A stiff shrug was all the answer he got, and he scrambled for traction. “I finally became a pilot,” he said, though the comment didn’t impress her as much as he’d expected.
“Yes, I saw you at the Liberty Bond parade.”
He tried not to smile too widely. “You did? I hadn’t expected that sort of homecoming, but it was great.”
If anything, her expression got colder. “Congratulations. You must be very proud.”
What was wrong with her? He’d survived a plane crash and the crucible of hiding from the Germans for six weeks. Maybe she simply didn’t understand.
“I thought I was a goner for a while there. Hiding out in Belgium was rough, but I knew I had to survive so I could rejoin my squadron and fight another day.”
Delia’s eyes narrowed. “Fight? Why don’t you simply say ‘drop bombs on innocent people’?”
He blanched. “That wasn’t what I was doing. When I dropped bombs, it was on German soldiers who were occupying land they stole from the Belgians.”
“It’s war, Finn. It’s a filthy, inhumane war, and you shouldn’t have any part of it.”
He clenched his fists and looked away. He wouldn’t lash out. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard pacifists mouth off about things they didn’t understand, and Delia had good cause to hold such a view. Her father had died in a pointless war. Yet this war was different.
“Delia, do you know what’s going on over there? It’s in all the papers.”
“About how the kaiser bayonets innocent women and children? It’s just propaganda meant to stir up hatred and keep the war going.”
“I’m trying toendthe war, not keep it going.”
For once, something he said seemed to get through to her. She sucked in a quick breath and leaned in toward him.
“Then use your voice to speak out against it. People will listen to you. You can make a difference.”
“By getting America to call for a truce and let the Krauts get away with what they’re doing?”
He hated the scorn he saw in her expression. Delia used to look at him with love and admiration. That innocent girl was gone, replaced by this hard, cold woman who looked at him with contempt.
It wasn’t her fault she didn’t understand about the war. He should thank God she didn’t! He would carry the images from Belgium until his dying day and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. She might not even believe it if he tried to tell her. She was certainly prepared to dismiss anything she saw reported in the newspapers.
But he could tell her about Mathilde, the woman who had rescued him. What happened to Mathilde and her family wasn’t propaganda cooked up in a newspaper office to stoke sentiment. Mathilde’s life was a fate shared by millions of innocent people in Belgium.
“After I got shot down, a woman named Mathilde let me hide in her house,” he began. Delia said nothing, but at least she was listening, so he continued. “Mathilde and her husband have three kids, but after the Germans rolled through her town, they scooped up all the able-bodied men and carted them off for war work. They took her husband. To this day she doesn’t know what happened to him. He was a pharmacist, so it’s likely he’s been working treating soldiers so they can be turned around and sent back to the front. Meanwhile, she’s sitting at home with three kids and barely enough to eat.”
Although Mathilde did a lot more than sit around at home. Mathilde was up to her neck in resistance work, and any day could be her last if the Germans got wind of what she was up to.
Delia wandered to the edge of the garden, her shouldersslumped. “Dropping bombs won’t help people like Mathilde. Only getting politicians to the negotiating table can do that. And, Finn, you can help. If you renounce the war, maybe others will follow.”
She was so naive, although pointing that out would only get her madder. He summoned a smile. “Let’s talk about something else. Do you still fly kites? I saw there’s a new kite shop in the East Village.”
It was the wrong thing to say. If he hadn’t impulsively taken the money she had saved, he and Delia might be married and running their own kite shop now. Given the hint of sadness in her eyes, it was exactly what she was thinking too.
“No, I don’t fly kites anymore,” she said. “I used to love flying kites with you because I could daydream about what it would be like to soar above and beyond the clouds. Instead of flying for joy, you do it to kill people. You took the best of us and turned it into something hideous. To kill and maim.”
“To defend and protect and save.”
“You want glory and accolades for what you do. I saw you in that parade. You loved every moment of it.”
“Dee, stop—”
“I willneverstop. Not while this war continues.”
He turned his face away, wanting to weep at the sight of what she had become. The youthful dreamer was gone, replaced by this bitter harpy who didn’t know what she was ranting about. Still, three years of war had trained him to ignore his feelings. Lock it down, push it away, and stay calm. He focused his attention on a rose vine climbing a trellis as he spoke.
