Remember the Lilies

by Liz Tolsma

  Irene tried to take it all in. Yes, the internees were weary both physically and emotionally, and Santo Tomas was not as pretty as it had been two and a half years ago when they arrived. Shanties dotted the landscape. The beautiful lawns had been turned into vegetable gardens, now weed-infested because the internees lacked the energy to properly care for them.

  But tonight, just for tonight, the square was beautiful and the hunger pains forgotten. “This is wonderful. I thought it would be records over the loudspeaker and people dancing in mud.”

  “Let this camp fade into the distance. Imagine yourself in my club. The tinkling of glasses. The laughter of couples. The whisper of skirts.”

  “Imagine myself with all of the pretty girls?”

  “Only you.”

  The orchestra struck up a waltz. That’s what Rand told her, anyway. She had no idea what was going on. He bowed in front of her and offered his hand. “Shall we?”

  She nodded, trembling at the thought of stepping on his toes. He slipped his left hand into her right and his right hand around her waist. “Are you fine with this?”

  “Yes.” She could hardly breathe. Though he was six feet tall, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

  “Count to three, and come along with me.”

  He began to move. Irene felt as if she were floating. The music lifted her, and Rand carried her across the floor. Her skirt swished around her knees. One song after another played, and she and Rand danced until they could dance no more. The music changed, more of a Lindy Hop according to him, and Irene bowed out. He escorted her to the side.

  “You don’t have to stand here with me. There are plenty of women who would love to dance with you.” She noticed quite a number of young ladies smiling and batting their eyes in his direction. Irene fanned herself with her hand.

  “They don’t hold my interest. Not like you.”

  Her heart fluttered. He was a smooth talker. “I see Sheila King. She’d like to have you for a partner.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “You know how to show the young ladies a good time.”

  “That I do.” With a glint in his eyes, he walked over to Sheila, bowed to her, and swung her around the dance floor. Several other of the little girls took their turns with him, and he was red faced and panting when he returned to her.

  “Let’s take a walk, shall we?” Rand held her hand.

  “Can’t handle all of the attention?”

  “Well, Sheila’s very special. She’s had it tough. I like to make her smile, if only for a few minutes. However, there’s only one lady’s attention I’m vying for tonight.”

  If she were a fainting woman, she’d swoon. “Shouldn’t we tell Tessa and your friend Bruce where we’re going?”

  Rand tipped his head toward the dancers. “I saw them making eyes at each other. I don’t think they’ll miss us.”

  “That sounds like Tessa.”

  Together they walked around the Main Building and toward Father’s Garden. The music and laughter faded into the distance. Rand drew her close, and she felt his heart beating furiously against hers. “I’m not frightening you, am I?”

  Not in the way he thought. “No. I, well, I like this.” She smiled though she trembled from head to toe.

  He whispered into her ear, “I meant it when I said you were the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. No one compares to you, Irene. No one. Don’t doubt it.”

  He turned his head, and his lips met her cheek. A soft kiss.

  His lips met her cheek again and then her lips, brushing them, setting them on fire. He slipped his arms from around her and held her face in his hands. “I’m falling for you, Miss Reynolds.”

  She had already fallen.

  He kissed her again, harder this time. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and kissed him. Too soon, far too soon, he broke away and stepped back. “How are you?”

  She nodded, unable to answer, not wanting the moment to end.

  She jumped at the thud and the curse that followed.

  They weren’t alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rand spun from Irene’s embrace upon hearing the sound behind them. “Who’s there?” It could be a Japanese soldier, ready to punish them for a public display of affection.

  A figure sprinted across the garden and toward Shantytown. Rand started after him, but Irene caught him. “Stop. Don’t chase him. It was Mr. Covey.”

  “You’re sure about that? How could you tell in the dark?”

  “The man was the right size and shape, and I saw his mustache. I only know one man with facial hair like that.”

  The warmth that had filled Rand moments earlier as he held Irene in his arms escaped and left a chill in its wake. “Covey. Of course.”

  “I spoke to him yesterday. He refused to tell me what is going on between the two of you.”

  Rand stepped back and pursed his lips, but the words exploded nonetheless. “I told you to stay away from him and to let this matter die. It’s of no consequence to you. Please, Irene, don’t meddle in my business. All you’re going to do is make matters worse.”

  He hated the pain in her eyes at his harsh words, but he hated more what she had done. He could feel Covey’s noose tightening around his neck. She didn’t want to know his secret. He had to keep her from finding out. He didn’t want to face the hurt in her beautiful blue eyes when he told her what kind of man he was.

  Because if she did know, so would his entire social circle. Irene would tell Tessa who would tell—well, everyone.

  And then he would lose everything.

  He walked around her, his arms taut, his jaw clenched.

  “Maybe I can help you.”

  If he gave her a little information, perhaps that would be enough. Then she would drop the matter and never speak of it again. “Yes, Covey is threatening me. He wants to take away my business. If he makes me look bad, the elite of Manila will no longer want to associate with me, and then he will be king of the nightclubs.”

  “He’ll take everything important to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “So he was happy when you were sent to Fort Santiago and angry when you came back. Thus, the first note. The first one from him, anyway.”

  “Correct again. Though it appeared to come from the outside, he had it planted on your desk. I’m sure of it. He will spread rumors about me until I am an outcast. As for right now, he’s my business partner.” He touched her warm cheek. “But don’t you see? If you pester him about this, he will increase his attacks against me unless I give him a larger percentage of the clubs. It will never end.”

  Irene gasped. “I’m sorry I went against your wishes. I should have trusted you when you told me to stay away.”

  “Apology accepted. Now will you avoid Covey?”

  “I will. I promise.” She brushed a kiss against his cheek.

  His stomach tightened.

  What if Covey saw their other kiss? What kind of ammunition would that give him?

  Irene returned to her shanty, floating on a cloud. Whether she experienced a thousand kisses in her life or just this one, she would never forget the one she got tonight. Her first. Rand’s lips on hers, so soft and gentle, yet full of passion. She had never known such feelings existed.

  Her aunt’s warning rang in her head, but she pushed it aside. This was innocent. The war would end, and they would return to their normal lives—Rand to his glittering high society and she to humble charitable work. Two different people. Two different worlds. Two different lives.

  Tessa hadn’t returned yet. She and Bruce had hit it off and appeared to be having the time of their lives. Before returning to the Main Building to sleep, Irene slipped off the beautiful borrowed dress and hung it where it wouldn’t get damaged. She may never wear a gown so lovely again. She fingered the material one last time before gathering a change of clothes. Then she began the trip to her classroom.

  Darkness had descended, though st
ars littered the sky.

  She hadn’t gone more than twenty steps when a Japanese soldier approached from the opposite direction. Her heart froze.

  He strode her way, relaxed, his gun slung over his shoulder. Almost casual. Very different from the guards’ patrols. Mercedes’s friend?

  She dropped her gaze.

  Dear God, don’t let it be. Help me to stop seeing him in every Japanese face.

  Willing her legs to move, she stepped to the side to allow him to pass, bowing at the prescribed angle, hoping she would not attract attention.

  He stopped in front of her, his once-shiny black boots now dusty and worn.

  She trembled as he turned in her direction. What had she done?

  “You.”

  No. No. No.

  She dared to peer at him.

  His laugh morphed into a sneer.

  She studied his right hand. Cold rushed from her heart throughout her body.

  That hand. Missing a fingertip. Her legs melted. She fell to the ground.

  He stepped closer.

  Screams tore from her throat. “Get away. Stay away from me.” She flailed her arms and legs, stirring the dirt.

  He was at her side in a flash, his hand over her mouth, pulling her to her feet. She fought for air, tried to bite him, to kick him in the groin. All to no avail. He held fast.

  Where was he taking her? What was he going to do with her?

  “And God bless Mama, and God bless Papa in heaven, and God bless Mr. Tanaka. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  Mercedes tucked the threadbare sheet around her son’s small body and kissed him on the forehead. “Good night, my love. Sleep well and may the angels keep watch over you.”

  He hugged her neck with a fierceness that surprised her.

  “What is it?”

  “You’re sad.”

  “I miss your father and our home.”

  “We’ll leave soon. I saw my teacher yesterday, and he said the Japanese are going to lose the war, and it won’t be long now. Our boys have them on the run.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears.” She kissed him again and adjusted his covers before walking out of the room to sit on the sofa in the living area. The stores Charles had laid up for them wouldn’t hold out much longer. Right now she needed her husband’s strength. The women in the camp shunned her because of Mr. Tanaka, and Irene avoided her. The soldier hadn’t brought her food in over a month. Mercedes didn’t know how much longer she and Paulo would survive.

  Leaning back, she sighed and closed her eyes. Her prayers refused to come. She was as adrift in the sea as a warship without power.

  She wished for a deep, dreamless sleep—the only time she wasn’t hungry or afraid. For the past few weeks it had eluded her.

  Screams reached her ears, jolting her from her stupor. Yelling wasn’t unheard of in the camp. Couples squabbled. Children threw temper tantrums. Babies demanded attention. Living in such close quarters, it was surprising there wasn’t more of it.

  Something about these screams disturbed Mercedes. Like she had heard the voice before. She pulled herself from the depths of the old couch and went to the no-privacy window. The night was dark, and with blackout conditions enforced to the letter of the law, seeing anything was difficult to impossible on this moonless night.

  She peered out farther. The screams had stopped. No, they were muffled now. She heard scuffling. Like a struggle was going on.

  “Hello.” Her voice was tentative. She trembled, wanting the fight to end but not caring to get in the middle of an argument. “Is everything okay?”

  For a moment, the muffled cries grew louder. Then they stopped. Rapid footsteps approached, and a sound like someone was dragging something.

  The tumult came closer. A figure—no, two—drew near. One shape was tall, regal almost. A soldier. The other? Mercedes squinted. The shape of a woman.

  Why would a guard be dragging a woman with him?

  Mercedes’s midsection turned to ice. She no sooner thought the question than she had the answer. “No.” The word was a whisper. With a churning stomach, she ran to the door and opened it a crack.

  Not any soldier. The height, the bearing, the way he walked. It was Mr. Tanaka. Despite the darkness, she was sure.

  Her heart began pumping at a furious pace, and she clutched her hand to her chest. Irene. Oh, God, no. Not her. Please, God, not her.

  She shut the door, careful to keep it from banging. What should she do? Should she yell at him? Go and pull Irene away? Get help?

  Yes, help. That’s what she needed to do. Who? Charles, why aren’t you here?

  Rand. Good idea. She would get Rand.

  But there wasn’t time. Why was she hesitating? She hadn’t given a second thought to getting involved with the man with the fish. So why?

  Because this had everything to do with how wrong she’d been.

  With shaking hands, she threw open the door. “What is going on?”

  In an instant, the soldier removed his hand from Irene’s mouth.

  “It’s him. I told you it’s him.”

  “She is mistaken.”

  Mercedes lunged in his direction. “I am the one who was mistaken. Get out of here. We don’t need your help. Leave us alone. Don’t ever come back.” Every muscle in her body tensed.

  “You will miss me. When your son is starving, you will miss me.”

  Either way, Mercedes was doomed.

  Rand held open the door to his shanty, the early-morning sun streaming through. “Come in, Mr. Covey. I’ve been expecting you.”

  “That sounds like a very warm welcome. And you were right to expect me.”

  “I wish you would stop following me.”

  “Ah, but then I wouldn’t glean important information about you, would I? And several interesting tidbits have come to my attention in the past few days. Namely, in regard to Miss Irene Reynolds.”

  Rand sat on the chair in the living room without inviting Covey to do the same. “Leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with it.”

  “I beg to differ. She now has everything to do with it. A missionary girl, I believe. Devout. Pure. How would she feel if she discovered your indiscretions? That you have a child you have never met and do not support despite your large bank account?”

  “You are twisting the story around so it no longer resembles the truth.”

  “The truth is you don’t want me to tell Miss Reynolds about your daughter, do you?”

  Rand sighed and ran his hand over the arm of the chair. Maybe the time had come to see if Mr. Covey was bluffing. Would he really tell Irene about Melanie?

  Yes.

  But he had no idea how Irene would react. Maybe she would forgive him for his sins. Wasn’t that what Christians were supposed to do? She would understand that this happened years ago and that he only found out about his daughter at a time when he could do nothing about the situation.

  “The price for my silence will be high. I want to be a seventy percent partner.”

  “Seventy percent?” Rand’s mouth hung open. “We had agreed to controlling interest: fifty-one percent.”

  “My price has risen.” He gave a crooked grin to match his crooked nose. “Of course, you would continue your fine job of managing them and will collect a tidy portion of the profits.”

  “I would never—”

  “Mr. Sterling, I would be careful of using the word never.”

  Rand wanted to break the chair in half. Instead, he pounded his fist on the seat. “Again, I will need time to think about this. I won’t hand over large portions of my business without considering all of my options.”

  Mr. Covey nodded. “I’ll be back this time tomorrow for your answer. I saw that kiss last night. You care for Miss Reynolds, and she has strong feelings for you. She is beautiful and kind and everything you could ask for in a wife. Do you want to risk losing her? Will you ever find another as sweet as her?”

  Mr. Covey lef
t, the door banging shut behind him.

  Rand held his pounding head. Armando had taught him right from wrong, and he had ignored the man’s admonition.

  His sins had come back to haunt him.

  Either way, he would lose one of his loves—Irene or the clubs.

  Yes, he loved Irene. She was the most incredible woman he had ever met. She filled a hole inside of him. He imagined her by his side forever. He dreamed of kissing her and holding her far into the night.

  He sighed and rubbed his temples.

  He couldn’t have both.

  But which one should he choose?

  It took Rand the better part of the afternoon, but he finally located Irene pulling weeds from between her talinum plants. Her arms and legs had tanned, but she wore a large straw hat to protect her ivory face.

  “Hello there.”

  She looked up and smiled, then straightened and rubbed the small of her back. “Rand.” She shuffled her feet.

  He understood how she felt. It was the first time they had seen each other since the kiss. For whatever reason, he was shy, wondering if she remembered what happened between them and if she cherished it as much as he did.

  No other kiss had affected him so.

  “What brings you here? Are you going to help weed?”

  “Brown thumb. Sorry. You don’t want me anywhere near your plants. In fact, why don’t we take a walk, away from them, so they don’t see me and die.”

  “Is that the effect you have on them?”

  He wanted to ask her what effect he had on her. “You don’t want to find out.”

  She wiped her hands on her dirty pink apron and ran the back of her hand across her forehead. “You will have to put up with the way I look unless you’re going to give me time to wash up and change.”

  “You look as beautiful right now as you did last night.”

  “No wonder the women like you, with the way you flatter them.”

  They meandered side by side into Glamourville and down the street. His mouth was as dry as the Mojave Desert and his hands as damp as the Philippine jungle.

  He loved her.

  And he was about to break her heart.

  “On the way back to the Main Building last night, that soldier tried to attack me again.”