Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 8

  I met many other American soldiers recovering from wounds and illnesses that ranged from concerning to downright deadly. Some seemed eager to recover and join in the effort to disrupt the Japanese operations. Others were so listless and defeated, all they wanted was to find a nice Filipino family to hide them until the war was over.

  Henry and I went inside one hut about six down from ours. Inside, I met a short, but muscular former Filipino scout whom Henry introduced as Raul Diego. I shook his hand, making note of the strength in his grip.

  “Diego says he’ll go with us into the mountains and find the guerrillas,” Henry said.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “We haven’t decided to do that yet.”

  “I think that’s our best option.”

  “That may be true, but we should at least discuss it. There could be serious consequences.”

  “Fine,” Henry said. “We’ll discuss it. But for now, let’s talk to Diego here and see what he knows.”

  I turned to Diego. “You know the area well?”

  “Sí, Captain Doyle. I know very well. I was child in mountains.”

  “You speak Spanish?” I asked.

  “Sí.”

  “I thought everyone spoke Tagalog,” I said to Henry.

  “Actually, Spanish is the official language. A lot of natives speak Tagalog still.”

  “I speak all,” Diego said, his chest puffed out.

  “You speak Japanese too?” I asked.

  “No. But I can hear many Japanese words.”

  I glanced over at Henry, who was smiling at me as if to say, “See?”

  “All right,” I said. “We’ll discuss what we should do. Either way, Diego might be able to get us to our destination. Are we sure we don’t want to stay here for a while and see if we can join up with any other Americans?”

  Henry shook his head. “Nah. There’s some other bigwigs in camp making a hullabaloo about following rank protocol. Some sergeant wants to tell everyone what to do, but a lot of the guys ain’t having it. Alapa wants to keep the camp a place to rest and heal, so the sergeant is trying to get men who are well enough to make a camp further east. I say we keep our party small for now and try to get deeper into the mountains. Less chance of getting caught. Then we can join up with the guerrillas.”

  I offered a hand to Diego, feeling my strength waning. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  “Sí, Captain,” he said, saluting me instead.

  “It’s just Matthew,” I said. “None of this Captain stuff.”

  Diego maintained a steady gaze up at me, and I could see he had much more inner strength than I did at that moment. “Captain Doyle,” he said. “I must treat you with respect, sir. I will call you ‘Captain’ or ‘sir.” He paused. “Sir.”

  Henry was obviously amused by this. “Yes, Captain Doyle. We must treat you with respect.”

  I didn’t have the energy to participate in any further discussion. I said goodbye to Diego and headed back to my palette for some rest.

  ***

  That night, I awoke with an urgent need to relieve myself, which I suspected was due to an oncoming kidney infection. I slipped out as quietly as I could and made my way into the cogon grass about thirty yards from our hut. From this distance, I could see most of the camp in the moonlight, noting that someone should let Alapa know that it needed more camouflage. Sentries were posted at a fifty-yard perimeter around the camp, with a few more lookouts spread around about a kilometer out.

  But they proved to be useless.

  While I was relieving my infected kidneys, I heard shouts and then the rat-a-tat of rapid gunfire. My heart lurched into my throat as I dropped into the grass without thinking. There was more shouting, more gunfire, and a blaze went up near the far side of camp.

  I knew I had to run, but I couldn’t just leave Henry behind. I crawled through the grass as quickly as I could, reaching the edge of the small field. There was another ten yards for me to cross in the open to get to the hut, where my weapons lay as well.

  I decided to make a run for it, but as I neared the hut, Henry came barreling around the side, running right for me. He shouted for me to run, waving his arms toward the direction I’d just come from. I turned around, and by the time I got my feet moving in the right direction, Henry was right behind me.

  I managed to run for a short while, tripping three times and landing flat on my face. But I kept moving, afraid to stop and look back. We hurtled along a path that paralleled the stream near the camp, eventually breaking away from it to head up a steep slope.

  “We need to get to higher elevation,” Henry said. “Better cover up there.”

  I looked down and realized I was still shoeless, and my feet were throbbing from multiple lacerations. I began to drop behind, eventually unable to see Henry in front of me. “Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice low enough not to draw attention. “I can’t…I’m too weak.” I stopped altogether and dropped to my knees.

  Henry came back through the palm trees and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. “If we can get just a little higher, there’s a good place to spend the night. Come on. You can do it.” He helped me get upright again, this time moving at a slower pace through the thickening foliage.

  By the time we made it to the place he’d spoken of, he was practically carrying me. It was a ridge on the mountain, about a third of the way up. From the edge, we could look down and see the light of the fire still burning at the camp and hear the gunshots. But away from the ridge, near a steep incline of the mountain, there was a fairly shallow cave covered with vines. I had to admit, Henry had done some great reconnaissance.

  “This will do,” he said. “We’ll hide out here until dark tomorrow. Get some rest.”

  My body was willing, but my mind raced through what had just happened. The adrenaline crash left me with a headache and knots in my stomach. My hamstring was on fire. All I could do was lie in the dark on the hard-packed earth and thank God once again for rescuing me in the nick of time.

  ***

  The next morning, I awoke to a string of whistles that sounded like birds, but not quite. I leaned up on my elbow in time to see Henry crouched beside the entrance of the cave. He let out a string of whistles as well.

  Deciding it was best to remain silent, I crawled over to the opposite side of the entrance from Henry. A few seconds later, more whistles came from outside, closer than before. Henry whistled in return.

  A few seconds more, and a shiny blade eased through the vines. Henry looked ready to spring. Then Diego slid through the vines. Henry straightened, and his face broke into a smile. “I knew you’d find us.”

  “Camp is no more,” Diego said, not returning the smile. “All gone or captured. Japanese all over.”

  “We need supplies,” Henry said. “How many of them are there? Think we can sneak in and grab a few things?”

  Diego held up a cloth sack he’d been carrying. “Already have supplies.” He glanced over at me. “And shoes for you, Captain.”

  “Thanks,” I said, gingerly sliding my right foot into a boot. It was two sizes too large, but with my feet still swollen, it would do.

  Diego tossed a canteen of water at me and looked up at Henry. “We must go. Japanese all over area. Es muy peligroso.”

  “Listen, Diego,” Henry said. “You can’t be rattling off things in Spanish. Me no comprendo.”

  Diego sighed and tried again. “We must leave now. Japanese come this way soon.”

  “I understood that perfectly,” I said.

  “Me too,” Henry said. “Guess we better get moving. Lead the way, Diego.”

  Chapter Nine

  Ruby

  May 1, 1945

  Train to San Francisco

  Another telegram from the army arrived, telling me that Matthew would fly in to Fairfield-Suisun Army Air Base outside of San Francisco on May 2. There’d been no mistake. He was alive, and he was coming home. I’d been waiting so long to receive word of this very thing, b
ut now that it was true, now that we would be a family again, I felt like my world had been shaken once more. How sick was he? How long would he be in the hospital? Where would we live when he got out? How would we face my murder conviction? There were so many questions I had no idea how to answer.

  I had only a few days to buy a train ticket, find a place to stay, and request leave from my job at the hospital. I was sure I would run into a roadblock at work, seeing as how I’d only been employed a few weeks, but my supervisor, Ms. Wharton, had a son in the service, and was sympathetic to my situation. She’d hugged me with tears in her eyes, telling me to take all the time I needed to bring my husband home.

  Then I contacted Coach Frank Hudson in San Francisco to see if I could spend a night or two with him and his wife. He had coached Mike and Henry in the minor leagues, and had helped us out before. Once again, he came through when I needed him.

  So on the morning of April 30, I boarded a train in Houston bound for California, the same train Henry and I’d taken just over eight years prior. My body and mind were exhausted, but come nightfall, I couldn’t sleep. I lay in the lower bunk of the sleeping car watching the stars streak by the window, wondering what it would be like to see Matthew again. I played the scenario out in my mind, picturing us hugging each other until we couldn’t breathe. Then my thoughts would wander to Hope. Because I had no way of knowing what awaited me with Matthew, I’d decided to leave her back in Houston in Mrs. Sawyer’s capable hands. But I missed her warm, tiny body curled up beside me. What would she think of having her daddy home?

  As the train rattled westward, I gazed out at the night sky and imagined us all together as a family, playing at the park. She’d finally have her daddy to push her on the swings, and I could admire them laughing together.

  Other thoughts played around the edges of my imagination as well: thoughts of injuries, illness, and the aftermath of war; thoughts of Henry still missing; thoughts of prison and the electric chair. I had to push those thoughts away, all of them. They served no purpose in the present. I would simply have to trust in God to help me face whatever lay ahead.

  As I prayed for peace, God once again brought His beautiful Word to my mind, a passage from Philippians.

  But this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded: and if in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you.

  Coach Hudson picked me up at the train station late that evening, greeting me with his usual warm hug and cheerful demeanor. He was stocky, graying around the edges of the high-and-tight he still maintained from his days as a marine. I couldn’t remember where he was from, somewhere in the Midwest, maybe Indiana, and he had a matter-of-fact approach to life, religion, and politics, though he rarely discussed any of them.

  Coach Hudson had met his wife, Jun, while he was stationed in China in the early 30s. She was quiet and courteous, and she always wore a smile. She was so thoughtful that she seemed to know just what you needed before you even knew you needed it. Once when I was trying to help Henry with a paper for his degree, she’d shown up at our little shack of an apartment with a platter full of dumplings and kung pao chicken. It was my first experience with either dish, and I fell in love with both.

  When we arrived at their home on the northern outskirts of San Francisco, Mrs. Hudson greeted me at the door, and immediately I smelled the food. “Oh, Mrs. Hudson, something smells wonderful!” I said. “I hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”

  She dismissed the thought with a wave. “No trouble at all. Come settle your things and we will eat. You must be hungry.”

  She showed me to the guest room, and we spent the rest of the evening catching up and reminiscing over supper. Coach Hudson seemed particularly upset that Henry had been caught up in the terrible events in the Philippines. My best guess was that he’d been captured when Corregidor was surrendered and was currently in a POW camp somewhere in Japanese territory. “My aunt received a telegram telling her he was missing in action,” I told him. “There’s just so many different things that could mean.”

  Coach Hudson puffed out some smoke he’d inhaled from his cigar. “Henry’s tough. He was a bit of a clown at times, but he set his mind on becoming a pilot, and he did it. If he sets his mind on surviving the Japs, he’ll do that too.”

  “Well, knowing Matthew’s alive gives me hope for Henry too.”

  Mrs. Hudson stood from her chair next to the fireplace and cleared her throat. “Can I get you something else?” She seemed tense from the conversation. I wondered how the war in the Pacific had affected her family and friends. Maybe she’d lost loved ones too.

  “No, ma’am,” I said. “But I would appreciate it if you would let me help with the dishes.”

  She wagged her finger at me. “No. This is not right. Where I come from, guest enjoy meal and company. That is all. You rest. Tomorrow is big day.”

  “Will you and Matthew be staying here tomorrow night?” Coach Hudson asked. “Or will you catch the train right away?”

  “The train leaves in the afternoon, but I’m not sure how late we’ll be getting back from the base. Would it be all right if we stay an extra night if we miss the train?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Our house is your house, Grace. You’re always welcome here.”

  ***

  May 2, 1945

  Fairfield-Suisun Army Air Base

  I stepped out of Coach Hudson’s green Chevrolet and took a moment to steady myself. My heart pounded and I couldn’t seem to slow my breathing. When I slid my hands down my dress to straighten out the wrinkles, they were shaking.

  I bent down and glanced in the rearview mirror, dabbing at the corner of my eyes. They were already damp and bloodshot. What would Matthew think when he saw me in such a state? I’d wanted to look nice for him, but my mascara was already starting to smear. Maybe makeup wasn’t the best idea on such a day, but it was too late to do anything about it.

  I fixed my hair and face as best I could, reapplying a slick of lipstick before I shook my head at my appearance. It would have to do. I straightened and met Coach Hudson’s concerned gaze. “You all right?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Just a bit anxious.”

  “Understandable.”

  It took me another moment to get my bearings. Henry had trained here, but it had been several years since I’d been to the base. I spotted the headquarters building off to my left, and headed there first to find out where I was supposed to wait for Matthew’s plane.

  After receiving some general directions to the waiting area from a gruff commander, I made my way over to the hangar, with Coach Hudson hanging back to give Matthew and me some space. I stood alongside five other women in my same condition, three with small children clinging to their legs. We managed tight smiles at one another, but there seemed to be an understanding among us that we needed to concentrate all our efforts on not falling to pieces. My thoughts drifted momentarily to Hope, and I knew I had done the right thing in leaving her in Texas.

  “Is that the plane?” someone asked.

  We all turned to the sky, peering at the dot approaching from the southwest. My heart renewed its thundering pace. My mind filled with the images I’d fought so long to forget: Matthew’s eyes gazing down on me as he made me promise to get on the plane; a kiss before running down the dock toward the approaching Japanese. He’d turned to me one last time. I’ll be right behind you! Even in that moment, had he known he wasn’t coming back?

  The plane carrying Matthew touched down on the runway. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see him through the tiny windows along the sides, but I couldn’t help myself from trying as it rolled past us. The entire group turned as one to watch it taxi over toward the hangar where we waited. Then the plane just sat there staring at us, almost as if to say, “Well, here I am. Now what?”


  Within a few moments, a crew from the hangar pushed a rolling stairway up to the door. Our anxious group edged closer to the plane. The door swung open, and a tall figure in fatigues appeared at the top of the stairs. My heart skipped a beat before I realized it wasn’t Matthew.

  The young man, and several more after him, came down the stairs and were greeted by exuberant women and children. I could only glance at them for a moment, because my eyes were glued to the door of the plane. I made my way through the reunited families to the bottom of the stairway. What if there had been a mistake? What if Matthew wasn’t on the plane? Or worse, what if he wasn’t really alive?

  My stomach swam with the thought. After every other woman in the group had found her soldier, I stood alone at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. And it felt as if I was right back in that plane on Mindanao, waiting and watching for Matthew to come running back to me. He hadn’t come. And the thought that kept running through my mind over and over was, He isn’t coming this time either. I was going to be sick.

  Just as I was about to storm the plane to find him myself, there he was. He stepped through the door and looked around at the group below him until he found me. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming his name, and a sob burst out of me. He gripped the railing and took his time coming down the stairs, never taking his eyes off me. He didn’t smile, but I could see there was a storm of emotion swirling through him, just as there was inside me.

  When he reached the bottom, he barely got his hat off before I was in his arms, sobbing into his chest. He staggered back a step, but his arms were sure. Holding me fast to his thin frame, he mumbled reassuring words into my hair as he kissed the top of my head. “It’s all right. Everything’s all right now.”