Tracie Peterson (4 page)

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “I just hope you’ll stay.”

David wasn’t at all prepared when she came to him and kissed his forehead. It was nearly his undoing. He could abide her tears, but her touch . . . No one had touched him in years. No one except those
who sought to harm him, or in the case of Kenny, who would help him after he’d had too much to drink. But this touch of tenderness—a compassion that joined him to this woman like a mother to a son—was something he’d never had.

“Good night, David. If you need anything at all, please come get me. There’s fresh water there in the pitcher and a clean glass if you should get thirsty. It gets cold in the night, so I put a couple of extra blankets on the bed. Just kick them down if you get too warm.” She gave him a motherly pat on the arm. “We’re so glad to have you here.”

David bit his lip and looked away. He waited to let out his breath until Ruth had departed the room, closing the door behind her. Suddenly he felt nine years old again. He felt all the longing and pain of a motherless child resurface. He wanted to run to the door, to beg her to come back. He wanted to curl up beside her and let her sing him lullabies and promise him that the monster who lived under the bed would not hurt him.

He touched his hand to the closed door as if to somehow connect himself to her. She had said she was glad to have him here. She had asked him to stay.

“You wouldn’t be so happy to have me here if you knew the truth about me,” David said in a hoarse, tight voice. “You wouldn’t want me here if you knew all the things I’ve done.”

“We’d better get down to the flower shop,” Ruth told Rachel after supper concluded the following evening. “David, would you like to walk with us? It’s not too cold outside and the evening looks to be pleasant.” Rachel seemed to watch him with hopefulness—or was that just his imagination?

“I suppose I could,” he replied, pushing back from the table.

“Helen, you take care of the dishes so that your father can get out back and work on the car,” Ruth ordered in her gentle way. “Marion, we shouldn’t be all that long.”

“I’m sure you’ll be done before I will,” the man muttered. “Can’t figure out what’s wrong with that rattletrap, but I’m not bested yet. Bob’s coming over to lend a hand. We ought to be able to figure it out betwixt the two of us.”

Ruth grinned and leaned toward David. “Bob is the neighbor across the alley. He’s half deaf and Marion’s eyes aren’t what they used to be. It should prove for an interesting time.”

David couldn’t help but smile. He’d smiled more in the last two days than he had in the last three years. It was easy to be happy with the Bennetts. When Rachel suddenly appeared at his side offering him his coat, however, David’s smile faded. Her beauty intimidated him. Such sweetness. Such innocence. Her powder blue eyes were wide with anticipation, and he could tell that she had placed more than a casual interest in him. Maybe it was just his connection to Kenny, but maybe . . .

Stop fooling yourself, David. She couldn’t possibly care about someone like you. You’re no good. You don’t even have two good arms
.

He frowned and took the coat, then noticed that her expression had changed to one of hurt and confusion. He realized she had taken his frown for disapproval.

“It’s just my arm,” he assured her quickly, not willing to let her feel bad.

She nodded. “I’m sorry that it causes you so much trouble. Can the doctors do anything to help?”

“They give me medication,” he said. “That helps some.” His gaze fixed on her compassionate expression. Maybe she really did care. It was with this thought that David suddenly realized that Rachel’s hand lingered atop his own. His heart skipped a beat and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
She does care
.

“Well, if you two are ready,” Ruth declared as she pulled on her scarf, “we’d best get to it.”

David followed the women outdoors and listened to their animated conversation about Christmas and the little town of Longview. He struggled to put his air of self-confidence back into place.

“We just had the Reynolds Metal plant come to town,” Ruth told David as they enjoyed the brisk walk. “It was looked at as a godsend because jobs were so scarce during the depression. Now there’s plenty of work for everybody.”

“They even wanted me to work there,” Rachel chimed in. “But Pop doesn’t like the idea of ladies working in factories.”

“It’s all right for women to work,” Ruth countered. “It is for the war effort, after all. Your father merely thinks you can be more help at the flower shop. The nursery requires a great deal of upkeep, and the vegetable and fruit plants grown there will help the war cause as much as working in a factory.”

“I didn’t know you had a nursery,” David said, enjoying the casual conversation. “Kenny never said anything.”

“Kenny never knew,” Ruth said matter-of-factly. “The shop came under our care early this year.”

“I suppose flowers and vegetables are better to work with than machinery and metal,” Rachel replied. “A bunch of my friends have even gone up to Seattle to build bombers for the war,” she said almost wistfully.

Secretly David was glad she hadn’t been allowed to venture off. He would never have gotten a chance to meet her if she’d taken up residency in Seattle. He cast a quick sidelong glance at Rachel, amazed at the way her face seemed to radiate such joy and peace, even in the midst of telling a tale where she wasn’t allowed to have her own way.
She seemed a reasonable and responsible young woman, so different from the women he’d known all of his life.

“You know what your father would say to that,” Ruth said with a teasing smile.

“Boy, do I ever,” Rachel replied, not sounding in the least bit angry. “‘Rachel Bennett,’ ” she said, lowering her voice to mimic her father, “‘what in the world would you want to do a fool thing like that for? Suckers are born every minute. Don’t want it said that any daughter of mine is a sucker.’”

Rachel and Ruth chuckled, then Ruth added, “He just doesn’t want to see you hurt. He believes strongly that the war will be over soon.”

“Don’t count on it,” David said more gruffly than he’d intended.

Ruth stopped and looked at him oddly. “Why would you say that, David?”

His voice revealed his bitterness. “I just wouldn’t count on it. Those dirty Japs aren’t going to give up until they’ve killed us all.”

“David, I know you’ve been through a great deal,” Ruth said sympathetically, “but we don’t talk like that in our family.”

From anyone else, David would have taken that as an invitation to fight. Instead, as he caught her expression and Rachel’s, he felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but with Pearl Harbor and all . . . well, never mind . . . I shouldn’t have talked like that in front of you ladies.”

They turned at the next street corner, passing a group of children who were caught up in an evening game of tag. Their gleeful laughter and animated expressions proved to him that life indeed went on as usual. David envied their innocence. It was almost as if they had no idea that the world was at war. That people were suffering and dying.

“I heard you comment about your arm,” Ruth said, changing the subject. “What do the doctors say about your recovery?”

David shook his head. “They say there won’t be one. Not a real recovery, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Her question was one of concern, not intrusion.

“The nerves are damaged. They can’t do anything for me. I’ve gone through several surgeries and more rehabilitation than I care to remember. This is about as good as it gets.”

“And the pain?”

He shrugged. “They have no way of knowing. They’re hopeful that the pain will fade in time. They’re hopeful new discoveries in medicine will help them to help me, but I don’t have their sense of optimism.”

“Just remember, David, with God, all things are possible.”

She sounded just like Kenny, so natural and at ease. Kenny would have told him the same thing if he’d been able to.

Rachel reached over to touch David’s good arm. “We’ll keep praying for your recovery, and if not a full healing, then we’ll ask God to show you what His plans are for your life.”

David looked into her face, almost mesmerized by the tiny puffs of steam coming from her lips as she spoke. “I don’t think God would even care to hear prayers about me,” he murmured.

She smiled and it wove a spell over him that left David weak in the knees. “God cares, David.”

That was it. That was all she said and yet David felt it was his undoing. A stir of emotions nearly brought tears to his eyes.
Oh, Rachel
, he thought,
I wish that could be true, but God knows who I am and what I’ve done. He knows I deserve this and worse
.

“Well, here we are!” Ruth announced, pulling a key from her coat pocket.

David looked up to see the orderly storefront. Overhead the sign read Akimoto Nursery. Confused, David looked to Ruth for some explanation while Rachel took up the key from her mother and unlocked the door.

“I’ll go see to the greenhouses,” Rachel told her mother, not even noticing David’s discomfort. She gave him one more brief smile before entering the nursery.

Ruth seemed to understand, however, and waited until her daughter had gone. “The Akimotos are dear friends. They were sent to an internment camp when President Roosevelt gave the order earlier this year. This property is all they have. This is their home and their business,” she explained.

“They’re Japanese,” David said, knowing full well the look of disgust on his face matched his tone.

“They are
Nisei
, David. Americans. Their parents emigrated here long before the war and they were both born in California.”

“They’re dirty, low-down . . .” He paused in order to keep from cursing. “They’re responsible for bombing Pearl just as sure as if they’d dropped the bombs and flown the planes themselves.” He felt the anger surge inside. He knew he was acting completely out of line, but he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Ruth was undaunted. “Kenny and William Akimoto were best friends. They went to school together. Kenny was William’s best man when he married Sarah. Both William and Sarah Akimoto are as American as you or I.”

David began to shake, the fury inside more than he could deal with. “No!” he exclaimed. “You can’t be serious. You can’t care what happens to them. They didn’t care what happened to Kenny—to the rest of us.” He wanted to scream and shake the woman, but most of all he wanted to run away. And that seemed to be the easiest solution. Without thought for how Ruth would feel, David turned on his heel and ran from the storefront. The sound of the bombs were in his ears, the planes strafing, the screams and cries of the wounded. It was a madness that never seemed to leave him, and now Ruth Bennett, the woman he thought of as a comforting presence, was only making the nightmare worse.

The nights that followed David’s outburst were filled with hideous visions of that morning so long ago. It seemed amazing that one moment in time could so forever change a man—a country. But December 7 had done that and more. To David, who had taken life pretty much as it was dished out, the event came as a final blow of failure.

He should have been on the USS
Arizona
with the rest of his shipmates. He should have been in the same watery grave that many of his companions now shared, but he’d taken life into his own hands.

David tried not to think about that morning. In fact, he had a hard time remembering many of the details that involved his own circumstances. He remembered one of the first bars he’d made his way into the night before, but he couldn’t remember the last one. He’d passed out somewhere along the way and when he’d regained consciousness it was nearly seven-forty-five in the morning. He remembered that clearly, for some odd reason. Because it was Sunday morning he knew security would be more relaxed. They would have asked for his liberty card the night before, but coming back to catch the launch to take him to the
Arizona
, he doubted he’d get more than a perfunctory wave through.

He’d stolen a jeep, but he didn’t exactly remember that. Someone had told him about it when trying to describe what had happened to him. The kind but stern-faced nurse had related the only information she’d been able to piece together. David had taken the jeep, but in the madness that became the morning, no one really faulted him for this mistake.