Page 27

26

Cadence

1942

B y the time Major Gilbert finally came and got me for our grand tour of the island, I’d plotted the perfect route, all the way to Edgartown. It seemed the ideal destination for him, with its men’s shops that offered striped Breton shirts to help bond traders look like simple sailing folk and its chic restaurants where the busboys wore dinner jackets. Why he now insisted on taking the tour, despite having once passed on it, was a mystery. Maybe he just wanted another mention in my column. Maybe all that rudeness was a facade and he actually liked me. I’d felt the attraction at one point.

But either way, I was happy to go. Taking him away from the farm would allow Peter to complete a final irrigation fix, which he needed daylight for. And it was one of the hottest days on record. Perfect for a breezy drive.

The major showed up in his jeep, and I hurried out the front door and got in. No need to risk him seeing Peter.

“Ready?” he asked, and we set off. “Where to?”

As we headed up Copper Pond Road, shoulder to shoulder in the Army jeep, I tried to sell him on driving to the picture-perfectness of Edgartown—the sea captains’ homes, the blue hydrangeas in the window boxes—but Gil had other plans.

“I’d rather see where the real islanders go for a spot of fun.”

I tied a scarf over my hair, knotting it at the nape, á la Winnie. “I’m not sure you can handle it, actually.”

“Is that rather a put-down?” he asked. “Hard to tell sometimes with Americans.”

“Why do you even want to see the island, Major?”

“I think we can dispense with the Major.”

“Amelia calls you Gilbert.”

“I prefer Gil.”

“You seem to be finding your way around perfectly well now, Gil. You don’t need instruction.”

“Just show me what would be good to write about in your column, I suppose.”

“Ah, I see. Captain Feldman again?”

“He did like the last one, yes.”

“And suggested you continue?”

“That was our bargain, I believe. Your willingness to be a bridge to the community, for my cooperation. I rerouted my men. Let’s not rake over that.”

Of course this wasn’t just a pleasure drive. I sat back and breathed in the fresh sea air. At least I got a free ride out of it.

“Well, Oak Bluffs is the place to go for fun out here,” I said. “Though it might be too downscale for you. Certainly for Amelia.”

“Amelia, perhaps. But I like a good mess-about.”

“She seems to think we all marry our cousins and eat coot stew.”

He smiled at that. “Coot stew? Sounds rather unappetizing, I’m afraid.”

“Just a duck we have here that eats mostly fish. It’s actually quite good.”

Oak Bluffs would be a fair test of the major, who’d probably never been pushed off a sidewalk before.

The major glanced at me as he drove. “I received some word on what’s happened with your brother’s regiment.” He downshifted. “Only fifty men from the Seventy-fifth were embedded at the Dieppe raid. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I could find out.”

I breathed a little easier. That was reassuring news.

“Thank you for that.”

“I’ll ring down to you if I hear anything else.”

How nice it was to have someone in a high place looking out for us. And Tom.

“If Tom were here today, he’d be swimming in Copper Pond. It’s the only thing to fight this heat.”

“The one down by the beach?”

“It has minerals in it—the copper leaves your skin feeling like glass. They say the water has magical properties.”

He gave me a long look and then returned his gaze to the road.

“Gram doesn’t like us swimming down there at night, but we do anyway.”

“You’re not much for rules, are you?”

“Depends.” I smiled. “Let’s just say I’m happy you’re respecting the Victory Speed. But some things can be fudged, I think.”

“England runs on rules, I’m afraid. Have to say, this is a nice change of pace. The wild frontier.”

“I suppose. We could use a decent bookstore.”

“By the way, my men have been enjoying the books. Private Jeffers is trying to finish a Faulkner novel before we ship out.”

I turned in my seat. “So soon?”

“That is the idea,” he said. “Train here and then go engage the enemy.”

“Where are you headed after you’re done here?”

“Back to England soon, probably, and then the commandos will be assigned. Italy. France. North Africa. Or there’s always the Pacific.”

“Will you go with them?”

“That’s the plan. They’re stuck with me.”

I would be sad to see him go. Not that I’d show it. Was the lovely and humble Amelia going along, too, with her silk and pearls? She was still on the island, I knew, since Bess had heard her on the local radio channel doing a story about the new airfield under construction in Edgartown.

“Worried about going up against the Germans again after your run-in with them in Norway?”

“Not a bit.”

“Amelia referenced some intrigue.”

“Don’t let’s make too much of it. I was just doing my job.”

We finally got to Oak Bluffs and parked, joining the crowded sidewalk outside Darling’s Old Popcorn Store. People swarmed in and out of shops, casually dressed, many bare-armed and glistening with suntan lotion, wet dogs and children knocking into us with their sand buckets. Darling’s had been an island staple for over one hundred years. How often had Gram taken us there for popcorn bars when we were kids, with Tom choosing the famous wintergreen flavor—he didn’t care that it was pink—Briar the chocolate, and me the vanilla?

The major smiled and took in the crowd. “Well, this is quite a good show, isn’t it?”

I led him into the shop. Popcorn was popping out of the big copper kettle in the front window, and the scent of butter and sugar filled theair.

“Do we queue up?” he asked.

“No. It’s every man for himself; just wave down someone behind the counter. No visitor leaves the island without a white box of Darling’s saltwater taffy or fudge or penuche in their valise. Though there’s a limit of five pieces now, due to rationing.”

“So what flavor taffy would your grandmother like?” Gil asked, leaning so close I could smell the remnants of his shave cream.

How surprisingly kind that was of him.

“Molasses nut, for sure,” I said.

The major managed to order his taffy and smiled at the cashier as he handed her a dollar and she made change in her lap. He could certainly turn on the charisma when he wanted to.

We emerged and rejoined the fray on the sidewalk, being pushed and bumped at every turn.

“Talk about no rules,” I shouted to him. “Everyone does as they please here.”

He took my arm and helped me through the crowd. “It’s damned good fun, isn’t it?”

I loved the come-as-you-are nature of Oak Bluffs, where everyone was welcome. Where the petite Adams sisters, who’d been in Tom Thumb’s wedding, strolled next to Wampanoag fishermen, and one might see famous island residents like stage actress Katharine Cornell and film star James Cagney. Black Americans from all over the country came back year after year to Oak Bluffs, the only Vineyard town that welcomed them at their inns and hotels.

The major seemed to relax and soak it all in, but it was hard to know if it was just a show for my column.

“What do you think?” I asked. “It’s not exactly Regent Street.”

“You might be surprised. If I’m honest, it has all the energy of a Chelsea football match at Stamford Bridge.”

“I didn’t take you for a soccer fan.” I pushed away a massively attractive image of him in a soccer uniform, running the field. It was better to keep things businesslike. “You’re allowed to leave the castle now and then?”

“I actually let an apartment in Kensington.”

“How common of you.”

He pulled me closer and said in my ear, “I need to see the simple folk now and then. This is invigorating, truly.”

I laughed and walked ahead. “Can I quote you? Have to make it good for the column, after all.”

He pulled me back by the wrist. “Stop saying that.”

I just stood there, jostled by passersby.

He pulled me to him, so close. I barely breathed as he searched my face, and everything slowed. He leaned in, lips parted. I closed my eyes and waited for his mouth on mine.

All at once, someone bumped me from behind, knocking me away from him.

I turned to find a sunburned bowling pin of a man wearing a towel draped around his neck like a prizefighter, walking backward and apologizing profusely.

The major averted his gaze and brushed something off his sleeve, and I walked on, too shaken by the moment to look at him.

He took my arm again as we walked. “I hope you don’t think I was boiling up to make a pass.”

Of course he was, and I’d been happy for it, but I let it go. “Oh, of course not.”

Soon we reverted to our former selves, chatting about similar things again, only less chipper somehow.

We pushed through a throng of people on the sidewalk, and a flash of fear spiked in me as I spotted Captain McManus at the doorway of Sone’s Japanese gifts store. At least he wasn’t at our house, on Peter’s trail. He wore his blue windbreaker, despite the August heat, and was certainly not there to watch taffy being made. A crowd gathered as he placed a board across the gift-shop doorway and his associate nailed itin.

“You can’t do that!” someone in the crowd called out.

The Sone family had not been on the island to open their shop as usual that season, and rumors swirled about their whereabouts.

“I heard they’ve been interned in Montana. How can that happen? They haven’t done anything remotely nefarious,” I said to Gil.

He led me away. “It’s an unfortunate product of war, I’m afraid.”

“It’s not fair,” I said. “Their kids went to school here.”

“We can’t be too careful right now.”

I pictured Peter at home, fixing our irrigation box. If only Gil knew.

We finished our whirlwind tour of Oak Bluffs, and he got me back to the farm-road entrance. I hoped Peter was done and out of the field.

“You can drop me out here at the farm stand,” I said, hoping to have that long walk to the cottage all to myself to sort through what had happened with him. But he insisted on dropping me at the house, and as the jeep barely came to a stop, I sprang from it, relieved to see Peter was nowhere to be seen. I watched him drive away, then stepped into the cottage and back to the kitchen, to find Gram and Bess shelling peas at the table.

“How was it?” Gram asked.

“Fine, I suppose.” I just wanted to go to my bedroom and sort through it all in private.

“I need every detail,” Bess said.

“Can Peter come down?” Gram asked. “He’s offered to make me more of that aspirin drink. It really has helped—not short-winded at all today.”

“Yes, but only quickly,” I said.

Peter came downstairs and stood at the sink.

“Major Gilbert said he found out that only fifty Army Rangers from the Seventy-fifth actually landed at Dieppe,” I said.

“That’s good news,” Bess said, almost too brightly. It raised the question: Was Tom among them?

The front screen door banged. “Me again, I’m afraid!” came a voice.

I turned toward the sound. “My God. He’s back.”

Bess grabbed Peter by the arm and pulled him toward the back staircase.

Gil stepped into the kitchen. “So sorry to waltz in this way.”

My heart thumped my ribs, and I smoothed my hair and tried to smile naturally.

Gram stood and rubbed her palms down the front of her skirt. “We didn’t hear you arrive, Major Gilbert.”

The major stepped into the kitchen and held out the white Darling’s box to me. “You forgot this. For your grandmother.”

Remarkably composed, Gram accepted the box. “Oh, thank you. I do love that tradition, especially when it benefits me.” She pulled out a chair from the table. “Please sit, Major. I’ve just made some baked apples.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Smith,” the major said, his gaze fixed on Peter. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

My knees felt about to fail. Gil would turn us all in for sure once he spoke with Peter. Would certainly never contact me again, except maybe to call me in prison.

“This is our cousin,” I said. I turned to Peter. “This is Major Gilbert.”

Bess stood between Peter and the major. “He doesn’t say much.”

Peter stepped to the major.

I swallowed hard and readied myself. It was the end of the line forus.