Saving Grace: A Novel (Healing Ruby Book 3)

by Jennifer H. Westall

  “What in the world’s going on?” I asked.

  “Beats all I ever seen,” he said. “There was a report of a Japanese raid coming and everything was ordered off the field immediately. Pilots scrambled everywhere. I think a few of the guys in the 19th even got left on the ground.”

  We stood there, dumbfounded, looking north in search of approaching planes. But the skies remained clear. After a few minutes, Major Hart shook his head and turned to go. “Best get back to work. Won’t fend off any attacks by standing around.”

  I spent the rest of the morning with one eye on my work and one eye on the sky. Just after 11 A.M., the planes that had been evacuated returned to refuel. I met Henry soon afterward, and we walked across the field to the row of officers’ houses.

  “Where are you staying?” I asked.

  “I’m bunking with several fellas in the pursuit squadron down at the other end of the runway. Used to be housing for families, but after they shipped all the officers’ families back to the States, they moved a bunch of us in to clear out room in the barracks. We were the first ones to get moved, so we got the big nice house on the end. Have to share it with nine other fellas, though.”

  I showed Henry into our house and introduced him to Jim and Albert, who were sitting at the table with the radio tuned to a Manila station. When Henry shook hands with Jim, they looked at each other in curious recognition before figuring out they’d played a few rounds of golf together earlier in the summer.

  “You’re friends with Mike Sawyer, right?” Jim asked.

  “Sure,” Henry said. “We run around together from time to time.”

  “Yeah, you played in the minors back in California together.”

  Henry rocked back and forth on his heels and grinned. “Yeah, for a while. I tried to make it to the majors, but just couldn’t catch a break.”

  Roberto brought out a plate piled with rice, fish, and various fruits. We took our seats around the table and dug in. Between bites, Jim peppered Henry with baseball questions while Albert and I sat silently listening.

  “You miss it?” Jim asked.

  “Nah,” Henry said. “This is the life here. Got money in my pocket, servants at my beck and call, and I get to fly an airplane every day. Not to mention all the beautiful women. I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave.”

  I glanced over at Albert, who was staring at Henry in disbelief. “Don’t you have family back home?”

  “Well, sure.” Henry’s eyes darted over to me. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself here. They’re getting along just fine without me.”

  Albert shook his head and pushed away from the table. “I got some things to take care of. I’m sure my wife and daughter will be alarmed at the news of Pearl Harbor. Best let them know we’re still all right here.” He stomped up the stairs.

  Henry looked at me as if to ask what his problem was, but I shrugged it off. “He actually likes his family.”

  He was quiet for a moment, and the air between us seemed to thicken. Eventually he leaned back in his chair and sighed. “So, I was saying earlier that I had some things I wanted to talk to you about. Can we uh…go out on the porch for a bit?”

  “Sure,” I said, though I wanted to just say goodbye.

  Henry shook hands with Jim, and we stepped outside, leaving the door ajar so we could hear any important radio bulletins. “All right, let’s have it,” I said.

  Henry walked over to the edge of the porch with his back to me. I could tell he was uneasy, and steeled myself for the ache that would surely split me open at the mention of Ruby’s name.

  “Listen,” he started. “I’m really sorry about the way things went down when…well, after we left Cullman. I always meant to stay in touch better. Things got so crazy, and I…I wasn’t exactly sure where you were. Didn’t figure you’d want me writing to your parents.”

  “No,” I said. “Definitely not.”

  He turned to face me and leaned back against the railing of the porch. “Things haven’t been easy for any of us. I didn’t want…What I mean is…”

  He couldn’t seem to finish a sentence. What could be so hard to say to me? “Hey, that part of my life is over. There’s no need to dwell on it anymore. I’m doing all right.”

  “I see that. I just mean to say that things change over time, and what you try to do sometimes…to make things right…sometimes you just mess things up worse.”

  My gut wrenched as I thought of Ruby pushing me up from the abyss of Cold Spring, saving my life, giving up hers. I’d wanted so badly to save her, but I’d killed her instead. “Henry,” I said, my voice cracking. “I know what I did was wrong. I’ve beaten myself up for it over and over. I’ve replayed that day so many times, wondering what I could have done differently—”

  “I ain’t talking about that,” he interrupted. “Not about you, anyway. It was me. I messed things up.”

  I was so confused, but before I could press him further, I heard the strangest thing on the radio. Stepping back through the doorway, I looked over at Jim. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

  And then the announcer said it again.

  I repeat: As we speak, Clark Field is under attack.

  Jim burst out laughing and shook his head. “I wonder if the folks over in Hawaii are sitting around their radios thinking everyone’s lost their minds. Maybe it’s all one big hoax.”

  I stepped back onto the porch and walked over beside Henry. “You see anything?” We searched the clear blue sky, seeing nothing but a few stray clouds. “Clear as a bell out here,” I called back at Jim.

  Henry turned to me again and took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say this, or even if I should say anything.” He rubbed his hands over his face. I wished he’d just spit out whatever he needed to say. Then, at last, he met my gaze. “Ruby’s alive.”

  But I didn’t register his words, ’cause right then, all I saw was a brilliant white light.

  ***

  The first explosion sent me flying into the air. I blacked out. As soon as I awoke, my ears ringing, I tried to orient myself. My head ached. Blood seeped from my nose.

  I’d landed in what remained of our living room. The front wall had been blown down, and flames licked everything around me. Another explosion rocked the ground, followed by another. I pushed pieces of wall and furniture off me, rolled onto all fours, and vomited. Albert came stumbling down the stairs, which remarkably were still intact.

  As I coughed and tried to catch my breath, Henry crawled out from beneath a pile of debris about five feet away from me. “You all right?” I called.

  He nodded, coughing violently. More bombs exploded, sounding as if they were further away. Albert grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “Where’s Jim?” he said.

  Before I could respond, another bomb hit nearby, sending debris and shrapnel flying around us. I dropped to the floor again and covered my head. Water shot out of the burst pipes, drenching me and everything around me. Henry and Albert stumbled toward the back of the house. I pushed myself up to run for it.

  “Matthew! Help me.” Jim’s voice came up from beneath the rubble.

  I flung away as much as I could until I reached him. “Albert! I found Jim! Help me get him outta here!”

  I uncovered him enough to pull him free. As Albert arrived at my side, we both froze. Shrapnel had ripped a gaping wound across Jim’s abdomen. Another explosion sent us into action, and we picked up Jim as carefully as we could. We carried him out of the back of the house to the foxhole in the backyard, one concussion after another shaking the ground beneath us. Henry helped support Jim while I climbed down into the hole, then they handed Jim down to me.

  “I forgot my medical bag!” Albert yelled over the constant bombardment. “I’ll be right back!” He ran back toward the burning house and disappeared inside. Henry lay flat and covered his head while the ground continued to tremble.

  “Get inside!” I yelled.

  “No! I have to get to my plane an
d get in the air.”

  “Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

  There was a momentary pause in the explosions, and Henry jumped up. “If I can get in the air, I can shoot ’em down. Better than getting blown up down here!” He met my gaze. “Take care of yourself, Matthew.”

  And then he was gone, racing across the yard toward the airfield. I tried to focus on helping Jim. Blood gushed out of him, and his intestines had spilled out of the wound. My stomach lurched.

  Albert jumped into the foxhole and came over to us with his bag. He looked Jim over, and even he turned a shade of green. Our eyes locked, and he shook his head. Then he reached into his bag and pulled out a shot of morphine. “Here ya go,” he said. “This’ll help the pain until we can get you to the hospital.”

  Jim looked up at me with glazed eyes, his freckles livid against his pale skin. “How bad is it? I can’t look.”

  “You’ll be all right. Just hang in there.” What else could I say? I closed my eyes and prayed God would ease his pain. When I opened them again, he was dead.

  Albert and I huddled in the foxhole for a while. Time seemed to stop moving. Waves upon waves of bombs exploded across the airfield. I clutched my head. My ears hurt. My eyes ached. My stomach rolled. Then came a break in the bombing. Cautiously, Albert climbed out of the foxhole with his bag.

  “Where are you going?” I said.

  “I need to see to the wounded.”

  I watched him run toward the airfield as well, leaving me completely alone. My ears ringing, I climbed out of the foxhole and made my way through smoking debris to the edge of the airfield, where I got my first glimpse of the devastation. Everything was on fire—the planes, the hangars, the barracks, even the grass. Huge craters spread over the runway. Worst of all was the number of bodies: some lifeless, others moaning and crying out. But before I could grasp the full measure of what had happened, I heard the hum of approaching planes.

  As I took off running for the foxhole again, the rat-a-tat of machine gun fire split the air. I dove into the foxhole and closed my eyes. “God, have mercy on us,” I prayed. I tried to think of a coherent prayer, but all I could manage was to repeat my pleas for mercy, over and over.

  The Japanese strafed the entire base for what seemed like an eternity. And all I could do was sit there like a coward. Beyond the tree line, I watched as swarms of Japanese fighter planes dove down, some as close as tree-level, and laid a pattern of bullets across the site. Men scrambled to the anti-aircraft guns, blasting away until a spray of bullets took them out. Then another man would jump to the gun, blasting furiously at the diving planes.

  I gathered my courage and ran for the field. I had nothing but my pistol to shoot, and as ridiculous as it was, I opened up everything I had at any plane coming close to me. At times, it was as if I could see their faces sneering down at me. Maybe it was useless, but at least I wasn’t cowering in a foxhole.

  I was going to fight to the end if I had to.

  Chapter Four

  Ruby

  December 8, 1941

  I had to get to Henry, but I had no idea if that was even possible. Joseph suggested we go to Sternberg hospital on the army base in Manila. We could offer our services and possibly get more information about what was going on. It was the safest place to be if the city were to be bombed, so we gathered some of our meager supplies and headed for Sternberg.

  Joseph tried to catch us a cab, but it was useless as every vehicle was occupied. The burst of car horns punctuated the packed streets, and the locals rushed every which way as they hoarded any supplies they could get their hands on. We finally waved down a small buggy being pulled by an even smaller pony. The elderly Pilipino man gestured toward a rickety wooden seat.

  Joseph held out his hand to me. “I think this is the best we’re going to get for now.”

  I took his hand and climbed inside, setting the bag of supplies on my lap. Joseph climbed in next to me, and the whole buggy leaned alarmingly to his side. We exchanged nervous glances.

  “Where you go?” the old man asked, grabbing the straps beneath the pony’s head.

  Joseph answered in Tagalog, and the man nodded and tugged on the reins until the pony took a few steps forward. I felt sorry for the poor animal. It seemed as though it might collapse at any moment. “You know,” I said. “It might be faster if we just walk.”

  Joseph grimaced as he looked at the crowd. “Maybe. But it’s still probably safer to stay aboard in this mob.”

  It was no more than three kilometers to the base hospital, but getting through the crowded streets was nearly impossible, especially once we crossed over the Pasig River. I held onto the side of the buggy as it swayed back and forth with each step of the pony. Finally reaching the main entrance to the hospital, we jumped out of the buggy. Joseph gave the man several pesos and his eyes widened. He grabbed Joseph by the arm, speaking rapidly in Tagalog. Joseph shook his head and responded. As we disembarked and ran up to the front doors, I asked what the old man had said.

  “He was very grateful. Wanted to know if he should wait out here for us. I told him we wouldn’t need him.”

  I took a quick moment to thank God for putting me in the company of someone who knew his way around the city and spoke the language. I would’ve been lost and in a panic were it not for his steady thinking.

  When we reached the front desk, no one was there. We searched the hallways nearby with no luck. I wondered if this was a bad sign. Maybe they knew an attack was imminent, and had already taken shelter.

  “Let’s try the cafeteria,” Joseph suggested. “It’s about lunch time.”

  He scanned the walls until he found a sign pointing us in the right direction. We hurried along the hallway with our meager supplies still bouncing around in the bags hanging from our shoulders. Rounding a corner into the cafeteria, I saw a group of nurses and doctors all huddled around the same table.

  “Come on,” Joseph said, waving a hand for me to follow him.

  We joined the group encircling the table, and from their midst, I could hear the crackling sound of a radio. An announcer was reporting on the most recent information coming out of Pearl Harbor. The death toll was still climbing, now in the thousands, and many more were buried inside the sunken ships. I covered my mouth and for an instant, I remembered nearly drowning in my own watery grave. Panic rose up in my throat, and I let out a gasp.

  Joseph put his hand on my shoulder. “You all right?” he said, close to my ear.

  I nodded, unable to form any words. The news continued to worsen, with the announcer then reporting that Clark Field was under attack at that very moment. I took a few steps backward and fell into a chair, burying my face in my hands.

  Oh Lord, please be with Henry. Give him Your protection. Please, keep him from harm.

  I moved my hands away from my face to find Joseph kneeling in front of me. “Can I get you some water or something?”

  I shook my head. “I’m just worried about Henry.”

  “You’re so pale. Let me get you something. Have you eaten at all today?”

  “No, really. I’m fine. I just need to find a way to get to Henry.”

  It was then that I saw Janine in the huddle around the table, so I jumped up and tried to get her attention. Our eyes met, and she waved, then made her way through the crowd to us. She took the chair next to mine, and held my hands in hers.

  “Oh, Grace,” she said. “I’m so glad to see you. You must be so worried.”

  “Have you heard anything?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “We have a meeting in five minutes. Hopefully, I’ll find out more.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  She took a shaky breath and sat up a bit straighter. “I’m all right. I’m trying to only think about doing my job.” Her eyes welled up, even as she did her best to stop them. “I mean, he’s not…we aren’t even officially together or anything, but if he’s hurt…or worse…”

  My chest tig
htened, and I tried to reassure us both. “He’ll be all right. He’s a good pilot, and he knows what he’s doing.”

  She squeezed my hand and stood, swiping at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll come find you as soon as the meeting’s over.” She joined the other doctors and nurses as they left the cafeteria, leaving Joseph and me alone.

  I hated feeling so helpless. I’d never been one to sit around and wait for something to happen. “I’m going to go find some way to help out around here,” I said.

  Joseph stepped back as I moved past him and out the door. I heard his footsteps running after me. “What are you going to do?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. But I’ll do something.”

  I went back to the nurse’s station at the front entrance. This time Natalie was seated there, with a phone to her ear. As I approached, she explained into the receiver, “No ma’am, I don’t have any more information at this time.” She put the phone down and glanced up at me. It rang again. She held up a finger.

  “Hello, Sternberg Hospital. How may I help you?” She dropped her forehead into her hand. “No, I don’t have any information on that right now…Yes, we are aware of the situation…No, I don’t have any information.” She hung up, but before she could say a word, it rang again.

  She gave me an exasperated sigh. “Can I help you?”

  “I want to volunteer for something. Who should I speak with?”

  “Everyone’s in a meeting right now. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll be with you shortly.” I started to protest, but she picked up the ringing phone and went back to explaining to yet another caller that she didn’t have any information.

  I wasn’t eager to stand around and wait, so I headed down a hallway to my left. Joseph came along beside me. “Now what are you doing?”