As she followed him in, she caught a whiff of booze. It seemed like every time she saw him lately, he’d been drinking.
Luther bumped into the coffee table and dropped onto the couch. “What color do you want it?”
“Whatever color you have on hand. You sure are fast. I appreciate it,” she said.
Paint was hard to come by these days, which was partly why they’d painted the house yellow.
Luther leaned in a little too close. “It may cost you a few ration tickets, since you don’t use the liquor ones, that is.”
“I am happy to pay you with pies or vegetables,” she said, stepping back and letting the implication speak for itself.
Luther crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Fine.”
She suddenly felt like crying. What was wrong with her?
“How’s Ella doing, by the way?” he asked.
Violet hugged herself and blinked away tears. “She was devastated that the Japanese school closed down. But as you can see, Roscoe here is the greatest thing to ever hit this island.”
When she looked out, she noticed Parker had backed up to the screen door. Close enough to hear the conversation.
Luther lowered his voice, but it still carried. “These boys all seem nice enough, but you’ll want to keep your distance. Marines have a reputation.”
Violet placed her hands on her hips and looked at him. “Oh? And what kind of reputation is that?”
“Bad boys, hell-raisers, you name it. I’m afraid they don’t have a lot of respect for women. Which means that having them over with all you young gals might lead to trouble. Nor does it appear proper,” he said.
A voice right next to her caused her to jump. “You know, we’d be happy to help with your pie stand, too, Violet. Marines aren’t all bad. Oh, and I meant to give you this.” Parker said it with a straight face and an even tone, but a vein pulsed in his temple. He held out a small jar full of something yellow.
“What’s this?”
When he placed the jar in her hand, his fingers brushed over hers and squeezed in for the tiniest of moments.
“Chicken salve. How’s she doing?”
“Hanging in there. I’ll let Ella show you later. Thank you for this. Fellas, let’s go back onto the porch, shall we?”
* * *
Jean had outdone herself with a Spanish casserole and roasted fall vegetables—carrots, squash, potato and sun-colored beets. Everyone took their seats but Ella, who had been parked next to Roscoe since his arrival.
“Honey, come on up to the table,” Violet said.
Roscoe sat up now and had his eyes trained on a lizard climbing the post. The tip of his tail twitched. Ella ran her hand along his back, her fingers disappearing beneath his sand-colored coat. Either she hadn’t heard, or was lost in that dark place she retreated to. Sometimes Violet wasn’t sure.
“Ella, we’re eating now. Please join us.”
Zach waved his fork in the air. “You know what happens to kids who don’t eat dinner, don’t you?”
That got her attention and she looked at him. “No?”
He continued. “Well, I’m not sure about here in Honey Cow, but in Waimea town, you might be in danger of blowing away in that wind. You need to keep a little weight on you to stay anchored.”
Irene snorted in laughter. But Ella kept her eyes on the lion.
“Honey Cow?” Violet had to ask.
“No one can remember how to say Honoka’a,” Parker said, butchering the word in the process, “so the boys refer to it as Honey Cow.”
Hono-kah-ah. Irene Ferreira had drilled it into her head soon after her arrival. “Never heard the term, but it doesn’t surprise me. No one can say any of these Hawaiian names properly,” Violet said.
“Honey Cow is a weird name for a town,” Ella said.
“Weird is good, isn’t it?” Parker said.
Ella shrugged.
“Well, we don’t have the same wind down here, but, Ella, if you want to come to Waimea to sell pies with us, you’d better come to the table. Now!” Violet said.
The last thing she wanted was a standoff and she could feel her tolerance stripping away. She held Ella’s gaze and silently counted to five. Ella finally detached herself and came to sit between Violet and Setsuko, folding her hands in her lap. Roscoe watched Ella leave, and stood up, too. He was still tied with a long rope, but sauntered over and stopped behind Ella, rubbing the side of his face against her chair.
“What does he eat?” Setsuko asked.
It was only the second thing Setsuko had said tonight, and the first directed at the soldiers.
“The fellas at Parker Ranch have been good about giving us meat for him. So he’s well fed. No need to worry about your kids,” Parker said.
Ella made a face, as though trying to decide if Parker was for real. “Do you think he could eat a grown-up?”
Almost as a father defending his young, Parker launched into a speech. “Let me set things straight here once and for all. Roscoe is about as dangerous as Snowflake. We’ve had him since he was a tiny cub, and he’s been raised with people. Trust me on this one.” Parker looked over at Roscoe with tenderness. “He knows that we’re talking about him, don’t you, boy?”
The lion moved behind Parker, who reached out and rubbed Roscoe’s ears, jostling him around. Up close, Violet could see that his whiskers were as sturdy as wires. His yawn exposed a set of canines three inches long. Regardless of what Parker believed, he could bite you in half if he had a mind to.
“A playful swat could be deadly,” Violet said.
“He’s gentle. You’ll see,” Parker said.
Irene Ferreira set her beer bottle down a little too hard, shaking the whole table. “Where’s his mane?” she asked.
“The manes don’t usually fill in until they’re two. And Roscoe is only about six months,” Parker said.
Roscoe moved back toward the post and suddenly sprang up, batting his paws in the same way that Snowflake did. The translucent lizard shot up the post toward the ceiling, narrowly escaping. Roscoe kept his eyes glued.
Ella squealed. “He’s so cute! Can we get a lion, Mama?”
Cute was not the issue here. Violet could already see the problems that would arise once the soldiers shipped off and took their lion off to war with them. Ella’s heart would crack to pieces. Again.
* * *
Instead of settling down in front of the radio after dinner, Violet put Ella to bed and returned to find Setsuko waiting on the front step to say goodbye. In the last residue of dusk, the outline of her face reminded Violet of her own, after Herman. Strange how vacuous a person could look. But there was more hope for Takeo than Herman. At this point.
She whispered into Setsuko’s hair, “The truth will come out.”
Setsuko squeezed a little harder and took Umi’s and Hiro’s hands. Watching them walk into the shadows, Violet wished she could do more. A chill ran through her.
Back in the living room, Tommy sat with an ukulele in hand and Parker, an old guitar. Jean had lit one small candle, which moths were now dive-bombing.
“I think we should move into the kitchen,” Violet said.
Everyone looked at her as though she had come specifically to spoil the fun, but Parker spoke up. “She’s right. We don’t want to get them arrested.”
In the full light of the kitchen, they all crammed together. Violet was thankful it was a cool night, or they would be roasted alive within minutes. When both men started playing, she would have sworn fingers couldn’t move so fast. The song was a flurry of notes. She recognized it as Spanish, from listening to the paniolo play. Parker might not be able to sing, but he sure could play. Tommy’s heel thumped on the floor in time, adding to the beat. He was the first haole she’d seen on the ukulele.
Zach clapped wildly when they fin
ished, and Violet could tell Irene was itching to dance. Boy, could she swing those hips. Any images Violet had seen of hula girls in grass skirts and coconut tops had been surpassed by the performances she’d seen once arriving in the islands. Women wore colorful skirts and long flowered muumuus and moved in the most elegant ways. Even the men danced their own kind of hula. “You fellas should form a band!” Irene said.
“Tommy, how’d you learn to play the ukulele so quickly?” Violet wanted to know.
Zach answered for him. “Tommy O’Brien, the Irish Hawaiian.”
Tommy just shrugged and kept his fingers moving up the four-stringed neck.
The next song was even bouncier, and Zach decided he wouldn’t be left out this time. He stood and began stomping his foot and waving his arms around like a mad elephant. Parker called out a few words in Spanish and Irene clapped in time. Zach plucked Irene from her chair and twirled her around. His hands got stuck in her hair and he nearly brought her down. Between the bunch of them, Violet couldn’t help but laugh. Zach was all elbows and knees, but once Irene took over the dance, they smoothed out.
The feeling of despair that often came around at this time of night was no place to be seen. Maybe that was the way of life, to fold moments of color back into your everyday living, little by little so you barely knew it was happening. Violet closed her eyes.
At that same moment, a roar like nothing she’d ever heard before filled up the entire house, most likely bouncing off the moon, it was so loud. The vibrations caused a fullness through her whole body. Both men stopped playing midsong.
“You think they heard that out on the ships?” Parker asked.
Tommy fanned his face with his free hand. “Imagine being out in the jungle on some faraway island at night and hearing that. I’d swim back here to Hawaii before facing such an animal,” he said.
Parker had slipped out and returned with Roscoe, who looked at each of them with lazy eyes. Try to top that, Violet could almost hear him thinking.
After another round of songs, Parker gave Zach his guitar. Zach was passable, but he couldn’t pick. Parker held out his hand. Violet turned around to see whom he was reaching for. But Jean and Irene were planted in their chairs. Her pulse drowned out the music.
With no choice but to join him, she stood. The music slowed and Parker placed his other hand on her waist. All she wanted to do was fade into the night. He pulled her in, then spun her out, and her hand hit the icebox.
“Sorry,” he mouthed.
Her dance moves were limited to a simple waltz or fox-trot, and whatever he was trying to get her to do didn’t seem to be working. She stepped on his feet and bumped into him on more than one occasion. The next time he pulled her in close, he whispered, “Relax, and follow me.”
That only turned her anger on. “I’m trying, Sergeant.”
Parker let her out again and pulled her in even tighter on the next go-around. “I like how you call me Sergeant when you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset!”
She saw a hint of a smile in the corner of his eyes. Tonight they looked more lake blue than silver. His hand on her waist sent heat through her skin, roasting up her entire midsection. Or was that her imagination?
Nothing she did made any difference, but Parker did not give up. By the end, Violet had to admit that he made an excellent dance partner, one with an extra helping of patience. She was, in all probability, the worst partner he’d ever had.
They sat. “I’m better off watching,” she said, dabbing her brow with a towel.
Once again, he was sitting too close. “Give it time. No one ever got any better by just watching.”
She crossed her arms. “Fine.” He had an answer for everything.
Roscoe, who sat below Parker’s chair, rumbled again, and Parker reached down and stroked him. “He likes to be included.”
Next, Jean and Irene performed a hula to a song that only Tommy could play. Irene was more practiced, but Jean’s red fingernails stood out, adding flair to her wavy hand motions. Violet decided they made a nice team, chocolate and vanilla.
Above the music, from somewhere down the road, came a slurred holler. “Quiet down! Any Japanese submarine passing by is going to hear that racket. You’re going to get us all killed.”
Mr. Cody. It could only be. They all looked at each other and tried to suppress their laughter. Zach responded, “Roger that!”
It was getting late, and she wondered if Ella was sleeping through this. “It’s probably time to turn in,” she said.
The truth of the matter was, Violet was having a wonderful time. Despite Parker. The men led Roscoe out and said their goodbyes, and when Parker leaned in to kiss her cheek, he whispered, “I bet you’ll change your mind.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but he had already turned to go. Change my mind about what?
Chapter Fourteen
Ella
I have decided that I can trust Zach and his gang. Anyone who keeps a lion for a pet can’t be half-bad. I can’t say for sure that I like all of the soldiers, though, especially the mean and unreasonable ones that took Takeo away. It seems like you should have a good reason for taking someone to camp, but they couldn’t answer any of Takeo’s questions. Which makes me wonder how bright they were, or fair. But Jean says they are here to protect us, so who knows.
I thought I would be scared to touch Roscoe at school when I first saw him, but anyone could see that he was no different from one of us. Just an oversize cat who wanted to be noticed and loved. When Zach lifted me up onto the hood of the jeep and Roscoe looked at me, I swear he looked right into me. His eyes were bronze-colored and the way his mouth curved up made it seem like he was smiling.
The first thing I did was reach out and feel him. I couldn’t help it, even though he might have bitten my arm off. Lions are not soft like cats. His fur felt bristly and slightly oiled. The men didn’t seem concerned; in fact, they encouraged us to pet him. Roscoe tilted his head and nudged my hand.
“Does he have a purr box?” I asked.
Zach gave me a funny look. “Lions don’t purr. But, boy, can this one roar.”
I knew at that very moment that a lion was what I needed most in my life. For many reasons. I could picture him sleeping with me in bed with his polka-dot belly. I would wake up and all those internal things that troubled me would be erased. I could also bring him to school and people would be nice and want to be my friend. Or in the forest he could protect me while I search for caterpillars. I used to spend a lot of time in the forest. Takeo called it forest-bathing. Shinrin-yoku. It’s supposed to be healthy. Now I’m too scared.
Most important, a lion might be able to take care of my problem, once and for all. Then life could go on like before.
Meeting Roscoe at school made me happy. But it also made me sad. It made me miss my papa and wish he could have been there to see a real live lion. In the past, whenever we had any kind of assembly or field day, you would see him a head above most of the other people, like the tallest tree in the forest. The funny thing was, just before I would notice him, a tickle ran across my skin. I would turn around, and there was Papa, looking right into me. He’d smile and wink and I would feel like the luckiest person in the world. He had nut-brown eyes with dark eyebrows that pinched together in the middle and made him look a little mad. A lot of the kids at school were scared of him. Kind of like Roscoe—he seemed scary, but he wasn’t. In fact, he took care of everyone and treated all the kids like his own.
Here’s a good example. This was one of those days that stick in your head, and when you look back on it, you remember every tiny detail. Papa and I sat at the table sorting lilikoi for the butter we were going to make later in the day when the phone rang. Mama picked up and handed it over, mouthing, “It’s the sheriff.”
In about two seconds, Papa’s face went baby-powder white. He gr
oaned and nodded and ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. He looked sick. Mama and I shared worried glances.
He hung up and jumped to his feet. “Japanese planes are bombing Pearl Harbor and Oahu. We need to get to someplace safe.”
That was the beginning.
But before we ran off, he knelt in front of the radio and fiddled with the controls for some time before a staticky voice came through from KGU... “We have witnessed this morning the severe bombing of Pearl Harbor by enemy planes, the Japanese. The city of Honolulu has also been attacked and severe damage has been done. It is no joke. It is a real war. The public of Honolulu has been advised to keep in their homes...” A telephone operator interrupted to make an emergency call.
Papa stood up completely straight and turned around to look at us. His face had turned from white to gray, and you could see the fear wrapping around him.
“I’m going to make sure nothing happens to us,” he said.
But I wondered.
We rounded up cans of sardines and Saloon Pilot crackers, filled jars with water and ran across the field to the mouth of the closest bomb shelter, a lava tube in the gulch next to our school. Papa herded us inside, and then went to find the other people on campus. We were left alone with an old lantern that barely lit up the damp walls pressing in around us. I squeezed Mama’s hand.
“Are there rats in here?” I asked, not really wanting an answer.
“Sweetie, don’t worry about rats. It’s safer in here than it is out there for the time being.”
Rats were not to be taken lightly, almost as much as bombs, since they had been spreading the plague to plantation workers in our area. Only last year, Dickie Ramos woke with a fever on a Saturday and was dead by Tuesday.
Mama was pretending to be calm, but her voice had a waver to it. I heard her tell Mrs. Hicks when she came in, “How could this have happened with no warning whatsoever? It’s no secret that the Territory of Hawaii is a strategic location, but an unannounced military strike?”
Island of Sweet Pies and Soldiers Page 9