The idea sent a nervous shudder down her spine and it was a relief to return to the safety of the group, where the air was easier to breathe.
Another jeep rattled up the driveway, and out piled Captain Riggs and two other marines Violet had met while selling pies and at the beach. Normally Riggs wouldn’t be caught fraternizing with enlisted men, but this was Christmas. Rules could be bent. Anyway, she wanted to pry more information from him.
“So which one of you is going to be Santa?” Violet asked Parker, when Ella was out of earshot.
“We invited Gizmo Santos, our local marine. Said he had a Santa costume and would be more than happy to join us.”
Irene announced that it was time to eat and wasted no time ordering the men around. “Dig here.” “Stack the rocks there.” “Don’t drop the luau leaf!” By the time they’d unearthed the meal, the men looked like miners. But no one complained.
Using card tables to extend their own, they managed to squeeze every last person in. Violet wasn’t sure how Setsuko would feel about Riggs in the house, but Setsuko remained stone-faced. Polite, but not all there. Having a Christmas celebration with one-third of her heart missing was no one’s idea of a good time. But here was the thing: the other two-thirds was in the room. In recent weeks, Violet had come to wonder if hearts grew back. Maybe even bigger. As long as you had something to water them with.
Friendship, faith, love. Any of these worked.
* * *
Despite efforts to avoid war talk, the conversation inevitably folded back to it one way or another. The boys were fired up about recent news of the Ardennes Counteroffensive in Belgium, which the press referred to as the Battle of the Bulge.
Violet’s insides had soured when she had first heard news of the surprise attack by the Germans. It reminded her of Pearl Harbor in the utter shock achieved.
Riggs, who was privy to the latest information, filled them in. “So get this, the Germans send a message to General McAuliffe of the 101st Airborne Division, who, along with the Tenth Armored Division, are defending the town. Actually, they send an ultimatum. Saying there is only one possibility to avoid complete annihilation of US troops. Our men are given two hours to surrender. When the general finishes reading the message, he crumples it up and throws it into the wastebasket, mumbling, ‘Aw, nuts.’ Now the men in his command post are stuck trying to come up with a suitable response. Everyone in the room, including Colonel Kinnard, decides McAuliffe’s initial response is as good as any. So they send the following official reply. This is word for word,” he said, clearing his throat and taking a drag of his cigarette.
The room fell silent.
“‘To the German Commander. NUTS! The American Commander.’” He nodded his head for emphasis. “And that is a capital N-U-T-S. When the German commander asks Colonel Harper, who hand-delivers the message, what that means, Harper says, ‘In plain English, go to hell.’”
All the men spoke at once. “Hot damn, that man has guts.” “Or peanuts for brains.” “I’d like to serve under McAuliffe.”
Eventually Ella asked what Violet herself was thinking. “What happened next?”
Riggs showed a rare smile. “Good question. The artillery fire turned out to be an empty threat. The Germans bombed the town but we held ’em off until backup came.”
“What does this mean for the Allies?” Zach wanted to know.
“I think we’re at a turning point in the counteroffensive.”
Parker looked grim. “Let’s hope so. Too many lives lost over there.”
Violet read the papers. So far, over sixty thousand too many.
Jean cast her a desperate look and she tapped her glass. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant, shall we? I want to hear what each one of you has planned for after this war is over. Let’s start with you, brother.”
Violet admired the easy way between Zach and Jean. She’d often wished that Ella had a sibling, someone to split the weight of the world with. Someone to confide in. That way, maybe her hurt would have been manageable and not stung so badly. But what was her hurt?
When Zach spoke, Irene Ferreira watched him with such longing that anyone could see she was a hopeless cause. “Whether it’s here or California, I want to start my own business, like Mom and Pop. But first, I’m coming back to this island for some well-earned R & R. Spend more time with all you ladies.”
He glanced toward Irene, who had turned pink at his words.
It turned out Tommy wanted to be a race-car driver, which suited him perfectly. Riggs was a career military man and would never retire, he said. Regardless of whether the plans were big or little, every man at the table was banking on dodging bullets, staying afloat and, most important, not getting captured. They had lives to live and people to love.
Parker went last. “I had an offer from the ranch to come back and work, so that’s my plan, maybe eventually finish up veterinary school. But it all depends.” He raised his glass. “I guess he was impressed with my bull-riding skills.”
* * *
Just before dinner wrapped up, bells and muffled singing emerged from the fog. The kids all moved to the edge of their seats as it drew nearer.
“Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas! Ho. Merry merry, quite contrary, how does your reindeer go?”
What on earth? Pretty soon, a red apparition half walked, half stumbled up the steps. A man in a baggy Santa suit dropped an empty-looking burlap sack on the porch and held out his arms toward Roscoe. “Rudolph, you beat me hea!” He spoke a heavy pidgin.
A low growl formed in Roscoe’s chest.
“Easy, boy. It’s only Santa,” Zach said, standing up and holding on to Roscoe’s harness.
“No more chimney, so was hard fo’ find. Can Santa eat before he talk with da kine little ones?” Gizmo asked in a stilted pidgin. His long white beard was askew and he’d stuffed the pillow into the back of his suit, not the front. Which made him look more like the Hunchback of Notre Dame than Santa Claus. Each time he opened his mouth, a cloud of alcohol burst forth.
Zach walked over to Santa, escorted him to the table and sat him down. “Mind if I make him a plate?”
“Be my guest,” Jean said, looking to the heavens and shaking her head.
Violet glared at Gizmo, then said to the kids, “Little ones, it seems that Santa isn’t feeling like himself tonight. Maybe we’ll wait until Christmas Eve to sit on his lap.”
“I’m too old, anyway,” Hiro said.
When everyone was up to their necks in smoked meat, mashed potato, cornbread stuffing casserole, pumpkin pie and frosted gingerbread men, Jean herded them into the living room. Homemade honeycomb candles had been placed on every available surface and the whole room looked like it was breathing.
Violet stopped in the doorway to take it all in.
“Don’t move, woman,” Parker said from behind her.
Without warning, he spun her around and planted a kiss on her surprised lips. Mouth closed, then open. When she’d about forgotten where she was, he pulled away and pointed up.
Mistletoe.
More flustered than she wanted to let on, Violet felt her face heating up. “And I thought you were just making a pass.”
“This isn’t my doing,” he said.
“Well, whose is it?”
She turned to Jean and Irene, who were always looking for a good excuse to kiss someone. Jean pointed to Ella. “Blame this one.”
Ella was grinning ear to ear.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ella
Mama was torn about Parker. Anyone could see that. After the kiss, she turned her big, shining eyes on me and smiled. I think at that very moment, she made up her mind. As Jean said, she was already in up to her teeth.
Last year, we didn’t go caroling. It was our first Christmas without Papa and the island was still on blackout and curfew. Nobo
dy bothered. Tonight, with Tommy and Parker strumming their guitars, our living room sounded like a lively concert hall. The soldiers sang themselves blue in the face and even Mama belted the songs out. After several rounds of “Silent Night” and “White Christmas,” I asked for “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town.” Irene tried to teach them “Mele Kalikimaka,” but it didn’t go over so well. No one could get the words except drunk Santa, who burped loudly at the end of each stanza.
When that was over, Mama and Jean handed out presents. I didn’t have any great expectations and Mama had said they’d gotten creative. I think for the soldiers, even a coconut or a rock would have seemed priceless. The only thing was, you couldn’t send anyone away from the island with a lava rock. It was bad luck. When I looked around the room at the dressed-up tree and all the warm faces, I had the sudden urge to lock all the doors and never let anyone out. Nothing would be the same once the men shipped out.
Us kids unwrapped first. Zach gave me a deck of playing cards with a different animal on the back of each one. Even better than that was a leather cowboy hat from Parker. The edges were a little frayed and it blocked my vision, but still I didn’t want to take it off.
“It’s the real deal and you can grow into it,” he said as he adjusted it back so I could see. “But promise me one thing.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’ll get your mama to take you to visit Sonny up at the ranch.” He winked at Mama as he said it.
She scrunched up her forehead.
Zach and Parker also had gifts for Umi and Hiro. That was the kind of people they were. Thoughtful to a fault, as Jean would say. And over the last couple of months, they could see that kids were kids. No matter what color. A tablet of colored paper and a knapsack for Umi, and a fishing net and an airplane spotting guide for Hiro. On any given day, he could already identify seven out of ten planes that flew past.
Pretty soon, the floor was covered in paper and cord, all to be saved and reused next year. We had learned to waste nothing. Hard to imagine, but I saw a sliver of a smile on Setsuko’s face. All this cheer must have rubbed off on her, and I decided then and there that Christmas didn’t believe in war.
There was one present under the tree I was most excited about. I grabbed it and held it out to Parker. “Open this one next. It’s for Roscoe, from all of us.”
“You hear that, buddy?” Parker said to Roscoe, who sat crouched next to the tree. He had already batted more than one ornament off and was lying in wait for the next one to move. I went and sat with him and he bumped his head into my side. Lions really are nothing more than big cats, you know.
I felt my stomach doing flips as Parker unwrapped the box. I only hoped Roscoe liked his gift more than the antlers, which he tore up soon after arrival.
Parker held it up. “Is this what I think it is?” he said.
“A lion sweater! For when it gets cold. It will while you’re gone, you know,” I said.
“Did you make this?” Zach asked.
“We all did. Setsuko is the best, but we all helped. Everyone but Hiro, who says that real boys don’t knit.”
That got a laugh from everyone. I glanced at Hiro, who rolled his eyes at me. I smiled. Roscoe was the only one who seemed unsure of his new gift. When Parker tried to wrap it around him, he rolled onto his back and grabbed the sweater with his front paws, kicking at it with his rear ones and barely missing Parker’s leg.
“No!” I yelled.
Eventually, Parker, Zach and I managed to hold Roscoe still and button the bottom together. He sniffed at the contraption, twitched his tail and settled back down. Other than one loop of pulled yarn, the sweater still held. Red suited him.
More unwrapping, and toward the end, the men insisted that Mama, Jean and Setsuko all open their presents together. On the count of three they each held up a yellow flowered apron.
“My word!” Jean cried out.
Embroidered across the front in brown were the words Honey Cow Pies.
“Our mother raised you right, didn’t she?” Jean said to Zach, wrapping her whole body around him in a hug.
“We wanted to have them done up earlier, so you could wear them while you were still open, but Mrs. Kobatake had a long line of orders before ours,” he said.
“I guess this means we’ll just have to find a way to keep our business going,” Mama said, looking at Jean.
Something must have passed between them because before I knew it, Jean was sobbing and going on about how she didn’t want the men to leave. She started up her rant that mothers should be running the country and that war solved nothing. The mood in the room went south, along with Jean.
Do not cry, do not cry, do not cry, I ordered myself.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Violet
In the middle of cleanup, Riggs tapped Violet on the shoulder. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”
She led him onto the lanai, where he wasted no time in lighting another cigarette. When he blew the smoke out, it mingled with the fog, which now seemed to be holding up the house. Riggs hoisted his belt and sat on the top step, patting the wood next to him. He moved in the way of a man who wanted to postpone telling you something you might not want to hear. Sweat appeared in the creases of her palms even before he spoke. “Tell me, how well do you know Luther Hodges?” he said.
“Very well. He was one of Herman’s close friends. Why?”
Riggs tapped his fingertips together. “I believe he was responsible for the letter in your friend’s Japanese school.”
Violet felt a stone forming in her throat. “You must have the wrong man.”
“People do things.”
“What makes you think it was Luther?” Her mind filtered through memories. Hadn’t Luther been friends with Takeo and Setsuko? Gone with Herman and Takeo to the garden in Ahualoa and been to the beach with all of them? The man lived in Honoka’a, for heaven’s sake.
“I can’t give details, but he was one of our civilian watchdogs. Only now it looks like he took things a little too far. Fabricating stuff. Takeo wasn’t the only one he’s fed the military information on, either.”
Violet stood so she was facing him. “Luther Hodges. Our shop teacher. We’re talking about the same man?”
Riggs nodded and pushed out an exhalation. His neck and shoulder muscles bulged, probably from trying to get rid of all that tar in his lungs. “Same man.”
“If this is true, what are you going to do about it?” she asked.
“I am not going to do anything, since we’re shipping out any day. To tell the truth, this is low priority. Most of these guys would have been locked up anyway.”
His words cut into her. “Not Takeo. He was minding his own business and teaching kids how to sing and grow food and be good humans. No one was being taken away anymore. You know that.”
“He ran the Japanese school. He was a leader.”
“Can’t you at least talk to someone?”
“The Feds might pursue it, but I thought you should know about Luther, seeing as he’s your friend. I would watch my back around that man.”
“What did he have to say for himself?” she asked.
“He denied everything.”
She pictured herself marching right over there and dragging him out of his house. Finding out the truth, one way or another. Telling Setsuko would be another story. “I’ll make him talk.”
Riggs frowned. “Don’t say anything. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because he might be unstable.”
“How do you mean?”
“The lying. You never can tell with some people. Just keep busy with your own life and let the Feds sort it out.”
Easier said than done.
* * *
After Riggs and his boys headed out, Violet put Ella to sleep with her cowboy hat on, an
d said good-night to Setsuko and the twins. The news could wait until morning, when it would be just the two of them.
Back in the living room, Jean, Parker, Zach, Irene and Tommy huddled together on the pune’e, with their legs spread out in all directions and Roscoe at their feet. Tommy strummed the guitar softly, in tune with the occasional cricket.
Violet got the sensation that she wanted to slow down time.
“You ladies don’t mind if we crash here, do you?” Zach asked a few songs later.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jean said.
Without making a sound, Violet lowered herself onto the rug next to Roscoe, who was by now sound asleep. His lip periodically lifted and small puffs of breath escaped. She wondered what he was dreaming. In that moment, she felt protective of him.
Conversation drifted well into the night, and one by one, people faded away. Jean roused herself to bring a stack of pillows and blankets from the closet, and Zach stretched out on the floor with his head under one of the tree branches. He spanned almost the whole width of the room. Jean fell asleep next to him with her head tucked under his armpit.
Parker sat up on the edge of the pune’e and grabbed a blanket from the chair. Do something, Violet. Here’s your chance, and it may be your last.
“Want to go outside?” she said to him in nearly a whisper. Without waiting for an answer, she moved toward the lanai. He caught up with her at the door, holding it open. If anything, the fog had condensed into a wall of white, sending tendrils in through the windows and wrapping around the posts.
“An imitation white Christmas,” she said.
“We take what we can get.”
Violet bunched up her dress and sat on the top step, like she had with Riggs. Parker lowered himself next to her. Close enough so she could feel his heat, but not close enough to touch. He had to avoid a dollop of chicken poop on the third step. By now, the crickets were in full concert, their chirps magnified by the heavy air.
Words began to pour out of her. “Everyone thinks Hawaii is all paradise and rainbows and pretty girls in hula skirts. It took me a while to realize that it’s so much more than just that. I don’t think there’s any place else on earth I’d rather be. And I have Herman to thank for that. He brought me here.”
Island of Sweet Pies and Soldiers Page 24
