“Expect?” Luke set his knife on the edge of his plate. “I don't know. I'm just a damage-controlman. I take orders. The big brass don't let me in on military plans.”
“Well, what's the scuttlebutt?” Ray asked.
Luke took a bite of turkey. “There are lots of rumors. I can't say what's real and what's not.”
“Are the Japs going to attack us?” Brian asked, shoving a forkful of potatoes in his mouth.
“Nah. I don't think so. They'd be fools to try. We're too powerful,” he added, hoping he sounded convincing.
“Every night our local militia holds drills at the community hall,” Laurel said. “And we practice blackouts.”
Ray leaned his forearms on the table. “Not a bad idea. Siberia's only fifty miles or so from Alaska, and Japan's just over six hundred. We're within striking distance.”
Luke looked hard at Ray. “They're not going to attack. In fact, we're sending ships to San Pedro. We wouldn't do that if we were expecting a Japanese strike.”
Although Luke spoke with authority, he felt none. Ray was probably right. Still, he wasn't about to agree with him. “You're wrong,” he said matter-of-factly and took a bite of cranberry relish. Looking at his mother, he said, “This is good.”
“It's Jessie's recipe,” Jean said, her voice tight.
Luke turned his attention to Laurel. “You two ever going to finish that book on Alaska?”
“As a matter of fact, we're doing the final edit and plan to send it to the university before spring.”
“Good for you. Do you think I could get a copy?”
“Sure. 'Course, it's not one of those trashy spy novels you read. It's mostly natural history plus stories about Alaska and its people. You might not like it.”
“I read more than just spy novels.”
“OK, then. I'll send you a copy.”
Susie rested her elbows on the table and looked at Luke. “I wish you weren't going back to that ship. Can't you stay home?”
“I'd love to, but I've got a job to do.”
“If there wasn't a war, could you?”
“We aren't in a war. The war is in Europe. But I'm still needed.”
“Oh.” Susie looked puzzled.
“I've been thinking about doing some reporting for the Chicago Tribune on what's happening in Europe,” Adam said. “Things are hot over there.”
Worry lines creased Jean's brow. “I thought you'd decided to stay put.”
“He has,” Laurel said decisively. “Other men can write about the war.” She gave Adam a defiant look. “We need you here.”
Adam folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “It would just be a short stint. I believe that as a newspaperman I ought to do my part in recording history. If everyone left it to someone else, there'd be no record of what's happening.”
“Adam, please.” Laurel's tone had turned to pleading. She didn't say more. Instead she looked at William and said sharply, “Keep your elbows off the table, and sit up straight.” Wearing a wounded expression, the young boy did as he was told.
Susie looked from Adam to Luke. “Will you get hurt?”
Luke reached out and rested his hand on the little girl's arm. “I'll be fine, and so will Adam. You don't need to worry about us. The war will be over soon.”
Jean set her napkin on the table. “Couldn't we talk about something else, please?”
“Hurry up. We're going to be late,” Brian said, peering in the mirror and straightening his tie.
“You have a date or something?” Luke teased.
“Maybe.”
Luke ruffled Brian's neatly combed hair. “I don't believe it.”
“Hey. Cut that out!” Brian smoothed his hair, then ran a hand over his cheek. “You think I need to shave?”
Playing along with Brian's adolescent fantasy, Luke examined his brother's face. “Soon maybe. A little stubble is starting to grow.”
“Where?” Brian asked, looking in the bureau mirror.
“Hey, you two, it's time to go,” Jean said, peeking in the bedroom door.
“OK.” Brian took another quick glance at his face.
