On this late autumn day in 1944, all three Fiskare sons were home on leave, all three certain it would be the last time for a long time. They’d received no definitive orders, no word of a future mission, no hints at the master plan. As grunts, they were the last to know where they’d be going, and when, and what for. But each had a feeling the time was nigh and a reckoning was due. Emil must have felt it as well, for he’d done something Kennet thought extraordinary.

His first night home, Kennet sat down to a game of backgammon with his father and noticed a strange glint of gold along Emil’s neck. Strange, because the men of Kennet’s time were largely unadorned. Men’s jewelry was understated to the point of invisibility: cufflinks, collar pins, tie pins, wristwatches, even a signet ring on the pinky—these were rare, but acceptable. Necklaces were far out of the ordinary. It took Kennet’s nape a good few months to get used to the feel of the ball chain with his dog tags. Of course, now he felt odd when he took them off. Slightly naked without their weight at his neck and their tiny clinks and clanks against his chest. Still, it was military issue, not a fashion statement. What the heck was Emil wearing?

“Paps, what is this?” He reached across the little table and hooked a finger inside Emil’s collar.

Emil’s hand came up with a jerk as if to stop him, then he smiled sheepishly. “Oh, just something to soothe your worried old man.”

Across the first joint of Kennet’s finger ran a gold chain, but unlike any he’d seen. Its flat, gold links cunningly fit together like tiny cubes. Pulling it further from Emil’s shirt, Kennet saw the Old Bear’s Saint Birgitta medal suspended off the chain, along with two of the tiny gold fish that were once his watch fobs.

“Where’d you get this chain?”

“The deWrennes made it.”

“Why?”

“Because… See, after Minor was wounded and Nalle joined up, I needed something more than just plain hope. I needed…magic, I guess. No, not magic. A charm. A talisman. Something real and tangible to symbolize all three of my boys, something to hold and touch and keep close to me. I told Major, and he went up to Montreal and had the chain made. Then he gave me his gold fish, so I’d have three things to hang on it. Tre fiskar. Tre önskningar.”

Three fishes. Three wishes.

“Look at that,” Kennet said, gathering the two fish and the medal together. They made a satisfying handful, warm and weighty, clinking together like his dog tags. “It’s handsome on you. I like it.”

“It’s silly,” Emil said, glancing down.