Captain Romano shook his head. “We’ve got plans for you Stateside. News of your escape from occupied Belgium has been printed in newspapers from coast to coast. You’re famous here.”
People had been singing his praises ever since he staggered across the border between Belgium and France, but he never tired of hearing it. For an orphaned kid who had dropped out of school to work in a fish cannery, it was heady stuff.
“How famous?” Finn joked. “Don’t be shy. I want to hear all about it.”
The captain ignored Finn’s grin and continued with his instructions. “The Army wants you to ride along tomorrow in a war bondparade. There will be floats and regiments and plenty of music. You’ll be in the back of a truck, and all you have to do is smile and wave to the crowd. People love a war hero, especially one famous for evading the Krauts. Incidentally, how did you pull it off? The newspapers were vague on that point.”
It was the question everyone asked, but Finn vowed never to answer it. He smiled and acted nonchalant. “Pull what off?”
“How did you escape from Belgium back to France? That border has the most barbed wire, watch towers, and machine gun nests anywhere on the Western Front. How in blazes did you get through?”
“I guess the luck of the Irish was with me,” he said with a shrug.
Captain Romano folded his arms and waited. Finn didn’t budge. The silence in the room stretched and became uncomfortable. The ticking of the clock emphasized the standoff, but Finn would swallow his own tongue before he revealed the truth.
“I could order you to talk,” Captain Romano said.
“With respect, it wouldn’t do any good.” Maybe refusing orders wasn’t the best way to make a positive first impression on his new commanding officer, yet the Army needed Finn more than he needed them. He hadn’t formally enlisted as yet, but if push came to shove, he’d go back home rather than inform on the people who had helped him escape from Belgium.
Finally, Captain Romano banged the desk bell, and the clerk opened the door. “Lieutenant Delaney, you’re dismissed. Go to the intake office and sign your enrollment papers. And use that wheelchair. Again, so long as you are under my command, youwillobey orders.”
Finn nodded. “Yes, sir.” While he’d never been much for following rules, he’d have to choose his battles carefully if he was ever going to get back to France.
The enrollment office had dozens of desks pushed together like sardines in a tin. The rattle of typewriters and the hum of voicesfilled the cavernous space. Finn sat at one of the desks as a recruitment corporal fired off questions and typed Finn’s responses onto the blank forms. Finn answered every question, agreed to all the rules, and signed away his freedom with ease. His commitment to the cause was unshakable.
It wasn’t until the last form that he balked.
“Who shall we notify in the event of your death?” Corporal Nowak didn’t even glance up from the typewriter as he awaited Finn’s answer.
Heat gathered beneath Finn’s collar, and his skin prickled. No one. There was nobody. All his life, Finn had been the most popular man wherever he lived, and yet he couldn’t think of one person to put down on the form. He didn’t have a single relative or truly close friend. He had precisely nobody.
But then why should he care? He’d be dead.
“Just skip that form,” he said, glancing at the clock on the wall and wishing to get this over with.
“I can’t skip it,” Corporal Nowak rapped out. “The Army needs to know who to notify in the event of your death. I need a name and an address.”
Did Nowak have to say it so loud? On either side of him, others were easily supplying names of family members and wives. Finn was tempted to reach across the desk and tear up the form. He scrambled for an excuse. “I’ll fill it out later. I don’t have the address.”
“Then just give me a name,” Corporal Nowak said in exasperation. “We can hunt them down and be sure they get the death benefit.”
“How much is the death benefit?”
“Ten thousand dollars,” the clerk replied. “Who do you want to get it?”
Delia. The only girl he’d ever loved. She was the first girl he’d kissed, and the only one he wanted to marry. He would go to his grave regretting the way things ended between them. He still owedher three hundred dollars. The last time they saw each other, he tried to repay her, but she hated him too much to take it. She’d probably refuse the death benefit too.
“The name is Delia Byrne,” he answered. It had been ten years since he’d spoken her name out loud. It felt strange to say it, as though the name was forbidden for him to utter. They had once been everything to each other. Now he couldn’t even speak her name without feeling a rush of pained nostalgia and old regrets.
He straightened his spine and spoke more clearly. “Her name is Delia Byrne, and if I die and you can find her, give her everything and tell her that I’m sorry.”
3
Delia normally found the quarter-mile walk between the courthouse and the law office easy, but the massive parade down Broadway had brought the city to a standstill. Schools had been let out early, businesses were closed, and the judge had canceled all afternoon cases since the parade down Broadway blocked all through traffic.
This meant she and Wesley were free to return to their office, except the parade prevented them from doing so.
“Who thought a celebratory parade for a pointless war was a good idea?” she asked Wesley.
