Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (best short novels of all time txt) 📗

felt like a caress. Tomorrow, perched on my hard wooden chair and hunched for hours over my sewing table, I would cling to the memory of this day while I waited for the clock to count down to closing time.

Arnie turned off at an earlier street, and as we waved goodbye, I suddenly remembered something. My hand went to my head.

“I forgot my hat.”

Hannah groaned.

“I’ll go with you,” Max said, already turning.

“Are you sure? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Moll. It’s a nice night.”

David and Hannah headed on toward home, and under the gathering dusk, Max and I walked in silence. After a few minutes, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About feeling like debris. I know it’s tough, but when things get hard for me, like when it feels like I’ll never get through all the studying, I remind myself that this isn’t what it will always be like. This is just a step in the road, and we have to keep moving forward. Someday this Depression will be over. Things will go back to normal, and everyone will be working regular jobs again.”

I thought of Palermo’s, then let that memory slip away. What if I followed his advice, but instead of just accepting a regular job, I went back to school? Maybe I could finish my high school degree, then try for journalism school. He was right, of course. This was just a low point. I had to keep reaching for more.

“When that happens, a girl as smart and beautiful as you will be able to do whatever she wants.”

I felt my cheeks warm and was thankful for the camouflage of my sunburn. “Beautiful? Oh, stop.”

“What? You don’t believe me? Why, you could be a movie star, Molly Ryan.” The corner of his mouth curled. “And I’ll tell you what else. I’d pay to go watch you every single day.”

“You’re funny.”

“If only I was kidding.”

I looked at him but didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to. Something had changed between us. I heard it in the softening of his voice, and I felt it in my pulse. Like an electric current humming through the air, drawing me to him. It felt so real I could almost see it, and it unnerved me.

“Here,” he said, pulling out the yellow paper Arnie had given him. “I meant to show you this earlier. It’s for a rally coming up on Tuesday. The first of its kind in Toronto.”

I skimmed the flyer under a streetlamp, stopping when I ran into Yiddish symbols I didn’t understand. “A rally? About what?”

“Hitler, Germany, what’s happening here… My father and I are involved with the League for the Defence of Jewish Rights, and they organized it, but other groups have jumped on board. A lot of labour unions are showing up, protesting the same working conditions you described at Eaton’s.”

I thought of Richie’s comments about protests being a waste of time. I had my own doubts about whether they accomplished anything. “One of the ladies at work told me about a protest two years ago, with about five hundred dressmakers. She said it was awful, and it failed. All they wanted was a fifteen per cent pay increase, but the whole city ganged up against them.”

“This one’ll be different,” he said. “So many people will be there, it’ll be impossible to ignore. Even the factory owners are preparing. Everyone’s closing down at three o’clock. That’s how big this thing is.”

“They’re closing at three? Even Eaton’s?”

He nodded.

I held up the flyer, curiosity taking over. “All this Yiddish… Would I be…” I left the obvious question hanging.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said as we walked along. “There will be a huge mix of people there.”

Thinking of the crowds reminded me of Dad. “The police will tear the protest down, you know. They always do. My father said it’s basically their job to drag speakers off podiums and arrest them.”

“Not this time. The whole thing is entirely legal. Mayor Stewart cleared it. Chief Draper is even going to be there.”

“Draper? The upholder of the enduring obstinacy of the Protestant Brotherhood of the Orange Order?”

Max laughed. “That’s a mouthful. Better not say it too loud, Moll.”

I made a show of scanning the empty streets. “I think I’m pretty safe, don’t you?”

“Well, no matter what the Orange Order thinks, Draper’s orders are to keep the peace.”

I looked at the flyer again, and something about the date caught my eye. “Kind of ironic that this rally is the day before the Orange Day parade, isn’t it? Tuesday we listen to revolutionary speeches, then Wednesday we’ll hear the Orangemen do the opposite. They’ll have a few choice words to say about communism and the unions if Tuesday’s march is as big as you say it’s gonna be.”

“I’ll admit, the date was kind of planned that way on purpose.”

“Oh?”

“It was my suggestion,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Troublemaker.”

“You bet. So? You gonna come with me?”

His crooked grin was irresistible, as was the idea of being at his side at something like this. “You want me to?”

“I do.”

“Then I will. How will I find you?”

“I’ll meet you outside Eaton’s, and we can walk together.”

The upcoming week suddenly looked much less bleak now that I had Tuesday to look forward to. “I’m excited. I’ll—”

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Phil Burke suddenly appeared. Behind him, half a dozen boys spread out like a pack, swastika badges on their chicken-hearted chests. A shiver of fear ran through me—not for myself, but for Max, who angled himself in front. If this led to a fair fight, I knew he could handle himself. But between the gang and me, he was badly outnumbered. I looked around for any passersby to maybe come to our aid, but the streets were empty and dark.

Phil took a step toward Max. “Get away from Molly, Jewboy.”

Max didn’t budge.

“Get lost, Phil,” I snapped.

Phil ignored me. “I saw you and your kind down at the beach,” he went