by Dean Hughes
“I know, Ishi. I feel the same way.” Bobbi took Ishi in her arms, patted her back. “We’re going through some of the same things. I think we understand each other.”
When Ishi stepped back, she said, “You asked me about intermarriage, and I do have to say, I’ve always been against it. But I’m starting to feel there are things more important than race. You can see why I would feel that way.”
Bobbi nodded. “Sure. That’s what I’m feeling too.”
Bobbi went outside then and called Lily and David in. The four ate together and chatted.
“How are you doing in school?” Bobbi asked Lily.
“I go to school,” David said. He was only three, but he always wanted to be part of the conversation.
“You do?” Bobbi asked.
“He means he will go to school,” Lily said. “When you’re a big boy, huh, David?”
“I am a big boy.” He nodded his head twice, then once more, with exaggerated emphasis.
“But when you’re bigger.”
“Uh huh.”
Bobbi went back to her first question. “Do you like school, Lily?”
“Yes. I’m in the first reading group. I can read fat books. All by myself.”
“Maybe after dinner you can read to me.”
“I will. I’ll read a whole book to you.”
“Maybe just part of one,” Ishi said, laughing. “We have to go back to church before too much longer.”
Lily was eating with chopsticks–something Bobbi was still not very good at. “Sometimes, when we’re reading, we have to stop and get under our desks,” Lily said.
“Is that for air-raid drill?”
“Yes. In case the Japs come to bomb us.”
“Lily!”
Lily was still eating, and she didn’t look up. She seemed to know what her mother was about to say. “I’m not a Jap. Steven–the boy who sits next to me–he said I’m a Jap. But I’m not. I’m Japanese American.” She finally looked at her mother.
“No one is a Jap, Lily,” Ishi said. “Don’t use that word.”
Lily shook her head. “Someone is. All the kids at school say so. Japs can drop bombs on us if we don’t hide under our desks.”
Bobbi wanted to say, “Lily, no one will drop bombs on you,” but she knew that she couldn’t make that promise. She also had no idea how to disconnect a country, a government, from a race of people, and make it clear to Lily that she was not the enemy.
Ishi said, “Lily, we’ve talked all about this. In war, sometimes people drop bombs. But there are good people who live everywhere.”
“I know,” Lily said.
Still, Bobbi wondered. How could a child understand that? How could anyone?
After dinner, the children went back outside, where they had a little sandpile to play in. Ishi and Bobbi cleared the table and washed the dishes, and then they sat down in the living room. The Sunday paper was on the coffee table. Bobbi had seen the Honolulu paper that morning, briefly, but now she glanced again at the stories on the front page. The big news was that the battle for the Philippines had begun.
“What’s all this going to mean for your brother?” Ishi asked. “Will he be freed now?”
“I don’t know. Apparently a lot of the prisoners have already been taken to Japan. Maybe that’s where Wally is by now. We haven’t heard anything from him for a long time.”
“But maybe he’s still in the Philippines, and he’ll be set free.”
“It’s possible. And sure, that would be wonderful. I just worry about all the things that could go wrong.” Bobbi glanced across the page to an article about the progress of the war in Italy. “Do you know where Daniel is now, Ishi?”
“Not exactly. Somewhere around Bologna, I think. But there’s something I haven’t told you. I hardly want to think about it.”
“What?”
Ishi wiped her eyes and leaned forward, her knees together, her elbows on her knees. “I got a letter from Daniel this week. On Thursday. He said he had been wounded.”
“Wounded? How bad is it?”
“I don’t know. He told me almost nothing. He said, ‘I received a slight wound, but I’m fine now, and I’m returning to my unit.’ Those are his exact words. I’ve read them over and over. But Bobbi, it hurts my heart so much to think about it.”
“The wound couldn’t be serious, Ishi.”
“But a bullet or shrapnel–or something–went into his body, shed his blood, maybe hurt him worse than he’s saying. And he tells me nothing–except that he’s going back for more. Maybe another inch to the left or right and he would have been dead. Maybe the next bullet will take him. I can hardly stand all this waiting and wondering.”
“Ishi, if something happens to Richard, I don’t even know how I’ll find out.”
“Have you had any letters?”
“Not for over a week. And those were a month old.”
“He’s probably fine, Bobbi.”
“Hazel told me not to worry. To accept what God has in store for me. But I can’t seem to do that, Ishi. Can you?”
“I’ll accept what happens, if it happens. I won’t have any choice. But I know I’m going to worry every second until Daniel comes home.”
“I’ve tried not to worry,” Bobbi said. “I listened to what Hazel said, and I thought it was right. If I had more faith, I could do it. But I wake up worrying in the night. I get out of bed worrying in the morning. No matter how busy I am all day, it’s always there. I should avoid the papers and the radio and just not think about it. But I can’t seem to do that. Now Alex is in the fighting again. I don’t understand what’s happening in Holland, but it doesn’t sound good. I think about Anna, in London, all the time. I worry about her, about Alex, about everything.”
“It’s the same in Italy. There’s been snow in the mountains. I read that, and I wonder how Daniel can live in snow, up in the mountains. He’s not used to anything like that.”
“Oh, Ishi. It’s all so awful. When I was younger, I guess I got the idea that if I was good, and prayed, and tried to be faithful, I wouldn’t have to go through anything really terrible. But now, since Gene died, it’s like my blinders have been taken off–and I feel like I’m fair game for anything. It makes me angry sometimes; it doesn’t seem fair, and it makes me mad.”
“Who are you mad at?”
“I don’t know. No one. It just doesn’t seem like life ought to be like that.”
“So you think God got his plan a little fouled up?”
Bobbi tried to smile, and she didn’t answer, didn’t want to say that. But the truth was, what she felt ran much deeper than that. She had worked so hard to accept Gene’s death, but it made her furious to think God could stay out of this now. He could bring Richard back to her, safe and sound, if he just chose to.
The two took a long look at each other. Bobbi held on, not wanting to let her emotions get away from her; she knew Ishi was doing the same. It was a relief when David came to the door. “Come and see our castle,” he said.
“All right,” Bobbi told him, and she got up. “Let’s go look,” she told Ishi. And so the two walked outside.
Lily and David had used their small pails to stack one mound of sand upon another and create a rather extensive structure that looked very little like any castle Bobbi had ever seen. But she told the kids, “Wow. What a beautiful castle! And you two must be the king and queen.”
Lily grinned. “No. I’m the queen. David’s a knight. He likes to ride on a horse.”
David nodded. And then he galloped away, holding his hands in front of him, as though hanging onto a horse’s reins. Bobbi laughed, but what she remembered were her little brothers, Wally and Gene. She had seen them gallop that same way. So many little boys had been knights or cowboys, and now they were being soldiers, all over the world. The thought of it struck Bobbi hard, and without expecting it, she began to cry.
She turned toward Ishi, who seemed to be thinking something similar. Tears were also on
her cheeks. Bobbi nodded, and they seemed to understand each other. “Sisters,” Bobbi whispered.
After church that evening, Afton invited Bobbi to go for a walk with her and Sam, but Bobbi didn’t really believe Afton wanted her along, so she made excuses and then went for her own walk before she caught the bus back to the base. Ishi had warned her not to walk alone. Honolulu had changed since Bobbi had first arrived. So many civilian workers were there now, many of whom seemed to be single men on the loose. Crime in Hawaii had increased tremendously. Ishi felt that a woman by herself was not really safe, especially after dark.
Bobbi supposed that might be true, but she didn’t feel it when she walked the streets. Sometimes she heard catcalls, but no one had ever bothered her beyond that. There was always something so gentle about Hawaiian evenings that made her feel secure. Still, she didn’t walk long, or approach the busy parts of town, where men often loitered on Sunday evenings. She caught the bus back to Pearl Harbor, even though she dreaded the long evening alone in her little cubicle of a room.
She spent some time reading that night, but her mind kept wandering to all the things she and Ishi had talked about–her brothers and Richard and Daniel. She lay back on her bed, her book open across her chest, and she wondered, as she often did, what each of them was doing at the moment. She calculated the times in the parts of the world where they were, but it was hard to picture any circumstances that were comfortable or safe. Richard probably had the best chance of being in a port somewhere, or out on the ocean away from the battle, but her heart told her that wasn’t the case.
When the door suddenly opened, Bobbi jerked, and then realized she had fallen asleep. She sat up and looked at Afton and then at her watch. “Hey, kid, it’s really late,” she said.
“I know. And I have to be up early in the morning.”
The lights were still on, and Bobbi could see how flushed Afton was. “I think you two are doing a little too much kissing,” Bobbi said. “You’re glowing just a little too bright for this time of night.”
“Oh, Bobbi.” Afton sat down on her bed, across from Bobbi. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“You’re crazy in love, if you ask me.”
Afton looked at the floor. “When I was walking up the stairs just now, I got thinking about something I did when I was a teenager,” she said. “I opened a box of chocolates when my parents weren’t home. I thought I would take one and stop, but I ended up eating about half the box. I knew I was getting myself into huge trouble, but I just kept eating those stupid things–one at a time. Now I feel like I’m doing the same thing all over again. Why don’t I have the brains to stop?”
“I think you’re swallowing the whole box this time.”
“Shut up.” Afton blushed–brighter than before.
“Hey, I’m just telling you the truth.”
“You don’t have to tell me, Bobbi. I know.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Afton dropped backward onto her bed and put her arm across her eyes. “He asked me to marry him,” she said.
“Really? What did you tell him?”
“Oh, golly, I don’t know. I told him I couldn’t, but then he asked me to think about it, so I said I would.”
“And then you kissed some more.”
“Too much.”
“How much?”
Afton popped up. “Bobbi, we’re not being bad. Sam never gets out of line that way. He’s so sweet, and he treats me like I’m a princess.”
“Let me ask you this.” Bobbi said. “What if you didn’t have to deal with your parents or anyone else? What if this were just a decision between you and Sam? What would you do?”
“Gosh, I’d go find him right now. I’d drive to Laie, wake up the temple president, and say, ‘Could you marry us? I don’t want to wait until morning.’”
“Afton, we’re not talking about how much you like to kiss him. We’re talking about life together.”
“I know. That’s what I’m talking about too. I want to be with him forever. At first I thought we were too different. But we’re not. He’s smarter and stronger and more faithful than I am. That’s the only difference between us.”
Afton lay back on the bed again, and Bobbi leaned closer and patted her arm. “I’m sorry; I know how hard this is.”
“Maybe we could live here. I love Sam’s family, and they accept me. Here in the islands, people don’t seem to mind who marries who.”
“That’s not entirely true, Afton. The mainlanders–even the ones in the church–might not make you feel all that comfortable at times.”
“I could live with that.”
“So, is that what you’re thinking of doing?”
“Bobbi, to me Hawaii is a foreign country. I love it here, but I want to go home someday. If I marry Sam, I could never do that. Maybe my parents would make the best of things once I went ahead and got married, but I don’t think they could ever really accept the idea.”
Bobbi understood. She thought of her last trip home, when she had felt so close to her family. It was as though, when she walked into her house, she had suddenly remembered who she was. Bobbi would never want to give that up.
“People are changing,” Afton said. “I keep thinking that the war will bring people together and race won’t matter so much.” She stared at the ceiling for a time, and then she added, “But my dad told me not even to date Hawaiians. Sam and I would have beautiful children–I just know it–but I don’t think my dad could accept them.”
“Maybe not. I don’t know. But don’t you think, once your father got to know Sam, he would change his mind?”
“That’s what I tell myself sometimes. But Arizona and Hawaii are about a million miles from each other. I know how you and I felt when we first came over here.”
“That’s the point. We’ve changed.”
“Sure. But we’ve been here.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve got to stop kissing him. I’ve got to tell him we can’t go out anymore. I just have to.”
Chapter 10
Heinrich Stoltz sat in a car that was parked on a quiet road. It was almost 4:00 in the morning, and the air was cold. The driver, an American, had leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. He seemed a little too well groomed, too educated, for this line of work, but then Brother Stoltz had often seen the same thing in the OSS office in London. A lot of the agents were wealthy Americans from the best families. The man was breathing steadily now, as though asleep, so he surprised Brother Stoltz when he said, “I guess you’ve been through the whole routine.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know your story? You’ve practiced it with agents?”
“A hundred times, I think.”
“Let me give you a piece of advice. You can never be completely prepared. There’s always something someone will ask that you never thought would come up. That’s why being confident is more important than saying the right thing. You have to halfway believe you’re really the guy you’re claiming to be.”
“You have gone undercover yourself then?”
“No. But I’ve debriefed a good many men who have, and that’s what they always say.” The man chuckled. “Of course, I talk to the ones who pull it off. The ones who make a mess of things don’t come back.”
Brother Stoltz didn’t find that nearly as funny as the agent did. The man worked out of the American consulate in Bern. He was OSS, no doubt, but he had never said so, and he certainly didn’t admit to such a thing to anyone else in Switzerland. He hadn’t even told Brother Stoltz his name.
“It’s almost time, isn’t it?” Brother Stoltz asked.
“Yes. But the guard hasn’t signaled yet.”
A Swiss guard had been bribed to let Brother Stoltz cross the border, but the guard worked with a partner. At four the partner was supposed to walk a route along the border to the next station. It was a security check, mostly
to guard against Germans escaping into Switzerland. It was rare for anyone to cross in the other direction. The Swiss weren’t all that concerned about German citizens fleeing to their country, but they protected their neutrality by cooperating with Germany.
The plan was that as soon as the partner walked away from the station, the guard who had taken the bribe would pull the lantern in the guard station down from its usual perch and set it lower, on a table. Brother Stoltz and the agent had approached without headlights and had stayed well away on a little road that led from Stein, a small Swiss village. They could see the light from the station but little else.
Now it was five minutes after four, and the light hadn’t moved. Brother Stoltz was worried that something had gone wrong. He had to get across before daybreak, but then he had to stay out of sight until it was a normal time for people to be moving about. Timing was terribly important.
Then the light moved. “Okay, there you go. Good luck,” the American said.
“Thank you.” The two shook hands, and Brother Stoltz got out of the car. He took his little suitcase and walked quickly down the dirt road that led to the guard station. The guard had already stepped outside. “Good morning,” Brother Stoltz said.
“Are you Alfred Heitz?”
“Ja. Sicher.”
“Go quickly. As soon as you are out of the light, make your way into the woods. The German guard station is not far down the hill.”
Brother Stoltz knew all of that. He had to get into the woods and avoid the other station. That was not so difficult. The problem was, the Germans had set up listening posts about every hundred meters between their stations. If he moved quietly, he would not be heard, but patrols occasionally walked the border, just as they had along the border of France where Brother Stoltz had crossed the previous spring–when Peter had had to stop and go back.
