Tides of Honour (9 page)

FOURTEEN

Danny had always liked working
with his hands, sorting through nets and traps to get at the creatures caught within. He'd been out a few times since returning home, standing on the boat, leaning on his crutch as he hauled in the nets. The waves caught him, tossed him to the floor of the boat a few times, until he gave in and decided to revert to the slower process of handlining, bringing in a smaller but more valuable catch of cod.

He, Thomas, and Johnny eased into a spot they'd used for years.

“Grease the line, Danny. We'll check depths.”

“You do it. I sharpened the hooks last night.”

Johnny grunted and smeared grease on the anchor, then dropped it in, counting the fathoms with each disappearing knot.

“Where are we?” Danny asked.

“Seventeen,” Johnny replied, hauling the anchor back up. Gravel stuck to the anchor, confirming they'd hit the shoal. Anything close to twenty fathoms gave them a good chance of coming home with a fair catch. The cod would be here if they were anywhere.

Sure, it was fishing. But it wasn't what Danny thought of as fishing. It wasn't rolling over deep, black waves, their crests white with warning. It definitely wasn't clinging to the mast when the
Atlantic reminded men of her power. What they were doing now seemed like either old-man fishing or little-boy fishing. Danny wondered which one he was supposed to be.

He'd gone out a few times with the oldest two of his younger brothers, Johnny and Thomas. He knew they preferred to use nets to pull in the haddock, but they slowed the process down for him. The rough seas were too much for Danny to handle.

“I seen that Mary Tracey watching you,” Thomas told Johnny as the boat rose and fell, riding a long Atlantic swell. “Like a cat on cream, she is.”

“As she should be,” Johnny replied. “Who is there around here with looks like mine?”

Danny yawned loudly. “That big sow in Webber's barn has your look,” he suggested.

“Oh, and aren't you the funny one,” Johnny drawled, rolling his eyes.

“That's what the ladies tell me,” Danny replied.

Johnny and Thomas exchanged a grin.

“What?” Danny asked, feigning disinterest.

“Mother said you have a girl,” Thomas blurted. “That she's coming here to marry you.”

“Uh-huh,” Danny said. “That's right.”

They let the saltwater breeze clear the tension from the air before Thomas continued with the interrogation. “What's she like? Pretty?”

“Prettiest I ever seen,” Danny said, and smiled. “Her name's Audrey. She's smart and feisty, you know? Like she's not going to take no business from nobody. And she sure does think the world of me, for whatever reason.”

Johnny snorted. “Can't say she's that smart if she thinks that.”

“I can still shove you over,” Danny warned.

“Can you? Or would you topple in there with me?”

“Oh, now who's being funny?” asked Danny. “Do I have to remind you of the spearing event?”

Johnny'd been only eight when they'd set out in two smack boats that day, hunting for flatfish, or flounder. The flat-bottomed boat they used for clamming and lobstering also worked for flatfish, and their mother had sent her two oldest on a mission. Jimmy Mitchell had gone too. The trick was to kneel, lean in with the spear at the ready, then stab the mud. Had to be quick and accurate. But waiting for the fish to peek out of the mud could be a lesson in patience some days, and Johnny never had much of that.

“I did tell you not to stand up,” Danny reminded him.

“Haven't we been over this?”

He chuckled. “I'll never forget that, seeing you hugging that spear after you launched it deep into the mud, lost your balance, and the boat skipped out from under you. You were like a porcupine up a tree.”

“And you were a big help.”

Danny grinned even wider and turned to Thomas, remembering. “Hell, Jimmy was laughing so hard I didn't think he'd be able to turn the boat around to pick him back up.”

“Wish I'd been there,” Thomas said, laughing.

“You were barely walking.”

“Hey! I was six!”

Danny winked at him. “Exactly.”

Thomas jigged his line hard, setting the fish, then pulled steady with long strokes. A shiny foot-long cod, hooked in the belly, flopped from the hook. Thomas grabbed the slippery body, freed it, then dumped it on the floor between them. His hook was lowered back into the black water within seconds. That was good. Meant they were right over a school.

“Vinny's brother's going to enlist,” Thomas said, his eyes on a screeching gull overhead.

Danny said nothing, just gave his line an experimental tug.

Thomas continued. “Floyd says he wishes he was going too. He's seventeen. He thinks that's old enough.” He hesitated. “I do too.”

Johnny's eyes shifted to watch his older brother's reaction. Danny sighed.

“Sure, I guess it's old enough, Tommy. To die. To lose a leg or an eye or something. To see your buddies blown to meat. Tell you what. I reckon I'm as tough as any of those boys over there. Tougher than a lot of them. And I would cry most every night, wishin' I was here with you brats. If it was up to me, I'd end the war tomorrow, so you'd never have to go. Neither of you.”

The gull was still shrieking, but the wind had changed. The water was still, slow and soothing, like a cradle after the baby has fallen asleep.

“Ain't biting much,” Johnny said.

“Nope,” his brothers replied.

The gull dove, focused and unafraid, hitting the surface of the water with jarring suddenness. Then he floated, like the decoys the hunters used each fall. As though he were carved from wood. The boys sat likewise.

“So she's pretty?” Thomas asked after a few minutes.

“Uh-huh,” Danny said. “You'll see her soon.”

Later that night, Danny and Johnny sat on the edge of the dock, smoking and listening to the spring peepers fill the night with their chirping. Johnny cleared his throat.

“You need money for Audrey, don't you?” he said. Both of them knew there wasn't much Danny could do about that.

“I'll need it when she gets here.”

Johnny's dark eyebrow flicked up. “And how's she getting here?”

It was tough to say it out loud. Tough enough to think it, but even tougher to hear it said. He looked into the darkness, not wanting to see Johnny's reaction. “She's got a job in London. Working in a munitions factory.”

Turns out he didn't have to see him to feel Johnny's surprise. “A job?”

Danny nodded and took a deep drag on his cigarette. There was no breeze, so when he and his brother exhaled, the smoke sat in front of their faces like fog over the cove. Something flopped in the water, grabbed an evening snack off the surface, then plunged below.

“She said she wanted to.”

“And you let her?”

“Who am I to order her around?” he snapped, then he sniffed and lowered his voice. “She has to make money anyhow, I guess. She has no family.”

Johnny seemed to accept that. “Okay. So when's she coming? It's been a while.”

Danny nodded. “Yep. At this rate I may be an old man before she gets over here.”

“Poor girl,” Johnny said. “You're ugly enough now. Wouldn't want to see you when you're old.”

“Always so funny, little brother.”

Plans went ahead, despite the fact that her arrival was still a ways off. Daniel Sr. approached Danny one morning with the first step. “I've been thinking,” he said. “You and your wife'll want your own room, I expect.”

Danny grinned, a little sheepish. “I'd think so, sir.”

“I've ordered some lumber, and I thought you and I could build it on this side of the house,” he said, gesturing. “So your wife can see the ocean when she wakes. Do you reckon she'd like that? The view?”

“Oh, yes sir,” Danny assured him. “She's a real queen, my Audrey, sir. She loves everything. You'll see. And she's the prettiest thing—”

“That's fine, son,” his father said, lifting an eyebrow. “No need to discuss her virtues. I'm certain she has many. I was only wondering if she'd like the view.”

“Right. Sorry, sir.” He chuckled to himself. “I get carried away thinking about her sometimes. Yes. She'd love it.”

“Good. So we'll build it here, cut through that wall for the door, fashion a window this way, and maybe a separate entrance.” He looked at Danny without the slightest hint of pity. “I'll expect you to pull your weight, son.”

“You can count on me, sir.”

It became a spring project, with Johnny and the younger boys pitching in as well.

Someday they'd live in more than a room off to the side. Someday they'd build their own house, though he'd keep it nearby. Even if he had two legs, it didn't make sense for Audrey and him to break new land since his grandfather had already made a good start on it. Besides, when his father could no longer hoist in a net, when his mother hadn't the strength to do things on her own, Danny and his brothers would be nearby. Family stayed close. Always had, always would. For now, a room in his father's house would do.

After a difficult but determined first day, he stayed up late by the oil lamp, writing to Audrey, telling her what they'd done. It was a good time for Danny, getting back into daily routines. He
wore his peg leg while he worked, covered by his trousers, and though it was uncomfortable and hot, it gave him better balance. It also kept the others' eyes off him and on the work at hand. He leaned into the boards when he needed support and occasionally forgot he was missing anything at all. Almost.

FIFTEEN

June 1917

Passengers swarmed off the newly
completed Pier 2, shuffling along the concrete wall for what seemed like miles, just to get their papers stamped. The floor was awash with faded hats, coats, and bags, everything wallowing in browns, greys, and blacks. Bright colours were out of fashion these days, dulled by the war. Everyone was in mourning for someone.

Danny was so excited he fairly shook. They'd waited so long for this, it was hard to believe the day was here. He stared out at the people, imagining her arms around his neck, remembering the sweet touch of her lips, but he had a lurking fear he wouldn't recognize her when she finally arrived. It had been so long, after all.

But he needn't have worried. Through all the bodies and bags, Danny could still spot Audrey. It had been over a year since he'd seen her, but his eyes picked her out like a hawk on a mouse. He didn't remember her being so tiny, and he worried that when he finally held her, he'd crush her in his enthusiasm. Then he thanked the Lord that he had seen fit to take Danny's leg instead of his arm. He needed to hold her.

She wore a brown belted dress that had the look of a coat
about it. A line of dark buttons ran down its length, from her oversized collar to just beneath her knees. Topping it all was a small yellow hat, like a lid over a pot of bubbling brown curls. She looked tired, but he saw her flash a smile at a family behind her. He longed to see her smile for him. Just for him.

What had she been wearing that day they'd met? He couldn't recall. That had been the one and only other time he'd ever seen her, apart from her picture, that is. A white kerchief over her hair, he remembered that.

He'd hardly dared to dream of her coming to him after all this. Like a nightingale willing to fly into a battlefield. He'd fallen in love with a crazy bird, hadn't he?

“Audrey!” he called, leaning on his crutch and waving along with hundreds of other welcoming arms. She couldn't hear him. He knew that. But if he celebrated her arrival even in this little way, it seemed to bring her closer.

Someone shoved past Danny, accidentally kicking his crutch. Danny stumbled, cursed, and glared at the offender's receding back.

“Watch your bloody step,” he growled.

“Excuse me,” a woman beside him said coldly. “I'm sure you can control that kind of language, can you not? There are ladies and children here, sir.”

He glanced at the children at her feet, then back at her. All three were staring at Danny's stump, their faces twisted with disgust.

“Excuse me, kids,” Danny said. He waited for her to look up, then he slowly added, “Ma'am.”

He smiled, but it was a dark smile. A smile that dared her to say another word. A smile that said,
Judge me all you want, lady. I lost this leg fighting for your freedom.
Something about that smile must have had an effect, because her scowl dropped. She stepped
back, tugging her children into the crowd.
That's right,
he thought as loudly as he could.
You
should
be scared.

He peered back toward the lineups, and his heart gave a little jump when he couldn't spot Audrey right away. He scanned the coats he knew were ahead of her, behind her, beside—ah, there she was. Her yellow cap stood out among all the drab browns, like a daffodil poking through wilted grass. She was crouched down, talking to a little boy in an oversized blue cap. It looked as if she only had one bag with her. That was just fine because the schooner they were taking wasn't very big, and it was a good, long ride to East Jeddore. At least the weather was good and the wind was up.

He was glad she'd come out mid-summer. Summer in Nova Scotia was a gorgeous palette, and he knew she'd love it. The bunch of day lilies he clutched, all wrapped up in a pink lace ribbon his mom had suggested, were soft, feminine, and pretty. Just like Audrey. It was beautiful. It was all beautiful. The trees and the water, the blue of the sky. It was all a man needed. That, and a good wife.

Maybe they'd get married right away, under the huge oaks in his parents' yard by the sea. Why spend time in separate bedrooms when they could be living together as man and wife?

Man and wife. It hardly seemed real. On the day they'd met, they'd been two frightened souls in the middle of nowhere, and he marvelled it had come to this. They'd met one day and parted the next, but he'd known. She'd known too. That's just the way it was. And now he was standing at the pier, vibrating with impatience. He was like a kid at a candy shop, waiting for his turn to grab a treat.

His family would all come to the wedding, and that would include a lot of aunts and uncles. He couldn't invite any of his friends, because they were either still fighting overseas or they
were dead. He'd written to the boys in the battalion but hadn't heard back. He wondered if they'd opened his letter in a trench and read it out loud while they huddled around an insubstantial fire. Had they laughed over it in someone's bombed-out basement? Had they kept it and used the paper to roll cigarettes?

Soldiers stood in a wall of uniforms around Audrey, looking as if they needed protection more than she did. Their haunted eyes stared around the pier, lost without the burn of smoke and stink of death. Danny knew that confusion. Felt it every day. Sometimes when he awoke in the mornings, he panicked, fooled by the silence of the room. When he heard nothing, his first thought was that maybe he'd died. He'd often wondered if death was better than the alternative.

Some of his own kind were drifting in now, men on stretchers and crutches, bandaged like mummies. They were marched or carried up to the top floor, where a small hospital had been set up for those who couldn't go another step without help. Danny felt sick, watching them. His eyes found their injuries first, then scanned their faces, wondering if he might recognize one of the thousands he'd seen at the front. He never did.

Some of the boys looked very young, he thought. Young, but with the spirit twisted right out of them. Danny knew that pain as well.

He looked back toward where he'd last seen Audrey and realized she'd moved right up to the front of the line. He limped closer, trying to avoid squishing anyone's feet with his crutch.

“Audrey!” he called, and her head spun, curls bouncing as she searched for him. He waved. “Over here, Audrey!”

“Danny!” Her smile was beautiful. Radiant. She looked as if she wanted to run to him, but the woman behind the desk was taking her time. “I'm coming!”

She bent over the desk and signed whatever needed signing, grabbed her bag, and ran toward Danny.

At first he just stared at her, paralyzed. It felt unreal, seeing her right there in front of him, in his own country, his own place. She stopped two feet away, smiling and waiting for her welcome. Her smile faded when he didn't speak or move.

One small hand nervously tugged the curls hanging onto her neck. “Please don't stare at me like that, Danny,” she said after a moment. “Say something.”

“I—” Danny wanted to oblige, but he just kept staring. He wanted to say something, quit looking like such an idiot, but he was tongue-tied. Instead, he grinned at her, his eyebrows angling up in a comical slant.

“Danny?” She frowned, but a curious smile started to emerge. “Is it all right that I'm here?”

“God, Audrey,” he managed at last. He thrust the flowers toward her, then started forward, leaning on the crutch, wanting so badly not to look awkward. She was there first, her arms around his neck, her lips on his as if they'd always belonged there.

“What?” he said, leaning away from her. “Are those tears, Audrey? Are you cryin'?”

She snuffled and backed away, scrambling in her handbag for a handkerchief. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I have a cloth somewhere but I—”

“Forget that. I'm only teasing. Come here, will you? I've wanted to touch you for so long!”

Her arms went back around him, and he grabbed her waist. The crutch snugged under his arm, but he didn't need it. She was holding him, he was holding her, and he felt as if he could run and jump again, fly through the forest paths as he'd done for twenty-five years before this. Her brown dress was rough, like the calluses on his fingers, a lighter wool than his uniform had been.
It carried with it the smell of the sea, of travel, and of the grime she'd picked up along the way. He liked everything about it. It made her more real to him. And less fragile. He kissed her for so long he thought he might run out of breath.

“I can hardly wait to introduce you to my folks and my brothers. You'll be stayin' in the new bedroom until we—” Words bubbled up his throat, nervous, excited, unstoppable. Champagne behind a cork. “But I already told you that in my letters, didn't I? I can't believe I wrote so many letters. I never used to write. Anyway, it's a nice room. My father and I just finished it. I hope you'll be comfortable in it. It's just down the hall from the room that I share with some of my brothers. And my mother is planning a big supper for tonight, so I hope you're hungry. She's a pretty good cook. I think we're having cod and potatoes. We've got a ways to go to get home, so she sent some scones. Are you hungry? Maybe you're thirsty? Do you want to walk around town a bit before we head home?”

Audrey's eyes were dancing. “You are amazing, Danny.”

He hesitated. That was unexpected. “I'm amazing? Well, shucks.”

She giggled. “I am very, very happy to be here.”

“I'm talking too much, aren't I?”

“No,” she said. “Never enough. Tell me more.” She flapped a hand at the crowds behind her. “I've listened to these people and their problems all the way here. Now I only want to hear you.”

“You're pretty easy to talk to, Audrey. Maybe that's why they came to you.”

“Maybe. But it was a long trip, and the whole time I was feeling so sorry for people, I hardly had time to get excited about coming here.” Her smile flashed. “But I'm here now. Would you take me home, Danny?”

Danny closed his eyes for a moment, savouring her request,
then opened them and stared deep into hers. “Would I take you home? Well, you tell me: is the ocean wet?”

She frowned and tilted her head, then tossed it back and laughed. “Oh, Danny. I've missed you.”

She didn't once drop her eyes to stare at his missing leg. Not once. He wondered if she'd even noticed. He decided to say something. Make it easier.

“I'm not gonna be like those folks on the boat. I'm not gonna tell you any sad stories,” he said, holding both her hands, the flowers between them. “I want you to be happy.”

She didn't look down but said, “Danny, I know about your leg. If you want to talk about it, I want to talk about it. If you don't, that's fine. It's just that all those strangers, well, I didn't care about their stories. They weren't important. Yours are important.”

She was so pretty. For months he'd held on to the portrait she'd given him that morning so long ago, and he'd been determined not to forget her features, but the cool black and white lines couldn't bring him the blue of her eyes or the way they'd captured him on that very first day. Now those eyes looked tired, and he couldn't blame her. He swung her bag onto his shoulder, the one without the crutch. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. She knew him well enough by now to know he wouldn't want help. Not with that, damn it. He was still a man. He was glad she didn't ask.

“Let's get you home and settled, okay? I bet it'll feel good to sleep in a real bed.”