Working with wood seemed to help. Danny had perfected the technique of making picture frames, then gone on to build a new boat, with Johnny and the other boys as assistants. He often spent all day by the dock, sanding, painting, hammering. He even sold a small boat to a neighbour. When his hands were busy, Danny was happy. Sometimes Audrey sat with him, talking or painting or saying nothing at all. But occasionally he went out by himself and she left him alone, seeing the shadows loom behind his eyes. In those times she knew his mind had travelled back and landed in France. She tried comforting him during those dark hours, but he became someone she almost didn’t know. He turned from her, abrupt and cruel, his handsome face twisted with bitterness. If he spoke a word during those times, it was cold and impersonal.
Since she’d arrived, they’d looked after each other, making do as equals. The possibility of her making money tipped the scale.
Audrey wasn’t sure what to do. The truth was they could use the income.
“Danny?”
He looked up at her, and she saw the wound tearing through his spirit. She bled for him, wishing she could take his pain. The one thing she absolutely could not do was show him even a blink of pity. He would hate her for that.
“I’m going to go and help your mother with the washing-up. Would you like something to drink?”
He shook his head but offered the semblance of a smile. She took it and walked away. Mrs. Baker was waiting for her inside the house, and together the two women composed a letter of acceptance to Mrs. Hartlin.
A candle lit their room, flickering as the wind cut through tiny holes in the wall. Audrey had never known such gales in her entire life. This land seemed ruled by the wind. Some nights it shrieked against the wall so their bed shook, and she buried her face in her pillow, trying to prepare herself for the moment when the place blew down on their heads. Danny assured her they were safe, that the house had stood for decades through much worse than this. But that wind sometimes screamed in the worst way, sounding like a cross between the gulls that circled overhead most days and the terrified screams of children.
It howled again tonight, and she huddled under the blankets, waiting for Danny. The tone of the voices in the kitchen was subdued now that the children had gone to bed. She heard Mrs. Baker laugh once, but it was brief. Daniel Sr.’s voice rumbled, but she couldn’t make out what he said. Then she heard Danny say good night and shuffle down the hall toward her. Thump step thump step.
The bedroom door creaked open, and Danny stepped in. She had cut his hair the day before, and now one side stuck straight up. He had evidently been out in the wind. She watched him get ready, brushing his teeth, then sitting on the bed so he could peel off his shirt and trousers, pulling on the wool pyjamas she had sewn him for his birthday.
Sometimes, watching the lean lines of him lit by the hope of one candle, she remembered how strong he had been. She remembered him as a soldier, young and unharmed and crazy about her. Even after he lost his leg he had been a beautiful man, one she loved to touch and paint. Lately, though, sadness drained his body. It made him much older than he really was.
She didn’t say anything as he slid under the blankets. They lay in bed, and she felt all alone, staring up in the dark.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She turned her head on the pillow, surprised. His eyes still gazed at the ceiling. “What for?”
“For being rotten to you. I’m not myself these days. You know what? We sure do need the money. I’d be a fool to ask you not to do this. It’s more money than I could ever make. It’s just that, well . . .” He took a deep breath and set his chin as emotions surfaced. Audrey held back, knowing he needed to do this on his own. If she touched him he might stop. “I had such big dreams, you know? Before all this happened I could have—”
He stopped talking, and she felt his shoulder press against hers when he swallowed.
“You mustn’t give up, Danny. I love you, and I’ll do whatever you ask of me, but I can’t stand seeing you like this. Where is the light in your eyes? Where’s the smile that made me want to kiss you from the first moment I saw you?”
He didn’t say anything.
“We’ll think of something you can do, Danny. You just need to feel proud of yourself again.”
He rolled onto his side and cupped his fingers under her chin so she couldn’t look away. Not that she would have. She craved these kinds of conversations. She needed his voice, his words.
“You know, you are the best thing in my life, Audrey. You make me see things the way I should see them. I just have so many things in my head lately about how I’m letting you down. How I let everyone down. Everything has changed. Everything is so much harder than it was supposed to be.”
“I’ll always be here to help you,” she promised. “Always.”
He leaned toward her, and she met him halfway, kissing him gently until she felt the strength build between them. His hands slid the length of her body, his fingers strong on the places he’d come to know. He was hungry, and she fed him. She leaned into him, the trusting curl of her body showing him he was all the man he ever needed to be.
In the morning, Audrey got up to visit the outhouse then returned quietly to their room, not letting the door squeak. He was awake though, lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling’s wooden beams.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, sounding groggy. He stretched his arms over his head. “Sleep well?”
She wrinkled her nose and blushed. “You know I did.”
Audrey crossed the room and drew open the curtains, letting the sun stream into the room. He’d taken out her braid the night before, and now her curls tickled down her back, reaching for her waist. She wore a cotton nightdress, and she knew he could see the line of her body through its thin material, but it didn’t matter. It gave him pleasure to see her body, and all she wanted was for him to be happy. He smiled when she turned toward him, but when he stretched out a hand, she shook her head.
She climbed into the middle of the bed, sitting up so she could still see the view of the sparkling ocean outside the window, and set one hand gently on his stump. Not with curiosity but with a calm sort of possession. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Danny stiffened at her touch, embarrassed, and she felt his immediate urge to pull away. She’d expected the impulse, and she didn’t release him. It was so important that he feel what she was doing. Her fingers slid smoothly over the scars, holding him in place while he gripped the sheets.
“Audrey.” His hoarse whisper was urgent, pleading, but she didn’t say anything, just kept staring out at the sea, touching his leg.
Eventually the grip of his fingers on the bed relaxed slightly, and she put both of her hands on the rounded edge of what remained of his leg. She squeezed, gentle but firm, then started moving her thumbs in circular motions over the ugly lines.
From the corner of her eye she saw Danny’s eyes almost roll back in his head, and she imagined the waves of pleasure washing through him at her touch. Pain and relief all in one. She kept on, saying nothing but giving him peace as he’d never imagined.
Eventually he opened his eyes, and the calm behind them raised tears in her own.
“Why are you doing that?” His voice was hoarse.
“Do you like it?”
He sighed and closed his eyes as she massaged the forgotten muscle beneath his knee. “You have no idea how much I like it.” This time when his eyes opened, she saw pain. Not from what she was doing but from the hurt in his heart. “But you don’t have to. I mean, it’s pretty horrible just looking at the thing. It must make you ill, touching it like that.”
“You still don’t know me, do you, Danny?” she asked gently. “I want to give you pleasure. And touching you gives me pleasure as well. I see nothing horrible here. I’m touching a part of you, a part which never left you. It’s still your leg, and I
love every piece of you.”
“Fat lot of good it does me, this thing,” Danny said with a snort.
Her thumbs dug in a little deeper, and his eyes fluttered closed. “This is something small I can give you,” she said, needing him to understand. “I can take away the bad and give you the good for a while. If you had an entire leg, would I be able to give you this?”
“That’s a funny way to think of it.”
She shrugged. “I suppose. That’s how I think of it.”
For a moment he simply breathed and she imagined swirls of pleasure swooping through his mind like chickadees flitting from tree to tree. “Sure do love you, Audrey,” he whispered.
“I know,” she said with a smile.
Danny Baker
October 1917
TWENTY-ONE
October grabbed the mercury and squeezed it down to temperatures Danny knew well. The frozen air carved lines of ice which divided the harbour, the curves constantly drawn and redrawn by razor-edged winds. Gusts rattled the windows and roared through the trees until they hit the walls with a boom, shaking the foundations of the house.
Danny’s wife had never experienced a Canadian winter before. He saw the lines of worry on her face when they blew in hard, but he also saw her fine-boned jaw clench with determination. If everyone else was calm, she would be too.
She was stronger than he was in every way, and he envied her. She seemed to grow braver by the day, while Danny felt his courage crystallizing with the cold. He was a cripple. He would never be able to give her the world, which was what she deserved.
He lay awake for a long time, listening to her fall asleep. Hours later he awoke to darkness, the still of the air telling him morning was far away. Audrey lay awake beside him. He could tell by her breathing, though he could also tell she was trying very hard to be still.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I don’t mind. Are you okay?”
She rolled toward him, and he felt the pressure of her head against his arm, asking in. He lifted it so she could pass underneath and lay her head on his chest, then he lowered his arm so it fell across her side, pulling her closer, keeping her safe. She didn’t say anything for a while.
“Do you ever have trouble sleeping?” she asked.
Danny thought about all the nights when he never caught a wink. When his mind echoed with pounding guns and screams. When his memory showed him nothing but corpses he had been forced to use as stepping stones. When he first saw his leg, lying in the gore, six feet away from where it was supposed to be. How he reached for the leg in his dream. How it was never within his grasp.
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
“I do,” she said. “Sometimes I think I hear the cannons. Sometimes I dream of the planes, those big ugly planes that tore up the sky, and they’re circling down to chase me, but I have nowhere to run.”
“Is that what woke you tonight?”
She nodded slightly, and strands of her soft brown hair slid over his chest. “There were soldiers, and they shot you dead . . . but you weren’t really dead. You got up and tried to reach my hand, but we kept moving farther apart. Oh, Danny. It was awful. I was all alone.”
Her hair was soft against his chin, tickling it, and he kissed her brow. “You okay now?”
“I’m all right. I’m safe with you.”
Danny tightened his hold on her, but it was more to comfort himself than to reassure her. He wanted to keep her safe, sure. But he’d never admit to her how often he looked to her for stability, for sanity. She was wrong. It wasn’t he who kept her safe. It was she who kept them both alive.
He pressed his lips into her hair and stroked it as she began to doze. He saw the planes, the cannons, the soldiers, the guns, the blood, the oily smoke choking the air . . . and he saw the space between Audrey and him widening. He didn’t even try to sleep.
He had never meant to let his disappointment see the light of day. He didn’t want her to know. But it simmered so close to the surface sometimes, he wasn’t sure he could keep it under the lid. As much as he tried to control himself, sarcastic remarks and quick, unnecessary snarls had begun to spit out and sizzle in the air between them.
Most of the men nearby had gone off for the winter, headed into the backwoods to fell hardwood and sell it to the mill. It was a strange life the shoremen led: half a year in the water, half a year in the bush. Neither job worked for Danny anymore. These days he was useless at anything he’d ever done before.
When he awoke, Audrey was usually there, waiting for him. If he woke up feeling fine, he saw the love in her eyes. He knew deep down that she didn’t care if he had any limbs at all. Other times he was cool toward her, wallowing in self-pity, and she would curl up near him but give him room. She never went too far away.
Johnny had started bootlegging a few months back, and he’d made great money on the water while Danny lolled about being Audrey’s pet. He’d suggested the idea to Danny, but when he mentioned it to Audrey, it was obvious she didn’t like the idea. She was frightened by the stories she’d heard, about ships sinking or getting shot down. About Johnny’s friends who had ended up in jail. About men getting killed. And she was right to be afraid. But Danny’d had enough of feeling financially impotent. He was sick of standing back, watching their tiny coffer grow penny by penny without any help from him. He couldn’t fish, couldn’t trap. He could work with wood, but fishermen were suffering so much these days, no one could afford to buy a new boat. They patched their old ones up instead. Not that they’d buy one in the winter anyway.
And there was no damn way Danny was going to spend the rest of his life making frames for Audrey’s pretty pictures.
Johnny came to him one day with a different idea.
“There’s a big opening at the docks,” Johnny told him. Through his connections, Danny’s brother knew everyone who was anyone in Halifax. “It’s perfect for you and pays pretty well.”
Danny stared the gift horse in the eye. “Why hire me?”
“Because you’re my brother. Family’s important with these guys, and they trust me. That means they’re trusting you.”
Danny tilted his head and glared at Johnny, thinking it through. Yet another reversal in roles. He wasn’t particularly happy at having to depend on his younger brother, but deep down he was proud of Johnny. He’d grown up just fine and had friends in all the right places, friends who would stand up for him if they were needed. And so far Johnny’d avoided being sent off to Europe. He didn’t seem even remotely interested in the war. Why would he be? Johnny was making all the money he needed right here.
“What’s the job?”
“It’s at the docks, managing inventory. Watching shipments and keeping track, you know? Being the ears and eyes.”
“Just not the leg.”
“Right.”
“I’m in.”
Audrey wouldn’t be happy. She’d said she never wanted to move from the Eastern Shore. But Danny had no choice. He was treading water where he was, and he couldn’t keep his head above the tide for much longer. Maybe she wouldn’t be quite as upset when he told her he was on the docks instead of a rum-runner’s ship. But they’d still have to move to Halifax, which she didn’t want to do. She’d had her fill of city life in London. He understood that.
In the end, he figured out how to make her happy—or at least relatively happy. It was the art. Always the art.
“There are folks in the city who can afford to hire you on, Audrey,” he said one night. They lay in bed and she was snuggled up against him, warm and soft after their lovemaking.
“Oh?” she said. She yawned and tickled his chest with her fingernails, drawing figure eights around his nipples. Goosebumps rose over his body, and he let the sensation distract him.
“So you’d be at th
e docks, and I would paint? We could both make money?” She sounded vaguely pleased, as if she were rolling the thought around in her mouth, seeing how it tasted. “That sounds good. We could make enough money so we could come back here, right?”
He sighed. “You really don’t want to go?”
“Oh, Danny.” Her hand dropped flat on his chest. “You know I’ll go anywhere you ask. But I love it here by the sea. So quiet and beautiful.”
“But we need money, and I’m not making much. You’ve already painted for everyone out here. You need new customers. Rich ones.”
She smiled, but he read the warning in her eyes. “Don’t say we’re doing this for me, Danny. I’d rather live here with nothing than get rich in a dirty city.”
He knew she meant it, but his mind was already made up. He was so tired of feeling useless around his parents’ house. He wanted to build a home for the two of them but couldn’t afford the lumber. If he could only get some money, he could do whatever he wanted. He decided to play his last card. The one he knew was unfair for him to play.
“Oh, well. Maybe we won’t then. Schneider’s always looking for help with the rum-running.”
The minute the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said them. She would have gone anyway. He felt even worse when she shot him a furious look.
“You know I’d do anything to keep you off those foul boats,” she muttered.
“Good,” he said briskly, needing to change the subject. “Johnny’s friend Franco says he knows of a guy with a few houses to let, and maybe Johnny can bunk with us for a while.”
He didn’t like the bullying tone of his own voice, and he knew she didn’t either. But it had to be done. He’d had enough of heading upstream with a sieve as a paddle.
Tides of Honour Page 15