THE SURPRISE
Two months later, Walker showed up at Daisy’s shack at 0600 on the dot. He had told her he had a surprise for her, and to be waiting. “Bring a jacket,” he’d said.
When she hopped in the car, he leaned over and gave her a long, slow kiss. The kind that stirred up her insides and lit up her toes. Daisy had been enjoying his soft, warm touch as often as time permitted. She was back full-time at the beach shack, with Walker staying every chance he got. She’d spent some of her earnings replacing the roof with red corrugated tin, putting up new boards on the salt-blasted ocean side, as well as brushing it all with a fresh coat of paint. Fluff, who had stayed true to her word and visited often, insisted she now call it a cottage. Betty and Lei agreed.
Walker handed her a bandanna. “Here, cover your eyes with this.”
Daisy laughed, but obeyed.
They sped off down the road, and instead of heading up through the sugarcane fields, they veered left toward Hale‘iwa.
“You know that I know every single nook and cranny of this coastline, don’t you?” she told him.
“A man has to try.”
Daisy breathed in his scent as they rode along.
She wondered where they were headed, since they rarely went this way. Perhaps the Pali lookout, after a long, leisurely drive up the coast. Or maybe a dip in the calm blue waters of Waimea Bay. The ‘oama were running, but Walker probably had no idea. He was still half cowboy, half pilot, with few fisherman tendencies. That was fine with Daisy. A man and a woman should retain their own passions.
Five minutes later, he pulled off the main road, heading toward the ocean. Daisy could smell the sandy soil and the sweetness of kiawe pods. She knew exactly where they were and what the jacket was for.
“Have you guessed?” he said.
Hale‘iwa Field.
“Are you taking me up for a spin, Lieutenant?”
“Private planes are back in business.”
She slid the bandanna off and saw a big smile lighting up his face. “Have you notified Shafter?” she asked. The last thing they needed was a pair of P-40 pursuits showing up on their tail.
He squeezed her thigh. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
On several occasions over the past few years, Daisy and the girls had been taken to Hickam and given tours of the aircraft. Seeing these birds up close and running her hand along the seams of the sun-warmed metal wings had felt almost dreamlike. They’d even been allowed to sit in the cockpit with all its levers and gauges and buttons. But never once did they go up in the air. Now, Daisy realized she had been waiting for this moment since the day she’d heard Amelia Earhart say “There’s more to life than being a passenger.”
Their ride today would be a bright orange Aeronca TC-65 Defender. Several of the schools in town used them for flight lessons, and Walker was good friends with the owner of one. Apparently, he’d flown her out here yesterday. Ever thoughtful and full of surprises. Daisy was more and more smitten with him each day.
Walker patted the side of the plane. “This baby survived the attack on Pearl Harbor, circling at two thousand feet before being shot at by Zeroes. A miracle Vitousek managed to land her. A beauty, isn’t she?”
Daisy knew the story well. “Gorgeous. And she was one of the lucky ones, from what I’ve heard.”
Several other civilian planes had been shot down after encountering a sky full of Japanese planes on what had begun as a quiet Sunday morning all those years ago. Two pilots missing, two dead.
Once inside and strapped in, Walker briefed her on their route and handed her the mic. “All yours, Rascal.”
Daisy froze for a moment, but then experience took over. “Shafter Control Center, Aeronca N33768, at Hale‘iwa, ready for takeoff, heading north to circle island.”
A man responded, “Shafter, all clear Aeronca. Have a nice flight.”
Daisy could barely contain her excitement. The runway was bumpy and sand-blown, the propeller even louder than she’d imagined, sending vibrations through the back of her legs and rattling her teeth. But a rush of pure exhilaration coursed through her. She was flying!
“This thing must be like riding a tricycle after what you’re used to,” she said into the headset.
“Something like that.”
Looking down over the reef, she could see every coral formation, patch of sand and rocky inlet. So many shades of blue. It all looked so Technicolor, and so much more beautiful than she had imagined. As they passed Opana, Walker came in close and dipped a wing. Two men poured out of the truck and began waving their hats madly. Knowing they couldn’t see her, Daisy waved anyway.
“I sure miss talking to those Oscars. We might not have known a lot of them by face, but over time, they became almost like family. I suppose war has that effect on people,” she said.
Walker turned so she could see his face, nodding. “When lives are on the line, it ups the ante like nobody’s business.”
They followed the coastline, passing Kahuku and soaring next to the green, sawtooth ridge of the Ko‘olau Mountains and high above the milky-blue shallows. Where low clouds hung down, Walker flew around them. They were on the reverse route of the one Daisy and the girls had taken years back, when this whole thing began. She remembered how they ended up at Opana and shocked the pants off the guards. It brought a smile to her face. So much had happened in the time between.
Outside Mokapu and K¯ane‘ohe Bay Naval Air Station, flocks of seabirds—shearwaters, sooty terns and petrels—littered every square inch of rock. Daisy felt like she was finally one of them, loving the sensation of floating on air. But near Waimanalo, the plane suddenly lurched to the left and began a free fall. Her stomach went clear to the roof.
Grabbing hold of a bar on the inside of the plane, she yelled, “Whoa!”
Walker’s amused voice came on. “Relax, that was nothing. Just a little thermal.”
They soon leveled off, but bobbed around in a rough patch of air for a while. Daisy’s palms began to drip as Walker swooped in next to the cliffs, buzzing so close she could see the flowers on the vines.
Damn him. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you? Watching me sweat.”
She looked down to the foamy whitecaps far below. Tiny cotton balls. Maybe it was a good thing she’d stuck with horses.
“I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, honey,” he said.
“You know what I mean.”
He laughed. “The Daisy Wilder I know doesn’t sweat.”
On the South Shore, the bumps subsided and they glided past Diamond Head and out front of Waikiki, with people dotting the beach now that the barbed wire had been hauled off. Now, only coconut trees stood guard. The calm air soothed her nerves. Beyond Waikiki and Aloha Tower, they approached Pearl Harbor. Sandy shallows flanked the narrow channel that led into her three lochs—west, middle and east. From their vantage point, out beyond the breakers, Daisy spied the crisscrossing runways and hangars, and Battleship Row, which once again was lined with hulking, metal warships. Walker, who had been pointing out sights like an overly eager tour guide, grew quiet.
Goose bumps prickled her skin. The sound of hundreds of engines roared in her ears, loud as buzzsaws. Daisy swung her head around, half expecting to see a swarm of Japanese planes surrounding the little Defender. Smoke filled the cabin. Ash in her mouth, Daisy squeezed her eyes shut. Just a cloud, this is not happening, she repeated to herself.
Walker’s voice startled her out of it. “You okay back there, Rascal? Over.”
She found it hard to speak. “Affirmative, Captain. Just a little choked up.”
“You never quite get used to it,” he said, dipping a wing. “Flying over Pearl, I mean.”
Daisy saluted the blue water below. “Rest in peace, boys. Rascal, out.”
So many souls lost. Hearts broken. Needless horror. And yet Daisy thought of the boatloads of grit, mountains of courage and undaunted spirit that went along with it. This was what she wanted to remember. The good in the world had come out swinging. And won.