Anna heard her father’s key in the lock and opened her eyes. From the density of silence outside the window, she knew it was very late. Not even the bell of a streetcar. She tiptoed around the Chinese screen they were keeping for Aunt Brianne into the dark front room. There she paused. Her father was shirtless at the kitchen sink, soaping up his torso. Anna watched him, mesmerized. He couldn’t see her from the lighted kitchen, and for an eerie moment he appeared to be someone Anna didn’t know and had no claim on. A gaunt, handsome stranger, turning something over in his mind.
When he left to use the hall toilet, Anna waited in the kitchen. He jumped at the sight of her in her nightgown; then all of the worry seemed to leave him. He was himself again. And so was she.
“Toots,” he said softly. “What are you doing awake?”
“Waiting for you.”
He lifted her up, staggering almost to the point of losing his balance. From the medicine smell of his breath, she knew he’d been drinking.
“You’re getting bigger,” he said, steadying himself on the doorframe.
“You’re getting smaller,” she said.
He carried her, a bit unsteadily, through the front room to her bedroom door. The front room window shade was raised, and her father leaned against the frame, still holding her. They gazed together into the dark. Anna felt the city stretching around them, reaching its streets and avenues toward the rivers and harbor.
“Hear that quiet?” he said, speaking carefully, as if on tiptoe. “That is the sound of a harbor in a Depression.”
“No ships,” she said.
“No ships.”
“I hear a bird.”
“No birds, please. Not yet.”
But a solitary bird had begun to chirp, a last holdout against winter. As if on cue, a tinge of light appeared in the eastern sky.
“You stayed out all night,” she said wonderingly.
“We can sleep until church.” But he waited another moment, leaning against the window frame with Anna in his arms. How many more times would he lift her? Even now, she was almost too tall.
“I’m sleeping here,” she said, folding her arms around his neck. Her father’s skin smelled of Ivory Flakes from its recent wash. She rested her cheek on his bare shoulder and shut her eyes.
?PART TWO
Shadow World
CHAPTER FIVE
* * *
It all started with seeing the girl. Anna had gone outside to buy lunch over the disapproval of her supervisor, Mr. Voss, who liked them to bring their lunches from home and eat them on the same tall stools where they sat measuring all day. Anna sensed anxiety in his wish to keep them in sight, as if girls at large in the Naval Yard might scatter like chickens. True, their shop was pleasant to eat in, clean and brightly lit by a bank of second-story windows. It had conditioned air, a humming chill that had filled every corner during the hot September days when Anna first came to work there. Now she would have liked to open a window and let in the fresh October air, but the windows were permanently shut, sealing out dust and grime that might affect the measurements she and the other girls took—or was it that the tiny parts they were measuring needed to be pristine in order to function? No one knew, and Mr. Voss was not a man who welcomed questions. Early on, Anna had asked of the unrecognizable parts in her tray, “What are we measuring, exactly, and which ship are they for?”
Mr. Voss’s pale eyebrows rose. “That information isn’t necessary to do your job, Miss Kerrigan.”
“It would help me to do it better.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“I would know what I was doing.”
The marrieds hid their smiles. Anna had been cast—or cast herself—in the role of unruly kid sister, and was enjoying it immensely. She found herself looking for little ways to challenge Mr. Voss without risking outright insubordination.
“You are measuring and inspecting parts to ensure that they are uniform,” he said patiently, as if to a halfwit. “And you are setting aside any that are not.”
Soon it came to be known that the parts they were inspecting were for the battleship Missouri, whose keel had been laid almost a year before Pearl Harbor in Dry Dock 4. Later, the Missouri’s hull had been floated across Wallabout Bay to the building ways: vast iron enclosures whose zigzagging catwalks evoked the Coney Island Cyclone. Knowing that the parts she was inspecting would be adjoined to the most modern battleship ever built had indeed brought some additional zest to the work for Anna. But not enough.
When the lunch whistle blew at eleven-thirty, she was itching to get outside. In order to justify leaving the building, she didn’t bring a lunch—a ploy she knew did not fool Mr. Voss. But he couldn’t very well deny a girl food, so he watched grimly as she made for the door while the marrieds unwrapped sandwiches from waxed paper and talked about husbands in boot camp or overseas; who’d had a letter; clues or hunches or dreams as to where their beloveds might be; how desperately frightened they were. More than one girl had wept, describing her terror that a husband or fiancé would not return. Anna couldn’t listen. The talk stirred in her an uncomfortable anger at these girls, who seemed so weak. Thankfully, Mr. Voss had put an end to that topic during working hours, prompting an unlikely trill of gratitude in Anna. Now they sang songs from their colleges while they worked: Hunter, St. Joseph’s, Brooklyn College, whose song Anna finally learned—not having bothered to in the year she was a student there.
She synchronized her wristwatch with the large wall clock they all answered to, and stepped outdoors. After the sealed hush of her shop, the roar of Yard noise always shocked her: crane and truck and train engines; the caterwaul of steel being cut and chipped in the nearby structural shop; men hollering to be heard. The stench of coal and oil mingled with gusts of chocolate from the factory on Flushing Avenue. It wasn’t making chocolate anymore, but something for soldiers to eat when they might otherwise starve. This chocolate cousin was supposed to taste like a boiled potato, Anna had heard, so that soldiers wouldn’t be tempted to snack on it ahead of time. But the smell was still delicious.