Part 16 (1/2)

”What?” George tried to shake the heaviness from his head.

”Your buddies got you out.” The door creaked as it opened.

”What buddies?” George attempted to sit up. His head spun and he fell back against the rough blanket on the cot.

The SP shrugged. ”Some guys in your crew.”

George pressed his hands to the side of his head. ”Why am I here?”

”Boy, you must have been really drunk if you don't know.” The SP held out his hand and ticked off his offenses one finger at a time. ”Disorderly conduct, a.s.sault and battery.”

George managed this time to sit up. ”Who did I supposedly beat up?”

”Way I hear it, an MP. Apparently, there were a lot of witnesses.”

”And you guys believed them?”

”No one else saw different.” The SP raised his eyebrows. ”No one, that is, except your buddy. But it was him against all of them.”

”That's a lie. It's because I'm Oriental.”

The SP s.h.i.+fted his feet. ”Well, you can thank you s.h.i.+pmates. Your buddy from Hawaii told your s.h.i.+pmates what happened, and they pressured the captain to help you. The charges have been dropped. Now are you gonna sit there all day or are you coming?”

George stood. He hated those lying haoles who accepted his blood but not his company in a war that had nothing to do with him. He discounted the gesture of his haole s.h.i.+pmates who got him out. It was guilt money. He didn't owe them anything.

Chapter Twenty-two.

Honolulu: January, 1945 Sitting on the warm sand, Sean watched the waves break on the reef before rolling gently down to lap the sandy sh.o.r.e. The sun felt good on his bare skin. He could almost forget the pain in his leg and the ugly, raised scars across his body. The doctors said he'd always walk with a slight limp.

It was a small price to pay to return home alive.

When he returned to the islands he bought a modest white clapboard cottage on Kahala beach. After settling in, he returned to the little gift shop to find Mary. He'd thought about her often during his convalescence in the hospital. Wondered why she never wrote back. During his half-asleep moments, he envisioned every gesture, every curve, the velvet softness of her skin, and her dark eyes infused with desire. Her fierce pa.s.sion had surprised and aroused him. He wanted to see her again, but she was no longer at the shop and now he couldn't find her.

Every morning, and sometimes in the afternoon, he swam in the ocean. The water healed and comforted him. It was ironic that he'd become a hero after he gave up his personal ambitions. Three months after he moved into his beach cottage, he found his spontaneous act of courage not only brought him a medal, it brought him what he wanted most in life.

It happened soon after he moved in. He was sitting on the beach just before sunset watching the surfers beyond the reef when Meg's voice, soft as the morning drizzle, broke the silence. ”I was drunk the last time I saw you. Please forgive me.”

He looked up. Meg stood next to him, a faint blush on her porcelain skin. He rose on his elbows as she kneeled on the sand facing him. Her fingers touched his lips. ”Don't say anything. I know I was quite dreadful.”

”Meg.” Not wanting to break the spell, he didn't move.

She smiled and brushed blond tendrils from his forehead. Her touch electrified him. Taking her frail hand in his, he pressed it to his lips.

”I'd love to see your home,” she said.

They rose together; she slipped her hand into his.

His wounded leg faltered in the sand.

Her eyes went to his leg. ”You're wounded.”

”That's why I'm home.”

That evening they lay together under the cool sheets, listening to the faint roar of the ocean and the insistent crickets. Sean stroked the curve of her waist and hip. Goose pimples rose on her satiny skin. He buried his lips in her soft, blond hair. ”You're incredible.”

Tears shone in her eyes. ”It's wonderful to feel alive again.”

”I've always loved you.”

Sean felt Meg's body stiffen. Then she relaxed, her fingers tracing the bridge of his nose and eyebrows. ”Don't talk about love. There's only today, nothing else.”

”I want all of your tomorrows. If I could have yesterday, I would take them too.”

Meg stroked his cheek. ”We have today. And today is all we need.”

Sean wrapped his arms around her tightly, not wanting the moment to ever end.

Mary pushed Jackie in a stroller on the sidewalk along Hotel Street in downtown Honolulu. She was trying to fit in as many errands as she could in two hours. It seemed like her life was always busy these days.

A newspaper boy shoved a paper in front of her. ”Want to see how the war is doing?'

On the front page, Sean's face smiled back at her. She decided to spend the five cents she couldn't afford to buy the newspaper. She read it as she walked back to her apartment.

After two years, Sean was back in Honolulu, it said. Holding the paper tight against her breast, she blinked back tears. She wanted to find him and tell him he had a daughter. Would he take responsibility? Should she demand help? Mary knelt in front of Jackie and held his picture next to her. Jackie smiled his smile and grabbed her finger. Mary kissed her cheek. She couldn't do it. She was alone when she gave birth and would raise her daughter alone. Sean would never know he had a hapa haole daughter. Besides, she doubted it would matter to him. The time they'd had was, to him, just a soldier's last night.

Sighing, she cut his picture out of the paper and put it away.

Chapter Twenty-three.

The wh.o.r.ehouse on Hotel Street was packed. Downstairs, Joe's bar was doing brisk business due to a new s.h.i.+p was in town. In the bas.e.m.e.nt Mary held her baby close to her breast, rocking her gently to sleep. Although she couldn't seem to get used to the noise it surely didn't bother Jackie who always slept through the racket. Mary placed her daughter down on the bed they shared and tucked the blanket around her.

Picking up a basket full of soiled laundry, Mary walked up the short flight of stairs to the laundry. The work wasn't so bad. The prost.i.tutes were kind and gave her baby gifts. Some of them chipped in for the new stroller that crowded her dark room. Where else could she live with a decent salary and still keep her baby with her at all times? Besides, anyone of j.a.panese descent was barred from all the good government and utility company jobs for ”security reasons.” At least here no one looked down their noses at her.

Still, she was ashamed.

As she scrubbed clothes on the laundry board, then hung it to dry, the noise from the second floor suddenly became unusually loud. She looked up at the stairway above her. It sounded like fighting. Whistles blew. Two half-dressed men tumbled down the stairs, jumped up and ran. She paid no attention, continued to collect the dry laundry before looking around. Seeing no one, she started back down the stairs. Just then, a wild-eyed youth bolted down the stairs and looked around the alley. Seeing her, he yelped, ”I know you!”

Mary stared at him for a second before it clicked. ”You're a Han, aren't you?”

”Yes.” His eyes darted around. ”Mark Han.”

”Come down here,” she said with a motion. ”You'll be okay.”