Tides of Honour (26 page)

Pascale would be proud. Audrey had done what she'd had to do to survive. She'd survived the war, the munitions factory, Danny's violence, the explosion, and now she would survive Pierre. She had to.

Over time she came to realize Pierre Antoine was a selfish man, one with a cold heart and little time or regard for others' feelings. She didn't think he'd always been that way, but it could have been that she'd just chosen not to see it. At first she'd only seen him as a kind, interested man, one always curious about her painting, her life. He'd seemed enthusiastic and genuine about helping her and Danny, insisting on sending home clothes his family no longer needed, food they didn't eat—though there had never been any chance that Danny would accept those gifts. He'd paid attention to her as a woman, eventually threw her the party, bought her pretty things. Most importantly, he had believed in her as an artist—or so she thought. As Danny had drawn farther away from her, Antoine had welcomed her, given her hope and opportunities.

It had been apparent from the first time they'd met that he was a hard man when it came to business, and he hardened further after the explosion. He'd barely taken time to grieve his own family before launching right back into work. In fact, he was busier now than he had been before, as far as she could tell.

Tonight changed everything. Now she knew this man before her was much worse than she'd thought. All the time he'd been showing her off, puffing up with pride around her, making her believe he was rescuing her from a terrible, lonely life, he'd been lying.

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked softly.

His face darkened and the lips beneath the black moustache tightened. He didn't speak.

“You lied to me, Pierre. He . . . he wasn't dead.”

How could this be happening? How could she have trusted him with the most important thing in her life? He'd said Danny was dead, and she'd swallowed the lie. She'd never even checked the lists, not wanting to see the truth of those words. Rage built
in her chest and rose up her throat, though she knew it came from anger at herself as much as blame for him.

“My . . . my
husband
, Pierre! My husband has been alive and searching for me all this time, and you told me he was dead! You told him
I
was dead! You watched me grieve for him. How . . . how could you do something like that?”

Pierre scowled at her, then glared furiously at the dwindling onlookers. They caught his warning and shuffled away, but Audrey saw their curious backward glances.
Let them look. Let them know what kind of man he is!

He put a hand under her elbow again, tried to lead her away, but Audrey's feet were planted. Seeing the look in her eye, he adjusted, grabbing her arm tighter and yanking her in the direction he wanted to go. She tried to pry his fingers from her arm as she stumbled down the street beside him, but his grip was like a vise. There would be bruises. When Pierre deemed they were far enough away, he pulled her again so that she whirled around to face him.

“I saved you,” he said through his teeth. He shook her with every one of his statements, and her curls bounced. “I rescued you from a terrible life. A waste of a life.”

“It was
my
life. Not yours,” she hissed.

He shook his head, his eyes cold. The fingers tightened, and she lifted her chin, determined not to cry. “No, not exactly. Not anymore. I sheltered you. I fed and clothed you. I introduced you to Halifax and made you famous among the well-to-do.” He nodded, his expression changing into a satisfied smugness. “You owe me.”

The truth behind his words was unavoidable, but she turned her face away, trying to escape it. She'd known all along that he was using her, but she'd tried to ignore it. In her hopelessness, in her weak, frail attempt to move on without Danny, she'd let herself be sold into becoming a piece of his property. She'd thought she needed him. Thought she was safe and content in his home,
surrounded by the best life had to offer. But she'd also thought she was a widow. Then she remembered all those long nights in bed, the quick, often rough way he had of using her body, and she met his eyes.

“I owe you nothing,” she said, her voice low. “I gave you more than enough.”

He sighed and lifted one corner of his mouth. He was trying to placate her, she could see. Trying to ease this new situation. He wasn't familiar with confrontation. No one argued with Pierre Antoine and got away with it.

“Come now,
ma petite,
” he said gently, releasing her arm. He dropped his hand to his side and rubbed his fingers against his thumb as if he felt something sticky. “You must understand. What I did was for the best. You came to me as little more than a gutter rat, and now you are a swan. Would you throw it all away?”

“Yes.”

“You would go back to a man who beat you? Who drove you into the street?”

Another truth, and one just as difficult to acknowledge. She fought the turmoil building inside. This was no time for emotions.

“Yes.”

He blinked quickly, his smile tightening. “You have a lot to think about. Come back to the soiree now. Have some wine and some food, and let all this settle in your mind. I cannot see a woman as intelligent as you simply walking away without going through all the options.” His eyes went to the street, in the direction Danny had taken. “Then again,” he said with a shrug, “maybe you have nothing to think about. Your dear, devoted husband appears to have left you here with me. Maybe he no longer wants you after all.”

And that was exactly what she feared most.

Danny Baker

1918

THIRTY
-
SEVEN

The next morning was like
any other over the past few months, except it wasn't. Danny woke up, pulled his coveralls over a faded blue shirt, and tugged his grey slouch hat over his hair. He needed a haircut. The brown curls that flicked from under his hat were getting unruly. He poured himself a cup of tea and lit a cigarette, then headed out to the latest site, falling into a rhythm alongside the others, measuring, cutting, hammering, measuring, cutting, hammering.

With every cut of the saw, every pounded nail, Danny thought of Audrey. Saw her there, small and shocked within the shelter of Antoine's arm. She had looked so pretty. So comfortable in the rich materials she wore, with that sizable gem hanging from her neck, surrounded by the cream of society.

The women who emerged from their shiny automobiles in the mornings, bringing food for the orphanage and eventually for the workers, they would know Audrey.

The businessmen who came with contracts and fat cigars, they would know her.

Danny wondered if he still did.

On the other hand, he was fairly sure the children didn't.
Danny was somewhat of a hero in the orphanage these days. He brought as many treats as he could afford for the children, then sat and played cards or tiddlywinks with the older ones. With the younger ones he raced hand-carved toy horses around chairs and tables. Anything to entertain them and lighten the monotony of his days. It was impossible to be bored in a roomful of children. These little souls had lost everything. They had no families, no homes, no concept of a future, and yet they laughed and played together. They moved past their injuries, got used to each other's scars, found a way to get along. In their eyes, no one was better or worse than any other.

Mick came by the construction site later that morning. He tugged Danny out back and produced a bottle of ale for each of them. They hadn't spoken the night before, after Danny's hasty departure from the protest. Danny had gone home, gone to bed, then pretended not to hear Mick's noisy entrance a couple of hours later. But he couldn't avoid the questions forever, and questions there would be. Mick was king of those. If only Danny were half so good at answers.

“You gonna explain last night?” Mick asked as they leaned back against a new wall.

“Why?”

Mick barked out a laugh, then coughed. “Okay. Right you are. None of my business. It's just I turned around and all of a sudden my buddy's gone and there's a well-dressed lynch mob on his tail. Come on. A fella's got a right to be curious, don't he?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny said, giving him a tired smile. “I guess you do.” He took a long swallow from the bottle. “Thanks for this. It's thirsty work.” Danny stared at his palms, then concentrated on picking a sliver from the tip of one thumb. “Saw Audrey last night.”

Mick choked on his beer. “Audrey? Your wife Audrey?”

“One and the same,” Danny said. “Seems she's alive after all.”

“Okay,” Mick said slowly, nodding with an exaggerated movement. “So why didn't I see her in our apartment when I got home?”

“She had a better offer.”

Danny didn't bother keeping anything from Mick. He figured the newspaperman would figure out the answers anyway. So he explained everything, including the wreck he'd made of his marriage, and his question of why on earth Audrey might ever want to come back to him.

Mick listened in silence, which was strange because Danny was used to Mick's endless peppering of questions. At the end of Danny's story, Mick was still quiet. He sipped from his beer, and for a few minutes all they heard was the monotonous rhythm of saws and hammers.

“Antoine's not a great choice,” Mick finally said. “From what I've been hearing, the man's not exactly clean, if you catch my meaning.”

“No? Not a model citizen?” Danny's voice twisted with sarcasm.

“Word is he ain't averse to getting his pretty hands dirty.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want to think about his hands right now, Mick, thanks all the same. They were taking good care of my wife last time I saw them. Aw, hell. I don't know what to do. If I were a good man, I'd just leave her with him. Let her live the good life. Let her forget about the mistake she made marrying me.”

“What a bunch of hogwash,” Mick said, shaking his head. “I gotta say I'm surprised. I never would have taken you for that kind of fella, Danny.”

“What kind is that?”

“You know. The fella who's always going on about how everybody else is better than him. That kind of fella. Sure, I know the
war took a lot outta you. It took a lot out of most of us, and you got hit hard because of your leg and your buddies. I know all that. I know it's been hard, finding what you're good at, and I figure you're still finding it. But look at what you're doing now. Half these homes have your handiwork nailed into them. You've helped kids no one else had the time for. You're always the guy people go to. Someone needs something? I tell 'em, ‘Go to Danny.' ”

Danny snorted, then finished his beer. “Yep, that's me. At least I'm good for something.” He stood, ready to go back to work. “She's better off without me. Anyhow, that's why I took off on you last night. Sorry about that. And thanks for the beer.”

Mick glared at him with such disgust, Danny felt the sting of Mick's words before they hit the air.

“You leave her with Antoine, you're not half the man I thought you were. And you know what? You can get your own damn beer next time.”

“Yeah, well maybe I deserve that, and maybe I don't,” Danny said, starting to bristle. “I don't need your opinion on my character, thanks. Why don't you go stir up some trouble? When you're ready, come get me and I'll be your tough guy. In the meantime, don't you worry about me.”

Mick tossed a look of disappointment over his shoulder as he walked away, and Danny tried to ignore it. He didn't need to see it. Truth was, he was disappointed enough for both of them.

Danny resumed his place, nailing up a wall alongside a crew of equally silent men. What was it, he asked himself, that had made Audrey love him in the first place? Why would the girl have left everything to come to him? Well, sure. They'd started with physical attraction. He could still recall the quick look in her eyes when they'd spotted each other by the broken-down wagon. Then the letters—all those words back and forth between them, all the things he'd never say to anyone else. And she'd actually been
interested in what he was talking about. That was one thing he'd always found amazing. And when she'd seen the mess of his body, she'd still loved him. Every time she touched him, he thought he might burst into flame.

So when had it gone wrong? Danny knew why, just not when. He'd felt self-hatred building from the moment he'd woken up in the hospital missing a leg. The cloud had grown heavier every day, blocking any possibility of sun. But Audrey'd stuck with him, even when he snapped at her. She'd come willingly enough when he picked up their lives and moved them to the city. Then again, he could lie to himself and say that had been partially for her benefit. Her art was so good, he reckoned she'd outgrown East Jeddore and all those little places. But she'd never been truly content in Halifax. He guessed maybe it was because they'd gone there together but ended up spending so much time apart.

Poor Audrey. Followed her heart and it had led to a dead end. Looked like she'd found an escape route, though.

So now what? He figured what he really needed to do was answer the same questions he'd just thrown at Mick. Which was the better idea: go after Audrey and bring her back, or leave her in the rich comfort of Antoine's care? If only they'd had more time the night before. If only he could have spent more time reading her eyes before Antoine appeared like a knight in shining armour.

Damn!
Danny stuck his thumb into his mouth and sucked on the spot he'd just hammered. He had to stop thinking like this. It wasn't helping any.

THIRTY
-
EIGHT

For the next week, days
came and went, one house rose beside another, and Danny tried every day to move on and forget Audrey. But how could he, when she was part of every breath?

Then one afternoon she was there. Danny was up high, working on the rafters of one of the new houses. He had taken a break to catch his breath, wiped his brow with the back of one hand, and peered down at the site's visitors. Planners and reporters came every few days, watching the progress and taking pictures for posterity. Women didn't come as often. They needed special clearance in order to get into the construction area, and one needed influence to get clearance.

Audrey climbed out of a big black car in the company of three or four similarly pastel-clad women. They wore large hats that were the style of the day, and Audrey's brown curls were tucked underneath her wide brim. She didn't see Danny, so he took the luxury of staring.

She was the smallest, and she stood back a bit from the main group of women. They pointed and nodded, discussing something inconsequential to Danny. One of the women touched Audrey's arm and she smiled and nodded agreeably, then turned away again.

Danny knew what she was seeing, even if no one else did. She was noticing the shapes and expressions of the buildings, the lines and colours. Like the trees and grasses along the Eastern Shore that had always captivated her. Audrey found beauty in everything around her—including him, he thought bitterly. After today she would go back to wherever she was living and recreate this scene, infuse the brush strokes with her emotions. She'd see the neat row of houses, their cottage-style yards and fences, the individual designs they'd given each home. She'd notice the men working, backs to her, concentrating on their work. Would she see him? Would he appear in her art again?

It became a game. He stared at her, noticing every gesture and expression, and willed her to look at him.
If you look up and see me, it means you still love me. It means you want me to bring you home.
It was a terrible game to play. If she never looked up, then—

She glanced sharply to the side and up, locking eyes with Danny's.

He stared back, wondering what he should do. If he truly wanted her to live a comfortable life, he should tap the brim of his slouch hat in greeting, then turn back to his work. But he was terrified of doing that. She'd never come after him. She'd be afraid of his temper. And this might be his last chance.
Love me, Audrey,
he thought.
Please love me.

Her lips moved, and he saw his name. She was thirty feet away when he saw the first teardrop trickle down her cheek.

What did she see? The cruel man who had broken her heart? Or did she see a man changed, which Danny certainly was. He rarely drank anymore, and never to excess. His insecurities—or most of them at least—had burned to ash inside one of the Richmond houses, just after he'd rescued a little girl from the flames. He had found the three little boys in the collapsed basement, trapped with their dead mother. Every spare moment he'd spent
with them, trying to make their lives—and his—a little more bearable. He'd gone to Mick and they'd run that national campaign trying to find homes for all the orphans. It had been his idea, his desire to help that had made it work.

The truth was, he had done well—and he had done good.

But Audrey couldn't possibly know all that about him. Antoine hadn't even told her Danny was alive.

Suddenly it seemed Danny's entire life depended on getting to her, telling her how wrong he'd been, how much he needed her. He reached for the ladder and threw himself onto the rung, his peg leg knocking like an out-of-control clock as he made his way down. He turned to run toward her, and she met him halfway as she always had.

Neither of them spoke. It was enough to take in each other's presence in the daylight. So much had changed. In the sun, the darker shade of pink at the side of her face was more obvious, a scar she would bear forever, though the wide-brimmed hat shadowed her disfigurement.

“Audrey,” he said. “I've missed you.”

She sniffed hard, then hid her mouth behind a delicate hand. Her fingertips were dark, stained by oil paints. He liked that she wasn't wearing gloves. She nodded, unable to speak. He stepped closer but was afraid to touch her.

“Can we talk, Audrey? Can I tell you—”

Her chin quivered, lips pressed tight together for control. Her eyes pleaded, and he hoped he read them right.

“I've changed,” he blurted. “And I'm sorry. So, so sorry.”

He took another step and dared himself to reach for her hands, now tucked under her arms. She took a deep breath that hitched a couple of times, then lowered trembling fingers onto his palms. He curled his hands around hers, wondering which of them was more nervous.

“Audrey, I need to tell you that I think I understand your life. You look beautiful and healthy, and, well, except for right now, you look happy. I wouldn't blame you at all if you decided to stay with him, to live a good life.” She shook her head, but he stopped her. “If you stay with him, you can have whatever you want.” Her cheeks blushed a little, and he hated that. It bolstered him for the next bit, though. “If you come back to me, Audrey, if you come back, I can't offer anything he can. But . . . but I can tell you no one will ever love you like I do. No one.”

He became aware that he was squeezing her fingers hard, and he relaxed his grip.

“Danny—”

“Wait, Audrey. I gotta tell you. You'll understand, I think, you with your paints. I'm not saying this for pity, because you know how much I hate that.” They exchanged a cautious smile. “I just need you to know that my life without you is blacks and greys. You took all the colour when you left. And when I thought you were dead, well, I couldn't see much that would make me want to go on. Then I saw you that night, and ever since then I can't think straight.”

“Oh, Danny,” she said quietly. “I am sorry for all your pain. But I've been hurting too, you know. For a long time. I have always loved you, and you have always hated yourself. I did what I could, but it was too hard. All you did was hurt yourself and push me away. I can't live that way any longer.”

“But you wouldn't have to,” he said. “I've changed.”

She looked him up and down. “You look well,” she admitted. “Still living rough?”

He grinned. “Rough, but healthy. And rough for a reason. I work hard, Audrey. I work and I make money, and I do what I can to help.”

She wasn't going to make it easy for him, he could see. She gave him a skeptical scowl, but her lips were soft. “And when work
is done at the end of the day? What then? The other men come over and drink away your money? You go out to visit the ladies in the taverns and get home in time to go to work? What kind of life is that? Yes, I've lived well these past few months, just like you say. I've lived with people who like to talk about art and music, not just pretty girls, or which man is the strongest. These people like me. They value what I do. They make me feel . . . special.”

He was losing. He could feel it in the urgency of her words.
No, no, no.
She couldn't leave him again.

She swallowed hard, and her eyes bored into his. “You and I, we aren't the same people we were, Danny. Neither of us. I'm not the same innocent young farm girl you married.”

“You are, Audrey. You're good and sweet and full of life. You're everything. Don't push me away.”

Her eyes darted to the side, and she bit her lower lip. “I . . .”

“What? What has you . . . Oh. Antoine.” She nodded, and he swallowed his pride. “Does he love you, Audrey?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Would he die for you? Because I would. I would give everything I had if I knew I could have you with me.” He tucked one finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Look at me, Audrey. Tell me you love him and I'll walk away. I'll never bother you again. I'll leave the city and disappear. Tell me that.”

Tears spilled over her cheeks again, but she didn't hesitate. “I have only ever loved you, Danny.”

A woman approached from behind. Danny saw her come closer, observing him with wary eyes. “Are you all right, Audrey?” she asked.

Audrey dropped his hand and whirled toward the woman. “Hello, Catherine. Yes. I'm fine.”

Catherine squeezed her lips into a tight little circle of distaste. “He's not bothering you, is he? I've seen him, you know. He's one of those protester types.”

Danny snorted and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, ma'am. The name's Danny. Danny Baker.”

“Catherine, I'd like you to meet my husband,” Audrey said quietly.

Catherine took a step back, ignoring his offering. “Really? Well. Isn't that something. I thought Pierre said your husband was dead.”

“He did,” Audrey said, looking at the ground.

“Apparently he was mistaken,” Danny said. “I'm well enough.”

“So I see,” Catherine said, pointedly looking at his peg. “And you've come for your wife? Take her back to . . . wherever you come from? Maybe she can carry one of those signs you folks are so good at carrying.”

“Actually, I'm working here. And if she comes back with me, it's up to her.”

Catherine laughed. A short, derisive sound that raised Danny's hackles. She wiggled her well-shaped eyebrows. “I have a feeling Audrey won't be leaving Pierre any time soon.”

Audrey gasped. “Catherine!”

“What?” Catherine asked, feigning innocence. “He is your husband. He should be told.”

Danny became aware of a definite shift in the air. “I should be told what?”

“You may leave now, Catherine,” Audrey said coolly. “You've done enough.”

The woman gave Danny a smooth smile, then waltzed back toward the other women, all of whom watched with owl-like expressions from a few feet away.

“I can't come with you, Danny,” Audrey said.

“Why not?”

She took another long breath and blew it out between her lips. He felt it tickle his cheek and couldn't help inhaling.

“Because I'm pregnant with Antoine's baby,” she declared, lifting her chin. “And I'm sure you don't want to spend your life with a woman who fell into bed with another man as soon as she thought her husband was dead. Especially one who is pregnant.”

Danny felt dizzy. “You're going to have a baby?”

“I am.”

“And you . . . You won't come back to me because you think I wouldn't want you like that?”

“That's . . . part of it, yes.”

Danny tapped the bottom of his peg leg against the ground, trying to think. He fought back the mental image of Antoine on top of Audrey, his black beard scratching the gentle slope of her belly, his thick hands pawing her body. The pain of her betrayal was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Closing over him, suffocating him, leaving him dizzy. But if he wanted her back—and
oh,
how he wanted her back—he'd have to say just the right thing. Now it was she whose pride hung in the air, and he knew first-hand how heavy that burden was.

“You thought I was dead,” he reasoned.

“I did.” Her voice was tiny but brave. Her eyes, though, they were so full of regret he couldn't stand it. “And I did—” A little sob cut through the words. “I did what I had to do.”

He swallowed, battling the ache in his throat. He would
not
cry.
Stand up for this woman for once in your life,
he thought.
Be the man she needs you to be.

“I could hardly expect you to stop your life. You're beautiful. Any man would want you,” he managed. “I've always thought it was too good to be true, that you loved me.”

“But I did,” she said, confused.

“Yeah. That always amazed me. But the thing is, Audrey, I still do. I want you back, and if it means Antoine's baby comes with you, I'd welcome the little tyke and love it like my own.”

“No, you wouldn't,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowed. “You'd always think of Pierre when you saw the baby.”

Danny blinked hard. “I can't say I'm not jealous. I'll never be able to say I'm okay with the thought of you with another man. That'd be a lie. But I do understand. Things happen. And now you're pregnant. You and I, we were never able to get you pregnant, and I know how bad you wanted to have a kid. You may have trouble believing this, but if I get to be the one to see this baby grow in you, to watch you become a mother, well, yeah. I'd love the baby. Because it would be half you.”

“But what would your family say?”

He mustn't get too excited, but it was difficult to keep hope from lighting his eyes. If she could even think about his family, maybe she'd think about coming back. “They'd be overjoyed to see you,” he assured her with a casual shrug. “They all think you're dead.”

“But—”

“Audrey, you know my family.” Except maybe she didn't. Maybe she hadn't contacted them because of the baby, because she'd been so ashamed. “It wouldn't have mattered to them. They'd love you no matter what.”

Something changed in her face. At first it was as if she wanted to bring up something else, but she decided against it. In that moment it was as if all the tension in her body suddenly let go. She looked like she had when they'd first met, only more fragile. Very young. Every muscle in his body wanted to hold her tight, take care of her, but he waited. He'd waited this long. He could wait a little longer.

“Do you think we could go back to Jeddore?” she asked quietly.

She was so beautiful. So trusting. Like she had been before. Before he'd ruined it all. Now here she was, offering him a chance to save his life.

“Is the ocean wet?” he asked gently. He'd asked her that same question when she'd first arrived in Canada. When she'd asked if he wanted to take her home.