Whispers of a New Dawn

by Murray Pura

  “Whatever makes you happy.”

  But Becky wasn’t sure what made her happy anymore. The other students she was training didn’t. Going home and spending the evening with her family didn’t. Going up in the air by herself and flying out over the Pacific didn’t. Even her vow to Moses didn’t. She hated it, but the one thing she looked forward to was climbing into the Piper with Raven. Even though his barrel rolls remained sloppy and his dives slow and shallow. Even though he never smiled. Even though she felt no warmth from him.

  “Let’s go up, Thunderbird.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do the best you can.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Two nights later, the dam broke. She burst into tears in front of Ruth, flinging herself on her bed and burying her face in the summer quilt. “I’m not going to be unfaithful to Moses! I’m not!”

  “Hush, hush.” Ruth sat on her bed and ran a hand over her back. “Why do you think you’re being unfaithful to Moses?”

  “I…I think about Raven too much…I think about him all the time…I don’t even like him—but I can’t stop—”

  “And this is being unfaithful to Moses? How?”

  Becky rolled onto her back and almost snarled at her aunt. “How? I said I’d never fall for another man! Never! That I’d be faithful to Moses through all eternity!”

  “And Moses is in heaven where there is no marrying, no husbands and wives, just love for everyone. If he can see you, he is no longer thinking of you as he did on this earth. He is like the angels. And he loves you now like a sister in the Lord. No more.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “The Bible says it. Shall I read it to you?”

  “I know what the Bible says.” Becky rolled over onto her stomach again, snatching a tissue from a box on her bedside table. “So you think I mean nothing to Moses now?

  “I didn’t say that. I just said he doesn’t see you as a wife anymore. He doesn’t have those feelings. They don’t exist.”

  “But he exists. Except now he has wings.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Becky wiped at her eyes. “This vow has kept me going for months. If I let it go I don’t know what I’ll do with my grief. I’ll probably fall to pieces.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “I will. I’m sure I will. It’s already starting to happen. I pick fights with Mom and Dad. With Nate. With you. I can’t sleep. I don’t have any patience for my female students. I talk out loud when no one’s around. I’m a mess.”

  Ruth smoothed back Becky’s short hair. “What if he said something to you?”

  “Who?”

  “This Christian Raven fellow.”

  “Oh, he says things to me.”

  “I mean nice things. Sweet things.”

  Becky blew out air. “Pah! Are you kidding?”

  Ruth narrowed her eyes. “I am not. Do you think no one has noticed your moods and your fits of ill temper? We’ve been praying for you. All of us. Why may we not expect to see some return on our prayers?”

  “He tried to be nice when we first met. I shut him down, and that was that as far as him being sweet.”

  “Didn’t you say he believed in God?”

  “He says he does. I don’t know what that looks like because I don’t think he’s been showing his faith any more than I have.”

  “If you realize that, then the day will come when he will begin to realize it too. We all have bad days and bad weeks. We all go off on our own roads for a time. Finally the Lord brings us back to our senses and we repent and return to being the person we should be in Christ.”

  “I don’t even know if he believes in Jesus.”

  “Well.” Ruth sat back on her own bed. “There’s one way to get to the bottom of it. Outside of coming right out and asking him to his face, you can offer to pray with him.”

  Becky lifted her head. “What?”

  “You told me you prayed with your other students before each flight.”

  “That’s different. He’s an army pilot. A tough guy. Not to mention praying with me, even if he wanted to pray, is the last thing he is going to do.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “I do know.”

  “You have to take the plunge sometime.” Ruth unpinned her black-and-gray hair and took up her hairbrush. “That’s enough for today. The Bible drama of Esther and the King of Persia continues tomorrow morning at seven sharp.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “There’s a letter I put under your pillow. Not from him. From Bishop Zook.”

  “Bishop Zook? How can he write me?”

  “You have never been baptized or taken your vows. Neither has Nate. So the bishop can have fellowship with you both. It’s the rest of us who are out of bounds.”

  “Why do you put such things under my pillow?”

  “So they don’t get lost.”

  Becky sat up and lifted the pillow. The envelope was thin and had the red, white, and blue diagonal border markings that meant airmail. She opened it and took out a small sheet of paper.

  “It’s a short note. And it’s on really thin paper.”

  “So the Amish are frugal. What does he say?”

  “Shall I read it out loud?”

  Ruth ran the brush through her long hair. “Only if you want to.”

  Becky scanned the note. “It’s personal. But I’m going to read it to you anyway.”

  “Becky—”

  My dear Rebecca,

  God be with you. Not much time has gone by since you left us. I was going to wait until Christmas and send some of Mrs. Zook’s special cake with the almonds in it you like. But after my time of prayer and Bible study this morning I feel compelled by the Lord to take up my pen and send you a note. I will not waste words. Moses, whom you love, and whom I love, is in heaven. He is like the angels now but greater, for not only has he been made in the image of God, he has been redeemed by the Son of God. His work on earth is done. He does not love you or me less but his love is of a different kind, a kind we cannot match until we join him in the eternal presence of the Lord.

  So I say this to you—Moses is no longer a groom; he is no longer the husband you dreamed of. You must seek another. The Lord would have you free to find the partner he has arranged for you before the creation of the world. This man is in the world somewhere—perhaps here in Lancaster County, perhaps there on the Hawaiian Islands. It is his call to love and cherish you all his life. Pray about this man. Look for him with the eyes God gives you. Above all, set yourself free from any vows you may have made to Moses while he dwelt on this earth. And so may Christ shine upon you, my dear.

  Bishop Zook

  “So and what do you think?” asked Ruth.

  “I think everyone is ganging up on me. Including God.” She groaned, put the letter down, and looked out the bedroom window at a sky framed by palm fronds. A sense of being overcome and overwhelmed worked its way across her young face. “All right. I’ll try. I’ll put my best foot forward. With all the men I meet. I think it’s a mistake. But I’ll try.” She glanced at her aunt. “Just because I do that, it doesn’t mean he’s going to respond in the same way. He might just stay a tight-lipped bulldog.”

  “Does he look like a bulldog?”

  A thin smile curved Becky’s lips. “Maybe not.”

  “Let me pray for you. Right now.” Ruth put down her brush.

  “Are you going to pray in German?” asked Becky.

  “Ja. Why?”

  “It seems to work better for me in Amish German.”

  Ruth smiled and took Becky’s hand. “In Amish German it shall be. Gott liebt die deutsche Sprache. God loves the German language.”

  “Especially when the ones praying in it pray for life and peace.” Becky closed her eyes. “All right. I’m ready to take the plunge back into the world I’ve shunned. Go ahead.”

  FOURTEEN

  Instead of running three miles Raven ran six. Then he did five hundred push-ups in sets of fifty
, with a two-minute break between each set. After the push-ups he went to Billy Skipp and asked if his driver could drop him off at Nanakuli. Once Skinny left him at the beach, Raven dove into the six-foot November waves, swimming against them and with them, fighting with the undertow, spitting out seawater, diving as deep as he dared, clawing his way to the surface once his air was gone. Twenty minutes of this and the waves threw him onto the sand. He struggled clear of the surf and sprawled on his back, letting the sun and wind dry him. The chaplain’s words echoed in his mind.

  Okay, Lieutenant, as far as I can see it there are three things, maybe four. You feel a lot of guilt because your kid brother was killed in an airplane you were supposed to bring safely to the ground. That’s one. The guilt has blocked you from being a good combat pilot—you can’t bring yourself to do the stunt flying that killed Timmy, so now you’re not sure you should stay in the military. That’s two. Three, you’ve been taking out your frustration on a female flight trainer. Why? Because she’s the one that’s been ordered to hone your flying skills and she sees only too clearly how you freeze up in the cockpit. It’s humiliating.

  And what’s the fourth?

  My guess is you’re in love with her.

  What? I am not in love with her.

  I’ve seen this sort of thing before. Believe me, being a military chaplain is a lot more than blessing the troops and holding church parade. Hundreds of guys come to me to talk about their wives and their girlfriends or someone they just met who has them turned inside out and upside down.

  Sir, I am not in love with her!

  Why are you getting so worked up?

  Because I don’t love Becky Whetstone and I’m not getting worked up!

  Raven lifted himself on one elbow and watched the thundering waves. Farther down the beach he could see three men surfing. Sitting up he reached over to where he’d folded his uniform and found his Ray-Bans. Putting them on, he stared out over the white-capped Pacific.

  So what do I do?

  With the first one? That’s the biggie, Lieutenant. Your father put you in an impossible situation. That’s the thing you have to realize. Your kid brother should never have been up there to begin with. Nine years old? And you’re supposed to climb back when the plane’s in a spin, get into his cockpit, grab hold of the controls, and pull off a three-point landing? Just like that?

  He said it was my fault. I was too slow getting into Timmy’s cockpit. I should have seen the birds to begin with. I ought to have snagged Timmy while he was falling out.

  Sure. And did he tell you to find a phone booth and put on a red cape and fly after Timmy like the comic-book guy, Superman? You should have caught him before he hit the ground, right?

  I don’t know.

  You do know. Your old man couldn’t blame himself. So he made sure you and your mom took the blame. What did you tell me? That he said your mother should never have let Timmy go up that day? Even though he thought the whole Timmy Dynamite Air Show up and was making tons of money off it?

  Not that day. He lost a lot of money that day. That was another reason for the beatings.

  Did you ever fight back?

  He had two hundred pounds on me.

  Did you?

  When he beat Mom, yeah. But it didn’t do any good. After he’d taken care of me he always went after her three times as hard.

  You have to take this off your back. He was the monster, not you. And you have to take it off this flight trainer’s back. You’re freezing up on the stick because of a death your father caused. Not because of anything the flight trainer’s done. In fact, she wants the curse to go away, doesn’t she? She wants you free, right? She doesn’t want you to keep freezing up.

  Yeah. She’s okay.

  But you treat her the way your old man treated you.

  I haven’t laid a finger on her!

  You beat her up with your mouth, Lieutenant Raven.

  He dove back into the waves, let them rough him up again, got out and waited for the sun to dry him, went behind a bush and changed from his trunks into his uniform, then started up a dirt track to the main road.

  “Of course there’s the whole problem about being a Christian,” he said out loud as he walked. “Mom wouldn’t call it a problem. For her it was always a path. ‘Get back on the path and everything will sort itself out. You’ll end up where you’re supposed to end up.’”

  He didn’t speak again for fifteen minutes. When he did he was no longer talking to himself. “I don’t do well at apologies, God. Or kissing and making up. Not that she’d be interested in the kissing-and-making-up part. It’s one thing to say, ‘Get back on the path.’ What if getting back on the path means doing a bunch of things that are pretty difficult to pull off? Like getting somebody to listen to you without them spitting in your face? She’s as tough as a steel cable, God. I’d have no idea where to begin. ‘The first time I saw you I thought I’d been struck by lightning.’ Lockjaw and Whistler would laugh themselves sick: ‘A great line, Thunderbird, a swell line.’ ‘How about dinner? A dance at the officer’s club? Church? Would you like to go to a great little church I know and pray together?’” Raven barked out a hard laugh. “She slugged Lockjaw for less.”

  Forget the dinner and dance stuff. There’s nothing going on between Becky and you. You know that. So drop it. Just do the right thing—apologize, make amends. Try to give her a barrel roll or two. Stay in the Army Air Forces if you can. Get back on the path.

  Once he reached the main road he stuck out a thumb for a ride. Almost immediately he was picked up by an army truck heading to Wheeler and then the Schofield Barracks. He spent the afternoon with Harrison, who had leave from his Coast Guard vessel Taney and was waiting for him at the bachelor officers’ quarters, and in the evening they linked up with Raven’s fellow pilots Wizard, Juggler, and Batman. The five took a Willys jeep into Honolulu, where a church was having a barbeque on the beach along with a short service.

  “It’s Paul Thor who’s talking, right?” asked Batman. “The tall guy?”

  “Yeah,” replied Wizard, who was combing his hair in the rearview mirror as Batman drove. “He’s all right. Even Lockjaw would listen to Thor.”

  Batman made a sour face. “Sure. If we could ever tie him up and drag him to a service.” He glanced at Wizard. “What’s with the comb?”

  “Maybe I’ll meet my wife there.”

  “Your wife? What wife?”

  “The pretty church girl I hope to meet and marry. That wife.”

  Batman rolled his eyes. “Wizard, the top’s down and your hair’s blowing all over the place. What good is the comb gonna do?”

  “Women gravitate toward the well-groomed male. She’ll be able to tell my hair’s been combed no matter what the wind does.”

  “Gravitate? When did you become the egghead with million-dollar words?”

  Wizard continued to look into the mirror and use his small black comb. “Women prefer education and sophistication over brawn, Batman. That’s why you’ll be drinking punch and talking with Paul Thor about God and I’ll be drinking punch and talking to Hawaii’s version of Rita Hayworth about God. That’s the difference between you and me—I have the brains, I have the class, and I have the hair.”

  Raven turned to Harrison. “My apologies for what’s lacking in our conversation aboard this air force vehicle. I’m sure there is a much higher standard in the Coast Guard.”

  Harrison laughed. “Oh, sure. I’m just glad to get ashore and get to church. Thanks for asking me to tag along.”

  “You anchored at Pearl?” Juggler asked.

  “No. We’re moored right next to it in Honolulu Harbor at Pier 6.”

  “I’ve been here since June and still haven’t taken a walk along Battleship Row.”

  “Hey, I’d be happy to be your tour guide. Pick a day. We’ll want to make sure some of the aircraft carriers are in. They’re always sending them off somewhere.”

  “What carriers are in port?”

 
Harrison thought about it as the jeep sped along. “The Lexington. The Enterprise. That’s it right now.”

  Juggler’s forehead creased in disappointment. “What about the big battleships?”

  “Don’t worry. They’re not going anywhere. The Navy doesn’t move them around as much as they do the carriers and cruisers. Choose a date, we’ll get clearance, and I’ll show you the sights.”

  “Hey.” Batman turned his head. “I want to get in on that.”

  “Me too,” said Wizard who had stopped combing his hair for the moment.

  Harrison smiled. “The Coast Guard can handle it.”

  There was already a fire going and a pig roasting when they arrived. Three men and a woman were playing guitars and leading singing for about a hundred people seated on the sand at Waikiki Beach, just down from the Moana Hotel. The five servicemen joined them. After a half hour of singing Paul Thor, dressed in a bright-red Hawaiian shirt with pineapples, palm trees, and flowers along with khaki shorts, got up and began to talk about forgiveness, his Bible open in his hand. He only spoke for ten minutes but when he was finished Batman leaned over to Raven.

  “Hey. Thunderbird. That sure cleans out the pipes.”

  “Yeah,” Raven responded, Thor’s words still tumbling about in his head.

  “Letting go and moving on.”

  “Yeah.”

  After grace they lined up for food and Raven put ten dollars in a bucket to cover the five of them. A woman sitting beside the bucket protested.

  “Oh, no donation is necessary from servicemen, sir. You do enough for us already.”

  “I haven’t done anything, ma’am, except fly planes in circles.”

  “You’re a pilot?”

  “All of us are. Except our friend in Coast Guard whites. He’s from the cutter Taney.”

  She gave him the ten-dollar bill back. “Do you fly the new P-40 Warhawks, Lieutenant?”

  “I don’t. Batman here does. And Wizard.”

  “Batman? Like the comic book?”

  “He’s a lot like the comic book.”

  “The P-36 is about to be mothballed.” Wizard grinned.

  “We’ll see about that,” grunted Raven. “It’s a tough plane.”