Come from Away

by Genevieve Graham

  Eugene put an arm around her as they headed back to the sitting room. “Maybe she’ll behave.”

  “Has she ever?”

  “How did that go?” Danny asked as they came back in the room.

  From his expression, Grace figured he’d overheard some of the conversation. She pressed her lips together. “She’s angry. She’s not thinking straight and she’s threatening to accuse . . . Adam of being a German spy.”

  “She seemed set on it, from what I heard,” Eugene agreed. “Not sure a train could stop her.”

  “Maybe not a train, but I think I know what might.” Danny faced his old friend Uncle Mick. “Hey, newspaperman, I have a story for you.”

  Grace’s jaw dropped. “Dad!”

  “I wondered if you might do this,” Audrey said.

  Uncle Mick settled into his chair, lit a cigar. “Is that so? Just like the old days, huh?”

  “Yep, but you might have to fudge a couple of things,” Danny said.

  Mick’s mouth twisted to the side. “Just a couple?”

  Grace sat back, surprised to hear her father launch into Rudi’s story, beginning with the explosion at Borgles Island and ending with Adam’s resurrection.

  “I see,” Mick said, blowing smoke rings. “So . . . the way I see it, the story starts when Adam saves Tommy. Off the record, we’re saying there never really was a Rudi, right?”

  “That’s right. The story’s true. It’s just that we need to reduce the two main characters to one.”

  “Okay, okay. Let’s make sure I have all this straight,” Mick said, setting his cigar in an ashtray. He leaned forwards, checked his notes. “Adam Neumann came to Borgles Island with his parents when he was just a kid. We know that’s true because we have his birth certificate as proof. When the U-boat exploded in December, it killed Adam’s parents and everyone on the ship. Right so far? But it all worked out, because after they died he decided he’d had enough of the island, and he went to the cabin at Abbecombec. There he rescued Tommy, and he’s now joined your community as a hard worker. He may be a German, but he’s also a hero. That’s what you’re saying, in a nutshell.” He tilted his head towards the telephone. “And that?”

  “Is the only person threatening to blow the story apart.”

  “It’s not really her fault. She loves Harry,” Grace explained. “And this war, I mean, it’s so easy to just take sides and not think straight. For the longest time I believed all Germans were bad, and I’m ashamed of how I saw them as monsters instead of people. But I’m not the only one, am I? I mean, it’s in all the newspapers and on the radio, isn’t it? How they’re the bad guys no matter what. Really, they’re just men doing their duty like Harry was doing.”

  “True enough,” Mick agreed.

  “Oh, and off the record, Rudi—or rather, Adam,” Danny corrected himself, “says he’s done with fighting. He was right in there with the rest of them, but he’s done now.”

  Uncle Mick tipped an imaginary hat at Grace. “All for the love of a pretty girl, sounds like.”

  Grace blushed, but she didn’t deny it.

  Her father shook his head. “No, I think it’s because he enjoys working for me so much. I still can’t understand why you didn’t want to come up and work at the plant, Mick. I did offer you a job, as you recall.”

  Mick took a puff of his cigar and released its fragrant smoke. “I know you did. I just can’t imagine why I wouldn’t give all this up to live in fish stink.”

  “The offer stands.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Mick rolled the cigar thoughtfully between his fingers. “So Danny, this Rudi guy. He’s the real deal? You believe in him this much?”

  “I do. We all do. Wouldn’t ask you if we didn’t.”

  Grace watched Mick intently. Her uncle was a well-respected man here in Halifax, and he had a reputation to protect, but Grace knew he and her father went way, way back. What had they survived together in those vile trenches? What would he do for a friend after all this time?

  “I’m going to go put some more coffee on,” Mick said, rising slowly from his seat. “Looks like I have a story to write. I might be up a few hours. Way past your bedtime, anyway. You all just tuck in and I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  Rudi

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Grace had left for Halifax a week ago, and in that time spring had arrived. The fishing boats were out in full force, and the plant was getting busier. Rudi was comfortable working there now, and just as he’d hoped, the other workers barely paid him any attention. He had told them a short story about growing up on Borgles Island, but other than that he didn’t speak much. If they came up with too many questions, Rudi tended to conveniently forget English, which proved frustrating enough that they gave up.

  From what Rudi knew, the trip to Halifax was going well. Grace had telephoned him to say that Harry was going to be all right, and the whole family hoped to be home soon.

  It was almost closing time at the plant, and Rudi was cleaning up when Linda arrived. She strode into the building as if she belonged there and rooted herself in front of him. Before he could say anything, she started talking.

  “I would like to speak with you,” she said, her voice as cold as ice.

  “I finish here, then—”

  “Now.” She peered over his shoulder at one of the others. “Can I take him?”

  The other worker shrugged.

  “Good. Come with me. Now.”

  She practically ran across the yard to the barn and he followed, unsure what to think. When she pointed at an old bench, indicating she wanted him to sit, he did.

  She didn’t. She stood before him, arms crossed. “I don’t want you here.”

  “I am sorry. Why you are angry?”

  “I have lived here my whole life, and I know everyone and everything that goes on here. This is where I will spend the rest of my life, this is where I will raise my family. Nothing is going to stop me from doing that.”

  He comprehended the words but not entirely the meaning or her tone. “I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do. Let me explain. You are, no matter what you say, German. Your country is at war with my country. You may be pulling the wool over my friends’ eyes, but you don’t fool me. You and I are enemies. Do you understand that?”

  “This . . . is not true,” he said warily.

  “Oh, yes it is. I don’t know where you’ve been since 1939, but it’s most definitely true. In case you missed it, we are at war, Mr. Nazi.”

  “Of course is war,” he said, “but I am not enemy, and I am not Nazi.”

  She took a long step forwards so her face was right in his. “Stop lying to me. You’re not some harmless come from away. A strong, healthy German man like you didn’t just come from some island. I’d bet my last dollar you’re a Nazi spy, and I do not want you here. If it weren’t for men like you there would be no war. There would be no innocent young Canadians coming home with their head shot or their leg blown off. There would be no innocent young Canadians bundled up in blankets, afraid to go to sleep at night. You, Adam, are the enemy, and I do not want you here.”

  Rudi had never heard a woman speak this way. She was more frightening than any commander he’d had to face before. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “Well?” She folded her arms. “Do you have anything to say?”

  “I . . . I do not know how to answer. I tell you I am not Nazi. I am not making fight or hurting anyone.”

  “Maybe not right now, but I bet you’ve ‘made fight’ with lots of men before. Killed a bunch, too.”

  How was this happening? Everything had been going so well. “I do not—”

  “I am warning you: I am going to report you. I will call the police and the navy and the newspaper, and I will personally speak with everyone on my switchboard, which includes practically the whole Eastern Shore. If you are smart, you will listen to what I am saying.” She waved her hands at the ground as if she were scattering hens. “
Go, German. Scram. Get lost.”

  He got to his feet. “No, Linda! I am not going. I am with Baker family, and we are friends. You cannot—”

  “Yes, I can!” she shrieked. “And I will!”

  The crackling sound of gravel under tires came from the road, and they both looked to the approaching car. When she turned back to Rudi, her cheeks were flushed.

  “Good. Harry’s finally back where he should be. Now’s your chance to disappear.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Go away and stay away. And if you ever come back I will tell everyone who you really are, Nazi.”

  Then she turned and ran to the car, waving her arms in the air, leaving Rudi behind.

  He let out a long breath. He was so tired of this. How many times did he have to excuse the man he had been? Beg forgiveness for things he’d been ordered to do, and even for things he hadn’t done? Maybe he should just do what she said, follow through with what he’d considered doing before: lose himself in the woods, become just as much of a hermit as the real Adam had been.

  He stood at the far end of the yard and watched as the black metal doors of the car creaked open and the small, cheering crowd parted as if they welcomed royalty. Harry’s head was bandaged, but Rudi could see his happiness even from this far away. He wished he could go closer and welcome him home, but he knew he didn’t belong in their excited circle. This was yet another son coming home, wounded while fighting a war against Rudi’s country. Worse, this one had been hurt by the very machine in which Rudi had first arrived at this place.

  Then Grace stepped from the car, and his heart soared. The longing he felt was something entirely new, and it hurt like nothing ever had. She was laughing about something, her black curls bouncing around her shoulders. If he was closer, would she smile for him? Reach out her hand so he might take it?

  But he wasn’t closer. And he wasn’t welcome. Linda had made that perfectly clear. He turned away and started up the hill to where Grace’s great-grandparents’ abandoned house stood. The last time he’d been here, Linda had come, had spotted him with Grace. But before that, the place had felt almost magical.

  “Rudi!”

  He whirled around. “Grace! You are all right?”

  Her cheeks were bright and she was out of breath. “Are you all right? I . . . I just saw Linda, and I . . .”

  He looked away.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t listen to her. Please. She had no right to even speak to you.”

  It felt good, hearing her defend him, but he didn’t think what she was saying was true. “It is okay.”

  “No, it isn’t.” When they reached the top of the hill she sat on the grass, indicating that he should as well. As soon as he did, her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry she bothered you. None of this should be happening. Why can’t everything just be easy? Why couldn’t you just be a regular guy that I’m crazy about?”

  Some of his old confidence returned at that. “Maybe if I am regular guy, you are not crazy about me.”

  That made her smile.

  But Linda’s words came back to him, and he shook his head. “I am who is sorry, Grace. You and your father are right when you tell me before. Is complicated,” he reminded her sadly. “To be Adam is too much work.”

  “Not for long.” She dug in the bag at her side and pulled out a folded newspaper. “I brought this for you.”

  “What is this?”

  “Just read it. I can help if you need.”

  The bold headline grabbed him from the start: “A Hero of Different Stripes: Adam Neumann, the Mysterious German Recluse Who Saved a Local Man’s Life.”

  He looked at her, stunned. “What is this?”

  “My uncle Mick wrote it. Do you remember that time I showed you the article he’d written in the Herald? Well, this time he wrote a story about you.” She put a hand on his forearm. “Soon everyone who reads this will know who you really are, Adam Neumann.”

  The newspaper type was small, the words mostly impossible to read, but he stumbled doggedly over them. And what he read was too wonderful to believe. When he went through it a second time, he pointed out specific words so Grace could translate for him.

  “You see what I mean?” she asked when he’d finished. “After this article, nobody’s ever going to accuse you of being a Nazi, and they won’t accuse us of breaking the law.”

  This changed everything. He took a deep breath. Took another because he couldn’t seem to catch the first one.

  “You are wrong before, Grace Baker. You say is complicated, you and me, but is not. It is easy.” He set his palm against her cheek. “I like you very much, Grace. Very much.”

  She leaned against his hand. “I always wanted to trust you, Rudi. It just took me a while to figure out that you deserved that trust. I understand it now.” She blinked through tears. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  The wind jostled her curls and he couldn’t resist tucking one under her hat. “I am not lying to you. Never.”

  “Say, ‘I will never lie to you, Grace.’ ”

  Against her pure black eyebrows and the windburned red of her skin, her eyes were like blue crystals, sparkling in the late-day sunlight. He thought he would very much like to buy her a ring someday. One set with exactly that same coloured gem.

  “I will never lie to you, Grace.”

  “I will never lie to you, either.”

  She leaned towards him, and he was there. Her lips were warm and soft, her breath fragile as a butterfly’s wing, but the kiss they shared carried a strength that was like nothing he’d ever felt before. She was here, she was his, and he knew in that moment he wanted nothing more than to be with her for the rest of his life.

  “In German,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing little circles on the soft skin of her cheek, “this is ein Kuss.”

  “Ein Kuss,” she repeated, and he felt the feathery touch of her breath on his lips. “I call it something else. I call it a promise.”

  She was the most wonderful girl in the world. “Come. I promise you again.”

  When they drew apart this time, her expression was serious. “You know what this newspaper article means?”

  “Tell me.”

  “It means you don’t have to go back to Germany.”

  He smiled against her lips. “I know this, yes.”

  “You can stay with me.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am staying with you, Grace.” Why should he ever leave? He was home.

  EPILOGUE

  June 1945

  “Why are they building a new house, Auntie Grace?”

  The hammering had been going on all week, punctuated by men’s voices and the wub-wub of an occasional saw. They were getting as much done as they could while the weather was good.

  “You know why, Joyce. Can you please hand me your daddy’s shirt?”

  “This?”

  “Thank you.”

  Grace clipped Norman’s shirt to the line, then reached down for her niece’s next offering.

  “Put Benny’s next, okay? Beside Daddy’s.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Grace agreed, chuckling at the contrast between baby Benny’s tiny shirt and her brother’s. “What’s the difference, Joyce?”

  The little girl’s freckly face lit up at the challenge. She looked so much like her father. A stubby finger pointed at one shirt, then the other. “That is big and blue. That is small and white.”

  “Good girl. How many shirts have we hung today?”

  Joyce spun on her heel and scampered back to the beginning of the line. “Pants too, Auntie Grace? How many pants?”

  Grace took a clothespin from her mouth, finishing up with the socks. “Nope. Just shirts. You can count the pants after.”

  “Okay! One . . . two . . . three—” She got to three before she remembered her initial question. “How come Uncle Adam’s building a new house?”

  “You know why,” Grace repeated, smiling as she remembered.
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br />   Rudi’s request that she meet him in the barn that night had been an odd one. They usually met there anyway. Ever since the generator’s restoration, the barn had become “their” place, a spot where they went whenever they wanted to be alone. His expression had been both charming and difficult to read, and she’d been intrigued.

  That night she’d stepped inside the barn and everything looked different. Rudi had brought two chairs from the house and set them around a crate, which had been covered with her mother’s lace tablecloth. Two places were set for dinner, and a candle flickered between them. She turned to him, thrilled by the surprise, then realized he had dropped to one knee. She caught her breath, and her lips formed around his name, but she couldn’t speak.

  “Heirate mich, Grace,” he said, his voice deep and sincere. “Ich liebe dich. Ich glaube, ich habe dich immer geliebt immer.” He held up his hands, and she set her trembling fingers on top. The candlelight caught her tears, blurring her vision, but his face, open and honest and certain, was all she needed to see. “Marry me, Grace,” he translated, his English confident. “I love you. I think I always have.”

  The memory was so perfect she hoped it would never fade, but it almost didn’t matter. He constantly did things to please her in some way or another. Rudi was funny and romantic and determined to do his best at everything, including loving her.

  Grace shaded her eyes and looked up the hill, admiring the day’s progress. It was odd seeing the rough sawn lumber in the same place where her great-grandparents’ ancient house had stood for so many years. It had been bittersweet to take the old place down, but everyone agreed it wasn’t sturdy enough to fix. And since it stood in her favourite place, Rudi had decided he wanted to build their house there. They’d kept the foundation, but that was all. They’d put down new floor joists, insulation, planks, and walls, and now they were starting to work on wiring. Grace understood little about the process, but Rudi enjoyed every step of it.

  From where she stood now she could see the construction crew, hear bits of their comfortable conversation. She knew her father had gone to the lumber mill with Tommy that day, and she was surprised to see they weren’t back yet. She hoped that didn’t mean they’d messed up the rafter order again.