***
By the time the Sawyers arrived home with Ruby and Hope, I’d been through both beers, and another for good measure, and a couple of possible scenarios of where we could go and how we might get there. The closest, and maybe easiest place to go, would be Mexico. That was my first option. But we could also go back to California. The location was less important than putting distance between us and Father, and making sure he could never track us down again.
Ruby carried Hope up to her bedroom and laid her down for a nap. I followed and gave Hope a kiss on the forehead. Then I took Ruby’s hand and led her into our bedroom across the hall. She sat down on the edge of the bed, surprisingly calm.
“That was my father,” I started.
“Yes, I thought so.” She glanced at the folder I’d brought upstairs with me. “Did he give you that?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. He’s here, and he’s staying at the Shamrock for a few days. We have to get out of here. There’s no telling what he’ll do if he sees you.” I tossed the folder onto the bedside table and began pacing the tiny room.
“Do you think he did?” she asked.
“No. Well, he didn’t say anything. And surely he would have if he’d seen you.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to apologize for everything, and to give me that folder. Actually, his assistant did all the talking for him. Father had a stroke a few years ago. Left him unable to talk and in the wheelchair.”
“That’s terrible.”
I stopped pacing and nearly laughed. “Figures you’d feel bad for him. You do remember what he did to you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s the reason you were convicted for a murder you didn’t commit.”
“I know.”
“Well, he’s not the only one to blame for that. You should’ve told the truth from the very beginning instead of trying to protect that colored boy.”
She stood and placed herself in my path. I recognized the fire in her eyes, and knew I was about to catch her wrath. “Are you going to continue to throw that at me every time you’re scared? I know what I did, and I accepted the consequences. And I would do exactly the same thing all over again. The only person in this room who did something wrong was you! If you’d listened to me…if you’d just had faith and some patience—”
“This is my fault? Is that what you’re saying?”
“‘Let’s run away together,’ you said. ‘I don’t care if I never see my family again.’ Those were your words, not mine. This is exactly the life you begged for, exactly the life you created for yourself when you set in motion that whole fiasco with my uncles. I told you it wouldn’t work. That if you sacrificed your faith to be with me, it wouldn’t be worth the cost.”
“Yes, I know!” I said, more loudly than I’d meant to. My heart raced, thumping against my chest, and the room took a dip. “You are all-knowing Ruby, the one who knows best about everything!” Tiny stars flashed in the edges of my vision. “I am so tired of disappointing you! I will never be the man you want me to be!”
“Have you been drinking again?”
“Are you calling me a drunk now? Let’s just add that to my endless list of failures!”
At that, something inside me exploded, shattering my thoughts. I turned away from her, picked up the first thing I could lay my hands on and threw it against the wall. I could barely see now. I heard another crash. And then a scream.
I knew in some tiny corner of my mind I had lost control, and that I had to stop. But I felt so small, and so separate from the body that was destroying the room. At some point I staggered, and my vision cleared enough for me to see the bed. I sat down, my limbs shaking uncontrollably.
Then everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-One
Matthew
January, 1943
Luzon Province, Philippines
By January of ’43, I’d been shoring up our network of spies for months, and was pleased with our progress so far. We’d established a solid line of communication, with security checks and policies to ensure no one ever revealed their true identities. The best intelligence had started to come in from Manila, with reports of the size and routes of Japanese forces, both in the Philippines and throughout the Pacific.
We still weren’t sure if our information was getting to MacArthur, but we kept sending it down to Thatcher, now promoted to Corporal, and his region of control on the southern tip of Bataan. We had runners moving in and out of our headquarters in all directions, like a giant spiderweb. And it was running more smoothly than I had imagined it could.
Harris was still a source of grief. His ambushes along the roads north of Fort Stotsenberg kept the Japanese angry enough to raise the price on our heads. But it also kept some of the pressure off the Porac region. Thus, we were able to thrive virtually undetected. At least for a few months, anyway.
One morning in late February, a messenger arrived from Thatcher. The young man handed me a small note.
Gandy captured. Tortured. Killed.
Locations may be compromised.
Meet at Floridablanca on 27 Feb.
I shared the news with Henry and Diego. I’d met Thatcher at a small barrio several kilometers west of Floridablanca a few times before. I assumed that was where he intended for us to meet again. It was quite a hike, but we could do it in a day if we needed to. First though, I had to decide whether we should relocate.
“Captain, we can be ready to move in two hours,” Diego said. “Just give the order.”
“Yes,” I replied, “That’s probably best, but where’s the best place to move to?”
“Closer to Manila,” Diego said. “Best intelligence comes from there.”
Henry took out his cigarette and looked at Diego like he was nuts. “So, closer to the Japanese? Of course! That makes perfect sense. I mean, we have been making it too difficult for them to catch us.”
Diego was unfazed. “Captain, Japanese are all over the island. No matter which direction we move, we will be closer to them.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I said. “Then it’s settled. We’ll move south. Diego, put together a scout squad to find a good spot for us. Henry, give the order to the other Lieutenants to start packing up. I want to be out of here in hours, not days. As soon as we establish a new headquarters, I’ll go to Floridablanca to meet with Thatcher.”
“Sí, Captain,” Diego said, turning and leaving the hut.
Henry grinned. “Sí, Captain.” He gave me a salute and left as well.
By nightfall, we’d established a new headquarters about three kilometers south of our old location. By doing so, we’d actually cut my travel to Floridablanca a bit. As the men went about building the bamboo and nipa huts, Diego organized a small squad to travel with us. With some hesitation, I left Henry in charge of finishing the camp construction.
We arrived at the barrio the following morning, having slept only a couple of hours the night before. Corporal Thatcher hadn’t arrived yet, so I took the opportunity to find a secluded spot at the small creek nearby for a bath. Although, it wasn’t entirely private. Diego insisted on keeping watch over me every minute of the day, but at least he turned his back while I bathed.
When I returned, Thatcher had arrived with his squad. He was even thinner and more haggard than when I’d seen him months before near Mount Arayat. I had to wonder if I too was showing the same wear and tear. With the generous hospitality of the barrio’s chief, we went into his hut and sat down. After some of the local women gave us some meat I couldn’t identify and small cups filled with drinks that stank to high heaven, we were finally alone.
“We took a big hit by losing Major Gandy,” Thatcher said.
“He was a good man. It’s a shame.” I had no desire to hear the details of his torture at the hands of the Japanese, so I moved on quickly. “Who do you think will replace him?”
“You,
” Thatcher said.
“Me? No. Who was his second in command?”
“You were.”
“No. In his headquarters. Who was second?”
Thatcher leaned forward and almost smiled. “Listen, the fact that you don’t want the job probably means you’re the best person for it.” He took a sip of the awful-smelling drink and wrinkled his nose. “Besides, you’re the next highest ranking officer in the entire area as far as I know.” He set down his cup and his expression sobered. “And most of his men were captured or killed anyway.”
“Perfect.”
Thatcher leaned over and tried the meat. Deciding it tasted better than the drink, he grabbed a handful and shoved it into his mouth. Once he’d finished swallowing, he smiled at me. “Can’t afford to be picky out here. Better get some food in your system while you can.”
There was no arguing with that. So I wolfed down the mystery meat as well. When we’d finished all the food and forced down a bit of drink, we turned back to business. “Doesn’t someone need to make this official if I’m taking over?” I asked.
“Already done. I hereby promote you to Major.”
“You don’t have the authority to do that.”
“Who’s around to complain or dispute it?”
“Good point,” I said, laughing in spite of myself. “Maybe I’ll get a raise.”
We had a good chuckle and then set about planning the next phase of our operation. We both agreed I needed to re-establish communication with the various cadres across Luzon. This would involve a lengthy journey across many kilometers of jungle and mountain terrain. We mapped out the locations we knew of, and Thatcher agreed to visit the cadres closest to his location in the Bataan region, while I would visit the cadres around the central region of Luzon. It was a trip that could take months to complete, but it was necessary if we were going to maintain control of our growing force.
As we were coming to the end of our discussion, a rush of people into the hut interrupted us. Thatcher and I jumped up as the chief and Diego flew over to us. “Captain, we must go now!” Diego said. “Japanese coming.”
The chief spoke rapid Spanish to Diego, who then translated. “He says they will search his hut. You must get to a safe place. We will follow him.”
We ran out after the chief to the outer ring of huts. He pointed to one of them, again spewing Spanish at Diego. “He says to get into this hut and stay quiet, no matter what happens.”
We piled into the hut, Thatcher, Diego, our two squads, and myself, all nine of us. We stood shoulder to shoulder, with Diego in front, and the rest of the men surrounding Thatcher and me. Every one of us had his gun at the ready, and I prayed we weren’t in for a bloodbath. Through the slats in the bamboo, I could see the people of the barrio scurrying off to hide.
Within moments, a Japanese patrol entered the barrio opposite from our position. They marched to the center of the barrio and the leader of the patrol barked orders. I immediately recognized Kojima’s voice.
“Dis barrio giving help to Americans!” he yelled, waving around what looked like a swagger stick that had been sharpened on the end. “All men and women to come outside!”
The Filipinos moved uncertainly, huddled in groups. It wasn’t fast enough for Kojima. He whipped the swagger stick down onto the back of the nearest Filipino, a woman who hadn’t moved yet. She lurched forward, screaming. This only seemed to enrage Kojima. He brought the stick down on her five more times. My heart thundered, and everything within me wanted to give that animal just what he deserved.
He yelled something in Japanese, and three of his men jumped out of line, came over and scooped the woman up. They dragged her into the nearest hut and disappeared. Kojima continued shouting, now in English. “Ahr people in barrio rine up here!” He dragged the swagger stick across the ground. His soldiers went through the huts nearby, chasing any stragglers into the center of the barrio. The Filipinos formed a line where he’d indicated, many of them women holding their young children. My stomach churned, knowing there was nothing I could do to help these people.
Kojima yelled out more commands in Japanese, and two of his men from the back of the formation brought someone forward whose head was covered in a burlap sack with small holes cut out for the eyes. All I could tell was that it was a male.
“Now,” Kojima continued. “Whoever dis man point to must come wid us for questions.” He turned to the man in the sack. “Now! Who is helping Americans?”
The man stood there for a few seconds, unmoving. Kojima walked over and stood beside him. “Again! Who is helping Americans?”
When the man didn’t respond immediately, Kojima brought his wrath down on the man’s head and back, sending him to his knees. When he ran out of energy, the man remained on his knees, his head drooped forward.
“Get up!” Kojima yelled. “Who help Americans?”
The man pushed himself back to his feet. He brought his arm up and pointed to a young man across from him. Kojima ordered him to step forward.
“Who else help Americans?” Kojima demanded again.
The man moved his arm slowly, pointing out another young man. This process continued for several minutes. Anytime the man wearing the sack tried to stop, he was beaten again. When ten people had been pointed out, Kojima seemed to be satisfied. Those unfortunate souls were rounded up, tied together with the man who’d identified them, and placed at the back of the patrol formation. He barked another order in Japanese, and the three soldiers who’d taken the woman into the hut reappeared. She didn’t follow.
Kojima made a final speech to the barrio as he marched back and forth, proclaiming how fortunate the rest of them were to live under the care of the Japanese Empire. He warned them of the evil Americans who would make them slaves and eat their children. Then he told them that if any Americans came to the barrio, they were to report it immediately or face harsh punishment for the good of their people.
Finally, he gave the order to march, and the patrol left the way they’d come. The people of the barrio stood frozen in shock for several minutes, watching their loved ones get carted off. Several of the men inside the hut with me began mumbling curses in Spanish, but we didn’t dare leave the hut until the chief himself came to let us out.
I glanced over at Thatcher, who shook his head in disgust. “Well, at least none of them gave us up,” he said.
“Doesn’t say much for the guy with the sack on his head,” I said.
Diego looked over his shoulder at me. “Captain, he has no choice. Japanese will kill his family if he does not do as they wish. He points at the strongest, in the hopes they can survive Japanese interrogation.”
Everyone in the hut fell silent. My sorrow for the Filipino people swelled as I thought of all the sacrifices they continuously made to help us. I remembered the family on Mindanao, whose father was slaughtered as I lay in the boat off shore. They’d never even hinted at my presence.
Lord, I thank you for giving these people such courage, and yet I can’t help but wonder why they’re made to suffer. How long will You allow this to go on? Where are You in the midst of this hell?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ruby
August 12, 1945
Houston, Texas
Momma, can I sit in your lap?” Hope looked up at me with large, frightened eyes as she gripped Velveteen.
“Of course.” I pulled her into my lap, keeping my ears trained on the doctor and nurses in the room just behind where we sat. The hospital hallway was mostly empty, so I could hear them discussing Matthew’s vital signs. I slipped my arms under Hope’s, pulling her tight against my chest. For the hundredth time in the past couple of hours, I prayed for Matthew to be all right.
“Momma, does your head hurt?” Hope turned her face to me and brought a tiny hand up to the bandage on my forehead above my right eye.
“No, sweetie. I’m fine. It’s just a little cut.” I glanced at Mrs. Sawyer seated beside me. Her eyebrows lifted, but she said nothing.
“Is Daddy all wight?”
“I think so.”
“Can we go home now?”
“Not yet.”
“I want Skin Horse.”
Mr. Sawyer, seated across from us, leaned forward. “Why don’t we take her home? We’ll feed her, read with her, and get her ready for bed. You can stay here and keep an eye on things as long as you need to.”
I lowered my head and spoke into Hope’s ear. “Would you like to go home with Grandma and Grandpa while I stay with Daddy?”
“Yes ma’am,” she said, nodding. She slid off my lap and went to Mr. Sawyer. He stood and picked her up.
“Come on, Margaret. Let’s get Hope home.”
Mrs. Sawyer let out a deep sigh and turned to me. “At some point, Grace, you need to explain to us what’s actually going on. I don’t want to stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but I think…” She looked up at Mr. Sawyer. “We think, for everyone’s safety, Matthew needs to get help.”
Mr. Sawyer cleared his throat. “I’ll just take Hope and get the car.”
“I’ll be along in a few minutes,” Mrs. Sawyer said.
When Hope and Mr. Sawyer were out of earshot, she continued. “I know you love Matthew, and you want to take care of him, but—”
“Mrs. Sawyer,” I interrupted, placing my hand over hers on the armrest. “I know you care about me and my family. Thank you. You mean the world to me. And I understand you’re concerned about Matthew. I am too. I don’t intend to just sit back and let things continue as they have. You’re right. He needs help. The kind of help he can’t get from me. But we have many issues all jumbled into one big mess right now, and I’m not sure which thread to begin with to unwind it all. I just need to think things through and spend some time in prayer.”
She tilted her head and gave me a sad smile. “Like I said, I don’t want to interfere, but I want you to know you can depend on us for support. We can even take care of Hope for a while if you need us to. Just know that we’re here, and that we love you.”
Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 22