That night while Lana and the girls were preparing dinner, Coco discovered a curious thing. Lana had pulled out the envelope with her childhood drawing of the horse to show Coco, and the plans for the house were lying on the counter. Lana was washing the rice, and Marie was chopping ginger and sweet potato for the stew.
“The horse looks like Sailor with all its spots. Do you think it’s still up here?” Coco said.
“That was a long time ago. I doubt it.”
Coco then turned her attention to the plans. “How do you get to this room?”
“Which room?”
“The one under the kitchen.”
Marie stopped. “There’s a room under the kitchen?”
They all crowded around the plans. On the elevation drawing, it showed a small room. There were even stairs leading down from the kitchen. When Lana had first seen the plans, she had only glanced at them, more concerned about the directions and the fact that a house existed at all.
“But there’s no stairs here,” Marie said.
This was typical Jack. Hidden compartments and mysterious rooms were the kind of things he lived for. “If he was building this as a hideout, this would make perfect sense. There’s got to be a door somewhere.”
Coco immediately began nosing around the kitchen, opening cabinets and examining the floor for any sign of a door.
“That’s strange. He must have changed his mind,” Marie said.
“I bet it’s here somewhere. We just need to look harder. Maybe Benji can help us. But let’s eat first,” Lana suggested.
Lana was famished. All that riding and then an afternoon spent clearing several large patches of earth for planting had stirred up an appetite. Or maybe it was the ruminating over how she’d handled herself with Grant. A breakdown and analysis of each word spoken.
With nightfall the winds had turned from the south and the air was visibly warmer. Balmy, after the biting cold of the past few days. The stew was simple and hearty, but Coco picked at it as though it were full of bugs. She held up a chunk of sweet potato with her fork, which had turned gray in the cooking.
“What’s this?”
“Sweet potato.”
She dropped it. “Yuck.”
Marie kicked her under the table.
“You can’t live on peanut butter. And with our food supply cut off, we need to get used to eating things we can grow here,” Lana said.
Coco looked to be considering what that meant. “Are there peanuts in Hawaii?”
“No peanuts. No wheat for flour, which means our bread is limited to what we can bring in. No a lot of things. So you’re going to have to expand your eating horizons, young lady.”
“What about Christmas? Will it be dangerous for Santa to come?” Coco asked.
Christmas. Just hearing the word made her heart hurt. It was less than two weeks away, and it had not crossed her mind even once. War did not care about Christmas.
“I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sure he travels far higher than any airplanes, and he’s got the reindeer to lead him safely,” Lana said, looking to Mochi for help.
“But we wouldn’t want him to lead the Japanese to us,” Coco said.
Mochi spoke softly. “Santa can become invisible when he needs to. He’s been in and out of wars before and in far more dangerous situations, but he always shows up. You can count on that.”
Lana saw Benji and Marie smirking at each other, obviously old enough to know the truth about Santa Claus. But Coco seemed genuinely concerned.
“We finally have a chimney for him to come down,” Coco said.
Lana smiled. “We’ll just have to make sure to put out the fire on Christmas Eve so he doesn’t burn his okole.”
“And keep Sailor in bed with you so she doesn’t scare off the reindeer,” Benji added with a hint of sarcasm that flew right over Coco’s head.
“Our parents will be here by then, won’t they?” she asked.
“I hope so, sweetie.”
Coco blinked rapidly, bravely fighting back tears. “I’m going to make a list for Santa, and that’s going to be at the top of it.”
“Let’s do that. Tomorrow we’ll start getting ready for Christmas. We can find a tree and make our own ornaments and maybe even make some cookies for Santa,” Lana said, grateful for another distraction and wondering how on earth they would manage Christmas this year. No husband, no parents, no Christmas cheer.
It would take a miracle.
After dinner they all gathered in the kitchen. Coco was still hungry so Lana let her open a can of mandarin oranges. She had been extra quiet since the topic of Christmas had come up. The house plans were laid out and Mochi and Benji took a look.
“Jack always was a smart buggah,” Mochi said.
“But there’s no way in,” Marie said.
Mochi waved his finger. “Guaranteed, there is.”
“It looks like the stairs come up somewhere behind the pantry. What’s on the other side of this wall?” Benji asked.
“I think it’s the bathroom,” Lana said.
They examined the pantry walls and floor, which were well crafted, without any visible cracks or crevices that didn’t belong. No extra notches or handles or buttons. Lana and Marie went into the bathroom to see if they could find evidence of any hidden doors. But no one found anything.
“In theory, it was a good idea. But it looks like he never built it. Maybe he ran out of time,” Lana said.
Mochi disagreed. “Doubt it. We just haven’t looked hard enough.”
“Well, I’m tired. We can look more tomorrow,” Lana said.
Coco spoke for the first time since dinner. “Tomorrow something’s going to happen.”
A chill ran up the back of Lana’s legs. “What kind of something?”
“With Mama and Daddy.”
“Can you tell us what you mean?” Lana asked.
Coco shook her head.
Lana felt for her. Knowing things like Coco did seemed a burden, and yet less so up here. Up here, it felt almost natural.
In the morning Lana woke to light snoring impossibly close to her head. She opened her eyes and not two feet away was Sailor, black nose twitching. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor made her an easy target. But the snoring had a lulling effect, and Sailor added warmth to the bed. Lana reached out and stroked her. Sailor opened one sleepy eye.
“You’re a real sneak, you know that?”
Sailor blew out like a horse, shut her eye and kept right on snoring. The dog was an accomplished sleeper, and Lana wished her own slumbers could be so serene. Instead there were nightmares of Japanese soldiers in the rain forest and Zeros strafing the pasture, or she’d wake up and her mind immediately took off running to every worst possible scenario imaginable. Lana slipped out from under the covers and went to the kitchen to start the hot water. Then she wrote up a list for a Volcano Christmas. Less than two weeks to go. Before everyone was up, she switched on the radio.
“US freighter Lahaina shelled by a Japanese submarine eight hundred miles northeast of Honolulu. With a crew of thirty-four, there are thought to be no survivors. Nazi Germany and Italy have declared war against the United States, and the entire West Coast is now a theater of war.”
Nothing but bad news. What had she expected? Yet with the ocean still crawling with Japanese submarines, each day that went by without another attack was a good day in her mind.
With hot coffee in hand, she went outside and made her way around back to check the hives. The morning buzzed with a smattering of bees. With the sun just coming over the treetops, the whole yard was draped in a honey-colored light. Gin and Tonic spotted her and waddled over.
“Did my father mention any secret room to you two? Oh, I wish you could talk,” she said.
The rock foundation was solid all around the base of the house, with no signs of any room. The only difference was in terrain. A narrow patch of lava went off from the corner of the house where a room might be, making her wonder if he’d been able to dig down through all that rock. Usually, once Jack had his mind set on something, he never gave up.
She remembered the summer her father decided they were going to walk into Waimanu Valley. Lana was fourteen. By all accounts it was a rigorous all-day affair that smart people did on mules. You had to park at the top of Waipi‘o Valley, walk down the nearly vertical road carved out of sheer cliff, cross a wide and swift-flowing river and long beach, then switchback up the other side. When they reached the top, Lana was ready to curl up under an ironwood tree. She could hardly breathe and her thighs felt like wooden logs.
Jack hadn’t even seemed winded. He stood at the edge, looking out to sea lost in thought. His wiry frame leaned up against the tree as though he were part of it. At that moment Lana realized Jack was driven by some unknown force to unlock every minute detail of the world, to understand nature in all its complexities.
The walk of misery continued as they made their way through thirteen more valleys. Every time they went down, Lana knew they’d have to go back up. It wasn’t until they were halfway there, when they stopped for lunch, that they realized Lana had forgotten to pack half their food. Jack didn’t reprimand her; in fact, he acted as though it was no big deal. At about the same time, skies turned gray and the air smelled thick with rain.
“We should turn back,” Lana said.
Jack looked genuinely confused. “Why would we do that?”
“Why wouldn’t we? We have no food and there’s a storm coming,” she said, trying not to cry.
He tapped his head. “This way, we get to see what we’re made of. Have a little faith.”
By the time they reached the cliffs of Waimanu Valley, waterfalls poured over the trail and their shoes were soaked through. They descended in near darkness. Huge surf crashed into the boulder-filled beach, and they set up their tent in a small patch of mud. Lana was sure they would be taken out by either a giant wave or a flash flood. Jack seemed unfazed. Even when a long centipede crawled over his foot, he just laughed.
“We’re in his territory.”
After eating brownies for dinner, Lana collapsed into her wet sleeping blanket. It was the worst sleep of her life. When dawn finally came, the skies had dried, the surf settled, and the day broke blue and cloudless. Lana ignored Jack when she got up. She was furious at him. As a peace offering, he made hot chocolate spiked with coffee.
“Here’s a secret, Lana. When you think all is lost and you’re about to give up, when you want more than anything to turn around and quit, don’t. Keep going.” He paused for effect in the way he always did before he was about to reveal some great discovery. “That’s when the magic happens.”
The rest of the trip was beautiful and memorable and perfect. So many of their experiences had been like that. That was Jack to a T.
Lana walked up the trail behind the house to investigate the outdoor shower. After days of ice-cold showers and sponge baths, Lana decided it was time to figure it out. Water was piped over from the big tank to a smaller holding tank which had a cast-iron box underneath it. From the looks of it and the way it was crudely welded together, Jack had made it. Lana opened the door and saw ashes and chunks of burned wood. At least it had been used before; that was hopeful.
She went back to the house and grabbed a towel, a basket of firewood and an ax. Then she came back out and split the wood into smaller pieces and lit a fire in the box. It took her several tries to get it going, and once she did, she turned the shower on. It took some time to warm, and as water was valuable, she stepped in while it was still lukewarm. After the past few days, lukewarm was fine with her. The act of taking a proper shower made her feel human again. Layers of sweat and grime and heartache rinsed into the rock beneath her bare feet.
While she stood there, with the water running on her face, she heard a small voice. “Can I go next?”
Lana peered over the shower door to see Coco standing there with a towel. “Why, of course you can. I was just warming it up for all of you.”
Coco had developed several big tangles in her hair, which now had a greasy sheen to it. And despite the sponge baths, she had developed a musty smell. This hot shower was about the best thing to happen to them in days. By now the water was properly hot and she had to add some cold. Lana wrapped herself in the towel and stepped out.
“Do you need help?” she asked Coco, not really sure how much to mother her and how much to let her be.
“I can do it myself.”
“Make sure to wash your hair twice.”
Lana went in to tell the others and get another load of firewood. When everyone had had their turn, they sat down to eat. The mood around the table was several notches lighter, and the room smelled like spring.
After breakfast, Benji and Marie insisted on walking down to the pasture and working on the fence posts. Some invisible line had been removed between the two, and now they acted as though they had known each other for years. Getting your hands dirty side by side had that effect on people. Coco and Sailor trailed along.
Lana took off in the truck for Volcano House. As much as she was getting used to having a house full of people, stolen moments alone gave her space to breathe. She was lost in thought, passing through the Sugi pine grove, when she spotted something peculiar up ahead. A white object was suspended in midair. She stopped the truck and climbed out. A handkerchief tied to a piece of twine hung from a branch. Cinnamon filled the air. She pulled it down and noticed words scrawled in permanent marker.
Volcano House. 1700. GB.
Lana felt as though she might hyperventilate. He certainly was bold, demanding her presence without any explanation. But on a white flag. She couldn’t help but smile at his truce attempt. Yesterday he had been rude as all get out, but Mochi’s words played in her head. Maybe you need to teach him. She stuffed the handkerchief in the glove box and continued on to Kano Store. She could decide later.
Mrs. Kano was outside, arranging anthuriums. Either she had forgotten to take her hair net off, or she just didn’t care. The scarlet flowers reminded Lana of Christmas, and though there was no extra money, she grabbed a bunch. Pretending something was true often went a long way in making it actually feel so, she had learned over the years.
“You here to call those Germans again?” Mrs. Kano said.
“I have to keep trying. Say, would you mind doing the talking this time? You could ask for Mr. Wagner and save me the trouble of having to speak to that awful Mr. London.”
Iris walked out from the back. “I will, but first you should see this,” she said, leading her inside. She slid a piece of paper across the counter. It was facedown. Lana got a sense of foreboding. She flipped it.
Wanted for Questioning:
Mrs. Lana Hitchcock, of O‘ahu, in connection with the kidnapping of Coco (8) and Marie (13) Wagner of Hilo. Both girls were last seen in their home on Kɩ¯lauea Avenue on December 7,
in the company of Mrs. Hitchcock, wife of Buck Hitchcock. Anyone with information on their whereabouts should immediately contact the sheriff’s office or the FBI.
Lana’s whole body went numb. She said, “You must know I didn’t kidnap these girls. Who put this up, and when?”
She had known this was a possibility but had doubted Mr. London would actually go through with reporting her to the authorities. He must be more of a creep than she realized, and far bolder.
“Yesterday afternoon, two men in suits.”
“Did they talk to you?”
Mrs. Kano shuffled in and said, “Iris wasn’t here. They asked if I knew you and I said no. I don’t know you. But I knew your dad and I liked him.”
Lana needed to straighten this out right away. “Thank you for taking it down, and for telling me. You did the right thing.”
Mrs. Kano’s expression was unreadable. “No one saw it. But better you lay low for now.”
When Iris dialed the Wagners’ number, the phone rang and rang and rang, just as Lana had feared. But right before Iris was going to hang up, someone finally answered. A man’s voice.
“May I speak with Mrs. Wagner please?” Iris paused to listen. “Okay, thank you very much.” She hung up with a dull look on her face. “They’re still being held by the authorities.”
The shelves in the store had not been replenished since Lana’s first visit, and they were almost empty now. Several twenty-pound bags of rice, corned beef hash, tuna, flour, a few other nonperishables and five jars of peanut butter. Iris said they didn’t allow any hoarding, so Lana took one of each. Out back, there were crates and barrels of sweet potato, greens, eggs and plums, which they were more generous with, since they had a continuous supply up the road.
“Do you sell seeds?”
“No,” Mrs. Kano said.
“Normally we don’t, but I have some I could give you,” Iris added. She disappeared into the back of the store for a minute and came back with a couple of small brown envelopes that she handed to Lana. “For sweet potato, all you need are cuttings. I have a bunch up at the farm. Can you swing back this afternoon?”
“Sure.”
For the first time in her life, Lana was afraid of not having enough to eat. And worse, that the girls would go hungry. Except for the occasional storm, the barges with food usually arrived promptly, providing the islands with a never-ending stream of sustenance.
“Any idea when you’ll get more food?”
“All the ships have been taken over by the military and food is going to the troops. With the Japanese subs out there, it’s a big risk to come anywhere near these islands.”
Lana and the kids spent the rest of the day organizing and labeling rows in the garden and planting the seeds. The geese seemed overly interested in the seeds, and Lana asked Coco to ask Sailor to keep them away. Lana kept the flyer to herself. She wanted to tell Mochi, but he didn’t need anything else to worry about. Thank God Mrs. Kano had lied for her. She wanted to straighten things out, but the thought of the girls going back with Mr. London made her sick to her stomach.
Mochi sat in the shade of a nearby ‘ohi‘a tree and offered up advice now and then. “You need to make mounds for the sweet potato, and not too close together. They like to crawl.”
Coco rolled her eyes. “Plants don’t crawl, silly.”
He smiled so tightly his eyes were closed. “Oh, but they do—they just do it a little more slowly than we do and when we aren’t watching.”
Several times Lana noticed Coco mumbling to the seeds. “What are you saying?” she finally asked.
“Just singing to them.”
So what if Coco was quirky? It made life more interesting. And Lord knew they could use any kind of entertainment to keep their minds off of the situation at hand.
Speaking of situations, Lana had been changing her mind every five minutes about whether or not to meet Grant. The man was presumptuous. He deserved another chance. She shouldn’t leave the house for too long. Everyone would be fine without her for a couple of hours. She was too busy now, with Christmas and all. But the way she felt on the inside when he looked at her was almost too much to bear. The fact of the matter was she really didn’t have any choice.
At Kano Store, there were two bucketfuls of vines waiting for her on the front porch. When Lana poked her head inside to say hello and thank them, Mrs. Kano was propped up against the wall with her eyes closed. Lana was about to tiptoe back to the buckets, when Mrs. Kano said, “We saw them.”
“Excuse me?” Lana said.
“The Germans. They came by in a squad car.”
Lana felt herself go numb. “You sure?”
“Until now, only Japanese in the back of those cars. Not today.”
Lana walked closer to the counter. “The Wagners are my dad’s neighbors, the ones I’ve been trying to reach on the telephone. The girls’ parents. Some of the nicest folks you’d ever meet. But you saw firsthand how the government isn’t taking chances.”
“Germans in Hilo. How much of a threat can they be?”
“Good question.”
Mrs. Kano squinted and looked her up and down. “Why you all fancied up, girl?”
“Me? I only brought a few things with me from O‘ahu, so my options are limited.”
“No, I mean the lipstick.”
“Oh, that. Habit, I guess. I’m going to Volcano House to see Uncle Theo.” Lana thanked Mrs. Kano before she could ask any more questions, threw the buckets in the truck and took off in a cloud of dust. She arrived in the parking lot at five minutes to five. She checked the rearview mirror, dabbed her coral lipstick with the white handkerchief and checked again.
A loud tapping on the window. Her hands flew down and she jumped, head nearly hitting the roof of the truck.
Grant’s face was six inches from the glass, and he was smiling. “Hey there.”
“You scared me half to death. I didn’t hear you drive up,” she said, feeling flustered and caught in the act.
“Sorry about that. I rode over.” He motioned toward Boss, then opened her door.
When she climbed out, he was still standing there, awkwardly close. Was he expecting a hug or, God forbid, a kiss? Lana stood with her arms at her sides, straight as a plank and angling back toward the truck. “Hello, Major.”
“You’re still upset,” he said.
A troop of honeycreepers landed in the tree behind them and started chirping away. He glanced up, then back at her. A shadow of stubble ran across his chin. Lana found it impossible to turn away.
“That remains to be seen,” she said.
“Then I’m glad you came. Shall we go inside?”
They walked in side by side, him dressed casually in jeans and a tan corduroy jacket and Lana feeling overdressed in a white skirt and pink checkered blouse. But it was her only long-sleeved shirt. Thankfully the lobby was empty. The two of them being seen together was likely to cause talk. On one hand, she didn’t want to be a spectacle, on the other, she was beyond caring.
They sat in the rocking chairs overlooking the caldera. Grant pulled his close. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “To be honest, when I saw your truck in the lot, I was a little surprised.”
“I figured it wouldn’t kill me to show up.”
He laughed. “I’m that bad, huh?”
“No comment.”
Her eyes went to Mauna Loa, and the bands of sunlight darting into the sky behind it. Grant’s foot started tapping a mile a minute. Sitting here this close to him, it was tough to stay mad, though she was trying her darndest. Remember what he’s done. Who he is.
He chewed his lip and then said, “I owe you a proper apology for how I came across yesterday. I know you don’t get another chance at first impressions and all that, but I honest to God, cross my heart simply came up short for words. I have nothing against that kid. Nothing at all.”
“It sure seemed like you did.”
“Look, I didn’t expect him to be Japanese, though in hindsight it’s not surprising. Most people up here are. With what we have going on over at the military camp, it complicates things,” he said.
Lana cleared her throat. “What exactly is going on over there?”
“We’re holding the detainees in the barracks until we get word from the Feds how to proceed. Right now everyone on the island is being brought here.”
Here was her chance. “All Japanese?”
“Almost. We got a German couple today brought in from Hilo. Turned in by a friend for being sympathetic to the Nazis.”
Her heart skipped along double time. “Are they really?”
“They seem like decent people, but we’re at war now. This friend had some information that didn’t bode well for the couple.”
“How do you find out for sure if someone is a Nazi or a Japanese spy?” she asked.
He fingered his collar nervously. “It takes some digging, I guess, but that’s up to the police and the Feds. I just make sure the camp is running smoothly and keep the guards in order. I’m also helping secure the park from any future invasions or funny business.”
“So the camp has turned into a prison?” she asked.
“More of a holding cell. While people are being investigated.”
Lana grew quiet. He sure was right about one thing: what was going on at Kīlauea Military Camp certainly did complicate things. Especially now that she knew the Wagners were there.
Grant leaned back with his head in his hands, rocking the chair gently back and forth. He stared out at the expanse of lava and sky. “Can I ask you a question, Lana?”
It was too late to back out, but she was feeling exposed in a way she never had before. Raw and naked. “You can ask, but whether I’ll answer is another matter.”
He stopped rocking and put his hand on her arm. “So here’s the strange thing. Pearl Harbor has been damn near annihilated, the islands are on high alert and carloads of new suspects keep arriving at our camp. I’ve hardly slept a wink, and yet there’s one question that’s been keeping me up at night.”
Lana wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “Is it something I can answer?”
Their eyes locked.
“I know you said you’d be taking back your old name, but what I’m dying to know for certain is if that husband of yours is still in the picture at all,” he said, giving her arm a slight squeeze that sent shivers down to her toes.
The moment felt surreal. A point in time that all else hinged upon. Yes would be an easy way out. Keeping her safe and untouchable. No, on the other hand, would open her up to all kinds of possibilities, some of which made her blush. There was no way to avoid an answer, but she hedged. “Why is it you want to know?”
“Maybe I can answer that with a story about your father,” he said.
“My father?”
He nodded. “One day there was the Tomato Can Tournament over at the golf course. We drew names out of a hat, and Jack and I ended up being partners. Wherever we went, this dang cow was following us, and every time we made a shot, we had to shoo her off the fairway. The cow paid no mind to Jack, but I was able to get her moving. That got him talking about the house he was building and his plans with the horses and a few cows, too. He had never mentioned it before, but he said he felt like he could trust me.
“He told me that when General Short urged people to build bomb shelters and make plans for evacuating civilians out of high-risk areas, he knew he better get cracking. I thought a hideaway house seemed pretty outlandish and that he was all talk. But soon after the golf tournament, he had me come down to see for myself. The framing was up and I realized he was serious. ‘Oh, I’m serious, all right,’ he said. ‘Now I just have to figure out how to get my pigheaded daughter over here when the time comes.’” Grant stopped there but looked as though he wanted to continue. Lana waited for a moment, but he didn’t go on.
His imitation of her father carried just the right intonations, and it made her homesick for Jack and his zany ideas and contagious passion for whatever project he had going on at the time. Especially sitting here in a place he used to bring her.
“He actually said that?”
Grant gave her a one-sided smile. “Sorry, but pigheaded was exactly the term he used.”
“No, I mean he was concerned about getting me here?”
“Very. He hated the fact that you were on O‘ahu, and so far away. And I don’t know what happened between you, but he mentioned that he planned on going over there and setting things straight, sooner rather than later.”
Lana thought about the last time Jack had called and spoken to Buck. Lana had been out and she’d meant to call him back, but as usual never did. The problem was every time she thought about Jack, she felt an agonizing and searing pain in her lower abdomen. It was far easier to avoid him than to face the misery that he stirred up, and yet now she would give anything to have him back.
“I admit I’ve been pigheaded and not the best daughter, but there’s a long story behind it all. One I don’t feel like talking about,” she said.
He seemed to be wrestling with a thought. “We all have our stories. But, Lana, you may want to know that the last time I spoke to Jack, we were out riding. The sun was going down just like it is now, with that orange ribbon of light along the summit. He stopped and out of nowhere said, ‘If something should happen to me in the war, can you find my daughter and bring her here? Help look after her?’”
All the air went out of Lana’s lungs. Grant was watching her closely, his eyes catching the day’s final light. Mauna Loa was fading into shadow.
“No offense, but what made him think I would leave my house and run off with a stranger?” she said.
He shrugged. “I can’t answer that, but I do know he thought you belonged here, not on O‘ahu.”
A nagging voice told her that Jack had been right. O‘ahu was not home, never had been, and despite the circumstances, there was a strange feeling of rightness here. “I guess I saved you the trouble,” she said.
“I promised him, and my promises stand. I would have found a way.”
“How was he so sure that there was going to be a war? People don’t just go around building houses based on rumors and hearsay,” she said.
“He said he was tuned in somehow. He tried to warn people, but no one listened. People dismissed him as an eccentric.”
“He was an eccentric.”
“Eccentric and wise.”
Grant seemed to have a real fondness and understanding of her father. “You really cared about him, didn’t you?” she said.
“Sure did. And that leads me back to my original question.” He paused for a few breaths. “Is Mr. Hitchcock still around?”
Lana had begun to think he had forgotten. But now, in light of the new information, his question made more sense. He felt an obligation to look out for her, based on a promise to a friend. She owed him an honest answer. “Mr. Hitchcock is on O‘ahu and we are separated.”
“A permanent separation?”
Now that she was removed, looking at her situation from the other end of the island chain, it seemed so clear. It had simply been a matter of her head catching up with her heart. Even if this war hadn’t happened, she would have found a reason to stay here. Returning to Buck was an impossibility, like breathing underwater. It was no longer an option.
“Not formally yet, but I won’t be going back.”
As the words lifted off her tongue, she felt lighter and more spacious. There was even a faint hum in the room that seemed to be emanating from somewhere inside her chest. Could he hear it? She could have sworn Grant smiled, but it was so fast, it quickly disappeared.
“So then it wouldn’t hurt to have someone up here keeping an eye on you,” he said.
“I appreciate your concern, but as I mentioned before, I have things under control.”
Losing Jack was like losing the whole backdrop of her life. There was no going back and no longer a heart to which you were tethered unconditionally.
Before Grant could respond, Uncle Theo appeared in the doorway. Lana was both relieved and disappointed.
“Greetings, my friends!” he bellowed. “Sorry to intrude, but I’m going to have to draw the curtains lest we attract any enemy planes with our fire.”
“I should be going anyway. I need to feed the girls,” Lana said, pushing her chair out and standing to kiss him.
“You ladies are always welcome here for dinner. Just give me notice so I can prepare a feast. I can make my famous moussaka, a Greek version of lasagna. Maybe Major Bailey would like to join us?” Theo said, hitting Grant on the back so hard he nearly toppled forward.
“That’d be nice, sir,” Grant said.
They said goodbye and walked out into a cool and star-kissed sky. She could feel him next to her, a presence as big as the volcanoes all around them. Neither spoke. Nearby, a cricket turned up the volume and a motor rumbled in the distance.
When they reached her truck, he opened the door but stood blocking her way. “What do you say we try again? Not only with the horses and getting ‘Ohelo’s knee fixed up, but you and me. It feels like we got off to a rocky start and it only went downhill from there. I’m not asking for anything in return,” Grant said.
She knew she should say no, but the word would not come. “That would be fine.”
There was still enough light to see him smile, then quick as a hawk, he swooped in and kissed her on the cheek, one hand on her lower back. Before she could even react, he had pulled away.
“I’ll be there tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours. Sweet dreams,” he said, disappearing into the night.