Sunny rose with the turn of the year to shine in the Canadian equestrian circuit, winning awards and being written up in the paper, and had fallen in with Todd, a lanky young man from the stables whom she spent every spare hour with, discussing the philosophies of the world, the works of Gertrude Stein, the purpose of Alice B. Toklas and the number of leaves on the Swiss Family Robinson tree at Disney World. Todd and Sunny were inseparable, running to the walking track after work to walk endless miles around the dirt course, keeping their weight under control as both had been chubby children. Todd respected and deeply cared for his new friend, sharing with her cyfeillgarwch, love between friends, having no romantic interest in her and concerned about the quality of man she had married.
With the end of the war and the end of the draft, they'd hoped Duke could return, but he discreetly checked it out and found to his disappointment that he would still be a wanted criminal. Mitchell flowed in and out of their lives as a family friend, amused at this match and not giving it a year, all too clearly seeing Duke's greed and ignorance and familiar from unfortunate experience with Sunny's quick temper, so he just sat back and waited for the floor show to begin.
During this time Sunny mourned the loss of Toughie, who died of kidney failure after a long and frisky life. She had left the old cat with her mother, afraid a move would be too hard on him, and was saddened to hear of his passing, but more angry Victory had waited two weeks to tell her of the event. Sunny knew it was a trivial thing all things considered in life, but never understood her mother's delay, knowing her mother knew the furry beast was dear to her.
Sunny also received regular, flowery letters from Wanda, her friend announcing how she had found a use for her English degree, working as a content editor for a major publishing house, and who knows? May become an publisher some day. Sunny was happy for her friend and secretly breathed the soft perfume Wanda had left on the pages, thinking back on the days they played with the horses and wondering if they would ever be that simple again. She carefully stored the letters in an old cigar box she'd saved and carried with her just for that purpose, and sent a carefully worded reply in which for reasons Sunny really couldn't explain to herself let alone Duke or Todd or Wanda, she somehow omitted the fact she was married - and for the second time. Wanda knew of Mitchell and Duke, but Sunny never told her friend she had ever committed to either of them.
Passion, however, was not enough to keep Duke and Sunny together. He had gained weight and become insecure, starting to imagine Sunny having affairs with every man in sight, and started to be physically abusive. Sunny had no desire to allow that to become a pattern, and promptly decked him the first night he got out of line, then filed for divorce, the marriage not even lasting a year. She wrote Wanda a long letter ranting about the immaturity of men, then fled to her parent's home in Florida to rest and regroup, enduring their lectures on being twice divorced.
In Florida Sunny was able to land a job as a gopher for a psychological research team, making new friends and immensely enjoying the work, since for the first time she actually felt like she was doing something positive and good for mankind. She talked with war survivors, recording their experiences for the psychologists to later analyze, trying to unravel battle fatigue and how it affected men after they had returned home. She was beginning to see a pattern of behavior in after-war life, and saw in that the potential for a major breakthrough in a little recognized problem among particularly American men.
One of her subjects especially interested her because he witnessed the My Lei massacre, and she worked at length with the auto mechanic trying to bring it out of the black hole in his soul that had swallowed it up, having sent him into a nervous breakdown that was immediately chalked up to severe battle fatigue, that shipped him home to suffer on his own, no counseling, no assistance, no help from the government, just a be glad you're outta here and count your blessings flung at him from his buds. Sunny's research study was a novel concept, and the team had to fight hard for the funding, which ended up coming from other soldiers and their families - and not the government. Little did Sunny know she was falling in love with her research subject, and Ken Ling in love with his researcher.
Ken was a Hawaiian native, believing in four major gods and a host of lesser gods. He believed he had a mission to save the world from its own ignorance, having descended from the priest caste in Hawaiian society. While he no longer felt the caste system was appropriate, he did feel he was a legacy to his family, strongly psychic with a faith cast in stone that had given him security and happiness as a child. He came from a traditional family, with good ties between his mother and himself, his father having died when he was young. Sunny found all of this terribly romantic, and found it progressively difficult to keep professional distance when interviewing him.
After several weeks of meetings, he began to end his sessions with a passage that puzzled her, Ken telling her she would just have to learn Hawaiian to understand it, refusing to translate. He ue no ka 'aina hanau, Haku'ie ho'o pau. She suspected it was important to her interpretation of his psychological condition, and spent hours burning into the tropical Florida night, swatting mosquitoes, to try to comprehend the complex tongue. The night she translated it she also realized her time with Ken was over; that he had resolved his memories as best as he could. She greeted him the next day with it.
"A cry for the homeland, Echoes now complete." She said, then waited for his reaction.
"You are correct. Very good. Do you understand it?" The soft spoken man replied, a slight smile on his face, hesitant to show how very happy he really was that she had taken the time to work his mantra out.
"You've resolved the war in your mind. It has come around and you are back where you began. Now, you wish to work for your homeland, Hawaii."
"That's pretty close. I suppose you graduate. It's the 'Hawaiian Chant for the Lost' from the Korean War, by John Keolamaka'ainanakalahuiokalanino Kamehameha'ekolu Lake. A friend of mine who had been in our unit told me about it."
"Run that name by me again?" Sunny asked, astounded at the lengthy name.
"Oh you should hear my full name. You think Ling is all there is to it?" Ken laughed, watching Sunny blush.
"Never mind, I'm not sure I can handle it right at this minute. I mean I've heard Hawaiian names, but that one's gotta be one of the longest I've heard." She paused, not wanting to go on with what she had to say next. "You've graduated too. There's nothing more I can do for you or you for my research. I think you've worked out in your mind your nightmares, and found a way to deal with them. I guess this is our last meeting."
"It doesn't have to be."
"What?" Sunny's heart jumped to perch at the back of her throat.
"How about dinner? As Sunny and Ken, not Counselor Stone and Mr. Ling."
"I don't know Ken. It doesn't seem appropriate."
"How about this then. You finish your report on me so you have nothing more to do with me professionally, then call me when you're done. I'd like to see you again. Socially."
"Fair enough." Sunny accepted the card he offered, mildly surprised to see the number on it different than the office number she had. "Where is this?"
"My mother's home. When I moved here she just had to follow and her house is a tropical island in the middle of a crew cut neighborhood, but she's happy. She'll know where to find me. I tend to move around. I know it must not seem like much of a career, but there are ways to move up in the world of mechanics and when I find out about a good opening I go for it. I spent too long lolling around with my thumb up my ass right after I got back so I've got to make up for lost time now."
"What do you hope to do? Besides cars of course."
"I'd like to work on jets. Planes. Rockets. Do some real miracles and help make man fly."
"Nice goal. You going back to Hawaii to do that?"
"No, I like it here; more opportunity. I'm waiting for an opening at the base. As a veteran I stand a better chance for one of the permanent mechanic positions than most civilians."
"Even with your discharge?"
"I'm cured. Army doesn't look too closely at things like that. If a man can speak and hold up his head, he's healthy enough to work."
"That, I understand. OK. I'll call when the paper is done. I'd like to meet that mama you keep glorifying anyway, so I make it a condition that at least one of our dates includes having her over to my place for dinner."
"You'd do better going to hers. She's a fabulous cook. I can get her to invite us. No offense to your cooking; I'm sure it's delicious, but don't you want to taste real home grown native family cooking?" He drew the last words out slowly, licking his lips as he spoke, nearly making Sunny start to drool. She swallowed quickly and replied.
"I'd be delighted. I'll look forward to when I can call you."
"Me too." Ken flashed her a bright white smile and left, and Sunny caught herself inhaling the warm scent of his spicy cologne, watching how very nicely his strong muscled flanks moved within his lightweight cotton pants, his build being petite and almost feminine in shape, then checked herself with the reminder that at least until her research on him is done, he is a client and nothing more. "Yeah right," she thought to herself and allowed a brief smile to escape, shaking her head, suppressing the sudden desire to rush through the research and try to finish it that very night.
It wasn't long before Sunny and Ken sent the family happy news of their wedding, which was held in Hawaii so that his family could attend and since Victory and that family had always wanted a good excuse to visit the newest state. Cobb was tactfully not invited, the family being greatly concerned over his reaction to Ken being Asian, and they found another pursuit for him while they were away, not telling him the reason for their trip. Dixie was rattled by the fact it was a Hawaiian service and her granddaughter had converted the ancient faith, abandoning both the Presbyterian and Baptist religions. Convinced Sunny and Ken were heathens now, Dixie made it a mission to get the young couple to Georgia as soon as possible, convinced that once Ken saw a good revival he'd change his mind.
Dinah plotted with Dixie in this endeavor, which Victory stoutly refused to have any part of, and the two women gave the newlyweds a full package wedding trip to the exciting city of Macon, which Ken and Sunny thanked them for then quietly put on a shelf, reserved to use should they have a need to return to the south, but certainly not for a honeymoon. Instead, the next year after saving up for it, they returned to the islands and spent a mindless and innocent week at Kee Beach in Kauai, indulging in the beautiful balmy weather, infusing their souls with the fresh scent of the ocean spray and frolicking on the raw unspoiled beach, on an island to themselves, falling in love all over again.
Ken ironically had not yet met Victory until the wedding, for Sunny had kept him away from her home, worried about Cobb's reaction to him, and while Victory knew Ken was Hawaiian, she had not expected him to look so very Asian, sending her into a moment of spluttering babble when they first arrived. Personally, she really didn't mind it, but knew that many of Jedd's family would, not to mention her late grandmother's connections, who were still alive and burning crosses deep within the country. She wasn't quite sure how she was going to handle this in a small town. She found Ken to be a thoughtful, pleasant young man, whose humor kept Jedd going in exchanges of dry rambling jokes, and he found her a gracious mother in law, seeing where Sunny had similarities to her mother, but wise enough not to point them out.
Things went pretty well for most of their first week home, where Ken and Sunny moved into their newlywed apartment in Florida, until Ken expressed a desire to see some of the old family properties up in Georgia, having an avid interest in his own history and wanting to add his wife's history to that knowledge. Reluctantly, Sunny drove up there and showed him around the county, showing the different grand homes of the past, explaining how over time most of them had fallen into other hands, either by sale or loss from taxes. They were in a particularly remote area of the country at the old Stuart home, standing on the blacktop drive when a carload of good old boys drove up in a cloud of orange dust. Sunny had feared it was that group she'd caught glimpses of following them ever since they left the heart of the small town.
"Hey yeller boy. Whacher doin in these parts?"
Sunny shushed Ken and leaned out the window, pouring on the accent she'd long abandoned. "Ah grew up heah an' he's fam'ly."
"We weren't talkin to you old lady." They poured out of their car and surrounded them. Punctuating his remarks with pushes, the leader continued, "we," shove, "were," jab, "talkin," push, "to yeller boy here."
Ken held his ground in silence, having learned from the war that to take the first shot was to invite disaster. He tried to get Sunny to go back to the car, but the boys held him back and grabbed her.
"I betcher like niggers too," the leader declared and pulled her back by her hair. Ken lurched to come to her rescue and was soundly knocked out by another of the men, who had pulled out his belt and clipped him with the heavy buckle. "Now we can have some fun," the first announced as Ken fell in a mute heap on the drive. "Gonna teacher a lesson, woman. Yeller boys ain't welcome here." On that they pushed her to the ground and using a knife to keep her in check, took turns to show her their impression of what they thought she needed - a "real man."
The night fell as the boys rode off in a screech of tires and stench of burnt oil, leaving an unconscious and bleeding Sunny stripped on the ground and an angry Ken coming back from his blackout. He ran to her and held her as she cried, screaming in Hawaiian and Japanese at all the gods he could think of, bundled her into the car and went directly to the hospital. She mutely endured the necessary formalities, grateful times had changed enough that she was treated with gentle respect, and made out her statement for the police. When she asked if the men would be caught soon, the police officer shrugged and said, "There's a lot of wild boys in these parts. We'll do what we can."
Over the next few months, the counselor found herself counseled by her patient, and Ken guided Sunny back to feeling normal again, and once more unafraid of his touch and his presence. On the evening of their anniversary, with wild parrots cackling in the background and sweet oranges heavy in the air, Sunny gave Ken her gratitude for his love, in the form of a dance she wrote as self-imposed therapy. Her hands told an eloquent vision as her gestures spoke in the language he knew.
She began by taking his hand, gently stroking her cheek from eye to chin with it, then rolled into him with his arm around her, rubbing her back against his hand and tilting her head so her hair fell through his fingers. She then bent to his ear as if listening, and swept with her hands and eyes wide as if brushing the air clear to see through. Falling on her back, she mimed the attack, slapped the ground, recoiled as if hurt, and traced the fine line of her healed cut on her neck. Rising, she came back into his arms, passing her hands across her forehead and her eyes and away from her body, grasped the air in front of her mouth and flung that handful of air away, then curled into a fetal ball as if asleep.
She rolled to her back, relaxed, flicking her hands in the air as if something were sparkling there, crawled to him and inhaled deeply. Looking up, she sprung to her feet dancing lightly, arching her hand over the horizon then turned her hand palm up, away from her toward the mountains, making a drum rhythm with her other hand on her thigh. With both hands she began at the ground and brought them up as if a tree rising, brought one to each of their mouths and mimicked breath flowing from them, which she brought to a point above their heads. Lightly she brought her hands down over him, tickling his spine, then brought her hands back to rub her cheeks until they softly blushed pink and ended with one hand on her forehead and the other across her mouth, rolling back to fall into his embrace.
She blushed, unsure of how well she had danced it and handed him the text she wrote to create the dance. Ken took her in his arms and kissed her lingeringly, so proud his wife found his culture so important to learn.
I fall asleep in a soft tan hug, dream amethyst dreams and smell your musk, and dance, wordlessly in honeyed light to distant drums in a green wood in a white castle made by our mingled moist breaths and feel silver shivers tingle my spine that linger, making all the colors rose and all my memories, silence.
Ken took her in his arms and held her, feeling her strength and giving her his, thanking his gods he had found a woman as wonderful as Sunny, while she breathed in his clean, masculine scent and thanked the goddess she had found Ken.
Until the week after that when Sunny went into labor, five months early, not even having realized she had been pregnant since her periods had always been irregular and she'd always battled having a pudgy tummy. She was alone, at home. The pain was so severe she collapsed, unable to reach the phone, and delivered a stillborn baby on the living room carpet on a windy, chilly day, then passed out, the twisted baby still connected to a bloody umbilical that trailed to the aborted placenta, dark with clots the color of dead leaves gathering on the windowsills. Ken learned of it to his horror and grief six hours later when he returned from work.
In the hospital blood tests determined the baby was likely Ken's child and not one of the attacker's, and learned Ken's exposure to Agent Orange may have caused the stillbirth, for the baby was severely deformed and naturally aborted. The birth defects helped Sunny distance her feelings to some extent, as she would not have wanted to bring a baby into the world who would have been nothing much more than a vegetable, and grotesque in appearance as well. But it was still a loss, and the couple grieved. Sunny could not take returning to the apartment; they tried but she had nightmares and an irrational terror of entering the living room, so Ken felt it best to pack up the house and move to his mother's town in central Florida. He had a lead on a HVAC mechanic's position at a small religious college nearby, and Victory helped by finding them a nice little house complete with white picket fence not far from there, so the little family moved.
At first in a new town, Sunny felt all the more alone, and lamented the absence in her womb, wishing they had had a healthy baby to join them in this home, to complete their family, acutely aware her age was creeping up on her and perhaps it was already too late to conceive again, her longing to have children growing with each birthday. Late one evening, listening to tree frogs and swinging on the front porch with Ken, Sunny fell into the cant of the bard, reaching back into the music of language her grandfather taught her and her mother bequeathed to her, finally spent of strength, and begged his help.
"Listen to my grief, my guilts, my fears - help me forget the cold shadow in that room, whose vision dances in my words that wash across in waves you gently steer. Help me forget the hollow cry, the fleeting sleep, the miles to go that we must keep - the fact I could not heal myself. I marvel at your strength and wonder at how passion follows grief, and dream a sweet forgetting sleep in which your love's a light to wash away all shades and warm my dreams."
Secure in Ken's love, Sunny healed, and strong in the way of women, she survived.