by Liz Tolsma
The oppressive, humid air covered him. His threadbare cotton shirt clung to his chest. Sweat trickled down the side of his face.
Then he caught a quiet but insistent voice, its tones hushed.
“Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” A sweet female voice, laced with pain, one with a familiar timbre.
He hurried toward the small shanty and flung open the door. Irene sat on the mud-covered bamboo floor, her long legs tucked tightly to her. He stepped forward. A wisp of her blond hair fell across her perfect but tearstained, dirt-encrusted cheek. Though she spoke to her Maker, her eyes were trained on a spot in the corner, not far from her.
Rand followed her line of vision. The perspiration on his skin turned to ice.
A bright-green pit viper wriggled toward her, ready to strike.
“Don’t move.”
Irene startled at Rand’s voice, breaking off her prayer. She turned toward him, her blue eyes large in her round face. “Help me.”
If he only knew how. “Just stay put.”
A stick. That’s what he needed. There were plenty of them littering the ground. He backed out with slow, deliberate motions, then turned and found an acacia tree branch snapped in half. Perfect.
He grabbed it and headed back for the hut, no plan springing to mind. When he was a boy, a snake had slithered into his family’s compound and Armando poked it with a stick. He wished he remembered what else Armando did.
The snake inched ever closer to Irene. He didn’t have time to waste. Stepping between the viper and its intended victim, he poked the snake. It hissed in anger and focused its attention on Rand with its creepy eyes.
“Run, Irene, run.”
“I can’t. The mud is too slippery. I have no traction.”
“Are you hurt?” He didn’t take his eyes from the creature.
“No.”
“Then you have to get up.” Another poke of the stick produced another venomous hiss.
“I’ve tried.”
“I can’t help you.”
“You have to.” Tears colored her words. “Or else I’m going to die.”
“Their bite is rarely fatal.”
“I don’t care. With conditions here, it may well be. Please.”
Rand moved forward, pushing the snake farther into the corner of the hut. It voiced its displeasure with the move. He gave it one more good poke and, in a single movement, dropped the stick, turned toward Irene, scooped her in his arms, and carried her from the hut.
Once outside, he dropped her without warning, and she stumbled to her feet. He reached to steady her.
Blond lashes framed her eyes, droplets of water clinging to them, her skin smooth and fair. Her nose was straight and upturned, her lips red. Even without makeup and with a smudge of dirt across her forehead, she was magnificent.
He leaned in to kiss her.
She stepped away with such abruptness that he stumbled. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so thankful that you aren’t hurt …” He crossed his heart. “It won’t happen again.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise. Thank you, though, for rescuing me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”
“Irene, Irene, and a snake so green. I’ve never seen a snake so mean.”
“You’re teasing me again.” Her lower lip trembled.
He caressed her cheek. “I’m not, trust me. I wanted to make you laugh.”
“There’s nothing funny about a snake.”
“True. They don’t do cabaret.”
She creased her forehead but didn’t laugh at his joke.
“I gather you don’t like them.”
“No. Anita was bit once. I thought she was going to die.” She shivered.
He clasped their damp hands together. “You’re wet through. I’ll walk you back to the Main Building.”
“I still need to put our rice up higher. At least half of it is wet already.”
He stepped into the hut. The snake had slunk to the other side of the room, away from the rice and the table. Rand hoped it would stay there. He kept his one good eye focused on it and avoided the worst of the mud.
Not turning his back on the viper, he hefted the almost-full bag of rice onto the table. It was twice as heavy as it should be. In no time it would be ruined. The wobbly table legs threatened to give way under the weight of it. Rand watched it for a moment before deciding he was satisfied it wouldn’t collapse.
He wiped his hands on his pants as he emerged. “All done.”
“Thank you. I just …” She stared at her stained blue dress and her muddy legs. Gorgeous muddy legs.
He forced his attention back to her face. “You’re welcome. Now let’s get you home.”
She glanced around. For what? Then she flashed him the tiniest of smiles, a little dimple in her cheek he’d never noticed before. “That would be nice.”
They started in the direction of the women’s dorm.
“What are you doing out here on this lovely day?”
He appreciated her attempt at levity. “Because it was so ducky, I thought I’d take a stroll to my hut and find out if it’s still standing.”
“And is it?”
“Yes, for the most part. The floor is flooded, but it is still standing, and the roof held.”
“That’s good.”
“The question is, what are you doing out?”
“That bag of rice. Rand, it’s all we have. We didn’t take it to the Main Building with us. I couldn’t manage it with Anita. So I had to come and save it. I had to.”
“Your life is more important than rice.” He’d never met such a stubborn woman, one who never learned her lesson.
“Our rice is our life.” Her lips pursed.
Jeepers creepers, he didn’t think before he spoke. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine.” A rather fake smile lit her face, but he decided to drop the matter before he upset her further. Perhaps next time she would weigh her decision before embarking on a dangerous mission.
Like he should talk.
He sloshed beside her for a while. “The strangest thing happened to me when I was at my shanty.”
She glanced at him. “What?”
“There was this man there. A Mr. Covey. He introduced himself to me when the typhoon first hit, although he acted as if he knew me quite well.”
“Why would he be at your shanty? Is his nearby?”
“I have no idea. But he wasn’t at the shanty, he was in it.”
“In it. As in breaking in it?”
“He claims that he wanted to do me a favor and check on my supplies for me while he was out. But he has these shifty eyes, much the same as your snake, but blue.”
She sucked in her breath. “That was not my snake. But how odd that he would be in there. What do you make of it?”
He led her around a deep puddle. “I can’t figure it out. Maybe he’s nothing but a strange man, but my heart tells me it’s more.”
Irene sat at her desk in the censor’s office and stared at the pile of notes stacked high. Everyone wanted to send a message after the typhoon, letting their interned friends and relatives know about damage and safety—or lack of it.
Though she tried, her mind refused to stay focused on the task in front of her. She had a difficult time memorizing the censored parts of the notes today. Instead, Rand and his almost-kiss dominated her thoughts. Was he developing feelings for her? And what were her feelings for him? She wound a curl around her finger.
They were from two different worlds—his glittery high society, hers plain and simple. And when he found out her secret, he would want nothing to do with her. Better to rebuff his advances and let him go now, while the going was easy.
“Irene, haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”
She snapped back to reality to find Mercedes leaning against her desk clad in a pretty red dress with beige polka dots. “Oh, Mercedes, I’m sorry. I didn’
t see you there.”
“Didn’t see me? What were you thinking about so hard?”
Heat rose in her face. “Nothing at all.”
“I came to welcome you back from Santiago Hospital. And I heard your aunt is back too.”
“Yes, she is and doing much better, thank you. Have you seen the Japanese guard again?” Just asking the question caused Irene’s mouth to go dry.
“Yesterday. He walked Paulo and me to our shanty. He even gave Paulo a piece of peppermint candy before he left.”
Irene cleared her throat. “Don’t see him anymore. Don’t talk to him. Don’t get close to him.”
“Why not?”
“Sit down and pull up close. I don’t want the other girls to hear.” Mercedes did as she bid. “The guard who arranged for my pass also produced a pass for me to be out in Manila. Foolish as I was, I went to Mr. Sterling’s house to check on his houseboy. Anyway, the soldier followed me there and … well, he attacked me.”
Mercedes’s eyes grew large. “Attacked you?”
“Shh.”
“Are you all right?”
“I got away. I don’t know how, but I managed to escape. But you have to understand that these Japanese aren’t nice. They pretend to be kind so they can trick us and take advantage of us. You have to be careful. Break off all contact with this guard.” She grasped her friend’s hands and squeezed.
Mercedes pulled them away. “But Mr. Tanaka would never do that. Never. He is too good. And he already knows where my hut is.”
“You can’t be too careful. The man who attacked me and who is kind to you might even be the same man. I am begging you. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you.”
Mercedes patted Irene’s hand. “It won’t. I promise to be careful. But don’t make generalizations. I’m sure this isn’t the same man.”
February 1944
“What did you say?” Rand stared at Irene, sure he must have heard wrong. He had met her and Anita on the grounds in front of the Main Building as they waited for an orchestra concert to begin. Families and couples filled the lawn.
“I am out of a job.” Her face was pale, and she knotted her fingers together. “The new commandant has ordered the package line to be closed immediately. All vendors are to leave the grounds of Santo Tomas. That means no more messages will be coming in from the outside. No more notes to censor.”
Rand walked in a circle and tried to control his breathing. “They can’t do that to us. They can’t cut us off like that.” They couldn’t cut him off from Armando. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Our stipend will be increased to fifty-five cents per day.”
“What good is that going to do us?” He flailed his arms. “Between inflation and no food from the outside, the money is worthless.” He had never thought those words would pass from his lips.
The string quartet began to play. Only a few measures into their piece, the heavy iron gates clanged open and two trucks sped into the compound, sending the group gathered on the lawn scattering. Rand pulled Irene and Anita out of the way.
Irene held her hand to her heart. “What’s going on?”
The same question raced through his mind. He shrugged. “With this new commandant, who knows. The war is going badly for the Japanese. He’s more determined than ever to make us suffer.”
He couldn’t help but glance at Irene as he spoke. She and Anita, along with countless others, had lost much of their food stockpile in the typhoon. Now they had little money and no opportunity to replace their precious supply.
And yet they didn’t complain. They had every right to. Some might expect them to. He thought they would. But they didn’t.
How was it that they managed not to?
Several drab-dressed, dark-haired soldiers jumped from the backs of each truck and began tossing bags onto the ground.
“Rice!” someone in the crowd shouted.
Rand surged forward at the word, as did the rest of the throng, all determined to get their hands on as much of the precious commodity as possible. He could help himself, Irene, Anita, and countless others.
“Look out!”
Irene’s shout didn’t stop him. He drove forward, propelled by the force of the mob. He would run over his own grandmother to get some food for Irene and her aunt.
“Get back.” A soldier shoved Rand in the chest, and he stumbled against Irene. Together they tumbled to the ground.
A bayonet affixed to the soldier’s rifle glinted with the last of the sun’s rays. “All stay away or we fire.”
The group took several backward steps, Rand and Irene crab walking out of the guards’ reach.
The orchestral music continued to float on the evening breeze.
Rand stood, then offered Irene a hand up. Hers was rough in his. He had never done hard work like she had.
The entire crowd stood still, breath held.
“Are they going to increase our ration?” Rand didn’t miss the note of hope in Irene’s voice.
“They must be. Why else would they bring in so much?”
“God has provided.” Mrs. Markham’s face shone as if heaven itself smiled on her. Perhaps it did.
He wrapped his arm around Irene’s thin shoulders and watched as the Japanese unloaded the remaining bags of rice.
The soldiers then gathered around the stacks of burlap sacks, raised their arms, bayoneted guns in hand, and slashed open the bags. Rice flooded out, spilling onto the ground, mixing with dirt, trampled on by booted feet.
A collective cry rose. “No!”
Irene gasped. “They can’t do that. They can’t. What will we live on?” Tears tinged her words. “Anita, they’re slashing open the bags of rice and spoiling it all.”
Laughter rose from the throats of their captors.
Irene trembled in Rand’s arms, and he clung to her all the tighter. “Those mosquitoes. Cruel, heartless. They intend to starve us.”
Chapter Eighteen
With no more work at the censor’s office because of the closing of the package line, which included cutting off notes from the outside world, life turned dull and routine. Irene worked in the mornings in the kitchen, peeling vegetables such as camotes and cleaning the leafy talinum. She was allowed to take the peels home and use them to supplement the meager diet they got at the chow line.
Bile rose in her throat at the thought of all of that rice, spilled on the ground, useless, while men and women and children went hungry.
But this particular morning was difficult to get out of bed. The sun was already hot, and Irene hadn’t slept well. She woke up grumpy and out of sorts.
“I wish we didn’t have to stand for this twice-a-day roll call.” She led Anita through the maze of cots and desks to the restroom line. “It’s crazy. Another rule instituted just to cause more suffering. Let’s hope the room monitor gets our count correct today. Twenty minutes is long enough. An hour and a half is too much.”
Much of her consternation came from the fact that she was very worried about Anita. She wasn’t eating enough and was showing signs of beriberi, especially swollen legs. Walking had become difficult for her.
“At least it’s not snowing or raining today.”
Irene sighed. “Don’t you ever get discouraged or angry? You have a right to be. You are allowed to complain. Now that the Japanese have stopped the nightly music, it’s the chief form of entertainment around here.”
Anita flashed a half smile. “Of course I do. But then I remember all of the good things the Lord has done for me. I count my blessings every day. Some days, yes, it’s difficult to come up with many, but I always do. Always.”
“What would be on your list for today?”
“The sun is shining. The Lord gave us life today. We have a shanty where we can spend our afternoons resting.”
Irene held up her hands. “Okay, I see now. You’re right. I should count my blessings.”
“And what would they be?”
She rubbed the bac
k of her neck. “I have a job in the kitchen where I can get food. I have a roof over my head at night.”
Anita laughed, and Irene was glad to hear the sound. “That’s the spirit. God has been good to us. He hasn’t neglected us. He clothes us and provides for us just as He does the lilies of the field.”
But with their treatment at the hands of their new taskmasters, Irene wondered.
They finished their morning preparations and, after standing in queue for breakfast, lined up in the hall of the Main Building. Irene held Anita’s elbow to support her. Anita’s face paled and her legs trembled. Irene wished she had brought a chair with them.
As the soldiers came to inspect the internees, they were expected now to bow. Anita had forbidden Irene from doing so, saying they would bow to no man. She wished her aunt would relent. She usually sneaked a small dip of her head, hoping to satisfy the guard and to appease her aunt.
Today, as the armed soldier strode past, all of those around them gave the deep from-the-waist bow the Japanese demanded. Irene and Anita stood tall. The short but muscular man spotted them and made his way toward the two women. Irene’s own legs began to tremble. She recognized the face.
“Bow.” He gripped his gun, his knuckles white.
Anita shook her head. “We bow only to God.”
A murmur rose around them. “Bow,” a woman hissed. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Anita.” Irene laced her words with pleading, remembering the pain he inflicted the last time she refused to bow.
But Irene’s aunt remained stubborn. And she sent Irene a poisonous glare demanding that she not give in.
“It’s him,” she whispered.
“Bow.”
Surely the Lord would forgive them if they bent at the waist just this once.
“I bow only to God.”
“I have no use for your God.”
Irene felt as much as heard the whack of the soldier’s hand across her aunt’s face. She gripped Anita’s elbow and clenched her other hand. “She is ill.” Her breath came at a rapid pace.
The soldier’s hand connected with her own cheek. It stung and brought tears of pain to her eyes. Fear shot through her like an electric jolt.