Synopsis:
1943 As the war in the Pacific rages on, Isabel Cooper and her codebreaker colleagues huddle in “the Dungeon,” also known as Station Hypo, at Pearl Harbor, Hawai’i, deciphering secrets plucked from the airwaves in a race to bring down the enemy. Isabel has only one wish — to avenge the death of her brother, Walt, on December 7, 1941. But she soon finds another way to honor his memory and keep him alive in her heart when she meets his best friend, a hotshot pilot with secrets of his own.
1965 Lu Freitas, a fledgling journalist working for Sunset magazine, comes home to the Big Island of Hawai’i to cover the grand opening of the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel, Laurance Rockefeller’s newest and grandest project. She gets acquainted with a high-profile celebrity guest who goes missing. And forms an unlikely alliance with an intimidating veteran photographer — who has recently left his position with Life magazine to become a freelancer — to unravel the mystery. The two make a shocking discovery that stirs up memories and uncovers an explosive secret from World War II days . . . that only a codebreaker can crack.
A brilliant female codebreaker. An “unbreakable” Japanese naval code. A pilot on a top-secret mission that could change the course of World War II. The Codebreaker’s Secret is the latest tale of love and intrigue inspired by actual events and set, in part, during America’s darkest hour from Hawai’i native Sara Ackerman.
Review:
Sara Ackerman, a native Hawai’ian, is the author of four previous novels: Island of Sweet Pies and Soldiers, The Lieutenant’s Nurse, Red Sky Over Hawai’i, and Radar Girls. She studied journalism, earned graduate degrees in psychology and Chinese medicine, and worked as a high school counselor and teacher on O’ahu’s north shore prior to practicing acupuncture. She began writing her first novel in 2012, and unabashedly blames the beautiful state of Hawai’i for her addiction to writing. The island paradise is replete with rich, untapped stories.
It was while drafting her second published novel, The Lieuteant’s Nurse, that Ackerman found inspiration for The Codebreaker’s Secret. One character in that book was a linguist and through her research, Ackerman learned about the Dungeon, also known as Station Hypo, situated at Pearl Harbor, Hawai’i. There, as well as at other secure locations including Washington, D.C. and the Philippines, secret messages were decrypted which proved instrumental to the Allies’ World War II victory. Work performed in the Dungeon — so nicknamed because it was located underground — contributed to success in the battle of Midway. Ackerman learned that it was primarily women — more than ten thousand of them — who cracked German and Japanese ciphers and codes, although none of them were assigned to the Dungeon so far as Ackerman was able to discern. She describes those women as America’s “secret superpower, and they did everything from breaking major codes to translating messages to traffic analysis.”
Ackerman conducted extensive research to learn about codebreaking — an extremely technical, complicated, and often laborious and frustrating effort, as depicted in Ackerman’s story, that often required years of work by teams. “Trying to understand the codes and how one would even go about breaking them was really mind-boggling,” Ackerman admits. During the war, the codes and ciphers employed were sophisticated, which demonstrates how bright the women enlisted to break them had to be. Sadly, Ackerman was unable to locate any living codebreakers to interview about the process. But she discovered that it is a tedious process that involves a search for patterns and commonly used characters. Codes replace original messages with arbitrary symbols (numbers or letters). The code is usually memorialized in a codebook. “For example, code for Sara could be 7272, or as in the famous Japanese Wind codes during the war, East Wind Rain, broadcasted over the radio meant that war was imminent with the U.S.” But ciphers alter original messages using algorithms (a series of instructions contained within a key). “For example, it could be to shift each letter by four. So A would be D, M would be O.” In Hawai’i, codebreakers worked on a Japanese cipher machine called Purple (dubbed Magenta in The Codebreaker’s Secret), as well as the Japanee naval code, JN-25, which figures in the story. Because they employed over thirty thousand five-numeral groups, along with additives (ciphers containing false arithmetic), the Japanese believed the code could not be cracked. But by doing just that, the U.S. defeated Japan. “Countless women had a hand in this,” Ackerman relates. She describes the Allies’ success as a collaboration of “brilliant minds,” noting it is said that war in the Pacific Theater “was won in the Dungeon.”
Isabel Cooper, Ackerman’s protagonist in The Codebreaker’s Secret, is her fictional compilation of the intelligent and dedicated women who, Ackerman laments, “were barely recognized for all of their contributions. That’s the thing about top secret work — no one knows that you’re doing it, but often times, it’s the most important work of all.” The story opens in September 1942. Isabel is a cryptanalyst stationed in Washington, D.C. and having trouble concentrating on her work on what would have been her brother’s twenty-fifth birthday. Isabel wants nothing more desperately than to be transferred to Station Hypo at Pearl Harbor so that she can see the place where Walt’s plane plunged into the Pacific Ocean on December 7, 1941. “Walt was out there somewhere, in the vast blue Pacific. He was part of the ocean now.” She also wants to meet his buddies and hear the story from them. “I feel like I’ll never be settled, never be able to move on, until I get over there and see for myself,” she tells her friend and colleague, Nora. Walt loved Isabel more than anyone else and the two of them were extremely close. It was Walt who helped her navigate their mother’s death, their father’s subsequent “unraveling,” and the lean years during which they struggled to survive and endured pounding dust storms on their Indiana farm before Isabel was fortunate enough to study math and physics at Goucher College. But her primary motivation for becoming a cryptanalyst was her desire for retribution for those responsible for the death of her big brother and dearest friend. She knows that her chances of being sent to Hawai’i are slim, but as the months wear on, Isabel’s work results in much-needed progress toward deciphering critical codes. Surprisingly, her work is acknowledged and rewarded with the chance to work within the Combat Intelligence Unit at Station Hypo.
But Isabel was diagnosed with a phobia — irrational fear or something real or perceived — so after she arrives in Honolulu and meets her new roommate, Gloria, she has to talk herself into navigating the stairs down to the claustrophobic, smoke-filled Dungeon. “She debated turning around at least eleven more times, but in the end, the pull of the Dungeon was stronger than her fear,” and the next chapter of her challenging career begins. She meets her male coworkers — linguists (who translate decoded messages), combat intelligence specialists, traffic analysts (who crack extraneous portions of messages such as origination points and recipients), and her fellow “crippies.” They are a decidedly eclectic group and the ensuing days are difficult. Each day she has to convince herself that she can traverse the stairs and walk through the steel door to her desk, endure hours in a room lacking natural light or ventilation and filled with her colleagues’ cigarette smoke, and immerse herself in the JN-24 code and frequently changing additive books. During her scarce free time, she studies Japanese in order to enhance her effectiveness.
On her first Sunday off, Isabel and Glora set out in search of Second Lieutenant Matteo Russi, Walt’s best friend and fellow pilot, who wrote to Isabel after Walt’s death. Walt told Isabel all about the P-40 pursuit pilot who flew higher and faster than any of the other pilots, hated having his picture taken, and wore a dog tag bearing his dog’s name during every flight. (Ackerma works at least one animal or reference to an animal into every one of her novels.) Russi is surprised to meet Isabel on O’ahu, but already knows a great deal about her because Walt talked to him about his sister all the time. The two decide that Russi will show Isabel all the beautiful places he went with Walt, who instantly fell in love with Hawai’i and planned to be a coffee farmer there after the war.
Russi is a handsome, charming, amateur photographer who only wants his camera focused on his subjects instead of himself who is resolved to not surviving the war. He has a reputation as a ladies’ man, but Isabel has no consternation about spending time with him because she has never been in love and is not interested in romance. She wants only to succeed as a cryptanalyst to contribute to a U.S. victory, thereby avenging Walt’s death, and hear all about Walt’s experiences and death. But tragedy strikes when Gloria embarks on a date with her boyfriend, Dickie, from which she never returns. She is presumed drowned and her body is not recovered. Isabel, who has struggled in her new assignment and is threatened with transfer back to the mainland if she fails to produce results soon, is devastated. “Hadn’t she already reached her quota of loss for a lifetime?” She is also highly suspicious about the circumstances leading up to and surrounding Gloria’s death, but lacks solid evidence to provide the police. Her feelings for Russi become more complicated with each passing day and she is sure that he is attracted to her, as well. Russi is not sure what Isabel’s role in the war effort is, but suspects that she is in possession of more information about the top-secret mission he has been called to undertake than she is permitted to share. Right before he leaves, he finally reveals the secret he has been keeping from Isabel, warning her to do herself a favor “and forget about me.”
A parallel narrative opens in July 1965 on the Big Island of Hawai’i. Luana Freitas is coming home in her capacity as a journalist embarking on her first big assignment for Sunset magazine. She will cover the gala opening of the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel. Ackerman wanted to write about the opening of the hotel, an event her grandparents attended, for some time before she landed on the idea for a mystery set there. Laurance Rockefeller (1910 – 2004) was a visionary dedicated to wilderness preservation and protection, and so committed to ecology that he was named America’s leading conservationist by Lady Bird Johnson. He built the hotel in an area that was considered a “wasteland,” according to Ackerman, where no one believed it possible to situate a resort. The golf course was built first, and Rockefeller enlisted nine different architectural firms to complete the hotel’s design. Hawai’ians were not happy about the hotel being erected, but Rockefeller also helped build the road, and hired a lot of women and, primarily, local residents to staff the first hotel built on the island and win over naysayers.
Lu arrives at the hotel hoping that her family will make the journey from Kona to visit with her there. Her father, who refused to help finance her college education, is too proud to admit that he was wrong to protest Lu’s move to the mainland to launch her career. Lu grew up on a macadamia nut farm managed by her father, while his girlfriend, Donna, who moved in with them after the sudden death of Lu’s mother, picked the nuts and cooked for the crew. But Lu struggled in school, and neither her father nor Donna was equipped to help her with her lessons. Her beloved Auntie H, a neighbor, intervened and tutored Lu. Now Lu is interacting with the dignitaries, politicians, and celebrities, including singer Joni Diaz, invited to the multi-day opening festivities. In the meantime, “fascinated by people and their motivations,” she searches for an angle for the stories she will write for the magazine that is more provocative than a description of the resort’s decor and scenery. She is quickly outgrowing her first job in journalism. “There were only so many backyard barbecues and wine tastings she could attend.”
Lu is intimidated to learn that among the guests personally invited by Rockefeller is Matteo Russi. “Legend. Icon. He had been working for Life magazine almost as long as she’s been alive. Maybe longer.” He has recently left Life to do freelance work and their introduction is less than pleasant, which leaves Lu dismayed because she has wanted to meet him for as long as she can remember. He is still strikingly handsome, but gruff, prickly and stand-offish. Their paths continue crossing, however, and he begins calling her “kid” and giving her advice. Lu catches glimpses into Russi’s past, which includes serving in the Army Air Corps during World War II and a mysteriously strong aversion to swimming in the ocean, but he divulges only vague snippets about himself. Even so, “it was plain to see that beneath the tough-guy facade lived a fear as wide a the ocean.”
One morning, Joni fails to meet Lu for their morning swim and a desperate search for her is commenced. Russi and Lu join forces to investigate her disappearance and, hopefully, find her alive. With Lu’s knowledge of the island and Russi’s experience as a photojournalist, they make a formidable team and get to know each other better as they work to solve an increasingly disturbing mystery. As they unravel the truth about Joni’s fate, startling discoveries move Russi closer to his admitted “unfinished business” and the regrets about his actions and choices with which he has been burdened for more than twenty years. Perhaps on the beautiful island of Hawai’i, he will find the answers he has sought and the peace for which he longs, as Lu establishes herself in the career for which she has prepared and reunites with her family, including the woman who made such a difference in her life, Auntie H.
Ackerman weaves the dual storylines, told via alternating chapters, into a cohesive, compelling story about survival, bravery, the lingering effects of war and grief, and second chances. Readers would never guess that Ackerman considers The Codebreaker’s Secret the book she found most difficult to pen to date becaue of its dual timelines. She shares that she wrote the entire 1943 storyline first, then compiled the story set in 1965 and, finally, wove the two together, making revisions as needed in order to meld them. The two stories advance and merge seamlessly, and the mysteries she incorporates are both engrossing and cleverly imagined.
Ackerman’s characters are fully developed and sympathetic. Isabel has sustained great losses in her life and is determined that the most painful, Walt’s tragic death, will not be in vain. She is focused, extremely bright and capable, and resilient, as evidenced by the scene in which she has to force herself to enter the Dungeon in order to carry on her work as a cryptanalyst in the very location to which she wanted so badly to be transferred. She quickly develops a genuine affection for and deep friendship with Gloria, and feels herself pulled to Russi, at first because he is her only remaining connection to Walt. But as they get to know each other, she recognizes in him characteristics that she finds irresistible. He claims to have an inexplicable death pact with God, and it is not until he is about to undertake a dangerous and secretive mission that Isabel finally understands what motivates him: honor, grief, and misplaced guilt. Lu is, as Isabel was two decades earlier, young, determined, and ambitious. She wanted to create a life for herself beyond the confines of Hawai’i, even though she loves her home and its people. The Russi she encounters has changed over the years because of his varied experiences in the military and as a photojournalist, but some aspects of his personality have not changed at all. He still has an inate integrity and curiosity, which has served him well in his profession, but Lu recognizes that he is haunted by personal demons. Because of her immense respect and growing affection for him she wants very much to help him. What she does not realize at the beginning of the story is that by helping Russi and working with him to resolve the mystery surrounding Joni’s disappearance, she will also discover her own path to a fulfilling future because “sometimes we have to leave a place before we understand how much it means to us.”
In The Codebreaker’s Secret, as with her other novels, Ackerman pays homage to her beautiful home, following the old adage that writers should write what they know. She employs her knowledge of the islands’ history and geography to craft evocative prose, transporting readers to both O’ahu and Hawai’i. Russi takes Isabel up steep, narrow roads to O’ahu’s Pali lookout, and they visit Goat Island. Ackerman is familiar with the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel and the area surrounding it, and her descriptions of the resort and its beaches are luscious and affectionately crafted. Readers who have never visited the Hawai’ian islands will understand why Ackerman’s characters fall in love with the fiftieth state and, like Walt, want to remain there.
Hawai’i is more than beautiful. It also has a rich history related to World War II, and not solely because it was the site of the attack that pulled the U.S. into World War II. Ackerman says she enjoys shining a light on little-known stories about the islands and their people, and seeks to write uplifting tales about love. Her stories often incorporate heartbreak, and The Codebreaker’s Secret is no exception, but her goal is to “bring inspiring stories to life.”
As to the smart, courageous, and devoted women codebreakers who played a vital role in the Allies’ victory, Ackerman says, “I hope I have done them justice.” She decidedly has. With her latest dazzling work of historical fiction, she has immortalized those women by bringing their never-before-told story to a new, deeply grateful audience.
Excerpt from The Codebreaker’s Secret
1
THE TIDES
The ocean is far more than water. She swells with the moon, and disappears on the darkest nights. You get to know her moods as you would an old friend, and you respect her movements, her ever-changing ways. Her tides move in and out, bringing coconuts, leaf fragments, dead crabs and old fishing floats onto her shore. There is always an early-morning anticipation of what she has coughed up in the night, and what she has stolen. Those in the know make it down before the rest of the world wakes, leaving only their footprints in the sand.
A lone figure walks on the beach in the dim light of dawn. The high tide line snakes along, marked by small shells and twigs. Father down, a log or a branch lies twisted and still, halfway up the beach. There is the faint smell of seaweed, pungent and salty. The figure moves leisurely but soon quickens their pace. The log is beginning to look less like a log and more like a body, appendages spreading out like seaweed. The figure stops, bends down as one would inspecting something unusual, something shocking.
If anyone knows death, it’s the sea.
2
THE CODEBREAKER
Washington, D.C., September 1942
There was perhaps no more tedious work in the world. Sitting at a desk all day staring at numbers or letters and looking for patterns. Taking notes and making charts. Thinking until your brain ached. For days and weeks and years on end. The extreme concentration drove some to the bottle, others to madness, and yet others to a quiet greatness that less than ten people in the world might ever know about. You might work for a year on cracking a particular code, only to have nothing to show for it but a tic in your eye and a boil on the back of your thigh. Failure was a given. Accept that and you’d won half the battle.
Isabel sat at her desk staring at a page full of rows and columns of five-letter groups that made no sense whatsoever on this side of the world. But on the other side, in Tokyo where the messages originated, she knew that Japanese officials were discussing war plans. War plans that were on this paper. As her eyes scanned the page, she felt the familiar scratching at the subconscious that meant she was close to seeing some kind of pattern. A prick of excitement traveled up her spine.
Suddenly, a hand waved up and down in front of her face, rudely pulling her out of her thoughts. “Isabel, you gotta put a lid on that noise. No one else can do their jobs,” said Lieutenant Rawlings, her new boss.
She forced a smile. “Sorry, sir, most of the time I’m not aware that I’m doing it. I’m—”
“That may be the case but try harder. I don’t want to lose you.”
Isabel had a tendency to hum during her moments of deepest focus, which had gotten her in trouble with her supervisors over the past year and a half while at Main Navy. In fact, she’d been transferred on more than one occasion due to the distracting nature of it. She’d worked hard to stop it, but when she went into that otherworldly state of mind, where everything slid away and the images moved around in her head of their own accord, the humming kicked back in. It would be like asking her not to breathe.
Lately, the whole team had reached a level of frustration that had turned the air in the room sour. Though they’d had success with the old Red machine, this complex supercipher seemed impossible to break. Faith was draining fast.
With her dress plastered to her back, and sucking on the second salt tablet of the day, Isabel put her head down, scribbling notes on her giant piece of paper. September in Washington burned hotter than a brick oven. Thoughts of her brother, Walt, kept interfering with her ability to stay on task. He would have turned twenty-five years old today. Would have been flying around somewhere in the Pacific about now, shooting down enemy planes, and hooting and hollering when he landed his plane full of bullet holes on the flattop. Walt loved nothing more than the thrill of the chase. Every time she thought of him, a lump formed in her throat and she had to fight back the tears. No one had ever, or ever would, love her more than Walt had.
More than anything, Isabel wanted to get to Hawai‘i and see the spot where his plane plunged into the ocean. To learn more about his final days and hear the story straight from the mouths of his buddies. As if that would somehow make her feel better. She rubbed her eyes. For now, she was stuck here in this hellhole of a building, either sweltering or shivering, depending on what time of year it was.
At 1130, her friend Nora waltzed in from a break, looking as though she’d swallowed the cat. Nora had a way of knowing things before everyone else, and Isabel was lucky enough to be stationed at the desk next to hers.
“Spill the beans, lady,” Isabel said quietly.
Nora glanced around the room, dramatically. “Later.”
Most of the team was still out to lunch, save for a couple of girls across the room, and Rawlings behind the glass in his office.
“No one’s even here, tell me now.”
Nora came over and sat on Isabel’s desk, legs crossed. She picked up a manila folder and began fanning herself, then leaned in. “I’ve heard from a very good source that the brass are tossing around names for the lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you look at it—crypto being sent to Pearl.”
Station Hypo at Pearl Harbor was one of the two main codebreaking units in the Pacific. Nora knew how badly Isabel wanted to be there.
Isabel perked up. “Whose names are being tossed?”
“That, I don’t know.”
“Should I remind Rawlings to remind Feinstein that I’m interested?”
“Absolutely not.”
“It couldn’t hurt, could it?” Isabel said.
“Sorry, love, but those men would just as soon send a polar bear to Hawai‘i as a woman,” Nora said.
“You seem to forget that one of the best codebreakers around is female. And the only reason most of our bosses know anything is because she taught them,” Isabel said, speaking softly. This was the kind of talk that could get you moved to the basement. And Isabel did not do well in basements.
“Neither of us is Agnes Driscoll, so just get it out of your head. And even Agnes is not in Hawai‘i,” Nora whispered.
“There has to be a way.”
“Maybe if you dug up a cache of Japanese codebooks. Or said yes to Captain Smythe,” Nora said with a wink.
Nora and Isabel were a study in opposites. Her short red bob had been curled under and sprayed into place, her lips painted fire-engine red. She had a new man on her arm every weekend and walked around in a cloud of French lilac perfume that permeated their entire floor.
“I have no interest in Captain Smythe,” Isabel said.
Hal Smythe was as dull as they came. At least as far as Isabel was concerned. Intelligent and handsome, but sorely lacking any charisma and the ability to make her laugh—one of her main prerequisites in a man. She had no time to waste on uninteresting men. Or men in general, for that matter. There were codes to be cracked and enemies to be defeated.
“Well, then, you’d better pull off something big,” Nora said.
3
THE CELLAR
Indiana, March 1925
Five-year-old Isabel Cooper had just discovered a fuzzy caterpillar in her backyard, and was bent over inspecting its black-and-yellow pattern when a wall of black blotted the sun from the sky. Always a perceptive child, she looked to the source of the darkness. Clouds had bunched and gathered on the far horizon, the color of gunmetal and cinder and ash. Wind swirled her hair in circles. Isabel ran inside as fast as her scrawny legs would carry her.
“Walter, come look! Something weird is happening to the sky,” she yelled, letting the screen door bang behind her.
Walter had just returned home from school, and was standing in the kitchen with two fistfuls of popcorn and more in his mouth. Mom had gone to the grocery store, and Pa worked late every day at the plant, so it was just the two of them home.
Walter wiped his hands on his worn overalls and followed his sister outside. From a young age, Isabel discovered that Walt, three years older, would do just about anything his younger sister asked. By all accounts he was not your average older brother. He never teased, included her on his ramblings in the woods and never shied to put an arm around her when she needed it. Outside, the wind had picked up considerably, bending the old red oak sideways.
Walt stumbled past her and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gaping. “Jiminy Christmas!”
Daytime had become night.
“What?” Isabel asked.
“Some kind of bad storm a-brewing. Where’s Lady?” Walt asked, looking around.
Their dog, Lady, had been lounging under the tree when Isabel ran inside, but was now nowhere to be seen. “I don’t know.”
“We better get into the shelter. I don’t like the looks of this.”
“I need Lady.”
The air had been as still as a morning lake, but suddenly a distant boom shook the sky. Moisture collected on their skin, dampening Isabel’s shirt.
“Lady!” they cried.
But Lady didn’t appear.
Walt held up his arm. “See this? My hair is standing up darn near straight. We gotta get under.”
Isabel looked at her arms, which felt tingly and strange. Instead of following her brother to the storm cellar, she ran to the other side of the house.
“Lady!” she yelled again, with a kind of wild desperation that tore at the inside of her throat.
A moment later, Walt scooped her up and tucked her under his arm. “Sorry, but we can’t wait anymore. She’ll have to fend for herself.”
Isabel kicked and punched at the air as they moved toward the cellar. “Put me down!”
Walt ignored her and kept running. His skin was sticky, his breath ragged. They had only used the cellar a couple times for storms, but on occasion Isabel helped her mother change out food supplies. The place gave her the creeps.
“What about Mom? We have to wait for her,” she said.
“Mom will know where to find us.”
In the distance, an eerie whistle rose from the earth. Seconds later, the wind picked up again, this time blowing the tree in the other direction. From the clouds, an ink black thing stuck out below. Walt yanked open the door, threw Isabel inside and fumbled around in the dark for a moment before finding the light. Roots crawled through cracks in the brick walls. They went down the steep stairs, Isabel’s face wet with tears and snot.
“Come, sit with me,” Walt said, pulling her against him on the old bench Pa had built.
Warmth flowed out of him like honey, and she instantly felt better. But then she thought about Lady and her mother, who were out there somewhere. Her whole body started shaking. Soon, a rumble sent vibrations through the wall and into Isabel’s teeth. Too scared to cry, she dug her fingers into Walt’s arm and hung on for dear life. Suddenly, a frantic scratching came from above.
Isabel jumped up, but Walt stopped her. “You stay down here.”
Walt climbed to the top and opened the door. The wind took it and slammed it down hard. A loud barking ensued, and Walt fought with the door again, finally managing to get it open and bring Lady inside. The air possessed a ferocity Isabel had never seen before.
Lady immediately ran down the steps and started licking Isabel’s arms and legs, and spinning in circles at her feet. Isabel hugged the big dog with all her might, burying her face in Lady’s long golden fur. When Walt came back down, the three of them huddled together as a roar louder than a barreling freight train filled their ears. Soon, Lady began panting.
Walt squeezed Isabel’s hand. “It’s okay, we’re safe down here.”
He had to yell to be heard. And then the light went out. Darkness filled every crack and crevice. The earth groaned. The door above rattled so fiercely that she was sure it would fly off at any moment. All Isabel could think about was her mother out there somewhere in this tempest. Soon, her lungs were having a hard time taking air in.
“I can’t breathe,” she finally said.
“It’s just nerves. They act up in times like these.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I had it happen before.”
She took his word for it, because it was hard to talk above the noise of the storm, and because Walt always knew what he was talking about. Then, directly overhead, they heard a sky-splitting crack and a thundering boom. The cellar door sounded ready to cave. Isabel and Walt and Lady moved to the crawl space under the steps. The three of them barely fit, even with Lady in her lap. Lady kissed the tears from Isabel’s face.
Finally, the noise began to recede. When there was no longer any storm sounds, Walt went up the steps with Isabel close behind. He pushed but nothing happened. Pushed again. Still nothing.
“Something must have fallen on it,” he said.
“I have to pee.”
“You’re going to have to wait.”
“I can’t wait.”
Walt banged away on the door with no luck. “Then I guess you have to go in your pants. Sorry, sis.”
Isabel began to grow sure that this was where they would live out the rest of their short lives. That no one had survived the apocalypse outside and they would be left to rot with the earthworms, roots growing through their bodies until they’d been reduced to dirt. Her whole body trembled as Walt spoke consoling words and rubbed her back.
“They’ll find us soon, don’t you fret.”
Lady licked her hand, but Isabel was beyond words, shivering and gulping for air. Every now and then Walt went up to try to push the doors again, but each time, nothing happened. She vowed to herself that she would never, ever be trapped underground again. She’d take her chances with a twister over being entombed any day.
It was more than an hour before someone came to get them. An hour of dark thoughts and silence. In the distance they heard voices, and eventually a pounding on the cellar door. “Are you three in there? It’s Pa,” said a voice.
“Pa!” they both cried.
“We got a big tree down on the door up here. Hang tight, I’ll get you out soon.”
When the doors finally opened, a blinding light shone in. Pa reached his hand in and pulled them out, wrapping them in the biggest hug they’d ever had. Never mind that the old truck was upside down and one side of the house missing.
“Where’s your mother?” Pa said.
“She went to the store,” Walt said.
Pa’s face dropped clear to the ground. “Which store did she say she was goin’ to?”
“She didn’t say, but she left just as soon as I got home from school,” Walt said.
Only half listening, Isabel spun around in disbelief at the chaos of branches and splintered wood and car parts and things that didn’t belong in the yard. Sink. Baby carriage. Bookshelf. It appeared as though the edge of the tornado had gone right over their place, leaving half the house intact, and obliterating the rest.
“Son, stay here with your sister. And stay out of the house until I get back. It might be unstable,” Pa said, running off to his car.
“Mom will be okay, won’t she? The store is safe, isn’t it?” Isabel asked.
“Sure she will. Pa will be back with her soon,” Walt said.
They wandered around the yard, dazed. This far out on the country road, the nearest neighbor, old Mr. Owens, was a mile away. Drained, Isabel sat down and pulled Lady in for a hug. Pa didn’t return for a long time, and when he did, they could tell right away that something was wrong. His eyes were rimmed in red, like he had been crying. And Pa never cried.
“Kids, your mom isn’t coming back.”
That was the first time Isabel Cooper lost the most important person in her life.
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