This Light Between Us: A Novel of World War II

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Her eyes glisten over. “So soon? Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry.”

Alex is taken aback by this unexpected—but sincere—show of emotion. He’s not sure what to say, only that he should say something. “Yeah, so this is my last day,” he settles on saying.

“When will you be back?”

Alex doesn’t know. No one does. After the Japanese church service that morning, some folks were saying the evacuation would last only a couple of months. Others suspected it would be longer, a year. Maybe two. A few thought it might be permanent.

But no one knows for sure. No one even knows where the evacuation will take them. Rumors have circulated, of course: they’ll be taken across the northern border, to Canada. Or across the seas back to Japan. Or to the California desert where they’ll be shot to death. Or simply left there under the baking sun to die from the harsh elements.

“I don’t know,” he finally says.

Her soft blue eyes shimmer in the dull light. “I’m going to miss you, Alex.” She says this with the certitude and openness that only those at the very top of the social pecking order can afford.

He nervously twists the scarf in his hands. “Yeah, me too.”

“We’ve known each other for how long? Since fifth grade?”

“First.”

“First grade? Well, don’t we go way back!” she says with a smile, and a flip of the hair. She glances at the clock. “Well, I gotta go clean up the Sunday-school classrooms.”

The sanctuary is quiet again as she sideways her way out of the pew. The clock ticking loudly, its second hand shivering forward. He wishes he could grab it, make time stop. Or even make it go backward to when life was simpler, to before the Pearl Harbor attack, when everything was normal. When life was calm. Not this raging river full of frothy whitecaps and swirling eddies, pitching him helplessly toward the crest of an unknown, plunging waterfall.

“Jessica!” he says loudly, surprising both of them.

She blinks. “Yes?”

An air bubble is caught in his throat, making his voice high-pitched and vacuous. “I’m going to the dance tonight.”

Her head cants to the side. “I thought you just said … What about the curfew?”

“I’m going for just a short while. Ten minutes. If I leave the dance at seven forty, I’ll make it home in time.”

“Oh.” A tinge of confusion enters her eyes.

He wrings the scarf. “So if you’re there at seven thirty, right when it begins…”

She stares back with wide, questioning eyes, not really following him.

He forces the next words out. “Can I dance with you … just once at the start of the dance tonight? Before I have to leave?” He flicks his eyes up to hers.

She seems confused, her eyebrows knit together. But then, in a blink, her expression changes and she’s smiling at him. “That’s so sweet, Alex. I’d love to dance with you.”

“Really?” He inhales sharply. “That’s great.”

“Okay, then!” She spins around quickly. At the door, just before she walks out, she turns to give him a smile. “See you then!”

And suddenly the sanctuary seems brighter. The ticking of the clock slower, quieter, until he doesn’t even hear it anymore.

* * *

That night, after Alex is done washing the dishes, he walks to the front door as casually as he can. “I left a book in the coop.” He throws on a jacket. “Be right back.” He swings the door open, pretends to take in the dusk sky. “Hmm. Looks like a beautiful sunset. Might go for a walk.”

“Not too far, it’s almost curfew.” Mother wipes a plate dry, sets it down. “And we have to get up early tomorrow. The truck’s picking us up at eight thirty. You know this.”

“I won’t be long.”

Frank, looking up from his comics, doesn’t say anything.

Alex lets the door shut behind him. He fights the urge to sprint, and strolls over to the shed where hours earlier he hid a box of clothes and placed his bike out of sight. He undresses quickly; his fingers tremble with cold, or maybe excitement. He kicks off his work boots, slips into his favorite pair of swing dancers. These are two-toned oxfords Charlie sent him a couple of years ago, a popular style from her father’s factory in Paris. He’d outgrown them by at least two sizes now. But he’s refused to throw them away, mostly because they’re from Charlie, but also because he honestly digs the style. The fancy wing tips, the pattern swirls, the distinctive monk strap. They’re worth the blisters he’s sure to get.

By the time he arrives at school, twenty minutes later, it’s already seven thirty. Quickly, he stows his bike against a fence, and checks his suit by the light of a distant headlight.

He stops, dismayed.

There’s mud splattered all over his shoes. He can’t go in like this. But the thought that Jessica Tanner might be inside waiting for him—for him—with her hair done up and maybe perfume spritzed lightly on her neck settles it.

Licking his palms and tamping down his hair, he makes his way through the parking lot to the front entrance and into the auditorium.

This is Alex’s first dance and he has yet to learn basic truths about school dances. First truth: no one comes on time. Second truth: no one steps onto the dance floor for at least half an hour.

So when he enters the assembly hall, he at first thinks there must be a mistake. Only a few colored lights flash on the dance floor. The music hasn’t even started playing yet. And other than a few volunteer staff and juniors, the place is empty. No sign of Jessica Tanner.

He finds the darkest corner and waits there.

Ten minutes pass. Fifteen. Only a handful of students have walked in. They’re all chatting on the far side of the hall. Twenty minutes later, he’s still in his dark corner. A few students have thrown curious looks his way, but no one has said a word to him. It’s now past eight o’clock, past curfew. He should leave. He has to leave.

It isn’t until almost eight fifteen when a flood of classmates, as if by some prearranged agreement, pour into the auditorium. For a few minutes they mingle around the edge of the dance floor, no one quite daring to dance. Only after a trio of cool kids walk onto the floor and start jiving does the dam break. Everyone surges onto the floor, and the evening begins in earnest.

Jessica Tanner still has not appeared.

I’ll wait until eight thirty. But eight thirty comes and goes, and still there’s no sign of her. Then he sees someone who, like him, shouldn’t be here. Someone who sticks out.

Frank. Somehow he knew to find Alex here.

He is standing off to the side, scanning the hall. It takes him only a few seconds to find Alex. As if he knew better than to search the dance floor, and instead searched out the darkest corners.

“Alex,” he says,

not unkindly, walking up to him. “We need to go. Mom’s worried.”

Alex shakes his head.

“Alex.”

A group of boys turn to watch. Alex shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’m staying.”

Frank puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder, gives it a light squeeze. In the kindest voice Alex has ever heard him speak, somehow audible even through the blaring music, he says, “Alex. She’s not coming.”

Alex looks up at his brother. Frank’s eyes are full of understanding. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go home.” He turns around and walks away. After a few seconds, Alex follows him out.

They drive back in silence, the lights of the school fading in the side mirror. Before them, the darkness of the open country swallows them whole. Every time they hit a bump in the road, his bike clanks against the metal siding of the cargo bed. The bike can get nicked up for all he cares. He won’t be needing it anymore. He could have just left it at school.

“She said she’d be there.”

Frank turns off the radio. “Jessica Tanner?”

Alex looks at Frank in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“When we stopped by church this afternoon. Saw her coming out right before you, blushing a little. Figured it was her.” He elbows Alex softly. “I know I encouraged you to take someone out, to go bowling or a movie. But Jessica Tanner? Jeez, Alex. You couldn’t aim a little lower?”

Alex doesn’t say anything. Stares out the windshield, at dark unlit lampposts flying past them. The car hits a rut in the road, bounces unsteadily.

Frank pulls out a smoke, expertly lighting it while still steering. “Don’t get me wrong, Alex. I like what you did. It was gutsy. You said to hell with stupid curfew rules, and to hell with the worst odds known to mankind. You broke out of your shell and went for it no holds barred. You went for the Hail Mary.”

“It’s not what you think.”