Red Sky Over Hawaii

by Sara Ackerman

  “Auwe, give him time. And don’t be stupid. Lying to protect the girls is one thing, but hiding a wanted man is something else. These kids need you here.”

  Lana leaned into him. “The main thing is that you’re feeling better and that you stay that way. I hesitate to use the M word, but it does feel like one.”

  “The M word?”

  “Miracle.”

  He nodded. “Nothing wrong with miracles. They are merely highly concentrated belief.”

  “Now you’re sounding a bit like Coco.”

  Lana thought of the force of her emotions toward Grant. How she believed in her heart that there was only one outcome—to be with him. So where was he now?

  “We are all born with this ability, but most of us lose it. Few go through life believing in miracles.”

  “My father spent his life chasing miracles. Did he not believe enough?”

  “He did better than most. But there’s a fine line between want and need, and hope and trust. If we trust, we are given what we need, because we know that all things are possible.”

  “Does that mean the Wagners will get out soon if Coco believes they will?” Lana asked.

  “It means that Coco will receive what she needs. But here’s the catch—all life is interconnected, so you have to factor in what’s good for the whole. What you want may not be what the world needs at any given moment, and if that’s the case, your want may not happen. Better to step aside and allow.”

  “Is that Shinto?” Lana asked.

  He tapped his head. “No, it’s Mochi.”

  “But look at us all right now—we’re a pretty sad lot,” she argued.

  He smiled, showing all his teeth. “Depends on how you look at it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can choose to either see everything as a miracle or nothing as a miracle. Maybe her parents will be released tomorrow, or maybe she stays with you for a while longer, here with the horses and the bees. Either way, you two have something to teach each other.”

  A feeling of knowing rose up through her, like a column of smoke. She resolved to do her best no matter what life threw at them. The rain had let up for the moment, and the kids’ voices could no longer be heard. Voices that had grown around her heart like vines.

  “You know what I worry about?” Lana said.

  “What?”

  “How my heart will break yet again when I have to give these girls up. I know it sounds selfish, but it’s true.”

  He tapped her forehead. “Sounds to me like you need to get out of your head. Go outside...breathe some fresh air into those lungs.”

  Remarkably, he smelled faintly of ocean. “Oh, Mochi. I’m going to miss you, too. Can’t you go after Christmas?”

  “I have to go, Lana-san.”

  She turned and looked into his ink-black eyes, her own eyes flickering with tears. “Well, I’ll put in a good word for you, if anyone will listen,” she said.

  “Will you keep Benji?”

  “You know I will. Have you told him?”

  “Tonight.”

  * * *

  Lana circled around back, past the garden beds which were now mud bogs and would probably need to be replanted, beyond the honey hives and to the driveway. Her best guess was that the children had gone to visit the horses. Grant had left them some liniment in hopes that Coco would be able to get close enough to apply some.

  For the first time since the camp visit, she was alone, which probably wasn’t a good thing. Grant’s parting words began to haunt her. Stabbing, sawing, cutting at her heartstrings. Nothing loses my interest quicker than someone lying to me. The cold coming off him had been palpable. She sensed a wound there. The sooner she could explain herself, the better. But what if he didn’t seek her out?

  The toe of her boot caught between two rocks and she nearly toppled forward. Wake up! the ground seemed to be saying. It was strange; she looked around and almost wasn’t sure where she was. Almost at the barn, for the first time she noticed that no birds were singing. Was it too wet and dismal for birds, even? As she moved along the saturated earth, she worked out ways to approach Grant. How much time should she give him before marching into camp and demanding he listen. One day? One week? One lifetime?

  Love finds a way. The words landed neatly in her brain as though dropped from the tree branch above. She went right back to her conversation with Mochi. If Grant was her man, things would fall into place. If not, they were never meant to be. Not that she would forget him anytime in the next decade, but one couldn’t force feelings.

  The kids were nowhere to be found, and the horses were gathered under one tree. Lana filled their water and sat on the fence post watching them. They were experts at relaxation; she had to give them that. Standing around lazily, coats soaked. Two of them decided to show off and rolled around in the mud.

  “You silly animals!” she called.

  Without Grant, how would she train them? Damn him.

  * * *

  Late that afternoon, as a remedy for the blues, Lana dove headfirst into preparing Mochi’s last meal with them and making it special. She enlisted Coco and Marie to help, giving Mochi space to speak to Benji alone. Dinner would be garlic shoyu chicken, rice and chopped spinach—which Coco would bury under her napkin—and banana cream pie with flaky coconut topping.

  An idea came to her. “How about this. Let’s try to think about all the things we are grateful for.”

  Marie moaned. “Surely you’re kidding.”

  Coco stared out the window, munching on a cracker. A mound of bananas sat in front of her. The note from her mother was set on the table under her glass, as if it might blow away.

  Lana placed her hands on her hips. “I am two-hundred-percent serious. Times might be tough right now, but our only way through this is to remember what’s good in the world.”

  “You go first, then,” Marie said.

  Sweet as she may be, she was still a teenager, with a touch of sass now and then. Lana let it slide. “I am grateful for this roof over our heads, that we have enough to eat and that we finished the fence for the horses,” Lana said. “Do you want me to go on, because I could, or does one of you want to give it a shot?”

  Coco came back from wherever she had been. “I am happy we get pie tonight.”

  “Can’t you think of something better than that?” Marie said.

  Coco stuck out her tongue.

  Lana went to her defense. “Actually that’s perfect, Coco. Small things are just as good as big things, and often overlooked. Anything else?”

  “That you came back from camp,” Coco added.

  Lana offered up her own silent prayer of gratitude for that. They went back and forth for a while. Talking about all the simple and beautiful reasons to be thankful. Horses in the pasture, Mochi feeling stronger, Sailor, the secret room, no invasion as of yet, the forest full of birdsong, and, of course, Grant.

  “When is Major Bailey coming back?” Coco asked.

  Lana did not want to think about Major Bailey, let alone discuss him. “Sounds like they’re keeping him busy at work, so I have no idea.”

  “Did you see him today?” Marie asked.

  “Briefly.”

  Coco started mashing the bananas as if her life depended on it. “If we write a letter to Mama and Papa, would he give it to them?”

  “I’ll bet he would. You can each write one after dinner.”

  They worked in silence for a while, until Benji and Mochi came in. From the red around Benji’s eyes, it was clear Mochi had told him he was leaving. Lana admired the way he maintained calm under such weighty burdens.

  Lana realized an hour or so too late that there was no way around the sadness. They would just have to plow through it. The evening turned into a sorrowful, weepy affair. Every time Lana opened her mouth to say something
, a sob escaped instead. Even the men were crying. Sailor watched from her spot in the middle of the floor, an alarmed look on her face. And the strange thing was—all that grieving in one place, it felt good for the soul.

  * * *

  In the morning Lana dragged her heels. No one wanted to admit that Mochi would no longer be sitting in front of the fireplace drinking tea with the radio turned up a notch too loud. Benji, who was usually a good sport, sat on the front porch, whipping pebbles at the Norfolk pine.

  “If you hit the geese, I’ll punch you,” Coco warned him.

  Mochi chuckled. “I like your spirit, little one. Can I get a hug before I go?”

  For a moment Coco stood immobile. Hugging strangers and old people was akin to kissing boys. Distasteful and scary. But a second later she dove at him and burrowed in. Mochi shut his eyes. The sheer amount of anguish on his face split Lana’s heart down its seams, and if she hadn’t already shed every tear her body could produce, she would have been a bawling mess.

  He hugged Marie next, then Lana. “Your father would be so proud of you,” he whispered into her hair. “Bringing us all up here and turning an escape house into a home. I promise I will be back.”

  Those words meant everything to her.

  “I know you will,” Lana said.

  The whole gang insisted on riding in the truck to the main road. The skies were still blanketed with clouds, but the rain had ceased. With not enough room in the cab, Coco and Marie rode in the back with Sailor. Coco wanted to bring the geese, too, but Lana nixed that. Sailor, who especially enjoyed sitting under Mochi’s chair at mealtime, began howling as soon as they drove off.

  “I never thought I would say this, but I sure am going to miss that creature,” Mochi said with a smile.

  In the rearview mirror, Lana saw Coco leaning on Sailor, howling in unison. They bounced along the driveway, and when they reached the main road, Lana pulled off to the side. They all climbed out. Mochi had a small knapsack, to which she had added three tangerines and a jar of red honey.

  “Make sure to eat your honey, and I’ll find a way to get more to you,” she said.

  Benji stood off to the side, arms slack. He stared down at his feet. Mochi gave him a bear hug and ruffled his hair. “You’re the man of the place now. These ladies are all counting on you. Think you can handle it?”

  Benji raised his eyes, looking at Lana and the girls as they all waited expectantly for an answer. Sailor was off sniffing for pigs.

  He suddenly went straight as a fence post. “I’ll do my best.”

  Before anyone could say another word, Mochi turned and began the slow march to camp. He’d worn a suit of Jack’s they’d found hanging in the closet. Lana had hemmed the pant legs, but they still dragged on the ground. Despite the suit hanging off him, Mochi gave it all an air of great dignity. Lana knew the stranglehold of this moment would follow her through her entire life.

  CHRISTMAS

  Cold collected between the blanket and Lana’s shivering body. In the night, the winds must have shifted north again, dropping the temperature by at least twenty degrees below comfortable. Once this war was over, she resolved to buy enough warm clothes for an army. Just to have on hand. She thought of poor Mochi in the barracks.

  Yesterday had been one of the saddest days on record. No one had felt much like talking, and they moped around the house as though someone had died. Coco decided to climb to the top of the Norfolk pine outside and refused to come down. It took Benji climbing up and bargaining to bring her down.

  “What did you tell her?” Lana wanted to know.

  “That the minute they allow visitors, we can go see Mochi and her parents together.”

  Lana touched her eyelids. Swollen and tender. Not only did she miss Mochi, but all day long yesterday, she had been half expecting Grant to come riding down the driveway on Boss. Double the loss, quadruple the pain. Eventually day fell into night, and he never came. Sleep had been elusive and was filled with dreams of soldiers and prisoners and being trapped in the secret room.

  Now she layered on sweaters and her father’s jacket and tiptoed out the front door, careful not to wake anyone. A deep raspberry sky greeted her, casting just enough light so she could see large shapes and objects. She walked as fast as she dared. The morning quiet was a balm of solace. No birds, no breeze, just the peace of a sleeping volcano.

  As Lana walked along, her chest felt like a pressure cooker. Chances were slim to none that Grant had left another note for her, but she had to see for herself. The alternative meant worrying every twenty seconds about whether or not one was there. She needed to get him out of her system and carry on. Today was Christmas Eve. The kids deserved her full attention.

  First sunlight hit the summit of Mauna Loa. Lana stopped and watched as golden light melted down the mountain. One thing was for sure—no one could ever deny the sheer magnificence of that mountain. She pulled her jacket tight and continued on.

  By the time she reached the Sugi grove, she could scarcely breathe. Nerves had taken ahold of her lungs and pressed in from all sides. One second she was sure there would be a note, the next second sure there wouldn’t. A pale light filtered through the towering trees. Enough light to see. The branch was empty.

  Maybe this whole thing with Grant had been more one-sided than she’d thought, nothing more than a passing fancy, making her easy to walk away from. Men are unpredictable. A universal truth she could vouch for. But she would have sworn he was different.

  With every step back to the house, she resolved to flip this day on its side. At least now she wouldn’t have the added burden of explaining to Grant why Benji now lived with them. She was armed with a story but didn’t want to have to use it. They were all waiting for her on the porch, the whole motley crew, geese included.

  Coco stood at the top of the steps with her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?” she said.

  “Out for an early Christmas walk. I picked berries, too. Anyone feel like pancakes?” Lana said.

  “Me!” was the unanimous answer. That was the beauty of young people, she was coming to see. Their little hearts were so ready to see the goodness in the world all over again. They had resilience bottled up in reserve. If only she could be more like them.

  They followed her into the kitchen, and Marie turned on the radio, a notch too loud. They found a station playing Christmas songs, and before long, there were feet tapping and voices singing in and out of tune. Benji didn’t say much at breakfast, but he offered to show the girls how to fold origami animals for the tree. Lana had a few pieces of wrapping paper left over from Kano Store and offered it for the taking.

  Lana sat on the porch while they worked, thinking back on Christmas Eve last year. All of downtown Honolulu had been lit in a spectacular fashion, and she and Buck were at a gala at Washington Place—the governor’s home. Anyone with an important last name was there. Lana had attempted to feel festive, but inside she was hollow as a shoot of bamboo. Christmas had been hard lately, with no children to open gifts under the tree and no one to hang stockings for.

  While all the other women her age were busy being mothers, Lana was busy falling into despair. And no one understood. Some felt sorry for her; others were clueless and kept inquiring when she and Buck would have kids or, even worse, told her she would make a great mother—she really should try it someday. She hated those questions.

  Lana and Buck were good at pretending, but signs of decay had begun to show. A complete lack of affection, blazing tempers and the inability to feel. There is a tipping point for all things, beyond which change becomes unstoppable. One of her father’s scientific phrases, which aptly applied to marriage, as well.

  Now she had a house full of children. The sound of their chatter carried out the window, mixing with the hum of the bees. She peered in and saw them hanging misshapen origami creatures on the tree. The ornaments might have be
en horses or dogs or geese; she couldn’t be sure. Either way, they added charm and sparkle to a dreary day. The world, it seemed, had a funny way of giving you what you wanted when you least expected it.

  After lunch and present wrapping in the secret room—Lana forbade any of them from going down there—they fed and watered the horses and collected decorations for the dinner table. Marie showed them how to make a wreath out of juniper and Norfolk, and they adorned it with ‘ohi‘a lehua blossoms and a‘ali‘i, which offered the perfect splash of red.

  They cut up paper and made cards for their parents and Mochi. Coco also wanted to make a card for Grant, on which she drew purple horses galloping over streams of molten lava. A jagged line cut across her sky.

  “What’s that?” Lana asked.

  “The sky crack.”

  “I haven’t noticed it yet. Is it still up there?”

  “Yeah, but the rain clouds covered it.” Coco looked up at her, face pinched in thought. “Hey, I just thought of something. Maybe it’s how Santa Claus gets around!”

  “It could very well be. Brilliant idea,” Lana said.

  In the spirit of giving, she made her own card for Grant. It took her all of three seconds to know exactly what she wanted to draw. A white-tailed tropic bird hovering over the crater rim. The picture came easily, but when it came to writing a message, her thoughts ran dry. She started and stopped no less than twenty-two times.

  Dear Grant,

  Wishing you a Merry Christmas, or, as we say in Hawaii, Mele Kalikimaka. You have been such a blessing during these trying times. I am sorry for keeping Coco and Marie’s identity from you. Everything happened so fast and I didn’t know who to trust. I was simply doing my best to keep them safe. Believe it or not, I had made up my mind to tell you the very same day the Feds came. Please, give me a chance to explain in person.

  Missing you on this chilly Christmas Eve,

  Lana