3 GRACE CAHILL 1942

GRACE CAHILL 1942 by Gordon Korman 1942. Most of the world was at war. In every corner of the globe, people were fighting and dying for one cause or another. And what was Grace Cahill doing at this critical moment in her planet's history? Changing diapers. Not diapers— nappies, she corrected herself, deftly fastening a large safety pin at each of the child's small hips. Here in Europe they used the British term. Baby Fiske burped loudly and tried to wiggle out of her grasp. Grace held on with a firm hand. Parts of the lawn at their family's villa in Monte Carlo were so steeply sloped that a wayward toddler might roll all the way down the bluff and drop into the sparkling waters of the

格蕾丝·卡希尔1942，戈登·科曼1942。 世界上大部分地区都处于战争状态。 在地球的每一个角落，人们都在为这样或那样的事业而战斗和牺牲。 格蕾丝·卡荷尔在她星球历史上的关键时刻在做什么？ 换尿布。“不是尿布——是尿布，”她纠正自己，灵巧地在孩子的小屁股上各系一个大别针。 在欧洲，他们用的是英国的说法。 小菲斯克大声打了个嗝，想挣脱她的手。 格蕾丝坚定地坚持着。 他们家在蒙特卡洛的别墅里，有部分草坪的坡度非常陡峭，一个任性的小孩可能会一路滚下悬崖，掉进波光粼粼的水中

Mediterranean. She called him Kamikaze sometimes, after those crazy pilots from the other war— the one in the Pacific. Fiske always seemed to be looking for some great peril to hurl himself into. The little stinker was walking, so it had become nearly impossible to keep him out of trouble. He was a year old now. Grace could scarcely believe it had been that long since… She had gotten good at fighting back tears. Her stomach, though, was harder to control. She recognized the feeling from her flying lessons— the sensation of hitting an air pocket and dropping five hundred feet in a matter of seconds. She experienced it on solid ground every time she thought of her mother. "You have a healthy baby son," the doctor had informed James Cahill, "but your wife…" He said more, but their father's raw, tortured breathing filled in the blanks for Grace and her older sister, Beatrice. Father shed not a single tear over the death of his wife, but he was never the same. His reaction seemed more appropriate to a record- setting marathon run than an expression of grief

地中海。她有时叫他“神风特攻队”，这是另一场战争——太平洋战争中那些疯狂的飞行员的名字。 菲斯克似乎总是在寻找一些巨大的危险来投入自己。 这个小坏蛋还在走路，所以要让他不惹麻烦几乎是不可能的了。 他现在已经一岁了。格蕾丝简直不敢相信已经过去这么久了……她已经很擅长强忍住眼泪了。 不过，她的胃更难控制。 她从飞行课上体会到了这种感觉——撞到一个气穴，在几秒钟内下降500英尺的感觉。 每次想起母亲，她都有坚实的根据。 “你有一个健康的儿子，”医生告诉詹姆斯·卡希尔，“但是你的妻子……”他说了更多的话，但他们父亲粗糙的、痛苦的呼吸填补了格蕾丝和她的姐姐比阿特丽斯的空白。 父亲对妻子的死没有流下一滴眼泪，但他再也不一样了。 他的反应似乎更像是一场破纪录的马拉松比赛，而不是悲伤的表达

—hyperventilation and drenching sweats. Not that the Cahill daughters had much opportunity to develop an instinct for their father's emotions. The time he had spent in Monte Carlo since the funeral could be measured in days, possibly hours. James Cahill was so devastated by the loss of his wife that he wouldn't even look at his newborn son. He had turned to travel, as if trying to outrun his grief. The family had not heard from him in months, save for the occasional postcard from exotic locales— Rio de Janeiro, Baffin Island, Ulaanbaatar. Baby Fiske yanked a croquet hoop out of the ground, and Grace barely managed to wrest it from his hands before he could plunge the ends into his eyes. How was it possible to love a child so deeply when he was the author of all the suffering in your life? His birth had cost Grace her mother. And it was costing Grace her father, too. The picture of James Cahill walking out the door was permanently imprinted on her retinas. He'd claimed to be leaving on business "for a few days." But his vast pile of luggage— enough to require a second taxi to follow him to the airfield

-过度换气和大汗淋漓。 这并不是说卡希尔家的女儿们有很多机会培养对父亲情感的本能。 自从葬礼之后，他在蒙特卡洛度过的时间可以用几天，甚至几个小时来计算。 詹姆斯·卡希尔（James Cahill）因失去妻子而悲痛欲绝，甚至不愿看一眼自己刚出生的儿子。 他转而去旅行，似乎试图摆脱他的悲伤。 家里已经好几个月没有他的消息了，除了偶尔从异国他乡寄来的明信片——里约热内卢、巴芬岛、乌兰巴托。 小菲斯克从地上拽出一个门球箍，格蕾丝刚把它从他手里抢过来，他就把门环的末端塞进了他的眼睛。 当他是你生命中所有痛苦的罪魁祸首时，你怎么可能如此深爱一个孩子？ 他的出生使格蕾丝失去了母亲。 这也让格蕾丝失去了父亲。 詹姆斯·卡希尔走出房门的照片永远印在了她的视网膜上。 他声称要出差“几天”。 但他那一大堆行李——足以让他需要第二辆出租车跟着他去机场

revealed the lie. She could still feel Father's arms around her as he said goodbye. He'd seemed like a drowning man holding on to a life preserver. Beatrice had noticed the same thing. Then he was gone— without so much as a sideways glance at the bassinet that held his infant son. Fiske reached for the croquet hoop, howling in frustration as Grace held it just beyond his grasp. She scooped him up in her arms and carried him, kicking and screaming, to the main house. Someday, she told herself, her brother would be a contributing member of society. Just as someday this war would be over, and someday Father would come home. That was what her life had become: too many somedays; not enough nows. "How can you take care of that little beast?" came a sharp voice behind her. Grace wheeled. She hadn't seen Beatrice standing by the doorway. "Someone has to," Grace replied. "Giselle won't. Leave it to Father to abandon us with a useless governess."

揭穿了谎言。她还能感觉到父亲说再见时搂着她的双臂。 他看起来就像一个快淹死的人抓着救生圈。 比阿特丽斯也注意到了同样的事情。 然后他就走了——甚至连侧身看一眼装着他儿子的摇篮都没有。 菲斯克伸手去拿槌球圈，格蕾丝把它握在他的手里，他沮丧地嚎叫着。 她把他抱在怀里，抱着他，又踢又叫，向主屋走去。 她告诉自己，总有一天，她的哥哥会成为对社会有贡献的人。 就像总有一天这场战争会结束，总有一天父亲会回家。 这就是她的生活：太多的某些日子；现在还不够。 “你怎么能照顾那只小野兽呢？”一个尖锐的声音从她身后传来。 格蕾丝轮式。她没有看见比阿特丽斯站在门口。 “总得有人这么做，”格蕾丝回答。 “吉塞尔不会。让父亲把我们丢给一个没用的家庭教师吧。”

"How dare you speak that way of Father?" Beatrice snapped. "Did you expect him to go on as if nothing happened? He lost his wife." "And we lost our mother," Grace put in. Beatrice pointed an accusing finger at her brother. "Thanks to him!" Grace hugged Fiske, shielding him from the acid in their sister's words. Could Beatrice blame a baby for what had happened to their mother? Or was it that the older girl was so miserable herself that she had to make everybody else miserable as well? The sisters had never been close. Yet since Edith Cahill's death, the chasm between them had grown even wider. Didn't Beatrice see that Grace was suffering, too? That Grace would have given anything to reverse the events of the past year— to bring Mother back, to undo the pain that was tearing the family apart and had already driven Father away? The one thing she wouldn't change was Fiske. How could Beatrice not love this bundle of giggles and mischief? Motherless— and basically fatherless, too. James Cahill hadn't bothered to

“你怎么敢这样说爸爸？”比阿特丽斯。 “你以为他会若无其事地往前走吗？” 他失去了妻子。”“我们失去了母亲，”格蕾丝插嘴说。 比阿特丽斯用指责的手指着她哥哥。 “多亏了他！”格蕾丝拥抱了菲斯克，不让他听到姐姐话语中的酸味。 比阿特丽斯能把发生在母亲身上的事归咎于一个婴儿吗？ 还是因为那个大女孩自己太痛苦了，所以她不得不让其他人也痛苦？ 这对姐妹从来就不亲密。 然而，自从伊迪丝·卡希尔去世后，他们之间的鸿沟变得更大了。 比阿特丽斯没看到格蕾丝也在受苦吗？ 格蕾丝会不惜一切代价来扭转过去一年发生的事情——让母亲回来，消除撕裂家庭和已经把父亲赶走的痛苦吗？ 她唯一不会改变的就是菲斯克。 比阿特丽斯怎么会不喜欢这一堆傻笑和恶作剧呢？ 没有母亲，基本上也没有父亲。 詹姆斯·卡希尔就懒得这么做

name his only son. He had left that to Beatrice. Fiske. It was Beatrice's secret revenge on her brother, condemning him to a childhood of fistfights and taunting. Grace ran her fingers through the little boy's fine blond hair. This hellion was the only good thing that had happened to them in a long time. Fiske repaid the sentiment with a kick to her stomach that sent her reeling. His feet were already pumping like pistons by the time she dropped him. Teetering unsteadily, he ran out the door to his croquet hoop and who knew what other dangers. With an apologetic glance at her sister, Grace followed. Sleep did not come easily to Grace these days. It had started with the bombing across the border in France. They were safe— Monaco was neutral so far, and even France had quieted under German occupation. But slumber continued to elude her. Clad in her nightdress, she gazed out the window at the dark Mediterranean. From the

说出他唯一的儿子的名字。他把这件事留给了比阿特丽斯。 菲斯克。这是比阿特丽斯对她哥哥的秘密报复，使他的童年充满了打架和嘲笑。 格蕾丝用手指捋了捋小男孩纤细的金发。 这是很长一段时间以来发生在他们身上的唯一一件好事。 菲斯克报答了她的好意，在她肚子上踢了一脚，把她踢得晕头转向。 当她把他放下来时，他的脚已经像活塞一样跳动起来了。 他摇摇晃晃地跑出门，奔向他的槌球圈，谁知道还有什么危险。 格蕾丝带着歉意瞥了妹妹一眼，跟在后面。 这些天来，格蕾丝不容易入睡。 一切都是从法国边境的轰炸开始的。 他们是安全的——摩纳哥到目前为止是中立的，甚至法国在德国占领下也安静下来了。 但她仍然无法入眠。 她穿着睡衣，凝视着窗外漆黑的地中海。 从