September 1939
The bittersweet truth these days was that there was a lot less laundry to hang. Standing on tiptoe, Grace clipped her father’s blue-checked shirt to the line, then reached for the next. The wind saw her working and rushed in to help, turning the shirts to balloons and flapping the sleeves so they seemed to wave towards the sea, and she paused from her work to appreciate the moment.
Sunlight sparkled off the water like diamonds, and a fishing boat drifted by. Grace had seen all kinds of boats in her twenty-one years living on Bakers Point. She’d watched the small in-shore fishing boats leave before sunrise and return in the dark of night, and she’d been aboard dories, schooners, rowboats, and canoes. Most were simple crafts past their primes, badly in need of paint and patching, but others were more impressive. These days all of them were overshadowed by the distant silhouettes of destroyers patrolling the shoreline. Those were quite a sight, and one Grace could not bear to watch.
Once upon a time her parents had sailed from Halifax all the way here, to East Jeddore, on a small white schooner with three young orphaned boys they’d rescued from the shattered debris of the Halifax Explosion. A few months later, Grace had come along and become their sister. As a family they’d built the fish plant, which supported not only them but the fishermen along the shore. Things sure had changed since then.
Grace picked up another shirt, pinned it roughly to the line, and reached for the next.
Her brothers were all grown up now, riding ugly metal ships somewhere, taking separate paths to a faraway war, while she stayed home to gut fish and babysit.
Harry was with the merchant marine, transporting supplies for the Allies. Blinded in one eye by the Halifax Explosion twenty years before, he hadn’t been able to join the Royal Canadian Navy like his twin brother. Eugene was aboard the destroyer HMCS Sackville. His job was to hunt the greatest threat in the war: the German submarines. Just thinking of U-boats made Grace shudder. The creatures reminded her of sharks, the way they prowled silently beneath convoys of merchant ships like Harry’s, shadowing their prey until they could take them out one by one.
The twins had always loved the sea, rode it like they were born to it, but their younger brother Norman stayed away from the water whenever he could.
“I don’t like not knowing what’s under my feet,” he said once. “The ocean’s black and deep and filled with creatures I don’t want to meet. Sure, I can live by the water, but when it comes right down to it, I’d rather not live on it.”
So he’d chosen the army. Her father had tried everything to talk him out of it, even speaking unexpectedly about his own horrible experiences in the Great War. He’d said the glory of invading the land was nothing when compared to the hell of being left to die on a burnt-out field, his severed leg lying a few feet away.
But Norman’s mind was set. “I’m not you, Dad. You’ll see. I’ll come back in one piece. But I won’t do that until I’ve blown a few Nazis to kingdom come.”
How could it have only been two weeks since they’d all gathered around the Halifax Harbour and said goodbye?
“Come on, Grace,” Norman had said. “No more crying. I’ll be back before you know it. Hey, maybe by then you’ll have finally found a man. But don’t get married without me, okay? I want to be at that party.”
She’d almost laughed at that. Some of her friends were already married with children. Grace, well, she’d never even been kissed. Worse than that, she’d never met a boy she wanted to kiss. To make her brother happy, she’d wiped her tears and smiled bravely up at him. Then he’d turned and boarded his ship.
The three Baker boys waved farewell from the decks, standing sharp and proud in their uniforms, their copper hair shining in the sun. Everyone on the docks flapped white handkerchiefs, then used them to dab away tears. Long after she’d lost sight of her brothers, Grace stood watching, wondering what they were thinking. She knew they were courageous, and she understood that their efforts to defeat the hateful German forces were important. She was so proud of them. They were much braver than she could ever be. Really, they were much more everything than she was.
With them gone, what am I supposed to do?
Tucking her hair back under her kerchief, she bent to pick up her basket, then hoisted it onto one hip. She scanned the water one more time, but she knew she wouldn’t see the answer she sought.
She’d never promised Norman she’d stop crying. Couldn’t have promised that in a million years. But she’d smiled through the agony as she’d waved farewell to him and the others. She’d smiled for the children and their parents when they were weak. But when she was alone—which felt like most of the time—she let the tears come.
Everyone said the war would be over quick. That they’d be home soon. Grace tried hard to believe them, to convince herself it wasn’t so bad. But as she made her way to the house, she felt a familiar sinking sensation in her gut. It was hard to believe anything would ever be the same again.