They finished with their experiment for the evening soon after.
“Father, you look tired,” Winnie said. “Why don’t Scott and I finish cleaning up?”
She wanted an excuse to talk to Scott alone, but the suggestion didn’t come out as casually as she had hoped. Winnie started disassembling the cathode ray tube with intense focus so she wouldn’t have to meet her father’s eyes.
She mentally braced for Father to reject the idea, or worse, to question her motivation, but he just said, “Fine. Give that a good dusting and pack it with the chamois when you’re done.” Then he left.
Once Father was up the stairs and out of earshot, Scott smiled and said, “Oh well. It was worth a try.”
“But what about James?”
Scott’s face grew serious. “I don’t want you to worry about that—I might be jumping to conclusions. In any case, I’ll get to the bottom of it myself.”
For a moment, she was tempted to tell Scott that she could see splinters and explain what she’d just seen. But although she often fantasized about confiding in Scott, the reality of sharing her oddness with anyone was terrifying. What if he didn’t believe her? Or worse, what if he did, and started looking at her the same way Father did—like a scientific mystery, or a tool for his own ends?
And that wasn’t even considering the danger she’d be in if more people found out about her ability.
The world was at war, and every action was now measured on a single scale: did it help the Allies, or hurt them? The groceries you bought, how often you drove your car, even how you disposed of tin cans and bacon grease—all of it was a weapon, either against the Germans or for them.
As a German immigrant, those scales were already set against Winnie. If people knew about her ability, they might expect her to be able to control the splinter possibilities, just like Father did. They might expect her to sway the war in the Allies’ favor. When she told them she couldn’t, that she had never seen a splinter beyond the scale of her own small life, what would people think then? What if they thought she was choosing not to help? Or worse—what if they thought she was trying to help the Germans?
No. Her ability had to remain secret. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d seen anything that would help them find James. She’d just seen enough to know that for once she needed to be brave.
“I’m going to the party with you,” Winnie said. “Sometimes my friend Dora and I go see a picture on the weekend. I’ll say I’m doing that, but I’ll go with you instead.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Scott, I know you,” Winnie said, cutting off his objections. “You wouldn’t think your friend was in danger if he weren’t. You wouldn’t think there was something suspicious about this Project Nightingale if there weren’t. So, I’m going with you, and we’ll get to the bottom of this together.”
He looked at her for a moment. Winnie could see uncertainty on his face, and gratitude—and some other feeling she couldn’t quite name, one that made her heart jump into her throat with giddy excitement.
Finally, Scott smiled and spoke.
“You’re risking a lot for some kid you don’t know.”
“Not for a kid I don’t know,” she said. If she could work up the nerve to defy Father, then she could say this. “For you.”
I would do anything for you. Winnie thought this so strongly that she felt like maybe he could hear it, even though she didn’t dare speak it out loud.
Scott looked at her so intently, and they were standing so close to each other, that for one wild moment, Winnie thought he might be about to kiss her. But instead of leaning in, Scott took a step back and allowed the moment to harmlessly discharge.
And yet, there was a little hitch in his breath that let Winnie know he’d felt that electricity too.
That evening, Winnie had dinner in the kitchen with Brunhilde while Father worked in his study, as usual. She might have seemed calm from the outside, chitchatting with Brunhilde and eating mashed potatoes, but inside Winnie thrummed with excitement. She was going to defy Father! She was going to a party with Scott!
After they finished eating, Brunhilde retreated upstairs to get ready for bed, and Winnie set about washing their few dishes. She had just finished drying the last glass when Father came in, footsteps nearly silent in his suede-soled slippers.
Winnie’s stomach gave a nervous twist. Father usually worked in his study later than this. Was Mama alive for him tonight too? Would this be a night of splinter experiments?
“I’m making some tea,” Father said. He sounded calm enough. “Would you like a cup?”
Winnie nodded cautiously. “Yes,” she said, then added a hasty “Thank you.”
He gestured to the kitchen table, and Winnie took a seat. She watched as he took a tin of loose-leaf tea from the cupboard—some herbal concoction their German greengrocer swore by for calming the mind—and measured a few scoops into the pot, then set the kettle to boil.
Once it was ready, he put two cups of tea on the table, adding a heavy pour of kirsch to his own.
“You think me overly strict, I imagine.”
Yes! Of course she did! But she couldn’t just say that.
Winnie added a small spoonful of sugar to her cup and stirred, trying to buy time as she considered how to respond.
“It isn’t like we want to go out dancing. It’s just a university event.”
“I’d rather see you at some nightclub than around those people. These professors are all vultures—and Hawthorn is one of the worst.”
But it was fine for Scott to take their classes? Fine for Father himself to work with them? Winnie was certain that if she were male, he would already be planning which courses she should take when she was inevitably admitted to Columbia.
It wasn’t fair.
“When she was my age, Mama was allowed—” Winnie stopped when she saw the look on Father’s face.
He took a breath, seemingly to calm himself, then a long sip of his tea.
“I know you don’t understand the dangers young women face in this world. I consider it a triumph that you don’t. Honestly, Winifred? I hope you never do.” He shoved his chair back. “Goodnight,” he said, then left without another word.
Winnie frowned. He wanted to protect her. He wasn’t trying to make her unhappy; he was trying to keep her safe. But his concern was misplaced. She wasn’t the child he seemed to think she was.
Winnie picked up the kitchen telephone and dialed Dora.
“Vandorf residence,” Dora’s housekeeper, Louisa, answered briskly. “May I ask who’s calling?”
The woman had been Dora’s nanny when she was younger, but with Dora’s parents gone so frequently (and a bit helpless even when they were there), Louisa had been kept on, becoming something like the household sergeant, managing the various drivers and cooks and maids needed to keep daily life luxe for the Vandorfs.
“Hello, Louisa! It’s just Winnie. Could I talk to Dora for a minute? I promise I won’t keep her long. I know it’s late.”
Louisa got Dora on the phone, and Winnie explained what Scott had asked her to do.
“You’ll help?” Winnie asked, a bit breathless with the excitement of it all. “I can pretend we’re at the movies together tomorrow night?”
“Oh! Oh yes! You can even get ready here. This is so exciting! I’m sure Mother has a cocktail dress you can borrow. She’s tiny, like you.”
“She won’t mind?”
Dora gave a sad little laugh. “They’re abroad, as usual. I don’t remember where. Switzerland? Somewhere Mother wanted to bring her furs. So no, I don’t think it’ll be an issue.”
Dora never let this sadness show at school. She glossed over the loneliness of her parents’ travels, and focused on the freedom their absence allowed her. It was different with Winnie. She supposed it was because she could commiserate somewhat. Both girls knew what it was like to miss their mother.
“Okay. Thank you, Dora.”
“It’s finally happening! I’m so excited for you, Winnie!”
Winnie smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
It felt wrong to be this excited when Scott’s friend was missing. But tomorrow, Winnie would see Scott out of his lab coat. Out of the lab! They would walk down city streets together. The two of them would be partners out there in the world.
It felt like the beginning of something.
It felt like the beginning of something wonderful.