Beside Still Waters
Debbie Viguié
Beside Still Waters
Other Books by Debbie Viguié
The Psalm 23 Mysteries
The Lord is My Shepherd
I Shall Not Want
Lie Down in Green Pastures
The Kiss Trilogy
Kiss of Night
Kiss of Death
Sweet Seasons
The Summer of Cotton Candy
The Fall of Candy Corn
The Winter of Candy Canes
The Spring of Candy Apples
Witch Hunt
The Thirteenth Sacrifice
Beside Still Waters
Psalm 23 Mysteries
By Debbie Viguié
Published by
Big Pink Bow
Beside Still Waters
Copyright
©
2012 by Debbie Viguié
ISBN-13: 978-0615675978
Published by Big Pink Bow
www.bigpinkbow.com
All rights reserved.
N
o part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, record
ing, or otherwise), without
prior written permission of bot
h the copyright owner and the
publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, ch
aracters, places, and incidents
either are the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. A
ny resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
is purely
coincidental.
This book
is dedicated to all the devoted fans out there who’ve been waiting for so long to continue on this journey with Cindy and Jeremiah. Thank you all for caring so deeply.
Although the job of writing a book can be incredibly lonely and isolating at times, there are those who touch our lives and ease our burden. I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the friends, family, and colleagues who have encouraged me and helped me on this journey. Thank you for all of your efforts to keep me sane and keep me writing! Love to you all.
1
Cindy Preston loved Saturdays. She loved them even more when she was on vacation and as she finished eating breakfast at her hotel, the Waikiki Beachcomber in Honolulu, she thought that this might just be one of the best Saturdays ever. There was a stack of brochures on her table all extolling the virtues of various sights and activities on the island.
As she finished her soda she thought gratefully of Harry, the man who had originally won the trip to Hawaii at the time share sales seminar but had swapped her for the mini television she had won. A long weekend in Hawaii was just what the doctor had ordered and she’d been looking forward to it for months. She had flown in the day before and was flying out on Tuesday morning, but planned to cram as much relaxation and sight-seeing into that time as she possibly could.
She tapped the top brochure on the stack with a pink fingernail she’d had manicured for the occasion. It was Memorial Day weekend and she couldn’t think of a better way to keep the holiday than by going to Pearl Harbor and seeing the Arizona Memorial.
I wonder what Jeremiah’s doing?
she thought as she stood and gathered her things. Jeremiah Silverman was the rabbi at the synagogue next door to the Presbyterian church where Cindy worked as a secretary. Since they had first met the previous year over the body of a dead man in the church sanctuary they had forged an unlikely alliance and a budding friendship that meant more to her than she liked to admit to herself.
He had volunteered to drop her off at the airport the day before and would be picking her up Tuesday morning when she returned.
I should have taken the whole week off work
, she lamented. There was no way she was going to be in the mood for work Wednesday morning. And G
eanie
, her new roommate and the church’s graphic designer, had made it quite clear that if she didn’t come back with pictures of the wedding pavilions of a couple of the local hotels that she shouldn’t come back at all.
Geanie
had recently become engaged to Joseph, a wealthy church member and a friend of Cindy’s.
She briefly thought about changing out of her shorts into jeans before heading for the memorial, but decided against it. Looking at her overly pale legs no one would guess she was a California native. Some sun would do her good. Plus it just felt too hot to be wearing anything more than the khaki shorts and green tank top she had donned for breakfast.
As she grabbed a taxi and settled into the backseat her mind drifted back to her friends a
t
home. She wanted to make sure to take them back some souvenirs. Although she suspected that was going to end up being boxes of chocolate covered macadamia nuts. She had nearly eaten an entire box herself last night after dinner.
“Where you from?”
Cindy jumped, startled, as she realized that the taxi driver, a large Hawaiian man who seemed to completely fill the front seat of the cab, was talking to her.
“California.”
“No kidding, my cousin lives there.”
“Small world,” she murmured.
“How long you stay?”
“I go home Tuesday.”
“Too bad.”
“Yes, I wish I could stay longer,” she said.
“It’s a good time to see the Memorial. It’s sacred ground you know.”
“Because of the men who died there?” she asked.
“Because of the sacrifice, the dead, the living.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“You like good food?”
“Yes, do you have any recommendations?”
“Sure. You should go eat lunch at my uncle’s restaurant. They have da kine plate lunch, best on island.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s off the base about a fifteen minute walk from where I’m dropping you off. He’s great friends with the sailors. I show you and you no miss it.”
“Thanks.”
A few minutes later when they pulled up outside the Pearl Harbor Visitor Center he pointed out how she could find Uncle’s.
“Here, I give you business card. You need taxi, you call me I take good care of you. And go to Uncle’s for lunch. Tell him I sent you. He give you local discount.”
“Thanks,” she said. She took the business card he gave her and slipped it into her purse.
She walked into the Center and began to look around. There were displays talking about the attack on Pearl Harbor during World War II. A screen showed the few bits of footage they had of the actual attack. People were milling around quietly. She headed into the gift store and bought a small book and a couple of postcards. At the register there were miniature decks of playing cards with pictures of Hawaii on them. She added them to her purchase on an impulse.
After about an hour she boarded the boat to head on over to the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial. A tour group was on the boat as well and she listened as the guide explained what they were about to see.
“The memorial itself actually straddles the sunken Arizona. In the middle of the memorial you’ll be able to look down into the water and see one of its gun turrets. The sailors who died on the Arizona are still there on the ship.”
Cindy shuddered as she felt her pulse begin to race a little. She couldn’t help but think about her sister who had died when they were children. Her body had been recovered, buried in a grave where family could visit. The sailors were interred in their watery grave. How hard must that have been on friends and family?
She bit her lip and forced herself to refocus on what the guide was saying. “Other ships were sunk as well. The Oklahoma capsized almost immediately. Some sailors were able to survive by escaping through the portals. The portals were so narrow, though, that only the skinniest made it out. Their friends and comrades who could not fit helped shove them through until they themselves drowned.”
Horror stole through her as she thought about what those trapped men had gone through. She couldn’t imagine a worse death than drowning. And yet they had had the courage to help push their friends to safety. She understood suddenly what her taxi driver had meant by sacrifice.
As they neared the dock she looked around. Leis and wreaths floated in the water all around the Memorial.
Hallowed ground
, she thought. As she stared at the floating tokens she felt tears sting her eyes.
The boat docked and a minute later she was standing on the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial and around her people’s voices were hushed.
Because we’re standing on top of graves
, she realized as her eyes scanned the list of names on the wall which was accompanied by a plaque that proclaimed:
To the memory of the gallant men here entombed and their shipmates who gave their lives in action on December 7, 1941 on the U.S.S. Arizona.
One older man covered in tattoos was standing, tears streaming freely down his face. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had a relative who had been killed there or if it was just the power and poignancy of the place itself that so touched him.
She walked around, looking out at the harbor around them. She skirted the section in the middle where you could look down on the ship itself. She couldn’t bring herself to look, afraid that she would start crying uncontrollably. Chills kept washing over her. The day before Pearl Harbor had just been a name to her, a place, a
n
historical event. And now it felt so real and she mourned the men who had died there decades before she was born.
She could tell people around her were feeling the same way. A woman nearby was crying and hugging a uniformed soldier, thanking him for his service to his country. Cindy respected her reaction and felt the need to thank every member of the armed services personally and individually for their service, their sacrifice.
It was more than she’d expected to feel and it overwhelmed her. She thought about Jeremiah. He was from Israel and like all of its citizens he had served his time in the military.
He could have been killed, just like the men here. There is so much violence in that part of the world, so many attacks though smaller than this one deadly still. And he could have lost his life in any one of them. And then I never would have met him. And I would have been killed last year.
