The new novel The Half-Life of Ruby Field by Lydia Hang is now available from author Lydia Hang. Set in Brooklyn in 1942, two siblings work stateside for the war effort when they find a mysterious woman hiding under their back stairs.
The full book is available from your favorite bookstore now.
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The Half-Life of Ruby Fielding
By Lydia Kang
Will was astonished at how he had let Maggie convince him to allow a complete stranger into their home. They knew nothing about her but what they could judge by her looks. And looks lied. They lied all the time.
Will was a perfect example of that. His tangled hair, broad shoulders, and sheer poundage of muscle made people think three things when he walked down the street:
Dumb as a rock.
Violent.
A danger to women.
He was used to people eyeing him with fear. It made his life easier in many ways. Sidewalks became less crowded; people rarely challenged him. But lately, with the war, the looks were more of confusion and slight disgust. He knew what they thought—his muscle ought to be doing something worthwhile in France. Instead, the words spoken by his mother to his fifteen-year-old self stayed with him every day, every hour.
Help Maggie, she’d said. It’s your duty now. I can’t anymore.
I just can’t.
She had spoken these words a week before she killed herself. And a decade later, Maggie attempted to walk into the same icy waters of Lower New York Bay with the goal of never returning to land alive. Will’s guilt was an incessant burden, heavy as a leaden cloak. He should have been more careful. More caring. He should have seen the signs, but he was too consumed with college and all the subatomic work with Fermi and what it could mean for the world. Luckily, Maggie had been found half-alive washed up on Brighton Beach, because she hadn’t had the foresight to weigh herself down before she’d tried to drown herself. All that, because she had been fired from a sewing job.
His mother. Maggie. The failures were watermarks upon his conscience that would never rub out. Coming home had been the only answer.
Will got off the trolley in Sunset Park and boarded the ferry to Staten Island. His work at the Dean Mill Plant would only take another day. Though they’d loaded one hundred and fourteen drums onto flat-bottomed barges yesterday, there was more ore to be shipped. The barges would float to the Lehigh Valley Railroad Company pier and be loaded into rail cars there. He didn’t know if today’s shipment was destined for Port Hope again, or a refinery in upstate New York.
The ferry was not terribly crowded. Most people were commuting into Manhattan and Brooklyn from Staten Island, not the other way around. Many would go to the shipyards. Which reminded Will—Maggie was starting work today. He wondered if she’d last more than a few hours.
While the ferry traversed the Narrows, he realized that he was being watched. Or at least, he thought so. He’d been grooming his ability to sense when eyes were on him. Will looked up from his physics book as the ferry approached the dock, motors rumbling louder as it positioned itself and slowed. There had been a man in the corner of the benches where he sat with a few other people, but when he looked up, the man had turned away. All Will could appreciate was his size. Six feet. Sloping shoulders. Clothes of an everyday working man, but hair that was salt and pepper, like someone a generation or two older. Will looked away, hoping the man would turn around again so he could catch a face. But when he looked up again, the man had left.
The book disappeared into Will’s canvas shoulder bag, and he took the railway to the Tower Hill stop. The Dean Mill Plant was a short walk from there. Beneath the Bayonne Bridge, there was always a pall of gloom. The few boats sliced silently through the water between Staten Island and Constable Hook, as if being graded for good behavior. The dirt underfoot was crumbled pavement, stone, dying weeds, and grass.
Today, the longshoremen were absent. Instead, one of General Groves’s men waited for him—an active duty army man but clad in civilian clothing, so as not to bring attention to himself. He stood as stiff as a board. You couldn’t have squeezed the army out of him if you tried.
“William,” he said, exhaling on a cigarette. “You’re late.”
Will paused. It was that woman’s fault he was late. See, he would tell Maggie. She’s already messing up our lives. In his mind’s eye, he saw the pulse beneath the smooth skin of her neck, her steady breathing as she lay unconscious on Maggie’s bed. His heart snapped an extra beat, and he coughed. “Won’t happen again. So. Not shipping today?”
“No. Here are your orders.” He handed Will an envelope and gently kicked a box at his feet. “You’ll need this too.” Will didn’t open the envelope; he simply stared for a long minute. If there was one thing that made humans uncomfortable, it was silence. They didn’t know what to do with it, except to fill it with words that gave away their inner thoughts—an arsenal of useful information.
The man stayed unhelpfully silent, turned on his heel, and was gone.
Will lit a cigarette, and opened the envelope. The note was simple. Perform inventory on the remaining barrels. Make sure they were full and gather samples for purity testing. His bosses needed to know that everything African Metals sent was as expected, and not a thousand tons of dog shit. The next line gave him pause.
Mrs. Rivers will be by at 15:00 to speak to you.
“Mrs. Rivers?” Will said aloud to nobody. Mrs. Rivers was the secretary for her husband, Archibald Rivers, who worked directly under General Groves. The secret murmurings were that Groves was working on a project at the Manhattan Engineer District that would end the war. Possibly a weapon. But what Will mostly heard about were the tasks meted out by Mrs. Rivers. He reported only to her, and his entire world revolved elliptically around when he would next see her to report on a job completed or to receive a new task. Otherwise, Will spoke to no one at the MED. He wasn’t army personnel or a scientist, like many involved at the level of Rivers and Groves, but his was the work that made the entire project possible. Finding places and items, moving precious metals, occasionally bending rules, all without bringing undue attention to the project. The army couldn’t work in the shadows. Will could.
He’d only ever met Mrs. Rivers’s husband once. As for General Groves, well. That would never happen. People like Will didn’t speak to such men.
