Island Storm, revised

         The setting sun sent reflections of red and orange skipping over the ocean. Waves pounded on the beach hundreds of feet below the low rock wall at the rear of Trisha’s backyard. The freshness of the salty breeze tickled her nose while it teased her hair. She smoothed her hand over the rough rocks as she enjoyed her favorite part of the day.

         “Miss Trisha?”

         Trisha pivoted enough to face the slim, black woman who seemed to glide over the lawn toward her. “Myna, I’ve asked you to call me just Trisha. Won’t you please?”

         “I’ll try,” Myna answered. “I wanted to tell you Rafe should be here to pick me up any minute now.”

         At the honk of a car horn, Myna looked toward the house. “There’s Rafe now. Oh, yes, what I really came out to tell you - be sure and keep your doors locked. The other women I work for have found food missing.” She paused before adding, “Goodnight, Miss, I mean, Trisha. I’ll see you Thursday.”

         “Goodnight, Myna.” Trisha watched the young woman, who acted as her housekeeper two days a week, walk around the side of the house.

         She turned her attention back to the view on the other side of the wall. Sitting on the wall, she twisted to look toward the cliffs of Pati Point nearly two miles to her right.

         "All I can see are the black spots over there, but I wonder if... No, those are just rumors," she half-laughed. "The war's been over for five years. No Japanese soldiers could still... no way." With a slight shiver, she stood, taking a last look over the ocean as the sun dropped into the waves.

         The sound of the sea against the beach and rocks below soothed her, but she had papers waiting in the house to be graded. “Ah, the life of a teacher,” she mused as she started for the bungalow. “At least tomorrow’s Friday.”

         Early Friday morning, Trisha arrived at the school for children of military personnel. She carried her satchel to the Quonset hut where her English classes met. The school, made up of individual Quonsets rather than a building with rooms, had the restrooms centrally located in a building of their own. Students and staff brought lunches since no cafeteria was provided. Just as Trisha reached the steps leading to the door of her “room,” Joan Hayes, the science teacher, called to her.

         “Hi, Joan,” Trisha greeted the older woman, the wife of a pilot at Anderson Air Force Base. Her eyes, though, stayed glued to the man beside her friend.

         “Trisha, I want you to meet Tad Tyler, our new math teacher.” Joan patted the man on the arm. “He’s also my nephew, come to visit us for a spell, and I talked him into finishing the school year here.”

         “I’m, um, glad to meet you. We’ve needed a teacher. The students have had to... to deal with substitutes since school started.” Extending her hand, Trisha wondered if he were married. He has to be, she thought as she looked into deep, Pacific-blue eyes at least eight inches above her own.

         “Thank you,” he replied as his hand swallowed hers. “Joan told me most of the teachers are spouses of military people. Is your husband Army, Navy, or Air Force?”

         “Uh, well, none of them. I mean, I’m not married,” she stammered. “My, um, my dad is military, and I thought this would be...” She glanced down at the ground a moment before bringing her eyes back to his. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually so mumble-headed. I came to visit my parents and fell in love with the island. This position gives me the chance to stay here.”

         “Great. Would you join me for dinner, then?”

         Noticing Joan’s grin at the same time she realized her hand still remained in Tad's, Trisha pulled her hand away. “Dinner?”

         “Sure, at the officer’s club.” He looked at his aunt. “I’m rushing, aren’t I?’

         “Maybe a little.” Joan smiled at both of them. “You two continue while I get to class. Tad, you know where your hut is. I’ll see you at lunch.”

         Watching the other woman stride away, Trisha swallowed the urge to call her back. Glancing at the blond-headed man gazing at her with a puzzled frown, she gave a slight smile of her own. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a bit... I’m not always this awkward, really.”

         “Just when surprised?”

         With a quick nod, she agreed. “And you surprised me.” In more than one way.

         “Then let’s start again.” Tad took her hand in his. “Hi, I’m Tad Tyler. You know my aunt, Joan Hayes.”

         “I’m glad to meet you, Tad.” She slipped her hand from his. “I understand you’re the new math teacher.”

         “Yes, and I’m rather harmless.” His grin flashed again. “So, would you join me for dinner this evening?”

         “I’d be delighted.” She laughed. “Don’t we sound ridiculous? I’m sorry I’m acting so silly.”

         “Ah, a woman who can laugh at herself.” He threw up one hand as if to protect himself. “No, no, don’t get angry. I should have said, ‘a person who can laugh.’ Most people can’t, you know.”

         “True, perhaps. I do find myself quite funny at times, though. Just when I think I may have grown a bit more mature, I do something entirely childish.”

         “Such as?”

         “Um, let’s leave that topic alone for now, okay?” Glancing at her watch, she gasped. “Look at the time. We have ten minutes before buses start unloading kids. I’ve got to get some things ready.”

         “Guess I’d better get ready, too. I’ll see you at lunch?”

         “Probably, unless I have a student who needs help.”

         “If you do, I’ll stop by after school, okay?”

         “That’s fine.” She smiled again. “I really am glad to meet you.”

         “Believe me, the pleasure is mine.” He waved as he started toward his Quonset.

         Midway through third period, a message was delivered from the administration office. Trisha read the note twice before telling her class, “An extremely fast moving typhoon is coming this way. The buses will be loading in an hour to take everyone home. Until then, you will stay in this hut and help me prepare for the storm. If any of you have younger brothers or sisters, you will be dismissed ten minutes early to get them.” Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Any questions?”

         Since all the students in the class had experienced at least one tropical storm, no one said anything, but started stacking desks and chairs in the middle of the room. All loose supplies and books were stacked in large metal lockers at the end of the room farthest from the door, lockers which were watertight. Some of the taller boys went outside to unhook the shutters from their normal up position and fasten the shutters closed. Trisha had some of the students carry things to her car. Within forty-five minutes, the hut was as secure as possible.

         “Miss Waters,” one of the girls asked, “may I go get my brother and sisters now?”

         “Yes, Abbie, we’re finished. Anyone else need to go?” Several hands raised. “Then go. I’ll see you Monday or whenever we have school again. Take care, people.”

         When all the students had gone, Trisha left the hut, locking the door behind her. At the bottom of the steps, she glanced back, hoping the water wouldn’t rise high enough to reach the porch. With a sigh, she continued to her car, where she found Tad waiting for her.

         “I guess we’ll have to wait on dinner at the club,” he greeted her.

         “Well, the club will be open, because many people take shelter there, but I don’t think I want to be caught away from home.”

         “Where’s home? Don’t you live on base?”

         “No, I have a bungalow in one of the old officer’s additions, not far from Pati Point.”

         “Hey, you mean the MacArthur addition?”

         “Yes, you know where it is?”

         “I just moved into one of the smaller places, on the side away from the cliff.”

         With a chuckle, Trisha admitted, “We’re just about two blocks apart, if you cut across yards. I’m on the cliff.”

         Tad gave a low whistle. “You must have one great view.”

         “Yes, I do.” She tipped her head as she studied him a moment. “Since we live so close together, why don’t you come to my place for dinner tonight?”

         “That I’d like. What time?”

         “About seven?”

         Before Tad could answer, his aunt called, “Tad, are you ready to leave?”

         “Yes, just one second.”
         Trisha looked at Joan and then at Tad. “Did you ride with Joan?”

         “Yep, I don’t have a car here, and I’m not eligible for anything from the motor pool.”

         “Joan, why don’t I give Tad a ride? Then you and the kids can get home and get your place ready.” She turned to the man beside her. “If that’s okay with you.”

         In unison aunt and nephew answered, “Sure.” “If you don’t mind.”

         Several miles later, Tad asked, “I’m curious. How did you manage to have a car? Did your dad have it shipped from the States?”

         “No, I bought it from a family friend who was being shipped out.” She turned off the main road onto the street leading to the housing addition. “Dad did have a car shipped from the mainland, but Mom uses it.”

         “I see.” Tad’s voice didn’t sound as if he “saw.”

         With a chuckle, Trisha explained, “My dad has a car and driver furnished by the base.”

         “Now I do see,” Tad admitted. “Then he must be a high ranking officer, huh?”

         “I, um, I suppose. He’s General Waters.”

         “General...” Tad turned to stare at the young woman beside him. “Uh, yes, I guess he is rather high ranking.”

         “I try not to trade on his position, though. He’s my dad, but I’m really trying to make my own way.” She gave a half-giggle. “Sometimes he goes ahead and forces some special services on me anyway.”

         “Sounds like a regular father. Most want their children to have the best they can provide.”

         “Can we change the subject?”

         “Sure. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? I can’t believe a major storm is expected to be here before morning.”

         “Yes, the day is gorgeous, but, believe me, you’ll know before too many hours just how bad a storm here can be.” She hesitated before asking, “Would you like to see the view from the top of the cliff before getting your place ready for the big blow?”

         “Sure, I’d like that. I don’t have much to get ready, though. The place was all closed up, and the furniture's in the middle of the rooms. The only getting ready I have to do is to put things so that I can sleep there tonight.”

         In the drive beside her house, Trisha stopped the car and turned off the ignition. “You mean your bungalow isn’t really ready to live in, yet? How are you going to manage?”

         “Well, Joan helped me stock the fridge and cabinets, but I told her I’d take care of everything else. I’ll manage.”

          Trisha opened the car door and slipped out. When Tad joined her, she told him, “Come on.” She led the way between an unattached garage and the house.

         “Wow,” Tad breathed as he crossed the yard to the wall. “This is... this is unbelievable. If I were you, I think I’d live out here.”

         “I practically do. See those caves in the cliff face over there?” She pointed toward Pati Point. “The rumors are that Japanese soldiers still hide in them, soldiers that don’t know World War II is over and the Japanese lost.”

         “Do you believe the stories?”

         “No, not really. I can’t imagine anyone there for so long without being seen.”

         Supporting himself by placing his hands on the wall, Tad leaned over as far as he could to gaze at the pounding surf below. “You can’t see the beach, can you?”

         “No, it’s about 500 or 600 feet below us. But, if you follow the path about ten yards that way,” she pointed to her left, “you can get to the beach. It’s a rather rough and winding path, but manageable.”

         “Want to be my guide sometime?”

         “Sure, not today. The waves are way too treacherous with the storm coming in.”

         They stood watching the surging waves roll and thunder toward land. The ocean still reflected the clear blue of the sky, no hint of the coming storm. The wind whistled as it gained strength flying across the ocean.

         “Well, I’d better get you to your bungalow so that I can get my place ready.” Trisha gave a last look at the vista before starting toward the car.

         “I can walk.” Tad grasped her hand. “You don’t need to drive me. Let me help you with your shutters before I go.”

         “You don’t...”

         “I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted, “but I want to. Please?”

         “Well, okay, I could use the help. Come on, then, let’s get to work. Then you’d better check everything at your house. Believe me, you have no idea how destructive a typhoon can be.”

         “I’ve lived through hurricanes in Florida, so I have an idea. Now, let’s get to work.”

         Over an hour later, the couple sat in a darkened kitchen drinking glasses of iced tea. “I guess I could turn on the lights,” Trisha suggested.

         “Don’t, unless you want them on. I’m fine.” Tad took a big gulp. “Umm, this hits the spot. The air has certainly gotten still and hot.”

         “Typical. The clouds should start building before too long.”

         “Well, I’d better go.” Sitting his glass on the table, he stood. “I’ll be back about seven, if you’re sure you still want a dinner guest.”

         Joining him as he walked toward the door, Trisha stated, “I’m sure, if you don’t mind getting a little wet. It could be raining by the time you come back. Do you like fried chicken?”

         “Almost my favorite. Anything I can bring?”

         “No, don’t think so.” After following Tad to the porch, she added, “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you after a while.”

         With a smile, Tad trotted across the front yard, by flower beds overflowing with blooms, and under the palm trees. Trisha watched until he passed behind the house across the street. Then she returned inside.

         Two hours later, Trisha stood at the stove checking the chicken frying in the cast iron skillet. A tap on the backdoor caused her to whirl. Tad, a paper sack in one arm, tapped again. With a smile of welcome, she stepped across the room to open the door.

         “Hi, dinner’s not quite ready, but you’re welcomed to keep me company while it finishes.” After a glance at the dark-clouded sky, she turned back to the food on the stove.

         “Well, what if I make the salad?”

         “Salad! But, it’s almost impossible to get fresh produce.” Trisha watched, her eyes wide, as Tad removed tomatoes, leaf lettuce, green onions, and a couple of carrots from the sack. “Where did you get those?”

         “When I got to my bungalow, my neighbors to the north were trying to pick everything they could from their garden. I helped them, and this is my reward.” He winked at her before starting to wash the produce in the sink. “Tell me where to find a bowl and a paring knife, and I’ll show you how to make a mean salad.”

         After telling him where to find items he needed, Trisha checked the pots and skillet once more. “Before you begin cutting and chopping, want to go see the ocean view now? Believe me, it will be very different from earlier.”

         With a quick peek at the cooking food, Tad asked, “Do we have time?”

         “Sure. Everything on the stove will be fine for a few minutes. With the wind blowing like it is, we won’t want to stay long.”

         As the couple strode across the expanse of the backyard, the wind whipped Trisha’s skirt and plastered Tad’s shirt against a broad chest. At the wall, they couldn’t hear each other above the thundering surf below them. Greenish-gray waves crashed against the cliff bottom, sending spray high enough the couple could see and feel the mist. The piling clouds seemed to mock the waves as they also towered and surged across the sky.

         “Amazing,” Tad mouthed.

         With a nod, Trisha agreed before motioning toward the house. The first drops of rain hit them as they began running toward the protection of the porch and house. Moments later, they finished dinner preparations as rain pinged on the tin roof.

         The two sat with cups of coffee in hand, dinner finished, when someone pounded on the front door. “Who in the world?” Trisha wondered as she rose to answer the thumping, pausing to flip the switch for the livingroom and porch lights.

         When she opened the door, her father stood on the porch in his soaking uniform. “I thought maybe you’d already lost power since the house was dark. Guess not yet.” He entered the livingroom, dripping water on the small rug inside the door. Discovering Tad standing by the door to the kitchen, he froze before demanding, “Who are you?”

         “Dad, everything is okay. This is Tad Tyler, Joan Hayes’ nephew. He’s the new math teacher. Just a second, I’ll get you a towel.” She scurried from the room as Tad crossed the room, offering his hand to her father.

         “I’m glad to meet you, sir.”

         Both men, tall and muscular, stared into each other’s eyes a moment before the general answered, “Same here. Have you known my daughter long?”

         “Long enough to be invited for dinner, Dad.” Trisha tossed a bath towel to her father. “Now, don’t start with cross-examining him.” Giving a shrug, she faced Tad. “He goes into this protective mode anytime he sees a man anywhere near me. I’m sorry.”

         “That’s fine. I’d probably be the same way if I had a daughter.” Tad’s grin reassured her.

         “Oh, you would, would you?” The general’s near-growl brought attention back to him. While he mopped water from his head, he continued to glare at Tad.

         “Yes, sir, I would.” Tad appeared relaxed and at ease as he leaned against the back of a stuffed chair.

         “What’s this sir stuff?”

         “Force of habit, I guess.”

         “You’ve been in the service?”

         “Yes, sir, a marine. Served the last two years of the war.”

         Trina’s father made a sound half like clearing his throat. “Marines aren’t the worst. Too bad you weren’t Air Force, though.”

         “You’re probably right. Maybe I wouldn’t have seen so much...” Tad paused, his eyes bleak.

         “Yes, right. You marines always landed first, saw a lot of action.” The general stared at the towel in his hands. “Trisha, this thing isn’t doing much good. Besides I’ll be going right back out, just as soon as I get you loaded up and ready to go.”

         “Dad, I’m not going anywhere.”

         “Trisha.” The general’s voice brooked no disagreement. “This storm is going to be a rough one. You need to come stay with us until it’s over.”

         “I can stay right here. This house has withstood many typhoons. I’ll be fine.” She gave her father a sassy look. “If you had called, I could have told you the same thing, and you would have stayed dry.”

         “Your mother is worried about you being here by yourself.”

         “My mother, huh? Not you?” Trisha chuckled. “That’s all right, Dad. You don’t have to answer.” She tiptoed to kiss his cheek. “I’ve been through typhoons before.”

         “Maybe, but not by yourself.” He grinned, changing from a stern faced general into a concerned father. “Won’t you please come with me? Your mother would feel better, and, yes, so would I.”

         “Dad, I’ll be fine.” After glancing over to Tad, she looked back at her father. “You can do me a favor, though.”

         “And that would be...”

         “Give Tad a ride home. Then I wouldn’t get wet.”

         “Drive him?” The general returned as he scowled at Tad.

         “Yes, Dad. I wouldn’t expect him to walk in this storm.” She smiled as she batted her lashes. “Please?”

         The general motioned toward the door with his head. “Come on, let’s go.”

         “Trisha, I can’t just leave you to clean up by yourself,” Tad stated as he straightened away from the chair.

          Trisha answered, “Yes, you can, and you will. It’s okay. I can clean up the kitchen by myself. Now, go.”

         “Well, sir, I guess you have a passenger. I’ve just been kicked out.” With a wry grin, Tad turned to his hostess, taking one of her hands. “Thank you for a delicious dinner and a wonderful view. May I give you a call tomorrow?”

         “Sure,” Trisha answered. “Goodnight, and thanks for the salad.” Eying her father, she quirked one eye brow. “Everything okay now?” She reached up to kiss his cheek again. “Goodnight, Dad. I will be fine.”

         After the men left, Trisha quickly cleaned the kitchen. She then took four oil lamps from the storage closet. With two in hand, she carried them to the livingroom, placing them on end tables with matches beside each one. Finally she took a flashlight from a cabinet drawer, sticking it in one pocket of her sundress and matches in the other. She left the kitchen carrying the last two lamps, snapping off the lights in the kitchen and livingroom with her elbow. She left one lamp, with matches, in the guestroom before slipping into her bedroom to set the lamp and flash on a table. After removing her makeup, she changed into pajamas and crawled into bed. The lullaby of the rain on the roof and the ever louder wind sang her to sleep.

         A violent crash brought Trisha out of a deep sleep. Jumping from the bed, she turned the switch of the lamp, but no light appeared. “Electricity’s out, great,” she muttered as she flicked on the flashlight. The roar of the wind shook the walls. She could hear the rushing waterfall of rain.

         Trisha followed the path of the circle of light to the livingroom. She made her way to the kitchen where she found broken glass from the backdoor window on the floor and a post from the porch roof sticking through the opening.

         Wind and rain raced around the wood into the room, drenching her from top to bottom. Hurrying to the storage closet, she found nails. She tucked a hammer under one arm before grabbing a small sheet of the tin kept there for emergencies. Battling the raging wind, she struggled to the broken window. Water already covered the floor and inched its way toward the door to the rest of the house.

         After placing the flashlight on the table, she returned to the opening. Rain streamed down her face as she forced the post back through the window. The wind seemed to steal her breath as she struggled to hold the tin over the opening with one hand while she hammered nails to anchor it to the wood of the door. Finally, the forces of nature no longer swirled inside the house.

         Exhausted, she hobbled through the water and pieces of wood to pick up the light and to leave the kitchen for the relative safety of the bathroom.

         “Well, that’s done,” she mumbled before yawning. “I think I’ll try bed again. Whew, I’m so tired.”

         Trisha dried herself, snatched the flashlight, and made her way to her bedroom and into another pair of pajamas. Minutes later, she snuggled under the sheet as she listened to the roar of the storm beating against her home.

         Maybe I should have gone home with Dad. I’ll never get back to sleep. Finally, though, her eyelids closed.

         A pounding brought her upright in bed. Trisha swung her legs over the side of the bed as she tried to bring her sleep-dazed senses awake. As she brushed her hair back with her hands, she realized that the faint light surrounding her meant morning had arrived The pounding continued, but now she could also hear someone calling her name, someone yelling over the wild tempest.

         “I’m coming! I’m coming!” She forced her arms into a robe and took time to push her feet into slippers before stumbling to the livingroom, where Trisha could hear Tad calling her name outside the door. Fumbling with the lock, she threw the door open to admit the half-drowned man, a rain poncho flopping around him. As the wind pushed him inside, he helped her force the door back closed.

         “What? What are you doing here?” Trisha panted as she leaned against the door. “And what is that?” She pointed to the huge hump on Tad’s back under the poncho.

         “Oh, this.” He wiggled until a duffle bag strap slid down his arm, and the duffle plopped on the floor at his feet. “Part of my roof disappeared, and I didn’t know where else to find help.”

         “Oh, no. At least the house didn’t fall on you. It didn’t, did it?”

         “No, I’m okay, just tossed around and drowned.” Tad removed the poncho. “Where should I put this?”

         “Just drop it beside the door. My kitchen is flooded, or I’d have you take it to the storage closet.” Trisha started toward the hall, adding over her shoulder, “I’ll get you some towels, and some for the floor.” She stopped and faced him. “Wait, do you have some dry clothes in that bag?”

         “Yes.”

         “Then come with me. You can change in the guest room.” Shaking her head, Trisha continued, “I’ll change, too, and then start mopping up in the kitchen while you dry off.”

         “What happened?”

         While she took towels from the linen closet in the hall, Trisha explained the collapse of the back porch. “I don’t know if a tree fell or what, but it looks like the porch is gone. I need to drive some more nails in the tin covering the broken window, too.”

         “I’ll do that as soon as I’ve changed. You dress and start the mopping. I’ll be there in a minute.”

         “If you need some light, there’s a lamp and some matches on the dresser, and there should be a flashlight in the top drawer.” She gave the tall, young man with the rumbled blond hair a quick smile before heading for her own room.

         By the time the kitchen floor no longer sloshed water and kindling, Tad had secured the tin so that the wind couldn’t force any more rain into the house. The wreckage of one kitchen chair and the remains of glassware swept off the cabinets had been removed by the time Trisha dropped into one of the remaining chairs.

         “I’ll be glad when this is over.” She wiped her hair back as she slumped against the chair back. “I hate to think of what the yard looks like. And other houses... your bungalow. What a mess.”

         Tad agreed as he took one of the chairs across the table. “But it’s not over.”

         “No, not over, I... I know.” With a gulp, Trisha discovered tears welling up and sobs forcing themselves from her throat. Pillowing her head on her arms folded on the table, she cried from unexpected fear and relief.

         Not sure what to do, Tad awkwardly reached across the table to pat her arm before muttering, “What the... So what if we don’t know each other.” He walked his chair next to Trisha’s and slid his arm around her shoulders. “Here, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine,” he whispered.

         With a loud sigh and sniff, Trisha raised her head to wipe her tears on an edge of her shirt sleeve. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know... I’m not a... a crying person, usually.”

         “You’ve had a rough night and morning. Why don’t you take a few minutes for yourself. I can take care of myself.” He touched her chin with a fingertip. “Take a nap, whatever.”

         “Thank you. I think I will go put myself back together.” Giving him a watery, faint smile, Trisha escaped.

         Thirty minutes later, Trisha felt ready to face life again. Squaring her shoulders, she tread soundlessly to the kitchen, while delicious odors teased her nose. The table was set, and Tad placed a platter of eggs and bacon in the center beside a lit lamp.

         “Hi. Hungry? I hope you don’t mind me fixing breakfast. I’m starved.” He turned to the cabinet for a saucer of toast.

         “No, I don’t mind at all.” She tried a small smile. “Thanks, let’s eat.”

         Once the first bite reached her mouth, Trisha realized she was famished. “Thanks for cooking. I’m really hungry.”

         “You’re welcome.”

         Both finished their meal in comfortable silence as the storm continued to howl and scream around the house, often shaking the walls and roof in its furry. The rain pounded its own frustration on the tin roof.

         The couple spent the rest of the day working on lesson plans for their classes. In the background, music played from the battery-operated radio Tad had brought in his bag with his clothes and books. Sporadically, an announcer, from the Anderson Air Force Base station, interrupted to update listeners on the progression of the typhoon, now named Miranda.

         After one such announcement, Trisha took a deep breath and released it. “How nice. Why did Miranda have to decide to rest here?”

         “Yeah, knowing that we’ll be under attack for at least another day isn’t a fun idea.” Tad grinned. “But I sure am enjoying the company. One thing I’m learning is living on an island has its own kind of excitement.”

         With a nod of her head, Trisha replied, “In more than one way. You’re just experiencing one type of storm.”

         The two continued working with occasional breaks for conversation and meals through the rest of the false twilight of the day. When they retired to their separate bedrooms for an early bedtime, Trisha found she felt safer with Tad nearby. “Don’t know what he could do against dear Miranda, though,” she whispered as she slid underneath the sheet.

         By the time Miranda fled and the sun shone once more above Guam, Trisha and Tad had become close friends. In the months to come, they spent many long hours together exploring the island. Trisha showed Tad her favorite vista in the south part of Guam, a waterfall surrounded by the boondocks, the native jungle. They swam in the calm waters of Tumon Bay and toasted on the white sands of the beach.

         Christmas Eve arrived, warmed by balmy breezes off the Pacific. Trisha finished wrapping the last of her presents. A small Christmas tree glittered on a table in a corner, gaily wrapped gifts piled high on the floor below.

         With a quick tap on the door, Tad entered. “Hi, how’s my girl?” He crossed, squatted, and kissed her upturned face.

         “Hi, I didn’t expect you. I thought you’d be with Joan and family today.” A bright smile let him know she wasn’t disappointed.

         “I couldn’t stay away. I know we’ll be going to midnight service together, but that’s hours away.” He pressed his lips to hers again. “I needed to do that.”

         “Uh, Tad, what are you doing after the service?” Trisha nibbled on her lower lip.

         Rubbing his thumb over her lip, disrupting the nibbling, he answered, “I’d hoped we could celebrate by ourselves a bit before I went home.”

         The heat of a blush caused Trisha to duck her head. “I’m... I’m glad. I’d rather give you my present without anyone else around.”

         “Just what I was thinking.” He gave her another kiss before standing, drawing her up beside him. “I only have a minute. Since I’m spending tomorrow with you and your family, I promised Joan I’d be with them until time to pick you up tonight.”

         “I’m glad you stopped by,” Trisha murmured as he gathered her close.

         Later, after the Christmas Eve service at the base chapel, Trisha and Tad sat on the wall at the back of her yard; an oil lamp sat not far away, giving muted light. The rumble of the surf provided background music.

         “You want me to give you your gift first, or you want to give me mine?” Trisha asked.

         “Uh, if you don’t mind, I’d like to give you mine first. I’m getting more nervous all the time, and I want... Well, if you don’t mind waiting?”

         “That’s fine.” Trisha set the red and green wrapped package on the ground beside her feet. “What...” she gasped as Tad knelt beside the present to take her hands in his.

         “Trisha, I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” His eyes searched her face as he touched his lips first to the back of one hand, then the other.

         “Marry you?” Trisha whispered. “Oh, my, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

         Rising to sit beside her again, Tad cuddled her in his arms. “When?”

         With a shuddering laugh, she echoed, “When?”

         “Next week?” Tad answered.

         Pulling back, Trisha studied him in the near darkness. “You’re serious.”

          After kissing her deeply, Tad jerked back. “I forgot.” He dug into his pocket and brought out a small silver-wrapped gift and handed it to her. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

          Her hands holding the small box close to her chest, she asked, “Is this what I think it is?”

         “Open it, and tell me.”

          With shaky hands, Trisha loosened the paper to reveal a small, square jewelry box. Opening the box, she looked at the delicate twist of gold surrounding a ruby. “Ohhh,” she sighed. “It’s beautiful.”

          Tad removed the ring from its cushion. “May I?” He took her left hand and slipped the ring onto its new home.

         “It fits perfectly. How?” Trisha whispered, resting her head against his shoulder.

         “I had your mother swipe one of your rings.” Tad laughed quietly. “So, when?”

         “I. . . I would like my family to be at the wedding, and I’m sure you would, too.”

         “Uh-huh, so?”

         “Dad will be transferred back to the States in April... your family is back there.” She paused, thinking. “School will be over the middle of May. Why don’t we plan on the last of June?”

         “Sure seems like a long time, but if that’s what you want.” His kiss stopped all thought.

          The middle of May, Trisha stood at the front of the classroom that had been hers for two years. She looked at the sunlight flooding the windows open to the cooling breezes, over the now-empty desks. Just two more days and she would be leaving this room, this school forever.

         "Ready to go home?" Tad asked from the open door.

         Once in the car, she said, "Oh, I told my kids today that I won't be back next year." She took a deep breath before blowing it out. "I didn't think that would be so hard. I mean, no one ever knows who will be here and who will be gone from year to year."

         "You're really going to miss this place, aren't you?" Tad pulled her across the car seat to wrap her in his arms. "We can always plan on coming here for vacations, you know."

         "I've heard so many people say that before they leave, but they never come back." Trisha leaned against him. "Well, let's go home and enjoy the view while we can."

          Later, the brief twilight arrived as Trisha perched on the wall. Tad had left just moments earlier. She closed her eyes and sniffed the refreshing air, as a sigh started rising from her chest.

          Her peaceful sigh caught in her throat when a hand plastered bony fingers over her mouth. A thin, yet powerful arm yanked her back against a body so gaunt she could feel ribs pressing against her back. Trisha's heart stopped in shock before banging a drum solo so hard that her chest expanded with each beat. With a lunge, she twisted her body off the wall, kicking and flailing arms and body. The restraining hands and arms, like bands, held without easing. The being, whatever it might be, gave off whiffs of musky mold with each abrupt movement of their desperate, tuneless dance.

         Her mind cried, Tad! Tad! I need you. Help me!

          Grasping her harder, the thing, as she called him in her head, pulled and yanked her toward the bungalow. Inside the kitchen, he threw her into a chair, pressing the sharp edge of a knife to her throat. She stared in disbelief at the scarecrow-like creature in a tattered, ragged Japanese uniform glaring at her. When she started to speak, he gave his head a violent shake while covering her mouth with the gag of his skeletal hand; the knife-wielding hand pressed the blade slightly into her skin. Trisha squeezed her eyes closed. He removed the knife.

          Her fear caused trembling to start in her body and to spread to the legs of the hard seat, sending them chattering against the floor. The emaciated form in its faded, nearly colorless remnants pulled drawers and cabinet doors open. Finally he grabbed a length of clothes line. In a few staggering steps, he reached her, captured her hands, and bound them before Trisha could make her body fight.

          Once more, when she would have spoken, he pushed his hand against her mouth and sharply shook his head. When Trisha nodded, he jerked his hand away and returned to his search. He stacked canned vegetables, fruits, and meats on the table. He added coffee, sugar, and flour to the pile before stalking to the refrigerator. Pulling milk, cheese, and a stick of bologna from the shelves, he sat at the table to wolf down the milk, allowing it to dribble down his chin to his chest. Standing, he glared around the room.

          As his observation stopped at her, she shivered, her mouth becoming dry; she felt her heart would jump from her chest. He stood and bent over her. Her eyes closed as she pulled as far away from him as the chair would allow. His finger touched her throat, following the line of the bloody cut. Trisha clenched her jaws. When he grasped her arm and yanked her to her feet, she staggered, nearly falling. With a sudden start, he headed toward the hall, hauling her behind him.

          Stalking down the hall, he opened each door until he reached the bathroom. Without looking in her direction, he pushed Trisha toward the stool, where she sat with a thump. After untying her hands, he opened the medicine cabinet. In moments, he had cleaned the wound with alcohol, the sting bringing tears to her eyes. As she stared at the skull moving near her face, the man’s fingers spread the ointment on her neck. He stepped back, stared at her before fleeing the room, slamming the door behind him. A few seconds later, she heard the back door bang shut.

          Trisha slipped from the bathroom into the hall, her eyes searching in all directions. Reaching the kitchen, she found the tablecloth, and all the food items that had been stacked in the middle of it, gone. Running to the backdoor, she bolted it with trembling hands. Leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window, she took several shuddering sobs. In the darkness of the night, screams, yells, and shots rent the silence, then nothing but the quietness of midnight.

          Her heart beats slowed as she continued to huddle against the door. Just as she found the strength to push herself away, a pounding on the outside caused her to jump back, her hands grabbing her chest. She stared in horror, expecting to see the gaunt features of her abductor before realizing the face in the shadowed glass was Tad’s. She fumbled the door open and fell into his waiting arms. He held her close, his hands smoothing her hair, his lips touching her wherever they could reach. Her fears seeped from her as her trembling ceased. The safety of his arms warmed her chilled mind and soul.

         “It’s all right, sweetheart. I have you. The Military Police got him.” His hand smoothed her back. “Did he hurt you?” His breath sucked in with a ragged whoosh. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” When she shook her head against his shoulder, his body relaxed. "I'm so sorry I left you so early. If I had just been here..."

         Trisha placed her fingers over his mouth. "Don't you dare blame yourself. He didn't hurt me; in fact, he treated the slight cut..."

         Before she could finish, Tad dragged her into the kitchen under the light. "Where? Where did he cut you?" With a growl, he uttered, "I'll kill him. I'll kill him!"

         Frighten by the intensity of the anger of the man who had always been in control, Trisha pulled back a few inches. "Tad! Tad?"

         "I'll never let anything happen to you again. I promise."

         Trisha took Tad's hand. "Let's go sit on the sofa. I think we need to talk."

         "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

         "Oh, honey, I think this... this experience was as hard on you, if not harder, than it was on me." With a wan smile, Trisha searched Tad's eyes. "I know you wouldn't want anything to happen to me, just as I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you. But, Tad, you just made me a promise that I want you to take back."

         A puzzled frown brought his eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

         "You can't promise to keep anything bad from happening to me, because you don't have control over everything." She brushed her lips across his and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just promise always to love me. That's the best promise you can ever make."

         "I do promise, sweetheart. And, that's a promise I will never take back."

          Two days later, the sun shone brightly once more, literally and figuratively. Its healing warmth started to thaw the ice of fear from around her heart. The wind rustled the palm fronds above her head as it whipped locks of her hair into a dance around her head. With a sigh, she dropped to the rock wall, her legs rubbing against its sandpaper surface. Her eyes searched the face of the distant cliff with its pocks of dark cave-openings scattered across its face.

         Tad joined her, his hand taking hers. Licking her lips, she tasted the salt left by tears and wind, causing her tongue to tingle. She sniffed at the end of a sob.

         "Don't cry. I'm going to make you another promise: We will come back." Tad gathered her into his arms.

         Her heart and mind said goodbye to Guam but hello to a better life with the man she loved.