My compass, Dash thought with wonder.
“Your father never wanted to talk about what happened, but the pilot did. He told the newspapers, and the news travelled here and made it into our small paper.” Aunt Lou chuckled. “You should have seen your mother’s face. He hadn’t even had a chance to write her a letter before the news broke, and she showed up at my door in hysterics. By reporting the German ships, he had saved dozens of our troops, including those three local men. At one point, the town talked about putting up a statue, butyour mother and Uncle Bob put a quick stop to that. Your father would have hated it.”
Dash scanned the crowd as it departed the church, seeking Mr. Olson and Mr. Martin. Nearby, she spotted the town’s baker, Mr. Jeffreys, though he was harder to recognize without his flour-dusted apron. All of them, she realized, her heart twisting with grief, were alive because of her father.
“I wish I had known.”
Her aunt’s smile was warm. “Would it have made you love him any more than you did?”
“Of course not. But why wouldn’t he have told us?”
“Sometimes in war, secrets are necessary. Some are for reasons of national security, but others are personal. So many men came back different after that war, and a lot never spoke of their experiences ever again. Your father didn’t want to remember the war. He wasn’t like your uncle. Your father was good at his job, but he’d never wanted to be a hero.”
Outside the church, people in black gathered in groups, their voices conversational. They’d said their goodbyes to the dead; now it was time to greet the living.
“I’ll give you a bit of insight into your other parent, now.” Aunt Lou smiled, motioning toward Dash’s mother, who was speaking with a few neighbours. “Your mother is a hero as well, just a different sort. She did so much for the people here who had been left behind during the war. She organized monthly get-togethers for the wives so we could feel normal for a little while. We needed that, and she knew it. Oh, and she threw a big party at the church after Mr. Davey’s house caught fire. Everyone donated something. He had been sent home from Europe after he lost his leg, and I’m sure he had given up all hope, but that party was something else. People brought quilts and food, and so much else, including supplies and muscle to help rebuild.” She tilted her head. “And then there was Gus.”
Dash couldn’t speak while it all sank in. “And then there was Gus,” she whispered.
She hadn’t known her parents at all.
“I feel like I’ve been asleep my whole life. I feel… selfish.”
“No, no, dear. Never selfish. Your father was a quiet man, and even quieter when he returned from the war. He never boasted, so there’s no reason you should know. If anything, it was your mother who spoke for him. When you and Dot were born, well, I’d never seen him happier. You two filled his heart.”
Her eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “One episode in a person’s life does not define who they are, Dash. You knew everything that was important about him. You knew he loved you and your sister, and that’s all he needed you to know. He was so, so proud of you both. He always said you would do more important things than he ever did. He was thrilled to see you making your dream come true. Did you know he had your mother frame that photo you sent of you beside the Hurricane?”
Dash’s grief surged up again at the thought. She glanced back at her mother, seeing her in an entirely new light. Not fragile at all. Rather, someone to be admired.
“But Dash, I need to say one more thing. It’s about your sister.”
Tension gripped Dash’s jaw. “There’s nothing to talk about. She didn’t come.”
“Your father wanted you to forgive her. We all know, especially him, that she would have been here if there was any way. He knew how much she loved him. The two of them were so similar, weren’t they? There was no way she would abandon him in his final hours without a very good reason. You know that, Dash.”
Dash stepped back, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t know what I know anymore. Dot has always been my best friend. My other half. We used to know what each other was thinking without even trying. The truth is, I don’t know what I’ll say to her when I see her again. I don’t know anything. I feel sick over it.”
“Think of your father.” She moved closer and rubbed circles on Dash’s back with her palm. “Think of the love in his heart, and the forgiveness. What is one goodbye when you’ve spent your whole life sharingeverything? We will miss him awfully. Your uncle is a disaster, I’ll tell you that. Your sister must be devastated. She needs you. Dash, I want you to look deep into your heart, beyond all this hurt.”
While others were still talking in the churchyard, Dash headed home, memories crowding her mind. When she reached the tree at the side of the house, she didn’t pause. It was the same as it had always been, just a few years older, and she loved that about it. Every nook and cranny in the bark felt familiar against her fingers. She easily climbed to the Y amid the branches, reaching the little nest that no one had ever sat in but her. If she listened hard, she could still hear her sister’s giggles coming from the ground below. Back then, this spot had been a fun place. Now it was a place where she could grieve alone. Where she could curl up and miss her father without witnesses.
Except it wasn’t just her father that she missed. She missed her mother’s warm laughter, and the way she looked at her father when he said something funny. She longed to see again the bond he had shared with Uncle Bob, with the two of them joking across the dinner table. Most of all, she ached to see the love in Dot’s eyes when the two were together and they didn’t know Dash was watching.
One man had left behind so many.
After a while, she climbed down the tree and shut herself in her bedroom. Just before falling asleep, she looked at the empty bed across from her. The pillow where Dot’s shining blond hair splayed out while she slept sat plump and untouched. The spot where Dot’s face had turned toward her own, sharing all their secrets in the dark, held nothing now.
The sadness and loss that had stewed in Dash all day hardened to anger once more. Dot should have been there, on that little bed next to hers.
Two days after the funeral, Dash woke up to a miserable, rainy morning that reflected her mood. After breakfast, she sat at the kitchen table withher mother and aunt, sipping boiled water.
“I want you to go to England,” her mother said, bringing up the conversation again.
Dash’s heart was already broken. This talk would only make it worse. “I already told you. I can’t, Mom. I can’t leave you alone.”
Her mother gave Aunt Lou a small smile. “I’m not alone. If you’re concerned about me, please don’t be. I know what you’re considering, and I absolutely forbid it. Your father would be distraught if he knew you were giving up your dream because of him. I want you to go. He did, too. Live your own life. Please, Dash.”
So many tears had been shed, Dash was surprised she still had any left. They lodged in her throat now, hearing her mother call her by her nickname for the first time.
