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Her eyes fixed on Ellen’s socks, and her lip slightly curled as she saw that the girl had knock-knees like her father. It looked like she was going to have his sense too. “Fine, you go ahead then. Play with that June and don’t come back whining to me about being bored when Nora makes you sit with your legs crossed.” She pulled her raincoat close to her body and braced herself for the wind.

      Because John couldn’t find a pair of pants that weren’t stained with engine oil, he and Ellen arrived late. With the benches full, the small chapel seemed even more compact, like one of those crates stacked against the cannery net loft. People huddled next to one another, knee to knee. There were even some fishermen who came in wearing rain gear spotted with silvery scales. Water dripped off their clothes, giving life to a small stream of water that steadily flowed toward the center of the room, where Frederik commanded their attention. He began to sing. His coarse voice was off-tune, but his eyes were closed as if every word emitted from his lips evoked the Holy Spirit.

      As soon as they entered, Nora took Ellen’s hand and led her to the back room.

      “I am glad you could make it this morning, Ellen,” she whispered. Her breath was warm and smelled of crackers. “We were just beginning to play a game.”

      Children who Ellen knew from the village had already made a semicircle around Kristen. The room was no bigger than a closet, but its walls were plastered with sheets of children’s art and scripture lessons. Seeing the other children and the walls of pictures and Bible verses, Ellen sighed as if she had finally found a place for herself. She wanted a picture on the wall. She wondered how it was to be Kristen, wearing long dresses and leading in games that her mother made up. The only game that Anne Girl ever played was to see who could pick berries the fastest, and she never let Ellen win.

      “Kristen, please show Ellen where she can sit. Perhaps next to the girls her age.”

      But Ellen saw June’s black, sleek braid and pointed to her friend. “No, I’ll sit by June.” She said this with such determination and loudness that Nora paused in mid-stride and stared at her.

      “Your mama here too? Mine is.” June hooked her arm through Ellen’s.

      Ellen shook her head. “No, she wanted to come, but she feels sick today. Next time, she and Papa will come together.” She traced the wooden floor with her finger. “She really wanted to come too.”

      As Kristen began to give instructions, the rain pelted against the roof—insistent, and demanding the attention of the churchgoers. There was a pause in both rooms, a communal appreciation before the voices continued with a new and louder fervor than before.

      Farther down the beach, Anne Girl walked. Instead of going toward the bluff to check the net, she meandered in the opposite direction toward the cannery. The argument had left her tired and her mind weak. To hell with the net. She needed something more than just a net to relieve the tension in her arms. It was rumored that some of the younger cannery men sold whiskey and tobacco to each other. Maybe they would sell a little to her.

      Anne Girl pulled the hood over her head and walked briskly past the chapel, not daring to look in the window. Not wanting to find a set of eyes that could see right through her. She told herself that it wasn’t a big deal, and when John cooled off they would laugh about it later. He would tell her that she was being silly, sneaking past the church as if she had something to hide. And she would agree. She was being silly.

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