by Liz Tolsma
He swallowed hard, praying Covey didn’t notice the quiver in his voice. “Thirty percent. I’m prepared to walk away from the table and take my chances if you don’t accept my terms.”
“Seventy percent. Take it or leave it. How much are two lives worth?”
All the man wanted was controlling interest. He wanted to be in charge.
And if Rand lost the clubs? Could he live with that?
Was there more to life than success? Than being someone people stood in awe of, who waved to you when you drove past, who fawned over you?
Maybe. He didn’t know. But he did know he could never live with being the one to bring harm to his daughter. Or with losing Irene.
He drew in a deep breath and held it.
Then he nodded.
The gleeful glint returned to Covey’s eyes. “I’ll draw up the papers and send them over to you for your signature. This time we’ll have it all in writing. Nice and legal. And the contract will include the stipulation that you’ll reopen the clubs within one year of the end of the war.”
Rand didn’t argue.
Covey was about to get everything Rand ever wanted.
October 19, 1944
Irene bent over her flowers, her legs and hands swollen and painful from the beriberi. She ached all over and was so tired.
With all of the air raids in the past month, she hadn’t had much time to tend to her garden. She wanted at least to pluck off the spent blooms. Soon the weeds would choke out all of her flowers.
After the first few days of heavy raids, several days without bombings had passed, and so it continued. Planes would come one after the other, then stop for a while. Hopes would soar. Hopes would fall.
She wanted to look up and stretch her neck, but the commandant’s new decree kept her eyes fixed on her flowers. Whoever looked to the skies was to be punished. And who knew what form that punishment would take?
Irene sat back in the dirt. Rand came from her shanty with a glass of water in his hand. “Drink up. You look thirsty.”
“No wonder the ladies all swoon over you, with the way you flatter them.” She gave him her best smile.
“You’ve discovered my secret. I hope it doesn’t mean you’ll be immune to my charms.”
“You won’t win me with your sweet-talking ways.”
He brushed her cheek. “Rest for a while.”
The word rest brought to mind the Bible passage her aunt had recited to her. Jacob shall return, and be in rest and at ease. She studied Rand—shirtless, skinny, sunken-chested. How long, O Lord, how long? How long until You deliver us?
No answer came.
After a while of sitting in silence, he pulled her up. “Come on, let’s go get some lugao and pretend it’s chocolate cake.”
She nodded. “Oh, that would be so good. I could eat an entire one by myself.”
“I’ve done just that.”
“And borne your amah’s wrath, I assume.”
“No, Armando covered for me.”
She gave him a gentle elbow to the side. “No wonder you’re so spoiled.”
“A genuine brat.” He grinned, full and wide.
They were still crossing the yard when they heard the rumble of approaching planes. Rand looked up, and Irene followed his gaze. Were they American planes or the Japanese? Their boys hadn’t bombed in a few days.
From the corner of her eye, she spied a guard with a fixed bayonet. She nudged Rand in the ribs. “Look down. The soldier is watching you.”
They picked up their pace, but the guard caught them, moving in front of them. He spat at Rand. “You were looking up.”
“I was stretching my neck.”
“Not true.” The soldier struck Rand, and he stumbled backward. “If you wanted to see upward so much, now you will.”
Rand clenched his fists.
The soldier led Rand, a bayonet in his back, to the front gate and tied him to it.
“Now look up.”
Fire raged inside of Rand. The rule was the most ridiculous he had ever heard in his life. The Japanese wanted so much control over them, they now told them where they could and could not look.
Crazy.
He dug his fingernails into his palm.
He tilted his head upward, the glare of the sun robbing him of the sight in his good eye for a moment. He closed his lids.
The guard struck him. “No closing eyes.”
All of this because of the natural instinct to watch a plane.
He would bake to a crisp.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Irene sat on the ground near Rand as he stared into the perfectly blue sky. He felt her presence, unable to see her below him. A group of internees gathered, most of the spectators sympathetic to his plight.
“Hey, Mr. Sterling, you have to play ball with us again.” A young boy held up his basketball.
“Kind of hard to dribble now. It will have to wait till later. Then I’m going to get more baskets than you because all I’ll be able to see is the net.”
“Bet you won’t.”
“Bet I will.”
Others in the crowd shouted encouragement to him.
He had never been one to shy away from entertaining an audience. “Rand, Rand, leader of the band, here he must stand, feet stuck in the sand.”
The crowd laughed and applauded.
“All because he looked to the sky, watching for our boys to come by, looking as they fly, in the blue so very high.”
Cheers this time. The guard crossed his arms and frowned.
“Please don’t be like me, hoping you will see, the boys that make us free, how happy we will be.”
The people roared their approval.
The guard uncrossed his arms, spread his legs wide, and screamed, “Get away. Leave now. No one here by this man.” He moved forward, and the crowd dispersed.
A few of the men called to Rand as they left. “Stand tall.”
“Hang in there.”
“Don’t give in to them.”
He stood alone, the minutes ticking away with maddening slowness. His face grew hot, his lips parched. He longed for a drink. He could see nothing but searing bright white.
Then Irene’s quiet voice from several feet away broke the silence. “I’m here, Rand.”
He had never heard a more beautiful sound in all of his life. “You didn’t leave?”
“I’ll stay as long as that guard allows me.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“You’ve been there for me when I needed you. Now it’s my turn to be here for you.”
The words washed over him like a cool shower. “You should be back at your hut resting.”
“I’ll be able to do that later. I remember those long Nebraska winters. Have you ever seen snow?”
Rand nodded. “When I was in school in California, yes. We went to the mountains to ski at Christmas. The first time I saw it I was amazed. It was cold and white and there was so much. Snow was more beautiful than I had imagined.”
“It can be quite pretty. Think of the prairie covered in white, white as far as the eye can see. And then the sun shines on it, and it sparkles like tens of thousands of diamonds. One time the boys at school teased some of the girls by shoving snow down our backs. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold in my entire life. For the rest of the day, I sat in my wet clothes and shivered, even though Miss Peters allowed me to sit next to the stove.”
He shivered along with her. “I see what you’re doing, Miss Reynolds, trying to keep my mind off of the heat.”
“Is it working?”
“Yes. Keep talking to me. I know you never knew your mother. Tell me about your father. What did he do for a living?”
Irene took a long moment to answer. “He held a variety of jobs over the years. After my mother left, he was sad and never found fulfillment in work. That’s why Anita suggested we move to Manila.”
“You never told me you lived in Manila with your father.”
“W
e weren’t here long before Father disappeared.”
“Why?”
Again, an extended silence stretched out before Irene continued. “It’s not important. One day I woke up and he was gone, a Filipina in his place. The woman took me to the mission. What really matters is that’s when Anita took me in. From that point on, I lived with her, and she was both mother and father to me.”
“That’s hard on a child.” He heard the pain in her voice and something else. A bit of fear? “I caught a man embezzling from me once, a manager of mine, and I had to turn him in despite the fact that he had a family. He disappeared before he was prosecuted. Walter Reynolds was his name. Do you know him?”
“No, no. It’s a common last name. You know, Reynoldses all over the world, and I don’t know a tenth of them. It’s a strange coincidence, nothing more. It’s not the same man. That wasn’t my father who embezzled from you.”
He hadn’t accused him of being her father. But she protested too much. Could it be?
No, she would have told him.
Two mornings later, Irene sat on the doorstep of her shanty, the one she now shared with Tessa. Her lilies were making a valiant effort at reviving after she pulled them up the day Anita died. They refused to bloom, however.
She clutched Anita’s Bible in her lap, unopened. Even without reading the words, Irene knew them. She didn’t miss her aunt as much when she touched the book Anita had touched.
How she longed for her aunt’s words of wisdom. Rand had probed close to the truth about her father the previous day. She had slipped when she mentioned that her father had disappeared. Words she wished she could take back.
If he kept asking questions, he would get suspicious and would try to find out about her father, no doubt. If only their boys would arrive soon so that she didn’t have to keep up this charade any longer.
She dreaded not spending time with Rand, not hearing his voice at her door, not seeing his smiling face each day. He kept her going when she wanted to roll over and give up.
She couldn’t tell him until they were free. He was her survival.
As if she’d conjured him up, he appeared, whistling down the street, settling on the step beside her. She couldn’t tell that he had been tied to the gate and forced to look at the sun until dusk.
“How are your eyes?” With sight in only one, his vision was precious.
He squinted, hiding his liquid-gold orbs. “I can see a fair amount, but there are still lots of spots. Or do you have chicken pox?”
“It’s the pox, and I’m contagious.”
“Then I should run away.” He made no attempt to move.
But run away he would when he discovered her secret. Or rather, her father’s secret. “Why aren’t you going anywhere?” She flashed him what she hoped was an impish grin.
He responded in kind, the lines around his mouth deepening, the skin sagging. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
He didn’t understand.
They sat for a while, enjoying the birds’ morning songs. Just his presence cheered her. What would she do if she lost it?
“Did you hear the rumors?” Rand’s voice held near giddiness.
“About the overdue rice shipment arriving?”
“That, too, but about Leyte?”
“Who hasn’t? The camp has been buzzing with it. They say some heard it on the secret radio. Do you believe that our forces have actually landed in the Philippines? This isn’t some trick?”
“It has to be true. I can feel it in my bones. General MacArthur has his feet on Filipino soil again. The end can’t be far off. It just can’t be. Maybe weeks. Some are saying that we will celebrate Thanksgiving in our own homes this year.”
Yes, Rand would celebrate it in his grand home on Dewey Boulevard. They would go their separate ways. Irene would begin her new life alone.
Yet, not quite.
She rubbed the cracked leather cover of the Bible. “I’m so grateful that Dr. Young gave this to me. I hear Anita in the words she wrote in the margins. At times it’s like she never left.”
“I’m glad you have it.”
“She was everything to me. I’d like to go thank Dr. Young. Are you up to a walk?”
He helped her up and held her hand as they wove their way through the huts of Shantytown. Their path to Glamourville took them across the main lawn. A surprising number of people filled the square, even for so early in the day. It no longer held the jovial atmosphere of the early days when there were concerts and activities, but couples strolled along and friends laughed together. Gone were the strings of lights that provided a festive feeling. Gone were the merchants selling treats. Still, the soft hum of voices filled the air.
The loudspeaker that brought them news, however censored it might be, crackled to life. The announcer cleared his voice and noted the delay of the daily announcements. “This has come a little late, but better Leyte than never.”
A stunned silence fell over the crowd. Leyte was pronounced late-ay. The Japanese might not understand the connection, but the internees did. Smiles broke out on all of those assembled.
Rand stopped and squeezed Irene’s hand. She squeezed his back. It was true. The Americans had arrived. Just having them in country brought a measure of hope and comfort. They were here. It was now just a matter of time.
No celebrations broke out among the crowd, though. How could they? The Japanese would punish them for sure if they shouted and danced and sang. No, except for the brightness of the faces, all went on as it had before.
“I told you.” Rand laughed.
Irene stroked his thin cheek, the cleft in his chin more prominent than ever with his weight loss. “That almost makes up for this.” She tipped her head toward the gate.
“The dump.” A host of military supplies littered the front lawn of Santo Tomas, including caches of ammunition. “And rumor is that the Japanese have buried huge drums of fuel outside of the gate.”
“So that if one bomb hits us, we’ll be blown to kingdom come.” Irene shivered.
Rand wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder. “Some say that the Japanese are using us as a shield. The Americans won’t bomb us, so they can concentrate their soldiers and supplies here where they’re safe. Others say they mean to …”
“Mean to what?” Her pulse throbbed in her ears. Irene wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest.
“Mean to make this place a target so the Americans will blow it up. And us with it.”
“I pray you’re wrong.”
“Me too. I’ve grown rather attached to all my body parts.”
Seeing the military dump robbed the joy of the news of the American landfall.
Rand held her a bit tighter. “Our boys will get here in time. God will bring them.”
“Like the verse Anita read to me after my escapade in Manila. God will return Israel, and they will be at rest. Or something like that. I can’t remember now.” She opened the Bible she was taking to Dr. Young and thumbed through the pages to the passage in Isaiah she wanted.
A paper fluttered out. Rand picked it up before the wind had a chance to blow it away.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know. It fell out of the Bible. I thought you had put it there.”
“No, I don’t have any papers tucked inside. Read what it says.”
He unfolded the sheet.
Dearest Irene,
As I have the nurse pen these words, I know my days on this earth are nearing an end. I will be happy to see my Savior. I worry about leaving you, but I know you will be in God’s hands. Rand is a fine young man, and I believe he is coming to see the truth. If he does, you will have my blessing.
A smile curled Rand’s mouth. “She always liked me.”
Irene tipped her head. “Keep reading.”
First, though, you must tell him the truth. It is time he knew. The hour for secrets is over. Whether there is a future for you with him or not, tell him the truth.
&nbs
p; I love you with all of my heart. I could not have loved you more had you been born from my own body. Remember to walk humbly with our Lord in all your ways.
Much love to you,
Anita
Irene’s breathing grew erratic. She ripped the paper from Rand’s hand.
He stared at her. “What is it you need to tell me?”
“I can’t tell you. Not right now.” Not when their liberation might only be weeks away.
He ran his hands through his wavy light-brown hair. “You can tell me anything. You know that. I confided in you about my daughter. I promise, whatever it is, I won’t walk away. I want to commit myself to you. Nothing you say will drive me away.”
Her entire body tingled. “I can’t. Don’t you see, even if I wanted to, I can’t.”
“It’s Covey, isn’t it?” His eyes searched her face, and she squirmed under the scrutiny. Why couldn’t Anita’s words simply have been ones of encouragement? And why did she allow Rand to read the letter?
She dragged her bakyas through the dirt. “No.”
“He’ll win if you don’t tell me.”
“Rand, you didn’t want me to badger you. Please don’t hound me. I promise I will tell you when the right time comes. But this isn’t it. Not now.”
“Now is the perfect time.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Irene stood on the front lawn of Santo Tomas, a munitions dump in front of her, the iron gates covered with sawali mats so the Filipinos couldn’t see in and the internees couldn’t see out. The crowd diminished, off to celebrate the landing at Leyte privately. Her entire body ached, and she wished Rand would go away. But that’s what she feared—that he would leave and never come back to her. He promised he wouldn’t, but he didn’t know who she was.
And once he found out, that would change everything.
She was afraid of Mr. Covey as well. The man gave her the heebie-jeebies. She rubbed her sweaty hands together.
In her mind, she heard Anita begging her to tell Rand the truth. Anita hated secrets and said that no good ever came from keeping them. She never threw Irene a surprise birthday party because of it.
But so much havoc could be wreaked with the telling of one. “You will hate me when I tell you.”