Island Of Sweet Pies And Soldiers. Sara Ackerman
like a badge. His giant hands held a yellow plumeria lei, which he placed around her neck. His neck smelled like sardines and sweet flowers. His touch was tentative, and even after a week together and weeks of almost daily letter writing, she realized they hardly knew each other.
After the initial hug, Herman pulled out a small box.
He knelt down.
The people around them disappeared and she could see only his mouth forming words.
“Violet, will you marry me?”
In her mind, she began to frantically recall the letters and if she had possibly missed one. In all of their correspondence, marriage had not been mentioned. But then why else would a man buy a woman a ticket halfway around the world?
“We have your mother’s blessing.”
His eyes were so open and expectant. Was there any other answer than yes?
* * *
A loud pounding rattled Violet from her daydream. “Hello?” a voice called.
It was Luther. “Thank you for coming.”
“Anytime, you know that. What can I do for ya?” he said.
“Jean and I are going to sell pies in Waimea on Saturday mornings. Give the soldiers a feeling of home and make some pocket change,” she said.
Luther had to bend his neck straight down when talking to her. “I’m afraid I’m not much good at pie making, so if you’ve invited me here for that, you’re fresh out of luck.”
The thought of Luther with an apron on, baking a pie, caused her to laugh. He only cooked meat. She knew this because they shared an occasional dinner together, along with Jean and a few other faculty members. Being around Luther was a link to Herman, and she was glad for his company, even if he seemed preoccupied these days and kept more to himself.
“Now there’s a sight. But we do need a pie stand, something that we can fold up and is easy to assemble. I know you would be good at that,” Violet said.
“Now you’re in business. I can have something ready by the weekend if you’d like. How many pies you looking to sell?”
“I think we’ll start with twenty and go from there. But I have a little extra time now that Ella’s in Japanese school in the afternoons,” she said.
His voice boomed. “That such a good idea?”
Violet was fed up with paranoia. “It was her idea. And why the hell not?”
Luther tucked his hands in under his belt, lowered his voice, looked around as though someone might be hiding between the walls and leaned close enough that she thought she smelled liquor on his breath. “Just between you and me, I’ve been hearing rumors that they might close the school.”
Violet about fell over. “What? Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, in and about town. People talk. You know that.”
Closing the school would ripple through their small community, ruining her friends’ livelihood and cutting off her daughter’s newfound independence. Somewhere between the September heat and a rising feeling of dread, her palms broke out in sweat.
“Is there anything you can do about it? Herman talked to someone not long after Pearl Harbor, when there was mention of closing it then. Do you know who?” She had to take a breath to steady herself.
He shrugged it off. “No idea.”
“You must have connections. Please, Luther, we need this. Ella needs it,” she said.
He held up his hands. “I’m not privy to the government’s agenda. There’s a lot going on we don’t know about. Hard to trust anyone these days.”
She would have to warn Takeo.
* * *
October 2 turned out to be a good day for the Allies. According to the radio, they’d breached the Siegfried Line and would now be able to penetrate Germany along the northwestern border. The Germans had just crushed the Polish resistance in Warsaw and needed to be stopped. Maybe someone would finally do something about that mustached pig.
Violet was boiling coconut and listening to the news when Ella burst through the door, arms flailing. She was home far too early for Japanese school to be over.
“Mama, there are armed men at the school. You have to come!” Ella said.
Violet almost fell over. “What?”
Ella could barely get the words out between gasps. “They came while we were singing and stood outside. Sensei told us that school would be ending early today and to go home. The men didn’t look nice.”
“Honey, you stay here with Jean.”
Jean had heard Ella and hovered nearby. Shaking, Violet slipped her shoes on and ran up to the school. Branches tore at her dress and the dense air pressed in on her lungs. By the time she arrived on the small porch, she had to fold over to catch a breath. Two army jeeps were parked in front. Too late to warn Takeo.
When she opened the door, the chirping of the birds halted and the entire room froze. Papers were strewn across the room and drawers piled haphazardly on the floor. Without the singing children, the place felt stingingly cold.
“What the devil is going on?” she cried.
Three men stood around the desk, and an older one with a scar carved deep into his cheekbone stepped forward. “Ma’am, this is a government matter. I’m going to have to ask you to return to wherever you came from.”
Violet couldn’t restrain herself. “How dare you come in here when the kids are in class. Have you no common decency?”
The soldiers all began fidgeting. “We were prepared to wait but Mr. Hamasu requested for the children to leave,” the scarred one said.
Takeo stood off to the side with a blank face and unreadable eyes. He nodded toward the door.
Still, she wasn’t leaving. “I want to know what you’re doing here. Takeo already went through this after Pearl Harbor. They’re not even teaching Japanese, for heaven’s sake.”
The man spoke as though she was just a small annoyance. “That may be the case, but we’re doing what we see fit to keep the country safe. This is a matter of national security. What concern do you have in the matter, anyway, Mrs....?”
“Mrs. Iverson, sir. My daughter is a student here.”
The men exchanged glances and a look of confusion spread across their faces. “At Japanese school?” the spokesman said.
“Yes, and she loves it. She comes home with folded paper animals and is learning how to create a miniature tree. Terribly dangerous stuff.”
It seemed odd that they would be coming now. The threat of direct attack had lessened and the Japanese were being forced back toward their homeland. Violet knew Takeo like a brother. He had stepped in after Herman disappeared and been a second father to Ella. If she was sure of one thing, it was that Takeo was no spy.
The spokesman leaned against the desk and folded his puffy arms. “As of now, the school is officially closed and we are taking over the building. Sorry for your daughter but she doesn’t really belong here anyway.” The look he gave her said he wasn’t sorry at all.
Violet shivered from the understanding that these men had poisoned minds and were unable to think for themselves. The war had created some kind of mass hysteria. “My husband was the principal of Honoka’a School and the head of Hawaii Rifles. He vouched for Takeo. Shouldn’t that count for something?”
“Leonard, please escort Mrs. Iverson home so we can wrap things up here and get a move on,” the spokesman said to one of the younger men. And to her, “We are done here.”
Violet stepped back toward the door. “I don’t