Somewhere Between Black and White (15 page)

Eighteen

Burma,
1944

It was a sweltering summer day as the
soldiers used wooden boards to wash their clothes in the Irrawaddy River. Other
soldiers were bathing in the river, which was a treat compared to using a
helmet full of water in the middle of the jungle.

Matthew, a Kansas boy, joined the Army
at nineteen and was in Burma by the time he was twenty. A member of the 164
^th
Signal Photo Company, he was a combat cameraman, and it was his job to
communicate the stories of the China-Burma-India Theater. 

Matthew was drawn to the beauty of the
Burmese temples, many of them in ruins from battle, and photographed them with
keen interest. During his time there, he spent a great number of days with
Chinese soldiers, one of whom he learned was Buddhist. He befriended this
soldier, who knew enough English for the two of them to converse. His name was
Ping, meaning
tranquil
, and he was two years Matthew’s senior. Being a
nosy creature, Matthew often asked Ping about his faith, and Ping was of a very
agreeable nature to answer.

“Ping,” Matthew began as he pulled off
his boots.  “How do you come to terms with all this war bullshit? Being that
you’re a Buddhist.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, aren’t Buddhists all about
non-violence?”

“Of course,” Ping replied. “Aren’t
Christians?”

Matthew responded with a wry laugh. “You
gotta point there, ol’ Ping.” He perched himself on a flat rock and threw a
stone into the water. “When I was a kid, I learned all about how Jesus taught us
to turn the other cheek, love your enemy, all that other crap. I gotta say, I’m
havin’ a real hard time lovin’ the Japs right about now.”

“When you were a kid?” Ping said with a
grin. “You are still a kid. We both are.”

“Yeah?  We’re old enough to be over here
gettin’ bombed by the Japs, and me takin’ pictures of the whole damn party.”

Ping gazed at the children from a nearby
village who were playing farther down the riverbank. “War is part of this world.
Sometimes fighting is not avoided, maybe needed.” He wrung the water from his
shirt and laid it on a board. “But hate is not.”

Matthew liked that answer. He would
never say it aloud, but he was grateful for this young sage in his life, in
this of all places. “All right, Ping. You’re doin’ good so far. Now I just need
you to improve my attitude about being away from my Natalie.” He pulled out the
war-torn photo that he kept of his sweetheart, the one that waited for him back
home, and showed it to him. “Conjure me up somethin’ warm and fuzzy about the
Japs, because the way I see it, they’re the ones keeping me from her.”

Ping smiled at the photo. “She is
lovely.” He thought to himself for a few moments before his face registered the
words that came to mind. “There is a passage I learned when I was young.” He
took a seat on the board alongside Matthew.

“Well,
what’re you waitin’ for?” Matthew asked, not taking his eyes from the photo.
“Hit me with it.”

He who treads
the Path in earnest

Sees not the
mistakes of the world;

If we find fault
with others

We ourselves are
also in the wrong.

When neither
hatred nor love disturb our mind

Serenely we sleep.

Nineteen

Sophie eagerly welcomed Sam home from
his two-day excursion to see a football game with an old friend. She had barely
opened the front door when she flung herself at him, wrapping her legs around
his hips and planting a kiss on him.

“I missed you, too.” He grinned and carried
her over the threshold while she hung on to him.

“Sorry. I’m just happy to see you.” She lowered
her feet to the floor and noticed the camera hanging from a strap on his
shoulder. “Sam, why do you have your camera?” she asked with mild amusement.

“I have some great shots of the game I
wanted to show you.”

She shook her head. “You are worse about
taking pictures than my dad was, and I didn’t think that was possible.” In the
short time they had been together, he must have taken hundreds of photos in her
presence.

Sophie took the camera from him and set
it on an end table. “Show them to me later,” she said, leading him down the
hall. “That was a very long couple of days.”

“You know what they say about absence. Umm,
where are you taking me, miss?”

“Hmmm. You know damn well where I’m taking
you.” When they reached the bedroom, she had candles burning and music playing.
She shoved him onto the bed and pounced on top of him.

Sam groaned, as if he were crushed by
her weight.

“Watch it, buddy.”

He snuck a peek down her shirt. “Oh, I’m
watching it.” 

“Well, then let me make it easier for
you.” She smiled as she removed her top.

His eyebrows rose with pleasure. “I need
to schedule time away more often, if this is the kind of homecoming I can look
forward to.”

“No need.” She ran her fingers through
his wavy hair. “Didn’t you know that my infatuation with you has brought out my
inner horndog?”
Uh oh
. She was beginning to lose that filter she tried
so hard to maintain. “You can ask any of my old beaus; this is not
characteristic behavior for me.”

“Infatuation? I hope it’s more than
infatuation. Besides, I’d rather not consider your other boyfriends. The
thought of someone else touching you is disturbing.”

They were silent for a few still moments,
and her fingertips tingled as they brushed his lips. Adrenaline rushed at the anticipation
of being his, that little squiggly sensation running through her insides. She
hung her head in melodramatic fashion and sighed. “Why can’t things just stay
like this?” 

Sam stroked her cheek. “Because we’d
kill each other off, that’s why. We’re not rabbits.”

Sophie cracked up. “Maybe I like being a
rabbit.”

“And I like how your laugh comes so easily.”
He pushed her hair away from her face as he gazed up at her. “No laughing in
bed, though. It’s not allowed.”

She smiled softly, and his expression
grew intent. “God, Sophie.” He exhaled as though he’d been holding his breath.
“When you look at me like that. . .”

“Like what?”

“Do you have any idea?” He searched her
eyes, his voice husky. “Do you?”

His hands began to roam her flesh, awakening
every nerve. For a moment, her words caught in her throat. “More than you
know,” she whispered. She rested her cheek on his chest, its thrumming inside
giving her a welcome exhilaration.

“I know to say this is unoriginal.” His
fingers traced over her shoulder blades. “But when I touch you . . . I’m home.”

Damn
him and his beautiful words!
Sophie squeezed him as
hard as she could before taking his face in her hands and kissing him with a passion
she never knew she possessed.

Later that afternoon, Sophie lay tucked
inside Sam’s arm. With his hand draped across her, he buried his face into her
hair. “So, what would you like to do for New Year’s Eve?”

“You’re lookin’ at it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mmm hmm.” She nodded.

“Are you
sure
?”

She sat up, holding the blankets close
to her body; the room was a little too chilly for her liking. She narrowed her
eyes. “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Well,” he said as he got out of bed,
reaching for his pants and taking out his wallet. “I thought, since you said
Disneyland is your favorite place in the world. . . .” He pulled out two
tickets and held them up, before handing them to her.

“Awww!” She held them to her chest. “This
will be so wonderful! And Disneyland is so gorgeous at Christmas time.” He
joined her in bed, and she drew him in for a smooch. “Thank you. I love it.”

“Thank
you
, for being a woman who
prefers Disneyland to expensive jewelry.”

“What do you mean? Disneyland isn’t
cheap, so we’re going in halves on—” 

Sam placed his hand over her mouth so
that she couldn’t finish.

“Whum?” she mumbled.

“Just shut up,” he ordered.

“Um uh uying!”

“Shh!”

Finally, she stopped trying to talk and
lay still. He slowly removed his hand, and she remained silent for a few more seconds.
“I’m just sayin’, we’re splitting the—”

He planted his palm on her mouth again.
“My God, woman! Don’t you ever stop?”

She shook her head, her eyes smiling,
before starting to giggle.

“Read my lips,” he said, his face inches
from hers. “We are not talking about this anymore.”

She took his hand and pulled it from her
face. “Okay!  But can I at least buy you a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt? Maybe some
ears?”

“Yes. Yes, you can.”

“Sheesh, so bossy!”

“So,” he said, running his fingers along
her shoulder. “Now that we’ve gotten our hellos out of the way, go ahead and
give me the dirt on your sister.”

“Urgh.” Sophie made a disgruntled face.
Since Sam had left the morning after Christmas, she hadn’t yet given him the
details of Evie’s heartbreak. They had spoken briefly while he was gone, but
she didn’t want to burden him with her family drama while he was on his trip.

“What was the fight about?” He referred
to the palpable discord between Evie and Christian that night. “What did he do
now?”

“Pisstian?”

Sam repressed a smirk; apparently he
couldn’t help but be amused by her all-encompassing distaste for her
brother-in-law. 

“Oh,
Piss
tian cheated on her.”

“Wait a minute. So he really was
cheating?”

“No, not when I talked to him. Well, who
knows? Maybe he was. But apparently, this happened
after
I met him that
day. With some woman who was at his gallery exhibition.”

“Geez.” Sam grimaced. “What a blow. How’s
Evie?”

“Completely destroyed, of course.”

“How did she find out?”

“I guess he told her the night it
happened. That’s why there was so much friction between them on Christmas.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully.

“So get this,” Sophie continued. “She’s
trying to decide if she wants to work it out.”

“Uh huh . . . And?”

“
And?
And what?”

“So you think it should be a deal
breaker.”

“And you
don’t
?”

“I think it’s a deal breaker if Evie
feels it is. And it isn’t if she doesn’t.”

Sophie shook her head in disbelief. “How
can you say that? It’s the ultimate betrayal! You mean to tell me that if I
cheated on you, you could overlook it?”

“Overlook it—no. Get past it—Maybe? Honestly,
I don’t know what I would do.” He scratched his temple. “Sometimes we’re sure how
we would deal with something, and then when it actually happens, we discover we
were wrong.”

“But how can she ever trust him again?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But people
work through it.”

“Wow.” There was an edge to her voice.
“I gotta say I’m shocked.”

“People work through it,” he reasserted
firmly. 

Sophie gaped at him. 

Sam went silent for a moment. “My own
parents did.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Who was the guilty one?” Sophie asked.

“Both of them.”

“
Both
of them?”  Her eyes grew
large. “And how do you even know this? Did they tell you?”

“Oh, God no.” He winced and briefly
closed his eyes. “But I overheard the fights when I was a teenager. I don’t
know when it happened, if it was years before, or during that timeframe. I
don’t know the details, who wronged who first, and I really don’t want to.
Actually I would sort of like to know the details, simply because I find people
so interesting. But as their son—no. I don’t need to know.”

He got out of bed to look out the window
as the threatening gray sky now unleashed its showers. Thunder faintly boomed
in the distance. “Nice.” He pulled on his boxers. “I was hoping it would rain.”

Still absorbing Sam’s surprising bit of
info about his parents, Sophie thought about when he had spoken of them before,
how they were devoted to one another, yet diametric as fire and water. “Huh.”
Sophie pondered.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Evie told me that even
after what he’s done, she still can’t help feeling they belong together. Like
he’s her soul mate or something. How can he be her soul mate?”

“Easy,” Sam answered, still gazing
outside. “But I have a different definition of soul mate than most people.”