Angels of the Pacific by Elise Hooper

Author:Elise Hooper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-12-11T00:00:00+00:00

17.

Flor

September 1942

Manila

One afternoon in September, when Flor, Iris, and Luchie returned from Santo Tomas, they found a man wearing a suit and tie standing at their front door. Flor estimated him to be a couple of years older than her. He was handsome with high cheekbones, thick and wavy dark hair, and wide-set eyes.

When Iris spotted him, she let out a small cry and then froze. At the sight of this stranger standing outside of their front door, Luchie moved in front of Iris and Flor. “How may I help you?”

He smiled sadly. “I’m Dr. Ernesto Marcial and am hoping to speak with Iris Dalisay.”

Iris blanched. She grabbed Flor’s hand and didn’t let go. Luchie raised a brow, but Flor shrugged to show she didn’t know what was happening either.

Luchie cleared her throat. “Please, come upstairs, Dr. Marcial. I will fetch you a cold drink while you speak with her.”

They climbed the stairs in silence and upon reaching the top, Luchie led the group to the sala before departing for the kitchen. Iris tightened her grasp on Flor’s hand as she sat. Pilar entered the room and introduced herself to Dr. Marcial. “How may we help you?” she asked.

The man gave a small bow. “Mrs. Dalisay, I’m afraid I’m here with sad news. My family recently learned that my older brother, Vincent, is dead and it’s our understanding he had become good friends with Miss Iris while they served together on Bataan.”

Iris squeezed her eyes closed and made a small animal-like sound from deep in her throat, a sound Flor had never heard before. Pilar stroked the space between Iris’s shoulder blades before turning her attention back to the young man. “I’m so sorry for the loss of your brother. We’re grateful for his service, but I know this is of little comfort to your grieving family.”

The man nodded, his expression sorrowful. “My parents received a note from his corps informing us that he died of typhoid at Camp O’Donnell.”

Luchie had returned to the room with a glass of cold lime juice, but she hesitated upon seeing how Iris’s shoulders shook as she listened to Dr. Marcial. Luchie met Flor’s gaze. Who was this Vincent? But Iris’s quiet sobs gave them no time to ask questions.

Dr. Marcial reached into his suit jacket’s pocket and pulled out a letter. “He also wrote this for you, Iris, and my parents asked that I deliver it.”

He held it out, but Iris kept her hands over her face so he offered the letter to Flor and she accepted it.

An awkward silence. “I can let myself out,” he said.

Flor followed him to the top of the stairs and before he descended, he turned to her. “I’m going to return in a few days to check on your sister. My brother would have wanted me to.” It wasn’t a question; he suggested it gently, and Flor got the impression she could have discouraged him. Instead she nodded. “That would be fine, Dr. Marcial.”

“Please, call me Ernesto,” he said.

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