Cold collected between the blanket and Lana’s shivering body. In the night, the winds must have shifted north again, dropping the temperature by at least twenty degrees below comfortable. Once this war was over, she resolved to buy enough warm clothes for an army. Just to have on hand. She thought of poor Mochi in the barracks.
Yesterday had been one of the saddest days on record. No one had felt much like talking, and they moped around the house as though someone had died. Coco decided to climb to the top of the Norfolk pine outside and refused to come down. It took Benji climbing up and bargaining to bring her down.
“What did you tell her?” Lana wanted to know.
“That the minute they allow visitors, we can go see Mochi and her parents together.”
Lana touched her eyelids. Swollen and tender. Not only did she miss Mochi, but all day long yesterday, she had been half expecting Grant to come riding down the driveway on Boss. Double the loss, quadruple the pain. Eventually day fell into night, and he never came. Sleep had been elusive and was filled with dreams of soldiers and prisoners and being trapped in the secret room.
Now she layered on sweaters and her father’s jacket and tiptoed out the front door, careful not to wake anyone. A deep raspberry sky greeted her, casting just enough light so she could see large shapes and objects. She walked as fast as she dared. The morning quiet was a balm of solace. No birds, no breeze, just the peace of a sleeping volcano.
As Lana walked along, her chest felt like a pressure cooker. Chances were slim to none that Grant had left another note for her, but she had to see for herself. The alternative meant worrying every twenty seconds about whether or not one was there. She needed to get him out of her system and carry on. Today was Christmas Eve. The kids deserved her full attention.
First sunlight hit the summit of Mauna Loa. Lana stopped and watched as golden light melted down the mountain. One thing was for sure—no one could ever deny the sheer magnificence of that mountain. She pulled her jacket tight and continued on.
By the time she reached the Sugi grove, she could scarcely breathe. Nerves had taken ahold of her lungs and pressed in from all sides. One second she was sure there would be a note, the next second sure there wouldn’t. A pale light filtered through the towering trees. Enough light to see. The branch was empty.
Maybe this whole thing with Grant had been more one-sided than she’d thought, nothing more than a passing fancy, making her easy to walk away from. Men are unpredictable. A universal truth she could vouch for. But she would have sworn he was different.
With every step back to the house, she resolved to flip this day on its side. At least now she wouldn’t have the added burden of explaining to Grant why Benji now lived with them. She was armed with a story but didn’t want to have to use it. They were all waiting for her on the porch, the whole motley crew, geese included.
Coco stood at the top of the steps with her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?” she said.
“Out for an early Christmas walk. I picked berries, too. Anyone feel like pancakes?” Lana said.
“Me!” was the unanimous answer. That was the beauty of young people, she was coming to see. Their little hearts were so ready to see the goodness in the world all over again. They had resilience bottled up in reserve. If only she could be more like them.
They followed her into the kitchen, and Marie turned on the radio, a notch too loud. They found a station playing Christmas songs, and before long, there were feet tapping and voices singing in and out of tune. Benji didn’t say much at breakfast, but he offered to show the girls how to fold origami animals for the tree. Lana had a few pieces of wrapping paper left over from Kano Store and offered it for the taking.
Lana sat on the porch while they worked, thinking back on Christmas Eve last year. All of downtown Honolulu had been lit in a spectacular fashion, and she and Buck were at a gala at Washington Place—the governor’s home. Anyone with an important last name was there. Lana had attempted to feel festive, but inside she was hollow as a shoot of bamboo. Christmas had been hard lately, with no children to open gifts under the tree and no one to hang stockings for.
While all the other women her age were busy being mothers, Lana was busy falling into despair. And no one understood. Some felt sorry for her; others were clueless and kept inquiring when she and Buck would have kids or, even worse, told her she would make a great mother—she really should try it someday. She hated those questions.
Lana and Buck were good at pretending, but signs of decay had begun to show. A complete lack of affection, blazing tempers and the inability to feel. There is a tipping point for all things, beyond which change becomes unstoppable. One of her father’s scientific phrases, which aptly applied to marriage, as well.
Now she had a house full of children. The sound of their chatter carried out the window, mixing with the hum of the bees. She peered in and saw them hanging misshapen origami creatures on the tree. The ornaments might have been horses or dogs or geese; she couldn’t be sure. Either way, they added charm and sparkle to a dreary day. The world, it seemed, had a funny way of giving you what you wanted when you least expected it.
After lunch and present wrapping in the secret room—Lana forbade any of them from going down there—they fed and watered the horses and collected decorations for the dinner table. Marie showed them how to make a wreath out of juniper and Norfolk, and they adorned it with ‘ohi‘a lehua blossoms and a‘ali‘i, which offered the perfect splash of red.
They cut up paper and made cards for their parents and Mochi. Coco also wanted to make a card for Grant, on which she drew purple horses galloping over streams of molten lava. A jagged line cut across her sky.
“What’s that?” Lana asked.
“The sky crack.”
“I haven’t noticed it yet. Is it still up there?”
“Yeah, but the rain clouds covered it.” Coco looked up at her, face pinched in thought. “Hey, I just thought of something. Maybe it’s how Santa Claus gets around!”
“It could very well be. Brilliant idea,” Lana said.
In the spirit of giving, she made her own card for Grant. It took her all of three seconds to know exactly what she wanted to draw. A white-tailed tropic bird hovering over the crater rim. The picture came easily, but when it came to writing a message, her thoughts ran dry. She started and stopped no less than twenty-two times.
Dear Grant,
Wishing you a Merry Christmas, or, as we say in Hawaii, Mele Kalikimaka. You have been such a blessing during these trying times. I am sorry for keeping Coco and Marie’s identity from you. Everything happened so fast and I didn’t know who to trust. I was simply doing my best to keep them safe. Believe it or not, I had made up my mind to tell you the very same day the Feds came. Please, give me a chance to explain in person.
Missing you on this chilly Christmas Eve,
Lana
Without any ham or turkey to be found, and not enough bread to make stuffing, they settled on homemade macaroni and cheddar cheese, and baked green beans with cream of mushroom soup. There was something to be said for food as comfort when most of your other comforts had been taken away.
The table was a picture straight out of Sunset magazine, with wreaths and candles and polished silver. It was their first formal dinner at Hale Manu, and for the first time in what felt like days, everyone looked clean and fresh and brushed. The house might be bare-bones, but it wrapped them in its comforting walls and held them close. After a quiet dinner, they settled by the fire. The pile of presents had grown since yesterday but was still meager.
“Our parents let us open a present on Christmas Eve,” Coco said.
“Let’s wait until tomorrow, since we have so few.”
“Won’t there be a lot more by morning? After Santa comes?”
Marie gave Lana a concerned look. “Coco, let’s wait. Just in case Santa gets hung up someplace.”
Benji chimed in. “I say we open one. So what if we have one less present tomorrow? It won’t kill us.”
“Is that what you all want?”
Two yeses and a shrug. Lana selected three featherweight gifts and handed them out. The way they tore into them with gusto reminded her of the magic of Christmas. Benji held up his first. An ink sketch of Mochi. Lana had done it in a hurry earlier that day. Not perfect, but it captured his toothy smile and the spark behind it. Coco kissed hers before holding it up. Ingrid. Marie had Fred.
“Since we don’t have any photographs here, I figured these might be nice to have. And we can try to round up frames. Or maybe Benji can help us make some,” Lana said.
“Can you do one of Sailor, too?” Coco asked.
“I’d love to.”
Never had her sketches felt more important than in this moment.
Christmas morning broke with a cold snap. Lana checked the lichen on the tree branches for signs of frost. When she got to the living room, Coco was already up and had lit a fledgling fire. She was dressed from head to toe in red.
“He came!” she cried.
“I knew he would,” Lana said.
While they waited on Marie and Benji, Coco helped Lana tie red ribbons around jars of honey for Uncle Theo and the Kanos and Auntie. It was strange not to have a whole universe of friends to deliver gifts to. She had half a mind to take a boxful to the camp for guards and prisoners alike. Everyone could use a little honey on a day like today.
Marie and Benji filed into the great room, one after another, bleary-eyed and decked out in all their warm clothes. Benji wore a Santa hat they’d found in the sock box. Both plunked down next to Coco, who was snuggling Sailor by the tree. Lana served hot cocoa and brought out fresh biscuits dripping in honey. She counted her blessings to have these three amazing humans in her care. So why did she feel like crying?
They opened the box of Japanese playing cards, a group gift, and Benji promised to teach them all how to play hanafuda. Lana admired his patience as he pointed out the cherry blossoms, wisteria, pine, peony and plum cards, and what the moons and ribbons meant.
“Interestingly, there’s a lot of those same plants up here,” Lana said. “Hilo is too warm, but Volcano is just the right temperature.”
For Coco and Marie, she had wrapped up watercolors and paintbrushes, and for Benji, her father’s golf clubs. Lord knew she wouldn’t be needing them. For stockings, she had filled some wool socks with tangerines, plums, Japanese rice candy, and a few other odds and ends. The last four presents under the tree were from Mochi. He had used old newspaper and twine for wrapping.
“I miss Mochi,” Coco told Benji.
“Me too.”
Everyone was doing a fine job of pretending, but the room was so full of missing people that it was impossible to ignore. For each of them, Mochi had filled a palm-sized wooden box with five silver-dollar coins. In Lana’s there was also a gold chain coiled around a black-pearl necklace.
“It was Mochi’s wife’s. He got it for their wedding day,” Benji told her.
Lana felt her resolve slipping away even as she reminded herself that adults are supposed to be the ones to hold it together during tough times. Within seconds, tears streaked down her face, and she had to gulp for air. Sailor immediately came and lay on her feet.
“I’m sorry, you guys. Here I go ruining Christmas morning,” Lana said, nose dripping.
Coco ran to the kitchen and came back with a box of tissues. In all seriousness, she handed her a tissue and said, “No you didn’t, Aunt Lana. It was already ruined and you tried to fix it.”
Lana pulled her in for a tight hug, resting her cheek on the top of Coco’s head.
Lana was in the kitchen stacking up the honey jars when she heard a motor in the distance. She checked her watch. No one would be out on official business at 9:33 on Christmas morning. Stripping off her apron, she hurried out to the window where Coco was already standing, her nose smooshed into the glass. Lana pulled up next to her and they waited and watched.
“Who could it be?” Coco asked.
Please, let it be him.
“I don’t know.”
Marie and Benji crowded around them and all their breath fogged up the glass. Sailor barked once, then sat tall with her ears perked up, sniffing the air. A few moments later, an olive-colored military vehicle pulled right up to the bottom step. It wasn’t the kind that Grant usually drove. Lana’s heart missed a few beats, and she rested her hand on Coco’s shoulder to steady herself. Later she would remember the whole scene unfolding like a Technicolor dream.
The first one out, on the passenger side, was a man holding a rifle. He looked seven feet tall. Coco gasped. A half second later, Grant stepped out of the driver’s side, slipping off his hat and setting it on the dashboard. His gaze went directly to the window. Instinctively, Lana stepped behind the wall.
Here she’d been, pining away for him, and he was coming to haul her off. Guilt by association. Mochi had been wrong. Grant was not teachable. And then she noticed Coco’s eyes go bigger than plums. Lana snuck another glance outside. Standing at the bottom of the steps were none other than Fred and Ingrid Wagner.
Coco screamed, “It’s Mama and Papa!”
In a jumble of limbs, both girls were out the door and down the steps before their parents were halfway up. Coco wrapped her whole body around her mother, Marie slammed into them, and Fred pulled them all in with his extra-long arms. Ingrid’s whole body was shaking. Just watching them, Lana thought her heart might break with happiness.
Once inside, Lana offered them a seat at the table, and Grant nodded politely. Sailor was beside herself, howling and skidding as she ran circles around the room. Ingrid was crying and laughing at the same time. Lana rushed off to the kitchen, where she found Benji about to open the hidden door.
“Stay up here with us. You haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m done with secrets,” Lana told him.
Benji looked surprised but didn’t argue. She put on a pot of water for coffee and ran back out. Coco had arranged all of the presents on the table, and Marie was handing her parents their Christmas cards. The room sounded louder than a town hall meeting, with everyone speaking over one another. Grant sat alone on the hearth, and the soldier with the gun stood next to the front door. The man was trying to look relaxed, but his gun ruined all chances of that.
She sat down and joined them. The air between her and Grant was thick as butter. Every time she caught him watching her, he quickly looked away. If only she could pull him aside while the Wagners reunited. But now was not the time. Coco rattled off every detail of their recent lives. “We rounded up horses, there are beehives out back, Lana taught us how to make ‘o¯helo berry pie, we saw the crater.” She made it sound like summer camp.
“You girls are lucky to have Mrs. Hitchcock to care for you until we’re released,” Fred said, nodding at Lana.
“What do you mean until?” Coco said.
Ingrid hugged her closer. “He means we have to go back.”
Coco looked as though she’d been slapped. “Why can’t they move in with us, here?” she said to Grant.
“My job is to help run the camp. The FBI chooses who to keep and who to release. I’m working on getting you visits but can’t promise anything.” The way he spoke to her, it was clear he cared. “Sorry, kiddo. I wish it were different.”
Just then, Benji walked out carrying a tray of steaming mugs. He still wore the Santa hat. “Coffee, anyone?” he said.
Lana was quick to respond. “I would love one. Everyone, this is Benji. He’s staying with us for a while.”
If Grant was surprised, he didn’t let on. Fred and Ingrid surely recognized him from the neighborhood but didn’t say anything other than an emphatic yes and hello. After serving them, he disappeared back into the kitchen and turned on the radio. Lana took a chance and went and sat next to Grant, the fire warming her spine.
“So how did you manage coming here today? I’m sure they didn’t let you waltz off for no good reason,” Lana asked.
Grant sipped his coffee. “I pulled a few strings.”
They must have been fat strings.
“Just so you know, Major Bailey, you saved Christmas. Nothing in the world would have made these girls happier,” Lana said.
“The way I see it, kids and parents are meant to be together, especially when the parents are being held on hearsay.”
Lana could hardly believe what she’d just heard. “So you’ve checked into their case?”
“I poked around a bit.”
“And?”
He paused. “I can’t talk about it.”
Sitting with their knees almost touching, Lana longed to close that last inch. Grant being here was a double-edged knife. He had saved Christmas for the Wagners, but she wanted more. Selfish and horrible and true.
“If you wouldn’t mind, please keep this visit between us, okay?”
“Of course.”
Coco moved from her mother’s lap to her father’s, though Ingrid still held tight to her hand. Fred stroked her hair as though it were made of spun gold. Seeing them together was like coming up for air after a near drowning. There was still good in the world, if you knew where to look.
The guard at the door pointedly held up his arm and tapped his watch. Grant stood. “Sorry, folks, but our time is up.”
Coco wrapped her arms more tightly around Fred’s neck. He stood, carrying her, and they all filed out the door. Ingrid and Marie walked arm in arm, hovering on each step. If you could have slowed time to a standstill, no one would have complained. Lana suddenly remembered her own note and ran back in and grabbed it.
“For you,” she said, handing it to Grant.
When her fingers touched his skin, a jolt of static electricity raised the hair on her arm and ran all the way up the back of her neck. He looked surprised. She felt foolish. But for the first time that day, he smiled. A genuine, heart-melting smile.
The Wagners huddled together. Murmurs of love and anguish lifted up around them. Grant gave them another minute. Once again, Ingrid had to pry Coco’s arms from her waist. The mood was subdued. Less outright panic and more deep ache. For a moment Lana felt sorry for herself. No one alive loved her that potently.
“I miss you so much the inside of my heart hurts,” Coco said.
“Me too, Mausi. Me too,” Ingrid said.
Tears streaked down Fred’s face. “At least we’re nearby.”
“And alive,” Coco said, blinking hard and fast.
That got a chuckle. “Yes, I’m quite happy about that, too,” Fred said.
When Ingrid finally broke away and bent over to step inside the car, she exclaimed. “Oh, my!”
Lana looked in. Sailor took up the whole back seat and had her eyes intently focused on Ingrid.
“You have to stay here, my big girl.”
It took Fred pushing on one side and Lana and Coco convincing on the other to get the dog out. Grant stood to the side, hands in his pockets, watching. The way his eyebrows pinched together, you could tell he was affected. He turned his sad brown eyes toward Lana and seemed to be debating whether to say something.
She saved him the trouble by putting her arms around both girls. “Thank you for doing this, Major Bailey. We won’t soon forget it.”
That was when the buzzing started up. The bees moved in, hovering everywhere, over the muddy garden bed, in the Norfolk needles and hydrangea blossoms, all around Lana and the girls. They were glorious and threatening and golden all at once. Everyone froze, even Sailor. Lana swore she could feel a cool wind from their tiny beating wings. A honey smell filled the air.
“What are they doing?” Marie said.
“Swarming. It’s perfectly harmless,” Lana whispered.
Even so, Grant inched toward the car. “Merry Christmas, y’all.”
He drove away slowly, Fred and Ingrid waving out the back window. Lana and Coco and Marie stood planted long after the car disappeared from sight, bolstered by their closeness and the hum of thirty thousand bees.