by Liz Tolsma
A cheer rose among the women.
Could it be? Could it really be? Irene held her breath, not daring to hope.
She got up and crowded around the window with the other women. Like ants following one another, the Japanese guards marched from the Education Building.
“Rand. He’s free.” She turned to Tessa. “He’s free.”
Tessa gave her a little nudge. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go to them.”
Though it had been just two days with a better diet, the pain in Irene’s legs was subsiding. She hurried outside and hustled to the Education Building. The internees had begun to leave as well. Where was he? She bounced up and down, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
And then, the most beautiful sight. A shock of wavy, light-brown hair all askew. A familiar, tall figure made his way down the steps. His stride was sure and confident. Some might call it cocky. He had sticks for legs and arms, but his smile lit his face.
She sped toward him, and he took her in his arms, lifting her from the ground, swinging her around and around in circles.
She laughed. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“Dizzy with love, I hope.”
“Dizzy with being near you.”
He kissed her, right out in public. Sweet, delicious, delirious. The world buzzed until he put her down on shaky legs and released her. “Look at this. We’re free. Irene, do you know what this means? It’s over. It’s all over.”
“Wait until you taste the food. The soldiers are sick of these rations they’ve been getting, but to me they are delicious. Tinned meat and fruit, powdered eggs and milk. The finest restaurants don’t have better fare.”
“Are we still talking about eating? There are a million other things I’d rather talk about. Like …”
She sent him a warning glance. Her heart was wary, afraid. Not now, not yet.
“Like when we get to leave this place.” His impish grin almost did her in.
“Manila is still in the hands of the Japanese. We can’t go anywhere right now without being shot. Our boys have told us to be patient while they clear the city. And they are clearing it. See?” She pointed at the blazing sky.
“The poor citizens. They didn’t ask for any of this. They are losing their homes, their livelihoods, everything. I meant it when I said I wanted to help the orphans and the street children. There will be so much work to do when we get the Japanese out of here at last.”
Irene squeezed his hand. “You are a wonderful man, Rand.”
“What took you so long to figure that out?”
She laughed, but she didn’t know if she would be able to commit her heart to him.
February 8, 1945
Rand scurried from Glamourville and headed to the chow line, not knowing how temporary the lull in the constant shelling would be. Santo Tomas may be in American hands, but much of the rest of the city was not. The Japanese and Americans continued their fierce fighting for the Pearl of the Orient. Santo Tomas sat as an island in the midst of all of it.
The sun beat down on Rand as he crossed the campus to the kitchen, yawning all the way. The constant whining and whistles of the shells kept sleep at bay. The sky above the city continued to glow with fire. The Japanese intended to burn Manila to the ground.
Rand hadn’t seen Irene yet today and was anxious to look at her, to touch her, to be with her. When they were apart, he missed her more than he thought possible. And if it was this bad when he saw her almost every day, what would it be like if she walked out of his life forever?
The ache in his chest grew.
He hadn’t told her about her father yet. He didn’t even know if he should. What difference did it make now? Then again, if they were able to start a life together, he didn’t want to keep information from her. Yes, he needed to tell her.
But the right moment never came.
He passed shanties with holes in the roofs and sawali mats. Between the embers from blazes across the city to the shells the Japanese continued to lob over the wall, it was amazing that none of the huts had burned to the ground yet. The fire brigade the internees had organized was doing its job well.
He walked into the open space between Glamourville and the chow line. No one stood still but all hustled, scurrying to get back under cover before the firing began again.
Across the yard, Rand spotted a woman with hair the color of Irene’s. She had the same swing to her hips as Irene did.
She hurried beside a woman with blazing-red hair.
It had to be her and Tessa. Their heads were bent together as if they shared a secret.
Irene lifted her head and laughed. Even from this bit of a distance, the music of it charmed him. She turned in his direction, smiled, and waved. His face warmed and he waved back.
Pop, pop, pop. Without warning, the gunfire resumed. The internees screamed and rushed to the nearest, safest place.
Irene took three strides in the direction of the kitchen.
A whistle.
A bright light.
Dirt and grass spewed up.
Then she fell.
Hit.
By a Japanese shell.
A rush of adrenaline surged through his body. Heedless of the firing around him, Rand shot forward to Irene’s side. “Are you hurt?”
She stared at him, her blue eyes unblinking. Her lips moved, but her throat produced no sound.
He examined her, patting her head, her arms, her stomach. The shrapnel had torn her blue dress, her prettiest. Blood poured from a wound on her leg. She looked at it and screamed.
He tamped down the panic in his chest and forced himself to breathe.
He pressed his hand to her thigh to stop the blood. It did little good in ebbing the warm, sticky flow. She needed more help than he could give. “You need a doctor. This is going to hurt, but I’m going to carry you to the hospital. Tessa, hold your hand over the wound.”
Shee-boom, shee-boom.
With the greatest of care and the utmost of speed, he scooped Irene into his arms. She weighed next to nothing, but he had little arm muscle left. He didn’t know how he’d make it to the nearby building. Shells sent up sprays of dirt and rocks.
He and Tessa dodged the shells as they trotted toward the hospital.
“It hurts. Oh, it hurts.” Tears coursed down Irene’s pallid cheeks.
“Remember the lilies, Irene, like in the Bible. God is watching over you, taking care of you.” He held her close. “We’re almost there. You’ll be fine. Don’t worry now. The doctors will take good care of you. Tessa, press harder.”
“I’m doing my best, love.”
“Hurry, Rand, hurry.”
“Just hold on, Irene. Stay with me. Don’t leave me.” God, don’t let her leave me.
He hustled as fast as his weakened body allowed.
Then she slumped in his arms.
“No!” Rand’s heart threatened to jump ship. His lungs and legs burned as he raced across the yard. Santa Catalina had never seemed so far away.
By the time he reached the door, he was panting, his chest heaving. Irene hadn’t regained consciousness. Tessa pushed the door open with her shoulder. The two of them sped to the Army doctor they spied down the hall, Irene still in Rand’s arms.
“She’s been shot. She’s losing blood. Please help her. She’s fainted or something.”
The man in the olive-drab uniform with eyes to match took Irene from Rand. “Where?”
Tessa pushed back a strand of hair with bloody fingers. “Her thigh. I tried to hold my hand over the wound to stop the bleeding, but it didn’t work.”
Rand’s heartbeat hadn’t slowed. “Is she going to survive?”
The doctor nodded in the direction of a group of chairs. “Have a seat while I take her back and examine her. We’ll go from there.” And with that, he disappeared into another room, Irene in his arms.
Rand sat in the rickety wooden chair beside Tessa, crossed his legs, uncrossed his legs, then rested his own bloody hands on
his knees. God, help her. Preserve her life. Don’t take her from me.
“She’ll be fine. Bangers and mash, she didn’t survive this long to die from a bullet now.”
“I pray you’re right, Tessa. I pray you’re right.”
The clock on the wall ticked away with maddening slowness. The time had to be wrong. Surely they had been here more than a few minutes. He stood and paced the waiting area, quiet now. Irene had been the only casualty of this round of firing.
“I can’t live without her, Tessa.”
“And you won’t have to. She’s plucky, so I know she’ll be fine.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to convince her to marry me. As soon as possible.”
“She wants to be sure you love her and only her. Not Catherine. And she wants to be sure there will never be the chance you might come to love Catherine again.”
“Jeepers creepers, how can I be with a woman who doesn’t want me?” He lowered his voice. “I don’t love Catherine now, if I ever did. And she’s made her choice. She and Melanie have a life they don’t want disturbed.”
“I understand that. Irene’s just a little more hardheaded than I am.”
“She is awake and asking for you.” The doctor’s voice startled Rand. He hadn’t heard the man come down the hall.
He turned to the doctor. “She is?”
“Yes. She’s going to be fine. You can go see her.”
“Yes, sir.” Rand followed the doctor. They had settled Irene into a sunny room, and she had an IV in her arm. In just a few days, with only a few supplies, the hospital had taken on a much different look.
The doctor ushered him in. “It’s a good thing the Army brought provisions with them. I was able to give her some blood, and she should make a full recovery very soon.”
“Thank you, thank you so much.” Rand went to her and knelt beside her bed. “How are you? Is the pain bad?”
Irene shook her head. “They gave me a painkiller so I don’t have much discomfort. The doctor sewed me up and told me I’ll be as good as new. He thinks I’ll be able to leave the hospital in a few days.”
Rand wilted. “Thank the Lord. That’s the best news.”
She clutched his hand, her fingers cold. “Just before I passed out, Covey’s face flashed in front of my eyes. Isn’t that strange? Why would that happen?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
“Rand, what aren’t you telling me?”
He shivered.
Now he needed to find the words to share with her the most shocking news of her life.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rand refused to look Irene in the eye. He studied the floor in the hospital room and the wall and the window above her head, but not her. Was the news he had to tell her so bad? Covey had been weasely, and she had to know. “Please, whatever it is, I can handle it.”
“I’m not sure. You’re weak. You’ve lost so much blood. Perhaps when you’re stronger, in a few days.”
Had he decided to go back to Catherine after all? The thought robbed the breath from her. She squeezed his hand tighter. That would be the worst possible scenario. She braced herself for whatever he had to say. “I’m fine.”
“You fainted once today already.”
“I’ll faint from anxiety if you don’t tell me. Secrets aren’t good. We’ve learned that we can trust each other and walk through anything that comes our way. That proves our strength.”
“This has nothing to do with me. Not much, anyway. It may not have anything to do with us.”
In addition to being confused, now she was frightened. She turned to face him better, her leg throbbing as she did so. She settled in and caught his gaze, his soft brown eyes unblinking. “Please.”
“Give me a minute.”
He didn’t hesitate this much when he told her about his daughter. What was going on?
She lay back against the pillows. A few minutes passed, then Rand touched her cheek. “Covey isn’t his real name.”
“Is that all?” She sat up. “You frightened me, and it turns out to be nothing more than Covey has an alias? Is it all that surprising?”
Rand’s lips curled upward the slightest bit. “Let me finish.”
She nodded and clamped her mouth shut.
“I don’t know why I didn’t put it together earlier. The nose, the eyes, his story. Your story.”
“You’re talking in circles again.”
“He’s your father.”
Her head swam. She must have heard him wrong. That had to be it. “My … my … father?”
“Yes. He lost a great amount of weight, he’s partially bald, and that scar and broken nose changed his appearance. But he’s your father.”
Irene brought Mr. Covey’s face to her mind. She examined it. Rand was right. He had her nose and their eyes were identical in color. She grasped the edge of the sheet. “The man who stole from you.”
He nodded. “He told me when we were holed up with the Japanese. He asked me not to say anything.”
“Thank you for telling me now.”
“But there’s more.”
She didn’t like the paleness of his face. “What?”
“He’s gone.”
She pulled her eyebrows together. “Gone? As in to-the-hills gone or …?”
“He was hit when our boys shelled the building the night they arrived. Without medical care, the wound became infected.”
She wiped away the single tear that fell. “He didn’t have the courage to tell me who he was.” She tugged the sheet so hard she was afraid she would rip it. “He must not … must not …” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Pain exploded in her chest at the thought that her father hadn’t loved her.
“In his own way, he loved you. He broke down when he told me who he was. He was sorry for using you the way he did. He understood that greed blinded him. But he wanted it all for you, to be able to provide for you.”
“I would have rather had a father in my life, no matter how poor we were. He should have taken me with him when he left.”
“What kind of life would that have been for a child? Hiding out, moving from town to town when my investigators got close. He would have had to take you out of school and away from friends over and over. He did what was best for you under the circumstances by leaving you with Anita.”
“Is it wrong to be angry with him?”
Rand rubbed her hand. “No. But don’t stay angry with him. While I sat in that Education Building, I discovered the freedom of forgiveness. Freedom that transcends these walls. A Japanese soldier wanted to befriend me. I refused, until he asked for forgiveness. God forgave me, Irene, of sins as heinous as those the guard committed. If God could forgive such a sinner as me, shouldn’t I forgive the soldier? It took courage to say the words, determination—with God’s help—to mean them. But the release was amazing.”
“So you’ve forgiven my father too?”
“I don’t condone what he did, but I’ve forgiven him.”
“He doesn’t deserve it. He left his thirteen-year-old daughter alone.”
“None of us deserve God’s forgiveness. The Bible says to forgive because God forgave us. It doesn’t say anything about deserving it or even asking for it.”
For years the thought of her father made her sick to her stomach. She hated him for leaving her. Alone. With no mother. Just an aunt who lived in the jungle.
Forgive him? Not for a very, very long time.
Chapter Forty
Mercedes sat on the front step of the Main Building, enjoying the warm early morning. The sun rose over the still-smoking city. Sporadic gunfire broke the stillness, though it was farther away. The soldiers had begun to allow some Santo Tomas residents to leave the shelter of the compound.
Paulo ran around on a small patch of grass, playing tag with an invisible friend. Already he was healthier and stronger, and he grew in confidence each day. He ran to her and slapped her arm. “You’re it, Mama. Now you have
to catch me.”
She chased after him, pretending she couldn’t reach to tag him. After a few minutes, she stopped, her hand on her knees. “I give up. You are too fast for me. You win. Now I must sit down and rest.” Laughing, she returned to the step.
Paulo came and wrapped her in a bear hug. “When I go to Grandpa and Grandma’s house in America, will you play tag with me there? And Grandma and Grandpa too?”
She slicked back his curly, dark-brown hair from his sweaty face. “Of course we will. Papa told me they have a big lawn with plenty of room for a little boy.”
A voice behind Mercedes startled her. “You’re going to Charles’s parents?”
Mercedes held her hand over her heart. “Irene, I didn’t see you coming.”
“We’re going to see Grandpa and Grandma in America. They have a big house, and I will have a room of my own. I never had one before.”
Mercedes crinkled her forehead at her son’s words. “Of course you did. Don’t you remember our house before the war?”
“Mama, I was only four years old.” He stood with one hip jutted out. “I just remember packing to come here.” The boy kissed Mercedes on the cheek and scampered off in an attempt to catch a butterfly.
Irene sat beside Mercedes, covering her knees with the hem of a red dress Mercedes had never seen. The Red Cross had sent them clothing.
Mercedes clasped her hands. “It’s for the best.”
The two women sat in awkward silence for several moments.
“Paulo seems excited to go.”
“He is. And so am I. No one there will know my past or what I did during the war. It will be a fresh start for us. If I stayed here, I would be shunned by my old friends.” Like Irene shunned her. She took a deep breath, the smell of smoke still heavy in the air. “And what will be left of my home, if anything? I don’t have the means to start over here. There, Charles’s parents will help me. They will get us settled and help me find a job.”
More awkward silence. Mercedes swallowed hard, her words barley a whisper. “You know, I did it all for him.” She tipped her head in Paulo’s direction. “You don’t understand a mother’s love until you have a child. He’s all I have left of Charles. I couldn’t bear to lose him too. I had to protect him. Maybe I didn’t go about it the best way—”