Red Sky Over Hawaii

by Sara Ackerman

  She kept listening for footsteps, hoping and praying that Grant would have a change of heart. She wanted to tell him that Coco had run away, appeal to his human side. Even if he wanted nothing to do with her, one would think he would want to help the girls. The sound of rain on the tin roof started up again, and Lana thought she heard voices. She ran to the door and pounded. No one came.

  Her thoughts turned to every bad scenario imaginable. If they kept her imprisoned, who would watch the horses? Would Mochi and Benji be able to stay hidden in the house? Could they take care of each other well enough without her help? And what about the geese? Her mind simply would not shut off, and she felt her body twisting into one big knot of misery.

  Rain dripped outside her window on the grass, and she tried to focus on that. At some point, she fell into a cold and restless sleep, waking up dazed and panicked and remembering. In the quiet hollow of night, she thought back to that first night at the house. How alone she had felt, even with a houseful of people. Back then the girls and Benji had been mere strangers. Now they were family.

  In the morning her eyes shot open. Someone was at the door, jiggling the lock. Please, let it be Grant. A man walked in. In the dim morning light, it looked like Williams. He flipped on the light and her eyes burned. He was rumpled and creased and smelled like stale bread, or maybe that was her own breath. No one had been kind enough to leave her a toothbrush.

  “Mrs. Hitchcock, sorry to keep you waiting. The Wagners were at a hearing in Hilo yesterday, and, wouldn’t you know it, a kind of illness overtook me last night and I couldn’t stay awake. You know anything about that?” he said in a slow drawl.

  “How would I?” Lana said.

  He scratched his chin. “Just thinking out loud.”

  She ignored him. “Where are the girls?”

  “The kid showed up at dusk last night, worried about her dog and her sister. Franklin brought her in.”

  Lana gulped down air. “So the girls are together? Here at the camp?”

  He nodded, and she realized he was wearing the same suit from yesterday. “With the dog. Kid threw a fit when it came to leaving the dog overnight.”

  That sounded about right. “The kid’s name is Coco,” Lana said.

  “Anyhow, I’ll need you to come with me.”

  “What about Mr. London?”

  “He stayed at your place. Hope you don’t mind. In case he needs to bring the girls home with him today. Come on.”

  “Give me a minute,” she said.

  Lana hung on the words in case. They hadn’t decided yet, thank heavens. Williams stepped out and she used the bathroom, splashing water on her face and rinsing out her mouth. She looked as though she had aged five years overnight. He took her outside and back to the first building from yesterday. Franklin was already in the room, reading a newspaper. A cigarette burned next to him. He looked worse than Williams.

  “Have the girls seen their parents?” she asked.

  “The girls are fine. And no. No visitors allowed. We told you that,” he said.

  He obviously didn’t have kids of his own. She felt carved out and empty and ready to burst into tears at any moment. A few minutes later, armed guards came through the door with two prisoners in tow. Lana looked at them and froze. This was not the Ingrid Wagner of two weeks ago. Blond hair turned to ash. Eyes smudged. Red blotches on her skin. Their eyes met. Lana fought back a sob.

  “Lana, is that you?” Ingrid whispered.

  Lana jumped up and rushed toward her, but the guard blocked her with his rifle. “No touching.”

  Fred trailed behind. If Lana had run into him on the street, she would not have recognized him. A two-week beard, hair sticking out in all directions and all hope washed from his expression. Williams motioned for them to sit. The room had a card table set up in the middle. The guards stood by the door while the rest of them sat.

  Franklin opened a manila folder. “I’ll cut to the chase. You signed temporary custody of your daughters over to a Mr. Dutch London. Mr. London reported them kidnapped, and they just turned up with Mrs. Hitchcock in a house near 29 Mile. What do the Wagners have to say?” he said.

  “Are they all right?” Ingrid said to Lana.

  “They miss you, but they’re fine. They’re wonderful girls. We have Sailor, too, of course.”

  Fred Wagner ran his hands through his oily hair. “When they took us away and had us sign papers that they wouldn’t let us read, I had no idea what was in store. I figured Mr. London could take care of the house, the girls, my business for a few days.”

  “Based on your hearing yesterday, it looks like you won’t be getting released anytime soon. But we need to know if Mrs. Hitchcock had any kind of approval for taking the girls or if it was outright kidnapping.”

  “I suggested it,” Mrs. Wagner said.

  Fred avoided looking at Lana. “I wouldn’t say it was outright kidnapping, no. But I told her Mr. London was in charge of everything.”

  “How are you all acquainted?” Williams asked.

  “My father was a neighbor.”

  Franklin flipped through his notes.

  Ingrid filled in more. “Lana’s father had just passed, and she showed up the day before the bombing. He lived next door to us, and she was at our house when your friends took us away,” Ingrid said.

  “Your father was Jack Spalding, correct?” Williams said.

  “Correct.”

  Lana expected him to say something else about Jack, but he continued his line of questioning. “Mrs. Hitchcock, how come you never told Mr. London about your plan to bring the girls up here, and then tried to pass them off as your own?”

  This whole thing was one big screwup, and Lana was growing annoyed. She could only imagine how the Wagners felt. “Because the man is not an appropriate guardian. No offense, Fred, but both girls are scared to death of him. They told me so, and I wasn’t about to leave them in his care. Nor was Hilo a safe place to be.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Williams said.

  “Who was I going to tell? Those men that took the Wagners away said they were going to question them, not lock them up indefinitely. And the whole world was upside down. The girls are safe and being well cared for and I stand by my decision.”

  Franklin took a drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke out his nose. “I guess what I really need to know is—do the Wagners want to press charges for kidnapping? And if not, who do they want the girls with?”

  Simultaneously, Ingrid said, “Mrs. Hitchcock,” and Fred said, “Mr. London.”

  Lana refused to back down. “I don’t know if anyone told you, but Coco ran away yesterday when she found out she might have to go with Mr. London. She’s back with Marie now, and safe, but that should tell you all you need to know. The girls are comfortable with me, and to move them now will be horribly disruptive. We have Sailor and the geese and there are horses at my place, too.”

  “Coco does love horses,” Ingrid said.

  Fred looked unconvinced. “And what if there’s an invasion, Mrs. Hitchcock? Are you prepared to fight off the Japanese soldiers to keep my girls safe?”

  “My father built a hideaway up here, and we have a bomb shelter and guns and everything we need. Not to mention the army unit that is set to be moving in any day now, right up the road,” Lana said.

  “Never trust a female with a gun,” Fred said nervously.

  “I could outshoot Mr. London any day, I’m sure of that,” Lana said.

  She had never fired a gun in her life.

  Ingrid surprised Lana by saying, “I’m putting my foot down. I don’t want the girls going with Dutch. They need a woman more than a man right now, and if they don’t like him, why force it?”

  Lana wanted to reach out and hug Ingrid. The pain of being separated from Marie and Coco and not knowing where they were or how they were d
oing must have been crushing the life out of her.

  Williams appeared not to care who had the girls, as long as he could wipe his hands of them. “The Wagners will need to sign papers assigning new custody.”

  He addressed them in third person, as if they weren’t in the room. Lana felt like screaming, Have some decency, man!

  Ingrid’s hands trembled on the table. “I worry how Coco is taking this. Can we see them?”

  “No visitors in the camp,” Williams said.

  The unfairness set Lana ablaze. “Funny that everyone calls it a camp. Why don’t you call it what it really is? A prison. Kı¯lauea Military Prison, that way there’s no confusion,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

  You could have heard an ash drop. No one spoke for a moment, and then Williams and Franklin both started talking at once. “It’s a holding cell, not a prison.” “They’re awaiting trial and treated decently.” “We’re doing what we must to keep the country safe.” “War has its own rules.”

  “Can they at least write them a note—is that allowed?” Lana asked Williams.

  “Generally, Nazis don’t get any favors, but since it involves kids, I’ll allow it. Make it short and in English.”

  Williams’s eyelids had begun to droop, and Lana got the sense he wanted to be done with this. He tore off the bottom of a form and pushed it to Ingrid. Her hand shook like a ninety-three-year-old’s as she wrote.

  Williams produced more forms for everyone to sign. He took the scrap of paper that Ingrid had written on, read it and then handed it to Lana. Unable to stop herself, Lana reached out and grabbed Ingrid’s hand. It was cold as snow. “Are they treating you well here?”

  She squeezed and Ingrid squeezed back. “I’ll have them write you letters and get them in here. You do accept letters, don’t you?” Lana said to Williams.

  “As long as they’re in English. And all mail is censored.”

  “I doubt that’ll be a problem, coming from an eight-year-old and a thirteen-year-old.”

  The guards led the Wagners out, and Williams walked Lana to the original bench she had sat on yesterday. Dutch London was planted on it. When he saw them, he stood.

  “So?” he said.

  Williams seemed annoyed. “The girls are staying with Mrs. Hitchcock. This has been a big waste of time. I suggest you go back to Hilo, Mr. London.”

  Dutch looked offended. “A man has a duty, Mr. Williams. I would think you know that.”

  “We’re done here,” Williams said with force.

  Lana watched Dutch’s mouth open and close a few times, and before he turned to go, she gave him her sweetest smile. “Goodbye, Mr. London,” she said.

  Williams had Lana wait on the bench as he showed Dutch out. She would be thrilled if she never saw his face again, but she worried what he’d do with the houses and business. He seemed to be the type to take advantage of another man’s misfortune.

  The storm had eased sometime in the night, though the clouds still looked laden with rain. Lana heard a door slam down the way, and voices. Then the sound of dog nails clicking on the floorboards.

  “Aunt Lana!” Coco howled when she saw Lana, sprinting down the hallway and hurling her little body into Lana’s arms. She hugged her fiercely. Coco’s hair smelled like cigarette smoke and wet dog fur. Lana stood and pulled Marie and Sailor in, too.

  “Come on. We’re going,” Lana said.

  * * *

  Lana had never been happier to return home. Hale Manu had gone from escape house to refuge to home in a span of less than two weeks. Her sense of time had been warped by the war. The minute they arrived, they rushed to the secret door.

  Lana called down, “It’s safe to come up now!”

  Benji and Mochi soon emerged, squinting into the daylight. “That was a long twenty-four hours. But Benji went out in the night and got us water and berries and honey. My boy is resourceful,” Mochi said.

  Lana recounted her story. “And I can’t believe they let Dutch London stay here. We need to wash the sheets.”

  “From the sound of it, he passed out on the floor in front of the fireplace, and Franklin couldn’t wake him,” Mochi said.

  “How do you know?” Lana asked.

  “We listened through the door.”

  Coco confirmed it. “When I came back for Sailor, he was sound asleep. He sounded like a whole family of wild pigs digging for roots.”

  Benji made a fire, and everyone crowded around the table with steaming mugs of mamaki leaf and honey tea.

  Lana pulled the note from her pocket. “This is from your mom. She wanted me to tell you that they are being treated well and have plenty to eat, and that they love you to the stars and back. And so you know, she didn’t have much time or any privacy to write this.”

  Marie took it and read, “My lovely daughters, your father and I miss you very much. We are doing well and hope to be with you again soon. I hope you are minding your manners with Mrs. Hitchcock, and taking good care of Sailor. Give each other a hug and keep your chins up. All our love, Mama and Papa.”

  When she finished reading, there wasn’t a dry eye at the table. The words hope to be with you again soon spoke to the uncertainty of the Wagners’ plight. When they would be released was anyone’s guess, but the fact that they were still being held after their hearing did not bode well. And how much to tell the girls? Lana was not well versed in raising children, but in her mind, especially after what she’d just been through, the more truth they knew now, the better.

  She put her arms around them. “Listen, no one is saying when your parents will get out, and I hope it’s soon, but if not, know that you will be with me for as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sailor seemed to think she was missing out and came and leaned into them with all her weight, groaning. They were one big pile of tears.

  THE DEPARTURE

  Heartache coated everything in the house that night, draping itself on the furniture and covering the walls. Lana felt it behind her ears and in every finger and every toe. She wasn’t the only one. Coco refused to let go of her mother’s note, reducing it to a crumpled mess.

  As she washed out the pitcher, Lana thought about the lemonade. There was something to the honey; that she knew. She was still unsure exactly what. And she was fine with that. Not everything was meant to be understood. In fact a world where everything made sense would be dull and boring. Mystery unlocks the imagination, her father used to say.

  Boy, was that the truth. There was the time Thomas Jaggar called Jack up to discuss his idea of an automobile that drove on land and sailed the seas. Others told him he was crazy, but Jack showed up at Volcano the next day. He and the boys in the machine shop worked furiously to modify a motorcar with a wooden hull and balloon tires. After months of experimentation, they named her Ohiki and announced her launching in Hilo Bay to all of Hawaii. And not only did she float, she chugged along at a whopping four miles per hour. Jack pranced around like a rooster for days after that.

  Lana felt a soft spot for him. Being at the volcano had stirred up so many memories and so many emotions that she now realized she had tucked away and kept hidden, even from herself. A talent that didn’t serve her well, she was coming to see. But Jack was spilling out everywhere here, impossible to ignore. Maybe the message was to forgive him, and, more important, to forgive herself.

  Bouts of thunder shook the house that night. Sailor left Lana’s mattress to seek shelter underneath Coco’s bed, which was where they found her in the morning. They had to lure her out with a hunk of steak.

  Tuesday was even bleaker than Monday, with the addition of fog thicker than lemon rind. After breakfast of blackberry cobbler and scrambled eggs—the only way Coco would eat them—everyone milled about the house with nothing to do. Lana had purchased Bicycle cards and a deck of hanafuda from Kano Store, but was saving them as Christ
mas gifts. Today was December twenty-second; only three days to go. The thought made Lana want to crawl back into bed. But with a whole house depending on her, it was not an option.

  Mochi, as always, was glued to the radio. The Japanese had invaded Luzon in the Philippines and were headed for Manila, and the US had expanded the draft to include all men ages eighteen to sixty-five. Closer by, citizens were debating an incident on Ni‘ihau and making a hot case for the local Japanese population not to be trusted. Many people were of the belief that if three people could be so easily persuaded to help a downed Japanese pilot, then what was to stop others?

  When the kids went out onto the lanai, Mochi sat Lana down next to him. He placed his weathered hand over hers, the coarseness of his fisherman’s skin familiar. His watery eyes looked into hers. “I’m going to turn myself in, Lana. Me being here is endangering all of you, and the war has just started. I never should have left Hilo,” he said.

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Mochi—”

  “Never mind talking me out of it. It’s something I must do.”

  His decision made sense, and she could tell he felt it was the honorable thing to do, but she was not happy about it. Especially in his frail condition.

  “When? Where?”

  “Tomorrow. Kīlauea Military Camp. It’s the closest.”

  Anything that Mochi did, he did with much consideration. And while Lana respected his altruism, she selfishly wanted him with her, with the kids. He was her calm.

  “I can take you,” she offered.

  “Drop me at the main road. I’ll walk from there. I don’t want you tied up in this mess.”

  “Grant wants nothing to do with me anymore...he pretty much said so. And I don’t care if people know,” she said, trying to sound convincing.