Emancipation Day

Emancipation Day

Wayne Grady

Language: English

Pages: 336

ISBN: 0385677669

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


How far would a son go to belong? And how far would a father go to protect him?

With his curly black hair and his wicked grin, everyone swoons and thinks of Frank Sinatra when Navy musician Jackson Lewis takes the stage. It's World War II, and while stationed in St. John's, Newfoundland, Jack meets the well-heeled, romantic Vivian Clift, a local girl who has never stepped off the Rock and is desperate to see the world. They marry against Vivian's family's wishes--hard to say what it is, but there's something about Jack that they just don't like--and as the war draws to a close, the new couple travels to Windsor to meet Jack's family.

But when Vivian meets Jack's mother and brother, everything she thought she knew about her new husband gets called into question. They don't live in the dream home that Jack depicted, they all look different from one another--and different from anyone Vivian has ever seen--and after weeks of waiting to meet Jack's father, William Henry, he never materializes. 

Steeped in jazz and big-band music, spanning pre- and post-war Windsor-Detroit, St. John's, Newfoundland, and 1950s Toronto, this is an arresting, heartwrenching novel about fathers and sons, love and sacrifice, race relations and a time in our history when the world was on the cusp of momentous change.

La Soliste (Docteure Irma, Tome 3)

Exit Lines

When Alice Lay Down With Peter

Belle journée pour tomber en amour...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

hooks, wherever they could find a billet. Below them, metal tables and lockers were bolted to the decks and the bulkheads. Nothing was made of wood. When a torpedo struck, one of the gunnery mates told them, wood splintered and flew through the air, killing more ratings than compression or drowning. Metal just buckled and melted. “Fucking slave ship,” Frank muttered. Jack laughed, but his hands were shaking and they’d barely left port. He looked for a porthole but there wasn’t one, they must be

better than anyone else’s. And to do that, you have to honestly believe it, deep inside, even if it isn’t true.” He bought a car the next day, a ten-year-old Hupmobile that he found at a sandlot dealership for thirty dollars. It was green and had a rumble seat in the back instead of a trunk, but it would do. “You can’t beat these old Hups,” he told Vivian when he drove it home and called her outside to look at it. She was less impressed than he’d hoped. Why couldn’t she just pretend to like

Hills Cemetery. He sold one year book the first week, to a woman whose husband was a schoolteacher, and two the second week, which was progress. At that rate, he calculated, by the end of three months he’d be selling two thousand books a week. When he managed to sell only ten books in his first month, he wasn’t discouraged. The big numbers wouldn’t start kicking in until month three. When December came and went and he was still lucky if he sold a couple of books a week, he saw another ad in the

growl at it while Della made supper. “Well, you’re pregnant, all right,” he told her. “As if you didn’t know that.” He had her father’s gruff humour, which she understood perfectly. Longed for. “But there’s a lot of albumin in your urine. Bet you didn’t know that, eh? Probably nothing. Been getting much exercise lately?” “I walked here, does that count? And I do the shopping every day. Is albumin bad?” “No, it’s a protein and the baby needs protein. But a high count could indicate a problem

smudged, but it’s here all right,” Della went on. “We have our little … adventures, but we don’t usually marry them. Jack understands that.” “But I would have married him,” Vivian said, lifting her chin. “I’m not like you.” Della put her cup and saucer on the table. “If Jack had told you about his family before you became pregnant,” she said, “would you have wanted to have this child?” Vivian felt the room burst into movement, as it had in Dr. Barnes’s office. She hated Della at that moment,

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