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"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."

~Dr. Seuss

March 19, 1942,

Dear Esme,

Hi sis. Can you believe it's already been four months that I've been here? I don't know why I don't remember the mainland being this cold, but even in the spring it feels cold. It makes me miss the warmth of home, and the waves. God, do I miss those waves.

Do you remember that time when we were kids and you took me to the beach right after I learned how to swim? Mom and dad wanted you to spend some time with me since you only ever wanted to be with your friends. Typical girl. Even when it was just the two of us you were too busy with your book to pay attention to what I was doing so you told me if I went in the water a giant man-eating shark would come and get me. I ran all the way home screaming about sharks and not wanting to ever go to the beach again. Dad had to carry me out into the water with him to prove that you were lying.

I'm not sure I ever forgave you for that.

If I didn't I will tell you now. You're forgiven.

It helps that you bought me ice cream the next day, even though mom told me that dad paid you to do that as an apology.

We've come a long way since those days, haven't we sis? I guess my time here on the mainland has really shown me that. We're grown up now. It feels different being here this time. It feels more real. I'm not exactly scared, but I'm sure not as brave as I could be. You know what I do when I want to feel brave? I think about my sister. I think about that crazy girl who made up stories about man-eating sharks just to terrify a six-year-old.

Sometimes I think about how it took dad weeks to convince me the water was safe after that day, but once I realized it no one could pull me away from Mamala Bay again. So really I have you to thank for my first encounter with bravery (and for my love of surfing).

Other times, though, when I need to feel a rush of courage I think of you on that day in the hangar bay at Hickham. The way you stood tall in the face of devastation and said goodbye to Charles with a smile because you knew wherever he was, he would be happy. We both knew that he would die doing what he loved.

That's the image I cling too when they tell us the news coming out of Europe. It makes me remember what I'm doing here and why.

I've made a few friends here. The other night I had a drink with one of the guys, Jasper. He doesn't have any family left so he enlisted just so he could belong somewhere. You always tell me I was born to do this. Well, last night I told Jasper he was. He's a natural at it. I think he always belonged here. It makes me want to believe in that fate stuff you and Rose are always talking about.

There is no word yet as to where I will be permanently stationed or when I might be sent overseas. I no longer consider this an option. It is now inevitable. Do not worry for me, though, sis. You and I both know this is what I'm meant to do.

Give my regards to everyone on the island, and soak up some of those rays for me. I love you, Esme.

Your favorite brother,

Edward

I laughed even as the tears glazed over my eyes.

Favorite brother.

He had been saying that since we were teenagers. It was a long standing joke in our family given that he was my only brother.

It had been four months to the day since I had last seen Edward. After the attack on Pearl Harbor he was granted temporary leave and went through rigorous psychological treatment under military doctors to come to terms with the things he had seen that day. He went back to work on Pearl the first week of January, but was reassigned to a training base on the mainland the second week of February. It was now April and I was holding my second letter from my baby brother. Each one was postmarked for the month anniversary of the date that he left.

To say it these last six months had been the hardest I had ever endured would be a vast understatement.

Once the shock wore off and the grief set in I nearly lost all sense of who I was. I barely emerged from my room that month, not wanting to burden my family with my depression and terrible mood swings.

Every day was an uphill battle toward normalcy, and more than once I simply gave up and screamed, cried, and even smashed things.

It had become so distressing to my parents that at one point they had gone into my father's study to discuss possibly sending me to my maternal grandparents' house on the mainland. They thought they would help me by sending me away from the place that held so many memories of Charles.

I understood their logic. After all, time and distance heal all wounds, right? I knew, though, that taking me away from my home and all the people I loved would only do more harm than good. Oahu was where I belonged. It was home, whether Charles was here with me or not, there was no better place in the world for me for me than where I was.

That was the day I vowed not to let my personal grief stand in the way of the relationships I still had. My parents, Edward, and Rosalie were instrumental in helping me manage my grief and get to a place where I was no longer angry.

I was determined to be as strong as I had been the day we buried Charles, but it was my brother who finally convinced me that I was justified in my anger and grief, and that I shouldn't let our parents take that away from me by threatening to send me to the mainland.

I spent the last days before Edwards's departure in a state of immense grief. The pain and heartache I felt those days far surpassed what I had experienced in the days when I first let my grief for Charles overwhelm me.

Although I knew it was not the case I felt like I was being abandoned by my brother. I screamed at him for hours the day before he left and even threw a dinner plate at his head. He stood there as solid as a rock while I unleashed my pain on him, and never said a word until I collapsed on the kitchen floor and let the tears flow freely.

Edward did nothing more than sit down beside me, pull me into his arms, and let me cry my frustrations out while repeatedly hitting him in the chest. He softly whispered that he loved me and that he was sorry over and over again until I fell asleep on the floor in his arms.

I woke the next morning in my bed. The shame rolled over me in waves as I recalled what I had done. Edward deserved nothing more than my love and my support, and I had failed him in both of those things.

I just barely made it to the base that day to say goodbye. His smile nearly took my breath away as I threw myself into the arms of the brother I didn't deserve. The tears that fell that day were neither born from grief nor anger. They were the tears of a woman who realized everything she still had to live for just in time to begin cherishing those things once more.

So, to see Edward write that he would call on images of me when in need of courage humbled me beyond measure. I knew no soul alive who was braver than my brother. He was always the first person to put himself on the line to save the lives of people he did not even know. He saw things that day that no one should ever see. Did things no one should ever be called upon to do. He was only nineteen years old, yet he had lived more than some who were near the end of long lives.

And, of course, being a typical younger brother he would bring up a moment I was not particularly proud of. The day of the man-eating shark incident was the first time my parents had ever yelled at me. As a nine-year-old girl I couldn't comprehend why I was in so much trouble. All I wanted was for Edward to leave me alone, but not get into any trouble either.

He had only ever been swimming in the pool at our house. I knew the undercurrent in the bay could catch him and he would never know what to do. I thought I was being smart in keeping him out of the water, but now, with the clarity of distance, and several tragic events to sharpen my focus, I could see what I should have done.

Now I would give anything to be out in that water with my brother, enjoying the sun, getting an ice cream, and sitting out on the surf boards. Back then, I was too wrapped up in my own little world to spare my brother a single afternoon of fun.

I couldn't change the past, but that did not mean I couldn't make it up to him now. Edward's number one complaint when he was in basic training was that he couldn't get any guava on the mainland. I could slip down to the grocer later this afternoon and pick some up to send to him along with my letter.

I quickly made my way to the small writing desk in my bedroom and retrieved a pen and some paper. I made my way down the stairs and onto the deck that overlooked the large swimming pool. It was a warm morning, but a gentle breeze still blew cool air, and the sun was high, not a single cloud in the cerulean sky.

It was a perfect Hawaiian day, but just as all recent days, it was overshadowed by the looming reality of war.

Ships could be seen in the harbor bustling with activity and wartime training. The whole island had a businesslike air to it, and people moved around in a somber fashion.

Oahu was in the business of military. It was what we lived and breathed on this island.

The pain inflicted by Japan's attack on the heart of the Pacific Fleet was not something that time would soon erase.

These wounds would be present forever.

Long after the lives of those who lived it were extinguished.

With a heart full of yearning for the long past days of man-eating sharks I began to write.

April 12, 1942

Dear Edward,

I cannot honestly remember if I ever verbally apologized for the incident at the beach. It seems strange that you would forgive me for something for which I may not have made amends. So with that in mind, just in case I didn't say it then let me tell you that I'm sorry. When you come home we'll have a day at the beach – just the two of us. We can do whatever you want.

I wish you were here to enjoy this warm weather with me, but I'm convinced it can't possibly be as cool on the mainland as you say it is. I think your perception is faulty from too many years in paradise.

Speaking of paradise, I'm sending some things from home that are sure to brighten your mood. I know how sad it makes you that you can't get any guava over there. I just hope they ship okay and haven't gone bad by the time they reach you.

Since you included a story from our childhood in your letter I'm going to return the favor. Remember teaching me how to surf with Charles? I was so awful it was a wonder that the two of you kept trying to help me improve all afternoon. I even broke your board on a rock and you became angry and threw a guava at my head.

Our parents have never understood why we like to throw fruit at each other so much. I wish I could be there to throw the ones I'm shipping to you, as per tradition.

I'm glad you're making friends on base. It always helps to have someone around who understands the position you're in and can help you forget about it for a little while. Jasper sounds like a great guy. I know Rose has been just as important in helping me come to terms with my new reality as well.

On a more serious note, it is very conflicting for me to hear you talk about my bravery. I'm not brave, Edward. You are brave. You were destined to be a sailor, baby brother. I'm so proud of you. You will always be my hero.

It is still a struggle every day for me to overcome the loss of Charles, and now your absence. I do not want you to feel any guilt for not being here, however. You are where you're meant to be.

Every day I wake up and look at my photograph of you in your uniform. You exude the confidence of a man who has his purpose in life, and it gives me the strength to believe there is still something in this world for me.

Keep your chin up little brother. I can't wait to see you again. Love you always.

Your amazing sister,

Esme

I leaned back in the wicker chair and read through the letter once, hoping the censors didn't find anything wrong with it, before I heard the patio door open.

"Good morning, dear," Rose's cheery voice sang.

"It's nearly noon, Rose."

She sat down in the chair opposite mine and glanced at the letter. "Edward?"

I nodded. "I received one from him this morning."

"What's the latest news?"

I shrugged. "Not much. He still isn't sure when he'll be sent overseas. He's made some friends, though." I laughed. "He also brought up the man-eating shark."

"I remember that day." She shook her head, laughing. "I never thought he would go into that water again."

"Yes, well, I got him back. I brought up the day they taught me how to surf."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Of course you did. It was the beginning of many years of sibling rivalry through fruit throwing."

We both dissolved into a fit of adolescent laughter.

"It feels so good to laugh again," I finally said.

"There have been good moments these last few months, haven't there?"

I smiled sadly. Rosalie Lillian Hale was the sweetest person I knew. When we were children my mother would tell her she must have been spun from the sugar cane that came from the land.

I failed our friendship as terribly as I failed my relationship with my brother during that first month after Charles's death.

No matter how much I pushed her away, though, she never budged.

She would stand in my bedroom while I screamed and cried and told her I wanted to be left alone.

She never left me alone.

I was angry about it then, but I saw now why she did it and I was eternally grateful. She absorbed my pain into herself and pushed her strength into me. She never wavered – always stayed strong, even when I was my most hateful towards her. She knew it wasn't me talking. She knew the grief was eating me alive and that it would stop at nothing to break me.

Rose broke my grief.

The combined efforts of her and my brother pulled me out of my own personal hell, and back into the brightness of all that I still had.

It had taken a long time to be able to sit outside in the sunshine and laugh with my best friend, but because of her, I could enjoy my life again.

I wanted to get out of the chair and hug her, but a week ago she told me I was hugging her too much and I was now banned from hugging except in extreme circumstances.

"There have been wonderful moments, Rose," I said. "Thanks entirely to you."

She let the compliment roll off her like always, and smiled at me.

"I could never have helped you out of the dark if you hadn't truly wanted out."

"You did force the issue a little bit," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Yes, well, I saw that you were ready so I gave you a push."

My eyes fell to the ring I wore on a chain around my neck. I picked it up and watched the sun dance across each diamond.

"I feel like I'm leaving him behind." My voice was low and steady, but I could hear the heartache seeping through. I knew Rose could hear it too from the way her face fell.

"You're not, honey. He'll always be with you, but you have to live your life. You know that's what he wants for you. Charles only ever wanted you to be happy, no matter what happened to him."

I knew she was right. Charles would be disappointed by the way I behaved in the aftermath of his death. He would want me to move on – to enjoy my life.

It wasn't going to be easy, though. Every day was still an uphill climb.

I nodded at Rose, confirming for her that I knew what she was saying was true.

"Do you think you're up for a little fun this afternoon?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"A few of the nurses are going down to Water's Edge by Waikiki to listen to some jazz. We can tag along."

"Alright," I said. "But first I need to buy some guava and send this letter to Edward with the fruit."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Why does it not surprise me you're sending him fruit when you brought up the surfing lessons in your letter?"

I laughed. "He misses them, and I'm more than happy to do whatever I can to increase my baby brother's morale."

We walked back into the house to find my mother rolling a large stack of Speak American posters on the breakfast table.

"Good morning, Mrs. Masen." Rose walked right over and kissed my mother on the cheek. She had always treated my parents as if they were her own, and she probably always would. That's why she was also allowed to simply walk into our house whenever she pleased.

"It's nice to see you this morning, Rosalie. You're looking well."

My mother also never called Rose by her shortened name in her life even though Rose prefers it. She loved it when my mother calls her Rosalie though. My mother is the only person Rose allows to call her by her full name.

"Where are you girls headed off too?"

"I have to mail this letter to Edward, and then we're going to listen to a little jazz," I replied.

My mother pursed her lips for a brief moment, but didn't say anything. She didn't approve of leisure activities during wartime. She couldn't understand that having an outlet to forget about day to day worries every once in a while was a good thing. It boosted civilian morale.

"Well don't forget to take your masks with you," she said, pointing to the cumbersome gas mask hanging by the door.

It was greatly frowned upon by the military police to be in public without a mask. Citizens were required to carry them everywhere.

"Of course, mother. I won't be gone that long." I gave her a hug and made my way to the door while Rose hugged my mother and told her goodbye.

We both grabbed our masks and headed down the walkway toward town, carrying the masks like purses.

Springtime in Hawaii had always been my favorite season. It was warm, but not hot. The sun came out every day, and rarely could a cloud be found in the sky. The plant and animal life thrived, and there was always an air of happiness around. Even though the islands were under martial law, none of us considered ourselves to be truly safe. Despite the fear it was still possible to see the carefree Hawaiian spirit underneath the fear of war.

We walked with gentle steps down the small hills that led from our affluent neighborhood into the outskirts of Honolulu. Barely even three blocks from my home was one of the last remaining Japanese American grocers. How old man Kimura stayed in business I would probably never know.

More and more Japanese Americans were being loaded onto ships every day, destined for detention camps. The streets of Honolulu were dotted with boarded up shops and restaurants that had been shut down by the military, and whose owners were rounded up and shipped to the mainland.

Mister Kimura had been giving Edward and me fruit at a discount since we were children, and he always enjoyed teasing us about our tendency to throw it at each other rather than eat it.

"To be a child again," he would say, his voice full of wistful longing.

We found Mister Kimura outside of his small shop, sweeping the path between the papayas and the pineapples. He waved to us and nodded with a smile to the crate that was overflowing with guavas.

The old man knew us well.

"I give them to you free, Esme. I don't want their military money."

I nodded, knowing I could never fight him on it, but I vowed to ask mother to bring him some food so he could at least feed his family for one more day.

I grabbed a couple pieces of fruit, waved goodbye to Mister Kimura, and walked across the street to the small post office where Rose was already getting the correct parcel.

After confirming with the Victory Mail clerk that I could indeed ship the fruit to the mainland we bundled everything up, handed the clerk one of the new military issued dollar bills, and sent Edward a small piece of home.

I couldn't wait to get his reaction.

Rose and I managed to get enough money together for a cab ride down to the beach instead of choosing to walk. It was already half past two and the small jazz band that played on the weekends would be starting soon.

Several army trucks passed us as we pulled up in front of the restaurant, reminding me, as always, of all that had changed in the last six months.

Rose led me through the crowd quickly to a large corner booth that overlooked Mamala Bay. Several of the women I had seen with Rose in the first days after the attack were at the bar, along with some I had never seen before. We sat down and Rose introduced me to one of the new nurses who had been stationed on Pearl, Alice.

She was one of the smallest girls I had ever seen, but she was beyond sweet and I knew I adored her immediately.

"Rose tells me you're also from Honolulu," she said, her voiced laced with the wonder of a child on Christmas morning.

I smiled. "All my life; my grandparents grew sugar cane."

"I love it here!" Her voice grew more and more excited with every word. "It must be amazing to grow up in a place as beautiful as this."

She had the brightest smile and highest voice and was obviously full of perpetual energy. I could see why Rose liked her so much. She would be a wonderful person to have around when the weight of the world became too intense.

"Amazing barely covers it," I said.

"Rose tells me stories all the time about all the things she's done around the island. You'll have to share your own someday."

"Of course; I would love that."

She beamed at me, her bright blue eyes brimming with happiness. I could tell I was going to become very good friends with Alice. I could not help but love her.

The three of us made small talk for several moments while civilians and military personnel milled around us.

Alice had just been assigned to Pearl a week ago and she was overflowing with enthusiasm over all that there was to see and experience on the island. She made Rose and me promise to take her to some of the areas that were under less supervision so that she could get the true feel for life on Oahu.

As the band began their first set I turned my attention to beach outside the large window, longing for the days Alice wanted to hear stories about. The days when Waikiki beach wasn't surrounded by a barbed wire fence, people could come and go as they pleased at any hour of the day or night; there was no war, no heartache – nothing but family, friends, and Charles.

I had to wipe a stray tear at the thought of my fiancé. He had always loved going to the large dance halls every weekend. He would put on his dress uniform, I would wear my nicest red swing dress, and we would dance halfway into the night.

In the aftermath of the attack on Pearl most of the dance halls had been forced to close. One of the effects of martial law was a six p.m. curfew every night. There was no way for any of the evening entertainment establishments to keep themselves in business.

I felt Rose's hand on my arm and turned to see her sympathetic smile.

"Are you okay? We can leave if you want."

"I'm fine, Rose. I was just thinking about how we used to go dancing every weekend."

She leaned her head on my shoulder and rubbed my arm soothingly.

"I know you still don't want to hear this, but one day, Esme, there will be dancing again. I promise."

Another tear slipped down my cheek before Rose pulled me out of the booth.

"I know when things are too much for you, Esme. We'll go back to your house and see if your mom might make us some homemade ice cream."

"Rose…" I protested.

"I know, I know; food rationing. I don't care right now. You deserve ice cream so I'm going to make sure you get it."

We said goodbye to Alice and several of the other girls before making our way down to the line of cabs that were waiting to take home people who had taken one drink too many.

oOoOoOo

An hour later found us sitting on the veranda at my parents' house enjoying my mother's homemade vanilla ice cream. There was only a short time left until the mandatory curfew when Rose would have to be home and everyone was required to pull down their blackout curtains, so I wanted to spend every last minute of daylight left outside.

"Esme, I know sometimes you think I push you too hard to get back into your routine, but it's only because I'm worried about you."

Rose's voice was light but contained an undercurrent of concern. I knew that I still worried her. I may not have thrown anything at her or screamed at her in several months, but events like the overwhelming sadness that had plagued me in the restaurant proved to her that the gaping hole in my heart was not yet completely healed.

I doubted it would be for quite a long time.

"It's not your fault, Rose. I thought I would be fine today. I guess I just let my thoughts run away with me."

She sighed. "It happens. That's why I brought you home. You took a giant step today and went out to enjoy something that you haven't enjoyed since Charles's death. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Rose. Have I ever told you what an amazing friend you are?"

"Every day since we were two," she declared proudly.

I swatted her arm playfully. "So conceited you are."

"No darling; just very self-assured."

"Will you be in church tomorrow?" She stood and picked up both our bowls.

"You know I wouldn't miss it," I replied.

"Good." She rubbed my arm, and placed a kiss on my cheek. "I'm going to get home before they start checking for curfew breakers. You sit here and enjoy the rest of the sundown."

I leaned back in my chair and curled my legs underneath me, remembering the first time I had watched a Hawaiian sunset with Charles.

I had just turned sixteen and Charles took me to Diamond Head for the day. We sat on the edge of the magnificent crater and watched the sun sink toward the horizon in a beautiful display of orange and yellow.

It was the first time he told me he loved me.

I knew I would never forget that moment, or the way his arms felt around me, or the soft way he whispered my name right before he kissed me for the first time.

I smiled as I recalled how nervous he was to kiss me that day. I never figured out why he would think I might reject him. I had never asked him about it. It was one of those things I thought I had more time to find out.

Now I would never know.

Regardless of all that I had lost, however, nothing could keep me from smiling, because at one time I had held everything I wanted in the palm of my hand.

My mother used to tell me that true love was something rare. Not everyone experienced it as I had, and not everyone who had experienced true love valued it as they should.

I would always be grateful for the love that Charles and I shared, and though he was no longer here, I knew wherever he was, he was smiling – just as I was.

Aikane is a Hawaiian word for friend.

Endless thanks to Mackenzie L. for beta-ing and texasunshine for pre-reading.

Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it so far.