In the Day when Heaven was Falling, Part 2

The atmosphere in the HPD squadroom was like a morgue. Somebody told Duke the Governor cried when he heard what happened to Deford's boys. Duke flicked on the radio long enough to hear the announcer say: "After Pearl Harbor, this has been the darkest day in Honolulu's history. Hawaii Five-O, the state's elite police unit, is pau."

Duke stayed until his shift ended at six o'clock, then drove home to his modest house near Waikiki. Somehow, he thought, Billie would be able to make sense of all this, if anyone could. He wished he had been with her when she heard the news about JuJu, but knew she would understand. There wasn't much about him Billie didn't.

Duke pulled into the driveway and was disturbed to see that his wife's station wagon wasn't in the garage. He hurried into the house and saw his sixteen year-old son, Eddie, standing in the kitchen clutching a pair of tongs. Eddie had a pan on the stove, and Duke saw that he was attempting to boil some hot dogs.

"Where's Mom?" Duke asked.

"She went over to Mrs. Hada's house," Eddie said, wiping the sweat from his brow. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he looked relieved to see Duke. "I'm just trying to make dinner for everybody."

Duke nodded; he should have known that Billie would think of Mrs. Hada's grief before her own. "Did you call Hannah at school?" he asked. His elder daughter Hannah had just started at UCLA that fall. Of all his kids, she and Eddie were the closest to JuJu.

"Yeah, I tried to," Eddie said. "Her roommate said she was at the library. Remember that big test she was complaining about? It's tomorrow. So I didn't know if I should even tell her or not."

Duke studied his son as he mulled it over. Eddie was a big, strapping kid, but in personality he was so like his mother -- gentle, considerate and kind. He wondered how he would feel if Eddie were killed. Considering the pain he was feeling now, Duke hoped God would spare him the agony of ever finding out.

"Best not tell her until after the test," he finally said. "Eddie, I'm going over to Mrs. Hada's and get Mom."

Eddie looked crestfallen. "You ... you're not staying for dinner?" he asked. The tongs dangled limply from his fingers. His lower lip started to tremble.

Duke realized suddenly what his son was feeling. When you're sixteen, you take immortality for granted. JuJu's death had shattered Eddie's illusions. He was a scared kid, grieved and lonely, with a house full of younger siblings to take care of and some shriveled hot dogs boiling on the stove.

Duke grabbed hold of Eddie and hugged him, hard. He rubbed Eddie's back while his son hung on to him, sobbing incoherently. "It's all right, son," Duke kept repeating. "It's all right. It's all right."

Finally, Eddie recovered and pulled away. Duke told him to go round up his brother and sister. Then he stuck the hot dogs into buns, poured some potato chips on the plates, and served. The kids lapped it up as if it were filet mignon -- then faithfully put their own dishes in the dishwasher. Duke was grateful. It was all the sooner that he could slip out and go find his wife.

***

Predictably, Duke found Billie's station wagon parked in the Hadas' driveway. He pulled in behind her, threw the squad car into park, and turned off the ignition. Then he just sat there. He knew he should go inside and express his sympathies to Myoshi, but he wasn't sure he could face her just now.

Myoshi Hada was a lot like her husband -- generous and good-hearted, but carrying a great deal of bitterness about the unfairness of the world. Duke was sure Ted's death had done nothing to reduce her suspicions that fate was conspiring against her family. Not that he blamed her -- it was difficult to accept that the Goulet brothers had managed to do what Hitler's legions couldn't: kill a man who exemplified the "Go for Broke" spirit of the unit he'd served.

He prayed that Myoshi and the kids would be able to withstand the blow. A policeman's widow's pension wasn't much -- and Ted had five kids. Duke forced himself to get out of the car, but stood wavering in the driveway, unable to make himself go in. He just wanted to see Billie.

Finally, the screen door opened and Billie and Myoshi came out. Duke could hear Billie's warm voice, offering aid, and Myoshi's insistent refusal. But Billie didn't give up. She kept on, speaking soft words of comfort -- as if words could heal a wound like this!

Duke watched while Ted Hada's widow reluctantly allowed herself to be hugged. Then Myoshi spotted him and spun Billie around, saying: "You see? There's your husband. You go to him." She used the distraction to slip back inside the screen door, slamming it behind her.

Billie Lukela turned and saw her husband waiting in the driveway. They had been married for nearly twenty years, but suddenly to her he looked very young. It reminded her of the day he came to her father's house to ask for her hand in marriage. There he was, the big tough-guy football player, shuffling his feet in the driveway like a schoolboy, trying to work up the courage to come knock on the door.

Duke watched as Billie came down the steps toward him. The look on her face amazed him. There was grief in her eyes, yes, but mostly he saw calmness and acceptance and a serenity so deep it frightened him. Duke was a man of strong belief, but Billie's faith surpassed anybody's he'd ever known.

Billie came to him and put her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his broad chest. Duke felt a sob beginning to well up from somewhere deep inside and tried to smother it, but he could not. Billie just hugged him all the harder.

"It's all right, Duke," she whispered. "Julian's in heaven now. Ka palekana wahi."

"It's not all right," Duke choked. He felt hot tears running down his cheeks. "I guess I'm selfish, Billie. I would rather have had him here."

"I know, Duke. I know," Billie whispered, and then they just stood there, holding each other and crying in Hada's driveway. In that time, in that place, ka palekana wahi seemed a long way away.

PAU