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

by Shanna Hatfield

  Rock was thin in the photograph, a smaller, younger version of himself. Longer hair flopped across his forehead, but the bright light in his eyes and the teasing warmth of his smile remained the same.

  “It’s you,” she whispered, brushing a finger over the image she held.

  “I already told you it’s me in the photo with my dad.”

  Miko stared at the photograph. “Back when Ellen and I were silly girls, a very nice man used to visit the produce stand with his son. They came to get strawberries in June, peaches in August, and pumpkins in October. He always had Bit-O-Honey candy to share, and even though I never remembered his name, I always remembered his kindness. And I absolutely couldn’t forget his son, but his dad always called him Chet. Ellen and I both thought he was something special.”

  A becoming blush pinked her cheeks as she glanced up at Rock. “I thought you were the most handsome boy I’d ever set eyes on. You always teased Ellen and me about something when you were here. I was thoroughly infatuated with you the summer I was thirteen, but you never came back after that August.”

  Rock was shocked that she remembered him. He had given up on her recalling the summers he’d stopped by with his dad. Although Miko and her sister had been far too young for him to flirt with, he did have fun teasing smiles out of them. He had no idea that Miko had liked him.

  “That’s when I left for college,” he said.

  Miko again glanced down at the photo. “You must have thought Ellen and I were absolute ninnies.”

  He reached across the table and touched her hand, gently running his thumb across her knuckles. “Not at all. I thought you both were cute little girls, but I don’t remember one of you being taller than the other.”

  “I had a big growth spurt when I was fourteen. It was the most miserable year of my life. I was taller than all the boys in my class. Mother decided I was doomed to live my life alone because no respectable man would want a wife towering over him like some freakish monster. By the time I was sixteen, a few of the boys had caught up to me and my future didn’t seem as tragic.”

  Rock grinned. “If I’d known then how beautiful you’d be now, I might have worked a little harder at making a good impression on you.”

  “You always made a good impression, Captain Laroux, even if I didn’t know your real name.” She gave him a questioning glance. “All this time, I’ve been trying to recall meeting a boy named Rock at the produce stand and the one face that stuck in my mind was yours. Why did your father call you Chet?”

  He shifted uncomfortably on his chair and withdrew his hand from hers. “He was the only one who called me that. If anyone else tried, they generally went home with a black eye or a bloody nose.”

  Puzzled, she waited for him to continue. “There’s nothing wrong with the name Chet.”

  Rock sighed. “No, but it’s the full name that goes along with it that’s a mouthful.”

  She held his gaze. When he hesitated to speak, she reached across the table and nudged his arm. “Now you have to tell me. What is your full name? You already know I’m Kamiko Jane Nishimura and that the kids in school called me Kami Jane.”

  “My middle name is after my dad, so I don’t mind it, but the rest of it…” Rock sat in silence for a full minute before he finally blurted, “It’s Rochester. Rochester James Laroux.”

  Miko stared at him a long moment. One side of her mouth quivered, followed by the other. Her lower lip trembled as she did her best not to laugh.

  Slightly annoyed, he narrowed his gaze. “Go on, let it out.”

  Her giggles popped like bubbles around him, drawing out his smile. “I’m not laughing because I think your name is bizarre. It’s just that Rochester makes me think of some stodgy little professor with pale skin, soft hands, and a tendency to sniffle.”

  Rock laughed and winked at her. “Well, I’m glad I don’t live up to my name, then.”

  “Oh, but you do.” She took his hand in hers, offering a reassuring squeeze. “In the weeks I’ve known you, since you’ve been well, anyway, you’ve been a solid rock in a suddenly chaotic world.” Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  The smile he gave her started at his lips, filled his eyes, and overflowed from his heart. “I’d be dead without you, Miko. For saving my worthless hide, your every wish is my command.”

  “In that case…” The sassy smile she cast his way sent his temperature climbing. The implication that she would call in a future favor made him contemplate what it might be.

  Her eyes dropped to the photo again. “You and your father look so much alike. I see where you got your good looks and charm.” She handed the photograph back to him. “I remember the wound on his face and that he was blind in one eye. How did it happen?”

  “He brought that home with him when he returned from the Great War. Mom and I were so happy he survived, we didn’t care. Dad and his two brothers all served our country, but he was the only one who made it back.” Rock rubbed his thumb across the frame, staring at the image of his father. “Every generation of Laroux men has had at least one serving our country. However many generations back, my great-great-great-grandfather supposedly fought with George Washington and his men in our country’s battle for independence. From then on, there’s always been at least one Laroux from our family enlisted to serve America.”

  “Wow, Rock. That’s incredible, yet not surprising.” She stood and began clearing away their dinner dishes.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked, carrying his plate to the sink.

  “From what I’ve seen, being noble, loyal, and selfless is just part of being a Laroux.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Life settled into a routine for Rock and Miko in the days that followed his first trip to the assembly center. They worked, planned, ate, laughed, and got to know one another.

  One evening, they sat at the kitchen table eating vanilla ice cream they’d churned from the rich cream the cows produced and sugar Rock acquired with ration coupons. A news report interrupted the lively beat of “Chattanooga Choo Choo” and they both stopped, spoons in the air, listening.

  “A battle has raged since this morning at Midway between our boys and the Japanese. The Japs delivered a striking blow to the US base there, but don’t give up hope. Our men are on the job and determined to win the fight.”

  Miko set her spoon back in the bowl of rapidly melting creamy confection and placed her hand on Rock’s left hand as it rested on the table. “I’m so sorry, Rock. Do you have friends there?”

  “Most of my buddies are in the Atlantic, but a few are in the Pacific. It’s always hard to listen to news about our troops heading into battle.”

  Neither of them had any interest in finishing their ice cream, so Miko rinsed the bowls and left Rock in the kitchen, staring at the radio.

  Unable to pull himself away from the reports the next day, Rock found a radio in the barn and got it working. He set it on an old stump someone had carved to resemble a chair and listened to it as he worked in the garden.

  The evening of the third day, he and Miko had just come in from cleaning the last of the bins in the produce stand when he flipped on the radio and listened to a jubilant report of America winning the battle.

  “This is a turning point, folks, a real turning point in the war. We’ve got those Japs on the run,” the reporter said.

  Rock grabbed Miko around the waist and danced her around the kitchen table, then pecked her on the cheek.

  “It’s wonderful news, Rock.” Enthused, she gave him a tight hug, then tried to step back. He held on for the length of several heartbeats before the ringing of the telephone interrupted them.

  At least three times a day, someone called wanting to know if or when the produce stand would open for the season. Miko never answered the phone, but Rock grew weary of repeating the information.

  A week before they planned to open, Miko carried a typewriter into the kitchen and se
t it on the table. “You should send an article to the newspaper about taking over the farm and the produce stand opening. People will want to know, Rock. Granddad has many faithful customers. They’ll be happy to know the produce stand will continue to operate.”

  “That’s a great idea.” He sat down at the table and gave her a long look. “Would it be okay if we give the farm a new name, until your grandfather returns?”

  “You’ll have to give it a new name or we won’t have any customers. No matter how much someone wants Granddad’s strawberries, they won’t buy them from a place with a Japanese name.” Miko rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter and poised her fingers over the keys. “What name do you have in mind?”

  Rock grinned. “I was thinking of calling it Double J Farms. That’s for your middle name and mine.”

  She beamed at him. “That’s perfect.”

  Mesmerized, he watched her long, slender fingers fly over the keys as she wrote an article about the farm being under new ownership, the day they would open, and operating hours for the season.

  When she finished, she pulled the paper from the typewriter and handed it to him.

  “This is great, Miko. You have a talent for writing the details in an interesting, informative manner, not to mention how fast you type. I forgot you spent several years as a secretary.”

  She nodded. “My job gave me plenty of experience in typing and writing articles to submit to the newspaper.”

  Her voice held a wistful note, one Rock hadn’t often heard. For the most part, Miko focused on looking forward instead of dwelling in the past. Her ability to face the unknown future with strength and determination was one of the many things he admired about her.

  “What’s wrong? You sound sad.” He reached out a hand and settled it over hers as it rested on the tabletop.

  “I guess I miss my job a little. Although my employer could sometimes be a little demanding, I enjoyed the work. I always felt like I was contributing something, doing something important. Now…” She shrugged.

  “What about now?” Rock asked, gently lifting her fingers and enfolding her hand in the warmth of his.

  “I don’t feel like I’m doing anything of value, or real purpose.” She rose to her feet and set the typewriter back in its case, then closed the lid.

  Rock stood and lifted her chin with his index finger, forcing her to look at him. “Nothing of value or purpose? What do you call raising enough produce to feed a few hundred people through the winter? That’s something of real value, Miko. Something of far greater purpose than typing letters for some cranky stuffed suit in a big Portland office.”

  The slightest hint of a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. “When you put it like that…” She expelled a satisfied smile. “And I do so love working in the hilltop garden.”

  “Your whole family would agree your presence here is something of value to them. You’re keeping something safe and treasured that your great-grandparents and grandparents worked so hard to build.” Rock tapped the top of the typewriter case with his fingers. “As well as you write, why don’t you type some stories? You know, of your experiences. You could start with getting kicked off the bus and walking home in the rain.”

  She wrinkled her nose, making Rock want to kiss her in the worst way. “No one would want to read that.”

  “Oh, someday people will be interested in stories exactly like that.” Rock shot her a cocky smile. “You could add in about finding a dashing young soldier on your doorstep and nursing him back to health. How he was so overcome with your beauty and charm, he begged you to let him stay.”

  She laughed and playfully pushed against his solid chest. “Go on with you, Captain Laroux. You can work off some of that foolishness in the barn. The faucet out there started leaking this morning.”

  Rock backed toward the door, shaking his finger at her. “You’re a slave-driving woman, without a speck of mercy, Miss Nishimura.”

  “Don’t forget it!” she called after him, grinning.

  A few days later, Rock went to town in her grandfather’s farm truck and returned with three piglets in the back.

  “I like bacon,” he said as Miko helped him settle the pigs into a pen he’d built away from the house and produce stand.

  “They’re so cute,” she said, leaning over to pet one. “I think we should name them Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.”

  The disparaging glance he tossed her went unnoticed. “You do know I plan to eat them, don’t you? More appropriate names would be Ham, Bacon, and Pork Chop.”

  Affronted on behalf of the pigs, Miko glared at him and marched to the barn. Despite his warnings for her not to treat the pigs like pets, she mixed mash with warm milk and fed them every morning, crooning to them.

  He’d even found her reciting the poem after which they were named. Amused, he listened to her enchanting voice before returning to the task of pulling weeds in the garden.

  Petey paid intermittent visits, keeping them updated on Princess Alice and the happenings in his world.

  The produce stand opened and their days fell into a steady pattern of work. She arose before dawn and spent a few hours working in the vegetable garden or picking berries. No matter how early Rock crawled out of bed, she somehow always beat him outside.

  Together, they’d milk Amos and Andy, strain the milk and set some aside to sell, then take the rest into the house. While she cooked breakfast, he gathered the eggs and crated what they wouldn’t use that day.

  After the meal, Miko would straighten the house, wash laundry, bake, or spend time ironing. A few minutes before nine, she’d pack a lunch and head up the hill to the secret garden to spend the day out of sight.

  The produce stand was open Wednesday through Saturday, from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon. Rock hired three high school boys to work the days it was open. They helped him water, weed, and pick the vegetables the garden began producing in abundance. Two high school girls ran the produce stand and flirted with the boys, including Rock.

  Once everyone left for the day, Miko would return to the house and cook dinner, then help Rock with any unfinished chores.

  The time of day they both liked best was when dusk settled. They sat on the porch, sipping glasses of cold juice or tea and listening to the summer serenade of crickets and frogs. Eventually, Miko would rise and take their glasses to the kitchen, bid him good night, and walk up the hill to the house in the garden.

  Loneliness settled over Rock as she disappeared up the trail, making him wish he could accompany her. On the days the produce stand was open, he missed her working beside him. He missed the soothing sound of her voice and seeing her move with grace and confidence in every endeavor. She made him laugh with stories of things she and Sally had done in their youth, and made him think when she’d ask him questions to which he had no answers.

  Although he’d never planned to settle down and live a civilian life, Rock couldn’t imagine anyplace he’d rather be than right there, with the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart.

  He wished she felt the same about him. Despite the challenges a relationship with her presented, Rock would have eagerly faced them all with a smile if she’d hinted that he meant more to her than a friend. For all he knew, she viewed him as the older brother she’d never had.

  Disappointed, Rock worked out his frustrations on the farm. He awoke each day feeling more vitalized than the day before. Strength flowed through him and he relished the hard work as it healed his body and his mind.

  Even his hand, the hand the doctor assured him would never function properly, made slow progress. Although he had trouble bending his fingers, he gained more control over the movements with each passing week.

  Miko not only saved his life, but also gave him a renewed purpose. In the process of helping secure the farm for her family’s future, he discovered how much he’d missed the days he spent working side-by-side with his father on their land.

  Determined to make the farm a prosper
ous place for Shig and Aiko Yamada to return to when they were released, he gave his best effort to each chore.

  Despite the satisfaction he drew from the days he worked, he enjoyed the days of rest even more.

  Sundays, Miko would take her time coming down the hill to help him milk. A leisurely breakfast preceded time spent listening to radio programs on the Philco in the living room. Miko would pack a picnic basket with leftovers and together they’d walk up the hill to the garden. Rock’s favorite place to eat was beneath the shade of a weeping cherry tree near the pool at the base of the waterfall.

  Since Miko couldn’t attend a church service and Rock didn’t want to leave her alone, they took turns reading from the Bible and discussing the verses. For Rock, those Sundays were among the most peaceful and pleasant days he’d ever known.

  Sometimes, he fell asleep to the sound of Miko humming or the water from the stream lulling him to slumber.

  Other times, they would walk around the expansive garden and she’d explain the design of a certain area to him. Through her patient instruction, he learned there were five distinctive areas to the garden.

  Miko referred to the area around the house as the flat garden. Stones, clipped shrubbery, and shaped trees provided a sense of depth. The best view of it, he discovered, was from inside the house, looking out the front between the shoji screens. Rounded azalea shrubs, lacy-leafed maples, weeping cherries, and black pines surrounded a sea of raked rock. The sense of cool water created by the plants and rocks lifted his spirits.

  The second garden area she referred to as the dry garden. According to Miko, Zen Buddhist priests had started the practice of raking gravel or sand around stones to focus on the beauty of bare space. Rock liked the simplicity of the pale sand, carefully swirled by Miko’s rake around several large stones. She informed him the garden wasn’t a place to meditate but to contemplate.