post office was closed, and poor Margaret would have to go another day without the picture.
Lily sighed. “I’ll teach you to swim, Albert. We’ll go over to the bay now, and I’ll figure out how to get money before tomorrow.”
“Not the bay,” he said, “the ocean.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I do not know what that means, ‘ridiculous.’ ”
She narrowed her eyes. He knew very well what it meant. “You can’t learn to swim in that rough water.”
He reached forward to grab her arm. “Do you know that Ruth is waiting for me? Do you know that summer will be over and I will have to go back to Canada . . .”
She nodded. “I’ll have to go back to St. Albans, and Sister Benedicta in the sixth grade.”
“Please.” He was holding her arm so hard now she could feel each one of his fingers tightening around it. His eyes were so blue, and she knew it was never going to happen the way he wanted, and it was all her fault . . . all because of her wild stories.
“Oh yes, Lily. I will learn to swim, and you will row.”
She stuck out her lower lip. “If you want to learn, it’ll be faster in the bay. And that’s my final offer.”
“I do not know what that means,” he said.
“You don’t have to.” She unwrapped his hand from her arm and scrambled to her feet. “I’m going to put Eddie’s picture back in the living room now, and then I’m going to the bay to swim. If you want to come with me, fine. If not, too bad.”
She marched into the living room and dusted the end table with her arm. She thought of Eddie on a beach in Normandy. She’d seen newspaper pictures: Nazi pillboxes set into the rocks, firing; soldiers in the sand, some of them dead, everything confused. They had to get off the beaches before they could begin to free the French cities.
Lily put Eddie’s picture on the table and ran her fingers over his face. “Be just a little lost,” she whispered. He was smiling in the picture, and she could remember him smiling the same way when she had met him coming out of the movie, or at Mrs. Sherman’s, or on the way to church. She wondered if he could count as a friend even though he was much older. “What do you think, Eddie?” she asked.
“Ruth talks to herself all the time,” Albert said.
Lily marched past him and out the door. “Are you coming?”
Albert looked up at the ceiling, blinking, trying to decide.
At the same moment, Paprika darted between their legs and out the door.
Albert reached for her, and so did Lily.
She was halfway down the path before they caught up. “She’s growing,” Lily said, scooping the cat into her arms and bringing her into the house.
Albert nodded. “I could bring her back to Canada, I think.”
“Good,” Lily said.
“But I am not going back to Canada,” Albert said. “Remember? I am going to Europe.”
“And I’m going to the bay,” Lily said.
“I guess I will come too,” he said.
Lily didn’t answer. She marched out the door, taking a deep breath.
Chapter 19
L ily had dreamed about Margaret, and Eddie too, but when she awoke, she couldn’t remember much more than that. She knew she had been crying in the dream. She was still crying when she opened her eyes.
Gram was standing next to her bed. “It was only a dream, Lily,” she said.
Lily leaned up on one arm. Poppy had been in the dream, and Ruth, but Lily hadn’t seen her face, just her hair, dark and shiny like Albert’s, and there was something about Madeline, the book Madeline.
Gram sat down on the edge of the bed. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Things are never going to be the same,” she said. “Not even when the war is over. Albert might not have his grandmother. He might not have Ruth.”
“Everything is so confused over there. A flood of people have come from the rest of Europe, soldiers . . .” Gram sighed. “If our army can get across France, if they can liberate Paris, then maybe someone can get to Ruth.” She
Lily sighed. “I’ll teach you to swim, Albert. We’ll go over to the bay now, and I’ll figure out how to get money before tomorrow.”
“Not the bay,” he said, “the ocean.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I do not know what that means, ‘ridiculous.’ ”
She narrowed her eyes. He knew very well what it meant. “You can’t learn to swim in that rough water.”
He reached forward to grab her arm. “Do you know that Ruth is waiting for me? Do you know that summer will be over and I will have to go back to Canada . . .”
She nodded. “I’ll have to go back to St. Albans, and Sister Benedicta in the sixth grade.”
“Please.” He was holding her arm so hard now she could feel each one of his fingers tightening around it. His eyes were so blue, and she knew it was never going to happen the way he wanted, and it was all her fault . . . all because of her wild stories.
“Oh yes, Lily. I will learn to swim, and you will row.”
She stuck out her lower lip. “If you want to learn, it’ll be faster in the bay. And that’s my final offer.”
“I do not know what that means,” he said.
“You don’t have to.” She unwrapped his hand from her arm and scrambled to her feet. “I’m going to put Eddie’s picture back in the living room now, and then I’m going to the bay to swim. If you want to come with me, fine. If not, too bad.”
She marched into the living room and dusted the end table with her arm. She thought of Eddie on a beach in Normandy. She’d seen newspaper pictures: Nazi pillboxes set into the rocks, firing; soldiers in the sand, some of them dead, everything confused. They had to get off the beaches before they could begin to free the French cities.
Lily put Eddie’s picture on the table and ran her fingers over his face. “Be just a little lost,” she whispered. He was smiling in the picture, and she could remember him smiling the same way when she had met him coming out of the movie, or at Mrs. Sherman’s, or on the way to church. She wondered if he could count as a friend even though he was much older. “What do you think, Eddie?” she asked.
“Ruth talks to herself all the time,” Albert said.
Lily marched past him and out the door. “Are you coming?”
Albert looked up at the ceiling, blinking, trying to decide.
At the same moment, Paprika darted between their legs and out the door.
Albert reached for her, and so did Lily.
She was halfway down the path before they caught up. “She’s growing,” Lily said, scooping the cat into her arms and bringing her into the house.
Albert nodded. “I could bring her back to Canada, I think.”
“Good,” Lily said.
“But I am not going back to Canada,” Albert said. “Remember? I am going to Europe.”
“And I’m going to the bay,” Lily said.
“I guess I will come too,” he said.
Lily didn’t answer. She marched out the door, taking a deep breath.
Chapter 19
L ily had dreamed about Margaret, and Eddie too, but when she awoke, she couldn’t remember much more than that. She knew she had been crying in the dream. She was still crying when she opened her eyes.
Gram was standing next to her bed. “It was only a dream, Lily,” she said.
Lily leaned up on one arm. Poppy had been in the dream, and Ruth, but Lily hadn’t seen her face, just her hair, dark and shiny like Albert’s, and there was something about Madeline, the book Madeline.
Gram sat down on the edge of the bed. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Things are never going to be the same,” she said. “Not even when the war is over. Albert might not have his grandmother. He might not have Ruth.”
“Everything is so confused over there. A flood of people have come from the rest of Europe, soldiers . . .” Gram sighed. “If our army can get across France, if they can liberate Paris, then maybe someone can get to Ruth.” She
Similar Books
