As arranged, Eugene and Uncle Mick met them at the hospital that evening. Grace and her mother rushed to embrace Eugene while her father shook Uncle Mick’s hand.
“How’s my boy doing?” Danny asked.
“He’ll be okay,” Eugene replied. “Doctor said the wound was superficial. Just needed a few stitches.”
The door to Harry’s room opened, and the nurse appeared.
“Are you all here to see Mr. Baker? He’s had some medicine, and he’s probably going to sleep the rest of the night. Would you like to see him anyway?”
At the sight of Harry all wrapped up and lying still as death, both Grace and her mother caught their breath. Most of his head was swathed in clean white bandages, though they’d left his good eye uncovered. The purple, crescent-shaped bruise underneath it was very dark, striking against his pale skin, but his chest rose and fell softly under the light blue hospital pyjamas. He was alive. Thank God.
“The doctor wasn’t worried at all, and he’s seen thousands of men wounded,” Uncle Mick assured them, putting a companionable arm around Audrey. “I’ve seen much worse. Hell, Harry’s been worse. Remember the little fella so long ago? He’s a fighter if ever I’ve seen one.”
“That’s true,” Audrey managed. “All my boys are fighters.”
They were quiet, each to their own thoughts, and Harry continued to breathe, slow and easy. Grace took his hand and whispered, “We love you, Harry. And Linda does too. She’s anxious to see you.”
“I gave the doctor my telephone number,” Mick said, “and I told my housekeeper to expect a crowd for dinner. How’s about we head up that way when you’re ready? You’ve probably forgotten how hungry you are.”
Back at Uncle Mick’s house, Grace called Linda. Eugene stood by, listening in as Grace assured her friend that Harry was doing well and receiving the best of care. Other than that, the conversation belonged to Linda, as usual. She was furious at the entire German race for Harry being injured, and she warned them she wasn’t going to hold her tongue a minute longer. Grace winced at some of her words, tried to refute others, but there was no convincing Linda of anything. What bothered Grace the most was the way she kept talking about Rudi, as if he was the root of all the evil in the world.
“Please don’t do anything crazy,” Grace said when Linda paused for breath. “Harry’s gonna be fine, and there’s no need to do anything to involve Adam. Think about your actions—you could ruin his life.”
“I don’t care about his life, Grace.”
“But I do. Don’t do anything. Promise me.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that. I have to look out for me and Harry now.”
“Oh, Eugene,” Grace said when the conversation was done and they’d both hung up. “She’s going to ruin everything.”
Eugene put an arm around her as they headed back to the sitting room. “Maybe she’ll behave.”
“Has she ever?”
“How did that go?” Danny asked as they came back in the room.
From his expression, Grace figured he’d overheard some of the conversation. She pressed her lips together. “She’s angry. She’s not thinking straight and she’s threatening to accuse . . . Adam of being a German spy.”
“She seemed set on it, from what I heard,” Eugene agreed. “Not sure a train could stop her.”
“Maybe not a train, but I think I know what might.” Danny faced his old friend Uncle Mick. “Hey, newspaperman, I have a story for you.”
Grace’s jaw dropped. “Dad!”
“I wondered if you might do this,” Audrey said.
Uncle Mick settled into his chair, lit a cigar. “Is that so? Just like the old days, huh?”
“Yep, but you might have to fudge a couple of things,” Danny said.
Mick’s mouth twisted to the side. “Just a couple?”
Grace sat back, surprised to hear her father launch into Rudi’s story, beginning with the explosion at Borgles Island and ending with Adam’s resurrection.
“I see,” Mick said, blowing smoke rings. “So . . . the way I see it, the story starts when Adam saves Tommy. Off the record, we’re saying there never really was a Rudi, right?”
“That’s right. The story’s true. It’s just that we need to reduce the two main characters to one.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s make sure I have all this straight,” Mick said, setting his cigar in an ashtray. He leaned forwards, checked his notes. “Adam Neumann came to Borgles Island with his parents when he was just a kid. We know that’s true because we have his birth certificate as proof. When the U-boat exploded in December, it killed Adam’s parents and everyone on the ship. Right so far? But it all worked out, because after they died he decided he’d had enough of the island, and he went to the cabin at Abbecombec. There he rescued Tommy, and he’s now joined your community as a hard worker. He may be a German, but he’s also a hero. That’s what you’re saying, in a nutshell.” He tilted his head towards the telephone. “And that?”
“Is the only person threatening to blow the story apart.”
“It’s not really her fault. She loves Harry,” Grace explained. “And this war, I mean, it’s so easy to just take sides and not think straight. For the longest time I believed all Germans were bad, and I’m ashamed of how I saw them as monsters instead of people. But I’m not the only one, am I? I mean, it’s in all the newspapers and on the radio, isn’t it? How they’re the bad guys no matter what. Really, they’re just men doing their duty like Harry was doing.”
“True enough,” Mick agreed.
“Oh, and off the record, Rudi—or rather, Adam,” Danny corrected himself, “says he’s done with fighting. He was right in there with the rest of them, but he’s done now.”
Uncle Mick tipped an imaginary hat at Grace. “All for the love of a pretty girl, sounds like.”
Grace blushed, but she didn’t deny it.
Her father shook his head. “No, I think it’s because he enjoys working for me so much. I still can’t understand why you didn’t want to come up and work at the plant, Mick. I did offer you a job, as you recall.”
Mick took a puff of his cigar and released its fragrant smoke. “I know you did. I just can’t imagine why I wouldn’t give all this up to live in fish stink.”
“The offer stands.”
“I’ll let you know.” Mick rolled the cigar thoughtfully between his fingers. “So Danny, this Rudi guy. He’s the real deal? You believe in him this much?”
“I do. We all do. Wouldn’t ask you if we didn’t.”
Grace watched Mick intently. Her uncle was a well-respected man here in Halifax, and he had a reputation to protect, but Grace knew he and her father went way, way back. What had they survived together in those vile trenches? What would he do for a friend after all this time?
“I’m going to go put some more coffee on,” Mick said, rising slowly from his seat. “Looks like I have a story to write. I might be up a few hours. Way past your bedtime, anyway. You all just tuck in and I’ll see you at breakfast.”