Chapter Four

Finn

Then

“… and that’s when Mom and Dad came to save me, Cara.” Cradling his now sleeping baby sister in his arms, Finn rocked back and forth in Great Grandma Lily’s old rocking chair. Cara would usually settle down the minute he started rocking, the soothing movement of the wavelike motion making her eyelids droop until she drifted off to sleep. Since the nursery was right next to his bedroom—and Mom and Dad’s room was further down the hall—it was usually Finn who awoke first when she started fussing at night. As soon as he heard her small whimpers, he would rush next door to her room and quickly turn off the baby alarm. If you asked him, it was because he wanted his parents—his hard-working dad and his sleep-deprived mom—to sleep through the night. But in secret, Finn cherished this sacred time at night when the entire world was asleep, and it was just him and Cara.

Brushing his thumb along her eyebrow, he smiled at the way her dark eyelashes fluttered like tiny little moths. Her round baby cheeks were painted in pink, her pouty rosebud mouth just about the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Cara was only three months old, but Finn had already lost count of the most likely hundreds of times he’d kissed her forehead, her rounded chin, and her button nose. Squeezing his eyes tight, he swallowed before murmuring against her forehead, “You see, the not-so-nice lady—let’s call her Molly—never really wanted a kid to begin with. She sorta just got stuck with me after my birth mom went to get cigarettes from the truck stop and never came back.”

Finn didn’t actually know if that’d been the case, but he always heard the grown-ups say stuff like that. ‘Bob Smith went out for cigarettes and never came back…’ Brushing his index finger along the small dip between Cora’s dark brows, he contemplated how to explain something to a baby that he’d never fully understood himself. Something Mom and Dad had patiently helped him put into words whenever he’d felt sad or confused.

“You see, Baby Cara, sometimes people have a baby even though they don’t want one. Not everyone is like Mom and Dad, praying hard every day for a baby to come.” He swept his finger along her brow, trailing the outline back and forth, her skin so fine and translucent beneath his touch. Whereas Finn was fair, his wavy blond hair and brown eyes a constant reminder that he was different, Cara was as dark in her colorings as their dad, whose hair was as close to black as you could get without it being black. Their dad’s eyes were a deep midnight-blue and his strong features a reminder that the Kennedys originated from Scotland.

The baby stirred in his arms, her little face scrunching up, her tiny nose looking as if she was smelling something foul. At first, Finn had been afraid to hold his sister, worried that he would squeeze her too hard or not hold her firmly enough, and she would slip from his grasp. Holding a real baby was nothing like cradling a doll—the doll was stiff and lifeless whereas Cara would move constantly, her small legs kicking and her neck not yet strong enough to carry the weight of her oversized head. His dad had shown him how to hold her head up, his hand firmly supporting the back of her skull. At first, it had been difficult, but now Finn could do it in his sleep, Cara just a natural extension of himself when he held her.

“You’re a lucky baby, Cara. To be born into this house. You were wanted.” Deep in his heart, Finn knew that his parents loved him every bit as much as they loved his sister, but at times, it still left him with a feeling of jealousy that he was not biologically theirs. On paper, he was, but not in blood. He felt bad for feeling this way, but somehow, he couldn’t get past it. That, out there in the world, there was a woman who perhaps looked exactly like him. Who’d given birth to him and held him in her arms, and yet she hadn’t deemed him important enough to stay for. To be a mother to him.

Leaning in over the baby, he pressed a soft kiss to her warm forehead, before burying his face in her sparse dark hair. The downy strands tickled his nostrils as the sweet scent of an untainted baby enveloped him. Closing his eyes, he continued to rock back and forth, just stealing a few more minutes with his baby sister until he would place her carefully back into her bed. He’d chosen the pale yellow blanket that she slept with, the print of small penguins catching his eye right away in the baby section at Walmart . He’d gone there with his mom when she was six months pregnant, a day trip into Eugene, just the two of them.

After they’d gotten everything they needed for the baby, the trunk of their silver-gray Ford Explorer stuffed to the brim, they’d visited the Oregon Air & Space Museum. It wasn’t even an option to go to Eugene without visiting the museum. All the exhibits were cool, but Finn always steered directly toward the Skyhawk. It was his favorite, and he had an entire collection of model planes on his shelf at home, the Skyhawk predominant. Jet-powered, it had replaced the Skyraider in the early 50s and had become a quick favorite, also known as the Bantam Bomber or the Mighty Mite. With a range of 2000 miles and a maximum speed of 673 mph, it weighed less than what the Navy had at the time and Finn would often picture himself in full aviation gear, high in the sky behind the steer of the Skyhawk.

On the trip back home to their small coastal town, Florence, he would dream of going to the Air Force Academy, becoming the best in his class, a true daredevil, doing dangerous, top-secret missions that no one else would venture on. Maybe Cara could become a pilot, too. They would be known as the Kennedy siblings across the US, receiving countless medals from the President for their covert missions and outstanding bravery. Yeah, that would be something alright. Those were the kind of big dreams that Finn would envision for himself when he was lying back in his bed at night after having tucked Baby Cara safely back under the penguin blanket. Eyes fixed on the large poster of the Skyhawk on the wall across from his bed, he would struggle to keep his eyes from shutting closed. His heart would pound softly in his chest to the repetitive rhythm of the ocean waves spilling through his slightly ajar window. While he finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of undercover missions and daring air moves, he would murmur quietly, ‘ Officer Finn Kennedy and Officer Cara Kennedy, please accept this medal on behalf of the people of the United States of America for services rendered in…’