Amelia led Luke into the airstrip coffee shop to wait for the flight back to Hilo. After a sip of the coffee, she watched him as he seemed to study a Japanese couple nearby. When he looked at her again, he asked, “During the war, were you interned?”
She hesitated, and he quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I know some things are hard to talk about. We don’t have to.”
“No, it’s all right.” She tried to smile at him but felt the tension inside her, remembering all the uncertainty of that time. “There was much suspicion and many accusations that went on after the bombing. There was fear and shock and not knowing who to trust. I lost my job on the base. The building was bombed, and I was told I wasn’t needed. That may be true, but full Japanese lost their jobs because of their race.”
Amelia noticed he didn’t seem surprised.
“Was your mother put into a camp?”
“Not her. Everyone knows my mother is trusted beyond anyone else.” Why did she always have to feel that niggling resentment of her own mother? “She came here as a picture bride when she was sixteen.”
“Picture bride? What is that?”
“In the early 1900s, Japanese men came here to work. And sugar plantations needed them. After a while, the men realized they might never be able to go back to Japan, so they were allowed to send their photos and information to Japan, seeking a bride.”
“I can understand that,” Luke said.
Amelia nodded. “Japanese girls and matchmakers looked at the pictures and information and sent their own photos back to the immigration office. The ships would come in, the men would be waiting, and often they were married right there, the first time they’d ever seen each other.”
“And your mother was one of them. At age sixteen?” Luke shook his head as if that were unbelievable. “How did she become the wife of a white man? If I’m not being too personal.”
Amelia couldn’t help but be amused at his surprise. She’d grown accustomed to visitors to the island and military men like Joe—and now Luke—never having heard of the picture brides.
“No, it’s not too personal. Her story is famous. A man had sent a photo taken twenty years before. He was in his forties. Many of the brides, having traveled so far and with nothing to go back to but humiliation, would have thought they had no recourse but to marry the man.”
Amelia sighed. “Not my mother. She is one determined, stubborn person. Straight as an arrow on what she wants to do.”
Luke pushed his cup aside, planted his forearms on the table, and leaned forward. “I’d love to hear the story.”
Their boarding was called. “On the plane,” she said.
They boarded, and she again stepped aside for Luke to sit by the window.
After they were settled in their seats and had flown high into the clear night sky, alight with moon and stars, Amelia glanced at Luke, who was looking out the window and down at the land below. She leaned back against the seat, allowing herself to relax for a moment and release the tension she felt in the back of her neck. She hadn’t minded the memories or the talking about the war and Joe or the camps. But she’d tried to weigh each word carefully, wanting to know how Luke felt about her and Joe. She hadn’t learned a thing about that from him. His mind was probably doing the same as hers—evaluating.
He wasn’t probing. In everything, he seemed to ponder yet be sensitive to her feelings. That was how it was with most people. They didn’t ask too many questions.
Afraid the droning of the plane might put her to sleep, she turned her head to face Luke and found his head turned her way. He, too, had leaned against the back of the seat.
For a moment her eyes saw Joe. The resemblance. Luke’s face was more mature, his lips fuller, his eyes more serious. Her gaze locked with his. She would like to know more about him. But there was no point in that. The less either knew, the better.
He seemed to study her as she studied him. Was it her imagination that his eyes always had a question in them? She looked down at her hands on her lap. What had they been talking about? Her mother? Picture brides?
“My mom refused, right on the spot, to marry that man. That had never happened before, and everyone was shocked. With few exceptions, the Japanese were laborers on the plantations. The women were needed to keep the men happy and have children. If Mom had been able to return to Japan, she would have been an outcast and humiliated. Here, she wouldn’t be socially accepted by the whites.”
“What did she do?”
“There was nothing she could do. She just stood there. Nobody knew what to do.” Amelia laughed. “Except Matilda. She took her in, put her to work at the Matti-Rose, and got her a job part-time at the immigration office since she could speak both Japanese and some English.”
“What happened to the man?”
Every time she related this part of the story, Amelia was in awe of her mom’s audacity. “My mom wrote for her widowed aunt to come. She did and married the man who had sent his picture.” She laughed lightly. “So that man became my mom’s uncle.”
Amelia liked the sound of Luke’s laughing with her. She suspected it would have been nice to relate to him without all the tension.
“Fascinating story,” he said.
“Oh, there are many. My mom fell in love with my dad when he was a teacher and she a student. He went away to seminary on the mainland. She waited for him. She said she would never marry if she could not have my dad.” She turned her head toward Luke. “My mom gets what she wants.”
Amelia faced forward again. Her mom always had an opinion. What would she want in this situation? The thought was disturbing. To try and dismiss it, Amelia began to tell Luke how her mom had been like an intermediary between the Japanese and the whites. She told of her mom going to the plantations and talking to the Japanese who had their own villages, their own temples, and their own gods.
“Through her and my dad, many have become Christians,” she said.
“She sounds wonderful,” he commented.
“She’s perfect.” Turning her head completely away from Luke, Amelia looked across the aisle and smiled at a little boy who looked her way. She knew those unwanted feelings weren’t really against her mother but against herself. She fell so far short of perfection.
After landing and getting into Luke’s rental car for their return to Hilo, Amelia told him how things had changed. People were being judged on an individual basis and not so much on race. Many Japanese had gone into business, owned land, and were a part of the culture of Hawaii.
The return trip seemed shorter, with Luke remembering the turns. He pulled into an empty space in the parking lot behind the Matti-Rose. Amelia wondered what he thought about her rambling on about her family, even though he’d asked. “I haven’t given you a chance to talk about your family.” She didn’t really want to hear about them. She only meant to be polite.
“I already know about them,” he said and gave a light laugh. “Anyway, their lives aren’t nearly as fascinating as the people I’ve encountered here. This is … different.”
When she reached for the door handle, he said, “Thank you for going with me today and putting up with all my questions.”
“I don’t think I should say I enjoyed it,” Amelia said, “considering the reason and all the memories. But … it was good. I’m glad I went. And I hope it was helpful to you.”
Luke had turned toward her with his left arm over the steering wheel. “That’s what I came for, Amelia. To see what Joe had seen, where he’d lived, wanting to know he was enjoying life. Some things I can only work out within myself. But it helps, too, knowing he … knew you.”
“We had good times together. I don’t think he was ever sad. And when the bombs came, there wasn’t time to be anything but shocked. He was killed instantly.” Oh, the sweep of that emotion seemed overpowering. She blinked it away, looked away from Luke’s moist eyes. She needed to get away.
She wished he would go, and she asked, “Are you planning to stay around?”
“For a while. The contractors are consulting with me about the park at the bay and a few other projects. I’ve told them I’m not working, not on a payroll that is. It’s voluntary, and I can give as much or as little of my time as I want.”
She put her hand on the door handle again.
“One more thing,” he said. She kept her hand on the handle but loosened her grip. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do? I mean, I am Joe’s brother.”
“No,” she said quickly. “There’s nothing. The past is over. I’ve dealt with it.” It was the present she was having trouble with. “But …” She hadn’t meant to say what she heard coming out of her mouth. “Did Joe write to your parents about me?”
“No, only to me.”
“What did he say about me?” She didn’t turn from his gaze this time, although she felt a tremble in her lips and she saw that question in his eyes.
He repeated what he’d said before. That Joe had said he’d met a girl, her name was Amelia Grant, and her dad was a preacher.
He shifted his gaze to the dark foliage ahead of the car. “I have the letter in my room. I’ll read it again to make sure.”
She got the strong impression there was more.
“I’m sure touring the island is more enjoyable with someone than alone. Would you be willing to be my tour guide again, Amelia? To places that bring back happy memories, perhaps?”
Life had so many ifs. If the past had been different, if the present were different. Luke was nice. He tried not to probe. He respected her feelings, even when he didn’t know what they were. If … he were not Joe’s brother.
But the ifs were there. “Today was good, as I said. But the past is gone. My life with Joe is over. I shouldn’t go backwards, but forward.”
“Of course,” he said. “But from my point of view, we have a common bond, and that’s important to me. I just want you to know that if there’s anything … like … listen to you, do anything …?
“Thank you. But there’s nothing. It’s been nice meeting you, Luke. I hope your stay in Hawaii is a pleasant one. Be sure and stop by the tourist office to say good-bye before you leave.” She opened the door. “I wish you well.”
He was out of the car at the same time she was and walked her to her car. He stood there while she turned the key in the ignition. “Good night, Amelia. Thanks again.”
She backed out, and in the rearview mirror, she watched him walk across the lot toward the back entrance of the inn.
His head turned, and he stood at the back door until she had rounded the corner of the inn and headed to her own home. She had no idea why her tears wanted to fall now. Relief that this was over? Fear that it would never be over?