“I’m bringing my chocolate cream pie.”
“You’re not!”
“Sure am.”
It was easier to concede the point than to come up with a more difficult recipe she could make in time. “That pie is so good, Linda. You’ll put the rest of us to shame.”
When the next customer arrived, Linda got to her feet and shrugged into her coat.
“That’s my cue,” she said, fastening the buttons. “I better get going. See you tonight!”
The rest of the afternoon seemed to pass in a minute. The bell over the door never stopped ringing. Every customer wanted to talk about what they planned to wear and who might be there. Many blinked anxiously at the sky and fussed that there’d be too much snow, though it looked to Grace like it might stop soon.
Grace was fidgety too. She kept tucking her pin curls under her cap so they would be fresh for the dance, not limp from a busy day behind the counter. She knew she’d be exhausted by the time she finally hit the pillow that night, but as long as she could keep her eyes open it didn’t matter. Adrenaline, she hoped, would carry her through.
After she closed the store, Grace ran almost all the way home, surprised by her own eagerness. When was the last time she had felt excited about a dance? In the three years since the war started, she had come no closer to falling in love. She was bored with the boys there, tired of the endless cycle of taking fish from the sea, processing fish in the plant, delivering fish to the buyer. Fish, fish, fish. All these boys wanted was to be like their fathers: to fish, work lumber, pick up odd jobs, then fish again. What Grace wanted was something entirely different. She wanted something she could find only in magazines, or occasionally in radio shows. Something far, far from here.
Out of breath, she burst through the front door and closed it behind her, stomping snow off her boots.
“Is that you, Grace?” Her mother came around the corner. “I have bad news, I’m afraid.”
Grace stopped stomping. Her mother’s tone didn’t make it sound like terrible news, but still. “What’s happened?”
“Harry won’t be coming, I’m afraid. Too much snow in Halifax. The train’s waiting it out.”
“Oh no! Did Linda telephone you?”
“No. Her father was looking after the switchboard.”
“She’ll be awfully disappointed.”
“Poor dear. We all are.”
“At least the tracks should be clearer tomorrow. He’ll be home then.”
An hour before it was time to go, Grace sat in front of the mirror, finger combing her curls out. She loved the fat curl that flipped up from the bottom, loved the shine of her bangs when she rolled them tightly under. After she’d coated her hair with spray, she pulled out a new tube of lipstick and slid it over her lips. It matched her nail polish exactly, just like the catalogue had promised. The folds of her skirt were perfectly creased, the bright red bodice tight and flattering around her chest. She was as ready as she was going to get.
“My, you look lovely in that dress, Grace,” her mother said as she came downstairs. “The lipstick’s a bit much, but I suppose that’s what girls are wearing these days.”
She turned around, gave her mother the full view. Audrey lifted one eyebrow when she saw the line drawn down the back of Grace’s leg.
“It’s all the rage,” Grace explained.
“Don’t you have any nylons?”
“No, and there weren’t any in stock.” She shrugged. “Everyone’s doing it. Isn’t it stylish?”
“It’s . . . different.”
She knew that tone, and her heart tugged. She and Norman used to share a secret signal every time their mother spoke that way. She could almost see him standing there, wiggling an eyebrow at her while keeping one protective arm around their mother’s shoulders. He’d had a gift for keeping a straight face that Grace had always envied.
“You look pretty, Maman,” she said quickly. “Norman always loved that dress.”
Her mother ran her hands thoughtfully over the skirt. “I don’t get to wear it nearly often enough.”
Outside, her father started singing “Jingle Bells” in his warm baritone, and more voices joined in as their extended family arrived at the door. Her mother paused at Norman’s portrait in the hallway, then she walked outside. Grace was alone in the house. She stood a moment, studying her big brother, her heart aching.
“Won’t be the same without you there,” she whispered. “But I’m not going to cry.” She shook her head, jaw tight. “Nope. If you were here, you would want me to dance the night away, so that’s exactly what I plan to do.”
Still, she blinked a few times to clear her vision. Forcing a smile back in place, she joined the others already bundled in coats and blankets on the sleigh. It was a fine, clear night, and the stars seemed close enough to touch. A wonderful night to be alive. For just a little while, Grace did what she could to put the war and all its ugliness out of her mind.
The hall was just starting to fill with guests, and their eyes were as bright as the flames dancing on every lamp and candle. No one had installed electricity up this far yet, and it always made Grace feel a bit smug when she thought of her own house, with its electric lights and heaters. Here at the hall, though, the flickering lamps were cheerful and more than enough. A small band had set up at the front of the room, and the fiddle player was tuning his strings to the accordion. Grace wasn’t sure she knew any of the musicians, but a couple looked vaguely familiar.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Linda eased up beside her, setting her chocolate cream pie on the tablecloth right next to Grace’s cookies. She was beaming, looking everywhere at once. “So many people! Where’s your brother?”
“Harry’s not here. Too much snow in Halifax.” She scowled at her friend. “Quit pouting. At least he’ll be here for Christmas.”
“I’ve been writing him letters, you know.”
“What? Why, you’ve been keeping secrets from me! Does he write back?”
Linda’s grin was back, quick as the fiddler’s fingers as he started up a jig. “He sure does!” She spun away, laughing. “Oh well. Doesn’t matter that he’s not here. We’re gonna have a great time anyway. This place will be full of fellows wanting to dance with us!”
Music and conversation escalated as more guests arrived, and before too long Grace had to raise her voice to be heard. She didn’t mind. She hadn’t enjoyed anything this much in a long time. Some of the older folks started the dancing since the others were too busy talking and gawking to coordinate themselves. Grace and her mother stood with Linda, watching everything and everyone.
“What are the finest women in the room doing over here on their own?” her father asked, appearing beside them.
“We’re not alone anymore,” her mother said. “We have you.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Linda and I are a little thirsty, I think. We’ll leave you two.”
As she was walking away, she heard her father say, “C’mon, Audrey. Let’s dance.”
Grace might feign exasperation, but every time she saw her father show his romantic side it made her happy. From her spot beside the cider table, she watched her parents move together, enchanted by the sight. Her father’s missing leg gave him some trouble on the rocky shores, but here on the dance floor he seemed comfortable. He always stood tall, proud as a peacock when Maman was on his arm, and she gazed up at him, rapt as a young girl with her first crush. After more than twenty years of marriage, they still looked at each other that way, still recalled shared memories, still needed to touch each other for reassurance. That was what Grace wanted.
She surveyed the room, spotted a lot of the familiar boys from the area; some had come all the way from Musquodoboit Harbour or Sheet Harbour or places in-between. A group of young men Grace didn’t recognize stood in the back corner, out of the light. They seemed to be enjoying the desserts and the view. She was about to mention them to Linda when one of them approached her.
He was tal
l and sturdy with short golden hair and pale blue eyes, and at first Grace just stared. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He seemed a bit uncertain when he held out a hand in invitation, but she surprised herself by accepting it with barely any hesitation, and he led her onto the dance floor. Some of his steps were unfamiliar to her, but she caught on, determined not to embarrass herself. He was a marvelous dancer, smooth and confident, and his warm hand on her back eased her past any missteps. When she peeked up at him, he was smiling slightly, looking a bit like a movie star. She couldn’t help but blush. Who was this man?
The song came to an end far too soon, and everyone clapped for the band. Not knowing what to say or do, Grace started to turn away, but he touched her arm, then led her to the cider table, indicating to the woman that he wanted a glass for each of them.
“Thank you,” Grace said, taking a sip.
“You are welcome.” He had a nice voice. A little husky, which made it difficult to hear over the noise, so she leaned in a bit closer than would have made her mother happy.
“I haven’t seen you before. Where are you from?”
He answered, but she couldn’t hear what he said.
“Pardon me?”
“East of here.”
Lots of people lived “east of here.” She lifted her chin toward the back of the room. “You and your friends came down just for the dance?”
“Yes.”
Grace was used to the people around here, to the open conversations and sharing of gossip. She felt kind of clumsy around someone she didn’t know. She scanned the crowd, catching Linda’s eye. Her friend gave her a knowing look.
“You live here?”
His unexpected question startled her. “Me? Oh, yes. I live in East Jeddore.”
“With your husband?”
“What? No, no. I’m an old maid.”
“Old maid?”
“You know, old and not married.”
“But you are beautiful.”
Her cheeks burned. How should she react to such flirtatious remarks from a tall, handsome stranger? “Well, I—”
“She is, isn’t she?” Linda chimed in, stepping right into the conversation as she always did. Thank goodness for her friend, the switchboard girl. She always knew what to say. “It’s nice to see new people around here. Are you enjoying the party?”
He lifted one hand and rubbed the back of his neck, but his gentle expression didn’t falter as he adjusted to Linda’s bold manner. Nice big hands, Grace noticed. She kind of wished they were still dancing.
“Yes. Very good.”
“They’re from ‘east of here,’ ” Grace explained to her friend.
“Huh. Are you sailors?”
“Trapper,” he said quickly.
“Oh, well then, I’m sure you’ll find lots to talk about tonight. Loads of men like you around these parts. I’m glad you’re having fun.” She hooked her arm through Grace’s. “Would you excuse us? We have to go see someone.”
“Nice to meet you,” Grace said over her shoulder, letting Linda lead her away. She gave him her brightest smile. “Have a good night.”
He bowed slightly in reply, and something about the movement gave her a little thrill. Not enough to tempt her to run back, but enough to keep the flush on her face as she crossed the room.
“Your escort sent me over,” Linda muttered into her ear. She tugged her to the side of the room, but Grace was still watching her mysterious dance partner head back to his friends. He had a kind of swagger to his step, like Eugene did when he was particularly proud of something he’d done. Had dancing with her put that swagger into his step? She liked that thought.
“Grace?” Linda said, breaking through her reverie.
“Sorry. Wasn’t listening. Um, my escort?” she replied. “Who?”
“Tommy.” Linda pointed. “He’s over there. Surrounded by girls, as usual.”
Her cousin had become the centre of all the single women’s attention now that the other, older Baker men were married or overseas. He didn’t respond to it like they had, though. Tommy’s smile was strained, his hands deep in his pockets, and Grace felt bad for him. Since his dad had died three winters ago, Tommy’s favourite company was his own, and though he tried hard at these parties, she knew it was difficult for him.
“Poor fellow. Maybe I’ll go help him out.” She left her friend and crossed the room. “Hey, Tommy,” she said.
One corner of Tommy’s mouth curled up at the sight of her. “What’s buzzin’, cousin? You’re looking like a pin-up girl.”
“Sweet of you.” She set a hand on his shoulder. “Come dance with me.”
Tommy took her hand. “Say, who’s the fellow you were dancing with? Never seen him before.”
The group in the corner of the room was standing in a bunch, talking to each other. Her dance partner’s back was to her now.
“Says he’s a trapper. Not much of a talker.”
“Hmm. Maybe his friends are.”
Nerves skittered down her neck at the thought of approaching them. “Well, I’m not going to go over and find out.”
“Maybe I will.”
That made her laugh. “What? You’re going to start up a conversation on purpose? What has gotten into you, my shy cousin?”
“I’m curious. You don’t normally see a group of young guys like that—fighting age, I’d call them—showing up out of nowhere.”
“You’ve been reading too many spy books. Have you read the latest by Helen MacInnes?”
“Assignment in Brittany? Sure. You?”
“No, can I borrow yours?”
“Anytime.”
The party continued well into the night. Everyone danced, laughed, and ate until they all were fit to burst. Tommy never did go over to the group in the corner, but Grace couldn’t help peeking over at the young man every once in a while. His eyes would meet hers and they both would smile shyly, then look away, but as the party continued they grew slightly bolder.
She lost sight of him and his friends when the organizing committee politely began to usher guests out the door. She figured he’d head back east right away, and she’d probably never see him again. She would have liked a few minutes more, a second dance perhaps, just to see if they could hold a real conversation away from all the noise.
“Come on, slowpoke,” Tommy said, nudging her on his way past. “Grab your coat. I’m gonna get the sleigh ready.”
With a sigh, she headed to the cloakroom. “That’s mine over there,” she told the young girl behind the counter. “The brown one with the tartan scarf. See?”
While she waited, Grace scanned the crowd one last time. A moment later, she felt a touch on her shoulder. Her heart gave a little leap when she saw the young man waiting behind her, holding out her coat.
“Oh! Thank you.” She slipped her arms into the sleeves, then reached for her scarf. “I hope you had a good evening,” she managed.
“Very good.”
They were each waiting for the other to say something more, but Grace couldn’t think of anything except, “Well, it was nice meeting you.”
So much for a real conversation.
But as she stepped outside, he stayed with her. His friends stood apart from the crowd coming out of the dance hall, waiting for him, she assumed. The tips of their cigarettes blinked like orange fireflies in the dark.
Linda shuffled from one foot to the other at Grace’s side, and Tommy joined them after he’d hitched up the sleigh.
“Ready when you are, cousin,” he said.
“In a minute,” Grace told him, stalling.
“Did you have fun?” Linda asked the stranger. “You looked like you did.”
“You see me?”
Linda waved a hand as if it were nothing. “I see everything.”
The corner of Tommy’s mouth twitched, and he focused on the man in their midst. “So you’re a trapper, huh? Catching many martens?”
“Sorry?”
“Martens.
You know. Them and mink.” Tommy crossed his arms. “Should be a lot of them around here. They like to hunt squirrels, and we sure have enough of those. The general store’ll buy ’em up if you’re looking for a place to sell.”
He blinked at Tommy.
No one said anything for a moment, then Tommy asked, “So are you selling?”
“Tommy!” Grace snapped, embarrassed at the cross-examination. “Don’t be rude.”
“Sorry?” the man asked again.
“Looking for a place to sell the furs?”
“Uh, no. Thank you.”
This was beyond uncomfortable, Grace thought. She pressed Linda’s arm purposefully, and her friend caught her signal. She waved towards the group of men who were obviously trying to get the young man’s attention.
“Looks like your friends want to go.”
“They can wait,” he said, watching Grace. “Want to walk?”
The invitation set Grace’s heartbeat racing. “Well, I—”
Linda elbowed her hard, bringing her back to reality. No matter how attractive he was, no matter how much she was tempted, the plain truth was she’d just met him. She couldn’t go marching around the frozen woods with a tall, handsome stranger.
“Um, I don’t think so. We’re going home now. Thanks again for the dance.” She put her hand on her lapel. “And for my coat.”
“Short walk?”
Tommy stepped in then. “She said no.”
Grace was mortified. “I’m sorry. It’s late. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Time to go,” one of the friends called.
“Yes,” he replied, stepping back. He tugged his black cap on and held up a hand in farewell. “Good night.”
As they walked away, Tommy asked, “Where’s their sleigh?”
“Don’t know,” Grace said. “Maybe farther up the road.” She hoped she was right. If she was, the Bakers would pass them on the way.
“I don’t know about him,” Linda said quietly, her teeth chattering with the cold. “He was kind of pushy, and he didn’t even tell you his name.”
“I didn’t tell him mine, either.”
“Linda’s right,” Tommy said. “Something about him makes me suspicious.”
Come from Away Page 3
