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“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?” he asked in a teasing tone.
She ought to say something coy, like“Not with you here.”But what came out instead was “I’m afraid of many things.”
His voice turned serious as well. “So am I.”
She pushed back to watch him in the dim light. “You?”
“Sure. Mostly that we coast dwellers will lose the war for the rest of the country. I know why those U-boats keep downing our merchant ships.”
Avis frowned. “The papers say we’re sinking plenty of them in return.”
“Papers don’t always tell the truth.”
“Russell.” An uneasy feeling, one she usually managed to push away by turning down the radio, avoiding the newspapers, and changing the subject, rose within her.
“I’m just telling you what I heard from my buddy Roy in the coast guard.” Another organization that refused to let him join because of his health issues. Not that he hadn’t tried. “We’ve spent this whole winter and spring with the coast all lit up, making ships an easy target for the wolf packs. We’re what’s killing them.”
She couldn’t help it; she shivered again, tucking herself under the blanket. “That’s awful.”
“So is hauling in the bloated body of a merchant mariner whose tanker was broken in two by a Nazi torpedo. But Roy says—”
“No, stop!” she exclaimed, her eyes closed shut, trying not to picture it, to think of it. “Please, Russell. I ... I don’t want to—”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.” And when she opened her eyes again, he had that familiar far-off look on his face.
“No,”she wanted to say,“I’m not fragile. I’m strong.”Like Ginny or Louise or ... or Mrs. Miniver. Keep calm and carry on and all that.
But it would be a lie.
“It’s all right,” she forced herself to say. “Just ... troubling.”
Russell’s hand found hers under the comforter and squeezed tightly. “We’ll get through this, Avis. Remember Anthony’s last letter? Sounds like spirits are high after the men heard about our bombing raid on Tokyo. They’re predicting we could rout the Axis powers by the new year.”
He had said that, hadn’t he? That was something, at least.
“I’m sure you’re right.” Or she hoped he was. “Now, would you read a few poems to me, dear?”
She expected him to complain—Russell rarely read anything other than a newspaper—but he tookCollected Poems of Emily Dickinsoneagerly, as if grateful for a change of subject. A diversion. Something lovely and simple in a world that had gone mad, read in that familiar deep voice.
But that night, even after the wail of the all-clear pattern of the fire siren, Avis dreamed of dark seas and evil men hiding in them, giving a command to kill.
Notes from the Blackout Book Club—May 2, 1942
Taken by Avis Montgomery, Head Librarian and Book Club Secretary
Members in attendance: Louise Cavendish, Delphie Morine, Ginny Atkins, Martina Bianchini, and Avis Montgomery
Book under discussion:Collected Poems ofEmily Dickinsonby the same
Oh dear, no one new attending except Delphie, Miss Cavendish’s cook, even though I talked to three ladies about it at church. If I’d hinted any more strongly, I’d have been on my knees begging. Ginny asked if I’d give her a dime a head for anyone she brought in. She found that hilarious. I didn’t.
Delphie doesn’t seem shy. She declared her unabashed love for “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers” in a way that defied anyone to disagree.
Ginny stood and declaimed the entire “I’m Nobody, who are you?” poem, including a frog imitation that made Martina swallow her tea wrong and start hiccupping. Miss Cavendish, as usual, did not approve. It’s going to be quite a time, keeping those two from each other’s throats at every turn.
When I asked one of the questions fromHow to Read a Bookabout the themes of the works, most of us agreed that Miss Dickinson was uncommonly interested in death, metaphors from nature (more a motif than a theme, but I let it pass), and apparent contradictions.
I expressed my dislike for the fact that the poems didn’t have any set form or follow traditional grammatical rules. To which Miss Cavendish said something about how that wasn’t the point of poetry. I asked, what if I started capitalizingrandom words and speaking in fragments with no regard to grammar? Ginny said it might be more interesting (some friend).
