Page 41 of The Girls of Pearl Harbor
Eva stared at the water, not able to look at April.
‘I want you to know that I’m here for you. Losing Poppy, it’s like someone is kicking me in the stomach and winding me at times, and other times I carry on and don’t think about her. Then I feel so guilty that I’ve just gone about my day without acknowledging that she didn’t make it, that she’s not here with us.’
Eva opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She moistened her lips and tried again, shuddering as she fought to say the words. She wondered if April even knew what a blow to the stomachactuallyfelt like.
‘He was all I had,’ she finally managed. ‘It’s just, without him, I ...’
April took her hand and linked their fingers. ‘He’s not all you have, Eva. You have me and Grace—we’re here for you—and you have your family and your work.’
She shook her head, breathing in deep, then letting out a big loud exhale. ‘You don’t understand.’
April never let go of her hand. ‘Try me. You might be surprised.’
Eva wanted to tell her, but she couldn’t. She’d never told anyone the whole truth about her father; Charlie was the only one who’d ever known.
‘Maybe you should apply for leave? After what you’ve been through, you should be allowed to go home to your family, for a—’
‘No!’ she gasped, reeling at the thought of going back.
April looked surprised, her face a question mark of expression, but she recovered and patted her hand in a motherly kind of way. ‘All right, maybe not. But time off from work at least, for as long as you need.’
Eva shut her eyes, squeezing them, wondering if tears would stop the burning pain in her eyeballs. But still they didn’t come.
‘We can sit here all day if you like,’ April said, as if she were talking to a child. ‘Just you and me, for as long as you need. We don’t even have to talk.’
Eva wondered about Grace, whether she’d need her sister and come looking for them, but she didn’t ask. All she could think about was the feel of April’s warm hand in hers, the breeze lifting her loose hair from the back of her neck, and the roaring that was starting to get louder as she stared at the ocean.
Maybe it was the water calling to her, telling her that her idea about flinging herself into the aqua-blue depths was the right one. Or perhaps it was her body fighting against the pain, refusing to let her collapse into the web of grief that she knew must surely be waiting to catch her.
‘Farewell, my friend,’ she heard April whisper.
Farewell, Poppy,Eva thought, listening to the words echo in her mind.Goodbye, Charlie.
Perhaps the Japanese would bomb them to oblivion and reunite her with Charlie. Maybe their boat would sink, and she’d end up in the ocean anyway. Or maybe this was the world’s way of showing her that she didn’t deserve happiness. Maybe her father had been right.
Just when she’d found herself, found the one thing she was good at, the one thing that no one could take away from her, the rug had been pulled out from beneath her. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought it was her father playing a cruel trick on her to prove that she’d never, ever be able to escape him.
‘We’re going to survive this,’ April murmured to her. ‘No matter what, we’re going to get through this.’
Eva lay back on the sand, wondering if April was ever going to let go of her hand.
She had another two hours before she had to go back to her boat, and for now she was just going to lie. Be still. And then she’d go back, start her nighttime nursing shift, and do the one thing she was good at. Because if she had to suffer through all this, she could at least keep nursing the men who needed her. And it was better than sitting in bed and wondering what was wrong with her that she couldn’t even shed a tear for the man she loved and the friend she’d lost.
CHAPTER TEN
CHRISTMASEVE, 1941
APRIL
The thing about Hawaii was that it was never cold. Every day felt like summer; when it was raining, it was still tropical, and the humidity reminded April that she was on an island.It doesn’t even feel like Christmas tomorrow.It was strange, staring at the clouds as they rolled past overhead and trying to imagine that if they were at home, they’d be following all their usual Christmastime traditions. There would be a tree in the corner of the living room, adorned with pretty decorations their mother had collected when she was first married. April would be in charge of cooking Christmas lunch, as always, and Grace would be sitting on the counter picking at what April was preparing, her legs dangling as she chatted about everything and anything.
She’d often bemoaned having to be the one doing everything at Thanksgiving and Christmas, taking on that role of mother, but now that she wasn’t at home, she wished she were there. That things could go back to normal, that Poppy were still with them. If they were at home, Poppy’s mother would be waiting to welcome them. They’d arrive at Poppy’s on Christmas Eve and be enveloped in warm hugs and kisses; there would be stockings hanging with gifts, and little homemade gingerbread cookies paired with warm, milky eggnog.
She looked down at the letter clasped tightly between her fingers, blinking away fresh tears as she reread her words. Grace had said she’d write to Poppy’s mother, but part of her wondered if her sister would ever get around to it, and she didn’t want to keep asking her. Besides, Poppy’s mother had been so supportive of them, always helping with her kind words and advice, sharing recipes and being there for her whenever she’d needed someone to lean on.
Dear Deborah,
The grief we’ve all felt since Poppy’s passing has been immense. When I say that she was a light in all our lives, it’s no exaggeration. Until that day, we were having the time of our lives. I’m sure she wrote to tell you herself, but the weeks we had here in peace were weeks that I’ll never forget. We went horseback riding and on picnics, we walked and explored, and we danced until our feet hurt.
