I looked up at his face, at his eyes, which were brimming with tears. I felt my own tears. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.
I took a breath. My voice was as gruff as his when I said, “I love you too.” And somehow it was true. What he’d been doing was working secretly for the government. Hadn’t I known that all along? Hadn’t he given me a chance to be with him? He couldn’t have known how terribly this would turn out.
He spread his hands on the table. “So, early tonight you’ll go to the kayak and stay there. I’ll manage to go to the harbor—” He broke off. “Come back for the food…”
For a moment, he was silent. “I’ll bring the two-man kayak to you. The ship will come for the rest of the village, poor people, but we’ll be ready to leave.”
“How will you know which cove?” I asked. “How will you know where I am?”
“I’ve been watching you. You’re resourceful, brave. I’m proud of you, Matt.”
“Why can’t we just wait and then come back here to the village?”
“I’m not sure we’ll be alone. It’s possible that they’ll leave men here, or even come back later.”
There was no help for it. What could I do? I nodded. “All right.”
SEPTEMBER! I pulled the beret down over my forehead. I was freezing cold. How soon would we have snow? I couldn’t wait.
I walked along the path, hands in my pockets, trying not to trip over stones. I wondered what I’d done with those furry gloves from last Christmas. I still wore my bracelet though. I’d never taken it off.
I thought of my old teacher, Mrs. Dane, maybe because school would have been starting at home. She’d said once, You could do anything if only you’d set your mind to it, Izzy. She’d frowned, her forehead a washboard. Was she thinking, You never do?
But what she wanted me to set my mind to! Her favorite author, some old guy with a beard to the floor, long division, the history of some place called Mesopotamia, and worst of all, reading every night from the most boring book in the world. Thirty minutes by the clock, she’d told the class.
I hadn’t done it once.
What made me think of her and that fifth-grade list of miseries?
You could do anything.
The wires were in front of me, twisted together, a rare sun glinting on them. On the other side was the enemy camp, with the soldier from last night staring at me.
I kept walking toward the church, reaching out, one finger on the wires. I stooped, pretending to look at a small yellow flower that grew next to them. Someone had trampled on it.
Then I saw the loop where the wires had been joined together.
I looked up and the soldier was gone.
Could I twist them with my fingers?
Set your mind to it!
I bent down and picked the poor yellow flower with half its petals missing. And glanced up again, looking toward the harbor. Another ship was in the port.
Our army, come to get us?
We’d be free!
But I saw the enemy flag. I turned and went back to the house. Head bent, Mom was working on her book.
I wandered around for the rest of the day, ate the skinny little fish the men brought back, and at last, still hungry, I peered out at the dark.
I waited until Mom slept, until there wasn’t a flicker of light from the schoolhouse or the church. I had everything ready: my shoes pointed in the right direction, my jacket zipped so I could pull it over my head.
Outside, I nearly fell over something on the step. I sank down. Wrapped in paper next to me were two small fish.
How had they gotten there?
Matt!
It had to be. He’d been fishing, sorry he’d always been so mean! To make up for it: food!
I stared down at the poor fish; their dead eyes stared up at me. I reached for one.
I was starving!
I ate more than half, tore off a piece of paper to wrap it in, and tucked the other bit in my pocket. Maybe I’d see the dog.
I tiptoed back inside and left the other fish for Mom. And then I was hurrying, listening for soldiers, watching for them.
I began to twist open the wire loops. It was hard, the wires sharp, and my fingers began to bleed.
Never mind.
One by one, the wires fell away. I ducked through and looped them together again, loosely so I could get back easily.
Strange, no light from the soldiers’ camp; I didn’t spot one soldier. But tonight, as always, there was fog. It was hard to see far ahead.
The air felt different, maybe because I was free, cleaner maybe, sharp and easier to breathe.
I kept going, vaguely hearing the sound of whistles. I told myself they couldn’t be looking for me.
A huge blast came from a ship’s horn! Were the soldiers leaving? I couldn’t believe it could happen.
I began to climb Thor Hill, stones rattling behind me. I didn’t care about noise now; so many sounds were coming from the village.
I stayed out, walking slowly, careful not to slip. I rested on the rocks after a while, thinking about Dad’s cave, but I’d never find it on this misty night.
But tomorrow. Or next week. You could do anything, Izzy.
I lay on an overhang. A faint glimmer of light was beginning to edge across the sea.
How long had I been free? When would it be dawn? I began to think about going back.
I reached into my pocket for the fish and took another bite. It was salty and good, even raw; I could have eaten a dozen.
The wind began, blowing the fog away. It was a strong wind, a williwaw. I caught glimpses of the angry surf.
I squinted at the ship docked close to the landing in the harbor. Was that a line of soldiers climbing onto the ramp? Two of them were dragging a man along. He was fighting them, determined to get free. He wore a jacket that was like Matt’s father’s. Could that be?
In moments, he disappeared onto the ship.
I leaned over the edge and felt my glasses slip. I reached up, dropping the fish.
But it was too late.
The fish was gone, and the glasses too, so far down, I never heard the sound as they reached the ground.
What was I going to do?
Without my glasses, the whole world was blurred. I’d always needed them, always put them on the moment I woke, and kept them right next to me in bed at night.
How would I even find my way home?
I blinked, thinking Mom would be awake soon, and she’d know what to do.
I heard another blast of the ship’s horn. I squinted at the harbor. Was the ship moving? I couldn’t be sure without my glasses, but I thought it might be.
I stumbled down the hill, scattering stones, my hands in front of me, almost like a blind person.
I walked along slowly, grasping the wires then, feeling for the loops, and managed to open them. It was light by the time I reached the village.
How quiet it was. Our door was open, and inside, on the table, was a note. The words were scrawled, not like Mom’s usually neat handwriting.
I sat at the table and pulled it toward me. I couldn’t see what it said. Not one word. I turned the paper, one way and then another. Ship. Japan.
Was Mom on that ship? Was it going to a prison camp? In Japan?
I could hardly breathe.
Was I alone?
Left here, by myself?
I waited for Pop all night. I kept going over everything to be sure I’d understood what he’d planned. He’d take a two-man kayak from the shed, paddle around until he reached my cove.
How did he know where it was? I’ve been watching you.
Oh, Pop.
I knew now why Mom always stuck up for him. I thought of that last night at home in Connecticut. What had Mom said? You’ll see, Matt.
I’d wondered what she was talking about. I understood now.
Pebbles of sleet stung my head; my hands were cold, even inside the gloves Pop had made me wear. I could have wrung the water out
of my jacket.
The middle of September on the island, after all.
The kayak swung around, the rope grating against the rocks. Where was Pop?
I tried to concentrate on his plan again. We’d take the food, fishing rods, and hope for good weather. Would it work?
In the distance, a ship’s horn blasted.
I was crying! A big kid, almost as tall as Pop, as good a fisherman as some of the men in the village!
A deserted village.
I slumped over in my seat, eyes closed, soaked with sleet, and waited for Pop.
It was completely light when I climbed up on the rocks looking out. The ship was only a blur on the horizon.
What had happened to Pop?
I went back to the village and threaded my way among the houses, looking for him. The dog barked somewhere.
Maybe I’d see Pop somewhere down near the harbor.
WAS Mom on that ship? I put down the note. I had to get to the harbor. I tried to run, tripped and fell.
Scrambling up, I shouted, “Wait!”
I stumbled over open boxes and suitcases that littered the path in front of the houses, that made me fall again. Everyone must have left in a hurry, probably pushed by the soldiers.
I sank down at the harbor, crying, calling, “Please!”
But the ship was gone.
The sun came up, chasing rain and a williwaw away; it glinted on the roofs and the church steeple.
Mom was farther away every minute. She’d be frantic, my soft Mom, wondering where I was, what I was doing. I thought of home. Gram. Even Mrs. Dane. But…
I couldn’t stay at the harbor forever. I wiped my swollen eyes with my sleeve and stood up.
What could I do? I could hardly see without my glasses.
The dog was barking. Feeling my way along the path to the church, I went toward him.
I sank down next to him, threw my arms around him, and buried my head in his neck. A bag lay on the church steps, and someone’s sweater.
Who’d left them there? And what was in the bag?
I was still hungry in spite of everything. I thought of candy, of lemon cake with icing. I could almost taste a slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream melting on top.
The dog would be as hungry as I was. What would he dream about? A bone? A biscuit?
I inched forward, reaching for the bag. It was almost empty, a couple of fishhooks, a ball of knotted wire.
I pushed it away from me and put the sweater over my shoulder. I pretended someone was hugging me.
But I had to eat.
I stood up. Maybe something had been left inside one of the houses. A bit of fish, an oyster or two in a pail?
The dog stood next to me. I put my hand on his warm fur to guide me and began to search. It took forever. Maria’s house was first. Her bed was rumpled; a blanket lay on the floor. Her books were still there in a pile.
I didn’t bother with my own house; I knew there wasn’t a scrap to eat.
But Matt’s house! On the counter there was food: a box of soda crackers, a bowl of sugar, a few strips of dried salmon, and a tin of flour, dented and old-looking. Maybe Matt’s father had brought it from home long ago.
I dipped my fingers into the sugar, sucking up that sweetness. I hadn’t tasted anything like it since we’d arrived on the island.
What else?
I chewed on one of the salmon strips and thought again of the dog. I scooped up five or six strips and went back to him.
We sat there eating, my arm around him again. “You belong to me now,” I said fiercely. “And I belong to you.”
I choked in my breath. I had to stop crying. I had to do something with this day.
I wandered through the village, the dog following, both of us chewing on pieces of salmon. It was so cold, so windy. I glanced up at the blur of mountain. Too late for eggs, of course.
By afternoon, I thought again about the bag with the fishhooks and wire and went back for it. I’d have to give up a little of the salmon, but maybe I’d catch a fish. There might be some berries in the fields. “We’ll be all right, I guess,” I told the dog. I’d call him Willie, a gray williwaw.
Sitting on the wharf, I tried to fish. It took forever to untangle the wire. Without glasses, it was almost impossible to thread the hook on one end and stab a piece of salmon onto it. But somehow I managed.
I dangled the line into the water, but nothing happened. Not even a nibble!
What had I done wrong?
I knew I had to have patience. I watched the horizon, squinting as I searched for a ship, but all I saw was the curve of black water against a gloomy sky.
Hours later, I threw the whole thing onto the sand near the wharf. I’d never be a fisherman.
The sky turned dark. Waves crashed up against the wharf. A tern streaked above me. Mom would have said he was left behind, that he should have been flying toward the sea around the Philippines for the winter.
Left behind like me.
I was glad for the noise of the surf. I didn’t want it to be quiet. I wanted to pretend that people were walking back and forth, that Mom was in the house writing in her notebook, or maybe outside, looking up at the birds. I felt an ache in my chest, missing her, wanting her.
I went down to Matt’s house and closed the door firmly behind me, shutting out the wind. I ate a little more of the sugar.
It was time to think about what I’d do, here alone. But a ship would come back for me. Mom would tell them.
What if there was no ship for a week? A month?
What if it never came?
Don’t think idiotic thoughts, I told myself.
I lit a fire in the stove for warmth, wondering how I didn’t burn myself. I thought of the bag of flour, then fell asleep on Matt’s couch, to dream of breaded fish, breaded oysters, bread!
I awoke only once during the night, hearing the driving rain on the roof as I pulled a knitted afghan over my feet.
In the distance, Willie barked.
I ate a scoop of sugar on my way outside, but I had to save the rest for later. I left Matt’s door open for when the dog came back.
Right now, I needed to go back to my own house and gather warm clothes, and a toothbrush.
From now on, Matt’s place would be my place. Somehow the food lined up on the counter made me feel better, made me feel like staying here.
The day was clear. Even though the world was blurred, I could picture dolphins far out, playing in the water.
I heard the sound of engines, and overhead, saw the wings of a plane.
Americans?
It flew low, and as it passed over the island, I stood up on tiptoes, waving.
Of course, the pilot couldn’t see me. But there was a pilot. A person. I wasn’t so alone. I reminded myself that even in this war, there were people. Someone would find me; I had to hope that.
I went into my house and grabbed everything up that I needed. I stopped to take Mom’s sweater too. I’d cuddle around it at night, feeling Mom next to me.
I was more than tired after being in the kayak all night, waiting for Dad. When it was light, I finally gave up. I didn’t go to our house, though. Not without Pop there.
Instead I went to the schoolhouse, to my old classroom, and lay on the floor, pulling my jacket around me.
I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned.
What had happened to him?
I went over our plan again and again: the two-man kayak. Pop coming to my cove.
Could I have made a mistake? Or was it something else?
Had he fallen against the rocks somewhere? Or had he been caught by the soldiers and taken to the ship? Maybe he was on his way to a prison camp in Japan.
It was terrible to think about.
I couldn’t sleep after all. I’d have to go home, to see if somehow he might be there. If not, I had to search. And in spite of everything, I was hungry. Would Pop have taken the food, or would it still be in the house?
The do
or was open. Unlike Pop not to have been more careful. And inside was a mess!
A blanket was balled up on the couch, and the kitchen! A thin line of sugar trailed along the floor. A few strips of dried salmon lay on the table. Pop had said we’d have food. But it had to have been more than this. Someone must have taken some of it.
I glanced into the bedrooms, then went back to the living room and sank down on the couch. Someone had been there, and it hadn’t been Pop. Some of the soldiers might have stayed.
The most important thing…I began to tell myself.
What was the most important thing?
To get out of the house.
To get out now.
I raced into my bedroom, grabbed an extra sweater, dry pants, and the jacket Mom had given me before I’d left home, small now, but warm.
I dashed back through the living room and into the kitchen, scooping up salmon, and went out the front door.
I had to find a place to stay while I searched for Pop, and it couldn’t be in the village. It had to be where I could see the houses, and maybe the soldiers.
Where?
I couldn’t think of that now.
Pop first.
I looked around. Where to begin?
OUTSIDE, Willie was staring up at me. How hungry that poor dog must be.
I thought of flour, of biscuits. With a pile of stuff in my arms, I went back to Matt’s, Willie following.
Inside, I dropped the clothes on the couch and draped Mom’s sweater over my shoulders.
I closed my eyes. What had Mom done with flour? She’d swirled it with water, dropped it in a pan.
There was more, but I couldn’t remember what it was.
I rummaged around for a pan. Actually, my fingers were doing the finding. How wonderful it had been to see with my glasses.
I pumped water from outside and sloshed it in with the flour. Willie and I watched as my biscuits, if that was what they were, cooked on the hot stone above the fireplace.
“Not too long, I think,” I told Willie. “We just have to have a little patience.”
Then: “Enough.”
I managed to find two plates in the cabinet, scraped out some of the biscuits, which were mostly stuck to the pan, then sat at the table with the dog on the floor next to me.
Island War Page 5