Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 19

  He left before I could say anything else.

  ***

  Matthew

  Outside, the air was still and muggy, not exactly the refreshment I was looking for. But it was better than being cooped up in the bedroom with Ruby picking at the wounds I’d so carefully covered. I took a seat in a lawn chair and propped my feet on another, dropped my head back, and closed my eyes.

  The door creaked behind me. No doubt it was Ruby coming to save me from myself. I didn’t move. Just waited to hear her voice. But it wasn’t her voice I heard.

  “Mind if I join you?” Mike said from beside me.

  I opened my eyes and sat up. “Sure. Have a seat.”

  He took the chair across from me where I’d propped my feet and held out a pack of cigarettes. “Want one?”

  “No thanks. I don’t smoke.”

  “That’s right. I knew that, I think.”

  He lit his cigarette and took a drag, blowing the smoke to the side. I could sense he wanted to say something to me, but he didn’t. He just sat there quietly smoking and looking up into the sky. Silence was fine and dandy with me, so I slid back down a bit and rested my head on the back of the chair, closing my eyes once again.

  We sat like that for several minutes. Maybe even half an hour. I tried to clear out the images of my dream, focusing on making them as small as possible in my mind. I shrunk them down until they were as small as the head of a pin. That’s how I dealt with these things in the jungle, anyway. It worked. Well, it worked long enough to get me through the next conflict. But here, there was no enemy I could see, no target at which to aim my gun.

  “You’re not the only one, you know?” Mike broke the silence. I sat up as he lit another cigarette. Reckoned he was ready to talk.

  “How’s that?” I asked.

  “You’re not the only one having nightmares. I’ve seen it a lot. Even had a few myself.”

  “Have you awakened to find yourself pointing a gun at your friends and family?”

  “Not exactly,” he said, chuckling a bit. “But I have fallen out of my cot a few times trying to dodge incoming fire from zeros flying right at me.”

  I shared his chuckle. “Guess that’s all over now. Just can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

  “Yeah, coming back is hard. The people you care about have all stayed the same. They’ve gone about their lives at the factory or on the farm. They’ve watched some newsreels and think they know what war is like. But no one really gets it.”

  “Grace does.”

  He met my gaze. “Yeah. You’re right about that.” He sucked on his cigarette for a moment before continuing. “She was pretty shaken up when we got to Australia. I thought she was going to shoot me between the eyes if I didn’t refuel and fly her straight back to Mindanao.”

  “That sounds about right.” A sudden ache for a beer came over me. “I’m gonna grab a beer. Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  I went to the kitchen and pulled out the six-pack of Budweiser. It only had four in it, but that would be plenty for the two of us. On my way back outside, I passed Mrs. Sawyer rocking Hope in the living room. She lifted her brow, but didn’t say anything.

  I sat back down and handed a beer to Mike, then opened mine and took a long gulp. I needed to ask Mike some questions, but before I could handle the answers, I needed to swallow a little courage. So I finished the first beer before I began.

  “Listen, Mike. I want you to know I appreciate everything you did to get Grace to safety. Not to mention finding her a place to live where she and Hope would be accepted and loved.” I popped open a second beer and took another swallow. “But I have to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.”

  Mike took a big gulp of his beer as well. “If you’re wondering if anything ever happened between me and Grace, I can assure you that you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He leaned forward onto his elbows. “She was always thinking of you. Always doing everything she could to find out where you were. Even after Dorsey tried to convince her you were dead, she never gave up hope that you and Henry would come home safe someday.”

  Henry’s name dug a hole in my chest. I took another swig of beer, feeling its effects relaxing the tension in my neck. Maybe this would be easier than telling Ruby.

  “I guess Grace hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet. Henry died in the Philippines.”

  Mike dropped his head into his free hand and swore under his breath. He stood and paced the deck. “Are you sure?”

  “I was there when it happened.”

  He swore again and dropped back into the chair, where he downed the rest of his beer. “How did it happen?”

  I shook my head. “We were running a guerrilla operation in northern Luzon. Japs ambushed us at a barrio. Killed almost a third of my men, including Henry.”

  “Does Grace know?”

  I nodded.

  “She must be devastated. You and Henry were her entire world. Well, until Hope was born.” He let out another slew of curses, got up and went back to pacing. I was surprised to see such a strong reaction from him.

  “I take it you and Henry were close,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, we played ball together for a few years. Joined up about the same time and all. Then we both wound up stationed in the Philippines. He was one of the best friends I ever had.”

  “Me too.”

  We both grew quiet, and I thought about all the times Henry had saved me, or lifted my spirits, or just made life in the jungle bearable. That hole in my chest grew, so I tried to fill it with the rest of the beer in my hand.

  “Well, I don’t mean to be insensitive,” I said. “But…how well do you know Grace? I mean, has she told you much about her past?”

  He stopped pacing and set his empty bottle on the railing nearby. “I know who she is,” he said quietly. “I’ve known for a long time.”

  I was afraid of that. But I also didn’t want to give away more information than he already knew. “What do you mean you know who she is?”

  “Henry told me, back when they first came to San Francisco. We were out one night having a good time, and I guess he had too much to drink. He told me all about how his sister, Ruby, had been convicted of a murder she didn’t do. Said the police believed she was dead, and they were starting a new life.”

  Now it was my turn to pace. “I don’t believe this. After all his…he’s the one who spilled it. Perfect. So now you know.” I was already planning our departure. We would have to leave first thing in the morning. Fleeing with a two-year-old wouldn’t be easy.

  “Look,” Mike said. “Henry didn’t even remember telling me.”

  “Well, isn’t that a relief! I wonder how many more people he told.”

  “What I’m trying to say is that her secret is safe with me. I haven’t told a soul.”

  “Not even your parents?”

  “Especially not my parents. I haven’t even told Grace that I know. I would never hurt her. She means the world to me.”

  I stopped pacing at the way he’d said her name. “Wait a minute. She means the world to you? Do you have feelings for her?”

  “I already told you, nothing happened.”

  “But not because you didn’t want it to. Admit it. I can see it. I can hear it in the way you talk about her. You fell in love with her.”

  “I think she’s wonderful. She’s smart; she’s kind; she’s—”

  “—beautiful.”

  “Yes. Inside and out. She’s amazing. But she’s not mine. She never was. And I know that.”

  This guy was killing me. Could he be any more noble? He probably thought of himself as Lancelot, and Ruby was his Guinevere. I wondered just how close they had become in the years I’d been missing. But I snapped my mind back to the pressing matter.

  “Tomorrow, we’re packing up and leaving,” I said.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere remote. Somewhere far from here, hopefully, where no one will know who she
is.”

  “I’ve already told you, you have nothing to fear from me. Don’t uproot her and Hope. I swear, Matthew. You can trust me.”

  “Trust you? With her life? Did Henry tell you what her sentence was?” I didn’t wait for his reply. “It was the electric chair. The electric chair. Can you imagine her getting electrocuted?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then you understand why we have to be careful. Leaving here ain’t about whether or not I trust you. It’s about doing everything I can to ensure she and Hope are safe.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “All right. I get it. I’d probably do the same in your shoes. Just don’t rush into anything. You’re all safe here. There’s no hurry.”

  I went back to where I’d been sitting and popped open the last beer. Walking to the edge of the deck, I stared out over the rows of backyards surrounding me. There were too many people. And they were too close. At first light, I was heading out to find a home for the three of us. Maybe Mike was right. Maybe we could trust him. But it wasn’t worth the risk. Especially with Ruby so willing to walk right into the fire and turn herself in. Was I the only one who saw the danger ahead?

  ***

  I spent the next couple of weeks searching for both a job and a house. The two promising positions had come to nothing—returning GIs were swarming the job market, and even with preferential status, I was having a hard time finding anything in the construction or engineering field. I even branched out and began looking for positions that had nothing to do with my training.

  It just didn’t make any sense. There were job openings. I saw them in the paper every day. I saw posters in windows that advertised openings. And other GI’s were getting hired. I knew this because I tended to be the very next person to inquire after a job once it was filled. I can’t say how many times I walked into a place, sat down to fill out an application, and some person from management would walk out and announce the position had been filled. I started to get a sense that this was no coincidence, like some force was working against me.

  I couldn’t say the same thing for house hunting. There just weren’t any houses to be had. The very few on the market were priced so high, there was no way I could afford them. Not even with the GI Bill helping out.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. The GI Bill was a great help to most of us coming back from the war. Just not for me. The benefits helped many of my fellow soldiers go to college and get degrees, but I already had mine. I had the degree, I’d worked in the Corps of Engineers, and I had leadership experience. By all accounts, I should’ve been all set to re-enter society.

  But as Ruby would’ve pointed out if I’d brought it up, God often has different ideas for us than we have for ourselves. By the last Friday in July, I felt like I’d been banging my head against the same wall for days on end. To make matters worse, Hope hadn’t come near me in nearly two weeks. She cried anytime Ruby put her down on the cot to sleep, so I wound up sleeping on the sofa downstairs. Once Mike returned to San Francisco, I moved to the sleeper sofa in Mr. Sawyer’s office. Being awakened each morning by his cheerful whistle only made me more anxious to find a home.

  As I sat on the bus that afternoon, heading back to the Sawyers’ from another long, fruitless day, I stared through the rain cascading down the window as the city rushed past. I couldn’t take care of them. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ruby and Hope were slipping through my fingers. And every time I thought about it, my chest would tighten, and all the symptoms from my breakdown would flood my mind. Was I really so fragile? Why couldn’t I just toughen up and handle this?

  The bus stopped to let passengers on and off, and I caught sight of a church on the corner. Ruby’s words came to me. Prayer doesn’t change God; it changes you. I felt drawn to the church, and at the same time, I resisted it. If God hadn’t answered my prayers in the jungle, when lives depended on it, when I needed Him the most, why would He answer my prayers now?

  Still, the pull on my heart was something I hadn’t felt for a very long time, not since I’d joined up with the guerrillas. Maybe I should just check out the church. I exited the bus and pulled my jacket up over my head. Rain poured down as the people around me dodged the puddles on the sidewalk.

  I made my way to the end of the block and jogged up the steps to the front doors. I tugged on the one in the middle, slowly opening it to the large foyer. I stepped inside and shook off the rain, half expecting someone to come over and tell me I couldn’t be there. But the place remained quiet.

  I ventured over to the open door leading down the middle aisle of the sanctuary. I wasn’t alone: a few souls were scattered in the pews, most with their heads bowed. I felt like I was trespassing somewhere sacred. My heart was full of anger and bitterness. How could I bring those feelings to God? What could I even say to Him? How was I supposed to praise Him, or thank Him, or enjoy His presence in any way? I was lost. And I was certain there was no place for me in that sanctuary.

  I turned around and headed back out into the rain, determined I was going to find a way to take care of my family, with or without God’s help. I would make it happen, somehow.

  ***

  By the time I made it back to the Sawyers’ house, I was soaked down to my underwear. I took a quick shower and put on some dry clothes before heading downstairs to find the rest of the family. I found Mrs. Sawyer in the kitchen preparing supper, and the smell made my mouth water.

  “Have you seen R—” I stopped myself, irritated that I had to constantly remember to call my wife by her other name.

  Mrs. Sawyer had the oven open, and she was leaning over a large pan of roasting vegetables. She flipped the last of them over and slid the pan back into the oven. “I’m sorry, Matthew, what did you ask me?”

  “I was looking for Grace. Do you know where she is?”

  “The girls took Hope and George, Jr. out shopping. Of course, that was before all this rain started. I expect they’ll be home any time now.”

  “All right. Thank you. Supper smells delicious.” I turned to leave, but Mrs. Sawyer stopped me.

  “Oh, wait a minute. I nearly forgot. You got some mail today. Come on in here, and I’ll give it to you.”

  I followed her over to the console table in the foyer, where she handed me several envelopes bundled together with a rubber band. The top letter was addressed to me, with a return address for Mary. My heart sped up. How would Mary know where to find me?

  “Thank you,” I mumbled to Mrs. Sawyer as I took the letters upstairs to our bedroom.

  Once I was alone, I pulled off the rubber band and examined the envelopes more closely. The top letter was dated only a couple of weeks ago, and she had addressed it to me at the hospital. That gave me a moment’s relief. At least she didn’t know where we were staying.

  I flipped through the other envelopes, a collection of letters from Mary dating back to just before the fall of the Philippines in 1941. There were six all together. I sat on the edge of the bed staring at them, wondering if I should even read them. After all, I’d decided the best thing to do was to cut off contact with my family.

  The first five were between December 1941 and August 1942. I figured those would be the most difficult to read. They would be full of worry and fear, and most likely my mother’s passing. I couldn’t bring myself to read those just yet.

  So I opened the most recent letter and began reading.

  Dear Matthew,

  Seeing you alive and (mostly) well was the most wonderful blessing I could have asked for. I’ve prayed for you every day since you left home, and even though you haven’t come back to us, I’ll take your safe return to the States as answer to my prayers.

  I assume you won’t be in the hospital forever, so when you’re released, please send me your new address so that we can keep in touch. I don’t ever want to lose you again. You mean so much to me.

  I’ve told everyone that you’re alive. Of course, they all wan
t to see you for themselves. I’m not pressuring you. I just wanted you to know that you are loved dearly and missed. You should have seen the joy in Father’s eyes when I told him…

  I stopped reading the letter at that point. Just sensing the pain and hope behind Mary’s words was difficult enough. I wasn’t about to read anything having to do with Father. I skimmed over phrases.

  …eager to welcome you home…

  …Father’s doctor says…

  …he regrets everything…

  I got past the paragraphs about Father and picked up my reading there.

  Your nieces are desperate to meet their uncle, about whom they’ve heard countless stories. Their favorite is the time you took me on the Ferris wheel at the county fair. Do you remember? I was only seven, and you had just turned eleven. You were so mad that Mother had forced you to ride the Ferris wheel with me when you wanted to ride with your friends. So you put me in the seat, slammed the bar shut, and sent me off on my own! I was terrified! I could hear you and your friends laughing in the chair behind me, but I was too scared to turn around. The worst part was when the wheel stopped, and I was swinging so high above the ground, I could have sworn I could see clear to Atlanta!

  I was finally unloaded from that torture, and I took off to tattle tale on you. But I was so scared and angry, I got confused and lost. I sat down on the ground and cried because I just knew I’d never see my family again. Do you remember what happened next? You found me. Do you remember what you did? You took me over to the games and shot basketballs at the hoops until you won me the prize I wanted.

  I’ll never forget that day, not because you were mean to me (that wouldn’t be the last time), but because I realized that even when I didn’t like you much, you would be there for me if I truly needed you. I grew up believing that with all my heart. Don’t you see? By leaving everyone behind, you’ve left yourself behind too. Come home, Matthew. Come home, and find yourself again.