The moment she spotted Finn, she planned on springing into action to intercept him. She had to convince him to stay. They could sound the alarm about Mathilde’s plight from right here in New York. He didn’t have to risk his future. She silently rehearsed her arguments to persuade him not to go. He might do time in prison for desertion. He’d lose his kite shop and everything he’d ever achieved in his life.
The problem was that all her arguments were based on logic, while Finn was being led by his heart. His big, generous, good heart was about to be his downfall.
A few more businessmen arrived to board the ship, and she almost didn’t recognize Finn. Dressed in an ill-fitting tweed suit with a bowler hat, he walked slowly down the boardwalk. No cane. No dashing pilot’s uniform or jaunty silk scarf because he was smart enough to know he could be recognized if he wore his uniform.
She hiked up her skirts to run across the boardwalk, intercepting him before he reached the gangway. “Finn!” she cried as she rushed up behind him. “Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?”
A fleeting look of happiness lit his face, but it was soon replaced by painful regret. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I wrote you a letter. I was going to post it once I got on board.”
She batted it away. “I don’t want a letter. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you’re prepared to betray everything we have together to go off on a quest you know is bound to fail.”
“I have to try.”
She wanted to shake him for his brave and terribly shortsighted gallantry. Her carefully prepared arguments had vanished from her mind. All she could do now was to dig deep and speak straight from her soul.
“Don’t go, Finn,” she said. “Please don’t go. I’m begging you...”
He flinched with every word she spoke, and finally he interrupted her. “Delia, you’ve always been a rule follower. I’m not, and like I said, I can’t stay here in New York when I know Mathilde is suffering in prison and could lose her life.”
She wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. “How can you possibly save her? I’ve seen photographs of that prison. It’s a dungeon!”
“All the more reason to get her out of there.”
“But how?” she demanded.
He shifted uneasily and looked toward the misty horizon. “I don’t know, but I’ll have six days during the crossing to think up something. I’ve got friends over there. Fellow pilots. Maybe even some people in Belgium.”
An unsettling feeling took root in her gut. Aside from Mathilde and a few other resistance workers, the only people Finn knew in Belgium were affiliated with the CRB. If Finn used those connections to help Mathilde escape prison, he would be putting the entire operation in jeopardy.
“Please tell me you’re not going to put the CRB at risk again.”
“I won’t,” he assured her. “I learned enough about how the resistance in Belgium is organized to know how to get through to them without alerting the Germans.”
The more Finn talked, the more hopeless his plans sounded. She had to suggest a better alternative. Wesley had already given her a few ideas.
“Do you have a photograph of Mathilde?”
“No. Why?”
She told him about her visit to Wesley’s office to ask for his help, as well as his wanting to portray Mathilde as a heroic wife and mother, whose execution would no doubt inflame public opinion.
“You’ve seen Wesley again?” A trace of jealousy gave an edge to Finn’s tone.
“I went to him to ask for legal advice,” she rushed to explain. “He’s one of the best attorneys in the country for taking on unpopular clients and figuring out a way to win on their behalf. We can’t afford to turn his help down.”
Finn’s eyes crinkled in concern. “He’s too old for you.”
“At least he isn’t abandoning me to sail across the ocean on a mission that will probably get himself killed or imprisoned.”
He shrugged. “If you were in trouble, I’d do the same for you.”
“Sister Bernadette would say you’re letting your heart overrule your head.”
“And I would remind Sister Bernadette that I’m a Samson, not a Solomon.”
A reluctant chuckle lightened the mood, yet it vanished quickly. She put a hand on his forearm and said gently, “Finn, I had hoped we could have a future together, but if you board that ship, if you betray the Army and Bertie and me ... well, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.”
He sagged and turned away. “Delia, please...” His voice ached with longing, and it was terrible to hear, but she would remain firm. She wouldn’t go through the rest of her life yoked to a man who couldn’t control the wild, surging moods that drove him to near-suicidal risks.
