“On my honor.”
“All right. I’ll work for you in Manila. When will I be leaving?”
“In a few days. Marcus will set you up.”
The sky was beginning to lighten, and Gina had breakfast to cook. She poked at the fire and added a log, feeling both excited and fearful about the future she had agreed to. “You know I’ll do my best, Davy. I hope I don’t let you down.”
While Marcus worked out the details of the trip, Gina began her preparations to leave. Foremost on her mind was telling Cheryl that she would be staying with Vivian. She waited until they were alone at the stream, a place where Gina found it easy to talk to her daughter. Today they were searching for stones flecked with gold. Upon seeing one, Gina pointed it out to Cheryl, who picked it up and put it in her pocket.
“I’ve been thinking, sweetheart, about going back to Manila.”
Cheryl clapped her hands. “Yay! Are Miss Vivian and Leah coming too?”
Gina sighed. She was off to a bad start. “No. I’m going by myself. I have important work to do for Major Davy. You’re going to stay here with Miss Vivian, Leah, and Maggie.”
Cheryl’s face scrunched into a frown. “I can help you do work for Major Davy.”
“It’s grown-up work, honey. I’ll be very busy, and Manila wouldn’t be the same for you. Your friends are gone, and the school is closed. I won’t be living in our house. You’ll be happier here with Leah and Maggie.”
“When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure. But I promise just as soon as I can be.”
Cheryl kicked at the water. “No! Daddy’s gone. You can’t go too. He won’t know where to find me if you go away.”
Gina wasn’t prepared for that argument. She didn’t know where Ray was or if they’d ever be together again. She took Cheryl’s hands in hers. “That’s not so. Daddy will always know where to find you.”
“But how can I talk to him if we can’t link pinkies?”
Gina felt her child’s pain as if it were her own. She kissed the palm of each little hand and said softly, “You can talk to Daddy anytime you want to just by whispering your love to him. He’ll hear you. Sweetheart, you’re going to stay here with Miss Vivian. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I love you. Daddy loves you. I promise we’ll all be back together, but I don’t know when. Now, let’s go back to the cabin, and you can help me pack.”
Gina carried Cheryl back to the camp, the child sobbing on her shoulder. At the cabin Cheryl struggled out of her mother’s arms. “I’m afraid to be all alone by myself,” she bawled. “I’m just a little girl.” She ran inside, and through the window Gina saw Vivian swoop her into her arms. Gina’s heart almost broke in two. She walked out to the garden and tugged hard at the weeds, her tears salting the soil. This damn war. This damn, damn war!
Chapter 10
MARCUS
I march past silent crowds through the streets of Manila to Bilibid Prison, stripped of all personal belongings, including my identity and my pride. My cold curiosity helps detach my mind from the jitters of my reality.
—Ray Thorpe, Bilibid Prison, May 1942–October 1942
With Gina having made her decision about going to Manila, Davy charged ahead with his plan. He gave her cash and a list of names and addresses of people in Manila to contact. “Keep this hidden,” he said. “Better yet, memorize it and then burn it.”
She looked over the list, recognizing a few names, mostly Filipino higher-society men and women whom Davy, Theo, and Marcus knew and trusted. “How much should I tell them?”
“Only as much as you need to. That we’re a guerrilla unit harassing the Japanese. We need money for food and guns. Don’t reveal our position or our size. That will change anyway. I’m looking for a runner who will be your contact to me.”
“How will I know him?”
“Good question.” He squinted at the horizon. “How about he will ask if you like strawberries, and you reply, ‘I prefer mangoes.’”
“You’re joking. I didn’t know you were an Agatha Christie fan, Davy.”
“Get used to the cloak-and-dagger.”
She felt a tingle of anticipation. “Can I add my own friends to the list?”
“If you trust them, yes, but be careful, Gina. Don’t reveal too much to anyone. We’re new at this, and none of us know where it’s going to lead. Our fate is in your hands.”
The smirk left Gina’s face, the weight of the responsibility becoming real. “I’ll be careful. I’ll work hard for you. I promise.”
That night Gina formed a pocket in her brassiere by picking out the stitches between the lining and the fabric. She studied the contact names to commit them to memory before inserting the list in the pocket and sewing it shut.
The trip would be a hard one, along back trails to avoid Japanese patrols. Marcus would travel with her part of the way, with Negritos guiding them through the rain forest to the bay. She’d continue alone by boat into Manila, where a man with a cart would take her to Malate Church.
When she heard the plan, Vivian muttered, “Are you crazy? The Negritos are headhunters.”
“Don’t, Viv. I’ve struggled enough with this. The guides Marcus hired are not headhunters. They’re just mountain people. Family oriented, Marcus says. They know the trails better than anyone. I trust Marcus’s judgment.” She sniffed. “I’m the one going home, so why am I the one who can’t stop weeping?”
“Guilt maybe? You inherit a ton when that first baby is born. Cheryl will be fine, Gina. I love the child as much as I love my own. Besides, with her here, I know you’ll be sending us food and supplies—and maybe a goody or two—on a regular basis.”
Vivian was probably right, though Gina wouldn’t admit to being so self-serving.
Vivian reached into her pocket. “I have something for you and Cheryl.” She handed Gina two gold chains; dangling on each was half a heart-shaped locket. “My mother had these made when I was a child and she was ill and in the hospital for a long time. She gave me one and kept the other. The hearts snap together as one. I want you to take them for you and Cheryl. Tell her whenever she is lonesome to touch the locket, and you will be thinking of her. It helped me through a sad time.”
Gina was warmed by Vivian’s offer of such a precious object. “Oh no. I can’t accept what is so cherished to you.”
“Yes, you can. And I want you to. And I pray I’ll never need them again myself.”
“Viv, you’re closer to me than the sister I never had. I love you. What happened to your mom?”
“She’s hitting sixty. She and my dad are looking forward to a retirement on a beach somewhere.”
Not wanting a teary morning send-off, Gina decided to say her goodbyes that night at the party Vivian organized. It was a big group that gathered around the firepit: Vivian, Theo, the girls, Marcus and Edna, Davy, Popo, several displaced soldiers, Robert Louis Stevenson, and a gaggle of ROTC kids. “I’m going to miss you all,” she said to the somber gathering. “I promise to work hard to make your lives easier.”
“Hear, hear,” a soldier called out. He tapped a rhythm on a bongo drum and chanted a limerick:
We’re sending a girl to Manila
Who’s pure and sweet as vanilla.
What the Japs don’t know
Is the girl’s a pro
Who works for the underground guerrilla.
With that, a bottle got passed around, and the party livened up with dancing and drinking to the strums of a guitar, the scratch of a fiddle, and the bongo drumbeat to keep the rhythm moving. The gaiety continued until the fire died.
After the party, Gina carried Cheryl, who was already half-asleep, to her bed. The child had been weepy and clingy for the last few days, increasing Gina’s guilt and causing her to constantly rethink her decision. After helping her into her pajamas, Gina said, “I have something special for you.” She showed Cheryl the two half-heart-shaped lockets and how they clipped together as one.
Cheryl’s eyes widened
as she inspected the gold pendants, clipping them together and taking them apart. “It’s like a puzzle. Can I keep it?”
“Yes, you can keep one, and whenever you get lonesome for me, you can touch this heart and know that I love you and will be thinking of you. I’ll do the same.” Gina fastened one chain around Cheryl’s neck and the other on herself. “Know I love you more than anyone else in the whole world. And nothing will ever change that.” She lifted her sleepy daughter onto the bed and then climbed in beside her and cuddled with her, Cheryl clinging to the locket and Gina breathing the scent of her daughter until the child was fast asleep.
That night sleep never came, and Gina, her hand often going to the locket, gave up the prospect. Alone on the porch, she thought about all she was leaving. She’d made friends and carved out a life here, however hard and humble. The night air smelled fresh and earthy, and the full moon hung so low she felt she could reach out and touch it. Tree limbs and swooping bats showed as silhouettes against the moon’s glow, an ever-changing black-and-white scene. Why had she never noticed the beauty?
At dawn, Gina met Marcus in the yard. As instructed, she had packed only a few clothes and personal items and a small amount of food. Marcus wore a pack on his back and a bolo attached to his belt. He handed Gina a package. “This is from Edna. She said it’s for the trip.”
Inside Gina found a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes, a thermos of water, and two candy bars. “American cigarettes! Where’d she find them?” Gina sniffed the pack.
“She’s been hoarding.”
“I have to thank her!”
“She’ll understand. Let’s go. We’re meeting the guides on the other side of Katana.”
They strode along the path, and as they walked, the sky lightened. Beyond the town Marcus pointed out a lone tree in the distance. “We’re meeting the guides there. Don’t be alarmed when you see them.”
“Why would I be?”
“They’re a little different. Good people, though. Nomadic. Their ancestors came to this country over thirty thousand years ago.”
Gina glanced at Marcus. He seemed to know something about everything.
Waiting for the guides to show, Gina opened her bag and retrieved mangoes and hard-boiled eggs. She gave the mangoes to Marcus to peel while she shelled the eggs. She opened Edna’s thermos of water and took a long swig. “Wow!” She coughed and choked. “Your sister’s full of surprises!” She handed the drink to Marcus, who took a swallow and sneezed it out his nose.
“Edna’s vodka.” He wiped his nose and laughed. “I should have suspected.”
Giggling, they ate the eggs and mangoes, smoked, and passed the thermos back and forth as the blazing sun rose higher in the sky.
“Maybe we’ve been stood up,” Gina said.
“Maybe. Or they’re hiding in the trees watching us. It wouldn’t be unusual.”
A dozen diminutive, dark-skinned, woolly-haired men, carrying bows and arrows, came into the clearing. Despite Marcus’s warning, their appearance gave Gina the willies. Knives of varying lengths were tucked into their G-strings, the only clothing that covered their taut, muscled bodies. As they neared, Gina saw ritual scars on their backs and arms, and teeth that had been filed to points.
One stepped forward, shook Marcus’s hand, and then turned to her.
Marcus said, “Shake his hand, Gina. He learned the greeting from an American soldier.”
Oh, Lordy! She needed another swig from Edna’s thermos. She reached out to him, and the little man almost pumped her arm off.
While the leader and Marcus negotiated, Gina sat on the ground, and the Negritos squatted in a circle around her. When she dug into her pack of belongings, they scooted in closer to watch. The little men smelled feral, and Gina recoiled. She handed a small bag of dried fruit to one man and motioned for him to pass it around. Marcus beckoned for her to come.
“We’ll have four guides. There are two trails. One is longer but an easier walk. The other is steeper but shorter. Do you have a preference?”
“The shorter one, of course.”
The guides helped each other balance the supply bags on top of their heads. Relieved to be on the way, Gina trotted behind their long strides. The trail climbed so steeply in places that she clung to tree roots to pull herself up, and when it turned downhill, she slid on the seat of her pants, and grit scraped her elbows and forearms. They stopped to ford streams or briefly for drinks of water and meals of fruit, dried meat, or an egg, at which time the guides rearranged the bundles on their heads.
Endless time went by, and the sameness of the green gorges and peaks, the chirps of the birds, and the howls of the monkeys became background to Gina’s senses. Winged insects disturbed by their passage rose in clouds around her head as she pushed her way through openings so narrow she had to wiggle through sideways. With one hand she swatted at the insects that crawled down the neck of her blouse, and with the other she protected her face from flicked branches. The soil, black and wet underfoot, seeped through the holes in the bottom of her shoes, while scraps of songs played and replayed in her head and kept her mind off the pain in her back and legs.
The guides stopped the trek, and Gina took her eyes off the ground. She was standing on a ledge that overlooked the forest canopy, a rolling swell of green, brown, and gold that stretched to the horizon. After conversing with the guides, Marcus approached her. “How are you holding up?” he inquired.
She wasn’t going to admit that she was tired, hungry, thirsty, and dirtier than she had ever been. She hoped she didn’t smell bad too. “I’m doing fine. Do these guys ever stop?”
“They’re going to cook us a meal down there.” He pointed down the hundred-foot cliff to a clearing where a small waterfall trickled off the rock face into a stream—an idyllic setting in which to rest. But Gina groaned as she imagined the long, circuitous trail to get from here to there. It would take hours to walk.
“We’re taking a shortcut,” Marcus continued as if reading her mind. He pointed to the guides a short distance away, who were busy tying vines together into what might be a harness.
Gina checked to see if Marcus was grinning—making a joke, maybe—so she could slap at his arm and call him a tease. But his face was chalky. He said, “I’m not good with heights. It’s like a force is drawing me over the edge. Does it affect you that way?”
“No, I’m okay with it.” She noticed the worry in his eyes. “I’m sorry. You should have said something. We could have taken the easier route.”
He shook his head. “I’ll tough it out. My mother always told me to face my fears.” He glanced at the cliff. “Somehow I don’t think she meant that.”
A guide was being lowered down the rock face, taking little steps and hops, as if it were easy, fun even, Gina thought. At the bottom he stepped out of his harness, and the guides at the top pulled it up. After lowering down the packs, a guide beckoned to Gina.
The little man passed the vines behind her back, around her waist, and between her legs and tied the resulting three loops in a tight figure-eight knot, and then he fastened the lowering rope vine to it. Trussed and tied, she stood with her feet planted on the edge of the cliff and leaned back into the harness. It cut into her groin, and she wiggled to readjust it, but no amount of wiggling helped.
“Be careful, Gina!” Marcus barked, and then he addressed the guides. “Be careful with her . . . if anything happens, I’ll—”
The harness gave a bit, and a cry of surprise escaped from her throat. She saw Marcus turn away and walk into the woods, his hands covering his face.
Recovering, she called, “I’m okay. Marcus. I’m okay!”
She took her first baby steps backward as the guides worked the riggings and lowered her down. The ride down the cliff was thrilling, and when her feet touched the ground, she laughed in delight. As she stepped out of the harness, she saw Marcus standing as far back from the edge as he could, his arms folded and his body rocking. Lordy, she thought. What is this doi
ng to him?
Marcus landed a few minutes later, his eyes overly bright and his body soaked in sweat. When he tried to stand, his knees knocked together, and he fell back. “Give me a minute for my head to stop spinning.” He added, “This is embarrassing.”
“It shouldn’t be. Can I get you something? A drink of water?”
He nodded and blew out a breath through puffed cheeks.
Rummaging through the packs for water, she found Edna’s thermos. “Thank you, Edna!” she exclaimed. She took a swig herself before handing it to Marcus. They clapped and shouted bravo when the last guide rappelled down the cliff. When all were on safe ground, the four guides disappeared into the jungle.
Marcus watched them leave. “Two guides are scouting the trail ahead for Jap patrols, and two are hunting for dinner.” He grinned. “Sorry. I forgot to ask your preference . . . herb-crusted roast beef with caramelized onions, potatoes, and carrots, or pancetta salmon kabobs with parsley vinaigrette? You choose; I don’t have much of an appetite.”
Gina chuckled at Marcus’s offering. Glad for the break, she took off her shoes and waded into the stream, splashing water on her face and running wet hands through her hair. “Come on in. It will cool you off,” she called to Marcus, whose face was still ashen. She flicked some water his way. He took his boots off, sat on a rock, and dangled his feet in the water.
He observed her curiously before he spoke. “What’s your background, Gina?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re different. I don’t know any other woman who would do what you just did, and I’ve heard you singing in French. I find you intriguing.”
Gina shrugged. “Hardly intriguing. I traveled through Europe with a musical revue company. They did some light opera, and I learned some French, German, and a little Hungarian. I knew Italian from my grandmother. We were booked at the Alcazar Club in Manila. It’s where I met Ray. You know the rest.” She splashed water his way again. “How about you, Marcus? What brought you to Manila?”
Along the Broken Bay Page 10