Different Days

by Vicki Berger Erwin

  Mama broke the silence by asking Rosie to fill milk bottles with water, “just in case.” Rosie hurried down the stairs to the kitchen, glad to have something to do. When she heard the knock on the door, she flung it open without a thought just as Papa called out for her to wait and let him answer it.

  “Helloooo my nearest and dearest neighbor,” Auntie Palu greeted Rosie as she stepped inside the house. Leilani stood behind her mother, arms crossed and frowning.

  “Auntie Palu! Leilani!” Rosie answered. The woman was dressed in her normal brightly colored muumuu. The dress and Auntie’s smile brightened the room, which had taken on the gloom of the overhanging smoke clouds. Leilani held back, remaining silent, which gave Rosie a prick of worry. Before she could ask what the matter was, Auntie Palu spoke again.

  “Where is your mama? Is everyone here all right? I brought you a bowl of haupia. I know it is your favorite,” she said in her singsong voice.

  Rosie took the wooden bowl the woman held out and stood back as her neighbor walked past, calling for Mama.

  “Auntie!” Mama said from midway down the stairs. Papa stood directly above her. “You startled us!”

  “Ah, you think maybe the Japs will knock on the door before they come inside?” Auntie Palu laughed loudly.

  “We weren’t expecting anyone on such a day,” Mama replied, her cheeks turning pink.

  “But we must go on,” Auntie said. “My boys, they go to the town to see what is happening there, and me, I don’t want to think about it. Come, let us quilt and let our spirit animals lead us to peace.”

  Mama and Papa looked at each other as Auntie Palu joined them on the stairs, and then stepped aside as she led the way to the second-floor living room.

  Leilani remained in the doorway, staring at the floor, refusing to meet Rosie’s eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Rosie asked, concerned. “Are you worried about your brothers?”

  “I’m fine,” Leilani said abruptly as she finally made her way up the stairs.

  Rosie quickly set the creamy coconut pudding in the refrigerator and hurried to join everyone upstairs.

  Leilani stood away from the adults, staring out the window.

  Rosie joined her. “Want to go to my room?”

  Leilani shook her head.

  Rosie grew more worried. What was the matter with her friend? “We could look at the list of spelling words George brought me.” Her aunt’s boyfriend worked for the newspaper that sponsored the All-Hawaii spelling bee, and he had brought her a copy of the official guide book.

  “You mean your cheat sheet?” Leilani said.

  “It’s not cheating! Anyone who wants to go pick up the guide at the newspaper can have one,” Rosie said quickly.

  “But, you are the only one who does have one,” Leilani said.

  “But … but … we both won.” Rosie was at a loss. The two of them were declared co-champions when they exhausted the list of words provided by the spelling bee organizers. They both would proceed to the All-Island round.

  “Did we?” Leilani grabbed a newspaper lying on the floor. She folded it open and held it in front of Rosie.

  “Yes! I forgot to show you this,” Auntie Palu said, grabbing the newspaper before Rosie had a chance to see what Leilani was trying to show her. She spread it so Mama and Papa could see.

  “Isn’t that lovely?” Mama said, smiling at Rosie.

  “You look like a princess,” said Papa.

  Papa and his princesses! Rosie was tired of hearing it but she still couldn’t bring herself to ask Papa to stop.

  Rosie leaned over Auntie’s shoulder. The headline read: CAN YOU SPELL W-I-N-N-E-R-S?” And Rosie remembered that a photographer had caught her in the library after school when she was returning books. She had taken Rosie’s picture and asked her a few questions, but she hadn’t said anything about publishing it in the newspaper. And why didn’t they take Leilani’s picture? There were pictures of winners from all over Oahu. Then Rosie remembered. Leilani had left early on Friday because she had a headache. If only she and Papa had looked at the rest of the paper instead of just the funnies, she would have seen the photo of only herself.

  “That happened on Friday after you left school,” Rosie said, “and look, it says, ‘Not Pictured: Leilani Palu, who will also be competing in the finals.’”

  Rosie imagined how slighted Leilani must feel. She had been so proud of winning the spelling bee because she had always excelled in sports but not in schoolwork. After all, she had to compete with big brothers.

  “Who is going to read that small print? And, when did you decide to go to Punahou School next year? You haven’t mentioned that to me!” Leilani blinked rapidly and a tear rolled slowly down one cheek.

  “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, but the Punahou thing,” Rosie looked to Mama for help, “that just happened. We visited one weekend and they invited me to apply. I don’t know if I’m going or not. I still have to be accepted. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew something for sure.”

  Mama had given a talk about storytelling to the teachers at Punahou School and Rosie had tagged along. After the talk, one of the teachers had offered to give them a tour of the private academy. Rosie knew as soon as she’d seen all the school had to offer that it was the place for her.

  “You will be,” Leilani said, “after all, your family is Kamaaina.”

  “Leilani, you should not take that tone with your friend!” Auntie Palu broke in. “And Rosie may be part of a well-known, respected family in the islands, but your family has been here even longer. I told you, both of you would be welcome at Punahou.”

  “I doubt it,” Leilani said under her breath.

  Rosie wondered how she could make things right with her friend. She tried again. “I have some books for you,” Rosie said to Leilani. “Nancy Drew!”

  “You girls and your mysteries!” Auntie Palu said with a laugh. “You may want to take a few pointers from that detective girl and keep your eyes open for spies and saboteurs right here in Hawaii.”

  Before she could even think of what she was saying, the letters burst out of Rosie, “S-A-B-O-T-E-U-R.”

  “See, Mama, I told you. She … she … she thinks she knows everything,” Leilani burst out and ran down the stairs.

  Rosie heard the door slam.

  For once, Auntie seemed speechless. Her mouth opened and shut. She pressed her lips together.

  “Auntie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about the picture. I’m sorry.” Rosie blinked back tears.

  Auntie Palu put her arm around Rosie. “This will pass. It has been a very bad day. Leilani was upset about the photo before the bombs started falling, then her brothers went away saying they were going after Japs. I think she is all mixed up. Be patient, lovey,” Auntie said, “save yourself for the big battles.”

  Then Auntie dropped her own bombshell. “And as far as the spelling bee goes, no school for a while, meaning no spelling contest.”

  “What?” Rosie pulled away from Auntie. She turned to Mama. “But my papers for Punahou! The recommendations, the grades, they are due with my application next Wednesday!”

  “Liebling, no school. Punahou will be closed as well,” Mama assured her.

  Hope sparked. “You think? You sure?”

  Mama nodded.

  But still, no school? Rosie had been wondering how her other friends—Mollie, Norma, Veronica—and their families had fared during the bombing. Norma and Veronica both had dads who were in the military. Many of the kids in her class had family in the armed services. And Rosie knew, from the number of bombs dropped and the explosions she had seen firsthand, that people had died. And here she was worrying about a spelling contest and a school application.

  “And Mama, what about the kinder?” Rosie asked. “Will we open for them?” Her mother ran a kindergarten on the first floor of their home during the week for young children whose parents worked.

  “We’ll have to see if businesses are open, if the mutt
ers and vaters need us,” Mama said with a shrug.

  Auntie picked a different newspaper out of the basket she had brought along and opened to another story. “No school and no lights! How can we read? How can we sew? How can we even cook with no lights?”

  “It will all need to be done before dark. Or the windows will need to be covered,” Papa said.

  “Blackout, hmph!” Auntie continued. “They found us once. They will find us again.”

  The room grew quiet. Rosie tried not to think about the possibility of … again. No matter what Mama had said, next time they might not bomb just the ships and planes and soldiers.

  “Speaking of the blackout, I think it will soon turn dark. Shall I walk you home?” Papa asked Auntie, standing up.

  Auntie Palu looked at him, surprised. “No,” she said. “I am capable of making my own way.” She carefully folded her very complicated and beautiful blue and white quilt square and put it back in her sewing basket. “And I should check on Leilani.”

  “Thank you,” Mama said. “I needed a good dose of you to clear my mind.” She hugged Auntie. Rosie lined up to give her own hug to the woman and Freddie followed suit. The newspaper remained, crumpled, on the floor by the chair where Auntie had dropped it.

  “I need a surfing lesson,” said Freddie, holding on to Auntie’s middle.

  “Next Sunday, dear one,” she replied, then in a whisper added, “next Sunday.”

  As soon as she heard the door shut, Rosie picked up the newspaper that lay where Auntie had dropped it. 3RD EXTRA the masthead proclaimed. That must mean there were two earlier extra editions printed before this one. She wished she could see them, too, but this would have to do. She skimmed the headlines:

  MARTIAL LAW DECLARED;

  DEATHS ARE MOUNTING

  OVER 400 KILLED HERE;

  JAPAN ANNOUNCES “WAR”

  Japanese Raids On Guam, Panama Are Reported

  Oahu Blackout Tonight; Fleet Here Moves Out to Sea

  As Rosie skimmed through the paper, she read that some civilians, in addition to military, had been wounded or killed by both bombs and machine gun fire. While she and Freddie had fooled around outside like little kids, they’d been in more danger than she had imagined.

  “Rosie, what are you doing?” Mama asked, looking up from her quilting.

  “Reading the paper,” Rosie said from behind the pages.

  Papa took the paper out of her hands and folded it closed. “You do not need to read all that bad news.”

  “Please,” she said. “I want to know what’s happening.”

  Papa shook his head and stuck the paper between the cushions of his chair. “All you need to know is no school tomorrow and no lights on tonight.”

  “But …”

  “No more newspaper. It’s enough to give you nightmares. It’s enough to give me nightmares.” Papa stared out the window beside his chair. “Go help your mama with dinner.”

  The last thing Rosie cared to think about was food, but standing beside Mama in the kitchen, setting the table, and joining her singing some of the silly songs Mama sang with the little ones did make her feel better. When Freddie came in and joined them, making up his own song about a little airplane instead of a little teapot—“Here is my nose cone, here are my wings,” she and Mama laughed. Rosie thought it was the first time since she had read the funnies with Papa before the bombing started, many hours ago, that she had anything to laugh about.

  Chapter 3

  Light faded quickly as they ate dinner. Papa kept reminding them that they would have to spend the evening in the dark and to do what needed to be done while they could still see.

  Rosie didn’t know what they would do except go to bed if the house had to be dark. They couldn’t even listen to their regular radio programs because the stations were still static.

  Before she went upstairs to bed, Rosie checked outside to see if Kitty had returned. The cat sat on the top step of the porch and when the door opened, ran upstairs. Rosie followed Kitty straight to her bedroom where the cat crawled under the covers.

  As Rosie dressed for bed, she found the quiet disturbing. The streets were too quiet after the noise of the day, especially with no cars driving by, and the neighborhood was darker than she’d ever seen it. The newspaper, the little she had read, had reported that any visible sliver of light would be immediately shot out. Rosie listened, but heard nothing that sounded like gunfire. Everyone must be following directions.

  When Mama and Papa came in to say good night, Rosie asked, “May I sleep under the Queen’s quilt?” Only on special occasions did Mama allow the first quilt she’d ever made to come down from its place of honor on the wall. Rosie loved that quilt: it told the story of their family in fabric, each piece like the page of a book sewn together in what Auntie called a crazy quilt, different than Hawaiian style. Mama had designed it after she’d viewed one similar on a trip to Iolani Palace, where the kings and queens of Hawaii had lived in Honolulu. That one was sewn by Queen Liliuokalani, the last ruler of Hawaii, and its squares told the story of the islands in the years before they became a US territory. It, too, was called the Queen’s quilt.

  Mama and Papa exchanged looks and Mama finally nodded. Papa disappeared for a moment and came back with the quilt gathered in his arms. When he dropped it over her, Rosie smelled the roses of Mama’s perfume. “And tell me the story,” she said, pulling it tightly about her.

  “Mama! Mama! Who is going to read to me? I can’t sleep if you don’t read to me,” Freddie yelled from his room.

  Rosie stiffened as Mama and Papa both turned toward the hallway. She didn’t want them to leave her alone in the dense darkness. Papa held a flashlight pointed to the floor and that provided a comforting glimmer of light.

  “I’ll go, although how I will read a story in this dark is a mystery to me,” Mama said.

  Papa sat on the edge of Rosie’s bed, and she let herself sink back into the pillows.

  Mama gave Papa a quick kiss on the top of his balding head and headed toward Freddie’s room. Before she reached the doorway, she turned and came back, staring down at Rosie. “I love you, coconut.” She gave Rosie a kiss as well.

  “Me, too,” Rosie said.

  “Try to sleep, liebling. You may need your rest, for tomorrow will be a different day,” Mama said.

  No school for one thing, thought Rosie, war for another. She shivered and drew the quilt more tightly around her.

  “Okay, Papa, start at the beginning, when Mama’s family came to Hawaii.”

  “The sugar business on Kauai …” Papa began.

  “I love Kauai,” Rosie said. “Do you think the war is there yet? It’s not that far from Oahu.”

  “I hope not. I don’t know why the Japanese would want to bomb sugar plantations. Everyone loves sugar! They probably flew right over it,” Papa said.

  “So,” he continued, “the Rauschling family came to Kauai to work on a sugar plantation at the invitation of Sugar King Spreckels himself.”

  Rosie fingered the embroidery depicting a stand of sugar cane against the eight Hawaiian islands.

  “And your mama was born right there in the middle of a sugar cane …” Papa paused and grinned at Rosie.

  “You are teasing. She was not born in a field.” Rosie had heard the story many times and Papa always made the same joke.

  “Ah, I did not say field. A sugar cane plantation in the US territory of Hawaii, making her a citizen of that great country from the day she was born.”

  Rosie moved to the next square, which featured an embroidered outline of Germany. “And your family was still in the old country, making radios.”

  Papa nodded. “I came to the United States to learn to make even better radios and before I leave, I travel to the islands and meet your beautiful mama who was engaged to be married to a sugar prince.”

  “Who was engaged to Aunt Yvonne before Mama caught his eye.”

  “That is correct. I am glad I in turn caught your M
ama’s eye and she chose me over the sugar prince,” Papa said.

  “And when you and Mama married, no one was happy about that, right?”

  “Mama and I were very happy but my family disowned me because I would not return to Germany. And her family told us we were not welcome on the plantation on Kauai because your mama, she broke both your Aunt Yvonne’s and the sugar prince’s heart.

  “So, we moved to Oahu, to Honolulu, the biggest city in all of Hawaii, and we open our own business, a radio business.”

  Rosie touched the picture of the radio sewn on the quilt. “And then I was born.”

  “A radio princess,” Papa said, stroking Rosie’s hair.

  “That was when I was little,” Rosie said. “Maybe I’m too old to be a princess now.”

  “Maybe you think you should be queen?” asked Papa.

  “No, not queen either. I don’t want to be a princess just because you are the king. I want to be something … well, something that I earned.”

  “What shall that be?” Papa asked.

  “I’m still deciding,” Rosie said.

  “Is Freddie still the radio prince?” Papa asked.

  “Until he decides to be something else,” Rosie said.

  “So then the radio prince came along,” Papa said and he continued to tell the story of buying a small house near Diamond Head on the east side of the island, then moving to their present house across the island on the west side of Honolulu after Mama decided to buy a kindergarten and be the teacher she had always dreamed of being. “The sugar prince had never approved of that wish of your mama’s,” he added.

  “Now Mama will have to make a war square,” said Rosie sadly.

  “Ah, liebling.” Papa gathered her into his arms and held her close.

  Mama returned and stood in the doorway. Papa kissed Rosie one last time and joined Mama, putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked away.

  As soon as they were out of sight, she scooted Kitty out from under the covers and the cat curled herself against Rosie’s chest. She tried to take comfort from Kitty’s warmth and purrs, but it was hard to fall asleep. Normally, she would have read as long as she could stay awake, but with no light that bedtime ritual was out. She wished she could write in her journal, but it was too dark. Or was it? There was a moon, though not a full bright one.