”

  “Sure I did, Dad. But just to encourage him. He was so stiff and tight. His clumsiness at the controls was bringing him down. You know how good he was before China. I was just trying to buck him up.”

  “Well, you did. He was smiling just enough after the phone call to make your mother thank God at bedtime and all the way to the Peterson airfield this morning. Thunderbird was supposed to pick him up at our house at one o’clock.”

  Becky pulled the plate of chicken back and began to nibble at a drumstick. “I’m surprised. But Christian’s with him. And he’s talked with Nate several times. He’s very good. Very gentle, more gentle than any man I’ve known except for Moses.” She didn’t want to laugh but did. “I can just see them crammed together in the cockpit. I’m sure it’ll be a short flight.”

  “Short or long, if it helps Nate it’s worth it.”

  “Of course it will help him. Thunderbird’s a great pilot. And a great guy.” She shook her head and played with the other pieces of chicken. “I just can’t tell him that in the way I ought to.” Becky clenched a fist and jammed it against her chest. “I can’t stand being trapped inside, Dad. I hate not being free.”

  Jude wiped his fingers on a napkin and reached across the table to take his daughter’s hand. “Time to talk to Eternity about it.”

  She bowed her head. “Could you pray in German, Dad?”

  “Will you understand the German?”

  “Some of it I will. It doesn’t matter. He’ll understand it.”

  “All right, honey.”

  Jude began to pray quietly. “Herr, setze meine Tochter Becky in Freiheit.”

  Becky understood that much. Lord, set my daughter Becky at liberty.

  His prayer grew and the sentences became longer and more complicated and Becky got lost trying to follow the German. So she calmed her mind and let the words flow through her and through the air and find their way to God while peace worked its way into her mind and into every part of her body. The only thing she found herself doing was whispering, “Gott sei gelobt, Gott sei gelobt, Gott sei gelobt.” Praise God, praise God, praise God.

  When Jude had pronounced amen she opened her eyes.

  “Thank you, Dad. I always feel a lot better when I’m prayed over in German.”

  “Do you feel free enough to say what you want to say to Thunderbird?”

  “I don’t know.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Do you ever miss being among our Amish family and friends?”

  Jude leaned back in his chair, toothpick in his mouth. “Sure. There are many people I love. Your mother and Nate feel the same way. And of course Ruth. But then I remember how some of the Amish in Paradise felt God had taken Moses away because of your great sin of loving him too much. I remember that they will not let me fly. Or serve my country. I look at the faces of my students—” He tapped the side of his head. “I see them right here—and I know how satisfied I am that the skills they’re learning can keep them alive when they fly, whether they’re civilians or military.”

  He leaned forward and took the toothpick out of his mouth. “And today’s civilian is tomorrow’s fighter pilot if we go to war. So if we train them well the odds improve as far as some of them surviving combat and returning home to their parents and their wives and their children. It’s hard to think of throwing that over to return to the Amish church. In fact, I won’t. Neither will your mother.” He looked at her steadily. “We’re never going back, Becky.”

  The door opened before Becky could respond. Her mother rushed in, blond hair loose and blowing back, flight jacket open, green eyes flashing, a smile opening up her whole face. “My goodness, what a day. My students were as sharp as tacks. I haven’t done so many loops and rolls since the ’20s. And Ruth! Quiet Ruth! I have never seen her so animated in my life.”

  She kissed her husband and daughter and took a seat, immediately peeling a banana. “Manuku must have had her in the air over an hour and a half. He handed the stick to her seven times, he says. And there was Ruth on the runway, twenty minutes after landing, and she still had a leather jacket and helmet on—they fit her perfectly—and she didn’t want to leave the plane. But Manuku had several students to train so she finally walked back to the hut with me. Her eyes were as bright as a sixteen-year-old’s. And her hair came loose when she pulled her helmet off, pins flying everywhere, and she left it loose. I’ve never seen her look so becoming. The silver and white in her black hair made her so—so—” She ate the banana in small bites and hunted for the word she wanted. “Well, she was enchanting. Not a very good Amish word. But that’s what she was.”

  Lyyndaya finished the banana and reached for the pitcher of pineapple juice. “Flapjack had all this music blaring, he always celebrates a bit when it’s Friday, and I was sure Ruth would complain, but do you know what she did? My Ruth? She knew the words to that song Judy Garland sings, ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow,’ and started to sing along. Not loud. But she’s always had a pure, strong voice. Everyone could hear her. Then it was ‘You Are My Sunshine’ and Billie Holiday’s ‘
God Bless the Child.’ She knew more of the songs by heart than Flapjack did, than anyone did. How is that possible? What has happened to my Amish sister?” She poured the juice into her glass.

  Becky didn’t know what to say. “Where was I when all this was happening?”

  “You were up. Or gone. A lot took place after you were gone.” She sipped at the juice and smiled at Jude. “And you too, my dear. The best thing of all happened after you left.”

  “And what was that?” he asked.

  “Nate showed up with Thunderbird. Flying the P-36.”

  “No kidding!”

  “They circled the field twice. Threw the canopy back so we could see who was doing what. And Nate had the stick. He brought her in. A little wobbly. A little flat. But he made the landing. He was all smiles. It did my heart good. Gott sei gelobt.”

  “No one—came back with you?” asked Becky. “Not Nate? Or Thunderbird? Why not?”

  “Oh, Wizard and Lockjaw showed up to whisk Kalino and Hani away for hot dogs at the Black Cat and then off to the movies. Batman and Shooter and Whistler were supposed to meet them there. Some sort of double feature along with a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Maltese Falcon and a movie about General Custer, it has Errol Flynn in it—”

  Jude put his hand over Lyyndaya’s. “You’ve had quite an evening. So where’s Nate?”

  “Nate and Thunderbird borrowed some of Flapjack’s fuel and took off again. Like a pair of brothers. Headed out to Pearl and the open sea. They’d heard the Enterprise had left port.”

  “It did. Along with an escort.”

  “So what does that mean? Is there trouble somewhere?”

  “It’s just a weekend training exercise.”

  “Yes?” Lyyndaya glanced at her daughter. “Why so glum?”

  “I’m not glum.”

  “I come in here at attack speed and I haven’t even asked you two how you are.”

  “I’m okay, Mom. Just a little bowled over at the idea of Aunt Ruth dancing and singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’”

  “She wasn’t dancing.”

  Jude cleared his throat. “Becky and I were discussing our Amish church in Paradise when you flew through the doorway. She was asking if I missed the people and the Amish way. So I said, yes, there are some things I miss, some people I miss very much. But honestly, I wouldn’t trade them for training these young people and helping all the American people, not just the Amish ones. I told her you felt the same way I did.”

  Lyyndaya stared at her daughter. “Your father is right about that.”

  “I could tell when you barreled in here, Mom.”

  “Are you angry because I’m happy?” Lyyndaya asked. “Because Ruth and Nate are happy? I thought you were happy.”

  “I…am…I guess I am—”

  “What’s happened? Is it Thunderbird?”

  “Yes. Of course it’s Thunderbird. He’s turned me inside out. Even when he doesn’t mean to.”

  “What did he say that has hurt you so much?”

  “He said he loves me.”

  Lyyndaya blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “He loves me. He told me he loves me.”

  Lyyndaya looked at Jude and then back at Becky. “And this hurts you? How?”

  “I…I can’t say it back…”

  “You don’t have to say it back right away.”

  Becky’s face filled with blood. “I’ll never say it back. I can’t.”

  “Shh, shh.”

  “I thought we might return to Pennsylvania. So I can get away from him. Stop breaking his heart. It hurts me to break his heart, Mom; he’s such a great guy, but I need to leave.” She ran her hands back through her hair and the tears started. “But now you all want to stay here. Ruth, Nate, you and Dad, no one wants to be Amish anymore. No one will come back to Paradise with me. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Lyyndaya got up and pulled her chair over beside her daughter and took her in her arms. “All right. All right. Even if no one is going to jump on a boat with you and head to San Francisco, that doesn’t mean we don’t care or won’t do all we can to help you.”

  “How can anyone help me when I can’t even help myself?”

  “That’s usually when we do need help, my girl.”

  “I have no idea what would help. I want to love him but I can’t. I want to look into his beautiful blue eyes and say, ‘I love you,’ but I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “There’s just a block, that’s all. Dad’s prayed with me. I’ve prayed. But I just can’t.”

  “But it is Moses, isn’t it?” Her father’s voice was quiet.

  “No, it’s not Moses—I told you, I’m over Moses, I don’t know what it’s about.”

  “You loved Moses and he died. If you love Christian he will die too.”

  “I don’t—”

  “But you can go back to Paradise. Go back to the Amish. Go back to Bishop Zook. Take your vows. Be baptized. Perhaps you’ll find peace. Perhaps Christian will be spared. And if Christian is spared then your heart will be spared also.”

  Becky didn’t reply. She sobbed into her mother’s shoulder as if she were twelve. Lyyndaya began to rock her and whispered, “Do you really think this is what God does? Do you really think you must scheme like this trying to make sure the man you love won’t be taken away a second time?”

  “I don’t know…In my head, I know, but in my heart…”

  “Do you honestly think God wants less love in the world? In this violent and hate-filled world? Do you think the God of love who loves you and this whole earth does not want you to love a man he also loves and who he put in your life to touch your heart and your soul? Didn’t God heal you of the loss of Moses, and wasn’t this man part of your healing? This man you love? Do you truly think God wants to take him away from you? Or does he want the two of you to put more love on the earth?”

  “Mom, I can’t—”

  Lyyndaya hugged her daughter more tightly and kissed her hair. “Raven is the man you love. And he is the man God loves.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Hey. Batman.”

  Raven lifted the comic book off Batman’s face. The sudden rush of sunlight failed to make him open his eyes.

  “What happened?” Raven flipped through the comic book. “The adventures of Batman and Robin put you to sleep?”

  “No.”

  “Come on. Get up. Skipp’s briefing us in the hangar in five.”

  Batman opened one eye. “We at war?”

  “We’re at Christmas—almost. Less than a month to go. He wants to hold a big dinner and dance, and you get to swing down on a rope and snatch up the prettiest girl.”

  Batman opened both eyes and grinned. “That would be Becky then. Would you mind?”

  “Me mind? No, I’d have the Christmas spirit. Jolly and fat and ho-ho-ho. You need to ask if Becky would mind. Remember what happened to Lockjaw.”

  Batman had been slumped in a deck chair near the runway. He climbed to his feet and stretched. “I met a sweet little nurse who works at the naval hospital. Think I’ll stick with her instead.”

  They began to walk.

  “What were you doing at the naval hospital?” asked Raven.

  “Getting blood drawn.”

  “For what?”

  “I was doing a medical.”

  “Your army medical not good enough?”

  “Not for the navy. Did you see that Abbot and Costello film In the Navy?”

  “Missed it.”

  “Well, if you’d seen it that would explain the whole thing.”

  Raven glanced at him. “Are you looking to transfer over to flattops?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When are you going to get your carrier training?”

  Batman put on his aviator sunglasses. “All in due time. Today I’m still on army time. Let’s see what the old man has to say.”

  “I thought Lockjaw was going to make the transfer.”

  “I bumped into h
im at the hospital. He had Kalino in tow. Guess he can’t give blood without her.”

  The others were seated on chairs with their backs to the open doors of the hangar. Billy Skipp was sketching out a pattern on a chalkboard, rapping the chalk down sharply to make dots when he wasn’t drawing in a line or a circle.

  “Good of you to join us.” Skipp broke his piece of chalk and picked up a fresh one. “So the concern is saboteurs. That’s why the P-40s are being placed in the middle of the airfield—we’re kind of stacking them. That way an enemy agent can’t sneak out to the edge of the strip one night and damage all our fighters. The sentries can see what’s going on easily enough when all the Warhawks are out on the open and in the same place.”

  “Who’s the enemy?” asked Shooter.

  “Who do you think? Mussolini.”

  The pilots laughed. Raven raised his hand to shoulder height. “Sir. What about the P-36s?”

  Skipp dusted his hands off by slapping them together. “I know you like your kite, Thunderbird. But saboteurs aren’t going to go after them. They’re almost museum pieces. The P-40s are our first concern.”

  “I told you,” whispered Wizard. “You’re just a target balloon for the Zeros.”

  Raven grunted. “Shut up, Haircomb.”

  Skipp broke into the fresh wave of laughter. “Speaking of Zeros, let’s see how you guys are doing with aircraft identification.” He turned to a flip chart set up on an easel and pointed. “Wizard?”

  “That’s the Zero, sir, that’s the Zeke.”

  “More, please.”

  “Mitsubishi A6M. Currently, so far as we know, the A6M2, Type 0, Model 21. Maximum speed more than three hundred miles per hour. Two machine guns in the engine cowling, seven-point-seven millimeter. Two cannon in the wings, twenty millimeter. Fast and maneuverable.”

  “Very good.” Skipp tapped the chart. “Juggler. What about this?”

  “Um. I’d guess the Kate, sir.”

  Skipp’s eyebrows lifted as high as anyone had seen them. “You’d guess?”