Free Butterfly's Shadow by Lee Langley Page A

Later.’
    Nancy urged the rickshaw on. But it was already too late to explain, just as it was too late to go back.

11
    The ship nosed into the Oregon coastline, Ben came ashore and a brief ceremony replaced more ambitious wedding plans.
    It was a subdued affair. The preacher took Nancy to one side and said in the low, convinced voice people use to comfort the afflicted, that the boy would be a blessing to her, an opportunity.
    ‘The Lord tests us, Nancy, and like tempered steel we come through stronger for the testing.’
    Amen, she said silently, adding a quick, secret prayer of her own that had become a companion.
    From across the room a Pinkerton uncle was heading her way with a child; tall for his age, blond, blue-eyed: a boy with the Pinkerton looks.
    ‘Nancy. This here’s our youngest, Jack. I brought him along to keep Joey company.’
    The two children stared at each other, Joey with his considering, sideways look, Jack without interest. Aged seven, he was already a world away from the toddler. He tugged his hand free of the paternal grip and pushed through the knot of adults until he found himself next to Ben, his grown-up cousin. He gazed at the naval uniform.
    ‘How big is your ship?’
    ‘Pretty big.’
    ‘Do you drive it yourself ?’
    ‘Not exactly, Jack. But I help.’
    ‘And do you always wear your uniform?’
    ‘Oh, sure. That’s how people know who we are.’
    ‘When I grow up, I want to join the navy and go to sea.’
    ‘Well why not? The wide blue ocean. Nothing but sky around you. Beats an office any day. Welcome aboard, Jack!’
    He shook the boy’s hand, smiling, unaware he was participating in a commitment ritual.
    Ben’s parents did not attend the wedding. Where Louis and Mary had seen the boy as an unexpected grandchild, the Pinkertons saw only an alien offspring. On the one occasion they met him, they watched Joey for signs of otherness. Okay, he had the Pinkerton colouring, but wasn’t there something about the boy’s eyes? Something different. Something . . . foreign? They noted his politeness, his graceful movements: he could sit cross-legged on the floor without difficulty. All these were signs of his Japanese blood, they told each other. Without drama, they withdrew. And in any case, Ben and Nancy were relocating, further away.
    A new home in a new town meant making new friends. Neighbours were welcoming but Nancy felt alone. Here, it was taken for granted that Joey was her son. When tricky questions came up she grew skilled at covering the moment of hesitation, the beat while she reached for the ‘right’ answer. Nothing was simple any more.
    This was brought home to her one morning over breakfast. As she poured the coffee she asked Ben if he had heard yet when he was due back on board for the next tour of duty.
    Carefully he ladled maple syrup over a waffle. He said, ‘Well now: you’ll be seeing more of me in the future, Nance.’
    He concentrated on chewing and swallowing. He picked up his coffee cup, studied it for a moment, and put it down.
    ‘Here’s the thing.’
    It was difficult not to have it sound like a rehearsed speech: how he had realised it would be tricky for her to be alone, now. How it seemed like the right time for a change, what with the kid . . .
    The kid. The problem. The burden. When he saw Nancy washing Joey’s clothes, tidying away toys, cooking special stuff, he was swept with guilt. Here she was, stuck with the kid. His kid. At some future point they’d produce their own, of course, but at the right time, not now. The kid had changed everything. He said none of this to Nancy.
    He said, ‘I’m looking at a garage, showroom attached.’
    ‘Can we afford that?’
    ‘I’ll get some help from the bank. You know what they say: the automobile is the future of America.’ He laughed self-consciously.
    ‘Ben, that’s wonderful.’
    She tried to make her voice sound as it should, but it came out breathless, not quite the genuine article. Because