Amelia

by Harvey Mendez

  “Never outrun ‘em, even in this wind. Get the weapons out of the locker.”

  She returned with two .45 caliber pistols. “I don’t think these will do us much good.”

  “Maybe I can outmaneuver them.”

  A wide beam of light from behind shot across Courage’s deck.

  “That takes care of maneuvering.” Vincent squinted.

  Amelia ducked lower in the cockpit. “They’re getting closer.”

  A spray of bullets chewed up the deck, spit out splinters, and punctured the sails.

  Her body jerked. “What’ll we do?”

  “Hang on!” He pulled the wheel hard starboard.

  The other boat’s spotlight flooded the cockpit.

  Vincent aimed his .45, shot five rounds into the light. A thunderous blast rocked their boat, knocked him next to Amelia.

  “Some shot.” She held onto him with both hands.

  He smiled. “Just tried to shoot out the light. Guess that old C-4 was okay after all.” He tacked hard upwind.

  They looked back at the burning boat sinking in the water.

  “Just like the movies,” he said.

  Amelia snuggled close. “Yeah, just like the movies.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Vincent released Amelia, glanced past the stern. Burning debris from the other boat floated on the water. “That’s that. But they must’ve radioed ahead.”

  “If they’re on Saipan, they know we’re coming.” Amelia moved close again, her body trembled.

  “But not when.” He squeezed her, stopped the trembling. “I could hold you all night, but you better go below, get some sleep.”

  “Right. You be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll make this a long watch.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

  Amelia slipped out of her clothes and fell into her berth.

  After an hour, she still lay awake, eyes closed but images of a burning boat etched on her eyelids. She wiped sweat from her eyes, put the fire out, and pushed her pillow against the bulkhead. How many times could they escape disaster?

  Moonlight cast silver beams into the cabin, glistened off her damp body. Amelia sat propped up, body listless, mind moving, and stared at the glow. Might as well go keep Vincent company.

  She opened a locker, rummaged through a bag of clothes. Her hand closed around the envelope she had stuffed there back at the hut. “Vincent’s letter to AE.” She turned on a light, unfolded the handwritten pages.

  July 2, 1939

  Dear AE,

  Well, it’s that day again... I hope I don’t ramble on too much, but these thoughts have been buried inside me too long. I know you’re out there, someplace. You wouldn’t let the ocean take you and I know you own the sky. Now, if the Japanese have you—that’s a different matter. It’s born in you—to never give up—to never be satisfied.

  Guess the first thing I noticed about you, besides those blue-gray eyes full of laughter, was your hands. Long, delicate fingers—amazing, considering all the work you did on your planes.

  How can I ever deal with the loss of you? The hours we spent working on the Electra. Your subtle way of getting your point across, showing all of us integrity must prevail.

  All your medals and decorations, you never showed them off. You told me, “I know I did it.” Just your modest way.

  Now you’re gone and I miss you. I had no right to be anything more than a friend, but it’s hard keeping all my feelings tucked away.

  Amelia’s eyes riveted on the words. She placed the letter on her lap, took a big gasp of air. Moisture welled in her eyes. She stared up the companionway.

  Vincent had loved AE so much. She must have known. Such passion would have pierced the toughest barrier. Amelia sighed, picked up the letter again.

  I couldn’t believe G.P. declared you legally dead last December so he could marry again. Well, maybe that’s the way you’d want it. After all, I know how you felt about marriage—no antiquated ties. But, I couldn’t have done what he did.

  In my eyes, you will never die, even though you said you wouldn’t live to be old. Every time I look at the sky, I see you slicing through clouds or climbing into the sun searching new horizons.

  I’ll never have courage enough to show you this letter, but I had to write it. Two years ago, I waited on Nauru tracking your plane toward Howland. When they flashed it over my receiver that you were down at sea, I couldn’t believe it. I just sat staring at the radio, not moving. Then my eyes let go.

  You said you were quite aware of the hazards of that last flight, but you wanted to do it. How long you had dreamed of flying around the belly of the earth.

  Maybe that was one of those times you just needed for being alone. I know there are depths within you no one can touch.

  If destiny is true, then the world will never forget you. I know I won’t. Many plaques and monuments will honor you, but the one etched on my heart is eternal. To say I love you may seem trite, but I do—I always will.

  Vincent

  Amelia, misty-eyed, put down the letter. She laid her head back, stared out the porthole at the stars. AE, he loved you so.

  The cabin door burst open. Vincent walked across the room, saw the envelope.

  “Where did you find that?”

  She flinched at the loudness of his voice. “At—in the hut. It fell out of an old magazine.”

  “I’d forgotten about it.” His eyes opened wide. “Wasn’t supposed to be for anyone but me.”

  “Or AE, if she ever came back.” Amelia waited for an angry outburst.

  It never came. Vincent picked up a page, read a few lines. He scanned the rest of the words, then pierced Amelia’s stare.

  She saw wetness in his eyes and moved close to him. “I’m sorry. I knew you loved her, but I didn’t realize how much.”

  He looked away. “It was so personal, things I never shared with anyone.”

  “I know, but it made me understand your capacity for deep feelings, even though you hide them.”

  “Maybe so—part of my training.”

  Amelia pressed closer. “Well, it’s time we forgot your training and let out what we really feel.”

  “Sounds good to me.” He looked down her backlit body.

  “Oh, I forgot. I was going to put on a pair of shorts and come on deck with you. So hot, I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Good, come up.” He basked in her nakedness. “If you were anymore beautiful, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  She lifted her face to his. “I think you’d know.”

  “You’re right.” He touched her. His kiss was long and tender.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Late afternoon the sixteenth day out Vincent spotted the large reef sheltering Saipan’s western shore from the Philippine Sea. The water foamed white over coral, washed into a warm, jade-colored lagoon.

  “Wow, beautiful.” He guided the boat through the reef. “Quite a difference from wartime.”

  Amelia stood at the railing. “I was so little then. We were scared. Mother hid us.”

  “I would’ve been scared, too. We lost a lot of Marines before we secured the island.”

  “Dad told me—he was right in the middle of the action.”

  “Did he find you after the fight?”

  “Yes, I’ll never forget it. That’s why home is so special.”

  They entered Tanapag Harbor’s crystalline waters.

  “Look.” Vincent pointed. “That rusty metal sticking out of the water.”

  “Careful, war junk’s all over Tanapag.”

  He followed the jagged outline of the ship. “Wonder what’s really down there?”

  “A Lockheed Electra, that what you’re hoping?”

  “Why not? This was a Japanese stronghold.” He peered into the water. “If it’s not under here, it’s buried in some field or canyon.”

  Amelia gazed across the large harbor. “So much is buried here. Too bad Dad couldn’t . . .” She tightened her hold on the ra
iling. “Anyway, it’ll be great to see Mother.”

  “Let’s hope we find some answers.”

  She pointed to a small island. “Harry and I used to picnic there. It’s called Managaha.”

  “Good old Harry.”

  “We were close friends then.”

  Vincent looked across the water. “I’d like to know more about his father.”

  “His father’s still here. I think I told you. He runs some kind of export business.”

  He turned toward her. “Did Stan know him well?”

  “I’m not sure. Kinda got the idea Mr. Sakura thought the Japanese should still own our island.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Why do you say that?”

  “Just a feeling. He wasn’t very friendly. Didn’t do business with the locals.”

  “Stan must have put that together.”

  “If he did, he didn’t say anything to me before they—” She stopped, her mouth open.

  Vincent extended a hand.

  She clasped it. “He won’t be there to meet me this time.”

  “I know.” He squeezed her fingers.

  “Sorry. We spent so much time here when I was young. He told me all his old war stories. Sometimes I got bored—now I wish I could hear them again.”

  “Stan had a knack with stories. Lot of history lies here.”

  “He told me he landed with the Marines at Invasion Beach. Said the Japanese put up a terrific fight, made the Americans retreat.”

  Vincent checked the wheel. “We called it ‘The Marianas Turkey Shoot’, but that was in the air. On the ground, the fighting was fierce. The Japanese were a gritty lot.”

  “No surrender in them. They’d commit suicide first. Dad told me about these soldiers who hid in the hills and fought on for years after the war ended before they walked out and gave up.” Amelia took a deep breath. “Did you ever think AE might do the same?”

  “She could,” he said. “That’s partly why I’m here.”

  “Is the other part love?” She half smiled.

  “You know it is.” He motored past the harbor’s mid-point toward the dock. “Not much traffic.”

  “Siesta time.” Amelia squinted at the moored boats in the marina. “A Chamorro custom.”

  He looked at his watch. “Not a bad custom. We made it just in time.” He throttled down, came alongside a weathered wooden pier.

  Amelia secured the bowline. “I can’t wait to see Mother. Been tough without Dad, but she’d never tell you.”

  Vincent heaved the stern line. Amelia made it fast.

  “How did Stan and your mom meet, anyway?” He hopped off the boat.

  “Well, it must’ve been the early part of 1939 because I was born in 1939. She only told me this when I was older. Mother suddenly moved to Guam. “I don’t know how she did it with the Japanese and all.”

  “They must have given her permission. Did she know someone high up?”

  “I don’t think so.” Amelia hesitated. “She was afraid of them. So were we kids. They were brutal.”

  “I can believe that. The Chamorros were probably treated like slaves.”

  “I’m sure we were,” she said, “ except for the ones paid as spies. Japan was getting ready for war. I only remember things during the war.”

  “So, how did your parents finally get together?”

  “Tell you in the cab. Mother lives in Chalan Kanoa Village.”

  “A real cab, eh?”

  “Saipan’s quite a Japanese tourist attraction, now.”

  They hailed a dilapidated taxi, threw their gear into the trunk, and rode down Beach Road, lined with palms and large mangrove trees.

  “Jobs were hard to find on Guam,” Amelia said. “Mother would have starved if it hadn’t been for the local people. She slept in sheds near cane fields. Almost lost hope until she overheard workers talking about jobs at the American base.”

  Vincent turned from the window. “This was in thirty-nine? Hmmm. Two years after AE went down.”

  “Yes, Mother was hired by an officer’s wife as their live-in housekeeper. She thought it was a gift from God.”

  “That’s where she met Stan?”

  “He was invited to dinner one night. He couldn’t get over Mother’s beauty. She was only twenty.”

  “So, they fell in love right away?”

  “Dad was so handsome in his uniform and Mother had beautiful eyes, long dark hair, and a petite, curvy figure.”

  “Kinda like you.” Vincent touched her hand.

  Amelia smiled. “At first she thought Dad only wanted to know her because she was from Saipan. He was always asking about AE.”

  “How did your mom find out about Stan and AE?”

  “The whole base called him ‘The Amelia Man’. Rumors from the natives had it she was being held at Garapan Prison. They thought he was nuts. Nobody knew why he was so interested in her.”

  “Wonder if he ever told your mother he’d worked at Lockheed?” Vincent sighed. “I lost track of him after I left. Had no idea he joined the Marines and ended up on Guam or that he was looking for AE, too.”

  Amelia patted his hand. “They were so attracted to each other she just put up with his fascination for Amelia Earhart. Mother knew he was the man for her—that it had to be. I never could figure out exactly what she meant by that. Anyway, then they were married at the base chapel.”

  “And the Japanese took Guam two years later. How did Stan get out?”

  “That’s another story. The Japanese sent her back to Saipan. I was born there.”

  Amelia turned to the window. “Oh, look.” She pointed to ruins half-buried in the jungle. “That’s what’s left of Garapan Prison.”

  Vincent stuck his head out the window. “We’ve got to come back here.”

  “We will. We’ve got lots of time.”

  Along the road, they passed magnificent red flame trees, glowing in the fading light. A tilted sign said Gualo-Rai Village lay a half-mile ahead.

  “Let’s get something for your mother,” Vincent said.

  “She’d like that. She loves surprises. By the way, her first name is Joaquina.”

  “Pretty name.”

  They stopped at a small store, bought a white plumeria bouquet and a box of imported chocolates.

  At Invasion Beach, they passed the World War II monument honoring fallen U.S. troops. Vincent’s face tensed. “They were so young.”

  “Dad was lucky.” Amelia stared at the monument. “At least, then.”

  “I know.” He squeezed her hand.

  In Chalan Kanoa Village, the streets became coral-surfaced and bumpy. The taxi stopped at a small, green wooden house built on stilts with a galvanized roof that glinted in the sunset. Small waves pushed on the beach behind the house.

  Vincent and Amelia walked on the short path, sending skinny chickens scurrying under the house.

  “Hello, Hafa Adai.” Amelia opened the screen door. “Mother?”

  A heavy-set, dark-eyed woman appeared in the front room. A touch over five feet tall, she displayed a wide grin on her round face. Her salt and pepper hair was wrapped in a tight bun. She wore a long muumuu, splashed with bright tropical flowers.

  “Amelia!” She hastened to her daughter. They hugged and kissed each other on both cheeks. Joaquina’s eyes filled with tears. “Hafa Adai, the Good Lord has brought you home safe. I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I missed you, too, Mother.” Tears also welled in Amelia’s eyes.

  “I was so worried about you, going off alone to that big city after your father passed on—so soon after Steven . . .” She noticed Vincent and pulled back.

  Amelia squeezed Joaquina again. “I’m doing okay, really. How about you?”

  “It’s been lonely, but—”

  “Too bad I never had any brothers or sisters.”

  Joaquina’s face tightened, and she eyed Vincent closer. “Who is this man with you?”

  Amelia released her mother, reached for his hand. “This is
Vincent.”

  He stepped forward; the wooden floor creaked. Man, when was the last time he’d met a girl’s mother? He shifted his weight.

  Joaquina extended her hand. “Welcome Vincent, a friend of my daughter’s is always welcome.”

  He handed her the bouquet and candy. “Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Adams.”

  Her brown face beamed. “How nice, thank you, come sit down. What brings you back home so soon, Amelia?”

  “We had a super idea, Mother.” She glanced at Vincent, then at Joaquina. “We came for Dad’s notes on Amelia Earhart.”

  The smile left Joaquina’s face. She sniffed the flowers, twisted the bouquet in her hands. “His secret notes—they are better left buried, like her.”

  “Vincent is more interested in Amelia Earhart then Dad was.”

  Joaquina furrowed her brows. “Many men have come and gone looking for her.”

  “AE’s buried here on Saipan?” Vincent asked.

  “I didn’t say that.” Her tone was cold.

  Amelia brightened. “Vincent even knew Dad.”

  Joaquina’s head jerked up. “He knew my Stan?”

  “Yes,” he said, “we worked together at Lockheed before the war.”

  “Isn’t that something?” Amelia watched her mother’s reaction. “Now, what about Dad’s papers?”

  “Not sure where they are.” Joaquina fidgeted with the flowers. “I don’t understand why you’d want them.” Her face pensive, she turned. “Your father got into trouble whenever he investigated her.”

  “Trouble?” Vincent asked.

  Joaquina did not answer.

  “They must be here someplace,” Amelia said. “It’s really important.”

  Joaquina’s face paled. “I told you those papers bring no good.” She flipped a fly off her plump arm. “Forget them. Now, you two must be hungry.” She ambled into the tiny kitchen nestled in the rear of the house and began to cut up several green vegetables.

  Vincent and Amelia exchanged glances.

  “She may be a tough nut to crack,” he said.

  “When she wants.” Amelia patted his arm.

  “I must make you Escabeche.” Joaquina hurried to the icebox for fresh sea bass. “You’re right, I am tough, when it involves someone I love.”