Children of the Promise

by Dean Hughes

  Mary laughed, but Bobbi didn’t. “What did you tell him?” she asked.

  “I just said I’d give you the message. Who is he, anyway?”

  “He’s just a friend of mine. An officer. I should call him and tell him I won’t go.”

  “Hey, no girl ever got that mad at a friend. If you don’t want to go, I will.” Mary was not one of the girls with “a reputation” around the hospital. In fact, she was quite a straight-laced Catholic. But she knew as well as anyone how hard it was to find a nice fellow to go out with—who wasn’t either married or nineteen years old.

  All afternoon Bobbi huffed, and she thought about things she wanted to tell Richard. And then, when he didn’t get there until seven-thirty, she was fuming.

  But when he finally arrived, he stood, officer’s hat in hand, looking repentant—and he smiled. He was wearing his khakis, not his dress whites, but he still looked good in uniform. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, “but you don’t know how close I came to getting stuck on board tonight. You can’t believe how busy we are.”

  “Well . . . as long as you think it was worth the trouble.”

  “Ooooh. You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t get mad at my friends.” She thought of adding, “If you were my boyfriend it might be different,” but she didn’t.

  “There’s a place in town that serves real Hawaiian dinners. Poi and all the rest. I thought it might be fun to try some of the genuine stuff.”

  “Afton and I have eaten Hawaiian food. A lot of it I don’t like.”

  “Oh . . .”

  “But that’s all right.”

  “Uh . . . we also have to take the bus. I couldn’t get a car.”

  “That’s fine.” Bobbi walked out ahead of him.

  But on the bus she was soon regretting her childishness. He talked, in his gentle way, about the ship and how pressured he was, and gradually Bobbi began to get the picture. He was shipping out. She found herself more disappointed than she wanted to be but also less harsh in her judgment. Still, he didn’t admit he was leaving, and he seemed especially careful to stay on neutral subjects. He talked about a letter he had gotten from home. A friend of his from high school had been killed in the invasion of Sicily. “He wasn’t one of my closest friends,” he told Bobbi, “but I played basketball with him. He was a nice enough guy, but he was kind of a big talker, always bragging about what he would do in the war. But he’s not bragging now.”

  “A boy from my neighborhood is missing in action in the Solomons,” Bobbi said. “He’s just a kid. It seems like only the other day he was going on Scout trips with my little brother. Mom says his parents don’t hold out much hope that he’s alive.”

  “Sometimes MIA means that he’s been taken prisoner.”

  “I remember when it only meant Mutual Improvement Association.”

  Richard smiled and nodded. “I wish it still did.”

  Bobbi looked out the window of the bus. It was “boat day,” one of the days when the ocean liners arrived in port from the mainland. Hawaiians turned it into a big celebration, with music and leis for all the new arrivals, even though they were mostly military people now. As the bus passed through the streets of Honolulu, Bobbi could see the crowds down by the beach.

  When the two got off the bus they had a couple of blocks to walk. Bobbi hoped, just a little, that Richard would take her hand or show some little sign of affection. But he didn’t, and it angered her that she couldn’t give up the hope. At the restaurant, after they had ordered, they talked a little but said nothing of any importance. Finally Bobbi couldn’t stand it. “Are you shipping out?” she asked.

  Richard took a long look at her, his eyes full of confusion. “That’s not something I can discuss,” he said. “You know it’s classified information.”

  “But you didn’t say, ‘No, I’ll be around for a while yet.’”

  “No. I didn’t say that.”

  Bobbi let her eyes go shut. “Richard, I can’t do this. I don’t operate this way. I need to know what you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  Bobbi shook her head. She picked up her butter knife. “If I stab you before this night is out, don’t be surprised.”

  “Why?” He tried to laugh.

  “I want to know what’s going on between us—if anything.”

  “Bobbi, it’s hard to talk about that now. Maybe I’ll get back here. Or maybe I’ll see you in Utah, and then . . . you know . . . we could . . .”

  “What? Do you want to see me? Do you want to pursue this, or are you just my old buddy from Utah—someone to kill a few hours with?”

  He didn’t answer. He looked at her for a time, and then he let his eyes drop.

  “Okay. Let me start,” Bobbi said. “I don’t really know you. You only let me see you in little glimpses. But every now and then I get the idea that I could like you very much. I even get the impression that you like me. What I don’t understand is why you keep your guard up all the time.”

  Richard nodded, and he looked at her for a long time, but he still didn’t speak.

  “I take it all back,” Bobbi finally said. “I hate you.”

  “You’re right. It is pleasant to share our feelings.” He smiled.

  “Look . . . I know you’re going into battle, but so what? Everybody is just sort of passing through right now. Nothing is permanent for anyone. That’s simply the reality we have to live with. I don’t agree with what you told me last week. What’s so wrong about leaving some connections behind?”

  Bobbi was out of breath—and very embarrassed. If he had said, immediately, “Oh, Bobbi, you’re right; I’m nuts about you,” she might have been all right. But he said nothing.

  She remained quiet while some slow seconds passed and he continued to avoid her eyes, and then she said, “Say, Richard, what do you think about this weather we’ve been having? And by the way, do you think the Yankees will win the pennant this year without DiMaggio?”

  He finally looked at her. “Bobbi, I can’t do this. I just want to leave things the way they are.”

  “Then why did you call me? Why didn’t you just leave?” Bobbi crossed her arms and stared hard at him, but he looked at her only in glances.

  “I just wanted to see you one more time.”

  “Were you going to say good-bye?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What were you going to tell me?”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  “Do you think that’s fair?”

  “Bobbi, listen to me,” he said, and he leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “Above all, that’s what I’m trying to do. Be fair. I think you actually understand that.”

  Bobbi told herself to give up. She knew what he meant, perhaps, but she didn’t agree. Richard had an outer layer, like armor; maybe there was something under it, but she would never know. She leaned back and tried to seem relaxed. The restaurant was elegant, full of flowers, with one side open onto a garden. Most of the diners were in uniform, and they all seemed happy. In the garden, a little Hawaiian band was playing, and a man was singing “Lovely Hula Hands.” It was like something out of movies Bobbi had seen, but right now she would have given almost anything just to escape the place.

  Richard was still watching her. “Bobbi, I’m sorry,” he said. “It was selfish of me to ask you out tonight. I know that. But I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”

  Bobbi could make no sense of this. “Richard,” she said, “I don’t understand what you’re up to. Everything you say implies that you’re interested in me. Don’t I have a right to know what you have in mind? Do you want to see me when you get back?”

  He sat for a very long time, and Bobbi wondered whether he was ever going to answer. But finally he said, “I do want to see you, Bobbi. I really do. But it’s the getting back I’m not sure about. And I have good reason to feel that way. I think it would be unfair to say anything
more than that.” Those crystal eyes of his had filled with tears, which surprised Bobbi more than anything that had ever happened between them.

  About then the waitress arrived with the food, and Richard was quick to cover his emotion. Bobbi had no idea what to say, what to think. Where was he shipping off to that he was so doubtful about his future? She wanted to disagree with him, to tell him that she could deal with anything better than his silence, but she was sure he wasn’t going to change his mind.

  When the waitress left, Richard talked about the food. Clearly he had decided that he had said enough, and he was returning to small talk. Bobbi tasted the pork and didn’t mind it, but the poi, and especially the taro, almost made her sick; she was not in an emotional state to handle it. She said almost nothing. All of the sentences that came into her head were questions, and clearly he didn’t want her to ask.

  She was actually relieved when she and Richard got on the bus and headed back to the base. She knew that the days ahead would be painfully drab, but she also knew she could change nothing, so she wanted to get away from him and start getting used to life the way it would be now. What hurt more than anything was that she was finally admitting to herself what she had really known for a few weeks now: that she was in love with him.

  When they got off the bus, they walked quietly in the mildness of the Hawaiian night; they reached the front door to Bobbi’s quarters without saying a word. She stopped and said, “Thanks, Richard. I hope you get back to Springville someday, safe and sound.”

  “Bobbi, I’m sorry. I’ve wanted to get to know you, but I haven’t dared. I think you understand that, don’t you?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “I tried to explain. As much as I can.” He stood for a moment, obviously struggling to think of something to say in parting, but finally he merely held out his hand. Under the porch light at the doorstep, he looked tan, wonderfully handsome, but very much in pain. She wanted so badly to take him in her arms and cling to him. But she only took hold of his hand. He held it for a few seconds, and then he nodded, let go, and walked away.

  Why?

  Bobbi felt as though she were about to be swallowed up in that same emptiness she had felt when she’d had to leave David in Chicago. Why couldn’t anything ever work out right in her life? She didn’t turn to go inside; she simply stood and watched him pace away with those long, resolute strides.

  Then he glanced back. When he saw her, still standing by the door, he stopped. She nodded and he turned around. And then he stood and looked at her. She could read nothing in his face, and as the seconds mounted, she wondered why he didn’t just end this. She was crying now, tears running down her face, and his standing there was only adding to the pain.

  Then he began to walk again, but this time toward her.

  When he reached her, he didn’t grab her. He merely took her gently by the shoulders and pulled her to him, held her next to him and wrapped her in his arms for the very first time. He didn’t say a word, and she was still not clear what he was thinking.

  “Bobbi,” he finally whispered, “I do want to have this bit of time. But it seems so selfish.”

  “It’s all we have,” she said.

  “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  “Yes. But no. I’ll get off somehow. I’ll bribe someone to take my shift. I’ll do . . . anything.”

  “Okay. I only have tomorrow, but I’ll get away, too. And maybe I can borrow that car again. We can go back to the north shore. All day.”

  “All right. I’ll go AWOL if I have to.”

  “Bobbi, it’s just the one day. I can’t say exactly when I’m leaving, but tomorrow is the only day I can get away from my ship.”

  “One day is so much better than what we just had.”

  He stepped back enough to look into her eyes, and then, finally, he leaned forward and kissed her. It was the lightest of kisses but the loveliest of Bobbi’s life.

  Bobbi didn’t let him go. She pulled him back, kissed him again, longer this time, and then she nestled against him and felt engulfed with joy and relief, even though she knew already that so much torment lay ahead.

  Richard picked up Bobbi early the next morning. She had agreed with Iris Smithton to trade two shifts for one over the weekend, which meant she would miss church, but at least she would have her day with Richard.

  He seemed more relaxed, happier than she had ever seen him, as he drove through the mountains, up over the steep Nuuanu Pali road and then north through Laie and around to Waimea Bay, where they had been before. This time they did go swimming. They swam against the waves and then let the surf carry them back, and they played in the shallow water, splashing each other, teasing, laughing. There had been no chance to pack a lunch, so they bought pineapples, guavas, and mangos at a roadside stand, and they returned to the beach. They found a shady spot, a little away from the beach, and they cut the fruit with Richard’s pocketknife. The fresh pineapple was luscious, but Bobbi always seemed to find a way to let the juice run all over her. She laughed. “I’m making a sticky mess of myself,” she said.

  “Me too,” Richard said. “Maybe we can get stuck together, and they won’t be able to ship me out.”

  It was the most flirtatious thing he had ever said to her, and she was taken by surprise. “I think I’m starting to see a whole new side of you, Richard.”

  He laughed. “Well, you’ve certainly seen the more serious side of me up until now.”

  “Why?”

  “Are you going to make me serious all over again?”

  “Temporarily. I’m curious to know.” But that’s not exactly what Bobbi was thinking. It had all been very fun, and Bobbi liked Richard this way, but he actually hadn’t revealed any more of his feelings than before. He had not kissed her again, hardly touched her all day, and he’d said nothing about the future.

  Richard was still wearing his swimming trunks, but he had also put on an old shirt, light blue, which he had left mostly unbuttoned. He pushed his bare feet into the sand and leaned forward, his arms on his knees. “When I came back from our last tour of duty, I wasn’t in a very good state of mind. A lot of terrible things happened.”

  “Are you talking about those Japanese soldiers you saw in the water?”

  “Well, yes. But there was a lot more than that. We got hit by dive bombers and took some heavy damage. We were lucky to stay afloat. And a lot of people died. One of the officers, a good friend of mine, got burned over most of his body. He lived, but now I think he wishes he hadn’t.”

  Bobbi suddenly understood a few things Richard had obviously been thinking about. “It must be horrible for you to go back out there.”

  “Of course it is. But it’s not just the danger. It’s everything to do with the war. In port I started to feel human. But now everything starts again.”

  “Richard, tell me something. Why didn’t you want to have dinner with Sister Aoki?”

  “Isn’t that obvious, Bobbi? When you’re trying to kill human beings, it’s not good to think of them as people like yourself. Sister Aoki only reminds me that the Japanese are cultured, kindly people. That’s not a good thing to have on my mind when I’m bombarding Jap troops on some little island.”

  “And what about the Dear John you got? How does that fit into all this?”

  Richard looked at Bobbi directly, accepted her own gaze. “I didn’t want to get close to you, Bobbi. I liked you the first time I met you. I knew immediately that you were bright and interesting and—”

  “Just not gorgeous.”

  “Oh, Bobbi, one of your best qualities is that you have no idea how pretty you are. You’ve got this fresh, wonderful quality. You seem so sophisticated, and then you smile, and you look like an eleven-year-old kid.”

  “Is that good?”

  “It’s perfect. You’re this wonderful blend of everything I want. You’re smart and pretty and thoughtful—and yet you’re not conceited. You’re good, Bobbi—really, really good. And lately I’ve had a
hard time believing in goodness.”

  Bobbi’s breath was gone.

  “But I didn’t want to hurt you. And I didn’t want to go through the same thing again. Margie—the girl in Springville—sent that letter to me after I had worried so much about her. I wanted to be free of concerns this time. Then if something happened, there was no one who would have to feel the pain.”

  “And no one for you to lose?”

  “That’s right. But when I left home, it never occurred to me that I might die. Even when we got into our first action, it seemed impossible that anything would happen to me. But then we got hit, and all these guys were dying—a lot of them with girls back home—and it became very clear that I might not get my chance to be married and raise a family and do all the things I’ve always wanted to do. So I vowed not to get involved with anyone again until I knew for sure I was going to get through the war.”

  “It’s funny. I vowed almost the same thing. I was engaged once, and I got my whole family upset with me when I backed out. Then I fell in love with a guy who wasn’t a member of the Church, and I scared my parents half to death. It was all way too complicated, so I joined the navy and told myself I would stay out of any more attachments—until life got back to normal.”

  “Normal. What is that? I’d give anything for those days in high school when I’d never heard of most of these islands in the Pacific.”

  Bobbi slid a little closer and took hold of his arm. “What were you like then? In high school.”

  “I was pretty shy, actually. I spent a lot more time with my buddies than I ever did with girls. I hunted and fished a lot, practiced basketball all year round. But I don’t know; I can hardly remember who I was back then. I don’t think I ever had a serious thought about anything.”

  “Most guys are like that in high school. Girls, too, I guess. But I thought about everything. I asked so many questions I drove myself and everyone else crazy. There always seemed so much to discover, and none of my friends seemed to care. I couldn’t find anyone who looked at the world the same way I did.”

  “It’s good we didn’t meet in college, Bobbi. I was really practical, and I got my education, but I was always complaining that I saw no reason to study history or art—or anything of that sort—when I was going to be an engineer.”