Angel of Okinawa; Chapter 8

 

Angel of Okinawa; Chapter 8

© 2024 by Amber Wright

I began my heroic deed by penning my two milk goats with our one and only goat. Rosy took to the new milk goats with friendly goatliness and bleated a hello, chewing on her grass.

I took a deep breath and fiddled with the rope, watching the three goats become friends.

Derek stood beside me, swinging his rope as well. I guess we were two pretty fidgety people, I realized. Too much alike.

“Well, I name you Posy,” I pointed to the right goat nosing around the pen with a flower in its mouth. “And you,” I told the goat standing there staring like a blank wall, “Dozy.”

“Nice names.” Derek gave his rope a ferocious swing before handing it over to me.

It took me a few seconds to comprehend. My head was still floating in the clouds.

“The rope, ma'am!” Derek had the biggest grin on his tanned face. “I name you Dozy Rosy Posy.”

“Why?” I sent him a glare, rolling my eyes.

Derek shrugged, “Or I'll call you my Very Airy Fairy.”

I wrinkled up my brow, confused.

“You keep me spellbound every time I’m near you!” Derek gave my ponytail another yank.

“Won't have any hair left at this rate!” I gave him another glare.

Derek threw back his head and laughed. “Just trying to change the subject, aren't you? You know you're really secretly in love with me!”

“I’ve got breakfast to do,” I hurried away to the house, feeling my face flame hotly.

The morning air was thickening which said that the day was already getting warmer.

More humid and hot.

^{· · ·}

Things weren’t happening the normal way, I thought, as I helped with breakfast.

Later, I’d show them all the big surprise. But for now I was thinking big thoughts.

Here my invader was acting like the cutest jerk I had ever met and weren't we supposed to be enemies?

True, I loved him like a Christian ought to (and maybe more if I did let my pride go and admit to it), but wasn’t that invader here to kill my native Okinawans?

I felt my pride wringing up inside me.

I didn’t like the idea of outsiders messing up our well kept yard either. They carried backyard war germs.

Once the Japs found out where they were, they’d be coming to shoot.

And, visa versa.

If any Japs were in the area—out would shoot the Americans.

Brother, why can’t life be normal? Why can't houses be without war near them, and war be without houses near it?

But no.

War was war.

There was no telling what would happen. I just had to keep on praying.

^{· · ·}

Everyone took a liking to the big surprise, once Meema realized that I was really going to feed and milk them myself.

I’m afraid I have grumbled too much in the past about taking care of poor old Rosy!

Oh well. We all can make some mistakes in life else we wouldn’t be human.

“The idea of you spending your book money on more goats, Angel!” Lei was talking with an excited voice, and I could tell she was getting the hang of the idea of more milk and butter. “Can I help you with them, please?”

“I’ll even let you milk them, if you want to.” I grinned at her and playfully rolled my eyes.

Lei talked even more excitedly. “Ooh, can I!”

“Quite welcome to it, too! And you’ll see what tough work that goes with it. But,” I looked down at my two very own goats, “the extra milk will pay off. You’ll see.”

“Can I pet them?” Dai tried tip toeing on her little feet to reach over the bamboo fence so I reached down to pick her up.

“Pet their foreheads, Dai,” I told her as she poked her hand out and kept springing it back. “They won’t hurt you.”

“What if they bite my fingers off and Meema will have to sew them back on?” Dai asked in a little voice, fretfully.

“No fear, sis.” I set her down and reached my hand out. “Watch this.”

I started to stroke Posy’s forehead but found her tongue slashing against my hand. I jumped back with a little squeal, startled and suddenly very grossed out.

Animal slobbers on your hand feels dreadful.

“No fear, Sis, watch this.” Dai grinned up at me with her little 3 year-old teeth showing.

I shrugged, wiping my hand off on my dress. “I guess I’m not so brave either.”

The girls and Meema laughed, and I felt no older than 3 year-old Dai.