Leena shrugged. “I’m just making an observation is all.”
“That’s what does it for you? Responsible?” he teased. “Maybe you oughta marry Will, then, doll, because I don’t even know what responsible looks like.”
A lie: responsible looked like his three little sisters whom he still bounced on his knee, and a father he had to heave out of his chair and up the stairs each night, and a frazzled mother he kissed on the forehead and called beautiful just to win a bare smile out of her. Leena knew all of that, but she played along, rolling her eyes.
“Heaven help me. Will, would you like to get married?” she asked, laughing.
Finn aimed a finger at him. “Don’t answer that.”
Will slurped his milkshake. “Wasn’t going to.”
///
Because it happened slowly, Will didn’t notice that his best friend was turning into a man until the transformation was complete. One day Finn walked into the Maddox front door, took off his hat, said, “Something smells good,” and he was a grown man, standing fully-realized on the foyer rug, each sharp corner of boyhood sanded smooth and firm. Cute had turned to handsome, in a sharp, lady-killer, rakish sort of way, mischief bright in his brown eyes. A cowlick on the side of his head had been tamed just enough to give his glossy dark hair an unruliness that Leena liked to run her fingers through. He was brown from the sun, and muscled from swimming and loading crates at the grocer’s where he was working that summer. Strong from hauling his father up and down the stairs, and from carrying Lillian on his shoulders.
“Mm, I’m glad I’m not the mother of any of these girls in town,” Will’s mother said. “He’s going to break all their hearts.”
But Finn only had eyes for Leena.
And Will…well, Will wasn’t sure what to make of the transformation, except now his tallness left him feeling more awkward than ever.
He wondered if Finn knew he was handsome when he looked in the mirror, because Will sure knew that he himself wasn’t – not by comparison. He was still gangly and coltish, and his black hair wanted to stick up in all directions. His jaw was too narrow and his ears too big, and his hands…don’t get him started on his hands. They were cartoonishly large.
One afternoon in late May, Will entered Mable’s Malts and found Finn sitting alone at their regular table, two shakes already sitting in front of him. Vanilla for himself, and Will’s favorite, strawberry.
“Where’s Leena?” he asked as he slid into the booth opposite his friend.
Finn shrugged. “Had to do something with her sister. It’s just us today.”
“Oh. Okay.” Will reached for his shake. “Thanks for this.”
Finn shrugged again, an easy smile breaking across his face. “I owed you from last time.”
“Aw, I told you not to pay me back for that.”
“Too late. Drink your pink shit and shut up.” He kicked Will under the table for good measure.
Will liked Leena, sure, but a tension in his stomach eased because she wasn’t coming. It was just the two of them, and the thought filled him with a slow-blossoming warmth. An unexpected-day-off sort of feeling. Like a holiday.
Sunlight fell in through the plate glass windows and gilded their spoons, their watch faces, the metal edges of the table. It cast deep shadows in Finn’s dimples. Found gold stripes in the ochre of his eyes.
The milkshake had pulpy chunks of fresh strawberries in it, and it had been blended to perfection, rich on his tongue. There was nowhere to be, no pressing business to attend to.
One of those idyllic early summer days people spent all year chasing.
Finn pushed his glass to the side and leaned forward, elbows on the table. He looked much older, suddenly, as his expression sobered. “So listen. I’ve been thinking about something.”
“Shit,” Will sighed, and slid his half-drunk shake to the side too. Finn thinking tended to wreak havoc on his appetite.
“No, no, hold on. It’s not a shitty idea.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not!” He ran a hand through his hair and somehow managed to make it look better in the process. “I don’t want to go to college.”
“You gonna work at the grocer’s forever?”
“No.” Finn started to look a little nervous, but his voice was firm, sure, when he spoke. “I want to join the Marines.”
Will sat back and braced his hands on the table, needing to steady himself. The thing was, he should have known this was coming. Finn’s obsession with going to war had intensified over the years since James’s death. It wasn’t a boy’s obsession with toy soldiers, but something Finn thought about often, and deeply, that he’d furthered with research, hunched over library books about military history. What had happened to his father and half-brother should have driven him as far away from the military as he could get. Instead, their losses only seemed to fuel him. Will was convinced there was a small voice chanting but I can make it in the back of Finn’s head. That, somehow, surviving would be the single greatest step he could take toward towing his family out of its own quiet grief.
Will knew better than to start an argument. It was all about convincing, not fighting. “What does your mom think about that?”
Finn blinked. “What’s she got to do with it?”
“Well,” Will said, carefully. “I think she’d be really upset if something happened to you.” If he came home in a pine box like James.
“Will, if boys didn’t join up because of what their mothers thought, there wouldn’t be a U.S. Military.”
“But we’re not talking about the military. We’re talking about you.”
“Right. Me.” Finn puffed up, anger creeping into his voice. “Which means it’s my decision.”
Will held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I never said it wasn’t. It’s just that…”
“What?”
“It’s a decision that affects other people, not just you.”
“Mom can–”
“What about your sisters? What about Leena?” Will bit his tongue, told himself not to say it, then, unable to help it: “What about me?”
A smile broke across Finn’s face. “See, that’s the other part. You ought to join up with me.”
///
“I hope his mother tans his hide,” Will’s mother said later that night. “What’s he thinking? He’s not, that’s the thing. He’s not thinking at all.”
“He’s still got a while yet, Helen,” Will’s father said, a soothing hand on her arm. “He may change his mind. Elias will talk sense into him.”
“Elias?” She snorted. “Since when does he talk to anyone? The old drunk.”
“Helen.”
“He is a drunk. And Finn’s an idiot to go running off and leave his mother and sisters with no real man at home to take care of them.”
Dan Maddox heaved a sigh. “I take it you have an opinion on the matter, darling.”
She sent him a dark look. “You’re not funny.”
Will ducked his head over his plate and decided not to tell them that earlier, when Finn said Will ought to join up too…a very small part of him wanted to say yes.
June 1947
Julia Murdoch drove a ’46 Chevy Fleetmaster that Finn had free use of. It was the muted yellow of a just-ripe banana and they both thought it was the ugliest damn car they’d ever seen. But it ran well, and it beat walking, so they didn’t take it for granted.
Will sat in the backseat, the third wheel as usual. He’d tried to beg off for the evening, let Finn and Leena have a proper date, just the two of them. But Finn had insisted he come along, and Leena had seemed eager too. So what could he do?
Leena twisted around and hooked her arms over the top of the front seat so she and Will were face-to-face. Her grin made his stomach cramp.
“Will,” she said, voice bright. “I wanted to tell you this before, but Finn thought you might not come along with us if I did.”
The cramp tightened, twisted, pushed upward toward his throat. He s
wallowed hard. “Tell me what?”
Leena’s eyes cut toward Finn – she caught her red lower lip between her teeth – and then came back. “This is a double date.”
“What?”
“My friend Mary’s waiting for us at the theater – oh Will!” she exclaimed when he made a face, “don’t say anything yet. Just wait. Mary’s the nicest girl and I think you two will get on great. Just wait ‘til you see her, okay? Then you can fuss at me all you want.”
Will let out a deep, shaky breath and tried to smooth his collar down. “Wish you’d told me,” he grumbled. “I’da dressed better.” He glanced up and caught Finn’s smiling gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Pal,” Finn said, laughing, “you couldn’t dress better if your life depended on it.”
By the time they reached the theater, Will’s palms were slick with sweat. He felt his shirt sticking to his back, his pants catching at the backs of his knees. His legs felt weak as water when he climbed out of the car, and he had to hold onto the door a moment.
All of this over a date. Pathetic.
The problem was that he couldn’t talk to girls. Not with Finn’s easy, unaffected charm, that hint of naughty intent that made every woman he’d ever met giggle into her hand. No, Will was awkward, and he couldn’t ever think of anything interesting to say, and he always made a giant mess of it. Finn was the charmer, the daredevil, the dreamer. Will was the steady companion. Finn was Robin Hood and he was Little John.
When he shut the door, finally, Leena stood in front of him, and she reached out to take both his big hands in her small ones. If she felt how clammy they were, she made no mention of it.
“Will,” she said, all steadiness and authority. “Take a deep breath and wait right here. I’ll go get Mary.” She reached to settle his collar before she walked away, fingertips cool and practiced.
When she was gone, Finn stepped up beside him, threw an arm across his shoulders. It was a bit of a stretch, but they still fit, and it was an immediate comfort.
“Stop sweating,” Finn teased, patting his shoulder. “She’ll think you smell.”
Will sighed. “I’m terrible at this.”
“Of course you are. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Wipe your hands, here they come.”
Leena walked back into view arm-in-arm with a fair-haired girl a few inches taller. She was slender, willowy, and her dress was a pretty pink that offset her pale skin tone. She ducked her head when Leena led her up to Will, a blush staining her cheeks.
“Will,” Leena said, “this is Mary. Mary, this is Finn’s friend Will.” She released Mary’s hand and gave her a gentle nudge forward, looking between the two of them expectantly.
Finn cupped Will’s neck and squeezed once, then withdrew his arm.
Will took a deep breath, wiped his palm down the side of his slacks, and extended it toward Mary. “Pleasure to meet you.” At least his voice didn’t waver too badly.
Her hand was smooth and cool in his, lively as a piece of porcelain. “Hi,” she said, still blushing and shy. She withdrew her hand the moment he released it.
“Mary,” Leena said in a voice like a parent encouraging two children to get along, “Will just loves books. He reads all the time.”
Mary’s head lifted, a careful spark of interest in her gaze. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.” Leena’s smile was all teeth and red lips. Like a vampire, Will thought. “Will, Mary likes Jane Austen. You two should have a lot to talk about.” She made a little motion with her hands, like she was arranging them in her mind, lining them up together.
“Well, kids,” Finn said, holding his arm out gallantly for Leena. “Shall we?”
Will extended his own arm and Mary touched it with just her fingertips. They followed Finn and Leena into the theater like that.
///
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Finn insisted, and tipped the bottle over his glass again. Amber liquid purled up the sides, more than he should have poured. Especially considering they nicked the bottle out of Elias’s cabinet.
Will took the bottle and refilled his own glass. “You were there. You saw it. It was bad.”
They were in Finn’s room, sitting across from one another on the rug with their pilfered bourbon. Finn had kept a straight face until he’d kissed Leena goodnight and walked back to the car where Will had climbed into the front seat and was sulking. Then he’d burst into helpless laughter.
“Your face,” Finn said now, laughing quietly. “I didn’t know if you were gonna lose your dinner or walk right out of the restaurant.”
“Ugh. She didn’t understand any of the satire in Pride and Prejudice. She said her favorite character was Wickham. Wickham, Finn! She thought he was romantic. And that Lizzy was cruel to him.”
“Well I don’t know who any of those people are.” Finn took a healthy sip and made a face. “And I wouldn’t have cared anyway.”
“You wouldn’t have cared that your date had no reading comprehension?”
Finn placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will. Buddy. My pal. Who cares about that?”
Will scowled. “Easy to say for you: you’re not dating a dizzy blonde.”
“No, I’m not.” Finn leaned back, and that was when Will realized how close together they’d been leaning, heads almost touching. Finn braced his hands back on the floor and sighed, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t what Will expected. “For what?”
“Dragging you out tonight. I knew you’d hate it.” Because they were the sort of friends who never really wounded one another, most apologies were given with a laugh or a wink. But this one was heartfelt, and Finn looked sad around the eyes. The sight put a lump in Will’s throat.
“I didn’t hate it.”
“Yeah, but that’s not your scene.”
“What, girls?”
“Surprise girls,” Finn said. “A blind date like that. Thanks for indulging Leena.”
Will bit back what he wanted to say, and instead said, “I know Leena means well. She’s a sweet girl.”
“Yeah.” Touch of wistfulness in Finn’s voice. Then he shook himself and sat forward again, forearms braced on his thighs. “We’ve got to find you the right girl is the trick. The one who’s perfect for you.” He grinned. “Your very own Leena.”
Will rolled his eyes. “My very own Leena would eat me alive.”
Finn laughed. “Yeah, but you might enjoy it.”
His laughter was infectious, so Will found himself chuckling along, shaking his head.
Finn drained the rest of his glass and said, “Hey, you know what would be fun?”
///
At one point in the four-mile drive to the Maddox house, Finn clapped a hand over one eye because he, quote, didn’t know which of the two roads stretching before them he was supposed to drive on. Comforting.
“I could have walked,” Will said for the seventh time when they were parked in front of the carriage house, miraculously intact.
“You think I drove all the way over here just to drop you off?” Finn asked with a tipsy smile. “That’s real flattering, but you ain’t my date, Maddox.” He opened his door and staggered out from behind the wheel. “I’m just here for your tire.”
“My what?”
“Just come with me, you big lug.”
The dew had already settled, and they were wet up to their hips by the time they waded through the uncut summer grass in the back field. Will’s slacks clung to his legs and he knew his mother would chastise him when she found them in the laundry hamper, but no chastisement in the world could have kept him from following Finn out to the old barn.
It took both of them to heave the doors open, hinges rusted and grass growing up through the thresholds. Summer moonlight poured down the center aisle, catching on cobwebs and slumbering hornets’ nests. The thick planks that made up the stalls and tack
room were all still in place, all still solid, but time seemed to keep whittling them down, thinner and thinner. There were gaps between the boards now. It all looked like a doll’s barn, something a child had composed for a bunch of toy horses. Even shielded from the elements, the working part of the building was slowly shrinking down into oblivion.
The tire swing held pride of place in the center of the aisle, still suspended from the central beam overhead, right where Will’s father had secured it eight years ago. He had countless memories of pushing Finn on it, of Finn grabbing his feet and winding him around and around, letting him go so he spun like a top. The tire was spidered with cracks, but it still looked solid enough. The rope was anyone’s guess.
“Think it’ll hold?” Will asked, because he wasn’t sure that it would at all.
Finn rolled up his shirtsleeves and shot him a quick wink, eyes glittering in the moonlight. “Only one way to find out.” He launched himself at the swing, took a running leap and landed with his feet braced on the wall of the tire, arms taking a practiced hold on the rope.
“Jesus,” Will hissed, anticipating disaster. At the least, Finn would fall on his ass. At the worst, the beam overhead might come crashing down on their heads and bring the whole roof with it.
But the components all held, the tire swinging slowly back and forth like a pendulum, Finn crowing in triumph from his perch.
“Damn, I missed this,” Finn said, voice too-loud and fuzzy with bourbon. “Why did we ever stop coming out here?”
Will watched him, unable to hold back a smile. “Maybe because we got too old for it?”
“Nah. No such thing. Get your ass over here and push me.”
It was muscle memory overlaid with sense memory, stepping up to the swing and catching the rope in one hand, palming the fat rubber of the tire with the other. He started up a slow pattern of pull and push, until there was enough momentum that he was barely touching, merely keeping the tire in its arc.
Finn clung tight to the rope, threw his head back, and howled at the moon shining through the door.
Walking Wounded Page 9
