The Stars Are Fire(50)

One benefit of living in Merle’s house (me in Merle’s house—can you imagine? She’d be spitting out the nails of her coffin!) is that if Gene does make it back, he might search for us here. Worse, as far as Merle is concerned, is that I have raided her closet. Rosie, you would have shrieked if you’d seen it! It’s filled with very expensive dresses, fifty at least, and five fur coats. I wear her mink hat all the time. I can’t imagine where she wore all those clothes to. I certainly never saw them, but of course when she was coming to our house or we there, which hardly ever happened, she always wore something plain. I imagine she thought herself slumming or that one of the kids would spit up on her. I never liked the woman, and she certainly never liked me, but I admit I felt like a thief raiding her closet. I feel less so now because I really do need the clothes. My mother sews and knits all her free hours, but she loves doing it, so I don’t try to stop her. One night this week I came home and saw the children in a dress and in overalls made from a navy corduroy skirt I’d seen in Merle’s closet. We don’t touch the beautiful clothes, though sometimes I wonder why not. She’s certainly never going to wear them again. If I was ever asked out somewhere nice, I think I might choose a dress. But a working mother with two children is never going to be asked out, is she, so I don’t think I need to worry about it.

I try to picture your life in Nova Scotia. I have a bad sense of geography, but I think it’s part of the Maritimes, yes? Can you see the water? Is it beautiful? Are you all living in one house, or have you and Tim managed to find your own? Please tell me about the kids—they grow so fast. You wouldn’t recognize Tom, and Claire is already a string bean. My mother makes long hems in her dresses so that she can let them out.

Thank God for my mother. I can’t imagine what I’d have done without her.

Do you ever think about our former life, how safe it seemed? With the war ended, we thought all danger was behind us. Nothing ahead but prosperity and children growing older. I have never been so afraid in my life as I was the night of the fire. When they came to rescue us, my arms and legs wouldn’t move, and they had to slip Claire and Tom from under my arms. Please tell Tim that I don’t begrudge the fire department rescuing you first. Not one bit!!

If I know you, you are focused on only one sentence in this entire letter, and that if you were here, you’d be asking, Which one? All I can tell you is that the music was sublime.

Love and kisses,

Grace

Dear Grace,

You know me so well. Have you really never heard from the musician again? You will, you will, I am sure of it. But it would be best for you if it happened after Gene was declared dead—what a horrible thing to hope for.

But I’m happy for you. When you come to visit, a fantasy I persist in believing, you will tell me everything. Every tiny detail!

Winters in Nova Scotia are harsh, what can I say. You and I used to complain about the wind off the water in Maine! This winter, you could magnify that by ten. Our hats have to be buttoned under the chin, our coats belted. I dare not take the children out unless they’re tied to me. Tim is now part owner of a Ford dealership, thanks to a gift of money from my parents. We had to decide between the down payment on a house or the business. We chose the business, reasoning that Tim could make enough money so that in a year’s time we could put down our own deposit. But I have to tell you, he entered the business at the wrong time of year. There have been no sales since Christmas, and, truthfully, there aren’t a whole lot of cars in Nova Scotia. Tim is hoping that when spring comes, business will pick up and be strong over the summer. I can’t wait for spring, Grace. I think of last year, how we complained about all the rain. But at least it was better than this terrible moaning and whistling weather. I don’t know how the fishermen do it, but they are out on the water all the time. I hear of men dying more often than I should. Tim takes us for outings on Sundays, his day off, if the skies aren’t spitting sleet. Fortunately Tim’s mother has a washer and dryer, which I could hardly believe when I entered her house. (How we are relying on our mothers now!) Since the kids are a little older, I usually have a couple of hours to myself. I’m reading books and not just magazines, mainly because Tim’s mother doesn’t get magazines and she has a lot of books. Children’s books, too. I enjoy reading them to Ian and Eddie. I can’t wait for spring, for their sakes, too. They need to run! But then I’ll be terrified that one of them will fall into the water. It’s a very rocky shoreline.

I envy you your job. (I think even without the clue at the end of your letter, I would not have guessed the doctor. Too hazardous with a boss.) How I would like to have a new dress and be able to go into a store each day and sell…what?…gloves maybe. But I’d make it into work only half the time, since the snow piles in drifts here and the cars can’t get through. Grace, I have never been so cold in all my life!

I guess now we will always live in Nova Scotia. Tim’s business will tie him here for years. And now that our parents have got us back, I doubt they’ll let us leave without a fight. And truth to tell, there’s something in this way of life that appeals to me. It’s slow and though I sometimes long to go into Halifax, to a movie or to a nightclub, I feel in my bones that we were meant to be here. For one thing, my carrot top doesn’t stand out! I’ll have to join some kind of organization in the spring to meet people.