Island of Sweet Pies and Soldiers

by Sara Ackerman

  “Why are you doing this?” she eventually blurted out.

  “Driving you ladies home?”

  “That, and more. Coming over, talking to Ella, bringing salves for Brownie.”

  “Does a person need a reason for everything? How about because I like to.”

  Violet knew she was being nitpicky, but for some reason couldn’t stop herself. “For the record, we aren’t a charity case.”

  Parker slowed the jeep. He blew out a big breath and shook his head. “You have no idea, do you, Violet? This might be the last stop any of us have. Being with you all has given us some semblance of home. Of family.”

  His words squeezed her heart. “I just don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

  “Noted.”

  What kind of selfish person was she? Lord, she had spent so much time focused on her own problems that she had completely ignored the bigger picture. As they descended toward Honoka’a, blankets were no longer needed. Before folding hers up, Violet wiped a stream of tears from her cheeks. She tried not to sniffle.

  “I reckon the captain will want to see for himself your swinging door. Aside from that, I believe you’re in the clear. You would make a good spy, though,” Parker said, the lightness returned to his voice.

  “Why is that?”

  “Your eyes are hard to read. All that blue? It distracts.”

  Even though she had sworn not to look, she turned.

  Their eyes met. “Yep. Pure distraction,” he said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ella

  What a scare. I started breathing really fast when they took Mama and her friends away. So much so that Irene had me lie down so she could hold a cold towel on my forehead. My whole body started shaking in fits and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt like a human earthquake.

  “Ella, your mama will be back before you know it.”

  I had already lost my papa. Would God do that to a child? Take both parents? Umi picked up my hand and started singing one of our Japanese songs really loud in my ear. But her face was wet and she was dripping tears on my shoulder. Hiro’s face was unreadable. He probably got that from his dad.

  All I could think was that, somehow, those men had found out about me. But I hadn’t even opened my mouth to a soul, not even the animals, so why were they taking her? And Jean and Setsuko. Maybe because they knew I loved them both, too. This was the dreaded moment I had been trying so hard to prevent, and now I’d gone and gotten them all hauled off to who knew where. We’d never see them again. Then Irene mentioned something about a misunderstanding, that Mama and Jean were sending smoke signals out to the Japanese ships. We all knew they weren’t. That reassured me a little.

  I will tell you this. It wasn’t until Hiro came over with my chicken in his hands that I calmed down. Brownie has this soft cackle that I love. She does it whenever she’s real content. Her very own way of saying that life is good. As soon as she nestled down into my side, her cackle leaked out. It filled me up with a warm sensation.

  I thought about poor Mama and how much she’d been through. Losing Papa, living through war, having a daughter with big problems, and now this. I promised myself that when she came back, I would do my best to be a regular person again. I wasn’t sure I could manage, but I would try.

  At some point, Irene asked us if something was burning. Her eyes got huge and she tore into the kitchen screaming. In all of the turmoil, no one heard the timer.

  Poor woman was almost in tears. “They’re ruined! Oh, kids, I’ll never be invited back.”

  I don’t know much about cooking, but I do know that chocolate is supposed to be brown, not black. Scorched is what Mama would have called the pies. All eight of them.

  “Miss Ferreira, they won’t be mad,” Umi said, waving an apron over their tops to help cool them down.

  But I knew different. Setsuko might not be, because she was the most levelheaded woman alive, but Jean and my mama would be furious. Mama would hide it, but not Jean. I felt bad for Irene, so I nodded in agreement.

  “Let’s just make sure we don’t burn these ones,” Hiro said.

  The other half of the pies were waiting patiently to be put in the oven. Originally they were meant to go into Setsuko’s oven, but that was before the men came. While the next batch cooked, we stayed in the kitchen and Irene checked the pies every minute of the hour. I was getting tired watching her, so I started drawing.

  “So, what do you kids know of Jean’s brother, Zach?” Irene asked us.

  I had no idea what she was getting at. “I know he likes lions. And he’s nice.”

  She laughed. “I mean if he has a family back home. A wife. What’s his story?”

  We all looked at each other and shrugged. Taking history of adults is not what kids do, but Irene must not have known that. She always acts like we are miniature grown-ups.

  “No idea. Why? Do you like him?” I said.

  Tiny spots of pink showed up on her cheeks and she suddenly got bashful, looking everywhere but at us. “I just think he’s nice, is all. Don’t say I asked, okay?”

  Another secret to keep. But this one was easy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Violet

  There was enough blue in the sky to last a lifetime. As if the night before had been one of those dreams you wake from, shake your head and think, That sure seemed real. None of them really wanted to turn around and head back to Waimea, but at Violet’s insistence they decided it would boost morale for the kids. And wasting the pies would be a punishable crime.

  Bleary-eyed, Violet sat pinched between Setsuko, who drove the truck, and Jean. It had taken some persuading to get Setsuko to come.

  “Take Umi and Hiro,” she’d said.

  “Look, you belong on this island. You were born here. And you’re not the only Japanese in Waimea. The Hayashis, Tsugi Kaiama and the whole Kimura family are out there selling away.”

  “But their husbands haven’t been taken away,” Setsuko said.

  “True, but we need to prove to the marines you have nothing to hide.”

  She thought about it for a minute, but that got her.

  Each of them held a box of pies in their lap. A measly start for so many soldiers, but it was all they had. In the back, the three kids all stood against the cab. Now and then, laughter fell in through the window.

  With the sun still low, long shadows fell across the rolling pastures. They passed a single ohia tree whose knotted form was void of leaves or flowers. The tree looked lonely, and got Violet to thinking about loneliness and how it wasn’t something you could outrun. Sitting here with Jean on one side and Setsuko on the other was about the best way to stamp it out.

  Setsuko held in her lap the one chocolate honeycomb pie that survived. Initially, Violet hid it in the icebox to keep for themselves, but in the end they all agreed it would be better off taken to town, sliced up and sold by the piece.

  “We don’t want to deprive the soldiers of this treasure of a pie,” Jean had said.

  Once in town, Setsuko backed the truck up in the tall grass of an empty lot right across from the USO, a red-and-white plantation-style house with an extrawide porch. Nearby, a newspaper kiosk advertised war stories and a Portuguese family on the other side advertised coffee and the world’s best malasada. This looked like the only spot left.

  Thanks to Luther, their stand practically set itself up and looked sharp and professional. With help from the kids, Jean had stenciled in Honey Cow Pies in bright blue, with red stars around the words. Being Saturday, groups of marines milled about. To Violet, it seemed as though they were looking for anything that might take their minds off what they were really here for.

  “Do you think it’s too early for pie?” Ella asked.

  Jean stopped what she was doing. “It is never too early for pie, pumpkin. Maybe
you could help us lure them in?”

  Ella shrank back.

  “All you have to do is sit here next to us, cute as a button, and wave if anyone catches your eye.”

  Violet said, “You’re the one that should be waving.”

  Jean sighed. “I have been. My charms must be waning. Even last night, none of those men so much as looked at me.”

  Setsuko waved a giant horsefly away from the pies. “The men that arrested us?”

  “What other men were there?” Jean asked.

  “You need to learn to differentiate. It would do you a world of good,” Setsuko said, shaking her head.

  Jean turned up her nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that not all men are created equal. Especially ones like Decker and Beckworth. You want to choose the man, not the other way around.”

  Violet could tell from the frown on Jean’s face that the conversation was deteriorating. “Hey, these guys look hungry. How about we offer a sample?”

  A group of young men in khakis ambled over. “You selling real cow pies?” a squat, jovial one said. “Boys, maybe we should get one for Captain Turner. I’d like to see the look on his face.”

  Jean smiled and held out a plate with slivers of honeycomb and chocolate. “Try this. But I’ll warn you...” She looked around as if making sure no one could hear. “One bite and you’re in for it.”

  The man cocked his head. “That right?”

  “You boys will be lined up here next week waiting on our arrival. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She picked up a piece and gently eased it into her mouth, chewing with her eyes closed. “Mmm.”

  You could pretty much count on Jean to turn any situation up a notch. The men all stood there, hanging on every word as if their lives depended on it. A skinny one with freckles stepped forward and picked up a piece. The rest followed.

  Pretty soon, heads bobbed up and down. “How many of those you got?” the spokesman said.

  “Just one.”

  “One? You come here with one pie to sell? Now there’s good business sense.”

  Setsuko stepped in. “We have seven sweet potato pies. Which are even better.”

  They sold half their merchandise before eleven o’clock.

  Before long, Umi and Hiro grew bored and went up the road to the park to play with a group of other kids in the field, but Ella stayed back. There was no way she would miss seeing Roscoe, and she kept her eyes trained on the hard-packed dirt road that came from Camp Tarawa. Business sped up around lunchtime, and they sold slices to go with hamburgers or a plate lunch.

  Word must have spread quickly, because everyone asked about the deadly chocolate honeycomb pie. Speaking of deadly, Jean got the bright idea on the ride home last night to create a special just for Captain Riggs, should he stop in.

  Violet spotted him first. “Here he comes. Flip the sign.”

  Ella reached around and turned the chalkboard from front to back. She noticed for the first time that Captain Riggs walked with a slight limp. When he saw who was behind the stand, he saluted. “Look who it is.”

  “Captain.”

  As he read the words on the board, his caterpillar eyebrows pinched together. “Moonshine Pie.” What might have been a smile showed in the creases around his eyes. “I don’t know whether to arrest you again or buy a piece.”

  “Try it. We baked this one especially for you,” Jean said.

  Riggs grumbled, “Women. I’ve never been able to understand you.”

  “What’s to understand?” Violet said.

  “With men, you know what to expect. With you folk, everything comes out of left field.”

  Violet ran the knife through a chunk of honeycomb. “Living in a camp with twenty-three thousand of them, I imagine you’d start to forget how the other half thinks.”

  “It’s not by choice,” he said.

  “The way I see it, Camp Tarawa is nothing but an oversize boys’ club. A necessary one, but still, it could use some female influence.”

  Jean scooted next to her. “You ask me, the military would be a lot better off run by women.”

  For the first time, Riggs laughed. “Just give me a piece of that moonshine pie. If it works, maybe we’ll have to bring a container full and serve up the Japanese. The Hawaiian stuff is deadly.”

  “In that case, you’d never know, would you?” Violet said in her sweetest voice.

  “I guess I’ll have to take my chances.” He walked away with chocolate smeared across his chin and seeming half as intimidating as he had last night.

  Moonshine pie would do that to a person.

  * * *

  By closing time, they had only half a pie left. Ella leaned against the stand, hugging her folded legs. Disappointment tugged at the corners of her mouth. Violet knew the feeling, for as much as Ella waited for Roscoe, she had been hoping to see the boys.

  Jean leaned down and patted Ella’s knee. “They must be training, sugarplum.”

  What had she really expected? While the regular folk went about their daily lives, these guys were out marching halfway across the island, carrying fifty-pound packs under the pounding sun.

  “Look,” Setsuko said, pointing toward the main intersection.

  A beanpole of a man walked toward them with what could only be a lion at the end of his rope.

  Jean waved madly. “Zach!”

  Ella tore off toward them.

  “Careful, honey. Don’t scare Roscoe. He may not remember you,” Violet called after her.

  Ella stopped far enough away to let the giant cat get used to her again. Zach said something to Ella and handed her the rope.

  “I wonder who’s walking who,” Violet said.

  “My money is on the lion,” Jean said.

  Violet continued to glance toward camp for Parker, but it appeared Zach had come alone. She felt caught in that place of not wanting to admit her feelings. The lie was that she had been waiting for all the boys, when in fact Parker was the one.

  Zach tied Roscoe to the post and hugged everyone in turn. “Glad you’re all still here. But it looks like you’ve sold out?”

  “We saved a half a pie for you. And Tommy and Parker...” Violet said.

  Jean interrupted. “Little brother, I need you to do something for me. I’m worried about my friend Bud that left for Saipan with the Second Division. We keep hearing god-awful accounts of the battle.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Of beaches full of bodies. Can you ask around and see if anyone knows whether he made it?”

  “Friend”? Everyone knew he was more than that, but Violet kept her mouth shut. She sincerely hoped he would find out news to settle Jean.

  Jean continued. “It terrifies me to know that you boys are shipping off to war, too. I’m losing sleep over it. Any news on when you’re to leave or where you’re headed?”

  “Tight lips. But the scuttlebutt is before the end of the year,” Zach said.

  Less than two months away. Far too soon.

  “I’m already a wreck,” Jean said.

  Zach’s face brightened. “Hey, we’re having a steak fry tomorrow down at the beach in Kawaihae. Why don’t you join us, bring the kids?”

  “Oooh! That sounds like fun!” Jean said.

  Violet nodded, though she wasn’t sure. “Say, where are Parker and Tommy today?”

  “Out in the field. One of our amphibian Ducks got hung up on the far end of the beach, collapsed into an underground hole or something like that. But he asked me to get Roscoe here.”

  “We would have had a very sad girl on our hands,” she said, glancing around for Ella.

  Behind the stand, Roscoe had stretched out under a nearby jacaranda tree. Umi, Hiro and Ella sat around him. Ella wiggled a long stick with purple flowers at the end, and he swatted at it, trying to grab on. The n
atural way they all sat there, Roscoe could have been just another family pet, not so different from a cat or a dog. But if Violet wasn’t mistaken, he already looked bigger than that first day at the school.

  Zach ran his hand over his crew cut and looked directly at Violet. “If Parker makes a promise, he’ll move hell and high water to see it through.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Violet

  Every time they wound their way down from Waimea toward the rocky coast of south Kohala, Violet felt a swelling in her chest. The unending blue reminded her of the choice she’d made to leave everything behind in Minnesota. Though everything mainly consisted of a mother with no zest for anything and a dog named Lassie. Looking back, she sometimes wondered if it had been the magnetic pull of the ocean, and not just Herman, that brought her here.

  During summers, Herman would pack up the school truck with cots and coolers and fishing poles, and bring them down for a week. They would collect shells and driftwood. He’d made friends with a family who owned a lava rock house at Puako, where the water was so clear that Violet contemplated drinking it on more than one occasion. Having grown up in a place where people froze to death on a regular basis, the beach seemed too good to be true. As it turned out, it was. They ended up sleeping with their cot legs in bowls of water to keep the scorpions from crawling into their beds. She couldn’t help imagining the sound of insect feet scurrying up the walls and that had kept her up half the night. After that first trip, Violet pulled the cots onto the sand and slept outside.

  Kawaihae was a few coves north of Puako. Only now, the beaches were lined with barbed wire. It hadn’t taken long to persuade Ella to come, since she loved the water, and Jean was always in. Irene Ferreira rode in the back, gushing thanks every three minutes at being included. Violet had been the one who resisted coming. She couldn’t even say why, but suspected it had to do with Parker.