Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (spicy books to read .txt) 📕

there was laughter around the table as there should always be. But Max could hardly eat because of the pulsing guilt in his heart. He waited until after the meal to share his news.

“I came home because I’m enlisting,” he finally said.

It was like he’d dropped a blanket on a fire, the way the conversation died.

His mother had gone very pale. “No, Max,” she whispered.

“What’s in list?” little Dinah asked, looking at him then at Hannah, whose face was frozen in shock. One-year-old Jacob began to cry, and Hannah turned to free her son from the high chair.

Max was relieved when his father nodded, stoic as ever, and murmured, “Yes.”

His father had been unwilling to talk about his own war experience, twenty or so years before. All he’d said was that war was the worst thing that mankind could do to one another. It was a disgusting, horrendous act of brutality that forced men to go against their own morality. And it was a man’s duty to serve.

Over the past seven years, his father had changed. He had redoubled his work within the Jewish community, devoting himself to any and all relief efforts. He’d been on the front line a year ago, petitioning for the rights of the over nine hundred Jewish passengers on board the MS St. Louis to come ashore in Canada. Max had never forgotten the letter his father had sent to him, quoting the immigration official who had been asked how many Jews would be considered for entry into Canada in the future: His answer was that “none is too many,” Max. Tell me, how can a man think that way?

But Max knew it was more than the war that was driving his father. After the riot, Mrs. Ryan’s accusation about throwing the brick, and the lingering suspicions had hardened him, made him bitter. He spoke less, but Max could tell he was always listening.

“You don’t have to go,” Hannah said, her mouth set in a thin line as she bounced Jacob on her hip. Beside her, David studied the table-cloth.

“Yes, I do,” Max said.

He’d been prepared for her to push back. Hannah had never been one to discuss politics, let alone war. She’d built a perfect life with her own little family, and from the shuttered look in her eyes, Max could tell she refused to contemplate much more than that. To Hannah, Max should be building a family of his own by now, and working hard in his chosen profession to support them.

She bounced Jacob faster. “Why would you throw your life away like that? You’re a doctor, Max. You’ve worked hard all your life to achieve your dream, and now you can take care of people like you always wanted. That doesn’t mean you’re supposed to cross the ocean and become a shield to protect them from bullets and bombs. What a waste!”

He fought the urge to snap back. “It’s not a waste,” he said calmly. “I’ll be a medic. I’ll be of use. I’ll save lives.”

“Let other men do that,” she said.

“Uncle Max, what’s in list?” Dinah repeated, getting out of her chair and climbing into his lap. Her eyes were wide, just like her mother’s, squeezing Max’s heart. He pulled his niece close, then looked at Hannah over her little shoulder.

“It’s my responsibility,” he said. “I’m not leaving that up to anyone else.”

“Why? You think you’re the only one who can save the world? Come on, Max! You don’t need to do this!”

“As a Canadian, it’s my duty to volunteer.” He paused. “As a Jew, I have a personal score to settle. You know it’s true, Hannah.”

Lips pressed together, she passed the baby to David and stormed out of the house, letting the front door slam behind her. Max looked at David, who offered a helpless shrug. Sometimes Max felt a little sorry for his friend. Hannah had always been a lot to handle, and David would do anything in the world for her.

His mother waved her hand. “Go, Max. Talk to her.”

Hannah was sitting on the porch, the wetness on her cheeks shining in the moonlight. The last time he’d seen her cry, he realized with surprise, was after the riot, when he’d told her about Molly. Those had been angry tears too. It had taken Dinah’s birth for things to thaw between them, and here he was, hurting her all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lowering himself beside her.

She sniffed. “I know. It’s just…” She wiped her face with her palm. “I know I pushed you away all those years ago, but things were getting better, weren’t they? Now you’re here, and I… I don’t want to lose you. Never ever again, Max. I don’t want you to go.”

He wrapped an arm around her. “I have no choice. I promise I’ll write to you.”

“That isn’t enough. Promise me you’ll be careful.” Her hands went to her stomach. “This little one needs to meet her uncle.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “Okay, but only because you asked nicely.”

The next day he’d gone down to Fort York Armoury at the Canadian National Exhibition grounds where the army was posted, and he signed up without hesitation. He passed the medical examination with flying colours, became one of the medics for the Royal Regiment of Canada, and moved into the temporary barracks in the agriculture building. Every stall had been cleaned out and converted into sleeping quarters for two men, but the residual stink of horses filled Max’s nostrils from six a.m. reveille to 10:15 lights out. Then Arnie and Samuel Schwartz joined the regiment. Two weeks later, David did as well.

“I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me,” he confided to Max on the first night.

“You can’t blame her,” Max said, torn between surprise and quiet admiration that David had dared stand up to her. “That baby’s coming in two months. You could have waited.”

“Could I?” His sharp reaction took Max aback. “Do you think you’re the only one with a score to