“What happened in there?” she asked once settled on the bench opposite him.
He turned to gaze out the window. It would be easier to tell Delia that his outburst had been manufactured to win Taft’s sympathy, but he couldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “One moment I was fine, and the next an avalanche of memories rose up and I was drowning in them. Just about everything in Belgium was bad, and yet in a way things were good too. Does that make sense? Everyone was miserable, but theywere united, bound together around a cause. I miss that. I got to see the very best in people. Mathilde and Pieter and so many others risked their lives to help a complete stranger. Thinking of their sacrifice got to me, and I fell apart. Right there in front of President Taft!”
Delia looked at him now in the same soft, admiring way she used to look at him when they were kids. Which was ironic since he wasn’t behaving very heroic today.
He cleared his throat and patted her knee. “Thanks for not poking fun about ... you know, my bawling like a baby.”
Her palm was warm as she covered his hand with it. “Never,” she said with a gentle smile.
He turned his hand to clasp hers, and they clung to each other during the entire carriage ride to the train station.
Delia had never seen Finn break down like he’d done in President Taft’s office, and it was beyond upsetting. It was frightening. For it seemed as though he had no control over it, which wasn’t like Finn.
It was late afternoon when the train pulled into Grand Central in Manhattan, where they would part ways. While the subway could get her home in ten minutes, Finn needed to take the ferry across the East River and then board another train to Camp Mills, and she was worried about him.
She walked with him to the Astoria Ferry ticket window. “I can go with you on the ferry,” she offered, triggering a slight scowl from Finn.
“You don’t need to,” he said. “My crying jag is over for the day. Promise.”
“It’s not just that,” she said, stepping with him in the line for the ferry. “I’m simply in the mood for a boat ride.”
“You’re a bad liar, Dee. Really, I’ll be okay.”
She wasn’t so sure of that, yet the next ferry wouldn’t be leavingfor another thirty minutes, and she was starving. Enticing aromas coming from nearby vendor stalls selling roasted chestnuts, pretzels, and frankfurters made her mouth water.
“How about we each get a frankfurter?” she asked.
“They’re calledhot dogsthese days,” Finn said.
“Somepeople are calling them hot dogs,” she teased. “I want a good, meaty frankfurter.”
Five minutes later, they found a bench overlooking the harbor, where they ate the grilled frankfurters slathered with mustard and sauerkraut. The satisfying saltiness with just a hint of smoke made Delia’s entire body happy.
So did the fact that Finn seemed to have shed his strange mood. He tossed a few bits of bread to the sea gulls and teased her for having said the wordsauerkraut. “It sounds like a slur against the Jerries,” he joked.
She laughed before she could stop herself. It felt as though the years and distance between them was dissolving, and she loved wallowing in his affectionate gaze. It sent a quiet flutter through her.
Finn had always been handsome, with a chiseled jaw and impossibly blue eyes. When he teased her, it pulled them back into their old rhythm as though no time had passed, and the tug she felt in her heart was hard to ignore. She longed to move closer to him, lean against his shoulder, and turn back the clock.
She should be careful, even though right now, sitting beside him in the fading light, she didn’t want to be. What an idiot she’d been to nurture a grudge over money and for so long. All across the world, people struggled to survive, and she’d clung to a mistake made by a young man only a year out of the orphanage.
“What did you do before the war?” she asked him.
“Don’t you know?” He had the strangest expression on his face. It was part amusement, part curiosity. A wheeling sea gull descended to snatch the last piece of her bread, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from Finn.
“No. I never let myself think of it.”
His smile was tender but sad when he said, “I own a kite shop on Long Island.”
She gaped at him, surprised and amazed. She never should have doubted him. Finn could doanything. She listened with openmouthed admiration as he continued.
“I opened the shop seven years ago. It’s in a little town on the tip of Long Island called Windover. The town is pricey, but I bought the building and live above the store, so it works out okay.”
Cascading emotions made it difficult for Delia to think straight: pride and joy that he’d made their dream come true, but sorrow as well because she hadn’t been a part of it. “Is it like we always imagined it would be?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled, and just for a moment it looked like he might start crying again. But it vanished quickly, and he smiled and nudged her arm. “Nah,” he said. “Nothing could ever be as good as what you and I dreamed up. But I’m doing all right. I have contests every summer when the tourists are in town, and they’re all rich—they buy lots of kites. And the locals have been helping out by starting kite-flying clubs. I’ve got a club for kids, and another for those who like to get together to fly their kites. The wind in that area is out of this world. The beach is a great place for kite flying.”
Regret mingled with wonder as she took it all in. Finnwasthe same boy she’d fallen in love with. He was open and friendly and still dreaming big, and suddenly it felt as though their teenaged love affair was so close she could touch it.
