Suspended

By Linda Lani Jacobsen

Some days are more memorable than others. As pregnant Molly enjoys an early morning walk on an Oahu beach, she suddenly sees planes flying overhead. Her heart seems to stop as she notices the markings on the planes. Her muscles seem to desert her, leaving her motionless. Even her unborn baby makes no move. What has started as a beautiful day has now turned into the beginning of an unimagined nightmare. It is December 7, 1941.
Fear overcomes Molly as she runs to her cottage, screaming for help. As the other residents in the small homes are awakened by the planes and her cries, everyone is transfixed as they look upward. Confusion soon turns to horror as the planes reach Kaneohe Naval Air Base, and the sound of explosions and gunfire fill the air. While some go to the base to help, Molly and Ed, along with others, evacuate their homes and head for the mountains with no idea of what to expect. Everything is about to change forever.

Based on extensive research, Suspended narrates the impact on the civilian residents living in Hawaii after the bombing, including martial law restrictions, friendships, and, for some, adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469779478

Linda Lani Jacobsen

Linda Lani Jacobsen was born in Honolulu, Hawaii, and lived there until she was ten. She is currently writing a collection of short stories and looks forward to her next trip to Hawaii. Linda resides in Tucson, Arizona, with her dog, Eddie.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Beginning—1941

The sun was starting to rise, and the clouds opened a bit at a time, allowing the sun to seemingly travel, its rays spreading gently across the warm water, beginning with the deep water colored a dark sapphire blue. Then it traveled toward the shore, lighting up the water’s color gradients as it moved: dark green indicating a shallower area, and then light green and, finally, clear as the sun reached the shore. The rays seemed to rest briefly at the shoreline before heading up the white sandy beach toward the cottages at the water’s edge.

As the sun’s rays illuminated the informal gardens around the small simple homes, an observer would have noticed the carpet of Saint Augustine grass spreading in and among the houses. Tough and able to withstand the sun, wind, sand, and sea spray, the grass formed a three-inch mat that cushioned the footfalls of passing humans and captured the still-fragrant blossoms of pale pink and yellow, which had drifted down from the plumeria trees. The plumerias were not alone, however, for in the years the bungalows had stood by the water, those living there had haphazardly added to the gardens with a banana tree here and a papaya tree there. The entire property was hugged by a tall hedge of oleander with dark red flowers, which bloomed most of the year.

The sun touched the front porches of the six homes, which were strung in a single file overlooking the sea, highlighted the ginger and hibiscus bushes at the cottages’ base and traveled up the sides of the perpendicular wooden boards, which served as the siding. Topped by metal corrugated roofs, the cottages presided over the gardens, which, because of the temperate climate and rain, flourished without any helping human hand. Slightly weather-beaten with occasional chipped paint, the small homes were comfortable in their setting.

This comfort suggested an informality which encouraged the draping of towels over porch railings. The chairs on the porches, slightly scruffy due to their years of duty, were empty this Sunday morning. Here and there, overfilled ashtrays rested after a long night of use. On some porches empty beer bottles played sentry duty since they were lined up, seeming to watch the early morning surf. But the surfboards were still, quiet, leaning against the sides or fronts of some of the homes. There had been a party the night before in celebration of the impending birth of Ed and Molly’s baby, who was due today. It had been a good party, lasting well into the night, and no one was stirring on the porches or in the gardens or on the beach.

That did not matter to the rising sun, however, for it continued past the slumbering cottages and across the two-lane country road. Since it was Sunday morning, there were only occasional cars passing quietly, and they were usually occupied by someone or a family headed to an early church service or perhaps a family reunion across the island.

After crossing the road, the sun lit up the sugarcane fields, where tall canes with leaves shaped like spears covered the stalks. Although the leaves were a soft green color and seemed to invite a touch, they were, in reality, harsh and sharp, which was why the field hands harvesting the cane wore protective gloves and clothing.

The sun’s rays had now arrived at the foot of the mountain, where the jungle welcomed them and rewarded anyone venturing near with views of thick vegetation. Plants with varying hues and varieties of color flourished at the mountain’s base. Birds and small animal life were abundant in this almost-hidden forest of tropical species. The jungle was not quiet, but alive with the sounds of its inhabitants, each on his or her way with pressing errands for the day.

The mountain was the highest point on the island. On this side, the windward side, the jungle, which flourished at its base, did not continue up the ridges, which appeared as fingers seeming to grip the soil at the mountain’s base as though to anchor the mountain and keep it from blowing away. Although the ridge tops were almost devoid of vegetation, the subsequent ravines between the ridges nurtured various shrubs and small trees. As the sun’s rays glided up the mountain, more vegetation appeared until the jungle was restored at the mountain’s top.

Called the Pali, the mountain oversaw the entire island. On this—the windward—side, the countryside consisted of large plantations, small farms, and little village settlements with neighborhood grocery stores. Kaneohe Naval Air Station, a limited air base with thirty-six PBY Catalina flying boats, was also located on the windward side of the island. Although Kaneohe could become busy with aircraft moving on and off the runways, the entire windward side of the island was primarily a quiet farming area.

The small homes, located between Waialua Sugar Plantation three miles north and Kaneohe two and one-half miles south, were inhabited by several young married couples, bachelor officers from Kaneohe, and, occasionally, an employee from Waialua. The rent was cheap because it was in the country; the cottages, while comfortable, were old; and the largest city, Honolulu, was located on the other side of the island.

As the sun continued its journey, Molly awoke. She had not been sleeping well. The baby she was carrying seemed immense. In fact, she had started calling the baby Marmaduke after the comic strip’s Great Dane character. Marmaduke had been quite active in the last month of Molly’s pregnancy, and she knew that further sleep was impossible. Getting up, she observed Ed stretched out asleep, snoring. Lucky Ed! she muttered.

Changing into a muumuu, she headed out to the beach. She loved the quiet mornings. No one was up, and so she had a chance to wander slowly down to the water.

She missed bodysurfing immensely, but it had been impossible to do that in the past few months. As she moved down to the beach, she carefully skied down the two-foot drop from the grass to the sand. The sand, stacked up from the numerous tides and wind, made a slight slope, uniting the grass of the garden with the beach. She loved to just shift her weight to her heels and slide down, although carrying Marmaduke had forced her to be very careful with this activity.

As she reached the shoreline, the water washed over her feet and ankles. The surf was gentle and wave formation low, as though it too was just getting started on the day and did not want to rush into any powerful activity yet. She wondered if the baby would be born today. It was her first, and she was worried about giving birth, despite the fact she was told she would receive medication that would relieve most of the pain. Her mother lived in California and was expected to come over as soon as the baby was born, but Molly wished her mother was with her already. Although receiving reassurances from friends and family members, giving birth and raising a child was all kind of scary right now. After all, what kind of a mother was she going to be? She had never even had babysitting jobs in high school.

She thought about how her life had changed so much in the past three years after finishing college. Seeking adventure, she had applied for a job as the athletic director of a sugarcane plantation in Hawaii. She couldn’t remember who was the most surprised—her family or herself—when the news came that she had the job at the Waialua Sugarcane Plantation on the island of Oahu.

It was on the plantation that she met Ed. It was after she had just finished unpacking in the house she had been assigned and decided to take a walk around part of the property, which went on for miles and had its own railroad line.

Ed was riding by on a horse. Tall in the saddle, he looked like the former college athlete he was. He stopped as soon as he saw her and dismounted.

Hi, he said, smiling widely with a look of interest on his face. I’m Ed, one of the overseers, also called a luna, on the plantation. You must be Molly. Welcome.

Thanks. I’ve just arrived, she answered with a returning smile.

Well, I’ve got to get back to the fields right now. But if you’re free later this afternoon, be happy to show you around. This place can be a bit intimidating to newcomers.

Molly paused before answering to take a brief look at him. Hmmm. No wedding ring, taller than she was, obviously an outdoor, athletic type, and appeared to be four to five years older than she was.

Okay. I’ll be in the athletic center or my place, which is just up the road, number 10. See you later.

Great! Ed mounted his horse and started moving away. He glanced back and, with a smile, waved.

"Ah, thought Molly, so he is interested in me."

And that, she said to herself, was the meeting that changed both their lives. Now they were married, and she was expecting their first child. Ed had changed jobs and was the director of the Industrial Relations Department for the Mutual Telephone Company, which was located in Honolulu. The job paid more, which will be helpful with the baby coming, and the opportunity for advancement was more clearly delineated. The commute was not always easy, but living on the beach was worth it, she thought. Honolulu was too expensive for them to live on the beach, so they did not mind the relative isolation on the island’s windward side.

Molly continued slowly down the beach. The feel of the sand between her toes and the warmth of the water soothed her. It was going to be a beautiful day.

She giggled as she remembered sitting on the porch with Ed before the party started last night. They were teasing that if the baby wasn’t born soon, none of the chairs would hold her. And they remembered their first date.

Ed had driven from his home to her house in his 1939 Ford Business Coupe. Molly could tell he was immensely proud of it by the way he flicked off a speck of dust as he opened the car door for her. The car was black with running boards and a back that swooped down to the bumper, making it look like it was always in motion. It could only carry the driver and one passenger. No extraneous friends, aunts, uncles, or children allowed on date night, she thought as she noticed the car was immaculate inside and outside. All evidence of the red dirt from the fields were gone.

Ed was dressed in an aloha shirt with a rather subdued print, a sports jacket, and freshly ironed dress pants. His blond hair was carefully combed with a stylish wave in the front, and his blue eyes were alight with anticipation. Molly remembered she wore high-heeled sandals and a summer dress, which brought out the highlights of her brown hair. She answered the door as soon as Ed knocked.

The warm evening was fragrant with the flowering landscape. They headed to Honolulu and the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. There was a dance there that night. They were young, still able to dance most the night away and feel great the next day. It was perfect. Ed had picked a gardenia for her, which she put in her hair. The car purred across the miles from the windward side of the island into the bright lights of Honolulu on the island’s lee side.

Soon they were at the entrance to the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. A driveway swooped up to the front door between an allee of palm trees softly waving welcome as discreet lighting on the grounds added magic to the tropical night. A parking attendant took the car off for safekeeping.

Looking at the hotel, she felt it was aptly nicknamed The Pink Palace, for the entire building was pink, a color she usually thought of as something little girls wore. To her surprise, the hotel lobby was definitely not done to appeal to little girls, but to a sophisticated clientele of wealthy people arriving by ship who wanted to be surrounded by luxury.

Off the lobby was a dining area with a dance floor. Since it was a Friday night, the area was crowded with people of all ages. The band was in full swing, and the dance floor was crowded with couples. Ed found some friends across the room, and they joined them at their table. The two other couples at the table were Beth and her boyfriend, Ted, and Florence and her husband, Floyd.

After introducing Molly to his friends, Ed ordered drinks. The band started playing ’Tain’t What You Do (It’s the Way That You Do It). As the music engulfed the crowd, the couples got up to dance. Ed turned out to be a good dancer, and with her coordination, Molly found it easy to follow his lead. As the final notes faded, the couples returned to their table.

Molly, Ed tells me you’re the new athletic director at Waialua, Beth said.

Yes, I’m still finding my way around the place, putting new athletic programs in place, and getting to know the families on the plantation.

Well, they’re lucky to have you on staff. Sorry I haven’t been down to the gym to introduce myself. I’m the visiting nurse at Waialua. I usually work there four days a week and with the outside community one day a week. You’ll find most of the laborers’ families on the plantation are wonderful, particularly the children. The staff doctor and I do considerable medical education within the Waialua community in addition to medically treating the workers, their families, and the plantation staff. As you probably know, the workers come from China, Japan, and the Philippines, along with people from Europe and parts of the South Pacific.

I noticed that, and they have talked about their homelands. They’re dedicated and very competitive on the volleyball and basketball courts. I’ve been really busy trying to get to know the job, so I probably wouldn’t have been able to spend much time chatting with you. This is much more fun as an introduction. But, stop by any time. Always good to see a friendly face.

Yes, this is much better. As for introductions, this is my boyfriend, Ted, who is a navy pilot based at Kaneohe Naval Air Base. The base is about three miles down the road from us, said Beth, looking at her boyfriend.

Oh, what are you flying?

A PBY Catalina, known as a flying boat. They are large and lumbering, replied Ted. We specialize in reliability, and we can fly great distances. We are also used for water rescues, which is why we have the nickname flying boat.

Well, since we are introducing ourselves, said Florence, I’m a photographer of families, historical events, and anything else that interests me. It’s the family portraits, however, that pay the bills for my studio. The rest is whatever captures my interest but does not usually pay well.

Floyd interrupted, "Florence is too modest. Her family photography is known as the best in the islands, and the Honolulu Star News has published several of her ‘interest’ photos."

Florence looked at him indulgently. It’s really nice to have a cheerleader!

Floyd smiled and winked at Molly but did not introduce himself.

And what do you do, Floyd?

I’m a special agent with the FBI.

And what does that mean?

I track down the bad guys. Ah, listen, the band is starting up again. Anyone want to dance?

And so the group danced and talked and nibbled on peanuts while the drinks arrived as frequent occurrences. Soon it was time to leave, and the group broke up to go home.

Molly remembered that she and Ed had wandered through the hotel to look at the beach and down the coast as it curved toward