AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“On summer nights,” she said idly, “they ought to bring the dancing outside, don’t you think?”
But when she took her attention away from the sky and returned it to Russell, he was shifting uncomfortably, as if his necktie were too tight—which she knew it was not, as she’d tied the perfect Windsor knot. “Russell? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just . . . I want to tell you about a job opportunity.”
She hesitated. “You mean the promotion at the bank?”
“Not exactly. The bank isn’t bad work. But...” He shifted his weight on wingtip shoes. “This would help with the war effort, Avis.”
Ah.So that’s what all this was about. Avis braced herself, tried to maintain an open mind. What he could have found, she had no idea. She’d scoured the want ads ever since the incident with the life jacket, but all the war-related civilian desk jobs, heads of task forces and the like, were in larger cities.
“Roy told me about a new group called the Coastal Picket Patrol that just got established by Congress,” he began, clearly expecting her to pepper him with questions.
ButWomen’s Home Companionwarned wives not to interrupt their husbands during important conversations. “Go on.”
“The idea is to use smaller vessels manned with civilians to defend and patrol the coasts.”
Now she couldn’t resist the tiniest of inquiries, more of a clarification. “Don’t we have a coast guard for that?”
“Well, the Coasties are in charge of this new branch,” he allowed, “but it’s different. The crafts, for one, aren’t expensive battleships and destroyers. A bunch of rich fellows donated their yachts and sailing boats for the Coastal Picket Patrol to use—some are joining the crew, like Ernest Hemingway. You know, the writer.”
“I know who he is, Russell.” What sort of librarian did he think she was?
Russell pushed right on, his words hurried, like he was worried she wouldn’t give him a chance to get them out. “Even though it’s overseen by the coast guard, crews are independent, run by a skipper, nothing more. No uniforms or roll call or boot camp. And I want to join them.”
Of course, that was where this was going. “Russell—”
“Hear me out, Avis.” He paused to grasp her hands, which would have been romantic, except his were slick with sweat. “It’s great work, keeping our shores safe. But . . . I’d have to be away for a while. The fleet headquarters is in Boston.”
Over one hundred fifty miles away. That changed things. If Russell and a few buddies wanted to sail up and down midcoast Maine for a few weeks and radio in reports, who could object? But if he had to leave home, leave her...
She hated to bring it up, but there was no way around it. “If it’s military-run, won’t they have the same concerns about your health?”
“That’s the thing.” His gestures became more animated, an eagerness on his face she hadn’t seen in months. “They’re specifically looking for men like me, the undraftables. All they need in recruits is some sailing experience and a willingness to follow orders. I know they’ll take me on, Avis. This is my chance.”
For the first time, Avis felt a flicker of fear. If this was really a possibility and not another one of Russell’s dreams of glory...
“What will you do on these civilian yachts, throw darts at German submarines?”
He didn’t rise to her jab. “We’ll be using a radio, mostly—wiring back with a location if we see or hear anything suspicious. Although I think they’ll give us depth charges to use if needed. Maybe a deck gun, if we’re lucky.”
The mention of weaponry reminded her of the most important question, the one she should have started with. “How dangerous is it?”
He hesitated. One heartbeat. Two. Three.
“Russell Montgomery, don’t you dare lie to me.”
“It’s riskier than staying on land, I guess,” he finally admitted, as if she hadn’t guessed that already. “If we spot a sub and radio in, the U-boats can pick up on our signals. They’ll probably run away to get a lead before the bombers fly in ... but there’s a chance—just a small one—they could do the stupid thing instead.”
She tightened her grip on his arm, not letting him look away. “Which is?”
His face took on the stoic bravado of every soldier featured in every other page of her magazines these days. “Surface and fire on us.”
The staccato sound of gunfire from the newsreels echoed in her mind, and she shivered.
Like the rest of the nation, she’d known there were U-boats out in the ocean, even before she’d found the life vest. She’d read about their merciless assaults on tankers and merchant vessels, both losses and victories. But picturing Russell out among them, floating on a tiny vessel that could be stoved to flinders as easily as a dime-store balsam model, was a different matter altogether.
She forced her hands into fists behind her back so he wouldn’t see them shake. “How long would you be away?”
