ONE MORNING IN LATE July, unwilling to have yet another scene, Finn grabbed his keys and left the house, slamming the front door behind him. In the distance, on Lovering Road, he saw Schumann, slightly stooped, turning into their long drive—on his own two feet.
Schumann had taken the train and walked to the farm only once before—when he’d brought news of Omelian Marchenko. Finn stood on the porch and did not want to walk toward the tailor, the doctor, his friend.
Schumann wasn’t smiling. The men greeted each other near the road, shook hands. “You look like you walked here from Boston, Schumann.”
“Just from the station,” the older man said, out of breath.
“Let’s go inside, I’ll get you a cold drink. It’s too hot for you to be wandering the countryside. You should’ve called me, I would’ve picked you up as always.”
“It’s a beautiful day. I wanted to stretch my legs after a long train ride.”
Something behind Finn’s eye began to throb.
“Where’s Isabelle?” said Schumann.
“She’s not here.” Finn didn’t want to go into it. “She’s at Berkshire, helping one of Mickey’s broodmares.” He didn’t ask why Schumann was asking. He didn’t want to step over the minute now into the minute then, when one way or another her life—and his—might be irrevocably changed.
“I have news for her,” Schumann said, pulling out a telegram.
Finn stood motionless and soundless.
“Her husband and sons are on their way to Boston from Brindisi,” Schumann said, simply and directly. “I got word from Nate.” In his hands, he held a telegram.
Finn’s keys fell to the ground. He didn’t want to take the piece of paper from Schumann’s hands, the written side open to him, random uppercase words filling his vision.
HER FAMILY FOUND-MIRIK. SLAVA. MAXIM-SAFE-LEAVING BRINDISI-
“Oh my God.” Finn’s voice was hoarse. He didn’t know what to say. “She will be happy, so happy.” That was a good thing to start with. “When you said news, I didn’t know what to expect. For a moment I thought it might be the worst news. But it’s not.” His voice was failing him. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I did. This morning before I left,” Schumann said. “No one picked up. Besides, some things are probably best told in person. I wanted her to see it to believe it. Do you want to drive me to the stables?”
“Yes—of course.” Finn breathed deeply. “I just need a minute. One second.” With his back to the tailor, he walked to the side of the drive and grabbed the gate post for support. For a few minutes he couldn’t turn around, couldn’t speak. He was trying to find his heart, all the way by his feet in the dust. Finn searched for the thing inside him that would help him get through it. The wind whistled softly through the rustling leaves; the meadowlarks chirped; the summer song of a sunny countryside. Long ago he had a dream. He said to her, kiss me. And she did. He stared at his boots, his hands, the fence rail. He brushed some dirt off the white paint and forced himself to breathe and not break.
“If you want, you can go tell her,” Schumann said quietly, coming up behind Finn. “If that’s easier.”
Finn whirled around. “Her husband and sons are on their way to her!” he said. “What do you mean, easier?” He frowned.
“I meant easier for you,” Schumann said.
“Oh. Yes, well, it’s a shock, no question. You have no details?”
“It’s a telegram. Just facts. I suppose we’ll get the details in a few days. But Nate sent it days ago, and I picked it up just yesterday. They’re going to be here soon. A day or two at most.”
“Well, that’s something. Isn’t that something? That’s really something.” Finn got stuck. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. “I’ll take you. I was on my way to see her when you walked up.” He retrieved the dropped keys, dangled them in his limp hands.
The front door opened. Vanessa stepped out onto the porch. “Hello, Schumann. Nice to see you again.”
“Nice to see you, too, Vanessa. How have you been?”
“Can’t complain, can’t complain.” Holding on to the rails, gingerly she navigated the three short stairs. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” Schumann waved the telegram. “I have good news for Isabelle. Her husband and children have finally been found.”
Vanessa gasped. “Oh, that is the most wonderful news!” she exclaimed, raising her disbelieving gaze to the sky. “Thank you, God.” There were tears in Vanessa’s eyes. “Isabelle is going to weep from joy. I couldn’t be happier for her. We both couldn’t, right, Finn?” With a racked sob, she turned and rushed back into the house.
Finn ushered Schumann inside, got him a drink, excused himself for a moment, and stepped into the bedroom.
She sat on the bed, crying.
“Don’t cry,” Finn said. But he knew how she felt.
“Oh, Finn,” Vanessa said. “She’s wanted this for so long.” She blew her nose. “I’m hoping this means a happy ending for all of us, yes?” But glancing at the expression on his face made her feel worse for some reason. “Happy ending eventually, I mean,” Vanessa said with a stifled howl. “Of course not now.”
“Of course not now.”
“I’m perplexed by your face, darling. Are you and she planning to—I don’t even know how to say this—to make a different choice?” How brave of Vanessa to ask this. Her body shook as she spoke the words.
“Of course not now,” said Finn.