Garden of Her Heart (Hearts of the War Book 1)

by Shanna Hatfield

  “I might ask you the same thing, stranger.” Rock pulled the front door shut behind him and stepped outside. He stood almost a foot taller than the nasty salesman who reeked of booze, sour clothes, and cheap cigarettes.

  “I thought this place would be empty. Didn’t these Japs get run off to the assembly center in Portland?” The man fairly spat the word Japs as he sneered.

  Rock’s expression remained blank as he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets to keep from punching Norman Ness in the nose. Japs were the enemy shooting down planes and blowing up boats in the Pacific. The Yamada family was about as American as apple pie and baseball. In fact, he had an idea the girl cowering in the basement had more patriotism in her little finger than the buffoon standing in front of him possessed in his entire body.

  Rock widened his stance in a maneuver he’d employed any number of times to intimidate a foe. “The Yamada family isn’t here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Norman slowly turned around, surveying the oasis of flowers and greenery around him. “They’ve only been gone a few weeks. How’d you move in so fast?”

  “Maybe I purchased the farm from them.” Rock crossed his arms over his chest. “Ever think of that?”

  Norman’s head snapped around. “Got a deed? If you didn’t buy this place fair and square, you better start packing. I’ve had my eye on this farm for a long time. You don’t have any right to take it out from under me! It’s mine! If you want to farm, go squat on one of the other abandoned Jap places.”

  Rock dropped his façade and hardened his glare. His right hand clenched into a fist and he took a threatening step forward. “You try taking over this farm and it might just be the last thing you do. Now get out of here before I phone the sheriff and have you arrested for trespassing.”

  The man grabbed the two cases he’d set down and took a hurried step back, tripping on the top step and scrambling to keep from falling down the rest of them.

  Fury rode the scowl he tossed at Rock. “You can’t threaten me, soldier. I’ll be back and when I do return, you’ll be the one leaving.”

  “We’ll just see about that, Ness. Now, get out of here.” Rock stood firm and unyielding on the top step of the porch, presenting a formidable barrier to the house.

  Norman hastened into his car and slung gravel across the driveway as he left, screaming curses out the open window.

  Rock waited until the car disappeared down the road before returning inside the house. He made his way to the door to the basement and opened it. “You can come out now,” he called down the darkened stairs.

  Defeat rode the slump of Miko’s shoulders as she climbed the steps. Without saying a word, she made two cups of tea and sat down at the table.

  Rock joined her, taking a sip of the tea for something to do, not because he liked drinking the strange brew of herbs she insisted was good for his health.

  “Did you hear any of that?” he asked.

  Slowly, she nodded. “I heard it all.”

  “Do you want to tell me where your grandparents are and why you’re afraid to be seen?” Rock leaned back in the chair, doing his best to appear relaxed.

  He rested the weight of his gaze on Miko, staring into eyes that reminded him of an obsidian rock he’d once found on a hike with his dad. Glossy and such a deep shade of brown they were almost black, her almond-shaped peepers shimmered with shame and guilt.

  From the moment he regained his senses, he’d known she was hiding something, but up until that moment, he hadn’t realized what.

  “Miss Nishimura, I can’t help you if you don’t fill me in on all the details.”

  Miko sighed and dropped her eyes to the untouched cup of tea in front of her. Telling the truth seemed like the best idea.

  “It all started back in February, when my employer fired me because I’m Japanese. With nothing else to occupy my time, I went to Tillamook to stay with my friend until her baby arrived. Her father is the pastor of our church.” Absently, she rubbed a finger around the rim of the teacup. “My father called on a lovely Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago to let me know I needed to rush home. Anyone of Japanese descent in the Oregon evacuation area had been ordered to report to the Portland Assembly Center by noon on May fifth. In spite of my best efforts, returning home proved difficult. The ticket agents at the bus station wouldn’t sell a ticket to me, so my friend Sally procured one. Unfortunately, once I was on the bus, I ran into more trouble.”

  Rock stared at her. “What sort of trouble?”

  Miko shrugged. “The bus driver took exception to having someone Japanese on his bus and terminated my privilege to ride.”

  A vertical line etched across his brow as he frowned. “You mean he kicked you off the bus?”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “Where?”

  She glanced out the kitchen window rather than meet his gaze. “About twenty miles from here.”

  Rock leaned forward and rested both arms on the table. “How’d you get home?”

  “I walked.” Miko took a sip of her swiftly cooling tea.

  “You walked?” Incredulous, he rocked back in the chair, unable to comprehend what she’d done. “When did you get here?”

  “About five minutes before I found you on the back step.” She spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

  Rock made up for it as his voice rose in volume. “Are you crazy, woman? You walked home twenty miles in the rain, at night, on a dark road, all alone? I suppose you were lugging a suitcase, too.”

  Her spine straightened and she held his gaze. “Yes, I was, but I had no choice. What was I supposed to do? Wait for some heroic soldier to come along and sweep me off my feet?” A disgusted snort escaped her. “Believe me, I’d have been just one more dead Jap if I’d waited for that to happen. As it was, the few people who stopped to help took off like they’d encountered someone carrying the plague when they realized I was Japanese.”

  Rock reached across the table with his right hand, settling it over hers. “Did anyone hurt you?”

  Touched by his concern, she shook her head. “No. Not physically.” Another sigh rolled up from her chest and out her lips. “I’m a fugitive for not reporting to the assembly center. On top of that, I’m afraid to leave the farm unattended. You heard that horrid man, Rock. He’ll come back and take over, and there isn’t a thing I can do to stop him.”

  “Sell me the farm, Miko. Sell me the farm, give me the deed, and I promise I won’t let him or anyone else take over the place until your grandparents return.” Rock had no idea where the words he’d just spoken came from, but he rapidly warmed to the idea.

  Her gaze lifted to his, shocked by his brash offer. “You’d do that? Keep the farm safe for them?”

  “I would. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be buried six feet under and waiting for summer daisies to grow. It’s my fault you didn’t report at the center, isn’t it?” he asked, suddenly aware of what his presence at the farm had cost Miko.

  At her nod, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the backs of her fingers. “I owe you my life, Miko Nishimura, and there isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  “Just keep the farm safe, Rock. That’s all I ask. I suppose I should find a ride into town and report to the assembly center.” Miko knew that was what she should do, but it wasn’t what she wanted to do. Not at all. She looked across the table at Rock and studied him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth earlier. I was… I just…”

  Rock smiled and released her hand, disturbed by how good it felt to hold her slender fingers with his. “You didn’t want me to worry or feel guilty since I’m the reason you stayed. Is that it?”

  Rather than answer, she took their teacups to the sink and poured out the tepid liquid, then opened the refrigerator, setting out leftovers for their lunch.

  Rock moved behind her as she sliced a loaf of bread so they could eat sandwiches. His right hand settled on her shoulder in a comforting touch. “Don’t leave, Miko
. Not yet. Let me think through a plan before you do something hasty. In the meantime, if you know where your grandfather might have kept the deed, you better find it.”

  Tears blurred her eyes, but she remained stiff and kept her back to him as she worked, wondering what she’d do when the time came to tell the teasing, good-looking soldier good-bye.

  Chapter Six

  “Miko? Miko! Are you in there?” Rock called, standing in the doorway of the large storage building. He’d noticed the open doors and wandered over to look inside.

  The past two days, he’d listened to every news report on the radio, hoping to hear more about the evacuation of the Japanese in America. Other than a story about the authorities taking a few Japanese Americans into custody for failing to report to the assembly center, the news focused mostly on what took place overseas.

  Rock prayed for his friends in action and made plans for the farm, hoping Miko would agree to go along with them.

  He decided to walk to the nearest bus stop and see if he might make his way into Portland. When he was cleaning the produce stand the previous afternoon, he’d found a jar of coins. There was more than enough in the jar to purchase a bus ticket.

  Thoughts of taking the bus flew right out of his head as he gawked at two cars and an older farm truck. A four-door dark blue sedan appeared to be a few years old, but in excellent condition. Parked next to it was a car that drew Rock in for a closer inspection.

  The new Packard convertible coupe sported white sidewall tires and enough shiny chrome to make him wish he had a pair of sunglasses.

  “I thought I heard you calling for me,” Miko said, climbing down a ladder on the far end of the building with an arm full of berry crates.

  Rock rushed to help her. By the time he threaded his way through the packed contents of the building, she was already on the floor.

  “That’s quite a car,” he said, taking half the berry crates from her and motioning to the convertible.

  “Thanks. I bought it when I was still gainfully employed,” she said, walking over to the car. “I fell in love with the color the first time I saw it and started saving my money to buy one. When the weather’s nice, it’s fun to drive with the top down.”

  Rock gaped at her. “It’s your car?”

  Miko grinned. “Is that a hint of disbelief I hear, Captain? Not only is it my car, but I know how to change the tires, check the oil, and siphon gas out of my dad’s car when my brother, Tommy, borrows it and brings it back empty.”

  He laughed, setting down the crates and wiping his hands along his trousers before touching the car. “It is a beaut. What’s this color?”

  “Laguna maroon. Papa calls it the luna moon mobile, but I still think it’s one of the prettiest colors out there.” Miko opened the driver’s side door and motioned for Rock to climb in.

  He sank into the leather seat and inhaled the aroma as if it was the most expensive perfume.

  “Like it?” Miko asked, bending down to better see his reaction to the car.

  “You bet!” He settled his hands on the steering wheel, forcing his injured fingers to curl around the wheel.

  “If you like the outside of the car, you’ll probably be more impressed by the eight cylinders under the hood.” Miko released the hood latch and Rock slid out to study the engine.

  He whistled and smirked at Miko. “What’s a girl like you doing with a car like this?”

  “Anything I want,” she said with a sassy grin. “At least it used to be that way.”

  Rock sobered and closed the hood, using the hem of his T-shirt to wipe away the smudges made by his fingerprints.

  “I didn’t realize you had cars here. I was trying to figure out how to catch a ride on the bus into Portland.”

  “By all means, drive one of the cars wherever you need to go.” She pointed to her grandparents’ sedan. “Papa and Mother must have sold their car or it would be here, too. Granddad wouldn’t care if you took his.” She cast a taunting look his way. “Or, if you think you can handle it, you’re welcome to drive mine.”

  His raised an eyebrow at her dare as he lifted the berry baskets and followed her out the door. “Is that an invitation or a challenge?”

  “Maybe both.” She turned and sauntered away, casting a flirty smile at him over her shoulder.

  Rock watched her walk toward the strawberry patch. In the past, the girls who had attracted his attention were generally petite, buxom, and most often blond. He enjoyed being the big hero to their diminutive helplessness.

  If he envisioned the exact opposite of the type of girl he usually dated, Miko fit the description to the letter. Tall, lithe, graceful, and confident, she didn’t need a hero. In his opinion, she was one.

  The woman was in constant motion, working with a quiet steadiness that impressed him more than anything any other woman had ever done to win his favor.

  Rock no longer worried that he’d been left like forgotten baggage at death’s back door. Instead, he greeted each new day feeling more hearty and robust than the day before. He hadn’t had a dizzy spell in more than a week, could draw in deep breaths without his lungs threatening to explode, and the pain in his stomach had dissipated.

  Again, he wondered if something at the hospital had made him ill. The possibilities seemed endless as he considered the number of medications he took and the aromas in the air. He may never know what had nearly killed him, but he held hope that whatever it was had worked its way out of his system.

  Most of the credit for his returning health belonged to Miko. She’d nursed him as well as anyone trained in the art, fed him nourishing food, and encouraged him to take in all the sunshine and fresh air he could handle.

  Now, almost three weeks after he’d escaped from the hospital, he felt like a new man. One no longer sentenced to die an agonizing death. Because of the woman down on her hands and knees searching between the leafy strawberry plants for ripe fruit, he had hope for a future.

  He carried the baskets over to where she carefully worked her way down the row, finding a few ripe early berries.

  When she glanced back at him and popped one into her mouth, his heart tripped in his chest.

  Surely, he wasn’t attracted to her. To a woman nearly his height with gleaming hair the color of midnight and a slender, willowy form that put him in mind of some mythical legend from the stories his mother had told him as a child. The very scent of her brought to mind secluded tropical beaches and soothing ocean air.

  Miko turned to hand him a berry and he was filled with an unbidden desire to kiss away the drop of red juice clinging to her enticing bottom lip.

  Tempted as he was to give in to his yearning, footsteps pounding against the earth from behind the barn interrupted his amorous thoughts.

  Before Miko had the opportunity to hide, a youngster appeared that represented Rock’s ideal of an all-American boy.

  The lad possessed a mop of red hair, a lock of which seemed determined to flop across his forehead and dangle in his left eye. A supply of freckles, one of the most ample Rock had ever witnessed, covered not only the boy’s nose, but also his entire face. Blue eyes, the same color as summer skies, sparked with life and mischief.

  “Golly, Miko! I’ll tell the world, but they held me hostage against my will and it’s taken three weeks to convince Pop to spring me. You’d’a thunk they captured a German for all the fuss that went on trying to keep me someplace I didn’t want to be,” the boy said animatedly. He brushed the shock of hair from his eyes as he approached the berry patch.

  Miko stepped over the rows of plants and took a seat on the grass beyond the edge of the strawberry patch. The boy offered Rock a snappy salute, then plopped down beside her.

  “Who’s the soldier?” he asked, turning his inquisitive gaze from Rock to Miko.

  She smiled and settled a hand on the youngster’s back. “Petey Phillips, I’d like you to meet my friend, Captain Rock Laroux.” Before turning her attention to the boy, Miko winked at Rock. “Petey�
�s parents own the farm just down the road. His family has been friends with my grandparents for years and years.”

  “Are you a real, honest-to-goodness Captain?” Petey jumped back up and took a step closer to Rock, tipping his head back to stare at him.

  Rock dropped down to one knee and stuck out his hand in greeting. The boy grasped it in his, pumping his little arm up and down. “I sure am, Petey. Or at least I was before my plane went down.”

  Miko glanced at him in curiosity, hoping he’d go into more detail. Instead, he took a seat beside her. Petey flopped down next to him, clearly struck with an immediate case of hero worship.

  She leaned around Rock to speak to the boy. “Petey, you said you’ve been held hostage. Where were you?”

  “Jeepers, but I’ve been imprisoned at my Aunt Nancy’s house in the city. She’s about as bossy and cranky as they come. The only one bossier and crankier than her is my cousin Ida. She’s thirteen and thinks she’s the smartest thing to hit the dirt since Plato.” Petey rubbed a questionably clean finger beneath his nose, then leaned back in the grass. “One evening right after supper, Mom got sick and Dad rushed her to the hospital. Aunt Nancy picked me up there and I’ve been stuck at her house for half of forever.”

  “Is your mother well?” Miko asked, moving as though she planned to get to her feet and march right over to the Phillips’s farmhouse to check on the woman.

  “Aw, she’s fine, but while she was at the hospital, someone gave her a dumb ol’ baby. That’s all she and Pop have done the last few weeks is wait on that squawking little monkey. Pop brought me out to see it twice, but he and Mom thought it best if I stayed with Aunt Nancy awhile.”

  “Don’t you like your baby sister, Petey?” Miko asked, continuing to lean around Rock. “What’s her name?”

  “Alice. They named her Alice Marie. If they had to drag home a crying, pooping machine, I sure wish it would’ve been a boy.” Petey twirled a blade of grass in his fingers, oblivious to the humor his straightforward assessment caused.