Tides of Honour (11 page)

EIGHTEEN

They got married two weeks
later under a thick green umbrella of oak leaves, and every day leading up to their wedding was spent in anticipation. When Danny wasn't working, he was by Audrey's side, holding her hand, listening to her stories and telling his own. He kissed her in the morning, kissed her at night, kissed her any time he could get her alone. She asked endless questions about anything at all, but never once about the war, and he knew she was only waiting for him to tell her in his own time. He would tell her one day. Not yet, though. He needed this time so he could feel better about everything. Right now she was life to him, a sun that dazzled over everything else. He didn't want to talk about death.

She told him about England, about the stink of the factories that hung over everything, clinging to her nose, her lungs. The way she spoke was the way she moved a paintbrush, and he clearly saw the way she and the other women had lived, stuffed into their bunks at night like salted fish in a bucket, sleeping like the dead. She raved about the suffragette women and their exciting plans, insisting on possibilities even when he shook his head and called them hopeless optimists.

Audrey loved her new country: the quiet colours of the ocean
on a peaceful day, the calm, rolling sound it made as it reached toward the shore. When storms rolled in, her eyes flashed with the lightning, and she drew closer to him with the the thrill of the wind, the crash and rumble of an angry sea. True to her promise, she was a hard worker, pitching in with anything that needed doing. Danny watched her learn, picking up new ways of doing things, and he admired Audrey's quiet, occasional suggestions to his mother. It was obvious from the start that the two would get along well. It hadn't really been a worry, but it was a relief.

On the day of the ceremony, Danny's mother flitted like a hummingbird, wanting everything perfect for her first son's wedding. She was in her element pulling the event together. It was a beautiful July afternoon, and while great maples and birches stretched over the party, providing much-needed shade, just enough breeze kept the mosquitoes off. The sun sparkled on the still harbour, and songs rose from within the forest: birds and bugs enjoying the day. All the neighbours were invited; some brought fiddles, one even brought a set of bagpipes. Everyone brought food. The folk of the Eastern Shore were always looking for reason to celebrate, and Danny's wedding was more than enough.

The newly married couple weren't hungry. They stood off to the side for most of the day, accepting congratulations and best wishes, but mostly speaking quietly to each other, celebrating in their own way. When the sun set, the party continued, but no one expected the newlyweds to stay. As Danny led Audrey into the house, he laughed off an appropriate amount of teasing, especially from his brothers and friends. The younger boys were just as loud in their catcalls but had no idea what they were saying. Danny didn't mind. As long as no one said anything derogatory about his sweet new wife, everything was good.

The new room was small but large enough for a double bed and a dresser and enough space to move easily around the sides
of the bed. Danny's dream was to construct an entire house elsewhere on the property, but he would need to make money if he was going to be able to afford that. He'd built the dresser as a wedding gift for Audrey, even added the luxury of a large mirror on top. Audrey had sewn green striped curtains for the window, and she had drawn them closed.

“Come to bed, Mrs. Baker?” Danny asked, stepping into the room.

From the hallway, Audrey smiled into the dark, a soft look in her eyes that he wanted to see better. He lit an oil lamp so the room warmed with a dim, gold glow, then he stood back toward the window when she came in. She latched the door softly behind her, then leaned against it, her hands behind her back. Neither said a word, only stared at the other. Outside, the sounds of laughter continued, a fiddle started up, accompanied by a whoop as dancing began.

“Are you scared of this, Audrey?”

“I think so,” she said quietly. “I feel strange.”

“Me too,” he said, then gave her a crooked smile. “Not sure how it'll go when I only have one leg to balance on.”

She stepped toward him, since they'd found it was easier for her to come to him than the other way around. She stopped halfway across the room and looked pointedly at the floor, fidgeting with the folds of her skirt as she'd done on that first morning after she'd arrived. He had thought she was beautiful then, but now she took his breath away. She had made her own wedding gown—a pale blue skirt that touched the ground under a modest bodice—modelling it after photographs she had seen in a catalogue. It was a practical dress, one she would wear after her wedding day as an everyday dress. For now, though, it was a special dress, and Danny could tell she was afraid to take it off.

Danny's mother had tied Audrey's hair on top of her head,
then decorated any stray curls with a matching blue ribbon. He was used to seeing her hair down, bouncing around her shoulders. Her neck looked soft and vulnerable like this, and he wanted to curl his fingers around the back of it.

Danny had worn the peg through the day, using it mostly to fill in the pant leg and keep the curious neighbours' focus off him. He ached to take it off, but he would have to remove his trousers in order to do that. Neither of them had moved yet in that regard. Obviously someone was going to have to start taking off clothing.

He stepped closer to her, and she looked up, her eyes searching his. When they were a foot apart, he stopped and did what he'd wanted to do all day, circling the back of her neck with his fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned against his hand, and he pulled her to him.

They kissed slowly, tasting this new person that was their spouse.
For better or for worse.
She felt warm against him, and a thrill ran down his body with the knowledge that she was entirely his.
In sickness and in health.
That he could touch her and make love to her as he had dreamed, and it would be just fine in the sight of God.
For as long as we both shall live.
His other hand slid down her back, travelling along the line of buttons—he counted eight—that fastened the gown from neck to waist.

“Can I help you with your gown?” he whispered.

“I'm scared, Danny.”

“No need, Audrey. I won't let nothing hurt you. Ever.”

Her forehead creased suddenly, and just as quickly her eyes filled with tears.

“What is it?”

She swallowed hard and blinked. A lone tear dropped. “Promise me, Danny? Promise you will never, never, never leave me.” Her eyes moved between his, searching. “Please, Danny. I would die.”

He took her face in his hands and felt his own eyes tickle with tears. “Never be afraid, Audrey. You're my world. I'm nothin' without you.”

“Don't leave me,” she whispered again.

Her desperation grabbed at his breath, and he shook his head slowly. He needed her to understand. She was everything. Without her, well, he couldn't even imagine the possibility anymore.

“I won't. Please, Audrey. You gotta know. I'll never, ever leave you.”

Mrs. Audrey Baker

August 1917

NINETEEN

It had never taken Audrey
long to make friends in the past. Trouble was, there weren't that many people for her to meet in such a small area. So once in a while Danny took her for a walk down what passed for a road around Jeddore, bringing her around to meet more of his relatives. It wasn't something he did often, because the wear of the crutch under his arm was so painful. She knew he didn't want her to see that he suffered, but late at night, when they settled into their bed, she saw the redness, the bruising and blisters, and she felt immediately sorry that she'd dragged him so far.

But Audrey had a thirsty soul, drinking in air and colours and shapes and detail the way anyone else would need water. Fortunately, Danny seemed to understand that. As often as possible, he took her out in his boat, paddling her down the shore so she could take in the beauty of the place. And it was
so
beautiful. So peaceful. Back in Silvertown she'd seen the ocean beyond the factory, but this was nothing like it. The only sounds here were the gulls and the surf, rolling over the rocks, retreating back into the sea. The trees were vast, never-ending, and the ground by their roots was a carpet of moss, constantly changing colours and textures. It wasn't deep soil, he'd told her. That's why so many trees were uprooted
during storms. Not much for them to grab on to when the autumn gales blew, and he promised her they did. The idea of those storms worried her a little, but for now she was convinced there was nowhere on earth as lovely as this. Everything begged to be painted.

“Look at those rocks, Danny. See how they face into the water? Like they're talking to each other. And look at that tree. The birch in the shade. See? It looks as if it's smiling!”

She knew he didn't see it like she did, but he nodded and smiled anyway, enjoying her excitement. She was grateful for that—more than he could know. The only other people to have ever shared her love of art were Richard Black and her mother. Her grandmother had shoved it away, treating it as if it were poison. But not Danny. He loved her. He wanted her happy, and she couldn't seem to convince him that she was. She truly was. Nothing made her happier than looking up and seeing his strong, lightly stubbled jaw tighten with smiles for her. And when his eyes were on hers, she felt herself drifting, losing touch with her surroundings, felt whatever stretched between them sucking her farther in, and she went with it, wanting to be so close to him she was a part of him.

For Audrey's first birthday in Canada, Danny bought her paper and paints. He'd even saved up to buy her the precious sable brushes she'd gushed over in a catalogue. He also built her an easel just like one he'd seen in that same catalogue. From the apprehension in his eyes and the way he opened and closed his fists, she knew he was concerned that she wouldn't like his gifts, but what a fool he was. He hadn't expected her tears of joy. And when she cried, his eyes shone as well. Now, whenever they returned from their voyages up and down the coast, she disappeared into their bedroom, took out the art supplies, and spent hours recreating what she'd seen.

Sometimes he watched her paint, but mostly he left her alone, and she appreciated that as well. She liked to melt into the pictures the way she melted into his eyes, and she couldn't do that
when her attention was divided between her two loves. When she finished a painting, he always came to admire it. He said they were beautiful. Not the exact, perfect renderings his grandfather had once done in charcoal, he told her. Hers were less rigid. As if she saw
beyond
the lines and colours. One day when he came in late from working with his brothers in the boat, she drew him while he slept. He'd had no idea until she presented it to him three days later, the muted colours on the paper as restful as his face had been, lost in dreams.

“Gee, Audrey. This is amazing.” He stared at it. “Huh. Is that really what I look like?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, squinting critically at the paper. “Except you're much more handsome.”

Their bedroom walls were soon covered by her paintings. Danny carefully cut, sanded, glazed, and assembled frames for each one.

“You'll have to stop soon, Audrey,” he told her, grinning. “We don't have any more walls.”

“I guess so,” she agreed with a shrug. “Or maybe I'll just trade the frames around.”

“Yeah,” he mused, distracted. He scratched his head. “Hey, you know what? Could you do a portrait of Mother?”

“Sure.”

When it was done, a smooth, feminine likeness of the older woman rolling out dough in the kitchen, Danny's mother was so moved, she suggested Audrey hang her new pictures all over the house, brighten the plain walls. From the corner of Audrey's eye she saw Danny nod smugly to himself, making her grin. So that was how he'd thought it might turn out. He set to work building more frames.

One Sunday, a couple of weeks and many paintings later, Danny's aunt and uncle came visiting from Oyster Pond at the
head of the harbour. Their schooner lay low in the water, heavy with their load of six children, ranging in age from a few months to ten years. Johnny and their father helped the family onto the dock, then led them into the yard where Danny and Audrey stood. Danny's mother stood at Audrey's other side.

“Georgina,” she said, pulling her sister into an embrace. The infant caught between them gave a squawk and clung to his mother's neck. “I feel like I haven't seen you in so long.”

“Too long, Helen,” the woman agreed. “I'm so sorry we couldn't make it to the wedding. The children were too ill to get out of bed, and I'm afraid I wasn't much better.”

“I'm only glad you're all recovered.”

“As am I! And you, well, you've been so busy with things, welcoming your dear boy home again. Where is he? Where's my little Daniel?”

Danny appeared at her side with a friendly nod. “Nice to see you, Auntie Georgina. You're looking lovely as usual.”

“Daniel!” She handed the baby to her sister, then reached for Danny, but she didn't step toward him. Instead, her eyes went to his stump, hidden inside his folded trouser leg. Audrey saw the woman's nostrils flare slightly. It made her want to step between them, demand the woman's apology. But she behaved, settling for the slight touch of her fingers against Danny's where they fell at his side.

His aunt folded her hands together at her waist and smiled sweetly at him. “So good to see you again, dear nephew. I know your parents must be overjoyed to have you home.”

“And it's wonderful to be home,” Danny said, hiding the annoyance Audrey was certain he'd felt at the slight. His fingers folded over Audrey's as he led her forward. He stood tall, proud as a peacock. “Auntie Georgina, I'd like to introduce my wife, Mrs. Audrey Baker, recently arrived from England.”

Georgina's gaze went to Audrey, who met it bravely. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. McWhidden. I've heard wonderful things about you and your family.”

Danny's mother cleared her throat from behind them, her subtle sound of support. She'd told Audrey ahead of time that she loved her sister—Danny assured her he did too—but said Georgina wasn't exactly the most down-to-earth person she knew. In fact, where Danny's mother's dream in life was to see her family happy, Georgina had purposefully married a wealthy, older man and had spent her energy with the well-to-do whenever possible.

“I'm pleased to meet you too.” Georgina tilted her head. “England? I didn't realize—”

“Audrey and I met in France, but she's English. She saved my whole battalion from going hungry one night.”

“Oh, Danny,” Audrey objected. “It was nothing like that.”

“Yes, it was. You're too modest, my love. Truly, Auntie Georgina. The woman's a hero.”

“And we love having a daughter,” his mother added, making Audrey blush deeper.

“Well, then. Welcome to the family, my dear.”

The men spent most of the day sitting and talking, smoking and eating. Audrey and the ladies alternated between the kitchen, the care of the children, the yard, and the dining room. When the work was done, Danny's mother pulled Audrey aside.

“Are you having fun, darling?” she asked.

“I am,” Audrey assured her. “These are lovely people, and it's a beautiful day. How could I not?”

“I'm so glad.” She peered out the window at the others, then looked back. “Audrey, I'd like to ask you for a different kind of help, if you don't mind.”

Audrey, always happy to please, smiled and waited. Now she was curious about what brought this particular twinkle to her
mother-in-law's eyes. “I'd just love for my sister to have one of your paintings. Georgina was admiring the lovely picture hanging in the sitting room—of the oak and that little bird? Oh, you know the one. Well, I hope it's all right with you. I'd like to give it to her as a gift.”

“A gift? You would?” Audrey was shocked but thrilled with the compliment. “Of course it's all right with me. That's wonderful she should like it so much. But it is only a tree!”

“Maybe so, maybe so. But you know, Audrey, I don't know anyone who can paint quite like you do. I'm awfully proud of you as a daughter-in-law but also as an artist. Tell me—would it be a terrible inconvenience, Audrey, if I were to ask you to do a portrait of the McWhidden family? I'd love for my sister to hang it in their fancy house for everyone to see—”

“I beg your pardon?”

“—and I'm hoping you can do it without their knowing. A surprise, like.”

Audrey frowned, unsure. “I've never done a portrait with more than one person in it.”

“Oh, you'll manage. You'll do fine. Just think of them as a group of trees. All different kinds of trees. You're good with trees. Do it so they aren't aware. I'll distract them as well as I can.” She winked. “Now run along and get your easel, darling. I'll wait for you outside. Thomas!” she called her son through the door. “Thomas, come here a moment and help Audrey, would you?”

Audrey collected her paints and papers, then sat on a stump just to the side of the group, trying surreptitiously to spot distinctive features in each one of the McWhiddens. Thomas carried the easel outside and set up the tripod in front of her.

“You want it here?”

“That's perfect, Thomas,” she said.

“What are you painting?”

She darted a quick glance at her mother-in-law, who shook her head. “Thomas, come. Leave Audrey alone now.”

Thomas glanced suspiciously between the canvas and his mother.

“Don't worry, Thomas. I'm only painting trees. You're not missing a thing.”

She did a vague outline of each of the McWhiddens: three girls, two boys, the baby, and the parents. The two young sons could have been twins, they were so similar. The eldest was about a foot taller, but that was the biggest difference. Black hair cut short over tall brows and deep brown eyes. Not overly thin; healthy for their age. They were pretty simple to paint. The three eldest were sisters. Unlike their brothers, they were all quite different and required a little more concentration. Mrs. McWhidden, a small woman, and the obvious source of her boys' colouring, held her baby son in her arms. He was a round, soft-faced boy. If he hadn't had his stubby legs wrapped like a hug around her waist, he might have been too big for his mother to carry.

Audrey couldn't see Mr. McWhidden at first, so she got to work on the others, playing with poses, adding in facial expressions as she went and leaving a spot for Mr. McWhidden at the back. He was a tall, barrel-chested man with short blond curls and blue eyes. When she was ready, Audrey glanced around and spotted him sitting apart from the others, talking with Danny and Daniel Sr. It seemed Joseph McWhidden was asking Danny questions, and his posture suggested he was fascinated by Danny's responses. Audrey let her gaze slip to her husband and lost her concentration.

Danny looked slightly pale. He was leaning a little away from Joseph, as if trying to escape the barrage of questions. He lifted his cigarette to his lips and inhaled while staring at the sea, then smoke leaked out of his nose as he nodded at something Joseph
said. He looked so sad, Audrey thought. So far away. She wanted to run to him, to bury him in her arms and keep him safe from the world. But he was a man, and a man who could defend himself well enough, leg or no leg. Danny looked back toward Joseph and said something, his expression revealing nothing. Then all three men looked down at Danny's stump, and Audrey gripped her paintbrush hard, feeling afraid for him. Would he rant at them for asking things that were none of their business? Or would he disguise his anguish, let it float away with the smoke?

As if sensing her gaze, he met her eyes from across the yard. She saw the lift in his shoulders, the deep breath he took at sight of her. He smiled, and she thought what an amazing man he was, to be able to smile through all that. She was the luckiest woman alive. Apparently fortified by the eye contact, he turned back to Joseph and started talking, and the words seemed to come easier.

“Would you like some lemonade?” Mrs. Baker had come up beside her, filled to the brim with curiosity.

“That would be lovely,” Audrey said.

“How's the painting going?”

“It's coming along.”

“Do you think you can finish it by the time they leave tonight?”

Audrey frowned. “Oh no, I'm sorry. This will take a few weeks to complete, and then the paint will still be wet for at least a week.”

Mrs. Baker slumped slightly, then pursed her lips, thinking. Audrey saw when the answer came to her. “That'll be perfect. I'll be able to give it to her for her birthday.” After she left, Audrey set to work, swirling in colours, adding details, fitting Mr. McWhidden in so he watched over them all. The man behind the family. The afternoon flew by. Audrey got up to help with supper, but Mrs. Baker sent her back outside to paint. She was just finishing up when she heard the distinctive shuffle of her husband behind her.