He managed a nod, hoping to God that he’d be there to see such a thing.
“Well, listen to me ramble,” Delia said. “I came here for a wellness check. Is there anything you need? Anything that might make this time more bearable?”
Food. He dreamed about food all the time, but all he’d been given since the day he arrived was turnips. Germany could barely feed itself, so they weren’t going to give them extra rations, but allowing the prisoners outside to stretch their legs and see the sun wouldn’t cost anything.
“Some time outside the cell for fresh air and exercise would be nice.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, and he nodded his thanks, even though it wouldn’t happen. Delia wasn’t a lawyer, and she didn’t work for the Red Cross. Even so, he was proud of her for pulling off this visit.
And yet it had been a risk. She shouldn’t gamble her life or her freedom for him. He wanted to warn her but had to choose his words carefully because the guard understood everything.
“I will be forever grateful for this visit,” he said. “I think you should return to New York. You’ll be safer there.”
“I can’t do that,” she said. “Bertie still needs my help. I’m staying in Brussels to make sure the shipments continue going where they’re most needed.”
His heart started pounding. There were plenty of people who could have taken a job with the CRB, and the fact that she was staying surely meant something. He didn’t want to talk about himself and so pumped her for news from back home. Talk of the war must have been forbidden because she stuck to safe subjects like baseball and how Babe Ruth was hitting home runs like he’d been born for it. She said she was trying to learn French, but it was slow going.
All too soon their ten minutes were up, and regret filled her face. “This is going to be the last time I’ll be able to visit you,” she said, and a deep, hollow ache settled in his chest. It took effort for him to manage a smile.
“I understand. And hey...” The next words were going to scorch. He might not survive the war, so they needed to be said. “When you do go back to New York ... well, the old guy isn’t so bad.”
Tears sprang to Delia’s eyes, but she was quick to swipe them away. “Stop being so valiant,” she said with a little laugh.
He grinned and shrugged. “I can’t help it. It’s who I am.” He sobered and met her eyes. “I’m serious, Dee. I want you to be happy.”
She drew a breath to speak, but the guard interrupted. “Your time is up,” the guard announced and gestured for Finn to stand.
It took every bit of his willpower to force himself to obey. Nevertheless, he focused on Delia’s face, trying to memorize every blessed detail, the curve of her cheek, the magnificent blue of her eyes. He would replay this image in his mind in the weeks and months ahead.
“Take care, Finn. I’ll be praying for you every day.”
“As always, I’ll need it.” He gave a final nod and turned away. Despair swamped him as he headed back to his cell. The stench of the underground hall triggered a surge of hopelessness, makingit hard to keep walking. How much longer could he take this? For a few minutes today he forgot he was a prisoner, but that was all over now. The sound of the lock sliding back into place sounded like a death knell. Every muscle in his body ached.
A tapping on the ventilation pipe was followed by the priest’s soft whisper. “Who was it?”
Finn closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t have the strength to talk about Delia right now, not when he was at a breaking point. “Nobody,” he answered, then turned his face to the cell wall.
Delia caught the hint of despair in Finn’s eyes as he was led out of the cell, and it haunted her all the way back to the Hotel Ravenstein. The heart-wrenching sight confirmed her decision to remain in Brussels. She would stay here and fight to improve his conditions as best she could.
It had been surprisingly easy to win a visit. The guard remembered her from their earlier visit to Finn, and by bluntly declaring she was here to conduct a wellness check, it worked to open Finn’s cell door. It wouldn’t work again, and this was likely to be the last time she’d set eyes on Finn until the end of the war.
Provided he was still alive. She confided her concerns to Inga on the carriage ride back to the hotel.
“There’s something wrong with him,” Delia said. “He was so thin, the collar gaped around his scrawny neck, and he seemed unsteady on his feet.”
“I’m sure seeing you was a balm for his spirit. And learning Mathilde is safe had to help, right?”
Delia smiled, for Inga always had a magical way of finding a glimmer of good amid the darkness. “Oh, I’m going to miss you.”
Inga and the others were leaving on a train for Rotterdam tomorrow morning, leaving Delia all alone in a city where she knew nobody and didn’t speak the language.
She and Inga walked arm in arm toward their suite on the top floor of the hotel and were greeted by a surprise the moment they stepped inside.
A huge bouquet of flowers graced the center of the table, an explosion of roses, lilies, and daffodils. A purple bow encircled the crystal vase that held the cheerful blossoms.
Inga glanced at Benedict. “Flowers for me?”
Benedict had a habit of bombarding Inga with flowers, but this bouquet was extravagant even for his hefty wallet.
