It seemed fortuitous that theSolacewould arrive in Pearl Harbor on Navy Day. As I stood on the quarterdeck, looking out at the famous harbor, goosebumps ran up and down the back of my arms. A rainbow sliced through the sky and seemed to dive into the bay directly in front of us. All around, the green hills and mountains of Oahu formed a horseshoe, almost like a hug, giving the illusion that nothing bad could happen here.
A small pocket of clouds hovered over the highest mountain peak, raining up in the hills, though sunshine glistened in the harbor. That cloud reminded me of my grief. It was always there, hovering, raining on parts of my life, though sunshine still shimmered around it. I had much to occupy my mind and heart, both here and in 1861. My work, my friends, and my joy in serving could not be diminished by my grief. Losing 2001andPapa in just six weeks was devastating, but I’d learned that grief was a strange thing. It never left me, though it dulled over time.
Thoughts of Gray softened the edges of my pain. He had been forced to return to his work, but he came often to keep mecompany. We read together, ate dinner together, and spoke of our pasts. Saphira acted as a chaperone, and though we still had moments alone, when he said good night to me on the porch, he didn’t tell me he loved me or pressure me to return his affection.
And he did not kiss me.
I sighed, wishing he could be here with me now to see the magnificence of Hawaii.
“They call that Battleship Row, don’t they?” Anna asked as she came up beside me, pointing at the seven ships docked near Ford Island. The battleships were massive, each named after a state. It was a powerful sight, but I also knew what it meant. The position of the ships would make them easy targets for the Japanese on December 7.
“I believe it is,” I told Anna. “Pretty impressive, isn’t it?”
“It’s a show of strength and power to the Japanese,” one of the other nurses said. “Nobody will mess with us.”
There were nods of agreement all around, and I had to close my eyes to their unwavering optimism and confidence.
“President Roosevelt is speaking,” Helen said as she came onto the quarterdeck. “It’s about the German U-boat that torpedoed the USSKearneynear Iceland last week.”
Many hailed the attack as the beginning of war, though FDR was slow to call it as much.
Everyone left the railings to gather around the radio, reminding me of the last day I’d been in 2001, huddled around the television, watching the Twin Towers burn.
A handful of officers arrived on deck, Zechariah among them. They were wearing shorts and short-sleeved shirts, with fedoras on their heads. I’d heard that several people were getting shore leave in celebration of Navy Day and that there was going to be a dance at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, but I hadn’t realized Zechariah was planning to go along with them.
He smiled at me—a strange new occurrence that had started since the evening in the hallway, though I hadn’t seen him often.
As I’d been mourning Papa’s death for the past week, I had kept mostly to myself, knowing I couldn’t explain my grief. Anna allowed me to talk about Papa whenever I needed to. She understood grief better than most people and helped me through my toughest moments. When I was working, I had purposely distanced myself from Zechariah, not knowing how I could possibly explain my mood, or reconcile my feelings for him and Gray.
But now, as we docked in Pearl Harbor, with the sunshine and the waves beckoning and a soft, soothing breeze ruffling the wayward curls around my face, I felt a renewed energy. It was partially due to Gray’s continued care and attention in 1861, and partially due to Anna’s steadfast love in 1941. Along with Mama and Daddy, she and Teddy were the only family I had left.
“Anyone interested in joining us on Waikiki Beach?” one of the medical officers asked.
“Shh,” a nurse responded. “We’re listening to the president.”
The officers joined us as the president wrapped up his speech. When he finished, the radio was turned to a local station playing Hawaiian music, the nurses and officers began to mingle, and Zechariah came to my side.
“Some of us are going to the beach,” he said. “Would you like to join us?”
“Oh, say you will,” Anna said to me with Dr. Church at her side. “It wouldn’t be the same without you, Maggie. Besides, we won’t have another day off until next week.”
“I’ve always wanted to see Waikiki Beach,” I admitted. It did sound like fun—something I sorely needed.
An hour later, we were sitting on the soft sand of Waikiki Beach with waves lapping at our toes. To the left was Diamond Head, the iconic mountain that framed the beach on one end, and behind us were impressive hotels, some of them six to eight stories high. The famous Royal Hawaiian, known for itsimpeccable luxury and pink stucco finish, was one of the finest on the beach. Tiki torches were being set out for the dance later, though it was still hours away, after the sun set.
Zechariah had rented a large grass umbrella and stuck it into the sand, providing a bit of shade. Palm trees swayed in the soothing wind, and beachgoers were walking along the boardwalk, making sandcastles, or swimming in the ocean.
I wore a pink-and-white striped bathing suit, and Zechariah lay on his back beside me, a hand flung over his eyes, wearing a pair of red swimming shorts. It was the first time I’d seen him without a shirt, and I was surprised at the muscles he’d been hiding under his uniform. Though he was thin from celiac disease, he had an incredible physique, and it was hard not to admire him.
The others had rented surf boards and were so far out in the water that I couldn’t hear their conversation, though everyone appeared to be having a good time. Dr. Church had been very attentive to Anna, helping her try to master the skill, though he didn’t look adept at it either. They laughed as they went farther out to try to catch some of the bigger waves.
“Are you mad at me?” Zechariah asked.
He hadn’t said anything for so long, I thought he was asleep. His voice startled me.
“Mad?”
He removed his arm from his eyes and turned over onto his stomach so he could look at me. Sand clung to his back. “You’ve hardly spoken to me since the night in the hall.”
