Chapter Nineteen

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The fall finally arrived to East Plains in full swing by the first day of November 1947. And the cold rain that accompanied autumn's real arrival ensured that the townspeople East Plains remained inside their homes for the large majority of the day. The only times Finn saw people in the streets were when they were running from their cars to the store and back to their cars again to get home as quickly and as dry as they could.

This made it hard for him to get to Millie's house as often as he would like, but gave him the time he needed to really sort through the things that David had told him.

"Millie and her kids deserve someone who's around."

More than anything, Finn wanted to be that person. Well, more than most things. It would be selfish of him to want his own happiness over the greater good. That is, assuming he had the power to change the things he wanted to.

That's the other thing that kept creeping into his mind. The idea that, even if he did make it to DC, even if he was able to find the right people to talk to, what kind of real difference could he actually make?

Sitting by his ground floor window that looked out onto the street, nursing his hot cup of coffee, Finn tried to give his mind a break by diving into the newspaper. The front page talked of the weather and how the quick turn of seasons this late in the year yielded more crops than usual and the farmers were all raking in the profit this season.

There was a story about the USSR purging their ranks in occupied Germany. A story about a man shot near Madison but no shooter had been identified yet. Another manhunt for a small gaggle of bank robbers who held up a bank in Baraboo for twenty minutes and left the place littered with the cash they hadn't stolen. And a large section about the upcoming royal wedding in England.

England, of course, brought to mind Millie. And Finn's moment of mental quietude surrounding his predicament was over.

He folded the paper and dropped it onto the table, standing up and stretching his arms wide before downing the rest of his coffee and refilling his mug. Despite two weeks having passed since David's talk, Finn was actually more unsure of what he was going to do than he was before. When he went to Millie's house, which was most days, he was always so entranced by the moment that the difficult realities didn't come screaming back to him until he was alone again. Although he could tell that Millie was apprehensive. He must've been giving off some air of uncertainty and he knew he had to address it sooner or later. Later wouldn't be fair to her though.

Maybe if he explained to her about Niles, if he told her about how he died and why he was even travelling through here to begin with, maybe she'd understand. Maybe she would actually tell him to go and that she'd wait for him and that when he returned, she would be here. Same as always.

He looked out the window to the gray skies and the street soaked with rain, people covered in thick coats with knee high boots on, running to or from a car, as the obvious holes in his idea gave way. Even if Millie did say all of those things, Finn didn't know how long he'd be gone. It could be years. And he couldn't do that to her or her kids.

Back to square one.

Just as he was starting to get quite frustrated with himself, an urgent knock sounded from his door. He turned his head toward it and saw through the window, a drenched and jumpy form of his friend Caleb.

He hopped to and swung open his door, "Caleb, come in, it's raining cats and dogs out there. What are you doing?"

Caleb gripped the neck of his jacket tighter and ambled into the room, "Ahg, thank you, thank you." he said, "Sheesh it's cold out there."

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