Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 3

  My throat was so knotted up, I could barely answer. “We’ll see.”

  Hope leaned forward and lowered her voice as she spoke to Mike again. “You bwing me bunny fwom the jungle. Momma will be okay.”

  Mike turned and looked at me over his shoulder, his mouth smiling, but his eyes still showing his sadness. “I’m sure your mother will be just fine.” Turning back to Hope, he tapped his finger on her nose. “But you better keep an eye on her for me. She might need some hugs.”

  “Okay,” Hope said seriously. “I have good hugs.”

  “Yes, you do. Can I get one now?”

  She grinned and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. He held her close for a minute before giving her a tickle. She giggled and let go, nearly collapsing on the deck. Mike stood and looked back at me once more. “Goodbye, Grace. You take care, all right?”

  “Be safe,” I managed. “And stay out of trouble.”

  ***

  That night after her bath, Hope climbed into our shared bed with an exhausted smile. I put the package I’d brought home with me that afternoon in her lap. “You have one more birthday present. This one’s from me.”

  She reached inside and pulled out the book I’d gotten her, gasping as she ran her hand over the rabbit on the cover. “What does it say?” she asked.

  “It says, The Velveteen Rabbit.”

  “Oh, can we wead it?”

  “Of course, sweetie.” I walked around to my side of the bed and climbed under the covers with her. Then I opened the book and read the story to her. She listened intently, and at the end, she pulled her stuffed bunny into her lap.

  “I want to name him Belteen,” she said.

  “I like that,” I said. “Maybe Velveteen will become real one day if you love him enough.”

  “I hope so,” she said, turning onto her side and tucking the rabbit under her arm.

  I leaned over and kissed her goodnight. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

  She was fading fast, but she looked up at me through heavy eyelids. “Tell me about Daddy again.”

  I pushed her hair off her forehead. “You’re very tired tonight. You had a big day. I’ll tell you tomorrow night.”

  “Does he miss me?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Does he know it’s my bird day?”

  I shook my head. “We’ll surprise him.”

  Her eyes drifted closed, and her breathing deepened. I ran my hand gently over her hair, praying that somehow Matthew was still out there, fighting to get back to us.

  Chapter Two

  Matthew

  January 8, 1945

  Leper Colony, North of Manila, Philippines

  As I paced around the cramped hut overlooking a steaming hot rice paddy, I deflected the looks of irritation from Bruno, who stood near the entrance with his arms folded across his broad chest. Every time I coughed or rubbed at the pain in my side, he’d clear his throat and raise his right eyebrow. I’d scowl at him and ask if he could see any of the men coming. He’d scowl right back, duck his head out of the opening, and come back to his stance with a grunt that I was supposed to interpret as a “no.”

  After almost half an hour of this routine, I lost the small amount of patience I’d been clinging to, and I threw one of the two bamboo chairs in the hut against the wall. Pain nearly split my midsection wide open, and I dropped to one knee.

  Bruno was beside me in an instant, his large, heavy hand across my back, his deep voice in my ear. “You must be careful, Major. You are not yet healed.”

  I couldn’t breathe, so I couldn’t answer. It was a good thing, because I probably would’ve spewed venom at him. I was tired of his babysitting, and most of all I was tired of him being right. I knew I needed rest. I needed a lot of things that weren’t possible right then. But what was possible was that my men would show up with the radio. After the nightmare I’d gone through to acquire that thing, it had better still work.

  At last regaining my breath, I pushed myself up to standing. I shoved Bruno’s hand away from my back. “I’m fine.”

  He glared at me with dark eyes that could see through my pretense. He’d been unimpressed by my rank since the moment we’d met, and he didn’t hesitate to speak his mind. It was what had made him both a great doctor and an annoying companion. Still, when my mind was clear, I knew I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Bruno.

  I shouldn’t be alive at all, I thought. I’d lost count of how many raids from the Japanese I’d survived, this latest one being the most costly yet. Only a third of my men had shown up at our new camp so far.

  Raul Diego, who’d served as my bodyguard for nearly three years, pushed his way into the hut, followed by my second in command, Arnold Harris. Our radio operator, Kiko, followed him inside, placing the radio onto the table. Diego turned to me, reading Bruno’s expression and mine.

  “You all right, Major?” Diego asked in his thick Spanish accent. I nodded, but he turned to Bruno for confirmation. “Why is he not resting?”

  Bruno huffed. “You think I not tell him? You try!”

  Diego was nearly six inches shorter than I was, and it was almost amusing to watch him glare up at me. His size was deceptive, something I’d witnessed him using to his advantage while swinging his deadly bolo. I wasn’t about to get lectured by my own men, so I changed the subject.

  “What took so long? How many made it to camp? Is the radio damaged?”

  Harris turned his head over his shoulder toward me. “The men don’t want to come into camp. They say it’s too close to the colony.”

  Bruno nodded. “They would rather fight the Kempeitai than risk touching a leper.”

  “Lucky for them the Kempeitai are just as afraid,” I said. “That’s what makes this location perfect.” I didn’t mention it was about the last place left on Luzon for us to hide out from the special group of Japanese soldiers organized from the infamous Kempeitai specifically to hunt down each member of my guerrilla organization. Not even the loss of their commander had slowed them down, and they’d been far more successful in the last few weeks. I was thankful for a place to regroup, even if it was among a colony of lepers.

  I had to admit, I was also nervous about making my headquarters here. The only knowledge I had of the disease was from stories in the Bible. The doctor in the colony had assured me that it was not easily contagious, but all the same, the men preferred to make camp as far away as possible. Part of me had empathized with the poor souls I saw working in the gardens, their disfigured limbs wrapped in dirty bandages. I remembered how lonely I’d felt when I’d been isolated with tuberculosis. Everyone had been scared to be around me. Except for Ruby.

  The thought of her flashed through my mind, as it did in the most inconvenient moments. But I quickly pushed it aside. I’d trained my mind so well over the past three years that I’d almost forgotten what she looked like. It was disconcerting at first, like losing her all over again, but allowing myself to dwell on hopes for the future made me weak, vulnerable. And that would put more than my own life at stake. Only the present mattered. Because with the Kempeitai hunting me down, if I lost focus for even a moment, there would be no future. I’d seen that too many times already.

  “We’re all set,” Harris said. He stood and gestured for me to inspect the radio. Kiko scooted in front of it and began adjusting the dials.

  I leaned onto the table and looked over his shoulder. “Is that from a bullet?” I asked, pointing at a rip in the metal housing.

  “Yes, Major,” Kiko said quietly. “Garzon passed it to me as he was hit.”

  No one breathed for a long moment as the news sank in. “How many men did we lose?” I asked, looking at Harris.

  “Twenty-two enlisted,” he answered. “Three officers. Garzon, Medrano, and Dayo.”

  I swore under my breath as I straightened. “Harris, you’ll need to make a record of our losses.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s get this p
iece of junk up and running again.”

  We’d been able to establish contact with MacArthur’s headquarters in Australia in June of 1944. Up to that point, it had been a harrowing task to locate one. Losing the radio now would be devastating. I watched and waited, stood, leaned over Kiko as he tinkered with the nobs, stood again. Nothing was happening. Then the ground beneath me swayed. I didn’t fall, but only because sure hands grasped my elbows.

  “Major, you must rest,” Bruno said from my right. “Your wound will get infected.”

  “Listen to him, Major,” Diego said from my left. “We will alert you when we have established contact.”

  I jerked my elbows away. “I’ve had enough of you two babysitting me. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  “No,” Bruno said. “I did not work so hard to save your life time and again, only to have you die here in the leper colony.”

  I’d stopped admonishing him for refusing to address me properly. He wasn’t military, and he wasn’t going to give in. Still, I wasn’t going to be treated like a child either. I was about to dismiss all three of them when the radio finally crackled to life. I’d never been so happy to hear static.

  The mood in the hut lifted, and I clapped Kiko on the back. “Good job, Lieutenant. Inform me the moment we re-establish contact with MacArthur.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kiko said.

  I eyed Bruno and Diego with triumph, and then I ducked out of the opening into the fresh air. My body hurt all over, especially the incision in my side where Bruno had removed my appendix only a few weeks before. Despite the hot, humid air, I felt a chill run through me. Fever. Infection. A battle I’d been fighting so long, I couldn’t remember what it felt like to be healthy. But I wasn’t about to lose now with the American advance so imminent. I hadn’t received official word, but it was the only explanation for the massive movement north by the Japanese, as well as the desperation in their latest attacks on our guerrilla forces.

  I made my way to my personal quarters, a hut that was a bit larger than the others, but a hut all the same. I went over to the pallet made from blankets I’d been given by the doctor in the colony—they’d received a thorough cleansing by Bruno—and I laid down for a short rest. It seemed like I’d just closed my eyes when Diego shook me awake. No doubt, he’d been standing guard outside the entire time.

  “Major, we’ve received a message from MacArthur.”

  I sat up and gave the earth a moment to stop swaying. Then I grabbed my pistol and followed Diego back to the communications hut, where Harris placed a piece of paper in my hand. I read it out loud.

  MacArthur to Doyle. Start immediately. Destroy enemy communications, railroads, rolling stock and trucks, planes in concealed areas, ammunition, oil, and supply dumps. Unleash maximum possible violence against the enemy.

  I looked around at the grinning faces of my most trusted men, knowing I was grinning as well. It was official. The Americans were coming.

  ***

  January 31, 1945

  North of Manila, Philippines

  Over the past three weeks the Americans had swept through the southwestern side of Luzon, from Lingayen Gulf, taking back Clark Field and Bataan on their way toward Manila. Guerrilla units that had trained for two years, quietly awaiting their chance to exact revenge on the Japanese, unleashed a torrent of violence as soon as I passed on MacArthur’s orders. Most of the Japanese forces had already moved to the mountains in the northeast section of Luzon, but the guerrillas and the invading Sixth Army wiped out pockets of soldiers with relative ease.

  With the flurry of activity came a concurrent flurry of intelligence that needed to be relayed to MacArthur and his generals for their approaching assault on Manila. Our tiny communications hut near the leper colony was abuzz twenty-four hours a day, with couriers coming in and out of the camp at all hours. It was both invigorating and exhausting. I’d only dared hope these days would come, when I could finally fight back, and my American patriots would surround me with the strength I needed. But I was so malnourished, so sleep-deprived, and so ill; I could barely stand for more than a few minutes at a time without some form of medical intervention from Bruno.

  One morning, just as the gray light of dawn crept into my quarters, I heard a commotion outside. I jumped to my feet, just as Diego, who’d been quicker than I, darted out of the door with a pistol in each hand. I grabbed my rifle from beside my pallet and went outside to find a group of my men huddled around a filthy, bloody figure on the ground.

  Bruno and Diego scooped up the Filipino man, supporting him beneath his arms. Harris peppered him with questions, with Diego translating, but he seemed oblivious. His head lifted, looking around in a daze. “I…need…Major Doyle.”

  I recognized him. I couldn’t remember his name, but I knew his face. He was a cousin to the Baon family from a barrio just outside of Manila. They’d become an integral part of my intelligence network, and had come to mean a great deal to me. With the most recent attack on our position, my thoughts immediately flew to the Baons’ safety.

  I strode over to meet the group as Bruno and Diego began to carry the battered man toward the camp. I came alongside them, my heart pumping hard against my chest. “What’s happened?” I asked.

  He looked sideways at me, blood mingling with mud and running down the side of his dark face. “Huks.”

  Diego met my gaze, and I nodded my acknowledgment. We’d been getting reports of the Huks taking advantage of the devastation the Japanese were leaving behind as they retreated. The native group of communist sympathizers moved in and seized the land, demanding allegiance and taking prisoners of anyone who resisted. Others who had supported us were simply killed. They were just as brutal as the Japanese, maybe worse in my book because they preyed on their fellow Filipinos.

  Once the man was settled on a cot in the infirmary, Bruno went to work patching him up. I motioned for Harris and Diego to join me outside. Diego came at me with a look of warning. “Major,” he said. “I know you must be concerned, but we can’t—”

  “I’ve gotten word from MacArthur that we’re to be transferred under the command of Lieutenant General Walter Krueger of the Sixth Army. I plan to contact him today and let him know we’re moving our headquarters.”

  “Moving headquarters?” Harris’s eyes widened. “Where?”

  “Meycauayan.”

  Diego dropped his head, shaking it with disbelief. “As I said, I know you are concerned for the Baon family. But if the Huks have taken over the barrio, we are walking into a bloodbath.”

  “I have to agree,” Harris said. “Probably best we join up with the Americans and start taking the fight to the Japs. Let the Filipinos handle the Huks.” I caught the look of surprise from Diego. I couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had agreed about anything.

  “General Beitler will be in Manila with the 37th Infantry within days,” I said. “If we move to Meycauayan, we can clear the way for them. It will be all the easier for the Americans to take back Manila.”

  Diego knew when to press his case, and when to take orders. He nodded his head. “Yes, Major.”

  Harris was a different animal. “Major, with all due respect, I think we’d be making a mistake. I realize you have strong ties to the people in the area, especially the Baon family—”

  “Captain Harris,” I shot at him, “your opinion has been duly noted. We will be moving headquarters to Meycauayan today.”

  Harris narrowed his eyes, his freckled face turning just a slight shade of red. “Aye, aye, Major Doyle. I’ll pass the word along to the Lieutenants. We’ll set out after breakfast.” He held my gaze a moment longer, an undercurrent of resentment radiating from him, before he snapped his body around and marched toward the rest of the camp.

  “Best to watch your back with that one,” Diego said. “He only looks out for himself.”

  I acknowledged the warning with a curt nod before making my way to the communications hut, where I ordered my message sent t
o Lieutenant Colonel Krueger informing him of our intentions. After that, I returned to my quarters to pack my few belongings. Within the hour, the entire camp of forty men had shoved down their breakfast and packed up for the journey south. It would be a long, dangerous hike.

  ***

  We snaked along familiar paths and streams that I’d come to know well in my travels between our various camps and Manila. Every barrio we passed was deserted, many of them pillaged and burned. Rice paddies were left abandoned. Vegetable gardens, stripped of every source of food, lay trampled underfoot. Each time we passed through one, my mind grew more anxious, and I prayed for the safety of the people I’d come to care about so deeply.

  After a long day of hiking, fueled by my worry, I nearly collapsed when we reached the Baon barrio, only a few kilometers north of Meycauayan. My men fanned out as soon as we reached the main path that spread through the barrio in three lanes. Diego, who had not left my side for a moment, sensed my exhaustion, and lightly gripped my elbow. He’d know where I wanted to go, and I let him support me as we made our way to the center of the barrio.

  Like all the others, the little nipa palm shack was completely ransacked. Most of the huts were empty, and a few held only crying old women. The stench of death hung all around us. As Diego approached the Baon family’s hut, he directed the three men in front of him to clear the surrounding area for any dangers. We stopped just outside the opening and called out for Dakila. There was no answer.

  I stepped away from Diego’s support, steeling myself for what I might find inside. Lowering my head, I entered the hut. I could smell the body before I saw it. Dakila Baon, chief of the barrio, my friend and most loyal supporter, lay on the ground unmoving. I fell to my knees beside him, placing my hand on his broad chest, and bowed my head.

  “Thank you my friend, for being such a true companion. I will remember you always.”

  I heard shuffling behind me and jumped to my feet. I pulled my pistol from my waist as Diego stepped in front of me. But it was only Jabol, Dakila’s son, who came into the hut. I dropped my weapon and embraced him like a brother while he quietly assured me he was all right.