“Without me?” Dot cried. “You didn’t even tell me?”
“I did tell you. I just, well, I sped up my plan.”
Dot’s vision blurred. “I can’t believe it. You’re really leaving?”
“They said I will hear from them within two weeks, and then yes.” Dash’s gaze softened. “I gotta go, Dot. I know half a dozen girls at least who are already signed up and working. Remember Jean? She’s a sailmaker. Cindy is a delivery driver. I even heard that in England some of the British Wrens load torpedoes onto submarines! Can you imagine? I applied to be a mechanic. Wouldn’t that be perfect? You should really think about joining, too.”
But all Dot could picture was the twin bed beside hers, empty.
She watched Dash head upstairs, unable to move. This couldn’t be happening. She dropped her gaze to the piece of paper in her hand.
“Join the Wrens, and free a man for the fleet,” she read.
She tossed the pamphlet onto the table as if it burned her skin. Oh, how she hated this awful, selfish war. It was taking everyone from her. Soon Dash would be gone, and Dot would miss her like mad. It wasn’t only that, though. Without her, Dot would have no one to hide behind. She understood she should be ashamed of her weakness, and she supposed she was, but she was also dreadfully afraid to do anything about it. Taking risks meant facing the unknown. It meant unpredictability. Everything Dot had ever done—from the inflexible rules of numbers and Morse code to the routine of conjugating verbs in any language she learned, and solving mysteries before anyone else—relied on knowing with certainty what would happen next.
You should think about joining.
But she couldn’t do that. What would be the point? She already knew she wouldn’t be able to handle such a drastic change. Besides, she would never be courageous enough to follow in her sister’s footsteps.
That was the one certainty she still had.
sixDASH— Oshawa, Ontario —
Dash sat cross-legged on her bed, feeling glum. The bedroom window was slightly open, and she could hear the swish of autumn rain against the leaves of the old maple tree. Normally she loved that sound. Not today. Ever since Fred had died, death had felt like something tangible. A threat she could feel coming closer, and the rain made her feel trapped. To escape that feeling, she had gone to the recruitment centre and done something about it. She refused to sit here like a bump on a log and wait out the entire war. She was glad she had done it, but by doing that, she had changed everything between herself and her sister.
“J’espère qu’il cessera bientôt de pleuvoir,” she heard Dot say downstairs, followed by a lazy chorus of her students’ voices. “That’s right. Does anyone know what we just said? Yes?”
“I hope it’ll stop raining soon,” a little voice replied.
A storm cloud hung over Dot’s head these days, and it was hard for Dash not to take at least partial responsibility for that. Still, just because Dot was afraid of being alone, that didn’t mean Dash shouldn’t do what she thought was right.
Then again, Dash had her own problems with leaving. The reality of not having Dot around was daunting, but she wasn’t about to admit that.
She’d told her parents, Uncle Bob, and Aunt Lou about the Wrens. They’d been excited for her, and proud, but every one of them had quietly asked how Dot was taking her decision. She was a little annoyed that they had taken the shine off her news with that question.
“Dot’s stronger than you think,” she told them. “She won’t need me.”
Which was true, though it would take some time. But knowing that Dot would eventually manage just fine on her own was a difficult thing for Dash to face as well. That would take time, too.
She heard the front door open, and through the window, she watched Dot’s half dozen students leave the house, clutching school bags to their chests in a futile effort to keep them dry. At the sound of her sister’s feet on the stairs, Dash turned to face her. When Dot entered the room and saw her like that, her step faltered.
“We should talk,” Dash said. “We haven’t said more than two words to each other since I told you about the Wrens.”
Dot didn’t reply. She placed her lesson plans on the table between their beds, then she sat on her own and mirrored Dash’s pose.
“Where do you want to start?” Dash asked.
Dot set her jaw. “You called this meeting, not me.”
“Let’s talk about Gus,” Dash suggested, and Dot’s face softened.
“I miss him so much it hurts,” she admitted quietly.
Dash nodded. “Sometimes I sit down for supper and expect him to pull up his chair and join us.”
Dot was staring over Dash’s shoulder, toward the window. “I miss his voice. I miss turning around and seeing him there. I miss the smell of his clothes when I am doing the washing.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and her words rushed out. “But I am so, so angry at him. I would never abandon the people I loved without at least sending an occasional note to let them know I was all right. It’s like he doesn’t care about us at all. Like he’s forgotten us. And then I start wondering—” Dot stopped.
There was a beat as Dash wondered what to say.
