Island Of Sweet Pies And Soldiers: A powerful story of loss and love

They were practically nose to nose and Violet could see the salt from the dried tears on Setsuko’s cheeks. “That was years ago. And what would it have to do with Takeo?”

Everyone knew about the Ni’ihau incident. In 1941, a Japanese pilot had crashed on the small island after raiding Pearl Harbor. Initially, the Hawaiian people of the island didn’t even know about the bombing, but when they got wind of the attack, they apprehended him. The pilot sought aid from three local Japanese, who assisted him in breaking loose, finding weapons and taking hostages. In the mind of the Americans, it proved that anyone of Japanese descent could not be trusted.

“Nothing at all, but they already have their minds made up,” Setsuko said.

Violet gripped her wrists. “We won’t let it happen.”

Chapter Eleven (#ulink_5bca7740-4d68-5971-9ce7-f8be731dc2b2)

Ella

All of us kids were scared when the armed men showed up, but Sensei told us not to worry when he went outside to talk to them. I wondered if I was the cause of this. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be there and they had come for me. But that wasn’t it. Over and over, I could hear Sensei saying, “I’m an American, you have to believe.” It turned out the men wanted to search for something in our schoolhouse.

Sensei came back in and told us that school would be closed until further notice, and that we should head straight home. Sumiko and Ethyl in front of me started crying. On the way out, the men gave me funny looks. Everything went orderly, but I got a taste of despair coming off of Sensei, like he wanted to fold himself into an origami crane and fly away. A single tear ran down his cheek when I turned to wave at him. All I could do was give him my biggest smile, one that I rarely use.

I hated the thought of Mama alone in the near darkness. There were a lot of bad people around. Or good people, depending on who you asked. One time, just after the army moved into town, we were walking up to see Papa, who was working late at school. At that point we were used to being able to do whatever we wanted, and being the principal’s family gave us what Mama called clout. It was just after sundown and I was telling Mama about the book Lassie Come-Home that Mrs. Hicks read us, and how they made it into a movie. Neither of us paid any attention to a man giving commands. Mama had her big blue eyes turned on me as though I was the only person alive—until we heard, “Stop or I’ll shoot!” We both turned into statues and Mama yelled who we were. He said he didn’t care and curfew was curfew. That was when we knew things had really changed.

It was dark by the time Mama came home. Her eyes were swollen and I ran up to hug her when she came into the kitchen.

She wiped her nose with a dish towel. “They took Takeo away.”

“Oh heavens, no!” Jean said.

I could see Mama was on fire. “You know what gets me? This whole hysteria. I understand that we need to protect ourselves, but there’s a line of human decency that has been crossed.”

Jean set down her glass of milk. “That may be true, but a lot of these people from the mainland don’t know our Japanese like we do. All they know is that we are at war and our lives are at stake.”

Well, that got my mama going, and her nostrils flared like they did when she was fuming. “Alma Jean, are you siding with them?”

“I’m not siding with anyone. It’s a complicated situation, and I can see both sides. You know I love the Hamasus.”

One thing about Mama mad is that she takes action. “We need to talk to everyone we know. I’m going to see if Irene can get me on the line with the governor tomorrow. Takeo is the most harmless man around.”

Jean nodded and I hugged Mama harder. I didn’t want her to get herself in a situation like my papa did. She looked down at me like she just noticed I was there. Her hands rubbed my scalp. “I’m sorry, Ella. That you had to be there for that.”

“Where are they taking him?” I said.

“To a camp near the volcano.”

If they called it a camp, it must not be so bad, and I wondered what all the fuss was about. “Will we get to go, too?”

Mama and Jean looked at each other like they knew something that I didn’t.

“No, but maybe we can visit,” Mama said.

When we sat down to eat, Jean asked God for an extra helping of love for Takeo and his family. To my surprise, she also asked for Brownie to grow a new set of shiny feathers. She had a special way with prayers, which made me wonder if I should ask her to pray for me.

Brownie had managed to live, but it would be a long time before she looked like a proper chicken. The top hen in the yard attacked her when we set her down outside one sunny morning, and I had to run screaming at them with a shovel to break it up. Pecking order is something real, not just a made-up phrase. So we still keep them apart and Brownie sleeps in a cage on our lanai.

I knew I should feel sorry for Takeo and his family, but I was caught up thinking about myself. And how I wouldn’t be able to go back to his little schoolhouse. “Can we do Japanese school here?” I asked.

Mama and Jean had been talking about the war and they got quiet. “No, we can’t. But that doesn’t mean that Umi and Hiro can’t come over and practice origami. And I’m sure Setsuko would be happy to help you keep your tree alive since she won’t be helping out at the school anymore.”

It wouldn’t be the same as in the old wooden house. I liked how our voices bounced off of the floor and the walls, and I wanted to make an oshie out of old kimono material. I had only seen ones of people, but I planned on making a chicken. More than anything, I knew I was safe there.

Suddenly, it looked like a light went on in Mama’s head and she said, “Say, I have an idea!”

Chapter Twelve (#ulink_3e6dbbd1-0950-5533-8905-4e3c07220236)

Violet

The week was shaping up to be one of the worst in recent memory. Sleeps were fretful, Ella wet her pants in class for no apparent reason and the trade winds had taken a vacation. By the end of each school day, Violet’s dress was stuck to her back and her hair looked more like feathers. Setsuko had no option but to keep teaching, and spent her lunch breaks crying, as though she’d spent her whole life saving up the tears, and now they wouldn’t turn off.