June 2, 1944
My dearest Leora,
I received a letter from you today! I held it up to my nose, and I swear I could smell the scent of your skin. I read your words over and over again last night. I tucked it under my pillow, a comfort as I slept, and I have folded it carefully to keep with me at all times. You’re a good-luck charm, and I’ll tell you why.
You are now reading a letter from a promoted corporal. It’s true! One of the corporals fell ill, and the lieutenant saw that I am a quick learner and I’ve been helping other soldiers. This is just the first step for us, sinta ko. Ignacio (you remember my mentioning him—he had the bunk below me on the ship) jokes that I will be a sergeant major when I return. I pretend to laugh about it, but what if it could be true? Can you imagine me with a sergeant major’s rank? That would really be something.
How is everything at home? Your letter mentioned the unrest among the farmers. Some of the soldiers have received similar letters. There is talk of future protests.
We’ve talked about my feelings on the matter, and you and I agree workers have a right to demand better pay, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t worry about you. I want to protect you. I know you don’t like me saying so. You have the strength of a soldier, but with us apart and unmarried, I just pray you stay safe.
I hate to ask anything of you, but will you speak to my father? Will you remind him that I will return? He has not written me back, not even at Camp Beale, where mail came in regularly. He is upset, I know. While he gave his blessing, he wished for me to stay, to fight the fight there, for equality, for rights.
If you can, please remind him that I love him. He has to understand that I am doing this for him and for our cause. For the home of our birth and for the home of our adulthood. It’s twofold, you see. I believe that. Going back to the past, to the homeland, even if I don’t remember it well, will make me a better person, a better man. I will return to you with a stature no one can deny, and I will be worthy of you.
I must go. Tonight I will dream of you.
As always, iniibig kita,
Antonio
Chapter Ten
Margo milled around Diana’s office doorway. She was technically packing and had a small stack of shirts in her arms fresh from the laundry to place in her suitcase, but when she heard her daughter click on the mouse, her curiosity distracted her from the task at hand.
Diana had been on the computer on and off for the last couple of days, sleuthing. She’d received a list of social media profiles from the investigator’s report that might belong to the family members of Flora Reyes Cruz, and true to her stubborn nature, she was going through the list one by one.
“Ma, I can hear you and your fuzzy slippers back there. Your hair must be standing on end from static,” Diana said, not turning.
How her daughter could tease her at a time like this, Margo couldn’t understand. Margo had been on edge since Diana’s declaration that she would be leaving for the Philippines, with or without her. Now, none of Margo’s plans were on her mind. Instead, she was worried about her daughter’s itinerary, the speed with which she’d bought her ticket, and her spreadsheet of places to visit despite not having a contact in Manila besides her travel agent.
That is, unless her current efforts turned up a contact for a Cruz family relative.
Which would make that relative Margo’s relative, too.
Margo’s heart rate doubled.
Oh God, Margo could have relatives.
And Flora Reyes was alive.
Alive.
Margo shook her head as an avalanche of thoughts cascaded around her. Flora Reyes might be the woman who had seen her father last. This might be the woman who had been married to her father. The woman who had kept her father from her. And her daughter was going to confront her.
“Can you?” Margo said now, curiosity peeking around a corner of her mind. “Can you reread the PI’s letter?”
Diana turned, the note in her hand. “Sure. ‘Enclosed are the following items that connect Flora Reyes to Antonio Cruz: a marriage certificate to Flora Reyes, a newspaper clipping connecting the couple with a mention of their family members, and possible Facebook profiles of their granddaughter, their next of kin. Enclosed is a potential business address in the name of the family. While a trusted partner in the Philippines has provided this information, I suggest making contact and conducting a DNA test for proof of relationship. As discussed, I will wait for further instructions on how to proceed.’ ”
“So he’s not really sure, then?” Margo said, with a spark of hope in her chest. Her life would go back to the way it was if this all weren’t true.
“Ma.” Diana looked up. “This is them. I can feel it.”
“But we aren’t sure,” she said, forcefully now. “Because if this is true … if these people are …”
Diana stood, guiding Margo into the chair while taking the clothes from her arms, and turned her so she faced the table of pictures. The ribbon cutting photo, the photo of Antonio and Flora, a close-up graduation photo of Flora, and of a third woman Diana’s age, with a bright smile and Diana’s eyes. The first time Margo looked at these pictures, she’d casually flipped through them, but now, she examined them intently.
“It’s not too late, Ma. You can change your ticket.”
“No.” Though Margo wouldn’t be able to put this out of her mind forever, she couldn’t back out on her friends. And she refused to subject herself to this … this alternate reality. She’d lived her life in the moment, and that was what she was going to continue to do, not grasp at this potential scam. She turned to her daughter. “Diana, what if … what if this is all a lie? A lie made up by your private investigator, and no one’s waiting for you on the other side. What if it’s a … what do you call it? A catfish?”
She smiled. “I thought of that. I didn’t tell the PI that I was going to the Philippines. And, I could say the same of you: you might be on a wild-goose chase with your wayward friends. It’s the same kind of risk, isn’t it? We’re going to places we’ve never been before.” Under her breath she said, “Though I still think you should come with me.”
“Hello?” A low voice echoed from the hallway. “Dr. Cary? Mrs. Cary?” Lenny, their contractor, materialized in the doorway holding a rusty pipe. His presence no longer surprised Margo. Despite his weathered appearance, he was the epitome of honest and jolly, not to mention another person to chat with during the day while Diana worked.
“That’s not a good sign,” Margo said.
“Not horrible, but not good, either.” He grinned, accentuating the folds on his dusty face. He lifted up the pipe. “We found this behind the wall in your master bathroom. It’s looking bad, and I suggest we replace it.”
Diana sighed. “Well, we don’t have a choice, do we? Can you text me a quote?”
“Will do. Expect it in a bit. Sorry. It’s these—”
“I know … old houses.”
“Right.” He nodded and turned out of their sight.
As his footsteps quieted, Margo was struck with another thought. “Diana, isn’t this too much? The time off, the private investigator, this trip? You have student loans, your mortgage to think of, and now the pipes need replacing.”