Come from Away Page 15

  “We love you,” she whispered into his ear. Tears came again, and she let them flow. “I’ve missed you so much, Norman. Every single day. You’re my best friend,” she reminded him. “No more going away for you. I know you don’t feel right, but we’re going to help you. No matter how long it takes, we’re going to take care of you.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Audrey put Norman to bed in his childhood room and stayed a while to help him adjust. While she was gone, Eugene put more logs in the fire and Grace made tea for everyone. They all settled in and waited for Audrey to return.

  Danny said, “Damn, it’s good to have all three of you home.”

  His voice cracked on the last word, and no one answered him. Then Audrey came into the room, her eyes rimmed with red. “I think he’ll sleep. He didn’t move when I tucked him in, but he was looking at me, you know—” she caught her breath “—with those sad eyes, and I—” She stopped short, and Danny reached for her hand.

  Grace turned to her brothers, took a deep breath. “Please tell us what happened.” When Harry and Eugene looked at each other, she stopped them. “No, no, no. Don’t do that twin thing. Just tell us.”

  Eugene stood near the fireplace, hands in his pockets. “Today was supposed to be a great day,” he said. “Harry and I planned it way ahead, coordinating leave time. We wanted to surprise you.”

  “Well, that happened.” She gave him a wry smile. “Sorry. Go on. I won’t interrupt.”

  “That’ll be a first,” Harry teased, taking a seat next to her.

  She gave him a dirty look, then leaned against him. He put an arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. It felt good to share a joke after everything.

  “We met at the navy building,” Eugene said, “and we were on the way to a tavern for lunch when we spotted a man slumped in the alley. That in itself was nothing new. Men like that are all over the place. They don’t eat, they don’t talk to anyone, they just . . . exist, I guess.”

  That’s what Norman seemed like to Grace. Like a starving stranger barely hanging on.

  “Even on the ships,” Harry agreed. “A lot of them live like that. Like shadows.”

  “But there was something about this guy.”

  “The beard.”

  “Yeah. The beard. Can you grow a beard like that?”

  Harry shook his head. “You know I can’t.”

  Grace had seen them try a few times when they were younger, but the bright copper scruff never managed to get past a certain point, and Harry’s scar cut his into pieces. Norman had grown short beards before, but he’d always shaved them off, claiming they made him itchy.

  “Anyway,” Eugene went on, “maybe it was the way his head was angled, maybe the way he moved his hand . . . I really don’t know. But we knew him.”

  “We went over and . . .” Harry dropped his eyes.

  “We hardly recognized him through the filth on his face. But then we did, and we asked him to come with us. He kept staring at us, kind of blank, and then, well . . .” Eugene cleared his throat. “His mouth moved a little. He was saying my name. And that’s when he cried. That’s when we all cried.”

  Grace reached for Harry’s hand, still resting on her shoulder, and their fingers locked together.

  “I ran to the tavern and called you,” Harry said. “When I came back, I told Norman how warm it was in there, about the soup on the menu and all that, trying to say something that would help him think clearly again. God, it was so sad. He just stared up at me, those big eyes pleading like a baby’s.”

  “He was helpless as a lamb,” Eugene agreed. “He poked Harry’s cheek—his scar—then he touched his own cheek, and we didn’t know what to say. So we told him his face was okay. He just needed a razor. And soap. He stunk so bad.”

  “He wasn’t scared of us, but everything else?” Harry shook his head. “His body shook like a leaf on a windy day. We had to hold him up, and the tavern owner didn’t look too happy to see him, but that didn’t matter.” Harry sighed. “I saw some guys like this when we transported troops back. One of them had his jaw clenched so tight from nerves he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything but moan. Another fellow I saw just cried all the time.”

  “You ever feel like that?” Eugene asked Harry. “Like you’re losing your mind?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve been so scared I couldn’t think, but it seems to go away for the most part. Sometimes I can’t really tell what’s real and what’s a nightmare. I don’t sleep much, though. You?”

  Grace had heard the brothers carry on these kinds of conversations between themselves before. It was like one was checking to make sure he was okay based on the other. It was comforting to hear them together, even if what they were talking about was unnerving.

  “Yeah, I don’t sleep either. Even when I’m on dry land I can hear the alarm bells, and I’m ready to leap out of bed at the slightest noise.” Eugene turned to Danny. “Does it get better, Dad?”

  Their father shrugged, squeezed their mother’s hand. “Some nights are better than others, but I don’t sleep much. Still.”

  Audrey looked across the room, met Grace’s eyes, and she knew they were thinking the same thing. While they had worked hard at home, scrimped and saved, done all they could to survive this terrible war, none of it compared to what the men in their family had gone through. Her heart went out to each one of them, and another piece of it went to Rudi. Who had taken care of him when he got lost in the war?

  “How did Norman get here?” Grace asked. “To Halifax, I mean. How did we not know he was still alive?”

  Her father rubbed his chin. “I’ve been asking myself that same question. We’ll just have to wait until he tells us, I guess.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Eugene and Harry’s visit flew by. They were set to leave in a few days, so when a rare, almost warm winter afternoon arrived, Grace suggested they all enjoy a bonfire out by the dock.

  “This’ll be nice,” she said to Harry as they guided Norman down to the shoreline. “Spend some happy time together before you have to go back.”

  At that, Norman’s eyes snapped to Harry’s and the shaking in his hands intensified. The arm Grace held tightened to steel cable.

  “Not you, Norman! Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “No, you’re not going back. You’re never going back out there. Just Harry and Eugene.”

  “And we’ll be just fine,” Harry assured them both. “We made each other a promise, and he and I don’t break those kinds of promises. We’ll both be back before you know it.” He leaned close to Norman’s ear. “And just to get your mind off that I’ll let you in on a little secret, since you don’t seem to be in the mood to go spilling the beans about it. Promise to keep it to yourself?”

  The corner of Norman’s mouth twitched.

  “All right, then. Here it is. Before I leave here, I’m gonna ask Linda to marry me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “It’s about time, right?”

  “What?” Grace squealed. This was news.

  Harry scrunched up his nose, but his eyes were laughing. “Oops! Did you hear that? Darn. You weren’t supposed to know, Miss Gracie. Now you just keep your pretty mouth shut about that.”

  “Over here, boys,” Audrey called, waving. Eugene had set up a few chairs, and one seat was draped in a blanket. “Bring Norman over here. We’ll keep him warm. That all right with you, Norman? And Harry, you sit over there by your father.”

  Harry whispered to Grace, “I am almost thirty years old. How does she always manage to make me feel like I’m five again?”

  “All my boys,” Audrey said as they sat, almost to herself.

  Grace couldn’t stop smiling. Sure, things were different, but they were together, and that’s what mattered. Norman, she was certain, would wake up out of this awful state soon, and the best part was that he wouldn’t have to go back to war after this. He was one brother she could keep an eye on for now. And when the war was finally over, Harry and Linda would g
et married. Nothing like love in the air to make people happy again.

  And that made her think of Rudi. He was up at the barn, and she knew he could see the family gathering around the bonfire. He’d stayed away since her brothers had come home, not wanting to cause trouble, but every so often she found herself thinking of him, remembering the kiss she’d placed on his cheek the night Norman returned. She had meant it to be a small thing: a sign of gratitude, nothing more, but the memory wouldn’t fade. Sometimes she almost wished she’d never done it, because that kiss had intensified everything about the way she was feeling, and she wasn’t really sure what to do about it. Right then, though, she felt like Rudi should be there by the bonfire, among the family.

  “Maman,” she said, pulling her from Norman, “can I ask you a question?”

  Audrey patted Norman’s hand. “I’ll be right back, dear. Grace and I will bring cocoa and tea.”

  Back in the house, Grace brought a pot of milk to a boil while her mother got cocoa from the cupboard.

  “I want to introduce Rudi to the boys,” Grace said quietly.

  “Today?”

  She kept her eyes on the pot. “They’ll be going back soon.”

  “True. And I suppose they will probably need to know about him—if he stays, that is,” Audrey reasoned.

  Grace stirred the milk, taking care not to scald it while she worked up the nerve to say what she was thinking.

  “Maman, I need to tell you something, and I’m not sure how to say it.”

  Her mother said nothing, merely added a steaming teapot to a tray.

  “I feel like . . . It’s . . . There’s something about Rudi that I . . .” How did one put feelings like this into words? It came to her how difficult that must be for Rudi, with his rudimentary understanding of the language. “I wish I could explain it. When I talk with him I feel more . . . oh, I don’t know.”

  “More what?”

  “Alive.”

  The word came to her unexpectedly, and in that moment she knew she was right about it. She’d never met anyone like Rudi. He intrigued her, he challenged her, and she appeared to affect him the same way. She wanted to be with him, to understand him, to laugh with him. To hold his hand and kiss his mouth.

  She was relieved to see not one shred of judgment in her mother’s face. “We can never choose who we’re going to love,” Audrey said. Her voice was rich with a kind of nostalgia Grace could only guess at.

  “I didn’t say I loved him.”

  “I know you didn’t.” Audrey took the cooking pot from the stove and started pouring cocoa into her special white pot, with its pretty pink rose pattern and gold trim. “But if you do, I want you to know that it’s all right with me, and with your father. We all know what Rudi came from, but his life is changing rapidly. We don’t know where his choices will lead him.” When the cocoa was poured, she turned to Grace. “If you are one of those choices, then he is changing his life for the better.”

  That wasn’t the question she’d asked. How had her mother switched the words around so they changed everything? Had Grace ever mentioned love? Not even once. And yet here they were, practically discussing whether Rudi would be a good husband for her.

  Except it did make Grace stop. And think of him again.

  “You’re a brave girl,” her mother said. “Bring him out and introduce him if you want. Your brothers are good men. There may be some opposition at first—that’s only natural these days—but they will understand. They only want you to be happy, after all.”

  “What about Norman?”

  It was a question that had been bothering her ever since her brother had come home. His life had been ruined by the Nazis. How would he react to having one in their midst?

  “Norman has a lot of battles ahead of him,” her mother said, more subdued, “but they aren’t because of Rudi.” She moved to the door. “Come on. Before the tea gets cold.”

  Grace picked up the tray and followed her mother outside, intrigued. Ever since Norman had come home, Audrey seemed stronger, ready to go to battle for her son. In the past, her reluctance to discuss the war and other difficult issues had frustrated Grace so much she’d judged her, labelled her as weak. Now she saw that her mother’s avoidance had never been a weakness, just an attempt to block out the horrors she and her husband had both survived. She’d chosen to suffer in silence. Just like Norman.

  “If Rudi makes you feel alive,” her mother said, “then bring him down.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  When Grace walked into the barn, she didn’t see him, but she heard his cheery whistling coming from the far stall. The sound made her smile; he was happy today.

  She peered over the half wall, but his back was to her; all his attention was on her father’s old generator. He’d removed the spark plug and filed the point. Protected by the plug’s rubber cap, his fingers held the threads against the machine, then he gave the cord a good pull. She was as surprised as he was to see a strong spark.

  “Ja. Der Vergaser,” he muttered to himself. “Das ist gut.”

  She hadn’t heard him speak in pure German before. Something about how comfortable, how natural, he sounded uttering those words gave her an unexpected thrill. She kept quiet, admiring the broad shape of his back, then the line of his shoulder as he reached backwards, towards the door. Still focused on the machine, he groped along the flat top of the half wall with one grease-smeared hand, his fingers inches away from a wrench. Grace placed the tool in his hand, startling him.

  “I didn’t know you were a mechanic, too,” she said. His golden hair was growing out; she liked the way it curled a little over his ears.

  He grinned at her. “Yes,” he said. “We learn Mechanik in navy.”

  The last time they’d seen each other, she’d been crying in his arms. He’d held her, soothed her, and she’d kissed his cheek. Now the memory of his touch sent adrenaline roaring through her. Did he remember it as she did?

  He was watching her, waiting for some kind of response.

  “Uh, so is it going to work?” she stammered.

  He rubbed one cheek, leaving behind a patch of shiny black grease. “Engine is working. I think is only dirty carburetor. What is it for?”

  “It used to power the fish plant before my father put in electricity. I guess it’s not for anything anymore. Are you going to fix it?”

  “Is not broken.” He scratched the side of his nose, turning it black as well, and she tried not to laugh at the mess he was creating. “But I need things.”

  Whether he’d meant to or not, his simple comment brought her into his project. She liked that. “If we have it at the store, I can get it.”

  “Einige Schrauben, Benzin, eine Drahtbürste . . .” He saw her blank stare, then he held up an old bolt. “Einige Schrauben.”

  “Bolts?”

  “Ja. Bolzen.” He mimed something, as if he was scrubbing something hard. “Eine Drahtbürste.” He gestured towards the generator. “Is dirty.”

  “A scrub brush? For cleaning?”

  “Ja.”

  “Ah. I’ll bring you a wire brush. And you said Benzine?”

  “Gasoline?”

  “Okay. I’ll ask Tommy to get me some gas.”

  “Und das Papier for the—” He held up two pieces of metal, then showed her how the paper would fit between the two. “I do not know what is this. In German is Dichtung. Is making gas not come out . . .”

  “Gasket paper!” she cried. How ridiculous did she sound? As if gasket paper was something truly exciting. “I know what that is. I’ve seen it on the shelves. Yes, I can get you that.”

  His eyes seemed even brighter over the blackness on his cheek. “Good. I make it work for your father. Is thank you for him.”

  “He’ll like that.” She pointed at the machine. “Are you finished for now?”

  He stooped and grabbed a rag off the floor. “If you want talk to me, I am finished.”

  She’d thought it over on the short walk here, won
dering how she should approach him with the idea of meeting her brothers. She didn’t want him scared off by the fact that he would soon be surrounded by Canadian military men, so she figured she’d explain that the introduction was unavoidable. Especially now that Norman was home to stay.

  “Um, I told you before that my brothers are all home.”

  He closed the stall door behind him, listening while he wiped his hands relatively clean with the rag.

  “I want you to meet them.”

  The spell was broken. “Is not good idea. Your brothers not want me here.”

  The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, she was taken aback. Of course he would assume they would hate him. Yes, he was German. Yes, he had been part of Hitler’s navy. But circumstances had brought him here, to her. He was a person, just like she was, and he deserved to be happy. She searched for the right words, wishing she could reassure him.

  “My brothers are good men, Rudi, and they’ll listen to me. I want them to know you.” He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she stopped him. “I want them to know that I like you.”

  The ice in his expression melted. “Okay.” Turning back, he laid the tarp over the machine, and she understood the generator was a secret. “We go say hello now.”

  She loved how he trusted her. “One second.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “You’ve got a little something here,” she said, reaching for his cheek. He didn’t flinch when she wiped off the grease, simply watched her, the corners of his eyes crinkled. In a single, fleeting impulse she was tempted to lift onto her toes and kiss the spot she’d cleaned.

  “I hope they not hating me, Grace, because I like you, too.”

  Flustered, she drew away, but he pulled her gently back, wanting her full attention.

  “Do not be afraid.” He softly touched her cheek, his calloused fingers warm against her skin. The strangest tingle spread through her, a warmth she’d never felt before. “Be happy, Grace,” he said. “When you smile, everything in my life is good.”