“Hmph!” Aunt Yvonne ate another tiny bite. “Where’s Rainer?” she asked, looking around suddenly.
“Still in bed, I’m willing to bet,” Uncle Charles said, his mouth full as he shoveled in another forkful of pancakes dripping with syrup.
Rosie cooked one more batch, mostly for herself, and joined the family at the table. She thought the pancakes were just right and ate three.
Freddie’s fork clattered on his plate. “I’m done,” he said and looked over his shoulder into the living room.
“Let me clear the table,” Rosie said. “If you help, it will go faster,” she said to Freddie. Freddie sighed loudly and tagged along behind her.
“Darling,” Aunt Yvonne said to Uncle Charles. Rosie knew that was who she was talking to because she had never called her or Freddie darling. “Coffee, please.”
Uncle Charles picked up his plate and Aunt Yvonne’s and carried them into the kitchen. “Thank you,” he said to Rosie as she wiped down the kitchen table and made sure she had put everything away in its place. “That was a wonderful present.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Wait until after we open presents to finish in here. Freddie is about to blow a gasket.”
“I’m glad you’re home today,” Rosie said.
“Just for a while,” Uncle Charles answered. “I’ll go in to work later.”
“On Christmas Day!”
“War doesn’t take holidays,” he replied solemnly.
Rosie had no idea what her uncle even did for work, but she figured it must be important.
“Our parents coming home is the only present I really want,” she admitted quietly.
“Ah, yes. We are working on that and wish we could do more.” Uncle Charles patted her shoulder again. “And Rosie, try to be patient with your aunt. She has very bad memories of what it meant to be German in the last war. She and your mother were left out and cut out by people they considered their friends. Their father’s income suffered because no one wanted to do business with Germans.” Uncle Charles shook his head. “She is worried the same thing will happen again and it will affect me and Rainer.”
It has happened, Rosie thought. It affected her and Freddie and Mama and Papa. Aunt Yvonne was still living her same life. Uncle Charles’s words did explain why Mama had grown so frightened when the bombing started, though—she feared what might be coming again.
“Let me tell you a story Yvonne told me. She and Greta attended a local dance, at one of the other sugar plantations at the beginning of the first war with the Germans. The music started playing and boys asked one girl after another to dance until everyone except your mother and your aunt was on the floor whirling around. The entire evening passed and not one boy asked them to dance. They finally left and Yvonne said they felt humiliated—they were ignored because they were German. After that, until the war was over and the prejudices died down, your aunt, and your mama, too, were very careful where they went and who they associated with.”
Rosie nodded. She wished Mama had talked about those experiences. They might help her understand what was happening now.
“Does that help you understand your aunt better?”
Rosie tried hard to understand Aunt Yvonne’s nervousness, her fears. But she couldn’t figure out why her aunt seemed to take all her bad feelings out on her and Freddie. They must remind her of Mama and the bad times they experienced together.
“Be patient?” Uncle Charles repeated as he poured two cups of coffee, adding milk and sugar to one.
“Sure.” Rosie smiled as she followed her uncle into the living room, trying to think Christmasy thoughts.
Freddie had placed his gift beside him on the sofa and hers on the neighboring cushion. “Here! Rosie, this is yours!” He practically danced with excitement.
“You may open,” Aunt Yvonne said.
Freddie tore the paper off his one present before Rosie could even lift hers.
Freddie held up a pair of pajamas and stared down at the underwear resting in the wrapping paper. He looked at Rosie and she saw tears glistening in his eyes.
“You needed pajamas. Now maybe you won’t keep pulling the blanket off me at night,” she said as she quickly unwrapped her gift, also pajamas and underwear. Rosie felt slightly embarrassed for Uncle Charles to see such personal items of her clothing. But the embarrassment was overwhelmed by disappointment. Pajamas and underwear! Where were the real gifts? She looked around.
“What was Santa thinking?” Freddie said to Rosie.
“Probably that there is a war going on,” Aunt Yvonne said. “You are very fortunate to have these nice gifts. There are some children who have nothing and will receive nothing because of the war.”
Aunt Yvonne certainly knew how to put a damper on holiday cheer. “I think I’ll do the dishes now,” said Rosie, wanting to be alone. She missed her parents more than ever, her chest actually ached with wanting to see them. And she couldn’t stop thinking about those other presents the man had delivered, the ones he had said were from her parents. Would Aunt Yvonne have put the gifts away someplace and not let her and Freddie have them because they weren’t needy enough? Did she donate them to other children? Rosie tried to think of that as a good thing.
In the kitchen, Rosie stared out the window over the sink. The day was clear and bright and the flowers glowed like jewels in the sunlight. She stuck her hands into the warm suds.
“The gifts were from your parents,” Uncle Charles said, startling Rosie, who hadn’t heard him come into the room. “There’s a man, Mr. Smith, who is taking care of properties for those …” Uncle Charles paused, “interned.”
Interned? I-N-T-E-R-N-E-D. Might as well say I-M-P-R-I-S-O-N-E-D. It meant the same thing.
“He went out to your house at your parents’ request, and delivered the gifts to us to give to you.”
“That was nice,” Rosie said. “I guess Mama and Papa didn’t have time to buy anything else.”
“Next year, Rosie. They will make up for it next year,” Uncle Charles said.
She turned to Uncle Charles. “So, this Mr. Smith, how much can he do to Mama and Papa’s property? One day Rainer and I drove by the house and someone, Malia, who used to be a teacher at Mama’s school, was there. She said she had bought the house and was going to open a nursery school. Can Mr. Smith do that? Did he say anything to Aunt Yvonne about our house? About where all our things were? Our furniture? Our clothes? Kitty? Did he say anything about my cat?” Rosie knew the answer since she had been listening from the steps, but if Uncle Charles knew anything, now would be a good time to find out.
Uncle Charles started shaking his head before Rosie finished. “I’m sorry. After he stopped by here and we finally knew who was handling your parents’ property, I gave him a call. He mentioned storage, I think. And he said expenses were mounting and he was trying to find a way to cover them. Taxes, insurance, things you wouldn’t be interested in. He mentioned he might have to liquidate some things but I didn’t interpret that to mean real estate. I’ll check further next week. Promise.” He patted her shoulder again as Rosie hung her head. “What I don’t understand is why Henry didn’t ask me to handle his property.”
Perhaps her parents had tried. Aunt Yvonne always said she had no time for one more thing. Managing property might take some of her precious time.
“I think I’ll wake up Rainer. He’s going to be excited about his gift! A new surfboard. I wish I had time to go to the beach.” Uncle Charles turned to leave, then turned back, “Mele Kalikimaka!” he said.
“Froehliche weihnachten,” Rosie said with a smile.
Uncle Charles frowned and placed a finger over his lips. “No German,” he whispered. “Not in these days.”
Rosie pressed her lips together. She hated feeling ashamed of being German, but it was coming at her from all sides. Enemy alien. Internment. No German.
Uncle Charles left her standing there, her dishwater cooling.
They hadn’t read A Christmas Carol or The Night Before
Christmas or sung even one Christmas carol so far. There was no tree, no lights … no idea what might happen next.
Chapter 22
The day after Christmas, Rainer left early for the beach to try his new surfboard. Freddie asked to go along, but Rainer laughed. “Babies don’t surf!” he said. “And neither do orphans!”
Instead of tearing up, Freddie rammed his head into Rainer’s stomach, slamming the bigger boy backward into a table and knocking a glass bowl to the floor, shattering it.
“What now!” Aunt Yvonne ran down the steps and stood looking at the mess on the floor.
Rosie quickly pushed Freddie behind her. “He didn’t mean to break it. Rainer was teasing him.”
Rainer rubbed his stomach, then doubled over and groaned. “He gave me a head butt, right in the bread basket,” he moaned.
“To your room!” Aunt Yvonne glared at Freddie and pointed upstairs.
Rosie was already on her hands and knees, cleaning the broken glass.
Freddie ran up the steps and Rosie heard the door to their room slam shut. She’d felt like doing the same thing as her brother had to their cousin but had never quite had the nerve. It was almost as much fun to tease him about his girlfriend and whether or not she was going to tell. That was how she’d make him treat her brother a little nicer.
“I have to be gone today. Your uncle wants me to accompany him to a reception at Army headquarters. Hopefully you can keep your brother from destroying anything else,” Aunt Yvonne said.
Army headquarters? Rosie’s ears perked. If only she had the chance to talk to someone in charge!
“Maybe you could ask about our parents?” Rosie sat back on her heels.
“We shall see if it is appropriate,” Aunt Yvonne said and returned upstairs.
A-P-P-R-O-P-R-I-A-T-E. Rosie sat in the hallway, surrounded by shards of glass, without saying a word. Rainer left with his surfboard. His stomach couldn’t be that bad if he was still going surfing, she thought. And she and Freddie would enjoy a day at the beach! But …
Rosie looked toward the back of the house, where she’d seen the mysterious Mr. Smith and Aunt Yvonne disappear with a stack of presents. And yet a much shorter stack—only two presents—had reappeared. As soon as her aunt left, Rosie intended to search for the missing packages, just like Nancy Drew. She smiled to herself.
“I should be back sometime this afternoon,” Aunt Yvonne called from the front door as Rosie threw the remains of the glass bowl in the trash. “Remember what I said!”
A car horn sounded, the front door opened and closed, followed by silence. Rosie relaxed, enjoying being out from under her aunt’s scrutiny for the moment. Then she couldn’t wait any longer. “Freddie!” she called.
Her brother didn’t answer. Rosie called again and when he still didn’t answer, she ran up the stairs to bring him down.
Freddie was sprawled across the bed when she opened the door.
“Hey,” she greeted him.
“Hay is for horses,” he said.
“I may have a surprise,” Rosie continued.
“More pajamas? Or better yet, underwear?” her brother said, still not looking at her.
“Yeah, those were pretty bad presents. But,” Rosie held her secret to herself for a moment longer, then said, “I think there are some more presents from Mama and Papa.”
Freddie lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. “So why didn’t Aunt Yvonne give them to us?”
That was the million dollar question in Rosie’s mind, too. “Don’t know, but why don’t you come and help me find them? Like a treasure hunt!”
Slowly, Freddie rose from the bed. “I guess,” he said.
“Hey, you’re a sourpuss today!”
“Just being like you,” said Freddie.
Was she a sourpuss? Rosie thought of how dark the days had seemed since their parents had left and how slowly they passed. Perhaps she had been a sourpuss and perhaps she should try to fix that.
“A man came one day, and he had packages. We opened two of them yesterday but he had more. He and Aunt Yvonne went to the back of the house.” Rosie led her brother to the kitchen. She looked around.
“Maybe Aunt Yvonne took them to the orphanist,” Freddie said.
Rosie wasn’t willing to give in to that idea yet, that her aunt had donated their gifts, although she considered it possible.
“Don’t give up yet,” said Rosie. “We haven’t even looked.”
Freddie opened each cabinet, one by one. “Nothing there.” He opened the refrigerator. “Yuck!” he said.
Rosie knew what he meant. The sour smell of poi spilled out. Kealani must have left some of her lunch behind. Rosie was no fan of the thick, purple Hawaiian staple although she knew her dislike was considered odd for someone who had lived all her life on the islands.
Freddie slammed the door closed.
“Where else can we look?” Rosie tapped her chin, turning in a circle. “You’ve gone over every inch of this house. Where would be a good place to hide something?”
“The garage?” Freddie said. “We aren’t allowed in the garage.” He leaned close to Rosie and spoke in a low voice. “But I’ve been in there. There’s a loft and cabinets and lots of tools.”
“If I were you, I’d stay out if Aunt Yvonne said not to go in there,” Rosie warned.
“But there might be presents hiding there!” Freddie opened the outside door and stepped through to the garage. Rosie followed.
“I’ll climb up in the loft and see if they are there,” he said, and like a monkey, he was up the wooden rungs nailed into the wall and onto the loft floor before Rosie had a chance to say a word.
“There’s a bicycle! And boxes with baby toys! And boxes with books!” Freddie came to the edge and looked over at Rosie.
The mention of books was all it took for Rosie to climb into the loft. But once up, she also had a bird’s-eye view of most of the garage from above and there the presents were! She recognized the gift wrap, shape, and size of them. Her little brother was a better detective than she was.
“Do you think Aunt Yvonne would let me ride the bike?”
“I don’t know, but I see the presents.” Rosie started to say Mama and Papa had gotten them but remembered her brother still believed in Santa. And he must be very disappointed in the old guy for bringing him clothes. “I think these presents must be from Mama and Papa, or maybe Santa.”
“Let’s go see!” Freddie swung down off the loft, reaching for the wooden ladder. Rosie wasn’t sure what happened but the next thing she knew her brother was on the cement floor, holding on to his arm, crying loudly.
“My arm! My arm!” Freddie sat up slowly and cradled his left arm against his chest.
When Rosie looked down, she saw red oozing out from between her brother’s fingers. “What happened?” she called as she descended, slowly and carefully, and knelt beside Freddie. She could see that something was very wrong.
“Is it just your arm? Do you hurt anywhere else?”
Freddie shook his head. “But my arm … I want Mama!” He cried louder.
Rosie gently pried his hand off his arm and took a quick look at the cut underneath. She looked away, feeling her breakfast churn in her stomach. The skin was laid open and the blood continued to almost pump out.
“Sit here, quietly, while I go find a towel or something to wrap around your arm.” Rosie scrambled up and into the kitchen. She pulled open a drawer and dug out some towels. Who should she call? She had no idea where Aunt Yvonne had gone and Rainer was at the beach. She’d have to go to a neighbor’s house.
Rosie knelt beside Freddie and wrapped a towel around the cut. “What happened?”
“There was something metal, like a sharp knife, and my arm caught on it,” Freddie managed to say as his body heaved with sobs. “It hurts! It hurts!”
“You probably need stitches.” Rosie wanted to hug Freddie but was afraid she’d hurt him even more.
Freddie shook his head. �
��It will hurt! NO!” He cried harder and leaned against Rosie, smearing blood on her dress. “Just put a bandage on it.”
Rosie patted her brother on his back until he settled. Then, the two of them sat quietly as Rosie tried to figure out what she should do next. She thought there might be a doctor who lived nearby.
“I bet Aunt Yvonne will send us to an orphanist for sure now,” Freddie said with a sniff.
“No, shhh! She will be so sad that you are hurt. And we will take good care of you until Mama comes home. Maybe we’ll even make haupia.”
It hadn’t been near long enough for her aunt to be gone, but a car pulled up in the driveway and Rosie heard Aunt Yvonne tell the driver good-bye. She had never felt this glad to see her aunt!
As Aunt Yvonne walked toward the back door, Rosie called to her.
“I thought I told you not to go in the garage,” Aunt Yvonne said, her hands on her hips.
“Freddie’s hurt. I think he needs stitches in his arm,” Rosie said, standing up.
“It hurts! I want my mama! I want Papa!” Freddie began to cry again.
Aunt Yvonne stared at the two of them, her mouth opening and closing with no words coming out. She bent over, her hands on her thighs, and Rosie could hear her gasping for air.
She ran to her aunt’s side. “Are you all right?”
“I can’t take it anymore. Not one more thing. It is too much,” Aunt Yvonne was saying as she straightened and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook.
“Aunt Yvonne …” Rosie began.
“You!” Aunt Yvonne straightened up and turned on Rosie. “You were supposed to watch him. You had your nose stuck in a book again, didn’t you?”
Rosie backed away. She had seen Aunt Yvonne mad, but she had never seen the look she was wearing now.
“I don’t know what to do with the two of you and I … I don’t think I can take it any longer.” Aunt Yvonne turned away.
Rosie returned to her brother’s side. Tears ran silently down his cheeks and she knew he must be in lots of pain. Why couldn’t Aunt Yvonne see it as plainly as she could?
“Aloha!” a bright voice sounded from the driveway. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
Different Days Page 10