Chapter 23. Gladdie

March 31, 1945. Brooklyn / Queens

When Steve came out of his bedroom, dressed in his uniform for the dance he wasn't happy to see Bucky sitting on the sofa in the flat they shared, still in his civvies. Part of the reason they were allowed to live in a regular place while both were on medical leave was to get Bucky used to being in public again, with his physical disability on display, especially since the planted rumours of him began circulating again. Their appearance together was crucial to counter those rumours, propaganda that had been planted in the newspapers by HYDRA supporters. The other Steven told him that Bucky had to be encouraged to accept the changes in him, even with one arm. Sitting at home alone, reading, instead of reclaiming his social nature wasn't healthy.

"You're not dressed," stated Steve.

"I'm not going," replied the dark-haired man. "People stare at the arm. They stare at me. I can hear them whisper about being HYDRA's spy."

"We all know you're not," said his blond friend. "We found the person responsible and publicly charged them with espionage. Now you have to show your loyalty by having a public presence with Peggy and me. If you're with us, they'll know we trust you. They'll trust you by association, but you have to be visible. If you just hide, they'll say you're hiding for a reason."

"They won't be wrong."

"Bucky, just come with me and Peggy," said Steve, slightly exasperated at how easy it was for Bucky to slip back into his self-deprecation. "I hate to see you moping around. Maybe you'll meet a nice girl."

"Who would want to be seen with me?" he asked. "I'm not the man I was before. The lack of an arm is visible proof of that."

"Bullshit," replied the blond, bringing raised eyebrows from his brunet friend. "You won't be the only veteran there missing a limb. Hell, you remember Teddy Miller. He lost an arm and an eye. Went to a dance, met a girl, and they're getting married next week. If that farm boy can do it, so can you."

"Fine," sighed Bucky. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Several times on the train to Queens, Bucky almost turned around and went back home but the thought of his parents seeing him return to the flat across the way, and looking at him as if he was damaged goods was almost as bad, even though they didn't do that in reality. When they arrived at the dance hall, Bucky paid his admission and checked his hat, then went straight to the bar, ordering a double whiskey. Steve and Peggy were already on the dance floor, and he smiled grimly at the prospect of Steve being the one to outdo him in the women department, especially since they just got officially engaged and were planning to get married this coming week. Downing his drink, he ordered another and this time turned around so he could see who else was there.

As he scanned the couples dancing on the floor, he shook his head at the number of guys with two left feet before the war now dancing with a beautiful girl. He recognized several girls he had dated before he shipped out but when they saw him watching, their eyes flickered to the remains of his left arm. All he saw in their eyes was pity and he looked elsewhere. Just as he was about to down the rest of his second drink he saw her, a taller voluptuous blonde in a blue and green dress, on the other side of the dance floor, leaning against the wall with her own drink, watching the dancers with a sense of longing on her face. He had never seen her before, although there was something familiar about her, so he kept watching her, liking how she had her pale blonde hair up in a, what did they call it? A French roll: something he thought was elegant looking. She hadn't seen him yet as she was watching the dancers. Then suddenly, her head turned, their eyes locked and he raised his glass to her, sipping from his glass. She smiled slightly then drank from hers. He turned to the bartender.

"The tall blonde against the wall," he said, pointing her out. "What's she drinking?"

"Gin and tonic," said the bartender.

"Pour a double for me," said Bucky, pulling fifty cents out of his pocket, before downing the rest of his drink.

Carrying the drink in his right hand he threaded his way around the edge of the dance floor to where she was standing. She saw him coming and stood upright, finishing her drink, then placing the empty glass on a nearby table. As he got closer Bucky liked what he saw, just the right number of curves with a great pair of legs. There was something else about her as well, something soft and vulnerable that tempered his initial purely physical attraction to her.

"You looked like you needed a refill," he said, offering her the glass, trying to speak loud enough over the din of the music.

"I don't normally accept drinks from a stranger," she said, looking him in the eye.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," he answered, barely heard over the sound of the band, "but my friends call me Bucky. I'm from Brooklyn."

That slight smile appeared on her face again. "June Norton," she said. "From the Bronx. My friends call me Gladdie."

"Can I offer you a drink, Gladdie?" asked Bucky, extending his hand with the glass.

She noticed then he only had one arm before accepting the glass and sipping from it, looking at him without expression.

"Thanks. May I ask what happened?" she asked, looking at where his left arm used to be.

He looked at it then back at her, seeing no pity in her eyes. She was direct, something he liked. She definitely didn't pussyfoot around.

"Fell off a train during a mission," he said. "Lost the arm in the fall, got badly banged up in the process but I survived and they brought me home. I'm part of an experimental project for a new arm and hand that works like a real one."

"Really? Sounds exciting," she replied. "How do you manage without it?"

"Well, I'm right-handed so I can still do the important stuff," smiled Bucky, leaning a little to closer to her, making her blush a little in response. When she pulled away from him, he wondered if he had overstepped a boundary. "What did you do during the war, Gladdie?"

She sipped her drink again looking directly at him to determine if he was on the level. He was definitely easy on the eyes and his style of flirting was easy to respond to, much less blatant than some of the crude comments she had been subjected to in the army, when she was stationed in England.

"I was a corporal in the Women's Army Corp, worked as a mechanic. I got back three weeks ago." He smiled, seemingly impressed. "Can you still dance?"

"The slow ones," he replied, remembering that longing look on her face as she watched the other couples dancing, "as long as you don't mind being close to make up for the lack of an arm. I think I'll pass on the fast ones, for a while anyways."

She looked out longingly at the dance floor again. "I'm better at the slow ones," she admitted. "Less chance of stepping on your feet." Frowning slightly, she looked away for a moment.

"Doll? You don't look like the type with two left feet."

"I don't know." She seemed a little distressed. "I don't get asked to dance much."

"Well, Gladdie from the Bronx, would you dance with me?" Fortune favours the bold. "I'll make sure you enjoy it."

She swallowed, nodded and asked another girl to watch her drink. Bucky offered her his right hand, leading her to the quieter spot in the centre of the dance floor. Placing his right hand on her back he waited for her to put her left hand on his right shoulder.

"I have a stump," he said bluntly. "If you're okay with touching it over my jacket it you can place your right hand there. I'll move it forward or back when I lead, and we'll figure it out from there."

The current song ended, and the band began playing The Man I Love. Slowly, Bucky began swaying, watching Gladdie's face as they danced, then he began to lead her. Keeping it slow they were able to move to the music and he found himself taking in the scent of her perfume. Recognizing it as Shocking he smiled then lowered his head until his mouth was near her ear.

"You're the most beautiful woman in here," he said. "I noticed you very quickly."

"You're the only one who did," she replied. "I'm usually too tall for most men or too ..."

"You're not too tall," interrupted Bucky. "You're perfect. The guys in the Bronx must be idiots to leave a beautiful woman like you sitting against the wall."

She stiffened a little then pressed her lips together, looking away as if she wanted to hide her face from him. Bucky stopped, using his right hand to raise her chin up so they were looking at each other in the eye. He was surprised to see that she was almost crying.

"Don't cry, pretty girl," he said gently, then reached inside his jacket for a handkerchief. "You'll smudge your makeup."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, as she applied the edges of his handkerchief to her eyes. "Guys that look like you usually like the cuter little girls, the ones with perfect noses and size 6 feet."

"Maybe before the war," he answered quietly, oblivious to the others around them. "But I wasn't always like that and definitely not anymore. I can see what's really beautiful, and she's dancing with me."

He took her in his arm again and they moved to the music, not saying anything but both of them very much aware of the other. Even over the sound of the music Bucky could hear her heart racing, thankful for the ability the serum had given him. She really was lovely, and he wished he had met her before the war because she was definitely someone to come home to. When the music ended, she turned to go back to her spot, but Bucky reached out and touched her hand, linking their fingers together.

"Don't run away," he said. "Come and meet my friends."

For a moment he saw a flash of something in her eyes, of panic perhaps, and wondered who had hurt her enough to prompt that response.

"It's my best friend and his fiancée," he assured her. "You'll be surprised when you meet them, I'm sure. Please."

They returned to get her drink and he led her by the hand to where Steve and Peggy had a table. Steve stood up and waved at them, making Gladdie stop and look at Bucky with delayed recognition.

"Steve Rogers? Captain America is your best friend?" she asked. Her face dropped. "I didn't recognize you or your name. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, squeezing her hand a little. "It's kind of nice not being recognized. Please, let me introduce you to them."

He pulled a chair out for Gladdie and presented her to Steve and Peggy. Right away Steve asked if Bucky wanted another drink, then he asked Gladdie and Peggy. Assuring him she was okay, Gladdie sat back and looked from Bucky to Peggy as Steve went to the bar.

"You're really Peggy Carter, SSR agent?" she asked of the dark-haired woman. "Wow. All the women mechanics in my unit were such fans of yours, going on the missions with the men, fighting the Nazis and HYDRA. You're a legend already."

"Just did my duty," said Peggy. "You were a mechanic? Army?"

Gladdie nodded. "Just got back three weeks ago. This is the first dance I've been at since I got back, but my friend left me standing on my own when she saw a fella she used to date before the war. He had a bunch of medals on his chest and suddenly she was gone off with him. I haven't seen her since we got here."

"Well, the real heroes don't wear their medals in public," said Peggy. "They'll save it for when they're old men at their army reunions. I'm impressed you were a mechanic. Do you think you'll keep it up?"

"I'd like to," said Gladdie. "My parents wanted me to go to secretarial school, then get married and start a family, but I always liked fixing things. My grandpa taught me a lot and then the Army trained me as well. My fiancé ..." She stopped and her mouth set itself in a grim line.

"I'm sorry, did he not come home?" asked Peggy, trying to word it gracefully, as Bucky reached out for her hand.

"No, he didn't even go over," said Gladdie. "He asked me to marry him before I went to England, then was angry at me when I stayed in the corps. We had talked of opening a garage together before. When I got back, he was married to someone else."

"I already don't like him," said Bucky, looking up as Steve returned with their drinks, distributing the glasses out. The other three looked at their drinks for a minute then Bucky raised his. "Here's to beautiful women mechanics who served their country. May their worthless ex-fiancés rot in hell."

He downed his glass, then panicked when Gladdie stood up, grabbed her purse, and bolted out of the hall. Bucky swore and followed her outside, finding her with her forehead on her hand pressed against a light pole, her eyes closed, struggling not to cry.

"Gladdie?" he murmured, as he approached her. "I'm sorry. I say stupid things sometimes. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She shook her head then pulled herself away from the cool metal meeting his gaze. "You didn't," she replied. "Bert did all that. He didn't even tell me he was seeing someone while we were writing each other. Found out the day after I got back when I saw him with his wife, pushing a baby carriage. My parents never said a word but they knew. He had the nerve to show up a day later to ask for the ring. I threw it in his face, and he dropped it. Fell down the steps into the sewer grate in front of my parent's brownstone."

Bucky smirked. "Good for you," he said, then he lightly placed his hand on her arm. "Like I said, the guys in the Bronx are idiots. Come back into the dance. Steve and Peggy won't think anything less of you."

She looked back at the entrance and sighed, then shook her head. "No, I'm not in the mood anymore. But you go ahead. It was awfully nice meeting you, and Steve, and Peggy. You're the real heroes."

"I'm not in the mood anymore either," he replied, then took her hand, squeezing it lightly. "Come just inside the door with me, so I can tell them I'm seeing you home, then I'll get my cap and take you anywhere you want to go."

He was so unbelievably handsome, standing there waiting for her answer. Gladdie noticed other women coming out for a breath of fresh air, doing a second take when they realized who he was, but he was still focused on her, waiting for her response. All of his attention was on her, as if his life depended on it. Nodding her head yes wasn't good enough apparently as he still stood there, waiting for her to speak.

"Alright," she answered, grasping his hand firmly. "I'll come in with you, say goodbye to the others, and you can pick up your cap."

"That's my girl," he whispered as he pulled her closer.

Together they went inside where Steve stood up when they arrived at the table.

"Gladdie and I are going to leave," said Bucky. "Neither one of us is up to dancing right now."

"We can come with you," offered Steve.

Bucky smiled and grasped Gladdie's hand tighter. "Thanks, but I think we're going to go someplace quiet and get to know each other better before I take her home. I'll see you at home, okay?"

"Okay, Buck," said Steve, patting his friend on the shoulder, then shaking her hand. "Gladdie, it was awfully nice meeting you. Buck will make sure you get home okay. He's trustworthy."

"The pleasure was mine, Steve, Peggy," she said. "My folks won't believe I actually met you."

"I'm sure we'll see you again, soon," said Peggy, offering her hand.

They picked up Bucky's cap and stepped out into the warm evening air as he placed it on his head. Taking her hand Bucky began to walk, not going anywhere in particular but not wanting to let this opportunity go. About ten minutes later they came across a diner that was open until midnight.

"I'm kind of hungry," said Bucky. "Fancy a bite to eat?"

"Okay," replied Gladdie, as he opened the door for her and followed her to a booth away from the other patrons.

He hung his cap up on the hook beside the booth then sat across from her. The waitress came around with menus and a coffee pot, filling both their cups full. Gladdie put some sugar and cream in hers while Bucky sipped his black. They both looked over the menu before he decided on the meat loaf special, while she ordered a slice of apple pie with ice cream. While they sat Bucky reached across the table for her hand, examining it in the artificial light. He noticed the short cut nails, and the small calluses on her palm and fingertips from using the tools of her trade.

"I like your hand," he said. "It's honest; the hand of someone used to hard work."

"My parents hated that I became a mechanic," she replied quietly. "They told people I was a secretary, a more honourable profession for a woman, in their opinion."

"They're wrong," he replied. "Mechanics kept the war going. Not in the sense of the fighting but without people like you there would be no supplies dropped off to the troops, no medical evacuations, no road transport. Hell, I wouldn't have made it."

She pulled her hand out of his and laid it in her lap, looking over to the kitchen in the hope that the food would arrive, and he would stop looking at her. As if he could read her mind Bucky leaned back, giving her some space.

"You live with Steve?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're both on medical leave and our doctors are here in New York," he said. She smiled politely but he could tell she was still a little on edge. "You seem to be uncomfortable with me, or is it with men in general? I'm a good listener if you want to talk about it."

"You're alright," she said, "but I never had any boyfriends until Bert. I was always the big girl, too tall for my age, too shy to make many friends. Someone like you never looked at someone like me."

An almost serene smile crossed Bucky's face as he thought about hearing this same comment from another tall girl, when he was in Camp McCoy during basic training. They had become friends first then finally shared an incredible weekend together just before he shipped out. He had debated about going to see her when he returned, but the last letter he sent was returned as Moved, No forwarding address.

"Tell me about your grandfather." Perhaps changing the topic would help. "You said he taught you about cars."

A smile crossed Gladdie's face and her green eyes lit up as she told him about her grandfather, Robert Norton, a man who loved all things mechanical after the first cars came out. He taught himself everything there was about the new way of getting around and eventually began selling them in the Bronx. From there he opened a garage and after his sons went on to work elsewhere and with no grandsons he offered his knowledge to his three granddaughters, although she was the one who stayed with it the longest.

"He always said a woman could do a man's work, if she picked the right work," said Gladdie. "It was time with him that meant a lot to me as I was a disappointment to my parents. When they formed the Women's Army Corps, I saw the advertisement asked for mechanics and figured it would be my chance to go somewhere, do something important. He encouraged me to do it and I really liked the work."

"Could you work for your grandfather?" asked Bucky.

She shook her head. "He died last year, and my parents sold the garage. I asked about working there but the new owner practically laughed in my face. He said I should be getting married and having babies."

There was silence after that, and Bucky realized with a bit of a sinking feeling that it wasn't the work that affected her but likely the people she had issues with. He could only guess that she had probably fended off some aggressive soldiers during her stint, considering how attractive she was. Sometimes he really wondered how men thought it was okay to treat women like dirt, but he had also read enough to know it was something that had happened since biblical times and was ingrained in many cultures and households, even his own on occasion. He himself hadn't been immune to taking women for granted at times, thinking of Vera at that moment.

"Where were you stationed?" he asked.

"I had basic in New Jersey, was made a corporal quite soon because I already had mechanical knowledge. Then in early 1943 I was shipped to England, posted to Camp Griffiss in Middlesex."

"Headquarters." His smile was genuine. "I'm impressed. We were based nearby. I'm surprised we never ran into each other."

"It was alright most of the time," she said, looking at the kitchen again, wondering when the food would come. "Because I was engaged, I didn't go to any of the dances or anything like that."

"Did you ever get to be a driver or were you just working on the vehicles?" he asked.

"I was a driver a few times, but I couldn't do it again," she said tersely. "After that I just worked on the cars, trucks, and occasionally motorcycles."

Bucky let out a quick breath at the tenseness in her voice and the words "after that," speculating that something may have happened while she was a driver. The waitress appeared, bringing their food out and topped up their coffees shortly after. They both ate for a few minutes before Bucky resumed the conversation.

"May I ask why your nickname is Gladdie? You said your name was June, but your nickname doesn't really come from it. Is it short for gladiola or glad-hearted?"

"My middle name, Gladys," she replied, happy for the change of subject. "I'm surprised I told you as I don't usually like people calling me that unless they know me."

"Would you rather I not call you that?" he asked. "My nickname is from my middle name but the only people who call me James are those who don't know me."

"No, you can call me Gladdie," she blushed. "I like hearing it from you."

Another bite of the pie made it to her mouth, and he ate some of his meatloaf, using his fork to cut into it. The serum made him hungry almost all of the time. At first, after he was rescued by Steve in the factory, he was ashamed of people knowing he was always hungry, worried they might think the HYDRA serum made him that way as Steve never really said he felt hungry all the time. But the other Steven, Steven Grant, who eventually rescued him after the fall while Steve continued on the train, came to talk to him in the camp after they returned back from Austria. He knew that Bucky didn't tell the medics everything about what was done to him, proof of who he really was, Bucky supposed, still not quite believing at that time that Grant was Steve Rogers from the future. Regardless, Grant told him all super soldiers were hungry as their metabolism needed the extra food. There was more he told him, things that he couldn't change but had to accept as being part of his life from then on. He shook his head, getting the thoughts out of his head and realized Gladdie was looking at him strangely.

"I'm sorry, you said something else?"

"You seemed to be far away. Are you alright?"

"I'm good," he replied, with a little nod of his head. "What do you know about me? I know there's rumours but I'm just curious what you've heard."

"Well, I've heard that you and Steve have known each other since you were kids." She looked him in the eyes. "He rescued you and a bunch of the others in the 107th from that HYDRA factory in Austria." For a moment, she paused, wondering if she should say something else then changed her mind. "Then you joined the Howling Commandos and you fell from that train in January, and another unit found you still alive but without your arm. You're still on medical leave but the Commandos want you back to finish the job against HYDRA. Steve is still on medical leave as well, after they found him near the wreckage of that plane crash. It was lucky you both survived such terrible accidents. You seem to have recovered well; all things considered."

"You were going to say something else." He spoke in a low voice, pretty sure of what she almost said. "It's okay, you can say it."

For a moment, Gladdie wished she wasn't there, wasn't sitting across from this incredibly handsome man who survived a several hundred-foot drop in the Austrian mountains, a miracle as described by the newspapers; she wished she wasn't trying to word her answer in a way that wouldn't offend him. But he did ask so maybe he liked it when someone was direct with him.

"There was a rumour that HYDRA made you into their super soldier." She kept her voice low, and her eyes focused on him. "You were allowed to be rescued by the allies so that you could infiltrate the Commandos and sabotage them from the inside. They said you fell from the train after fighting with Captain America. I didn't believe it, not for a second, and especially once I saw you with him tonight. You're friends, good friends and it showed."

"Thank you for being honest with me." It was proof the rumours were still floating around. "I can't tell you what really happened as it's still classified but the rumours of being a HYDRA spy aren't true. I can assure you of that."

They continued eating silently for a while then they both started speaking at the same time. Bucky deferred to her.

"What did you do before the war?"

"I quit school when I was 16, and worked on the docks," he began. "It was the Depression, and the money was good. I got into boxing and would have turned pro, but the mob have too much influence in it. Steve talked me into going into art school with him. I was in the technical program, learning technical drawing, that sort of thing. Then Pearl Harbour happened, and I was drafted a month later. Now, one arm down, I'm not sure what I can do, although there's a chance I can get back in with the Howling Commandos looking for the last remnants of HYDRA."

"Is it dependent on that new arm project?" she asked. Bucky nodded. "You don't seem excited about the prospect."

"Just not a big fan of doctors or medical procedures," he stated tersely.

They were silent again. "What were you going to say before we interrupted each other?"

He really didn't want to talk any more, about any of it. Impulsively, he decided to find out if coming to the dance had been a waste of time and the need to know if there had been anything, any spark between them, took priority.

"Are you free tomorrow, during the day? Would you come out with me?"

"You want to see me again?" He smiled and nodded. "Will you pick me up or shall we meet?"

"Either way I have to take the train," he said apologetically. "Can't drive and change gears with one arm."

"That's okay," she said, grinning. "Nothing wrong with the train."

They finished eating and Bucky paid the check, then stepped aside to allow Gladdie to leave the diner ahead of him, before offering her his right arm as they walked. It was completely dark out now, still warm although a slight breeze had sprung up, enough to keep the humidity at bay. They walked along the sidewalk towards the station that still had a train running west to Manhattan. When they got to the station entrance, Gladdie turned to Bucky, standing on the first step as he still stood on the sidewalk, looking up to her.

"You don't have to take me all the way home, I'm okay from here," she said, gently.

Her own insecurities had made it hard for her to believe he was investing all this time and attention on her. She could give him an easy excuse to end it, right here, right now. The glow of the streetlight lit up her hair from behind, making her look like an angel to Bucky. That look of longing was on her face again, and he had a vision of waking up next to her every morning.

"That's not how this works," he replied firmly. "I promised to get you home safely. That's to the door, sweetheart."

"Are all of the Brooklyn boys gentlemen like you?"

"Nah, me and Steve are the best they have to offer," he grinned, making his face seem even more handsome.

He bought their train tickets and waited on the elevated station platform with her. The train would take them to Manhattan where they would transfer to a train for the Bronx. Gladdie told him her parent's home was a ten-minute walk from the station there. For the next while they sat side by side on the train, being bumped together occasionally when the car took a sharp turn. When they got off to transfer the station was crowded.

"Theatre crowd," said Gladdie. "With Broadway fully back up and running it will be like this from now on."

After getting bumped a few too many times Bucky put his arm around her, keeping her close, noticing she startled easily. She didn't pull away from him either, which he liked and there were moments when she stood close enough to him that he could almost bury his face in her hair. Her perfume was still noticeable to him, but he liked it and thought it suited her. This train was quite full, and Bucky had to stand, hanging on to the loop while Gladdie sat in front of him, taking a seat after a man got off at the first stop. He could hear almost every conversation going on in the car but at least it sounded happy, as the theatre goers went over their experience. Focusing on Gladdie kept his mind away from the other conversations and for once, he didn't feel overwhelmed at the background hub of voices.

"We're the next stop," Gladdie informed him after the car pulled away from the third stop in and Bucky prepared to offer her his hand to stand.

Finally, they were out of the car, out of the station and on the street in the dark. As they got closer, he realized he didn't want the evening to end. Even though Gladdie was quiet and somewhat introverted he found her serenity helped him stay calm. He had never been on a date like this, even though they weren't technically on a date, but he liked being with her, liked being seen with her. On the street where she lived, Gladdie slowed her pace, making Bucky realize she might be trying to make this last longer as well. Seeing a place in the shadows under a tree on the boulevard he pulled her gently to the tree and gazed at her in the dark. Even there her face glowed, and he thought again of how beautiful she was.

"So, can we meet tomorrow?" he asked. "At the station where we transferred would be a good meeting place."

"Okay," she agreed. "What time?"

"Is 11:30 okay?" he asked. "We can go for a walk in Central Park then have some lunch."

"I'll be there," replied Gladdie. "We should exchange numbers, just in case there's a problem."

She pulled a pencil and paper from her clutch writing her phone number down. Bucky wrote his down on another piece of paper, and they exchanged slips. Then he ran the back of his fingers up her cheek before leaning down to kiss her. Not pressing her, he kept it gentle, his mouth barely open, keeping his tongue inside his mouth, guessing that she needed to have the choice to come to him for more. When she did put her hands on his shoulders, he wrapped his right arm around her a little tighter, loving how she moulded her soft form to his. He lengthened the kiss for several moments before releasing her. Licking his lips, he gazed down at her.

"I really like you," he said gently. "If I had been your fiancé I wouldn't have rested until you were back in my arms. Bert was an idiot."

She smiled but didn't contradict him. Then she stepped away from the shadow under the tree and went up the steps of the row house, opening the door and stepping inside. He watched the windows for a moment, then saw a light from a window on the third floor turn on and Gladdie appeared, opening the window and looking out, raising her hand to him. Stepping out from the shadow he looked up at her and tipped his hat. With a smile he turned away and began the long trip back to Brooklyn, feeling better than he had in a long time.