We caught the trolley but got off a few stops before our flat. I explained to Stefan who I was looking for. Oy, Irena! Stefan’s face went white with anger. “After all that he did to us, you’re going to feed him?” he asked.
It was our first argument in a long time. In the end, Stefan was still not happy with my decision, but he agreed to come with me to “protect” me. We walked to where Howard Smythe usually stood, but he wasn’t there. So I left the small box on a ledge, hoping he would see it when he came back.
Monday, January 1, 1917
In the paper today was a story about an internment camp in Sudbury that caught on fire. One man died and many others had to flee. Reading that story brought back bad memories, Irena. And on the way to work today, I saw Howard Smythe again. He looked right at me and I looked back, but neither of us said a word or even nodded like we knew each other. I hope he found the food that I left him. Irena, will you think I am terrible if I admit to you that — even though he is in a bad way now — every time I see him, I still get angry about what happened to us at the camp?
Wednesday, January 3, 1917
The same group of us worked after hours at the factory on Tuesday. The supervisor brought us fish and chips again and that lovely Coca Cola. Why is it that when I work late, I have trouble sleeping? You would think that I would be extra tired.
Howard Smythe was standing in his usual place when I walked to work this morning, and this time he said something. I’m not sure what he said because of the wind. I had a feeling of being followed on the way home from work. I kept on turning, but saw no one. Perhaps it is all in my mind.
Friday, January 5, 1917
Oy, Irena, now I am frightened. When I left for work yesterday morning, I saw Howard Smythe again. He wasn’t in his usual spot. Instead, he was leaning against the building right across the road from our flat. Why was he doing that?
Today I didn’t see Howard Smythe at all. I did tell Tato, and he and Stefan and Mr. Pemlych walked all over our neighbourhood in the pouring rain this evening looking for him. Why is it that I am more troubled by his disappearance than by his watching us? Tomorrow is Svyat Vechir, and I should be looking forward to it, but instead I am brooding.
Saturday, January 6, 1917
Svyat Vechir
Dear Irena,
As I walked home from work this morning, I was thinking about all that I have seen and done since last Ukrainian Christmas Eve. We are no longer at the internment camp, and that is a relief. I am making good money at the factory, and so is Tato at his factory. Mama’s job with Mrs. Haggarty is secure. Mykola is able to go to school again. Am I awful to admit that I am jealous of my little brother? How I long to go back to school myself. But I know that when the war ends, we all may be out of work yet again. We must save our money while we can. Although it is crowded in our tiny flat, I like living close to Stefan and his family. It makes me feel safe. I am happy, Irena. I truly am. There is just one nagging problem, and that is Howard Smythe.
Sunday, January 7, 1917
Rizdvo
Dear Irena,
I have so much to tell you, yet so little paper left.
Last night Mykola was perched by the window, waiting for the first star so we could begin our meal. Suddenly he cried, “A man is out there, staring at me.”
It was Howard Smythe!
Tato put on his coat and stepped outside. From inside, all we could hear were muffled sounds. Have you been to a silent movie, Irena? I haven’t, but I think going to one must be like watching Tato and Howard Smythe through the window. Mr. Pemlych and Stefan wanted to go out too, but Mama blocked the door, saying it looked under control. They argued like what seemed forever, but then all at once it seemed over. Tato held out his hand and Howard Smythe shook it. Then the door opened, and both walked in.
Howard Smythe removed his coat and hat and stood in the threshold. The clothes he had on under the coat were shabby and not exactly clean and he seemed embarrassed about that.
Tato led Howard Smythe to our table and said, “We are honoured to have you join us this evening.”
I was shocked speechless, Irena. Yes, it was Svyat Vechir, and of course it is traditional to invite strangers to share our meal on this night — but Howard Smythe? What had he and Tato talked about out there?
At first, conversation was awkward and polite, but then Mykola blurted out, “Aren’t you that soldier who was so mean to Anya at the internment camp?”
Tato gave Mykola a thunderous look and I could feel the heat in my face. Howard Smythe blinked and set down his fork. “You are right, son,” he said.
Then he turned to me. “I am sorry for what I did to you,” he told me.
I was so shocked, Irena, that I just nodded.
Howard Smythe sighed and then his story poured out. He was dishonourably discharged from the army several weeks ago and moved back to Montreal. He cannot get a job because of his dishonourable discharge and he has been living at the YMCA and begging in the streets.
“I know now that is was hard for you when you came to this country,” he said. “Back then, I just thought of you all as dirty foreigners.”
I gasped when he said that, Irena. Mama went still.
“When I came back here and saw that you had a job when I couldn’t get one, that made me angry.” He shook his head, then looked me in the eye. “I saw you leave that box of food for me,” he said. “It made me reconsider.” Then he said, “I wanted to thank you for your kindness.”
Oy, Irena! It was such an amazing evening. I feel like I have had a thorn taken out of my heart. After dinner was over and Howard Smythe had gone home, I perched on Tato’s knee, just like I used to when I was younger.
“For what do I owe this honour?” asked Tato.
“I want to thank you for inviting Howard Smythe to dinner.”
Tato hugged me and said, “It was Svyat Vechir. And yes, it does feel good to let go of the anger.”
“I wish there was something else we could do for him.”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” said Tato. “We need help at the factory. If I say something nice about him, and Mr. Pemlych does the same, perhaps Howard Smythe can get a job there.”
Words cannot express how good this makes me feel, Irena. I hope Tato’s plan works. It reminds me of John Pember’s motto: Actions, not words.
I have run out of paper, so I will stop here. Stefan and I are going to take a walk in the snow. The world outside looks like fresh paper. I have turned over a dark chapter in my life and I am anxious for a fresh start.
I hope you like the red ribbon I used to tie all of these pages together with. I bought it at an after-Christmas sale. It should look lovely in your hair.
Please write soon, dear Irena. I will write again when I get more paper.
As always, your friend,
Anya
About the Author
Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch has received numerous awards and honours for her children’s books, including a nomination for the Canadian Library Association Book of the Year for Children Award in both 2007 and 2010. Marsha is also the author of the bestselling Dear Canada novel, Prisoners in the Promised Land.