Tracie Peterson (7 page)

“Why, because we can hide our identity and the Nisei can’t?”

“It just isn’t the same. Your family has been nothing but kind to me.”

“And the Akimotos have been nothing but kind to me. They were the first to come see me when we heard about Pearl Harbor. They waited day after day, along with us, for some news of Kenny. They mourned with us when that news came and they remained supportive
of our family right up until the day they were taken away to the internment camp.” She paused and placed the photograph on the side table before turning to take hold of David’s right hand. “David, you can’t bear this anger and bitterness much longer. It’s eating you up inside. People are people. There are bad and good ones in every group. Even so, hatred only destroys the hater.”

He frowned and looked at his hands. The left one useless, the right one balled into a fist. “I’ve had a lifetime of training,” he said in a barely audible voice. “It isn’t that easy to let go of what you know best.”

“I know.”

He shook his head and met her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t know how awful I’ve been. You don’t know how I’ve failed. If you knew the real me, you’d never even want me in this house. I can barely stand to stay in Kenny’s room for the guilt I feel.” He kept shaking his head. “At first it was a comfort to feel that close to Kenny. I mean, it might be hard to imagine caring about your superior officer that way, but Kenny was a brother to me. He cared when no one else cared.”

“I know,” Ruth said again.

David could see the understanding in her eyes, but his heart told him it was impossible. His mind condemned him—accused him both honestly and falsely. She couldn’t understand.

“David, if I know my Kenny, I know he shared the gospel with you. I know he would have told you how Jesus came to earth to die for your sins and mine. No matter what you’ve done—no matter how well you think you’ve concealed the truth—Jesus knows.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “And better yet, He loves you just the same.”

“He can’t,” David replied. “He can’t know everything and still love me. I’m a lost cause.”

“He specializes in lost causes, David. He leaves the flock of ninety-nine safe and secure in the pen and goes after that one lost sheep—that one lost cause. His love for you will heal your hurt, David. You can trust His love. You can trust mine too.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth about me,” David said, hanging his head. She couldn’t love him. He was unlovable.

Rachel knew that her mother had come back early from church to be with David. She knew her mother’s concern for their sad visitor. Rachel wished she could have been the one to come back and stay with David, but she knew how that would have looked to the congregation. Not only that, but she also knew her mother was aware of her feelings for David.

Walking home from church, in order to give herself some quiet time alone, Rachel tried to better understand those feelings for herself. She tried not to label it with words, but in truth she had fallen in love with David Cohen. There was no other explanation for the way she felt, and yet it didn’t surprise her. Truth be told, Rachel had felt a fondness for David ever since Kenny’s first letter about him. He was a rascal—a rogue—and yet Kenny had seen something special in him and so had Rachel. Her bond to Kenny had perhaps bolstered her ability to see good in his friend, but so too had her confidence in her older brother’s keen discernment.

Glancing toward the latticework clouds, Rachel wondered if Kenny could look down from heaven to see her. Could he know what she was going through right now—that she had fallen in love with his friend?

“Ken, I wish you were here. I’d talk this all through with you if you were,” Rachel said softly. “I know you’d understand. You loved him too. He was like a brother to you, and even though he caused you all kinds of grief, you knew it wasn’t personal. You knew there was value in this man, and so do I.”

Rachel shoved her gloved hands into her worn coat pockets and drew a couple of deep breaths. “How do I do this, God? How do I help David to look beyond his anger and bitterness? How do I help him to heal?” She fixed her gaze down the lane ahead and continued walking. Surely God would give her the answers she needed. Surely He would show her what to do.

Curlicue lines of smoke rose from every house along the street, with exception to Mrs. Mendelson’s house. The old woman was such a dear, Rachel thought. Year after year she gave her best, and even if her best was the dreaded fruitcake, Rachel loved her elderly neighbor. She could fondly remember days when Mrs. Mendelson and Grandma Bennett had sat on the porch together, talking of days gone by. There was always some story to tell, some memory to draw upon.

Pausing at Mrs. Mendelson’s front gate for just a moment, Rachel couldn’t help but smile as she remembered a story the old woman had told. That was it! That was her answer. Mrs. Mendelson had told of her brother’s deep heartache when his family had been lost at sea while crossing the Atlantic to join him in America. The man had been devastated, nearly suicidal, as Rachel recalled from the account. Yet Rachel also remembered that Mrs. Mendelson’s brother had gone on to do great things in the field of medical research. She couldn’t say exactly what it was he had accomplished, but she remembered Mrs. Mendelson’s great pride in telling how he would never have brought about the knowledge and helped so many people if he’d given up on life to die with his family.

“
How did you help him?
” Rachel remembered asking as they sat quilting one winter’s day.

“
We loved him through it
,” Mrs. Mendelson had answered so matter-of-factly, and Grandma Bennett had nodded knowingly.

Rachel had been but a child, and the wisdom was not totally captured by her innocent heart. But now as a young woman who had endured the pain of loss, Rachel knew the truth of it. Wasn’t that how they had dealt with Kenny’s death? Wasn’t that what her mother had tried to show her all along?

Rachel smiled and looked heavenward. “We’ll love him through it, Lord. That’s how we’ll help him.”

Picking up her pace, Rachel nearly burst through the front door of her house. She found David seated in a contemplative mood before the fireplace.

“You look half frozen,” Ruth said, coming into the hallway as Rachel was hanging up her coat. “Why didn’t you ride home with your father and sister?”

Rachel shivered, feeling the cold for the first time. “I needed the walk.” She took off her hat and carefully placed it on the closet shelf.

Her mother nodded knowingly. “Well, lunch is nearly ready. Why don’t you keep David company while Helen and I finish it up?” She winked at her daughter, and Rachel felt the cold begin to fade. Her mother did know how she felt.

David nodded as Rachel held her hands out to the fire. “You look cold.”

“I’m all right,” Rachel replied. “I enjoyed my walk, but now I intend to enjoy this fire.”

“Do you want me to put some more wood on?” he asked softly.

Rachel pulled up the ottoman and sat down close to the hearth. “No, it’s just fine. How’s your arm? Is the cold still bothering it?”

David looked away, seeming uncomfortable. “It’s better.”

“I’m glad. It’s my prayer that you can be free of your pain.”

He met her gaze, and the look on his face told Rachel that he fully understood the intent of her words.

“I doubt that can ever be the case.”

“Don’t doubt God, David. You may not have had a chance to know Him very well all these years, but He knows you and He loves you.” Rachel felt a boldness come over her. “He cares about you, and we care too.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t care if you knew me like God does,” David said in an almost sarcastic tone. He looked into the fire, shaking his head. “If He really knows everything, then I doubt He can care that much.”

“And if I can prove you wrong?”

He studied the fire in silence for several moments before returning his gaze to her face. “What are you saying?”

Rachel shrugged. “I’m just asking what you might do or say if I could prove you wrong.”

“I don’t know how you could possibly do that.”

Rachel stood up and grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”

He eyed her curiously and got to his feet. “What is this all about?”

“I think you know very well what this is all about. I want to prove something to you.”

Gently, she tightened her grip on his hand. “Come on,” she encouraged. She headed for the stairs. “I have something that I think will help.”

Rachel could tell by the look on David’s face that he didn’t believe her. In fact, she could tell by his expression that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend what she was about. But as if led by God’s hand, which she was sure had become the case, Rachel moved up the stairs in confidence.

“You wait in Kenny’s room,” she instructed when they reached the top landing. “I need to get something.”

He nodded and moved in the direction of the room while Rachel
went to her own bedroom. When she returned she extended the small white box she’d retrieved from under her bed.

“What’s this?” he asked, completely confused.

“Letters,” she replied. “Kenny’s letters home from about the time you joined him until two days before the bombing.”

David looked at the box, then took it from her. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Plenty,” she said smiling. “They’re mostly about you.”

“What?” He looked at the box again. “Me? Why me?”

She laughed. “Kenny felt God had put the two of you together for a reason. I want you to read those letters, David. I want you to see what Kenny saw—what he shared with us. Then I want to resume this conversation.”

David seemed barely able to draw breath. “Why? What more is there to say?”

“Read those letters first, and then ask me that question.”

David’s hand shook furiously as he reached to take off the lid of the shoe box. Why had Rachel done this? What was it that she intended for him to see? The lump in his throat refused to be put down.

He peered in the box and saw the accumulation of letters. Kenny’s letters. What would it be like to see Kenny’s heart and soul on the lines of hastily written notes home? Would it ring true? Would the real Kenny shine out from the thin airmail paper?

Bathed in silence, the room gave David a moment of uneasiness. It almost seemed he had come into a tomb—and in some ways perhaps he had. This shrine to Kenny’s memory had obviously been left to offer comfort to the family. It had done the same for David at first, but now it seemed more haunting. He could almost feel Kenny’s insistence that David strive toward something more than hatred and death. No doubt the letters would confirm this sensation.

Taking a seat at Kenny’s desk, David could only look at the letters in apprehension and fear. Rachel had been confident they would change things for him. She had said they would prove something. She had said they would prove him wrong. But wrong about what? David shuddered. Now he felt even more the intruder than when he’d first shown up at the house. How could he go through these letters—letters that Kenny had never believed would ever be shared with David? Yet Rachel found them important enough to share. She had insisted he read them and then come back to her with his doubts and questions and longings.

Picking up the first letter, David noted the date was nearly two and a half years prior to the date of Kenny’s death. It was just about the time David was facing a judge in Chicago. A judge whose idea of justice was to give David the choice of either going to jail for his thievery or joining the military. David had chosen the latter and that was how he met Kenny.

Dear sis
,

Thanks for the box of goodies. Never tasted anything so good in my life as your oatmeal cookies. Mom sure trained you right. You’re going to make a good wife someday. Tell Dad thanks so much for setting me up with my own subscription to the
Longview Daily News.
It’s like having a little bit of home here on board the ship. Sometimes it’s the little things that keep a guy going
.

David read on, seeing Kenny’s thoughts on the ship and way the navy did business. Kenny praised his superior officers and spoke of the good men he had working under his command. He talked of men David knew by name—dead men. Men entombed inside the
Arizona
at the bottom of Battleship Row, along with Kenny. He could see their faces, laughing, joking—forever young—gone in a moment that even now seemed too heinous to be real.