Tides of Honour

by Genevieve Graham

  “Doesn’t surprise me you should feel that way. After all, you’re the one on the other side of the bars. You got nothing left but threats. But you know, talking about regrets, you might wish you’d never threatened me like that.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that? I’m not scared of a half man.”

  Danny chuckled, then leaned back again. “Hey, Franco!” he yelled down the corridor.

  A deep voice called back, “Yo, Danny! Dat you?”

  “Sure is,” Danny replied, still grinning. “Who’s down there with you?”

  “Well, let me see,” Franco said. Danny could picture the big man counting off on his massive fingers. “There’s Jimbo, Maddy MacDonald, Chains, Bruce . . . they’s all here. Oh, and Red, too, I think. You here, Red?”

  “I’m here, Franco. Nice to hear your voice, Danny my lad,” came the response.

  Red was a huge Irishman. He loomed over everyone at the docks and was built like a bull. His nickname naturally originated from the colour of his stiff brush cut but also applied to the deep shade of red that seeped up his face when he was the least bit roused. Danny’d never seen a man with tougher knuckles than Red. The image of those fists introducing themselves to Antoine made him smile inside.

  “Good to hear yours too, Red. You comin’ out to play sometime soon?”

  “Oh, sure I will. Just catchin’ up on some sleep is all. Three square meals a day here. A fella can’t complain.”

  “What are you in here for this time, Franco?” Danny watched Antoine’s face. He already knew the answer to his question, and he had a pretty good idea of how the answer would affect Antoine’s confidence.

  He imagined the big Italian’s careless shrug. “Somethin’ to do with dat altercation at the rail yards th’other night. Slight disagreement is all.” Scattered chuckles bounced off the walls. “Why you here, Danny? You need somethin’?”

  “Oh no, Franco. Thanks. I’m just here visiting. Hey, did you boys meet the latest jailbird? My old friend Pierre Antoine? Seems he stole stuff from the orphanage. Let the kids starve. Some kinda hero, huh?”

  Pop pop—the trademark sound of Mad MacDonald cracking his knuckles. “I heard of that guy in the paper this mornin’. Tell you what, lad. I’d sure like to meet that new friend of yours face to face. He’s some kind o’ celebrity.”

  Danny looked down the corridor. “He has some big plans for me and my family, apparently. Did you hear what he said?”

  “Every word,” came Red’s voice.

  “No’ a real polite lad, is he?” asked MacDonald. “Threatenin’ our friend an’ all.”

  “Don’t worry,” Franco’s voice rumbled. “We’ll look after Mr. Antoine for you, Danny.”

  Danny turned back toward Pierre, who had turned a sickly white under the bruises. “Am I gonna kill you?” he asked. “Nah. I won’t have to. The tides have turned. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Antoine.” He stepped from the bars and tipped an imaginary hat toward his friends down the hall. “See ya round, fellas. Take care of yourselves.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Danny did as he’d promised, returning to the orphanage to collect Audrey and the boys, but he did so only after he’d stopped in at Mick’s house and packed all the couple’s belongings. That way they could just leave the city once and for all. He borrowed a wagon and carried all their things to the docks, then arranged for passage. Danny didn’t have a boat in Halifax, and he hadn’t set this up in advance so his father could bring one down for them, so Danny paid a man to sail them, and all their meagre possessions, up to East Jeddore.

  When he arrived at the orphanage, Audrey was watching, concern wrinkling her brow. Her expression cleared when she saw him, and as soon as he was close enough, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up for a gentle kiss.

  “Is everything all right now?” she asked.

  Danny nodded. “Yup. Everything’s fine.”

  “What about Pierre?” she asked carefully.

  “You don’t need to worry about him ever again.” She frowned, but he only shook his head. “It’s all taken care of. End of story, Audrey.”

  He knew she wanted more information, but it was his. He didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to answer questions. He’d done what he’d had to do. He could move on now.

  “Hey, boys,” he said, turning toward them. “Who wants to go on a boat?”

  Mick came to the dock to bid them farewell. He accepted all the invitations they issued, promising to visit when he could. “The boss’ll be sure to offer me a few days’ holiday after this story blows over. But I’ll be plenty busy until then.”

  “Hey, Mick,” Danny said, holding out a hand. “Thanks for everything.”

  Mick nodded, gripping Danny’s hand and giving it a shake. “Watch yourself up there, eh? Don’t get lost in the stink of fish. But if you do, I’ll probably still have room for you here.” He cast a dubious eye over the little boys running in shrieking circles around the bags. “Whenever you want.”

  “Thank you, Mick,” Audrey said, hugging him. “For everything.” From over her shoulder, Danny watched his buddy’s eye close, his hands press against her back.

  Mick stepped back. “I’m happy it all worked out. Take care of him, will you? He tends to get himself in situations.”

  She sniffed. “I promise I will.”

  “Good. Then let’s get this boat moving. Ain’t gonna be daylight forever.”

  The little boys climbed into the sloop and sat close to each other, grinning with anticipation.

  Danny turned back to Mick. “Hey, Mick. If you need a story in a week or so, you might wanna check on Mr. Antoine over there in the jailhouse. See how he’s getting along with Franco and the others.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I introduced him to them, you might say.”

  Mick grinned and shook his head. “You always was full of surprises, my friend. I’ll watch out for that and keep you informed on his situation. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “No. Thank you,” Danny repeated. “I mean it. For everything.”

  Danny gave the little boys strict instructions about exactly how far they were allowed to lean over the edge of the boat, but he let them touch the water as they floated up and out of Halifax Harbour. Audrey held Norman on her lap and pointed out sights as they went.

  The wind picked up as they pulled away from the dock, and the captain nodded at Danny, who let out the jib until it barely luffed, then tightened the sail and tied it off. The captain did the same for the mainsail, then sat at the tiller. The saltwater wind whipped Danny’s hair against his face, blowing cool and clean, healing so much more than just his cuts and bruises. He leaned against the mast and closed his eyes. The weight of the past year began to slide off his shoulders and sink into the sea.

  For five hours the sloop passed by nothing but water, sky, and trees. Danny knew it all looked the same to the others, but not to him. Every inch of the shoreline was etched into his mind, and he was soothed by its fingers, its constantly changing patterns of green and grey. The explosion had stripped the north end of Halifax of most trees, and the whispering of leaves at the water’s edge was like a lullaby to him. Branches had lengthened over time, new birds flitted from tree to tree, but it was the same. It was home.

  “We’re almost there,” he told them.

  Audrey sat between the children, who were now half asleep, silently watching the shore. The creases he’d seen so often crossing her brow were gone, like the waves of the sea when it calms after a storm. She sensed him looking at her and smiled in that young girl’s way, sweet and trusting, wanting to please. But no longer quite so innocent. Not quite, he knew, as naive as she had been. But she was still his girl. Deep down he knew that.

  “Here, little man,” he said to Eugene. “Go and sit with your brother so I can talk with your mother.”

  Eugene wobbled
to his feet, then joined Harry on Audrey’s other side. Danny took his place and wrapped his arm around Audrey. He looked into her eyes, searching for regret, searching for something that might take away the magic of this moment, but saw nothing but love.

  “We can do this,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “We can. We’ll be just fine.” He grinned. “It’ll be crowded at first, but we’ll get the house built eventually, and life will go on.”

  The water lapped at the hull and the captain ordered everyone down so he could come about. They all ducked and watched the big sails swing to the other side. Almost immediately, the wind filled the sails and pushed the boat faster up the shore.

  “Danny,” said Audrey. “I have a little surprise for you.”

  He grimaced. “Not sure I can handle too many more of your surprises.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “You’ll like this one.” She pulled a small purse from her bag and held it out to him. “I wasn’t sure when to give it to you, but now seems like a good time. Open it.”

  Frowning, he did as she said, then stared at its contents, suddenly dizzy. “What is this? Where did you—”

  “I sold the little necklace Pierre gave me.”

  Danny pulled out the money, savouring the feel of it in his fingers. He chuckled. “Nothing ‘little’ about that necklace.”

  “No, but he didn’t want it back.” She shrugged. “I thought we should use it ourselves. I reckoned it was only right. After all, he tore down our house in a way. Now he’s helping us build one.”

  Danny nodded, recognizing the scurry of his nerves as hope filled his heart. There was enough money here to make a good start on their new home. A very good start. They’d get building right away. He and his dad and his brothers, his wife—and his sons.

  It would be all right. Everything would be all right.

  “Look, Danny,” Audrey said. Her eyes were blue as the sky. She was pointing ahead, toward the rooftop of his family’s house where it peeked through the trees.

  The boys drooped against each other, exhausted. Well, they were about to wake up in a pretty big way. So were Danny’s parents. He grinned, imagining how they might react.

  When Audrey looked back, he kissed the tip of her nose, and her smile melted his heart. He grinned, knowing he was right. Everything would be fine. He kissed her again, then put his lips against her ear.

  “Welcome home, Audrey.”

  Acknowledgments

  Between 1914 and 1918, World War I claimed the lives of more than sixty-five thousand Canadians. Every year we commemorate their sacrifice, lest we forget.

  In one single day, December 6, 1917, the largest manmade explosion in history (until Hiroshima) killed more than sixteen hundred people in and around Halifax, Nova Scotia. Hundreds more were maimed, blinded, and left homeless in the middle of a frozen Canadian winter. I fear they have been mostly forgotten.

  My family and I moved from Alberta to Nova Scotia in 2008, when I was in my early forties. Until then, I had never heard of the Halifax Explosion. I only learned of it because the story popped up in books published locally and in a CBC production I’d never seen. At first I even thought the explosion was fictional. I did not remain ignorant. The history of that day—of that minute, really—blew a hole in my heart and left a permanent scar. Almost two thousand men, women, and children—not to mention all the animals—were blasted apart in the blink of an eye, and yet that day has, for the most part, been forgotten by the rest of the world.

  I dedicate this book to the memory of those people and their families, and to the Halifax of December 5, 1917, one day before the explosion. Life moves so quickly these days, and for them it was gone in a second. I also dedicate it to the determination and commitment of thousands of people who put their all into bringing Halifax back to life, though most of them are now gone.

  I also humbly dedicate this book to veterans of every conflict, especially to those suffering the vile effects of post-traumatic stress disorder. I wish you peace.

  Thank you to all the generous people living along the Eastern Shore who helped me learn about this area’s history and culture. In particular, I’d like to thank Harold Baker (Bakers Point Fisheries), Linda Fahie (fishermanslife.novascotia.ca), and Thea Wilson-Hammond (HeritageVillage.ca). I would also like to thank Annette Fulford (wwiwarbrides.shawwebspace.ca) for her help on researching Audrey.

  I’m so thrilled to be working with Simon & Schuster Canada and with my new editor, the wonderful Alison Clarke. Every time Alison sent me a question about this book, it felt as if she opened another window, and my story grew exponentially. Thank you also to the incredibly talented super author Susanna Kearsley, who read my novel Somewhere to Dream a couple of years ago. Based on that book she agreed to recommend me to Alison. Thank you both so much, ladies!

  As always, thank you to my fastidious and conscientious advocate and agent, Jacques de Spoelberch. I am so grateful to you for making your first foray into Canadian publishing on my behalf.

  Thank you to Nova Scotia author Jon Tattrie for letting Tommy Joyce hop briefly from his brilliant novel, Black Snow, onto the pages of Tides of Honour so he could help Danny along the way.

  Tides of Honour would not be the book it is today if not for Dwayne, my beloved husband of more than twenty years. He is my most demanding reader, and his insistence that I dig into the core of every story means I cannot rest on my laurels at any point. He loves me and understands me when I have trouble doing that for myself, and he is the reason I believe in true love. Thank you for being my happily ever after, Dwayne. Forever and ever.

  About the Author

  © Janice Bray

  Genevieve Graham graduated from the University of Toronto with a degree in music in 1986 and began writing in 2007. Her first three novels, Under the Same Sky, Sound of the Heart, and Somewhere to Dream, were international bestsellers. Graham is passionate about historical adventure, runs an editing business, and teaches piano. She lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Visit her at GenevieveGraham.com.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Interior design by Lewelin Polanco

  Cover design by Elizabeth Whitehead

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  ISBN 978-1-4767-9051-0

  ISBN 978-1-4767-9053-4 (ebook)

 

 

 
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