The Good Left Undone(82)
“It’s going to rain,” Domenica said.
“Yup,” he replied. “Miserable day.”
“Your boots and rain gear are in the duffel. I ironed your shirts, and I tightened the buttons on your uniform. They were loose.”
“I noticed.” He tapped the buttons on his jacket. “Thank you.”
They approached the entrance of the convent. She did not want to go inside the gate, and he did not want to leave her there. So, they stood and looked at each other, holding each moment like a jewel.
Domenica had held a rare six-carat star sapphire when she was girl. A middleman had brought it through her father’s shop and allowed her to hold it. She remembered holding the rare gem so long, the gentleman had to ask her to return it to the lockbox. Domenica had not seen the color of that sapphire again until she met the captain, whose eyes were the same deep blue-green.
Domenica put her arms around her husband. He leaned into her embrace.
There was a place between Domenica’s ear and shoulder, in the crook of her neck, that McVicars cherished. The scent of her lived there, roses and vanilla. He had found himself in that place every night since they married. When he woke in the morning, he was surprised that he had slept through the night in her arms. Before Domenica, he had been a fitful sleeper. He wondered if he would get a wink of sleep at all until they were together again.
“I don’t want to go to sea,” he said. “And it’s the first time in my life I’ve dreaded it.”
“You were afraid I’d take you from it.”
“Now I wish you could.”
“But you love the sea.”
“Not as much as you.”
“You know what, Captain McVicars? I almost believe you.” Domenica stood back from him and examined his uniform. “Take your rest when you can.”
“I will.”
“And eat an orange whenever they offer them.”
“I will.”
“Be a peacemaker. Please stay safe.” She made him promise. “And pray.” Domenica reached into her pocket. “This will remind you.” She showed John a gold medal on a chain. “This is Our Lady of Fatima. She will protect you.” She reached up and clasped the medal around his neck. “Don’t take it off.”
John took his wife in his arms and kissed her goodbye. “The next time you see me, this horrible haircut will have grown out.”
She laughed and waved him off.
As he walked down the drive to return to the trolley, which would take him into Glasgow to catch the train to Liverpool, which would deposit him on the pier where he would join the ranks and crew on the deck of the Arandora Star, John McVicars felt a pain in his heart. The last thing he heard was Domenica’s laugh, which sounded like a bell.
CHAPTER 31
Liverpool, England
JUNE 15, 1940
McVicars stood on the gangway of the Arandora Star and looked up. He had witnessed the savage world and the cruelty of men as a sailor. He shuddered at the harpooning of a whale in the Aleutians and had nightmares about a brutal fight between two sailors, whereby one was thrown overboard to his death. He had experienced all manner of despair on the open sea, but he had never seen a ship desecrated in this fashion. The Arandora Star was wrapped in barbed wire. Shame washed over him as he reported for duty. Anger fueled his steps as he climbed to his cabin, located on the bridge at the top of the ship, where he had been assigned as first mate to assist the captain in the navigation of the Arandora Star.
McVicars unpacked his dress uniform and hung it in the closet of his cabin. He placed his shoes in the bin on the floor before closing the hatch. He looked out the porthole and saw nothing but blue. The waterway of Liverpool was clear. Fleets of ships were docked in the harbor, awaiting their assignments. One by one, they would eventually set sail on the open sea to fulfill their duty. McVicars tapped the thick glass of the porthole before opening it. The sash around the porthole was cherrywood. The details of the bindings and latch were elegant, polished brass, nothing but the finest for the ocean liners of the Blue Star Line. It was obvious to McVicars that this was a deluxe ocean liner requisitioned by the government because of its size and capacity, but there was no hiding the luxurious details of this tub. He imagined his honeymoon on a luxury liner. He was eager to find out where the ship was going because when he knew that, he would know exactly how many days it would be before he could return home to his wife. He had vague information. He had heard chatter that it was heading for Canada, but he did not know the purpose of the crossing. As first mate, he had two weeks to prepare the ship and organize the crew. He pulled the port closed and went to find his superior on the deck outside.
As McVicars walked through the passageways of the ship, he observed that tarps had been placed over the hand-painted murals and the floor was covered in rubber mats, obscuring the polished walnut parquet. The paint was so fresh, the scent of it filled the ship. Dull military gray and bright white pigment replaced the opulent silver and gold trim from the days when the Arandora Star had sailed for pleasure.
“Reporting for duty, Captain Moulton.” McVicars saluted the captain. Moulton was an older gentleman with white hair, muttonchop sideburns, and a bit of egg on the chest placket of his uniform. He had a traditional English breakfast, McVicars thought to himself, because he’s wearing it like the Legion of Honor medal.