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And this time, she was the one who had dragged it there.
fifteen
LOUISE
JUNE 6
Perhaps they were only interested in gossip—the account of what Avis had found by the beach had already circulated around town—but Louise was still pleased with the turnout at the town meeting Mayor Hastings had called. He’d given a formality of an introduction—Louise knew for a fact that only the deputy mayor attended Civilian Defense meetings.
Which was why she now stood on the fourth step of the stairs to the library’s balcony, assigned to the actual presentation because of her involvement with the Red Cross and wartime fundraisers. “It should be clear, from the discovery of a Nazi submarine close enough to Derby that its refuse washed up on our shore, that current blackout measures are ineffective. That is to say, they are not being observed.”
She delivered a serious look to anyone who would meet her eyes. Reverend and Mrs. Whitson sitting up straight like they were in church. Elvira Buckwold, with a tilt to her chin that saidshecertainly wasn’t one of the ones Louise was addressing. The town barber, the hardware store owner, schoolchildren who sometimes visited the library.
They were faces she’d seen many times before—one couldn’t spend decades in a small community and not at least recognize most of its residents—but how many did she really know?
I’d know more if they didn’t still think of me as one of the summer people.
It was nothing personal, she knew. Delphie was still considered an outsider, and her parents had immigrated to Maine in the 1850s and were buried in the town cemetery.
She blinked as someone in the audience coughed. How long had she paused, distracted? A glance at her notes told her where to pick up again. “Not only that, but last week, north of us, fellow citizens discovered the bodies of two American merchant mariners washed up on the shore. There are brave men dying out there. What’s more, they’re dying for the fun of it—for our fun, our insistence on flouting national curfews and restrictions so we can attend a bar or movie theater or take a pleasure drive.”
Just as she’d planned, this made the listeners shift uncomfortably in their seats, looking down like chastened children. For a moment, Louise wondered if she was being too harsh.
Certainly not. This is a matter of life and death.
“I would urge each of you to attend more carefully to the Office of Civilian Defense regulations, copies of which will be distributed at the door.” She indicated Ginny, who waved a fistful of flyers that she had cheerfully volunteered to peddle. “I will now open the floor for any questions or comments.”
This unleased the usual community babble at meetings of this sort:
“What about churches? Will they have to cover up their windows with those awful drapes? That seems like sacrilege.”
“Come down to the hardware store for a ten-percent discount on headlight covers for blackout driving! This week only.”
“Isn’t the coast guard supposed to keep our shores safe from U-boats? Where were they when the tanker was sunk?”
“Won’t there be an increase in crime with blackouts on and the streets darkened?”
Louise answered the questions as best she could—no, aslong as churches didn’t keep lights on after dark, though she doubted God had much of a preference on window coverings; yes, they’re doing the best they can, but there aren’t enough patrol crafts; no, other communities had not experienced an increase in crime to her knowledge.
Her composure slipped only slightly when Avis tentatively raised a hand to be acknowledged. “If any of you are looking for activities to occupy yourself with shortened hours and travel restrictions, I’d invite you to join the Blackout Book Club. We meet here at the library every other Saturday to discuss a wide variety of important literature.”
Louise frowned. It felt irresponsible, using a serious community meeting to promote a club whose next “important literature” was a work of nonsense British comedy. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t mentioned the temporary nature of the group.
Isn’t that why you permitted the club in the first place? To keep people inside, just as you’re now reminding them to do?
If she was honest ... yes.
Then why did she feel so annoyed?
A few moments of reflection, and she had her answer. While people had stared blankly in response to her speech, they watched Avis with interest. She was one of them, a local girl made good, not to mention a model modern woman in loose pin curls and tailored Victory suit, her perfect red lipstick smiling warmly out at them all.
Never mind that.Louise had done her duty, giving this speech, handing out literature, saving lives.
So why did it never feel like enough?
After enduring the exuberant commendation of Mayor Hastings and a quiet handshake from Deputy Mayor Shinn, the Laurel to his Hardy, Louise collapsed into the armchairflanking the biography section. The chair, donated from her father’s study, moaned a protest, as if it too had been exhausted by the evening’s activities.
She had just closed her eyes for a brief respite when a jab at her temple made them fly open again in time to see a folded paper airplane ricochet to the ground at her feet.
