He looked at her and saw the shyness in her eyes and saw her faint flush, and he knew that it had not been easy for her. He said slowly, “Philadelphia first, I guess. To see my people.”
“I’d like that. And then?”
“I don’t know.”
“When will you know?”
He turned in the seat and held her hands. “If you stay with me, there’s an off-chance that I might know. I might be able to go — where I’m supposed to go. When my leave’s up you could take the car back to John — though it would be a long trip. I mean, if you stay with me it seems as if, right now, I might be able to go back. I don’t mean to stay with me in any sense except — just to have you close and somebody to talk it out with and try to help me understand it. Sisterly, or whatever the hell you want to call it. I can’t be in love with you until I know about myself, and if it comes out right, I want to be.”
“I’d like that,” she said gravely.
The morning sun touched her hair. She was the golden girl. He released her hands. A feeling of strength had begun to grow inside him. If, together, they could keep that, it would be a better kind of courage than the kind he had lost. It would be the kind Dick had had, a courage that included a full awareness of mortality, not the kind that presupposed your own invulnerability.
It was then, in the high blue sky, that he saw a twin vapor trail, with a metal glint drawing it slowly forward. He sat with her hand in his, and watched that shining dot until he could no longer see it. The earth-bound train sped north, up the east bank of the Hudson.