Red Sky Over Hawaii Page 29

  “It took us by surprise.”

  “I’ll say, and it’s a perfect bull’s-eye for the Japanese.”

  A mountain that tall lit up with fire would stand out like a beacon. “Do they know exactly where the flow is located?” Lana asked.

  “The crater at the top. It has a name that I will never be able to pronounce. Not if I lived here a hundred years.”

  “Moku‘āweoweo,” Lana said.

  “Yeah, that.”

  Lana felt deflated. She couldn’t care less about the eruption right now. “Is this why you came, Major Bailey? To talk about the volcano eruption?”

  She was acutely aware of his nearness and his warmth. Of his particular cinnamon scent filling the darkness around them. He stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the light.

  “Look—”

  “Just—” she said.

  They both talked over each other in that way that they did, but in the end, Grant won out. “No. It’s not.”

  “So what can I do for you?” she said, standing her ground.

  He shivered. “I was a real jackass the other day, and I pray to God I didn’t screw things up beyond repair. Seeing you there caught me off guard, and I just reacted. I was blindsided. And all you were doing was trying to protect the girls. I know that. I wanted to come earlier, but it’s been mayhem all afternoon and the last two days they had us out patrolling on the cliff all day.”

  She wanted to be tough and show him she had been perfectly fine without him. “Maybe now is not a good time for us. You have your hands full with the war, and I have mine full with the girls and Benji. I know you promised my father, but he would understand,” she said.

  Her feelings were still bruised. The humiliation of staying in the room all night, alone. Days of waiting and wondering and dying inside.

  “Not a good time, huh?”

  She was glad it was dark. “Yes. You and I starting something now would be inconvenient.”

  He let out a dull laugh. “I’ll take fate over convenience any day. That first day at Kano Store when I saw you standing there, I didn’t know what hit me. I tried to keep my cool, but I was already a goner. I swear I could feel you before I even saw you.”

  She thought back to how he helped her out of the bushes after the bicycle crash. The way their hands stuck together, and how his had turned red afterward. Alchemy and chemistry and desire were making him hard to resist.

  Grant continued. “I once swore I would never tolerate even one lie. But I can see that lying is not part of your nature. You did it because you had to.”

  “I hated lying to you.”

  He grabbed her hands. “You have every right to tell me to drive away and never come back, but please, Lana, give me another chance.”

  He spoke the words with such tenderness that she felt a catch in her throat. Her resolve melted. “Seeing that it’s Christmas, do I have any choice?”

  His smile shone in the moonlight. “Are you toying with me?”

  She tried to suppress a laugh. Not forgiving him would be impossible.

  “Is that a yes?” he said.

  “I think it is.”

  “You think? Well, let me persuade you.”

  He swept her into his arms, pressed his face into her hair. His heartbeat was louder than crickets and more wonderful than the glow on the mountain. Lana closed her eyes and let herself soak in all his beautiful warmth and soapy scent. She held his hand, lacing her fingers in his, and pulled him up the stairs and down the hallway.

  In the room she kissed him. There was no hurry this time, and his tongue moved softly and surely. He held her tight, as though afraid to let go. Weeks of near misses had her wanting him more than she thought possible.

  “I brought you a Christmas present,” he whispered.

  “Can I open it tomorrow? I won’t be able to see it in the dark,” she said, though she could see him just fine. He made his own light.

  “I couldn’t find any wrapping paper, so I’ll just give it to you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Was he serious? “Of course I don’t mind, silly.”

  He pulled something from his back pocket and hung it over her neck. It was heavy. Lana reached up and fingered the cool glass at the end of two cylinders. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “It’s not a clunky necklace, I can assure you that.”

  She laughed. “What a perfect gift. Now I can take you and the girls out and show you the birds close up. Thank you.”

  Handsome and thoughtful and painfully sexy. She moved the binoculars so they hung against her back and reached for him again. His hands found her waist, stayed there for a moment, then moved down over the curve of her rear, leaving a line of heat in their wake. Lana was conscious of the mattress just behind her feet.

  He spoke softly in her ear. “Nothing would have kept me away tonight. Not the Japanese, not Santa Claus and, hell, not even a volcano.”

  How had she ever doubted this? A tear ran down her cheek and she wondered what it was that drew two people together from far ends of the world. An unexplained phenomena if there ever were one. And in that moment her world locked into place.

  THE AFTERWARD

  A year and a half later, June 21, 1943

  The loud buzz of the telephone rang through the whole house, waking Lana with a start. It was still dark outside. She bolted upright and sat for a moment rubbing her eyes and making sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  Grant wrapped an arm around her waist and tried to pull her back into the tangle of warm skin and quilt. “Don’t get it.”

  Tempting.

  “I have to get it. Who calls at six o’clock in the morning unless it’s important?” she said, taking off down the hallway at a full sprint.

  In the past months with Auntie, Lana had been learning to still her thoughts and listen from the inside out. Lana had been practicing daily, learning to trust herself, and by the time she reached the telephone, she already knew who was calling.

  * * *

  Life is a stream of days. When you look back, most of those days blend into one another like water in a rushing river. Every so often, if you’re lucky—or unlucky—you have one that stands out against the rest. The difference with war is that all the days stand out.

  Living on the edge became an all-too-familiar term, and quite frankly, Lana was tired of it. The intervening year had come and gone with no more bombs and no invasions, but a constant threat looming. The victory at Midway helped matters, and people began to loosen up, but only slightly.

  At the volcano, after weeks of nail biting, the eruption of Mauna Loa had ceased, but not before someone got the brilliant idea to bomb the vents that were feeding the flow. With a mile-long fountain of lava, which then formed a swift-moving river headed toward Hilo, the military felt they had to do something. It was as though someone had flipped a switch in the night sky and turned on a light over the island, leading the Japanese right to it. Auntie and others were appalled at the army’s actions, and in the end, not all of the bombs exploded, and those that did seemed to have little effect on the eruption. Coco said that the mountain was stronger than any bomb.

  Lana and the kids lived in their close-knit world to the best of their ability, not traveling much aside from visiting Kano Store, Volcano House, and the small schoolhouse they attended with several other local students. Lana helped there on Tuesdays and Thursdays and found she had a talent for teaching science and art, which she thought had more in common than people realized. By the end of the third month, all the students knew their Hawaiian birds—iiwi, ‘apapane, amakihi, omao, ‘io, koa‘e‘kea—and could identify and sketch each one, rattle off their habitats, and imitate their calls. Lana considered it a victory.

  Before long, the Wagners and Mochi were transferred with all the prisoners from Kīlauea Military Camp to Sand Island Detention Camp on
O‘ahu, where Fred and Ingrid were separated without an explanation. Days later, Fred was shipped off to the mainland, still in the same clothes he had been picked up in. He and a handful of other Germans and Italians, and over a hundred Japanese men, rode locked in the steerage section of a transport ship to California and then were packed into a train and taken across the country to Wisconsin. Bleak and cold and miserable, the men resorted to stuffing newspapers into their clothing to keep themselves warm. Ingrid heard only rumors of where the men had been taken, and she worried herself sick. Literally. The doctor diagnosed her with hysteria and ordered bed rest, but bed rest was hard in a detention camp.

  Letters came sporadically, and the girls and Benji swung between enjoying life with Lana and fretting about their parents and Mochi. As luck would have it, several months later, again with no explanation, Fred was brought back to Sand Island and reunited with his wife. The pining was lessened by the fact that Lana soon traveled with the kids to O‘ahu for several overnight visits. Lana had managed to track down Baron, who had thankfully been off on Sunday, December 7, and arranged for him to fly them back and forth. The kids all loved him and always fought to be copilot.

  Then, in early 1943, following hearing boards in Hilo where lawyers and character witnesses did nothing to sway the council, the Wagners and Mochi were moved to Honouliuli, a hot and dusty gulch in the center of O‘ahu known as Hell Valley. On the Kona wind days, the heat grew as unbearable as the uncertainty. The camp housed separate compounds for Germans, Japanese and prisoners of war. Only family could visit, and the kids would come back with stories of Coco and Marie going to the Japanese side to say hello to Mochi, and on the way passing pup tents full of prisoners of war dressed only in loin cloths.

  “They look spooky,” Coco would say.

  Even Marie swore the place was haunted and came down with a bad case of nerves every time they went. Thank goodness for Mochi, who bought fudge from the PX when he knew Benji and the girls were coming. He told Benji that he could endure the camp and whatever they threw at him, because the alternative was worse. He felt lucky to still be alive and credited his survival to the honey from the volcano, and all that love. Benji teared up when he told Lana.

  No one had any idea how or when or if their imprisonment would end.

  Lana had made use of the time on O‘ahu by visiting with an attorney and filing for divorce. Once the war began, Buck had wasted no time moving Alexandra into the house and turning the guest room into a nursery. Lana felt nothing. With a man like Grant waiting for her back at Volcano, why would she? When Lana and the kids were away, Grant took care of the animals. Sailor went to work with him and soon became the most popular member of the camp, which, empty of prisoners, now housed the 27th Division of the National Guard as they bolstered defenses of the island from an amphibious attack. Every time Sailor was around, morale skyrocketed. So much so that Grant began bringing her in several times a week. She took her job very seriously. She also had a tendency to mysteriously gain weight during Lana’s absence, about which Grant feigned ignorance.

  Now that all the troops were in town, the whole landscape of Volcano immediately livened, with Volcano House and every available building in the area occupied by soldiers. On any given day, they could be seen patrolling and training in the lava fields. Lana and the kids found a whole new market for their honey, which they had been selling for a dollar a jar, though now they had to compete with alcohol since the ban had recently been lifted. The red honey they kept for themselves.

  Meanwhile, Japanese forces were evacuating in the Aleutians, leaving behind their last main stronghold in the Western Hemisphere. In the islands, blackout rules were eased, allowing lights on until 10:00 p.m., except for ocean-facing rooms. A horrible outbreak of dengue fever spread through Waikiki, which was now off-limits to all servicemen. All in all, the war had infused Hawaii with tens of thousands of soldiers, miles of barbed wire and a bad case of paranoia.

  On Christmas of 1942, ‘Ohelo officially became Coco’s horse. The two were connected at the withers, with Coco riding more than she walked, so it was bound to happen. ‘Ohelo still had a tendency to be shy with others, but with Coco she was a different animal. Lana swore the two could read each other’s thoughts.

  Auntie became a huge part of their lives, and everyone looked forward to the time with her. Being in her small cottage with all of its herbs and knickknacks and animals was like stepping into an enchanted forest. You never knew what you might find. It turned out that Auntie had several cats, a mongoose, a very old white dog who never got out of his bed and a revolving door of forest birds who perched in her rafters.

  They spent much of the time in the kitchen, boiling decoctions out of roots and twigs and leaves they had gathered, or baking honey-infused scones and savory breads and taro cakes. They learned the peculiarities of the volcano and its surrounding terrain. To Lana, the most astonishing part of all was that no one ever complained. Not once. It was like school, only far more compelling.

  As soon as it had been safe to drive to Hilo, Lana went and retrieved her father’s ashes and brought them back to Hale Manu. They scattered some of the ashes in the wind blowing over Kīlauea crater, where Grant had taken her on that first date. They buried the rest under the big Norfolk pine out front. The one that Coco liked to climb on moody days.

  “Now you won’t be alone when you’re up there,” Lana told her.

  Coco bent her neck and looked up the tree, smiling. Lana’s gaze followed, and for a few seconds, she swore she saw the sky shimmering in a line over their heads. The crack. So unmistakable. All this time she had been scanning the skies and looking so hard for it, even when a big part of her had doubted its very existence. Now it seemed to have been there all along.

  * * *

  Lana took a deep breath before picking up the phone. She answered with a standard hello, even though she knew who was on the other end.

  “Lana, is that you?”

  The past year and a half condensed into a blur, flashing before her eyes.

  “Good morning, Ingrid.”

  Ingrid sobbed as she spoke. “They’re releasing us if you can believe it. We’re coming home.”

  * * *

  On the Monday morning following the phone call, Lana had no idea how to feel. Suitcases were packed, faces scrubbed. Marie wore a button-up dress that matched the berry red of her lips. On more than one occasion, Grant had had to come to her rescue about town, fending off salivating soldiers. Coco had chosen an interesting combination of a dainty yellow dress with knee-high riding boots they’d bought in Hilo. Her freckles had become more pronounced with all her time outdoors.

  All day long, Lana felt herself becoming unglued. Outwardly, she fought to appear upbeat. The Wagners were being released after a year and a half of prison life. The least she could do was be happy. And she was—truly. But the happiness perched on the edge of a gaping hole that had been there for more than ten years.

  Grant promised to be at the house before three, the estimated arrival time. Coco was unusually quiet, nestling on the porch with the geese and Sailor. She had said her goodbyes to the horses earlier, riding ‘Ohelo up and down the driveway with her arms draped around her neck. Remarkably, she hadn’t cried. But in between then and now, she’d disappeared into the tree for over an hour and returned with red and swollen eyes.

  Lana began checking her watch every two minutes and, at ten to three, finally went out and sat on the top step. The kids all crowded around her. Coco tickled the back of Benji’s neck with a Norfolk pine needle, causing him to leap up and dance around, slapping himself silly. It could have been just another day.

  Coco clapped. “That’s for the time you put one in my bed.”

  After that first Christmas they’d all shared together, Grant and Lana had a heart-to-heart about Benji and how he came to be with her. Grant had sworn that nothing she could do would sway his feelings for her,
and so she told him about Mochi, and how he’d been hiding there all along. It didn’t take long for Grant to warm to Benji, and now the two were often together, working with the horses and doing odd jobs on pretty much everything else around the place.

  Grant arrived first, joining them on the steps. He kissed Lana firmly on the lips, something she would never tire of, and handed out balls of mochi to the rest of them.

  “Mrs. Iwamoto’s special,” he said.

  The minute Grant sat down, Sailor tried to finagle her way into his lap, tail slapping Lana in the face. The dog might be loyal to Coco, and Lana to a degree, but Grant was Sailor’s favorite. He rubbed her spotted belly and gave her scraps when he thought no one was looking. Lana caught him regularly.

  After those shaky first weeks and the incident at camp, Grant had been there for Lana and the kids one-hundred-percent. He was her lava rock. And he was interested in her life. Not like Buck, who’d rarely asked about her day. Grant helped them with the hives, learning all there was about beekeeping and the medicinal properties of honey. He wanted to know everything about the birds at Volcano and developed a knack for imitating their calls. He even tried his hand at drawing, which everyone agreed might be a losing proposition. His wooden carvings, on the other hand, took on a life of their own. The main thing was he jumped in and he cared. He was the kind of man to hold on to, steadfast in his love. Lana loved him with every speck of her being.

  As they waited, the sun was nearly unbearable. Coco stood up and began pacing.

  “Honey, are you all right?” Lana said.

  “I don’t see why our parents can’t just move in here and we can all live together,” Coco said.

  Lana had considered offering. Anything to keep the sense of family they had acquired over the past year and a half. They had developed such a strong foundation, and now she felt as if someone was coming to take away both of her legs and half of her heart.