Wearing a sideways grin, Luke asked, “How do you go about doing that?”
“Not sure exactly. But I don't think God hates the Japs or the Germans…or even your stepfather.”
Luke stared at his friend. “God hates evil. The Bible says so. It's clear. It says that God hates our enemies.”
“Maybe so, but just ‘cause evil exists doesn't mean we should go around hating and hating. It can eat a person up. I'll bet Ray Townsend could tell you a lot about that. Seems to me it was hate that set him off.”
“It's not the same. I'm not like him.”
Barry raised an eyebrow and leaned against a bulkhead. “After I got shot up, I was real mad. I hated the Japs. I'll be honest with you. I'm not crazy about them now, but I'm done with the bitterness. And you need to be too.” He met Luke's eyes. “Especially what you feel about your stepfather. Eventually you got to make things right.”
“He's not my stepfather. He's married to my mother, that's all.”
Barry looked Luke in the eyes. “Bitterness has a hold on you, friend. You got to let go of it.”
Luke knew he was right, but he also knew there was no way he could let it go. He hated Ray. He'd always hate the man. “I got to do what I got to do.”
Barry didn't answer right away. Finally he said, “I got a friend back home. I ever tell you about Jennifer?”
“No. But I bet I know what she looks like—tall, blonde, and beautiful,” Luke said, hoping to lighten the conversation.
Barry frowned.
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Jennifer's a good friend. She helped me see how my hating Japs was wrong.”
Luke couldn't believe what he was hearing. Didn't all Americans hate Japs? It was unnatural not to after Pearl Harbor.
“I mean I even hated American Japanese, and when I had the chance, I let them know how I felt. But after I started praying more and reading my Bible, well,” he shrugged, “the hatred just kind of seeped away. I know Germans and Japanese are America's enemies, but this war isn't a personal thing. I don't know any of the enemy, not personally, I mean. I'm not fighting against men. I'm fighting tyranny.”
“That's got nothing to do with how I feel about Ray Townsend, who, by the way, I know personally. He's the guy who killed my father and married my mother. I can't forgive him.” Luke narrowed his eyes. “A person can't forgive just like that. It's not possible.”
“It is.”
Luke started to walk away. “You don't know what you're talking about. Your father wasn't murdered, and you haven't had your home and family stolen. This guy deserves to be hated.”
“Maybe he does. But you don't deserve it. Hating's like a disease. It'll eat you up from the inside out, and you deserve better.”
Luke yanked his cap out of a back pocket and pulled it down over his shaven head. “Ray Townsend deserves to die, and I pray to God he does,” he said, then turned and walked away.
Chapter 16
EXHAUSTED, MATTIE STEPPED THROUGH THE GATES OF THE PORT OF Embarkation. Ten-hour days were draining. At first the job had sounded exciting. Working at the port meant being part of the world as she and other workers filled requests from ships coming and going. Soon reality replaced fantasy.
Mattie stood for hours pulling parts and packing orders. She'd yet to meet anyone from an exotic location; however, she had watched many sailors and soldiers depart. As ships pulled away with military men standing along railings, she always felt sad, wondering what horror they might be sailing into.
To make matters worse, her supervisor was cantankerous and always demanding more production, more perfection. No matter how hard the employees tried to please, it was never enough. Mattie found herself missing her work in Anchorage but quickly corrected her negative outlook. “At least I have a job,” she told herself, “and a place to live, enough to eat, and friends. It's not so bad.”
She walked, imagining herself putting up her feet and drinking a cup of tea. She hoped Meryl hadn't worked over and was preparing dinner. With a fair amount of coaching, Meryl had become a decent cook. Mattie plodded on.
Meryl had changed a great deal since first arriving in Seattle. She was still the gregarious, imposing woman Mattie had met on the steamer, but she was much less spoiled and less demanding. Meryl had found a position as a teller at a nearby bank and actually enjoyed working. She'd also reconciled with her parents, who'd had difficulty accepting their daughter's independence.
Beyond all the palpable changes in Meryl, one mattered the most—she had proven to be a good friend, loyal and caring. She liked having a good time, often dragging Mattie out to the clubs, but Mattie couldn't deny that she enjoyed the fun. Eager sailors and soldiers were always looking for dance partners. Meryl was a flirt, but she defended her teasing as her contribution to the war effort. “Those poor men deserve a little pleasure before being shipped out,” she'd said more than once. “Besides, they know I'm just flirting,” she added with an innocent smile.
Mattie turned the corner onto their block. Shouts carried from an alley running alongside her apartment building. Alarm prickling the hairs on her arms, she stopped and stared into the shadows. People were yelling and shaking their fists at someone. It was Jasmine.
What's going on? Mattie wondered, moving closer. Jasmine stood with her back pressed against a brick wall. Her eyes were wide, filled with fear and hurt…and something else—indignation. All of a sudden she straightened and threw back her shoulders. “Please, let me pass.”
“You're not going anywhere, especially not into this building,” a man Mattie knew as Sid Spencer yelled. His face was redder than usual, and his pudgy cheeks reminded her of partially withered balloons.
“Go back where you came from,” someone shouted.
Jasmine ignored the comment and tried to push through. The crowd closed ranks.
Indignation growing, Mattie made her way to Jasmine's side. She glared at the crowd; some she recognized as neighbors. “What are you doing? Why are you mad at Jasmine?”
“Well…look at her,” Sid said.
Mattie glanced at Jasmine. “And?” she asked, meeting Sid's angry eyes.
“You her friend?”
“Yes.”
“You should choose your associates more wisely.” His gaze slid to Jasmine, then back to Mattie. “Seems you both got the wrong color of skin.” His lips shifted into a cruel smile.
Mattie couldn't believe what she was hearing. All the years of intolerance and bigotry she'd endured flared and boiled through her.
