Chapter Twenty-Eight

Finn

Now

“I don’t wanna.” The girl, who couldn’t be more than five or six at the most, looked pleadingly at her mother, her small hands tugging insistently at Mrs. Ingalls’ burgundy winter coat.

‘ Please, Aunt Molly. I don’t wanna. I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be a good boy now.’ Funny how, after all these years, he still couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong that day some thirty years ago. What could possibly make a grown woman—who’d been found fit by the state to take care of him—lock him into a dark closet for God knows how long? Maybe it was because Aunt Molly had gotten a new boyfriend that she wanted to impress and there was nothing impressive about ‘ a snot-nosed toddler that isn’t even my own kid but some throwaway bastard.’ Or maybe it was because she had a suspicion that a rowdy—violent—fight would break out later that night once her dealer found out that half the meth she was supposed to sell had disappeared into her own veins. Who knew? As it turned out, it was only the first time out of many that Finn was shooed—sometimes dragged—into that dreaded closet until, at some point, it became his preferred place to be, the outside world just too chaotic to wrap his small child mind around.

“Finn?” Henry looked at him, a patient smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” Finn shook off the last remnants of his pre-Kennedy childhood, squatted in front of Mrs. Ingalls’ youngest—Phoebe—and smiled reassuringly.

“Hey there,” he spoke softly. “Phoebe, is it?” The girl threw him a suspicious look, still clinging desperately to her mother. “My name’s Finn, and I’m a nurse. Do you know what a nurse is?” The little girl pursed her lips, looking at her mother questioningly, who nodded back.

“Go on, honey. You can tell the nice man.” Mrs. Ingalls patted Phoebe’s right hand fondly. Tilting her head, Phoebe took him in warily, her moss-green eyes covered by a wet sheen, her auburn braids hanging loosely over her equally green coat.

“I thought nurses were ladies,” the child murmured, scrunching her pointy nose. Finn chuckled. It wasn’t the first time that people had commented on this or even mistaken him for a doctor instead.

“Well, both men and women can be nurses,” he smiled. The girl looked at her mother, who nodded affirmatively. They’d only made it a few steps inside the waiting room, so Finn pointed at the first examination room to the right. “You wanna see where I keep all my cool nurse stuff?” He nodded at the open door.

“No,” Phoebe murmured, her bottom lip quivering. Okay, tough customer, but it was hardly the first time that he’d had to pull out some extra tricks from his hat.

“Come on, honey. Mommy’s comin’ too, right Nurse Finn?”

“Of course,” he smiled broadly. “Mommy’s coming too, and she’ll be right there with you the whole time. Besides, how are you gonna dance around the Christmas tree when your foot is hurting like that?” At the mention of Christmas, Phoebe’s face lit up, and she bit contemplatively on her bottom lip.

“It won’t come out by itself?” She looked questioningly at Finn. “The… splitter?” She shifted on her feet, a flash of pain washing over her freckled face.

“The splinter ?” Finn corrected. “Well, sometimes they do, but mostly they need a little help.” He paused, looking at Mrs. Ingalls. “And your mommy tells me you’ve had it there for a while now and that it’s starting to hurt. Is that right?”

“I guess,” the girl shrugged, looking at the floor, kicking her maroon winter boots against each other.

“I think it’s infected. Swollen, Mr. Kennedy,” Mrs. Ingalls whispered. “I tried to get it out, but…” She tipped her head apologetically at Phoebe.

“Finn, please. It’s just Finn.” Mrs. Ingalls nodded. “And it can be tricky. Especially with kids.” He patted Phoebe’s head, which made her look up at him. “You know what, Phoebe? I think I might have an idea.” He tapped his chin with his index finger, pretending to be deep in thought.

“What?” The girl’s face lit up, curiosity splayed across her face. Turning toward Henry, Finn spoke casually.

“Didn’t we get that kitten in this morning that had a splinter in its paw?” Henry stared back at him, a huge question mark on his face, then it seemed to dawn on him.

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, smiling knowingly. “Mrs. Landon’s cat. Kitten.”

“You have a kitten here?” Phoebe looked around.

“Well, it’s down in the kennel, but Dr. Jenkins was just about to go get it. To get the splinter out. Weren’t you, Henry?” The veterinarian smiled broadly, bobbing his head eagerly.

“Sure was.”

“Okay…” The girl nodded tentatively.

“We were actually waiting for you,” Henry added.

“Me? Why? ” Phoebe bit her bottom lip, interest building across her face, her moss-green eyes lighting up.

“Well, you see, the kitten doesn’t really like grown-ups that much. Henry here tried to hold her, but she wouldn’t have it.” Henry nodded solemnly. “She’s real tiny, too.” Finn cupped his hands together in front of him, showing exactly how small the kitten was. It was tiny. That was no lie. It was the smallest kitten in the litter, and Mrs. Landon had brought it in last night because she was worried about it not feeding properly.

“That small?” Phoebe looked at his hands. He nodded, smiling softly. “Is it scared? Where’s the mommy cat?” she whispered, her bottom lip shaking.

“The mommy cat is at home with the other kittens. You see, that’s why we were kinda hoping that you could help us out, Phoebe.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. She’s really small and scared, but maybe if you hold her, Henry can pull out the splinter. You ever hold a kitten before?”

“I have!” Phoebe’s face broke out in an eager smile, all remnants of suspicion and worry washed away in an instant. “Our neighbor, Mr. Olsson, had kittens last summer, and I played with them together with Peter.”

“Peter?” Finn smiled.

“Yeah. My brother Peter. He’s seven.” There was a slight lisp to Phoebe’s pronunciation whenever she spoke her Ss .

“Then you’re a skilled kitten handler,” Henry nodded, an impressed expression covering his face. “Exactly what we need, right, Nurse Kennedy?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Finn rose, putting his hands in his pockets. “How lucky that you came in today, Phoebe.” The child smiled at her mom, then back at Finn, her eyes dashing excitedly around the room.

“Can we go get the kitten now?” she chirped.

“We sure can.” Finn winked at Mrs. Ingalls, pointing at the examination room. “In here, ladies. Dr. Jenkins, will you go get our other patient now that our kitten specialist is here?”

“That’s me!” Phoebe yelled, limping towards the room.

“Absolutely,” Finn laughed, following behind her, Mrs. Ingalls throwing him a grateful smile.

“From what I understood, Mrs. Ingalls, Mr. and Mrs. Landon would be more than grateful to get a few of the kittens off their hands,” Henry leaned in, handing her a green Post-it with Mrs. Landon’s phone number on it. He’d already asked Finn to give the couple a call while he found a handful of animal stickers for Phoebe. Ruth and Carl Landon were an elderly couple and a litter of six kittens was a little much for them, with four other cats already.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Jenkins,” she smiled gratefully. “I’ll give them a call when the kittens are old enough to leave home.” She looked over her shoulder at her daughter, who was sitting on the couch in the waiting room, the kitten safely tucked in her arms while she instructed Finn on how to pet the small animal. “Without scaring it, Nurse Finn.”

“Like this?” Finn asked, brushing his fingers tentatively along the kitten’s back, its fur various colors of gray, the tips of its ears black.

“Yes,” Phoebe nodded, apparently satisfied with Finn’s ministrations. “That’s pretty good, Nurse Finn.” After Henry had removed the non-existent splinter from the kitten’s right paw, it had been no huge deal for Finn to pull out the actual splinter from Phoebe’s left foot with a pair of tweezers, then rinse the wound and wrap the foot in some gauze.

Henry and Mrs. Ingalls came to stand next to them, Henry holding a small carrier in his right hand.

“Phoebe, can you put the kitten back in the carrier now?” Mrs. Ingalls coaxed. Getting up reluctantly from the couch, the girl sighed, then limped to Henry and carefully placed the small animal on the towel at the bottom of the carrier.

“Goodbye, Rosie,” she whispered, kissing it softly on the head. “See you soon.”

“Rosie?” Finn smiled.

“Yes. Mommy says Rosie and maybe one of the other kittens can come live with us when she’s old enough. Maybe in a few weeks.”

“I think she’d love that.” Finn patted Phoebe on top of her head. “And that’s a really pretty name, too,” he said, holding out his hand towards Mrs. Ingalls. She accepted it, shaking it gratefully.

“Thank you so much, Nurse Ke— Finn —truly. Thank you to the both of you.”

“Anytime,” Henry smiled, closing the door to the carrier.

“So, unless the wound starts to feel hot or looks red or irritated, you don’t need to come back. You can change the gauze in a few days, and then the wound just needs to heal.”

“Yes, thank you again,” Mrs. Ingalls reached for Phoebe’s hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s go get Peter from school and tell him about the kittens.”

“Yay,” Phoebe squealed, yelling over her shoulder, “Bye, Doctor Henry, bye Nurse Finn!”

“Bye, Phoebe,” they replied in unison.

Henry chuckled, his voice light and melodic as usual, his blue eyes so similar in color to Cara’s that it hurt.

“That went great, dontcha think?”

“Yeah,” Finn nodded. It had felt good being back to his old professional self again, even if only for a few hours.

“Sure glad you could stop by with such short notice. I don’t often have kids at the clinic.”

“No worries. Sweet kid,” Finn smiled.

“Yeah, real nice family, that one.” Henry nodded. “Look, I’m just gonna tidy up before we close. You can go on ahead if you want.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll wait for you if you don’t mind. We can walk back together.”

Henry headed for the reception counter, speaking over his shoulder, “Colton usually picks me up.” A pink flush spread across Henry’s cheeks, a dreamlike smile curling at his lips. “We can drop you off?” Finn nodded. He usually walked back from town, but the weather wasn’t exactly inviting today, a harsh wind blowing from the north with promises of more snow. “You mind if I put on some music while I go over the paperwork? Help yourself to anything from the fridge while you wait.”

“Music’s great.” The truth was that he’d grown used to it by now, Hank always having the radio running in the background, a cozy backdrop to their daily activities in the cabin.

“Cool,” Henry beamed, disappearing behind the counter, hooking up his phone to a loudspeaker in the corner. “Hope you don’t mind Italian. I’m kinda in my Italian era now. Trying to convince Colton to come to Europe with me,” he chatted away. “But gettin’ that man out of Nebraska is like gettin’ a rhino through a keyhole, you know what I mean?” he asked rhetorically before continuing, his voice all chipper. “I guess he’s like his uncle that way. I swear, those two are more like twins when it comes to their stubborn ways, dontcha think?” Finn nodded while Henry came up for air. “So, I’m tryin’ to expose him to Europe, you know? This week, it’s Italian. Food, music, movies,” he blushed.

“Italian?” Finn laughed. “Sure, why not? I could use a break from Hank’s country music or old-school blues.” Henry laughed loudly, too.

“Oh my God, yes! Exactly. This is country music country for sure.” He bobbed his head as the music started spilling from the loudspeaker. “ Prego !” He snapped his fingers. “Italian it is.”

It was like being catapulted back in time, Finn recognizing the opening chords immediately. He knew that song by heart, the haunting nature of the melody, and the melancholic edge to the singer’s voice. A song of the past. About the past. About that magical moment when you feel the whole world in your soul. Cara had explained the song to him before he’d recorded her dancing to it—more like fucking flying to it—in her dance studio in the basement of their parents’ house. It was the video she’d ended up sending to New York. The video that had gotten her accepted to the school of her dreams.

‘Why this song, Cara?’

‘Because it’s… it’s what I want to show with my dance. With my body. What I’ve always wanted to show.’

‘It’s beautiful. What is she singing about? Do you know?’

‘Uhm…’

‘What? Why are you laughing? Oh shit, is it a naughty song, sis?’

‘Yeah. Of course, it is! It’s Italian…’

‘For fuck’s sake.’

‘But it’s not so much the words themselves.’

‘Yeah, right!’

‘No. It’s more the feeling that the writer was trying to convey. You know… When you’ve just been with someone, and there’s this sort of… you know, magic in the air. And you don’t know where it’s coming from, and it vanishes almost as soon as you realize it’s there.’

‘Sex? Am I seriously talking to my baby sister about sex?’

‘Stop it! I’m a grown-ass woman in case you didn’t notice.’

‘I guess… Though I hate it. You growing up. Means I’m getting older, too.’

‘You’re not even thirty yet. Stop whining and let me tell you about the song.’

‘ Fiiine.’

‘So, yeah. It’s about sex. But he couldn’t write it like that. Explicitly. It was the 60s after all, in a Catholic country. The writer explained that it was, you know, the aftermath of a casual encounter, but… I don’t know. It’s more, I think.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Paoli, the writer, explained it as his way of capturing that moment where you understand that you are nobody, but there’s the whole world in your soul.’

‘The whole world in your soul?’

‘Yeah, I mean, he was, of course, an Italian man in the 1960s referring to post-orgasmic bliss after some random hookup with a lady of the night, but there’s just something about it, don’t you think? The idea of losing yourself. Either in a dance or in music or in someone else. Just for a fleeting moment.’

Shit. He’d never really understood what Cara had meant. The idea had been such a foreign concept to him. When he’d been with a lover, he’d always wanted to be anywhere else. He’d never once lost himself with Teddy, although they’d been together the longest. That essence she’d spoken of always eluded him. That moment, where you lose yourself but gain the entire world in return, was so incomprehensible to him. So unattainable. Only now, he knew. Now he fucking knew, didn’t he? Every fucking moment with Hank was like that, wasn’t it?

“Not again, sweetheart,” a deep voice boomed from the front door. “You tryin’ to brainwash Finn too?” Finn caught himself, quickly sweeping at the treacherous tears he hadn’t realized were trailing down his cheeks.

“ Amore mio , you’re early!” Henry called out, moving hurriedly from behind the counter, then half-dancing, half-skipping across the waiting room towards Colton. Leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his coveralls-covered chest, the mechanic grinned, “Not that spaghetti-rhymes-with-confetti music again,” he groaned.

“You know you secretly love it,” Henry chuckled, throwing his arms around Colton’s shoulders, the older guy’s face softening immediately. “It’s amore, Caro ,” Henry cooed.

“ Il Cielo in una Stanza ,” Finn blurted, Henry stopping before he could smack a kiss against his fiancé’s lips, a puzzled frown on his face. Getting up from the couch, eyes cast down, Finn headed for the door, grabbing his parka and Hank’s red scarf from the hanger on the way out.

“What now?” Colton spoke so much— too much —like his uncle at that moment.

“The song,” Finn rasped, his voice heavy with withheld sadness, his eyes burning. “ Il Cielo in una Stanza . That’s what it’s called.” The pair of them looked like he’d grown a pair of horns or tentacles instead of arms and legs. “I’ll walk home, I think,” he murmured, nodding at Henry. “See you later.”

“But… the ride?”

“Nah, I’m good. I feel like walking.” I feel like walking and never stopping. Perhaps he really had stayed too long; the past and the present starting to blend more with each day spent in Hayley’s. Suddenly, spring seemed so far away, the loss of Cara itching like an old wound. A wound that wouldn’t heal until he spoke those words to her and their parents that he’d never spoken. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. So, so sorry. Please forgive me. Please.