Whispers of a New Dawn

by Murray Pura

  The moon rose silently over the palm trees of Oahu and the brightness slipped over the beach and the crashing surf, making the waves whiter and the pages of Raven’s Bible gleam. He traced his finger over the lines of type. Becky moved closer.

  “Can I help?” she asked, putting her face close to his.

  “Uh-uh. This is something I have to do.”

  “You act as if I touched you you’d explode.”

  “I would.” He sat up straighter. “Now listen to this. You can’t interrupt me or tempt me while I’m reading the Bible. These words are from God.”

  Becky hugged her knees to her chest. “All right. What are they?”

  “Really. These are words of God. But tonight I’m reworking them a little. They’re from me to you.”

  “A good woman who can find? For her worth is far above rubies. She rises early in the morning and gives meat to her household. She layeth her hands to the spindle. She is not afraid of the snow. She openeth her mouth with wisdom—”

  “Shh. No fooling around.”

  Raven faced her, holding the Bible open in one hand. For a moment she was reminded of an Amish minister preaching. But it was impossible for her to hold the image long—Raven was tanned, muscular, his hair tangled from seawater and sun, and he was sitting cross-legged on a tropical beach in his swimsuit. She put a hand to her mouth to stop the laughter gurgling up inside her.

  “Are you listening?” he demanded.

  “Yes, yes. I had a crazy thought, that’s all.”

  “Well, hold that crazy thought for a few minutes. I’ve been thinking about this since Skipp had me up and flying in the moonlight Sunday night.”

  “That must have been something.”

  “It was something. Are you here?”

  Becky smiled softly as she watched him start to read the Bible to her. “I’m here.”

  “Okay.” He looked up. “You are beautiful, my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, awesome as an army with banners. Turn your eyes away from me for they have overcome me.”

  Becky’s smile deepened. “Where did you get this from? The Song of Solomon?”

  He took a piece of paper out of the Bible. “That part I read pretty much straight. But I, uh, I went to the chaplain to see if he could help me put something together that was…a little more modern. He’s actually a bit of a scholar when it comes to Hebrew and Greek. So we came up with this. It’s accurate. Just not as formal as the old language the Bible uses.”

  “I’m happy with that. What did you tell him you needed the translation for?”

  “A Christmas present.”

  “Is that true?”

  “It is true. Three weeks to go. This is a warm-up.” He lifted the paper so he could see it better. “Your teeth are lambs, pure and white and freshly washed and perfect. Your temple is like the halves of a pomegranate, cleanly sliced and smooth, lying gently under the covering of your hair. My dove has no flaws, no blemishes—everything in her is as it should be, and she is the only daughter of her mother. Who is she? Who is this young woman? She comes to me like the dawn, fair as the moon, radiant as the sun, majestic as a sky glittering with stars.” He put the paper down and stared at her as the moon carved her face and figure with light. “Before I was even aware of it she made the soul inside of me like the chariots of a prince.”

  Knees drawn up to her chest, Becky had leaned her cheek on the tops of them. “Aw. That makes me feel special. You have no idea.”

  Raven’s hand followed the path of the moonlight to her face. “U-wo-du-hi. U-wo-du-hi. U-wo-du-hi.”

  She let him stroke her cheek, not closing her eyes. “What are you saying to me?”

  “Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. It’s Cherokee.”

  Her eyes glimmered. “Okay. You can’t read all those verses to me from the Bible and tell me I’m beautiful in Cherokee and expect me not to cry.”

  “Gv-ge-yu.” He touched his lips to hers as lightly as he could.

  She continued to look at him, tears moving slowly along the curve of her cheek. “If I had to guess I’d say you were telling me you love me.”

  Raven kissed her lightly again. “Aloha au ia ’oe.”

  “I know that’s Hawaiian.”

  “Aloha nui loa.”

  “Tell me what you’re saying to me, Christian. No more games.”

  “I could choose more languages, I suppose. I know it in French and Spanish and German too.”

  “Let me do the German.” She traced a heart over his face with her finger. “Ich liebe dich.” Her lips brushed his. “Am I right?”

  “Yeah. You’re right.” He kissed her. “You taste perfect.”

  “What does perfect taste like?”

  “It tastes like someone who is strong, gentle, intelligent, compassionate, altogether lovely and holy and—”

  “Stop.” She pressed her fingers against his lips. “I asked you not to play any more games.”

  “I don’t think you realize how much I think about you and how often I thank God for you. He must get tired of me. It’s Raven going on about Becky again.” He stood up, stooped, and took her up into his arms. “Will you stay with me until the moon sets?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you wait for me if I am sent far away with my squadron?”

  “I will.”

  “Can I keep using superlatives when I talk about you?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I guess. So long as we’re alone. But no more speeches to others about me.”

  He carried her toward the surf. “You’re dry as a bone.”

  “And warm. What are you going to do about it?”

  “If I get you wet you’ll want to hug me all night, won’t you?”

  “Probably.”

  She squealed as he ran into a big wave and let it smash to pieces on their backs and shoulders, filling their mouths with water and covering their eyes.

  A roller knocked him off his feet and they were both buried in white foam. They came up spitting and shouting, and the surge churned them around and flung them onto the beach. She pounced and pinned him down.

  A wave hit and threw her off him and they both spun and rolled in the swirl. The current pulled them back into the ocean and they treaded water next to each other in the swell.

  “You look great!” he shouted.

  “Sure I do. With my hair all plastered down.”

  “You know, the guys were talking about giving you a call sign. After all, you are a pilot.”

  “Not a combat pilot.”

  “You’re better than most of them.”

  “I hate to think what your crew came up with.”

  “Lava. Rocket. Tiger. Volcano.”

  “I’m not like that!”

  “I wanted to go for Green Eyes.”

  “What?”

  He spat out seawater. “The Jimmy Dorsey hit. You’ve heard it on the radio.”

  She slapped water into his face. “Oh, cut it out!”

  He began to sing it.

  A breaker pushed Becky up against him and he put his arms around her, managing to hold on even though her skin was wet and slick. “Green Eyes, I love you.”

  “So is that my call sign then? Green Eyes? I don’t mind it.”

  “It was going to be your call sign. The guys liked it but they vetoed it.”

  “You make it sound like this was a vote in Congress.”

  “They have call signs for Kalino and Hani too.”

  “Great. Probably nice Hawaiian names. So what did I end up with? Spotted Leopard?”

  “Another song. Lockjaw wanted to go with ‘Choo Choo’—”

  “No!” Becky swallowed water and gagged.

  “And Wizard voted for ‘Chica Chica Boom Chic.’”

  Becky was still sputtering. “What—stop goofing around—what did—”

  “Artie Shaw. Doing Hoagy Carmichael’s song, ‘Stardust.’”

  “I don’t—know that—”

  “Gee, even the Amish must know, ‘Stardust
.’”

  “Sing—it—”

  “I’d need a trumpet or trombone. It’s a solo.”

  “What’s so great—about it?”

  Raven lifted her up out of the water. “What’s so great about it? Are you kidding me? Everyone loves the song—just like everyone loves you.”

  “Everyone does not—” A whitecap smacked into her mouth. She coughed and choked.

  “Whistler told us the saying goes, If you seek God you will find him in Artie Shaw’s solo in ‘Stardust.’”

  “That’s—”

  Because she had her face toward the sea the surf always found her. A wave silenced her, filling her mouth. Finally she twisted around in Raven’s arms so that, like him, her back was to the breakers.

  “Whew. That’s better.” She looked at his face as sea foam ran off his cheeks and forehead. “So, Stardust? That’s it? That’s me?”

  “That’s you. I can’t believe you’ve never heard the song. It’s got incredible swing. It’s soft. It’s got the right amount of energy and beat. It’s you, baby. When you hear it you’ll be impressed that the guys tagged you with it.”

  “It’s you, baby? Since when do you call me baby?”

  “The guys do, so why can’t I?”

  “Swell. The guys do.”

  “Don’t take it the wrong way. Lockjaw’s interested in Kalino and Wizard’s head over heels with Hani and Batman is googly eyes over some nurse at the naval hospital. They’re not after Becky Whetstone anymore. They just plain like her.” He gave her a quick kiss before the sea broke over them again. “When you hear the song you’ll get it.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Let me look into it. Did you know Harrison plays the trumpet? No kidding, Batman and Robin have him lined up for the Christmas dance band at Wheeler.” He began to wade out of the crash and roar of the ocean with her in his arms. “Cold yet?”

  “A little.”

  “By the light of the silvery moon, I want to spoon, to my honey I’ll croon love’s tune, honeymoon keep a-shining in June, your silvery beams will bring love dreams, we’ll be cuddling soon, by the silvery moon.” Raven ran up the beach. “You ready to spoon? And don’t tell me you don’t know what that means.”

  “I know what it means, hotshot. I just can’t figure out what’s gotten into you. All these songs and tunes, and now suddenly I’m Stardust and fair as the moon and majestic as the stars in the heavens.”

  Raven placed her down on the sand and laid himself beside her. “You can’t figure it out?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “This is the first time I’ve seen you since you told me you loved me and you can’t figure it out?”

  “Well, I…” She looked up at him, using her hand to shield her eyes from the bright moonlight. “You’re like a bottle of Coke someone shook up and popped open.”

  He laughed. “Hey, that’s good.”

  “I can’t have had that much of an effect on you. There’s something else. Or someone else.”

  “Are you kidding me? You think that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Raven looked at the drops of water that slid off her face and arms and stomach. Becky’s skin glowed under the full moon and the drops were like tiny silver mirrors. Her eyes were dark, half-closed, watching him. He picked up one of her hands and placed it against his lips.

  “You are the most beautiful woman alive,” he said.

  “Christian, you don’t have to say—”

  “I’ve talked to Billy Skipp about taking carrier training next year and getting posted to a flattop based in Pearl. A number of the guys have approached him—Batman, Wizard, Lockjaw. At first he was pretty upset about it all. Then he calmed down. He has lots of pilots who want to stay in the army. And he realizes it has nothing to do with his leadership. He said to me, ‘I’d be seeing stars too, Thunderbird. Her beauty and spirit are enough to turn any man inside out. I’ll see what I can do about your transfer.’”

  “He did not say that.”

  “He did say that.”

  “How embarrassing. He’s known my parents forever.”

  “Why is it embarrassing?”

  “He’s exaggerating. You’re all exaggerating. I’m just—”

  He put a hand to the side of her face. “You’re already dry. Are you warm enough?”

  “I guess.”

  “You have no idea what your eyes do to me, do you? The feel of your hair in my fingers. What it’s like to kiss you.” He sat up and took both her hands in his. “God. Creator. Redeemer. Thank you for the gift of this woman. She doesn’t see—so help her see. She doesn’t know—help her know. She doesn’t believe in what you’ve put inside her and what you’ve made out of her—help her believe in what you’ve created and what you have died for and how precious she is to you and to others. I’ve needed freedom—a lot of it. So has Nate. So has Becky. But I think she needs even more so she can be everything you put it in her to be. I ask you, our Father, on this night of a moon of white fire, that you will speak into being Becky’s freedom. Turn back the darkness. Bring in more of your light. Set her loose—your daughter, your child, your angel. Open up the ancient gates and set her free. And may she tonight, this very night, here on the shores of this vast sea, know also this—how much a man can love her. How much a man can be faithful to her. How much a man can be blessed by her. In the name of the strong son of God, Jesus Christ, our Lord.”

  He released her hands.

  “Lie beside me and hold me. My love.”

  He lay down and she curled into him, tucking her head against his chest.

  “Becky—”

  “Shh. No. You’ve said all that needs to be said. I feel your prayer at work in me. I feel God unbolting doors and cracking open windows. I believe you love me in a way not even Moses could love me. I believe God won’t take you away from me. He’s making something more out of me with the love you have for me. It’s astonishing. Miraculous that you can cherish me like this and it can make such a difference to my heart. This is the most perfect night of my life. Hold me closer. Don’t say anything more. Let’s listen to the sea and gaze at the light of the moon and for now, just for now, let the breeze kiss us, the warm breeze, let it put its lips to our skin, let the Holy Spirit fill us up with all his silver and all his gold, and let the love of God be enough for us. Later I’ll want you to tell me again how much I matter to you. Later I’ll want you to light another fire in my heart. But for now just let God speak, and his ocean speak. That’s all we need to hear.”

  In a few minutes, his arms wrapped around her and her head over his heart, her eyes closed and she slept. But it was not in Raven to sleep. He had never felt so alive or so grateful or so full of hope. It seemed as if the blood was singing through his bones and fingers and throat. He had all the air he needed, all the soul he needed, all the faith he needed.

  He made an effort to wake her after an hour.

  “Hey. Stardust. Hey.”

  But her breathing was deep and regular, her features like a child’s, and he didn’t try again.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Lyyndaya Whetstone was bringing baked chicken out of the oven, when Becky walked through the door in her flying gear and dropped into a chair.

  She leaned her head back. “What a day.”

  “A lot of students?”

  “A lot of students and I was bone-tired to begin with. Thank goodness I have tomorrow off. I’m going to sleep till noon.”

  Lyyndaya cut open one of the chicken pieces with a knife and examined it. “What time did you get in last night?”

  “Four.”

  Lyyndaya licked her fingers. “You’ll be twenty in March. The old gray mare ain’t what she used to be.”

  “It’s Thunderbird. He’s the problem. He has the energy of a seventeen-year-old. I’m having trouble keeping up.”

  “Shall I phone him and ask him to come over and carry you up to your bedroom?”

  “Don’t. He’d proba
bly fly over in his P-36 and do it.” Becky pushed herself to her feet. “I’m hitting the hay.”

  “Don’t you want some of my Caribbean chicken? We’re eating once your father gets home.”

  “I don’t think I’ll make it.”

  “So I’ll put some aside on a plate in the fridge.” She opened a cupboard. “What do you find to do until four in the morning?”

  “If you want to know the truth, Mom, not much more than reading the Bible and praying. He does a lot of that. And I fell asleep for a couple of hours too.”

  “Hm.” Lyyndaya looked up as she placed a breast on a plate along with a few spears of pineapple, and her eyes went to Becky’s neck. “Is that your father’s flying scarf from the Great War?”

  Becky started up the staircase. “Yes.”

  “Why are you wearing it?”

  “I found it lying around. The silk is comfortable. I like the feeling.”

  Lyyndaya licked her fingers again. “Lying around?”

  Becky kept going up the stairs. “See you.”

  Ruth was spreading out a quilt on her bed as Becky entered the room. “There. It’s done.”

  Becky stared. “It’s beautiful. But the Amish wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

  There were patches of pineapples, banana plants, waves, palm trees, and Diamond Head.

  Ruth straightened the quilt. “The Amish don’t matter. It’s for Manuku.”

  “Manuku. Who needs a quilt in Hawaii?”

  “It’s not a heavy quilt. He likes to sleep with all his windows open. Now and then if the wind is rough the apartment gets cool. So this will help.” She smiled at Becky. “A Christmas present.”

  Becky walked closer and stood over it. “The colors are amazing. So are you. My aunt is quite the artist.”

  Ruth waved a hand. “It’s a simple thing. But I hope he’ll like it.”

  “Of course he’ll like it. He likes you, doesn’t he?” Becky peeled off her leather jacket, tossed it over an armchair, and flopped on her back on her bed. “I wish I had a talent like that. There’s nothing I’ve made I can give Christian for a present.” She locked her hands under her head and looked at Ruth. “How serious are you about Manuku?”

  Ruth raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Sure, I like him. I do like him. How serious are you about Christian?”