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

  When he stepped back, I asked him what had happened.

  “The Japs came through first, setting fields on fire, slaughtering animals,” he said. “They moved quickly, so there were no deaths. But then the Huks came, demanding everyone in the barrio pay them honor. They claimed the barrio as their own. Father stood up to them.” Jabol stepped around me and looked down on his father with admiration. “He was the first of many to die.”

  I put a hand on Jabol’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “And Malaya?”

  Jabol turned and found my gaze. “I am not sure. She was not here at the time.”

  Relief washed over me, and I turned my back to them to gather my emotions. Malaya, Jabol’s sister, had given me strength when I’d had none. Without her, I’d be dead for sure. All I could do now was hope and pray she was safe.

  Chapter Three

  Ruby

  February 1, 1945

  Houston, Texas

  “And Gamma and me made a bed for Belteen,” Hope said as she followed me around the table.

  “Grandma and I,” I said.

  “Momma, you weren’t there.”

  I set the last plate down and smiled at her. “No, sweetie. I meant that the proper way to say it is, ‘Grandma and I made a bed for Velveteen.’ Understand?”

  She wrinkled her little nose and considered my correction. Then she shrugged and went right on with her story as if I hadn’t interrupted her, following me around the table for the second time. I set the silverware in place and did my best to keep up.

  “Gamma made a dress for Belteen, too. See?” She lifted the bunny into the air by its throat.

  “I see.”

  “And Belteen took a nap wid me…I mean, Belteen took a nap wid I.” She stopped walking and looked up at me in the most serious fashion a two-year-old could manage. “Momma, that don’t sound wight.”

  I giggled as I set the last place at the table, then I bent down and motioned for her to come to me, wrapping her in my arms. “It’s a bit confusing, I reckon. But you’ll soon learn the right way to say it.” I kissed the top of her head. “You’re right. It should be, ‘Velveteen took a nap with me.’”

  I was about to give her a tickle, when a knock pounded on the front door. My heart leapt into my chest at the same time as Mrs. Sawyer came around the corner. Her expression reflected my own fear, and I stood immediately.

  Neither of us said anything. We didn’t have to. She walked with deliberate steps to the front door, her body stiff as she opened it. Footsteps flew down the stairs, and I glanced over to see Jillian descending with the baby in her arms.

  “Is someone at the door?” she asked, her voice low but tense.

  “Yes,” I said. “Your mother is speaking with them.”

  Jillian came over beside me and we both kept an eye on Mrs. Sawyer’s back. Her posture relaxed, a signal that it wasn’t a military officer with a life-altering telegram in hand. My heart continued to thunder a few moments more, as Mrs. Sawyer closed the door and came toward us with a box in her hand.

  “It’s all right, Jillian,” she said. “It’s just a package for Grace from Mike. You can go on back upstairs and finish getting the baby down for his nap.”

  Jillian bounced little George, Jr. in her arms. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. She nodded and headed back up the stairs, probably to join him in his nap.

  Mrs. Sawyer brought the box from Mike over to the table, her face still ashen. “I swear, I think I’d rather he not send any more packages if it’s going to give everyone a heart attack every time there’s a knock at the door.”

  She dropped into a chair and pushed the box toward me. I felt like I should apologize, but I wasn’t sure what for. I took the seat next to her and tore open the box. Inside I found a letter, two small jars of macadamia nuts, and a small box addressed to Hope all sitting atop some kind of garment on the bottom. I pulled the items out, unfolding a blue halter-top dress covered in white flowers.

  “Momma, it’s so pretty!” Hope said, running her hand along the fabric.

  “It certainly is,” I said. I glanced at Mrs. Sawyer. “He shouldn’t have. I couldn’t wear something like this.”

  Mrs. Sawyer smiled. “Hold it up, dear, and let me see it.” I did so, and she nodded her head. “It would look wonderful on you. Just the style these days for girls your age.”

  Hope shook one of the jars of nuts. “What is this?”

  “Gifts from Uncle Mike, sweetie,” I said. I handed the smaller box to her. “This one’s for you.”

  She pulled the top off and gasped. Inside was a matching set of a bracelet and necklace covered in tiny shells. “Momma, I got pretties too! Can I wear them?”

  I helped her put the jewelry on, and Mrs. Sawyer and I admired them with the proper amount of excitement. “We’ll have to write Uncle Mike a letter and thank him,” I said.

  Mrs. Sawyer stood, her usual joyful demeanor restored. “I best get back to the kitchen before I burn up supper. You girls enjoy your gifts.”

  Hope handed me a jar and asked me to open it. I twisted off the top and let her grab a few of the nuts, taking a small handful myself. “Why don’t you go show Grandpa your pretties?”

  Hope climbed down from her chair and ran down the hall toward Mr. Sawyer’s study. I waited until I heard her excited voice talking up a storm before I opened the letter. I grinned at the sight of his sloppy handwriting. I’d teased him numerous times about not being able to read his letters, so he tried harder to be neat. Fortunately, I’d grown use to making out illegible handwriting while working at the hospital.

  Dear Grace,

  I hope that you and my little bunny are doing well. Tell Hope I’m searching all over Hawaii for a bunny to bring home. None are willing to cross the ocean as of yet, though. I’m sending her some genuine Hawaiian jewelry so she can play dress-up in style. I sent you something for playing dress-up too. I hope you’ll put it on and go out on the town with Jillian. You girls need to have some fun.

  On a more serious note, I’m sorry for leaving things between us a little strained. You know I just want you and Hope to be happy and to have the life you deserve. I think you know in your heart Matthew would want that for you both. Just think about it. Maybe once the war is over, we can finally make peace with everything that’s happened.

  We’re shipping out soon, but I’ll write again when I can. Take care of yourself, and give Hope a kiss for me.

  Be seeing you soon,

  Mike

  After supper, I helped Mrs. Sawyer with the dishes while Mr. Sawyer took a turn reading The Velveteen Rabbit to Hope in the living room. His voice deepened as he acted out the part of the wise old skin horse, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I think he enjoys that story as much as she does,” I said as I took a plate from Mrs. Sawyer and began drying it with the towel.

  She smiled and paused, listening as well. “I think you’re right.” She went back to her washing, and I watched her for a moment, wondering how to broach the subject that had been on my mind all during supper.

  “I hope you know how grateful I am,” I said. “You all opened your home to us and welcomed Hope and me like we were family.”

  She gave me a warm smile as she handed me a plate and a glass to dry. “Don’t even mention it, dear. We love having you both. Harold is just tickled to death over Hope.”

  I put the dishes in the cabinet, feeling my stomach knot. “The hospital has offered me a position once I finish my exams.”

  Mrs. Sawyer dropped her dishrag. “Oh, Grace! That’s wonderful news!” She wrapped her dripping hands around my neck and we both laughed. “Sorry,” she said, stepping back. “I’m just so proud of you.”

  “I couldn’t have made it through the last couple of years without you taking care of Hope while I was working and studying.” Mrs. Sawyer turned back to her washing, her smile still lingering, and I tried to find the right words. “But I was thinking that once I get started with the new position,
I should look for a more permanent living situation.”

  This time when she let go of the rag, she removed her rubber gloves as well. “What’s this? Why would you go and do a thing like that? You and Hope are welcome to stay here as long as you like. There’s no need to think about placing any extra burdens on yourself.”

  “It’s just…”

  “Just what?” she asked, her eyes so warm and trusting.

  “Well, with Jillian and the baby here until George comes home, I just figured you would want to spend more time with them. I don’t want to be a burden. And now that I’ll have a steady income, I can pay for a place for us to live.”

  “You have a place to live right here, for as long as you want.” She lowered her chin and gave me the no-nonsense expression she usually reserved for Harold. “Does this have anything to do with Mike? He mentioned he thought he might’ve upset you before he left.”

  “No, it isn’t Mike.”

  “I’m not blind, you know. I see you two together.”

  My defenses began to mount. “Mrs. Sawyer—”

  “Oh, I know, I know. You can tell me all the same excuses you’ve been telling me for years. But at some point, you need to accept the truth God has given you about your situation. Holding on to hope is a good thing, until it becomes an excuse not to live your life or take chances on loving again.”

  “I understand—”

  “Well, I certainly don’t,” she interrupted again. “You have people here who love you. Who accept you as part of the family. And my son, who loves you, and loves your little girl as if she were his own. You can’t tell me you don’t care for him as well. I have eyes. I see how you smile at each other. He brings out a joy in you that no one else seems to manage. Why can’t you give him a chance? Give all of us a chance?”

  I’d been doing my best to hold back tears, but they slid down my cheeks anyway. “I do love all of you,” I managed. “I really do. I wish I could make you understand just how much. And Mike is…he’s a wonderful friend, and I do care for him. But my heart still belongs to Matthew. It always has.”

  She pulled me back into her arms and patted my back. “Oh, Grace. I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry, dear. Let’s just forget all this nonsense for now, all right? You and Hope stay right here as long as you want. And we’ll be whatever kind of family God intends for us to be.”

  I closed my eyes and prayed for wisdom. This lovely, kind, generous woman had no idea who was standing in her kitchen. How could I continue to live this lie?

  ***

  “Momma,” Hope said as she peered up at me from beneath the covers. “You been crying?”

  I bent over and kissed her forehead. “Just a little. Nothing to worry over.”

  “You miss Daddy again.”

  “Yes. Very much.”

  “And Uncle Mike?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Uncle Henwy?”

  “Yes, sweetie.”

  She squeezed Velveteen up under her chin, and her eyes closed slowly before popping open again. “Pray, Momma. You tell God. He helps.”

  “You want to pray with me?” She nodded. I gently pushed her brown curls off her forehead and prayed. “Dear God, thank You for Grandma and Grandpa. Thank You for Aunt Jillian and Uncle Mike, for a warm home and good food.”

  “And Belteen,” Hope said with her eyes closed.

  “And Velveteen. Thank You, Lord, for Your goodness and mercy. We ask that You watch over Daddy and Uncle Henry. Please keep them safe and bring them home as soon as possible. Please be with Uncle Mike and Uncle George, and all the other men and women around the world who are away from their families. Please bring peace to the world. Thank You for Your blessings, and please forgive us for our sins. In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.”

  Hope’s breathing was already deepening as I finished. I brushed my hand over her hair one last time. Then I dropped my head onto my hands as I continued to kneel by her bed.

  Oh Lord, I come to You with such a heavy heart. You know the burdens I carry, despite my best efforts to give them over to You. I’ll never understand Your ways, but I have promised to follow Your leading. Please guide me now. I feel such a strong desire to protect the Sawyers from the consequences of my past actions, and yet I know that Hope needs a family. I suppose I need one too. Am I being selfish? I know in my heart I’ll someday have to face the conviction hanging over me, and I will face it with as much strength as You will give. But what about Hope? What about the Sawyers? Won’t I just be hurting them by allowing them to believe I’m someone I’m not?

  I reached for a handkerchief from the side table and wiped away the tears from my face. My heart filled with a longing for Matthew and Henry that physically ached in my chest. Oh, Lord, please bring them back! If only they were here, I could figure all of this out. Please, can’t You bring them home to us?

  The thoughts that often haunted me in my darkest moments once again whispered doubt and fear into my mind. Matthew was gone. Henry was gone. I was on my own. And one day, Mike and his family would find out everything as well. And then I’d truly be all alone in the world.

  Chapter Four

  Matthew

  February 2, 1945

  San Miguel, Philippines

  Within two days of setting up our guerrilla headquarters at Meycauayan, I received an order to report to MacArthur’s command post in San Miguel, a small town about ninety miles north of Manila. As Diego and I rode north in the jeep sent to retrieve me, I wondered what I might say to MacArthur when I finally met him face to face.

  Before the war, I’d only held the general in moderate regard. During our desperate days on Bataan and Corregidor, my opinion took a nosedive when he left us to fend off the brutal bombardment of the Japanese. But the people of the Philippines held on to his promise to return like a life preserver and, over time, I’d come to greatly respect the man’s determination to come back for us. It had become a faintly growing light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

  When we arrived at the whitewashed building in San Miguel, Diego stepped out of the jeep and walked with me to the front door. “You want me to come inside, Major?” he asked, eying the sentry at the door with suspicion.

  “No. I’m fine. Relax for a bit, why don’t ya?”

  “What is this relax you speak of?” He offered me a tense smile with his salute.

  I shook my head at him and returned the salute. I gave my name to the sentry, and he saluted as well before passing me in. The duty officer seated at the desk looked up at me and did a double take.

  “May I ask whom you’re here to see?” he said, looking at me as if I were lost.

  “General MacArthur,” I replied.

  He looked me up and down with concern. I couldn’t help but note that the young man filled out his crisp uniform quite nicely, as if he’d eaten a regular meal every day of his life. I could barely remember what it felt like to be satisfied after a meal. I must have looked like a threadbare scarecrow.

  I was keenly aware that my faded fatigues and decaying boots spoke ill of my station, but there was nothing to be done about it. So I held my head as high as I could without feeling dizzy.

  “You’ll need to speak with Colonel Watson first,” he said, pointing at a phone behind his desk. “You can call him from there.”

  I stepped over to the phone and lifted the handle to my ear. After a moment, a rigid voice came on the line. “Colonel Watson.”

  “Sir, my name’s Major Matthew Doyle. I was ordered here to speak with—”

  “Yes, yes. I’ve been expecting you. Come on up.”

  I headed up the stairs to his office, where a young lieutenant awaited me at the door. He opened it right away, and I stepped into what must have been the office of the previous business owner. Bookshelves were stocked full of items and boxes of papers were stacked along the wall to my left. Maps cluttered the desk and the wall off to my right.

  Colonel Watson came out from behind the d
esk and gave my hand a rigorous shake. “Major Doyle, welcome. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  He looked me over just as the duty officer had and appeared to come to the same unfavorable conclusion. “I apologize for the state of my appearance, sir,” I said. “I haven’t had a proper change of clothes in a couple of years.”

  Something shifted in his expression, and he pressed his mouth into a line before barking for the lieutenant to return. Then he looked at me and asked as if it were more of a command. “What can I get you while you wait for the general? Anything. You name it. A drink? A smoke? I can get you whatever you’d like.”

  My face warmed as I thought of the one thing I’d craved most often in my dreams. I felt like a kid hoping for a treat. “Sir, would it be possible to have a bit of ice cream?”

  His stern mouth broke into a grin. “Of course! Lieutenant, get Major Doyle some ice cream!”

  ***

  When Colonel Watson delivered me to General MacArthur’s office, the general strode over to me, gave my hand a firm shake, and then patted my back so hard I almost coughed up the ice cream I’d inhaled earlier.

  MacArthur was an imposing figure. Though he was an inch or two shorter than I, his broad shoulders dwarfed my emaciated frame, and his direct gaze commanded respect. His khaki uniform was perfectly pressed, leaving me feeling like a beggar in the presence of royalty. But he soon put me at ease and led me to the sofa near his desk where another officer stood waiting on me.

  “This is General Dorsey,” MacArthur said. “He’s head of our intelligence here, so he’ll be sitting in on our little meeting.”

  I acknowledged the recently promoted general and shook his extended hand. “It’s good to finally meet you, Major,” he said. “Your work here with the guerrillas has been invaluable in preserving the lives of Americans and Filipinos alike. Your country owes you a debt of gratitude.”