The Pieces We Keep(39)

“Wow. That sounds like a better plane all around.”

“It can’t go as high though. Not with a combat load. It’s got the same horsepower as the Fortress, but the altitude ceiling’s lower. ’Cause of the Davis wing. And it’s heavier too, so the Liberator has to fly faster to take off....”

Audra stared with breath held. Though it was wonderful to hear Jack ramble on again about anything, his advanced knowledge of warplanes left her baffled. Yes, he had model planes in his bedroom, but he’d never described any in such detail.

Jack stopped and tilted his head at the bin. He pulled out a metallic gray object, the body of another bomber. Maybe a ship. He studied it for a long moment, running his fingers over the lines and bumps. A revelation darkened his eyes. With great intensity, he began foraging through the pile of pieces. He assembled two parts together, then added another and another.

“Is that a submarine you got there?” Dr. Shaw asked.

“U-boat.” Jack spoke absently, in deep concentration.

“Oh, sure. Hitler used them in the Atlantic. To fight America’s Navy, right?”

“Not this one.”

“No?”

“This one carried spies.”

“I see. And where did those spies go?”

“New York,” Jack said. “And Florida.”

Audra wrestled down the urge to intervene. She just hoped Dr. Shaw was trying to extract the root of the issue and not feed into an obsession, one clearly formed thanks to Devon’s father. Where else would a seven-year-old have learned all of this?

“Florida doesn’t seem like a very spy-like place to go.” If Dr. Shaw found this amusing, he managed to suppress any sign of it. “Those Germans must’ve had a tough time, landing there without getting caught. Seems like they would’ve stood out.”

“It’s because they weren’t just German,” Jack said.

“Is that so? What were they, then?”

Jack’s hands halted as he pondered this. For the first time since his arrival, he looked straight at Dr. Shaw. “Americans.”

A series of beeps shot from Audra’s purse. She’d set the timer on her phone for exactly an hour, and was now glad she had. She had heard more than enough to confirm the source of the problem. “Time to go, buddy. Let’s put the toys back.”

Jack rose right away but showed reluctance in placing the sub in the box.

“You can keep that one if you’d like,” Dr. Shaw said. “Another child left it here years ago. I’ve got too many toys as it is.”

Audra didn’t see how encouraging Jack with a war souvenir could be productive. If anything, she needed to distract him with another hobby. One glance at Jack’s smile, however, and she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. “Thank you,” she said.

“My pleasure.” Dr. Shaw came to his feet and said to Jack, “And thank you for sharing all those stories. Glad you set me straight about the B-seventeen.”

He nodded before Audra ushered him toward the door.

“Hey, Jack, I forgot to ask,” Dr. Shaw said. “How do you know so much about the war anyway?”

Jack turned with a crinkled nose, presenting his answer as the most obvious in the world.

“Because I was there.”





18


March 1942

Brooklyn, NY





The mystery continued to swell with time. It had been well over two years, and still Isaak’s disappearance trailed Vivian like a shadow. Her telegrams and letters produced no response. She fared no better with calls to his dorm. She had even tried Professor Klein, who she was told had evacuated at the start of the war. She liked to think Isaak had followed him, that in the safety of the English countryside they were biding their time until peace returned.

Most days, though, she simply regretted boarding that train. Whether staying in London would have reunited her with Isaak she would never know, but at least the distance dividing them would not have been so vast.

After arriving in New Hampshire, her mother had instantly melded into the social realm of her youth. Vivian soon learned that Luanne Sullivan, an old school friend from DC, had relocated to Brooklyn. The girl was receiving room and board in addition to pay for working on a switchboard. The fact that the company was still hiring had struck Vivian as a sign. New York. That’s where Isaak would go once he made it to the States.

So that’s precisely where Vivian went.

The company’s boardinghouse was a lovely brownstone in the center of Park Slope, an affluent section of the borough. Naturally, this reduced her mother’s objections, though Vivian would have settled for a shack. Location was all that mattered. Her bags were barely unpacked when she began diligent rounds of Isaak’s favorite spots: the shopping strips of Manhattan, the carriages of Central Park, the window displays at Macy’s. But with the passing of time and escalation of the war—America, too, had joined the fray-her efforts waned with her hopes.