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Cadence

1942

L ater that morning, we swept the ashes from the kitchen and hauled out most of the charred cabinets. Peter led the way, with Briar in her sentry tree, ready to signal in case McManus or any other intruder came down the road. We all tried to keep a cheerful face on, but the kitchen was pretty much ruined. At least we saved the mantel that Grandfather had carved. That was a bright spot. We’d also avoided a visit from the fire department. And we would rebuild. But Gram couldn’t come home. She’d need to go to a nursing home after discharge from the hospital, and we didn’t have the money.

“I have some money saved up,” Margaret said, handing me a Leslie’s Drugs bag with cash in it. “One hundred dollars almost.”

How incredibly kind that was of her.

“Thank you, Margaret, but we can’t take your money,” I said. With little family available to help her, she needed to keep her nest egg.

We took a break from our cleanup and carried our books and towels down to the beach for a swim in Copper Pond, while Peter pried out one stubborn cabinet that needed replacing.

I wanted to try to regain the book-club feeling we had before the Tyson incident, back when we fought about what books to read and Bess and Margaret were at each other’s throats. We toweled off and Bess stepped to the flagpole and raised our burgee.

But Tyson’s death had shaken us to the core and made it hard to chat about books, so instead we discussed how to explain his disappearance. We would float a rumor that he had gone to live with his parents or that he left the Army to travel some more. Would Shelby believe it? And when we’d exhausted that conversation, we took to our towels and read on our own. At least we could count on books to get us through.

I dove back into my mother’s copy of Anna Karenina to finish my third read, always my go-to for a good escape, but soon my attention went to the boulder up on the hill. Would word of what we’d done get out somehow? And Peter was still a big problem. I worried every minute that McManus would turn up looking for him. I could tell Peter knew it was time to go.

The shrill tone of Briar’s whistle sounded from the hill, and I sat up on my towel. A car was coming. I ran as fast as I could to warn Peter. Hopefully he’d heard the whistle, too, and had taken cover.

I made it to the front gate just as Private Jeffers pulled up in Major Gilbert’s jeep and saluted me, which seemed kind of him, since I held no rank.

“A message from Major Gilbert, Miss Smith,” he said, the motor running. “The major had to ship out but wanted me to give you this.”

Jeffers took a white paper bag from the passenger seat and handed it to me. “Said I needed to get it down here on the double.”

“Thank you, Private.”

“I won’t be seeing you for a while,” he said. “I ship out tomorrow. Headed for the Pacific, splitting off from Major Gil’s group.”

“You’ll miss them, I’m sure.”

“Like mad. But it’s been nice knowing you Smiths. And I’ll be back here. I told my mom I’ll bring her around to see the island.”

“You’re welcome anytime.”

“Please tell your grandmother thanks for making me that huckleberry pie, will you? Guys couldn’t get over that she went and found huckleberries.”

Private Jeffers went on his way and Briar came at a run from the direction of her tree, relieved to find it was simply Gil’s messenger. We took the bag inside to my room and sat on the bed to open it. Briar stared at me with anticipation as I took the card from its envelope. How good it was to have her there with me.

The card was written on Army letterhead, Peaked Hill printed at the top, and I read aloud:

“My dear Cadence, I hope this letter finds you well. Upon returning to my office this morning, I found a box of books the gate sentry said you’d left and a letter missing, which I must assume is in your hands, since it would be quite a coincidence otherwise. Perhaps you will allow me to explain about the letter, which I received from the local postal office, as your sister probably told you, since she followed me through half of Vineyard Haven that day, I’m assuming due to the protective nature of a beloved sister.

When I was captured by the Germans in Norway, we were taken to a POW camp, Stalag 10A in Schleswig, Germany; there a woman named Greta Sternberg, a happily married mother of two, helped my friend and me escape. We hid in plain sight in some German towns as we made our way home, thanks to Greta and her husband, and even after I returned safely to London, I continued to stay in touch with her. I chose to pick her letter up off base, in Vineyard Haven, since she often sends me photos of her children, which military airmail regulations do not allow.

As I explained, my life is a bit chaotic at the moment. I have been reassigned, away from my men for now. I hate to leave you and this beautiful island, since I’ve come to love you both, and I most ardently hope you will come to London soon, where I shall promptly and unconditionally explain anything more you still wonder about. I hope to do that over potted shrimps at Sweetings, where their signature beverage, the Sweetings Black Velvet (Guinness and champagne), has been known to lead to more than one marriage proposal, so consider yourself forewarned.

In the meantime, I hope you accept this token you might wear to keep me in your thoughts now and then. I will write, in care of Copper Pond Farm, from whatever outpost they are sending me to and hope we all come home soon.

Yours with unending love and devotion,

Gil”

Briar and I sat for a moment and let the letter sink in.

“I think he likes you,” Briar said.

I opened the velvet box to find the necklace I’d seen in Gil’s coat pocket, which Briar seemed astounded could be purchased from any jeweler on the island. She helped me with the clasp, and I looked down at the diamonds and seed pearls there at my throat. I was thrilled at the prospect of a London trip, of course, and delighted that the necklace had been for me after all.

I stood and held out my hand to Briar. “It’s the perfect accessory to wear to finish cleaning a kitchen.”

—

I woke up the next morning, the bed next to me cold. I assumed Bess had risen early, ready to warm the last of the chocolate for breakfast, since Peter had gotten the stove working again yesterday. I stepped to the kitchen and found Briar there, still in her pajamas.

“Peter’s gone,” Briar said. “Margaret, too.”

We went to the boathouse and found no sign of them.

“They must have walked to the docks last night,” I said.

They’d just taken the clothes on their backs and disappeared. Somehow, I knew they’d be okay and would make it safely to Minnesota. I smiled, happy for Margaret—hopefully she’d start a new book club there. They would certainly be all set in terms of discussion questions.

“Where’s Bess?” I asked Briar.

“I don’t know,” Briar said. “She took the truck and told me to tell you she’d be back later so we can visit Gram.”

With Gram at the hospital, and Peter and Margaret now gone, the house felt so empty.

And it wasn’t like Bess to just leave without telling me.