Navy Christmas

Mama. Juanita Rodriguez was her rock, to this day. Serena had been all but abandoned by her biological father but Juanita had made up for it, as had her abuela and her tias. She missed her mother and made a mental note to call her later. It was time to start building the bridge between them that the pursuit of her biological father’s family had severely tested.

“Mom, look!” Pepé ran into the room with an action-hero figure, his focus entirely on the red plastic toy clutched in his small fingers. “I can fly!”

“Wonderful, Pepé, just watch out for the— No!” She lunged forward to catch him as Pepé’s arms flew out, his toy launching through the air as he landed on the box she had yet to stack.

The plastic bin toppled over and its cover popped off, spilling piles of crushed newsprint onto the tile floor.

“Pepé, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Where’s my hero?” Pepé scrambled to his feet as quickly as he’d fallen, his gaze intent on the stacked boxes.

“Oh, no, you don’t, Joseph Peter Delgado. I’ll find it, but for now, help me put this box back together. Carefully.”

Pepé frowned as he bent down to help Serena. He knew she only invoked his full name when he’d pushed it. He was a sweet little boy, all boy. The dull ache of loss pounded in her rib cage, though it had faded from the life-changing pain that had engulfed her when the uniformed U.S. Marine Corps team had knocked on their door in Texas two years ago.

“Slowly, Pepé.” She showed him how to pick up each wad of paper and check to see if anything delicate was wrapped inside. Most of the paper was yellowed newsprint that had protected Dottie’s precious memories.

Under one larger bunch of paper she saw a red knitted sock peeking out. Serena carefully pulled the paper away to discover a good-size Christmas stocking. It seemed to be hand-knitted, with the name “Henry” embroidered across the top in white and navy blue stars embellishing the foot. The yarn was scratchy and rustic. Serena wondered at the hands that had knit with such rough fiber. She enjoyed knitting but preferred the newer fiber blends like alpaca that felt like silk against her fingers. This stocking was a labor of love.

“Do you think there’s anything in it, Mom?”

“Maybe.” Probably spiders and other creepy-crawlies. She bit her lip as she reached into the Christmas stocking and felt a slight bulge in the toe.

“Let me see, Pepé.” She opened the top and saw a piece of paper that, once she pulled it out of the stocking, revealed itself to be a black-and-white photograph. It was reminiscent of a tintype in the way the sepia colors highlighted the image of a Navy sailor.

Serena flipped over the photo, looking for identification. All that was written on the back was “Charles—the man I wrote you about.” She placed the photo on a box and pulled out another. This one was of a small, happy family, the man in an Army uniform, a beautiful woman and little girl next to him, with “Graduation from Aviation Cadet Flight Training, August 1941” written on the backside.

“Can I look inside the stocking, Mom?”

“Sure, honey. But be careful—if anything bites your fingers, pull your hand out!”

Pepé giggled as only a boy can at the thought of a bug.

He thrust his hand into the stocking and it swallowed up his arm, almost to the elbow. His few remaining baby teeth shone as he smiled in triumph, pulling out his treasure.

“Mom, look!”

Pepé held up what looked like a toy airplane. “Can I have it, Mom?”

“Let me take a look at it first.” She rocked backward from her heels and sat on the floor. The ceramic tiles were hard and cold, but she remained focused on the tiny plane.

“It has some writing on it, and look who’s flying it, honey.” She angled the tiny toy so that Pepé could see Santa Claus waving from the cockpit.

“There’s a wreath on the tail, Mom.”

“And a name.” She couldn’t clearly make out the scrolled name on the side of the aircraft but it looked like “Dottie.” The ornament was light but solid, as if carved from a single piece of wood.

“What kind of plane is it, Mom?”

“I don’t know, honey, but we’ll find out, okay? As soon as we get the rest of this box put back.”

“Let me look to see if anything else is in there, Mom.” He made a point of carefully inspecting the box, removing each crumpled paper and smoothing it on the table. Just like she did.

She smiled as Pepé imitated her mannerisms. “Okay, but I think it’s empty.”

He made a show of reaching back into the stocking. Serena studied the tiny airplane in her hand. Who had carved this for Dottie? When?

“Mom, there’s more paper!”

“It’s to fill out the toe, honey.”

“No, I think...” Pepé pulled out a scrunched-up wad of paper that he unfolded.

Serena grinned. “You were right, Pepé. What is it?”

“It’s an angel, Mom.”

In his little hands was an angel woven from some kind of straw.

“Look, it’s been glued in several places. It’s old and fragile. Let’s take it in the house with us and put it in a safe place.”

“What about the airplane, Mom?”

“We’ll take that with us, too.” She shivered. “It’s getting close to dinnertime. Let’s go back into the house.”

Serena had to wonder if they were about to find out more of Dottie’s history than even Jonas and his family knew.

* * *

“SERENA, I’M NOT angry with you, mi hija. I understand that you had to make your own way. You know, I envy it. I never had that kind of freedom. You have a degree, a career. You can support Pepé as I never could have supported you.” Juanita Rodriguez spoke to her on the phone as Serena prepared dinner.

“I’m glad you’re not mad, Mama.” Serena didn’t believe for one minute that her mother was completely over Serena’s taking Pepé thousands of miles from the family, but she did hear Juanita’s love in the softly spoken words.

“When is Pepé going to Skype with me again?”

Serena laughed. “Mama, you’re going crazy with your tablet!” Serena had given Juanita a wireless tablet for her birthday this past summer, and Juanita’s first request had been to connect regularly with her grandson.

“Did you know you can read on them, too? I read my sexy novels on the apps.”

“Don’t let Red hear you say that!” Red was Serena’s stepfather and she loved him dearly. He’d treated her as his own daughter her entire life.

“I like it when she reads those books!” Red’s voice boomed in the background.

Serena groaned. “Mama, I don’t need to hear this. I’m happy for you, but let’s keep your love life out of it.”

“Can I talk to Abuela?” Pepé stood in front of her.

“There’s a young man here who’d like to speak with you, Mama.”

“Put him on, but first, mi hija, know that I send you a thousand besitos and I love you, sweetie.”

“I love you, too, Mama. And kisses to you, too. Here’s Pepé.”

Serena handed the phone to Pepé and watched as he animatedly described his school day to Juanita, leaving out no tedious detail. Gratitude filled her heart. Their life wasn’t perfect by far, but they had more than most. They had Serena’s loving upbringing and the love that Juanita had taught Serena to share.

* * *

“MOM, IT’S THIS ONE.” Pepé’s enthusiasm lightened Serena’s mood enough that she was able to ignore the handprint he left on the computer screen over the photo of a World War II aircraft.

“The P-40 Warhawk. Yes, I think you’re right, Pepé.” She scrolled through photos of the plane that almost perfectly matched the tiny wooden version of it that sat on the desk next to the computer mouse.

“I like its shark’s teeth.”

“That’s how they painted the ones that were in a special squadron called the Flying Tigers. They’re tigers’ teeth, actually.”

She should let Pepé think the plane was a shark and not a machine designed to take out the enemy with its powerful engine and deadly armament, but she owed it to him to be straightforward about historical fact.

You can’t protect him from reality.

Unfortunately, the reality of war had taken his father from him, too soon.

“When was world war, Mom? Is it the one Dad died in, with the bomb?”

Why couldn’t World War II have been the last war ever?

Sorrow tightened around her throat and she paused to take a deep breath, a practice she’d learned during many similar conversations. Pepé would hardly remember Phil as he grew older, and his grasp of war and how his dad had died was nebulous at best.

“No, honey. Daddy died in a different part of the world, in Afghanistan. It wasn’t a bomb that hurt him, but a bullet.”

“From a sniper.”

“Yes.”

Pepé’s gaze remained on her but she saw his eyes shift to the airplane ornament. While it saddened her that he’d know his father mostly through the memories she shared with him, she was grateful he hadn’t suffered the grief an older child would have.

“What was the world war?”

“There were two world wars.” She picked up the wooden model, willing it to tell her its story.

“This plane was flown in World War II, in the Pacific, from what the internet says.” She held it in her hands, wondering again why Dottie had kept it. She knew virtually nothing of her biological aunt’s younger life.

Had it been from Dottie’s father? Her biological grandfather? Or was it another item Jonas Scott would demand she turn over to him and his siblings? Based on how long the ornament had obviously been packed away, she’d be surprised if Jonas or his brothers knew about it.

At the clinic Jonas had caught her off guard. She’d had to remind herself that he was the same man who had become her nemesis from the moment Dottie’s will was read six months ago.

Serena had been asked to attend the reading of Dottie’s will, much to her dismay. She hadn’t expected anything, especially not a house. Jonas wasn’t at the reading, of course, since he’d been downrange. In a war zone.

He’d emailed her almost immediately, offering to buy the house.

Unlike his siblings, Jonas hadn’t been interested in getting anything from Dottie’s estate, which had been considerable. He’d walked away with enough money to build his own home on Whidbey, and a nice one at that, or at least pay off the mortgage on the small town house his brothers told her he had.

She understood how easy it was for him to see her as nothing more than an opportunist who’d bamboozled Dottie. She’d had the opportunity—Dottie had received physical therapy at the clinic where Serena worked temporarily as a receptionist until she was sure she wanted to go back to practicing law full-time. Serena clenched her teeth at the memory of how damned rude he’d been in his last email to her, and the letter he’d sent registered mail, indicating his intention to contest the will if they couldn’t reach an agreement. In other words, if she didn’t accept his offer for the house.

He hadn’t legally, officially, filed an appeal for the will. She was certain it was only a matter of time. He probably thought that once he was back on island he’d be able to convince her to give him the house.

The Jonas she’d met at the base hospital didn’t resemble the 100-percent jerk she’d imagined him to be, although his comments about working in pediatrics put him in that category. It was easier to think of him as the man who wanted her house.

The Jonas she’d met appeared genuinely apologetic for his harsh words to Dr. Franklin. She’d glimpsed compassion in his eyes as he’d checked Pepé in for his examination.

He knew she was a lawyer, but hadn’t pressed the point. His brother Paul had indicated he’d hire her when she was ready to practice law again. Had he told Jonas?

Serena loved the law and had applied for her Washington State license, which would take another month or so to come through. She still wasn’t certain if she’d seek a job with Paul Scott’s firm, though.

She’d taken the job at the physical-therapy clinic as a distraction when she and Pepé had first moved to Whidbey. She hadn’t been ready to commit to full-time work yet, and she had several months of transitioning her legal license from Texas to Washington, which included exams.

She’d come west to get to know the other half of her biological family, a family she’d never even known about until after Phil’s death. She wanted to keep her focus on that, rather than her law career.

Phil’s death had hit her mother hard. Serena had been surprised and then shocked when Juanita showed up at her door after Phil’s burial, with the announcement that she did indeed know who Serena’s biological father was, and that he, too, had died within the past year. It had been a bitter pill at the time, but now that she’d had the chance to know Dottie and find out about her family, her resentment toward her mother had lessened.

Serena couldn’t let any other people die before she had a chance to get to know them. What had started as a short trip west to meet Dottie and find out about her biological father had turned into an entrée to a new life.

Dottie had died before they’d had a chance to go through Dottie’s entire life history, but she’d recounted a lot about her stepsons, especially Jonas, over dinners and picnics. Even better, the bond Dottie and Pepé shared had been immediate. Dottie said that Pepé looked just like his grandfather, Dottie’s brother, Todd.

Serena’s biological father.

“Hey, Mom, can we go swimming on Thanksgiving?” Pepé stood next to her at the computer desk, dressed in his Frozen pajamas.

“I don’t know, honey. It’s too cold if you ask me.”

“But they heat the pool at Beyond the Stars.” His eyes were big as he questioned her logic. She giggled.

“Yes, but it’s wintertime, sweetie. It’ll probably be too chilly, so don’t get your hopes up. Besides, you’ll be too busy eating the gobble-gobble!” She tickled his tummy and he shrieked with glee, snuggling into her.

At almost seven years old, his snuggle time with her was limited. Yet it was hard to imagine a day when her little boy would reject her hugs.

She gave his head a kiss and patted his back. “Go brush your teeth and I’ll be right in to read with you.”

“Okay, Mom.”

He darted out of the office and she stared at the computer screen.

BTS, or Beyond the Stars, was the special resort for military Gold Star families to find peace and rediscover themselves after the initial shock and grief of losing a loved one to war had passed.

She and Pepé had been to BTS for a week almost two years ago and it had made a world of difference for both of them. She’d only just found Dottie, and Pepé was still struggling with the fact he’d never see his dad again. The staff of counselors and social workers had been so compassionate with Pepé, and Serena had left with her own batteries recharged. It was where she and Pepé had found the courage to live life on life’s terms.

They were going back for Thanksgiving at the invitation of the owner and director, Val Di Paola, and her husband, Lucas. Located on San Juan Island in the middle of Puget Sound, the resort was magical in its setting.

What it had done for her and Pepé was nothing short of a miracle. The staff had become good friends, almost like an extended family, to them.

Thanksgiving at BTS was going to be wonderful.

CHAPTER FOUR

Moffett Field, California August 1941

“HENRY!”

Sarah yelled as loudly as she could, knowing that her voice could never carry over the marching band and cheer of the crowd as the aviation graduates marched in front of them to the center of the field.

“Momma, where’s Daddy?” Dottie’s face was screwed up in a scowl. It was hard for her to tell one man from another when they all had crew cuts and wore the same uniform.

Sarah took her little white-gloved hand.

“Here, honey, I’ll help you point to him. He’s in the first row, third over—the tall one.”

“I see him, Momma!” Dottie giggled, and Sarah’s heart swelled at how cute she looked with her blond curls and the red, white and blue beret she’d knitted for her. Shirley Temple didn’t have anything on almost-six-year-old Dottie Forsyth.

“I’m sure you do, sweetie.” Sarah didn’t think Dottie could actually see her father but she wasn’t going to question her now. They hadn’t seen him since he’d left in January, and the day was going to be special; Sarah knew it in her gut.

Her mind drifted as the man in charge of the ceremony talked about courage and honor and duty, and handed out diplomas to each aviator. Henry had told her she’d be the one to pin his wings on, and she couldn’t wait. She also expected that he was going to announce that she and Dottie could travel with him. Move with him and live on an Army post wherever he got sent. He hadn’t said it but she’d read in the paper at the library that a pilot’s family could move as far as here in California or even Hawaii.

Sarah smiled. Henry thought she’d never be willing to leave Whidbey Island again, not after his brief time in Texas in the army, and then his flight training here in California. But she’d realized during their separation that being anywhere with Henry, together as a family, was more important than being in the house she’d grown up in. The house would wait for them. They wouldn’t be gone forever. Henry had missed flying and surely it couldn’t take very long to get it out of his system. Not considering how often the Army had him up in the air.

“Second Lieutenant Henry Forsyth.”

“That’s your daddy!” she whispered in Dottie’s ear while squeezing her hand.

She watched him walk smartly across the small platform and salute the commanding officer before he reached out to receive his diploma. Pride roared in her ears and she couldn’t keep the widest grin of all time off her face.

“Just look at your daddy, Dottie girl.”

“Go, Daddy!” Dottie whisper-shouted the words, always mindful of her manners. Except when she wasn’t, like the day she’d snuck out of the house and played in the puddles left by a storm last week. It’d taken three tubs of water for Sarah to get the dirt out of Dottie’s mud-soaked skirts.

Henry turned toward the audience and Sarah waved. It felt as though her heart would pound right out of her ribs, and it wasn’t because of her tight dress. As soon as he saw them he waved back, his teeth white in the afternoon sun. The day couldn’t be more beautiful.

It passed in a blur: Sarah and Dottie standing next to Henry, Sarah pinning his wings to his uniform, the lovely reception afterward where she met other wives who’d come to see their husbands get their wings, the walk back to the quarters where they had a small room together as a family. Henry didn’t have to stay in the barracks any longer—he was under orders to go to his next duty station.

Which was why, after they’d ensured that Dottie was sound asleep and they made tender, hello-again love, Sarah was puzzled to hear Henry announce that he was resigning from the Army.

“I don’t understand. How can you? You owe them time.”

“I can and I have. The president is making sure the right pilots sign up for this special mission I’ll be part of. I’m working for a civilian, a contractor, who has a flying mission overseas that’ll pay way more than the Army Air Corps, and I’ll get experience I’d never get Stateside. I can always go back to the Army Air Corps after this.”

“Can we still move overseas with you? I thought American civilians weren’t going to Europe anymore, not with the war and all.”

“No, honey, you and Dottie can’t come with me. You knew that, Sarah. I’m headed for the Pacific.”

She bit her bottom lip and couldn’t keep the tears from spilling.

“But you said...you said it would all be okay once we saw each other again, Henry. You said you might be a career man and they’d send us all together to the same places.”

He raised her chin and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Isn’t it good, this time together?” He kissed her.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A year at the most. I ship out to Burma within a week or two, and then I’ll get so many flight hours back-to-back I won’t have to stay that long.”

Doubt weighed down her joy at being with him again.

“You can’t possibly know how long it’ll be, Henry. These past eight months without you have been awful.”

“I know, Sarah, and I can’t thank you enough for being such a wonderful wife, waiting for me, and for being such a good mother to Dottie. She’s so beautiful, Sarah. I hope we get to have more babies together.”

“I do, too.”

“We will, honey, as soon as I get back. Listen, I’m going to be making a lot of money. I want you to save it up for us, and when we get back we can build an addition to the farmhouse. It’ll be the biggest house on Whidbey! And use it for your parents, too, Sarah. They’ve worked hard to be able to give us the place. I want to thank them somehow.”

“Thank them by coming back as soon as you can and making their daughter happy.”

“I will, I promise.”

As they made love, Henry’s hands caressed her as if she were the most precious woman in the world. As if he couldn’t get enough of her. She had no doubt that she was the woman of his dreams. That he loved her beyond measure.

But it wasn’t enough to keep him home.

Mingaladon, Burma

January 1942

THE AIR SIREN woke Henry from a dead sleep. He jumped out of his rack and shoved his socks on before jamming his feet into his flight boots.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Cappy Smith sang out with glee. Cappy was his new best friend since they’d gone through Army Air Corps training together and both left the Army to join Chennault’s Flying Tigers. They all lived for the missions. Mingaladon, Burma, was hot, muggy and tens of thousands of miles from home. Not what any of them had signed on for. They’d volunteered to fight the enemy.

Since last month their enemy in the Pacific was clear: the Japanese.

It still stung that they’d been hit on U.S. territory, in Pearl Harbor.

“Wake up, Henry!”

“I’m up, I’m up!” He zipped up his flight suit on the run. They all slept in their suits when they were on ready alert, prepared to go in an instant. Gravel and jungle compost crunched under his feet as he pounded toward the runway.

Fifteen pilots crowded into the ready room, a makeshift shack near the end of the runway.

They all stopped in shock as they recognized their briefing officer.

General Claire Lee Chennault. Founder of the American Volunteer Group—AVG—that made up the entirety of the Flying Tigers. General Chennault was famous for showing up, unannounced, for briefings just like this one.

The mission had to be crucial.

“You’re launching in five minutes, gentlemen. The Japanese are on their way to take out Rangoon.” Rangoon was a port city crucial to the Allied war effort. Henry and his colleagues were silent. While no mission was ever the same as the last, their past several had been to protect Rangoon. Three of their P-40 Warhawks hadn’t come back in the last mission he’d flown, thanks to the murderous pilots who flew highly maneuverable Ki-43s against them. It was overwhelming to think about the sheer numbers of war machines, both on the water and in the air, that the Japanese had. But one good hit could take an aircraft out. That was Henry’s job and what he had to stay focused on.

He wanted to get in, take out as many of the enemy as possible and get back to base before they even knew what hit them.

The general finished his briefing and within twenty minutes Henry was clawing for altitude in his P-40 Warhawk on Cappy’s wing on the way to Rangoon. It was pitch-dark, but by the time they got there, the morning sun would be their guide to the bombers they’d take down.

Henry didn’t like the transit part of any mission. It allowed too much time to think, even during the short twenty-to thirty-minute run to Rangoon.