“If they were going to shut it down, they would have already.”
“Nothing’s for certain.”
Before she could respond, Ella appeared in the doorway, bare feet white against the green linoleum. “Mama, there’s a tall man at the front door.”
She and Jean exchanged glances. There were few tall strangers in the area. Jean smoothed her skirt and they walked out to the living room together. Ella hung back. It was September and the remaining light sent streaks of gold through the hau trees. A figure in a green uniform stood in front of the screen door, backlit. Another stood on the steps below, looking out toward the ocean.
As she approached the door, Jean squealed. “Zach? Is that you?” She flung open the door and flew outside, wrapping herself around one of the men before he could get a word out. “What are you doing here? Oh, Lordy Lord, I can’t believe this!” She turned to Violet. “This is my little brother, Zach.”
When he managed to detach himself from Jean, he shook Violet’s hand, nearly pulling her arm out of its socket. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Zach motioned to the other man. “This is Sergeant Parker Stone, Fifth Division.”
Parker squeezed her hand. His eyes were either deep-sea blue or silver, and she tried not to stare. Must have been the lighting.
“Please, come in,” Jean said.
Parker remained planted. “I’ll wait out here if you don’t mind. I can’t seem to get enough of this sweet air,” he said, looking more interested in the whitecaps and cane fields than in either of them.
Jean pulled Zach in and dragged him into the light of the kitchen. Ella sat at the table, looking into her glass of milk. Violet could tell she was curious because she kept sneaking glances.
“Ella, honey, this is my brother, Zach. Can you say hi?” Jean said.
Ella’s chestnut eyes were stubborn. She didn’t look up, but in a small voice said, “Hello.”
Zach towered over her. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ella.”
He looked down at the picture on the table. Ella ignored him.
“That’s a fancy-looking creature. Do those actually live around here?” he said.
The drawing was of a butterfly with lacy wings and a cat’s face. Ella nodded, ever so slightly.
“I wasn’t aware that Hawaii had flying buttercats. But this is good information to know,” he said, winking at Violet.
It didn’t take Zach long to make himself comfortable at the table, and for Violet to decide she liked him.
Jean beamed. “Tell me everything, young man. Why didn’t you contact me?”
Without his hat, he looked younger. Jean was twenty-five, so Violet guessed Zach to be about twenty-two. “They wouldn’t let us. You know how that goes. If anyone so much as mentioned pineapple or island in our letters home, they were crossed out or returned.”
“So you must have been in the convoy that passed through town this weekend. And you’re just coming here now?” Jean asked.
“I searched for your face when we drove through. Trust me, I came as soon as I could.”
“Your group looks different from the fellas that left us last month,” Violet said.
“Camp Pendleton is a far cry from Betio Atoll. God bless those boys.” Zach’s face clouded over.
“What can you tell us? How long are you here for?” Jean asked.
Zach shared the same smile as his sister, toothy and nearly wider than his face. “That, I can’t say. And when you contact Mom and Dad, don’t say I’m here. The last thing we need is the Japanese to know what we’ve got going on. Though Lord knows they have their spies.”
Violet’s stomach lurched. “Not in this town.” She was fed up to her teeth with outsiders assuming all Japanese were spies.
“You can’t be too sure,” Zach said.
“I can vouch for a good number of them.”
“We’re just here to protect our country.”
“Just beware of blanket assumptions based on skin color,” Violet said.
Zach backed off. “I’ve got to run, since we’re supposed to be on official business. It’s six o’clock and I don’t want to get shot, but I’ll come down when on liberty if that’s all right?” he said. “And next time we’ll bring Roscoe.”
“Who’s Roscoe?” Jean asked.
“Just you wait. You’re going to love him.” He glanced at Ella. “You, too, Ella.”
At the sound of her name, Ella perked up, but still regarded her drawing instead of Zach.
“Please do! Oh, Zach, I’m so happy to see you. You look well,” Jean said.
He placed his hat back on and bent his grasshopper legs to bring him level with Ella. “And maybe I’ll get to see that buttercat for real next time.”
Ella looked at the floor.
* * *
Later in the evening, Violet peered through the window at Setsuko’s house down the hill. Lights were out, which wasn’t surprising, since lights were always out. She debated walking down to see if anyone was still awake. There was no excuse for being out past ten unless on official business, and she didn’t want to get shot by the guards set up at the school entrance. Curfew was taken seriously. Even still, their houses were on campus, and she would be only a thin shadow against the backs of houses.
“I’m going to walk down to Setsuko’s. Can you keep an eye on Ella?” she asked Jean.
“Now?”
If there was one thing in the world she wanted, it was for Ella to come alive again. “I need to ask.” After all, why not Japanese school? It couldn’t hurt to have Ella learning Japanese customs and language, especially living in a blended town like theirs.
Jean gave her one of her teacher looks, and planted her hands on her hips. “Wait until tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
She sneaked around back and padded down the pathway, following a thin trail of moonlight. Voices floated in and out from darkened windows along the way, and radios sent their noise into the black air. Everything seemed so desperately regular, except for the fact that she had to sneak to her friend’s house in the cover of night. There would be no sleeping until she talked to Takeo.
From the road up to the school, the hum of an engine grew louder. Why hadn’t she accounted for headlights in planning her route? A beam of brilliant light shot across her path as a truck came over the hill. She pressed herself behind a tree, cursing her hips for not being slimmer. But the truck continued on toward the gym. A few minutes passed without another truck.
Outside the house, she hesitated. A knock at the door might cause alarm, but it was too late now. A radio played in the kitchen, and she tapped on the door, while at the same time whispering through the screen. “Setsuko, it’s Violet.”
The radio turned down and feet shuffled. Silence filled the house.
“It’s Violet,” she said again, this time louder.
The door opened and she was pulled into the dark living room by strong hands. “What are you doing here?” Setsuko asked. She wore a rice-bag kimono. Her hair, which usually coiled on her shoulders in permed waves, was now pinned up.