25

THE BEACH

They did not have to wait long to find out more about the anticipated attack. Two days later, Nixon briefed the WARDs that the Imperial Japanese Navy was amassing battleships and carriers in its home waters, presumably to launch another assault. But now, instead of Pearl Harbor and Hawai‘i as the main target, intel leaned more toward the Aleutians or possibly Midway atoll.

“However, we can’t rule anything out. The entire Second Fleet has been silent for days now, which is never a good sign,” Nixon said.

Daisy would have never imagined this life for herself. Speaking in code, the ability to recite names of half the ships in the Imperial Japanese Navy, and conversing with pilots with ease. But the fact that she hadn’t seen a horse in weeks, or swam in the ocean, added an extra layer of strain. Which was why she invited the girls to spend a night at her beach house on their next day off—a Sunday. Who knew when they might get another chance.

They had no trouble finding kitten sitters, as every WARD on their block would show up at any hour of day or night for a visit. Most of the kittens were already spoken for, including one named Twinkletoes who had a tendency to spring into the air when she was the least bit excited. Daisy had claimed her for her own.

Betty packed a picnic basket and a cooler with bread and Spam, dill pickles, apple bananas and ginger ale. Fluff threw in a bottle of wine. With rations the way they were, only certain foods were available on any given day. Lei, their regular supplier of hard-to-find items, was too busy at home to join them. Daisy suspected there was more trouble with George.

Before they even hit the pineapple fields, Fluff said, “Yesterday, I had a nice conversation with Cheerio, and there’s something about him that just seems so adorable. Can you help me find out more about him?” Fluff said, leaning forward from the back seat. Cheerio was a new Oscar who had all the girls talking.

“Have you not learned anything?” Betty said.

Fluff sighed. “One bad experience is not going to sour my opinion of men in general. I still have hope.”

“Keep the hope, but avoid men we work with.”

Daisy couldn’t help but add her two cents. “I know what you mean about Cheerio, though. He always has something sweet or funny to say, and he seems genuine. Did he mention the bird to you?”

“Yes! What kind of man does that?” Fluff said.

Last week on a call, every time Cheerio tried to give the reading, a loud squawk erupted in the background. He kept saying in a voice like a warm blanket, “Easy there, mate.” When Daisy asked about it, he told her he’d rescued an injured seabird and was nursing it back to health at the Wai‘anae Radar Station.

“Still. Keep it professional. You know they don’t like us getting chatty with the Oscars,” Betty said.

Fluff ignored her. “Do you think there’s a way to meet him in person?”

“Short of going out there and visiting the station, no. And look what happened with our last visit,” Daisy said.

Fluff rolled down the back window, letting in the fresh morning air. “Don’t you ever wonder what the Oscars all look like? Some of them sound so manly, like radio announcers, and others sound like someone’s kid brother. I would love to get a bunch of mug shots and have to match the face with the voice,” she said.

Fluff had graduated from filling out chits for each flight to taking readings, and she was very efficient at her job. Everyone moved along at their own pace, and though Fluff was not so mechanically inclined, her verbal skills were outstanding. “What if you went through all this trouble to meet him, and then discovered he was a real dog? Then what?” Betty asked.

She sat quiet for a while and then said, “Getting to know a man before you know what they look like could be a godsend. That way, you’re basing everything on personality. And personality is what matters most in life.”

“A noble idea,” Betty said.

“And a true one.”

“What kind of name is Cheerio anyways? It sounds British,” Betty said.

Fluff shrugged. “I got the scuttlebutt that the other guys started calling him Cheerio since he uses the word so much and always signs off saying cheerio. I guess it stuck.”

“We ought to set up a case file on him. You know, like Sherlock Holmes might do,” Daisy said, half joking.

“Great minds think alike,” Fluff said with a grin.

“I learned from the best.”


Knee-high grass and fallen coconut fronds scattered about the yard gave the place an abandoned feel. That and the rusted-out car and tin roof. A hot rush of shame surfaced for about two seconds before Daisy remembered that she was among friends. From day one, none of these women had judged her—pants and all. They weren’t about to start now.

After unpacking, the girls peeled off their clothes and made a beeline for the ocean, blue and flat and silent. Falling into its cool waters, they floated and frolicked and watched the albatross soar overhead.

“Have you ever seen an albatross chick?” Daisy asked.

“Never.”

“Right now, they’re adorable little fluff balls, but in later June, they’ll have their full plumage and leave for a few years at sea.”

Daisy used to spend hours traipsing through the dunes, counting the baby birds and creating a map in her head of where each one waited patiently for their parents to bring back squid and fish eggs for them. Now and then, she’d find one dead and run home in tears. Her father would say, “It’s the way of nature. Those baby birds are now feeding the worms and the ants and the earth.” His words always settled her.

Fluff stared up in awe. “Look at that wingspan. We could practice plotting them. Unidentified bogey bearing two-seven-zero and holding steady. Intercept needed.”

“They’re beautiful. A wonder they aren’t picked up on radar,” Betty said.

On the beach, they lay side by side, three hues of human. Fluff, with her naturally copper skin, Daisy the color of light ochre, and Betty, who was nearly as pale as the sand. Their bodies heated up within minutes, spring leaning toward summer.

Betty got up and pulled her towel four feet over, into the shade. “Let’s pretend for the next few hours that there is no war, that all our loved ones are still living and breathing, and that this patch of sand is where we get to live for the rest of our days.”

Fluff and Daisy joined her and time moved as slowly as a grazing turtle. Daisy enjoyed every minute of doing absolutely nothing. Just before lunch, they took a long walk on the beach, ready to dart into the bushes if any planes appeared overhead—Japanese or American.

Fluff was determined to see where Daisy once worked, and before they knew it, they were nearing Montgomery Ranch.

“Let’s turn around now,” Daisy said before they rounded the last bend.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Fluff said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

It was Sunday. Maybe a sneak peek would be okay. “Just duck behind an ironwood if you see anyone. I don’t want Mr. Montgomery to think there’s a prowler on the loose.”

They approached the edge of the field cautiously, rushing from tree to tree. From what Daisy could see, only the horses were there. A handful were out grazing in the pasture, tails swishing. Patches of dandelion dotted the field. The stables blocked part of the view of the driveway, so she couldn’t be sure about vehicles, but there was a certain vacancy in the air.

“Why, it’s perfectly charming! No wonder you didn’t want to leave. And this all belongs to Montgomery?” Fluff said, quietly.

“Every last blade of grass.”

Betty, who wore a wide-brimmed hat to protect her fair skin, stole up to the fence. “Didn’t you say no one is here on Sundays?”

“Mr. Silva checks in on the horses in the afternoon and feeds and waters them. Why?”

“What if you gave us a quick riding lesson?” Betty said with a wicked grin.

“Absolutely not!” Daisy said. At the noise, a couple of the nearby horses raised their heads and were now staring at the girls. Wind and M¯akaha. Grass hung from their mouths.

“Hey, fellas!” Daisy said, just loud enough for their sensitive ears to hear. “It’s me, your favorite carrot and guava slinger.”

At the sound of her voice, Wind immediately trotted over, head high. M¯akaha followed at his hooves. Soon, both horses stood at the fence with their muzzles in her hand, blowing and snorting and vying for rubs. Their soft whiskers tickled, sending warm tendrils up Daisy’s arms and around her heart.

“Look at them. They love you, plain as day,” Fluff said.

Daisy pressed her head against Wind, inhaling his earthy scent. “I’ve missed you beautiful beasts.”

“They want us to ride them, especially the big dark one,” Fluff said, eyeing the horse.

Daisy waved her off. “Enough with that. We aren’t going to ride them. Talk about a foolish move. I’m already in enough hot water with the Montgomery family.”

But the way Wind was looking at her, she knew Fluff was right. From across the field, two more horses made their way over. Nalu and Whiskey. And then Apple. Daisy thought about Moon. He would have been the first one over. She felt his absence smack in the center of her chest.

Could they?

It was still early, not even lunchtime. And Mr. Silva played cards at lunch with his buddies. He never missed a Sunday.

“You’re quite popular with them,” Fluff said.

“No one will know, and I bet these horses can keep a secret,” Betty pressed.

Daisy glanced around. Listened for signs of life. It would be foolish and daring, but she knew that the odds were in their favor. Unless, of course, the Japanese showed up again.

“I won’t be caught stealing horses a second time.”

Fluff stroked Wind’s neck. “Who said we’re going to get caught?”

Before Daisy knew what she was doing, she had three horses lined up along the fence. Nalu and Apple were the two most docile creatures on the ranch, and would be perfect for Fluff and Betty.

Daisy briefed them on bareback basics. “We’ll just do a big loop around the field. Stay in line with me and hold lightly on the mane without tugging.”

They used the fence to mount, and once the girls were in place, Daisy hopped on Wind and gave him a gentle kick. The polo field was huge, and they stuck to the inside perimeter of the fence. All the smells of the place made Daisy feel more homesick than she thought possible. A heady mixture of manure and kiawe wood, salt and seaweed.

Behind her, Fluff squealed, “I’m in love already.”

Daisy turned to see both friends glowing. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and was sending down beams of light around them. It was a scene straight from a painting. Being able to give them this day, this small fragment of joy, made it all worth it.

“Y’all want to pick up the pace?” Betty said.


Daisy kicked Wind a little harder. They rode past the stables, underneath a cluster of massive ironwoods, and clear across the field. She knew the horses would alert her to anyone approaching, but she still felt jumpy. They were halfway across when Wind’s ears twitched. His head swung right. Daisy looked back toward the driveway and saw a cloud of dust rising up through the trees. Horsefeathers! They were on the wrong side of the field for someone to come. If she had been alone, she would have galloped across to the beach and been gone in a few breaths. But not with Fluff and Betty. Someone would get hurt. With no time to waste, she slid off Wind and ran back to Fluff.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s coming. Hurry, put your foot in my hand and swing your leg over.”

Fluff did as instructed, and then Daisy went to Betty. The car would pull in any moment. Daisy felt the same sense of panic as when Moon had run off. Their only hope was to hop the fence and lay flat in the knee-high grass.

“I thought no one came on Sundays,” Fluff said.

Daisy ignored her and ran. “Follow me.”

It felt like the longest run in her life. Barefoot and breathless, she hopped the fence and rolled down behind a clump of grass. Her heart thundered against her ribs. Betty and Fluff trailed ten yards behind, and right when they hit the fence, Mr. Montgomery’s Ford rolled in.

“Hurry!” she called.

Obviously, neither girl was used to hopping fences, and Fluff’s dress snagged. “I can’t get it undone,” she said, frantically tugging and yanking.

Betty made it over and lay flat next to Daisy.

“Take it off,” Daisy whispered.

Fortunately, the driveway faced the ocean, so unless Mr. Montgomery had reason to be looking this way, it was possible he hadn’t noticed them yet. Daisy prayed. A moment later, Fluff wiggled free of her dress and joined them in her swimsuit. A car door slammed.

“It’s Mr. Montgomery. Let’s hope he doesn’t notice your dress.”

“Good thing it’s green,” Betty said.

They lay there for a few moments catching their breath, watching Montgomery. He pulled a bucket out of the back of the truck and went into the stables. Daisy looked over at her friends, wild-eyed and red-faced. Fluff in her swimsuit. Betty as flat to the ground as she could press herself. Daisy couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny, Wilder?” Fluff asked.

“You two. Us. Seems like we have a knack for getting ourselves into prickly situations.”

“I’d be laughing too if this grass wasn’t so damn itchy,” Fluff said, a smile stealing over her face.

“Whose dumb idea was this, anyway?” Betty said.

“Yours,” Daisy and Fluff said in unison.

Betty put a hand over her mouth and broke out giggling. Fluff followed suit. Soon, the three of them were in stitches, trying desperately to keep the noise down. Daisy got a mouthful of grass in the process. When the laughter finally stopped, she darted out and tore Fluff’s dress away. The last thing they needed was for the cowboys to find a mysterious dress pinned to the fence.

“Come on, let’s make a run for the beach while he’s still inside,” she said.

They half stumbled, half crawled through patches of grass, dried-out stumps and thorny lantana. At any moment, Daisy expected to hear a yell or a shout. But they made it. When they spilled out onto the sand, they tore down the beach without looking back. It wasn’t until they made it around the first bend that they sat down in the sand to rest.

“You belong there,” Fluff said once they’d caught their breath.

“Not anymore.”

“We’ll see about that.”


After lunch, Daisy brought them into her mother’s room because Fluff was interested in her book collection and they wanted a break from the afternoon sun. Daisy had no use for any of the old tomes, and Fluff was a self-proclaimed bibliophile.

“You’re welcome to any of them.”

Daisy opened the louvers and propped herself on the bed, kicking up her heels. The salt on her skin rubbed off on the bedspread. Betty and Fluff, still in their bathing suits, pulled out book after book. Fluff held one up and said, “The Mysterious Affair at Styles! This is a great book. Or this one—have you read The Great Gatsby?”

Daisy had not. Nor most of the other books in here. “Not yet.”

As a girl, Daisy had always thought Louise so intelligent. She wanted to love books the same way, but her brain had other plans. She was off in a daydream when she noticed a floorboard raised up on the far side of the bed, half-hidden under the frayed skirt. It stuck up a good half inch above the rest. Curious, she leaned down and pressed on it. Nothing happened. The wood appeared too swollen to fit back in its spot.

“Hand me that letter opener, would you?” she said to Betty.

“What for?”

“I want to see what’s under here.”

They all crowded around as Daisy wiggled the metal between the wide board and the floor. This time, it came up easily. Her heart pumped faster when she saw what was in it.

“Well, I’ll be,” said Fluff.

Daisy held an envelope in her shaky hands. It was addressed to her mother, but unopened. She sat on the bed and the girls circled around her. The writing looked vaguely familiar, a tall and narrow block print.

“We should open it,” Fluff said.

“No we shouldn’t. It’s not addressed to us,” Betty argued.

Curiosity swarmed through her, fanning the inside of her chest. Daisy tore it open.

Dear Mrs. Wilder,

This letter is both an apology and an explanation, though I know neither can replace your tragic loss. By now, my father has come to speak to you, and you know the truth about what happened to Billy. It was by my bidding, as I demanded you get the facts. We also went to Sheriff Santos and reported the real story. He took our statements and filed them, changing cause of death to Accidental Death by Gunshot.

Mrs. Wilder, I understand why you want nothing to do with me and why you’ve refused to let me in, but I need to get it off my chest. I was there. I witnessed the accident. I saw my father slip down the hill and his gun discharge at the bottom. There was no malice, no intent, and despite our best efforts, Uncle Billy died swiftly with little or no suffering. Where things took a wrong turn was when my father asked the boys and me to lie for him. He was frantic and not thinking clearly. But when my father gets something stuck in his head, there’s no swaying him. He convinced us it would be better for everyone involved, when really, it was better for him. For some odd reason he was worried he’d be accused of murder.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Uncle Billy. He taught me everything I knew about horses. I miss him, and I would not be able to sleep another night without telling you how sorry I am. I wish I could do it face-to-face, and maybe someday I’ll get the chance. If there is anything you or Daisy should ever need, please don’t hesitate to ask. I will move mountains to make sure it happens.

Sincerely,

Walker Montgomery

By the time Daisy finished reading, she had dropped onto the bed next to Fluff, their knees touching. No one spoke for a full minute. The whoosh of wind through ironwoods was the only noise.

Fluff finally broke the silence. “Lord, this can’t be good. Can you tell us what it says?”

Daisy handed her the letter. “Read it out loud, so Betty can hear.”

Fluff read, swallowing hard between sentences. Her voice trailed off as she read Walker’s name. She lowered the note and turned those big, beautiful eyes on Daisy. They were full of tears. “What a horrible burden to bear.”

“Why wouldn’t your mother tell you? Are you sure Mr. Montgomery told her?” Fluff asked.

“I’m not sure of anything,” Daisy said. “Other than Walker was telling the truth about going to see my mom.”

A fully formed image of Walker as a teenager emerged in her mind. The letter was hand delivered, not mailed. She had come home after a long day at the ranch and bumped into Walker coming out of her driveway. He rarely spoke to her, unless required to, and when he saw her, he stopped in his tracks.

“Miss Wilder,” he said, awkwardly.

No one ever put a Miss in front of Wilder.

“Mr. Montgomery,” she said back, tired and unable to muster up any politeness. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer at first, then mumbled something she couldn’t hear, and said, “Just passing through.”

She remembered him looking at her funny, and saying a few more senseless things before continuing on his way. Back then, he seemed so much older than Daisy. A real man. Her mother appeared to be out cold on the bed when she peeked in on her, and when Daisy asked about Walker the next day, Louise had no answers. For weeks, Daisy wondered why Walker had been in their yard, and then she forgot about it.

Now, she realized without a doubt that he had tried to make things right all those years ago.