too—I remembered doing a clumsy boogie-woogie with him the night before he left for the marines. They’d have been on the floor by now. For them, I could drag my heavy feet out there.
I moved to the crowd of dancers, and a laughing Frenchman pulled me in. I moved in time with his arm at my waist, then took his friend’s arm for the next song. I didn’t listen to any of their whispered French gallantries, just closed my eyes and moved my feet and tried to . . . Well, not forget my hovering cloud of grief, but at least dance under it. My feet might be heavy now, but maybe someday I could dance my way out from under the cloud.
So I kept moving to the music, song after song, and Finn nursed his single beer and watched me, and it probably would have been all right if not for the Gypsy woman.
I’d stepped away from the dancing to retie my sandal. Finn rose to throw away his half-drunk beer, and both of us saw the old woman behind a pushcart, dressed in faded colorful shawls. Maybe she wasn’t a Gypsy—she had the nut-brown face and bright skirts, but how did I know if that was what a Gypsy really looked like?—and she mumbled something as the café proprietor came flying out. She held out a palm, supplicating, and he waved his hands as though a rat had run through his kitchens. “No begging here!” He gave the old woman a push. “Move along!”
She trudged off, obviously used to it. The café proprietor turned away, scrubbing his hands down his apron. “Gypsy bitch,” he muttered. “Too bad they weren’t all shipped off and locked up.”
I saw the wave of dead flat anger that fell over Finn’s face.
I started toward him, but he’d already dropped his beer bottle in a sharp shatter of glass. He crossed the café in three strides, buried a hand in the surprised proprietor’s collar, yanked him up close, and flattened him with one brutal uppercut.
“Finn!”
My yell got lost in the shatter of china as the proprietor fell, taking a table with him. Finn shoved him over onto his back with one boot, flat fury still burning out of his eyes, then dropped a knee into the man’s chest. “You—lousy—little—shite—” he said with quiet precision, punctuating each word with his fist. The short efficient blows sounded like a meat mallet falling.
“Finn!”
My heart thudded. I elbowed my way past fluttering women and men rising with napkins about their necks, everyone flustered and openmouthed, but a waiter got there first, catching Finn’s arm. Finn hit him too, a quick explosion of fist into nose, and I saw the spray of blood, perfectly distinct, against a fallen tablecloth. The waiter reeled back and Finn went back to hitting the proprietor, who was shouting and trying to shield his face.
Six people pulled me off once I started bashing his head against a doorpost, Finn had said of the fight that landed him in prison. Thank God they got me off him before I cracked his skull.
I might not be six people, but no one was cracking a skull tonight. I grabbed Finn’s rock-tense shoulder, hauling with all my strength. “Finn, stop!”
He whirled, swinging at whoever was trying to stop him. His eyes flared the instant he recognized me, and he snatched away the force behind his blow, but it was too late to stop the momentum. His knuckles hit the corner of my mouth hard enough to sting. I fell back a step, hand flying to my face.
He went dead white, fist falling to his side. “Oh, Jesus—” He rose, ignoring the man lying groaning and bloody-nosed on the ground. “Jesus, Charlie—”
I touched my lips in shock. “It’s all right.” To be honest I was more relieved that he was off the proprietor and didn’t have that flat furious expression anymore. My heart racketed away in my chest like I’d just run a race. I took a step, reaching for him. “It’s all right—”
He flinched. His eyes were horrified. “Jesus,” he said again, and took off at a shambling run away from me, from the café and its crowd of murmuring customers.
The proprietor was already rising with the aid of several waiters, woozy and angry, but I didn’t spare him a glance. I ran as fast as I could in the direction Finn had gone. He’d already gone past the auberge, slipping between buildings, and I saw him vanish