“What’ll that do?”
“It’s a crucial piece of history,” he said.
Eva sat up so she could see his face. “From what Billy said, it sounds like this whole cover-up went far beyond those radio signals. Washington knew this was coming long before we crossed the Pacific.”
“But the public should know.”
People did have a right to know, and yet if those men who worked for Billy got a whiff that she was making trouble, they might make good on their threats.
“Wait until things settle. The damage has been done,” Eva said.
He frowned. She thought he was going to argue, but instead he pulled her down and buried his face in her hair. The warmth of his body against hers, his spicy smell and all that love seeping into her gave her a warm feeling in the center of her chest. They had survived another day. They were together. They were breathing. This was what mattered above all.
But those boys at Pearl Harbor would never get this chance.
Death is never fair. Life is never fair.
“We’ll lie low for now and let Ford take over, but I won’t forget,” he said.
“Never.”
* * *
A hollow knocking woke Eva, who saw that Clark was already slipping into a robe and shuffling toward the door. In the predawn hours, the room was still dim. For a split second she debated climbing out the back window, but that was not the answer. They both had slept fitfully and Clark had broken out in several cold sweats, but was adamant about not returning to Tripler. Eva had made sure to clean his wounds well.
A man’s voice cut through the thick morning air followed by the heavy clunk of boots on the wooden floor. Ford had said he would handle it, and Eva had been attempting to delude herself that with his senior position he might somehow be able to pull some strings and sweep the whole thing under the rug. It was wishful thinking, she knew.
She had killed a man.
“Is Miss Cassidy here with you? We need to speak with her,” the voice said.
Clark answered, “Have a seat, I’ll go get her.”
When he opened the door to the room, she was already sitting up and pulling on her dress.
She was terrified on so many levels and yet ready to come clean.
One look in her direction and his pinched face broke into a small smile. “You look pretty harmless to me, but they need to speak to you. Just tell them what happened,” he said quietly.
She just hoped these men weren’t in cahoots with Billy’s thugs and once they got her out of the house, they would drag her out to the cane fields. Eva splashed some cool water on her face, smoothed back her hair and walked into the kitchen. She was beyond caring whether she looked presentable or not.
Two men in uniform stood by the door. Navy from the looks of it. “Miss Cassidy?” the smaller of the two said.
“That’s me,” she said, relieved to the bone that he had not said Olson.
“As you can probably guess, we need you to come with us for questioning in the death of Lieutenant William Irving,” he said.
The other one stood as straight as a beanpole and just as expressionless. Clark handed her a banana. “Can you bring her back here when you’re finished?” he asked the men.
“Depends on what transpires,” the speaker said.
Eva felt her knees go weak. Clark gave her a look that said, You can do this, and saw them all to the door. If only she had the same kind of confidence as he did. On the way to wherever they were taking her, she sank back into the cracked leather seat and looked out the window. Coconut trees next to blown-up buildings, shredded jeeps and the smoking ruins of battleships sitting across the glassy waters.
She thought about Billy and that first day down by the stream, each trying to shoot a smaller target, at a farther distance, and impress their respective fathers. He had turned on the charm full force and she had fallen for it. But had she really ever loved him? Or known him, for that matter? She had loved the idea of him to be sure, but looking back, she came to understand that the Billy she knew had been a flimsy impostor of a much darker man. She forced herself to put him out of her mind, instead watching a pair of black, kite-shaped seabirds hovering over the shore.
After ten minutes of driving, Eva finally asked, “Where are we going?”
Neither man answered.
“Excuse me, but don’t I have a right to know?” she said.
“Patience, ma’am.”
When they pulled up to a gray concrete building on the far side of Pearl Harbor with no signs out front, Eva grew jumpy. Her heart was racing and skipping and threatening to give out. They ushered her down a long hallway with gray doors on both sides, and into a room with a table, chairs and a mirror.
The beanpole man offered her coffee, which she gladly accepted, and the three of them had a seat on hard wooden chairs.
“My apologies for not introducing ourselves earlier. I’m Sergeant Perry. Captain Billings and I were briefed by Ford about what went down yesterday with Irving, and we need to take your statement.”
Captain Billings lit a cigarette with a bandaged hand. He had the look of a bad boy who had turned over a new leaf, with a blotchy tattoo peeking out from his shirtsleeve and a disinterested look on his face.
“Fine,” Eva said, shivering even though the air in the room was stale and warm.
“Why don’t you just start from the beginning? Tell us who Irving was to you, and what led up to the events yesterday.”
It felt like an inquisition and reminded her of being questioned about Tommy Lemon. Only this time she was guilty and everyone knew it. Clark had instructed her repeatedly to stick to the facts. The less you say the better. Still, the whole story poured out of her, and with each word that came, she felt lighter.
We had a long-distance love affair. He proposed, but I wasn’t ready. He knew I had met Clark on the Lurline. He followed us and tried to kill us.
“Why were you two in Waimea Valley, Miss Cassidy?” Perry asked.
She felt herself tense.
“Clark had told me that in case the Japanese invaded Oahu, it would be a good place for us nurses to hide out. He was showing me where to go,” she said as naturally as her voice would allow.
Billings ashed his cigarette and took a sip of coffee. “Isn’t Lieutenant Spencer badly wounded?”
“He is, but he was worried about us, especially after seeing firsthand what the Japanese are capable of. He took the risk.” Her voice sounded small and unconvincing.
The two men exchanged glances, and then Perry said, “Slow down and tell us what led to you shooting Lieutenant Irving.”
Eva went over how he forced them up the foggy trail with the gun pointed at their backs, and what happened at the edge of the cliff. “He lifted his gun to shoot Clark, but I’m a better shot. He left me no choice.”
“You got anyone that can corroborate that?” Perry asked.
Sure, back in Michigan, where everyone knows me as Evelyn Olson. “Of course.”
“We can collect names and numbers later.”
“Certainly,” she said with a forced smile.
“And it was Irving’s gun that he had given you at the hospital, correct?” Billings said.
She nodded. “Correct.”
“Why did he give you a gun?”
“Again, in case the Japanese came ashore.”
“So you had two men looking out for you. Sounds like it could have been complicated...” Billings said, letting his voice trail off.
Perry leaned back and folded his arms. “Yes, sirree.”
She didn’t bite. “I told you everything.”
The two men continued at her from various angles, but since her story was true for the most part, they didn’t seem to be able to find any holes in it. After an hour or so of questioning, they loaded her back up in the car and del
ivered her to Clark’s doorstep. They told her they would be in touch if they had any more questions. And not to leave the island.
As if leaving were possible.
Eva watched them drive away and for the first time in days, had a feeling of reluctant hope. Life was moving forward, one way or another.
* * *
Clark had left a note saying he was at the Dungeon, which was foolish of him in his state. It was still early, and Eva cleaned up and went straight to the hospital on the off chance that she would find Dr. Newcastle in his office. Beams of morning sun painted the hospital walls honey colored and gave the place a warm and almost cozy feel.
So many souls lost here, but so many souls saved, too. Men with grit. Men with heart. No matter what happened with Newcastle, this place and its people would live on tucked inside her until her dying days. But she also came to realize how desperately she wanted to stay and finish what she’d started. It was as essential as air.
Eva was meant to be here.
The hallways were silent but for the click of her heels. Dr. Newcastle’s office was in the back of the first floor; his door was closed. She sucked in a deep breath. Knocked. Half of her wanted him to answer, the other hoped he was out doing rounds. A moment later the door swung open and they stood face-to-face. As usual, he looked fresh and rested. Did the man ever sleep?
“I take it you’ve come to have that talk,” he said.
“I have.”
He stepped back and ushered her in, pointing not at the bent metal chair in front of his desk, but toward a cracked leather love seat. Eva sat, worried her voice would fail her, and chewed her lip while considering where to begin. Several old photographs lined the walls, along with diplomas and certificates. She scanned them, and her gaze skidded on one that nailed her to the couch.
Dr. Newcastle started in. “From the first time I saw you, I thought you looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint where I’d seen you...” He let the words fall away and stared at her, waiting.
Eva coughed, cleared her throat and swallowed a big wad of dread. “I see that you completed orthopedic training at Hollowcreek General. You must know Dr. Brown,” she said.
Of all the places for him to end up.
He flattened his lips together. “You could say that.”
“Look, Dr. Newcastle, I think we both know why I’m here. My real name is not Eva Cassidy, it’s Evelyn Olson. I really am a nurse, but I got into a situation at Hollowcreek, which I’m guessing you know about, that left me unhireable, so I changed my name and fudged my papers. Is that what you want to hear?”
Newcastle rose and went for the pot on his desk. “Coffee?”
This was not going as expected.
“Sure. Thank you.”
He took his time pouring, adding cubes of sugar and a generous pouring of cream, and stirring. Meanwhile, Eva felt her courage leaking away. She wanted this to be over with, and he seemed to be enjoying dragging it on.
“You lied,” he said, handing her the coffee and joining her.
She nodded. “Yes, but I had no choice. Tommy Lemon’s death was not my fault. In fact, had the doctor listened to me, he never would have died. Nursing is my life, and Dr. Brown unrightfully took it away from me.”
“Tell me your side of the story,” Dr. Newcastle said.
Eva told him. Every word, every drop of medicine, every last vital sign. When she finished, he glanced up at the wall, eyes resting on the certificates.
“Dr. Brown was my teacher. He knew his stuff, but he had a flaw,” he said.
Eva was beyond caring about propriety. “I’ll say.”
“To lose sight of the fact that you’re capable of error is fatal in a doctor, and he never had that sight in the first place,” Newcastle said.
“He’s not the only one,” Eva argued, not wanting to point out that Newcastle had leanings toward being that way, too.
His knee bumped up against hers and she wasn’t sure if it was by accident or on purpose. “Doctors are a tough breed, but we aren’t all the same. I think of Brown when I want to remind myself how not to be.”
Had she heard correctly? “Excuse me?”
“He used to have a saying that he used residents to wipe his ass. What kind of man says that?”
“An arrogant one.”
Hope twitched in her chest.
Dr. Newcastle continued, “When I read the story about Tommy Lemon’s death in the paper, I knew Brown was to blame. No doubt in my mind.”
The sweetest words she could have ever heard, but too late to change anything.
“That lie ruined my life,” she said.
“You can see it like that. Or you can believe that it brought you here to Pearl Harbor, to Tripler, where you’ve saved a hell of a lot more lives than you would’ve back home in Michigan.”
Her father would have said the same thing. Life is full of reasons, most which will only reveal themselves miles down the road.
“So I’m not fired?” she dared to ask.
“Far from it, Miss Olson.”
ARMY, NAVY CHIEFS OUSTED OVER PEARL HARBOR UNPREPAREDNESS!
—Headline of the Los Angeles Examiner, War Extra, December 18, 1941.
SISTER LOVE
December 25, 1941
Dearest Eva,
Merry Christmas! Though I know it is far from merry and I am worried sick about you, I’m trying to keep a positive mind about things. Every last inch of ground is covered in powdery snow, and it truly is a winter wonderland, but I miss you and I miss Dad. Being in the hospital is no place to be for the holidays, as you know, but the staff has done their best at adding trees and lights and cheer to the place. Say, do I ever have news for you. Are you sitting down? I hope so, because I’m not—I’m standing! It’s true, my legs are growing stronger and I’m able to stand for periods of time. I’m working on lifting my legs and my feet, and I’ve been following your words of wisdom. All this movement is helping me so much that the doctors and nurses are stunned. Walking is next. I can feel it. It’s not easy, but I’ve stuck with it, mainly so I can get out of the cold and come visit you. They say that warmth would be good for me and even though there’s a war going on, I’d rather be with you in the middle of a war zone than without you altogether.
But here’s some other big news. It turns out my new nurse, Samantha, was in the room with you that fateful day—she’d gone in to get sheets. Not only that, but we’ve become close and she confided in me that Dr. Brown almost left a pair of forceps in a patient, until she convinced him to open the man back up. Sure enough, they were lodged against the man’s innards. Can you believe that? Brown told her she’d be fired if she told anyone. I’ve convinced her to go to the board and tell, along with a few other nurses. She’s also agreed to come forward on Tommy Lemon. You heard me right. I will keep you posted on what transpires, but I have a good feeling.
Anyway, these are the two most wonderful Christmas gifts a girl could ask for. As far as I’m concerned, Santa Claus can fly right on past. I keep one ear glued to the radio and pray that you will be kept safe and sound. Stay out of trouble.
Love from home,
Ruby
A FEW GOOD MEN
May 1942
While Clark walked down to the Dungeon, he counted his blessings with each step. In hindsight, he found it ludicrous to imagine himself ever questioning whether to pursue Eva or not. Love didn’t give a damn about wars or lost wives and cracked hearts. Love was more an unruly guest that showed up knocking when you least expected it. The big test was always whether or not to open the door and invite it in.
Clark thought back to that first night on the Lurline, when dinner had ended and Eva left the table and slipped out the door. The feeling that someone had wrapped a leash around his neck and was yanking him after her was inexplicable, and yet he had followed along blindly. He
had excused himself just in time to see her slip into the bar. Outside the bar, he had stood for a full five minutes debating whether to go in after her. In fact, he had turned to leave, but literally could not walk away. Now he knew why.
Eva was the answer to a question he didn’t even known he was asking.
When the heavy metal door clicked behind him, he moved across the smoky room to Ford’s desk. The Dungeon had been a hotbed of all-nighters and frenetic activity for months now, but ever since mid-May, the pace had doubled. JN-25, the Japanese code, was all but cracked, and the Imperial Japanese Navy was gearing up for another big offensive. A lucky intercept sent to a Japanese supply ship, the Goshu Maru, had revealed the location. The ship was to “load its base equipment and ground crews and advance to Affirm Fox ground crews. Parts and munitions will be loaded on the Goshu Maru...everything in the way of base equipment and military supplies which will be needed in the K campaign will be included.”
Clark and the boys had been tearing their hair out trying to convince Washington that Midway Atoll was the target. They knew that the A in AF stood for American, in fact Station HYPO had confirmed more than fifty sites—AH being Hawaii, for example—and back in March had made the connection that AF meant Midway. But some of the people at OP-20-G were unconvinced, even going so far as to say it was a trap. Such men of little faith, Clark hated that they held so much power over HYPO.
It was the morning of the nineteenth and Ford had asked Clark and a few other analysts in their tight inner circle to come in for a “golf” meeting, which meant important. In his customary orange smoking jacket, Ford pulled up a chair and said, “It’s come down to this, fellas, Admiral Nimitz says he can’t stake the entire Pacific Fleet on radio intelligence. No more guessing, we need to prove without a doubt that AF is Midway. So if any of you have an idea, I’m all ears.”
“It’s already plain as day,” said Hammersmith.
Ford shrugged. “They need it plainer.”
Clark glanced over at Huckleberry, who leaned against a tower of crushed file boxes and stared at a crack on the wall. In times like these, with all his years of experience, Huckleberry had a tendency to draw brilliant ideas from the atmosphere. He might need a little extra time to think, but then bam, problem solved.
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