Chapter 43

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Hi friends!  Some people have had trouble seeing the last chapter.  Others can see it just fine.  I don't know if this is a browser issue (I use Firefox and can see it just fine) or some other bug.  I'm going to delete and re-upload Chapter 42, but that means I'll lose your comments and the ratings.  Please let me know if that fixes the problem? 

Chapter 43

"So what is this all about?" Bernice asked.

Steve was acting weird. Okay … Steve always acted weird. Perhaps weird wasn't the right word for it. He acted perfectly appropriate at all times for somebody who had been born in 1920. He was acting almost … anxious.

"Dress warm."

"Will we be riding your motorcycle?"

The Excursion belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D. One of countless anonymous fleet vehicles the government doled out to its agents. Steve hated the thing with a vengeance, claiming he'd driven tanks through war zones that handled better. He only drove it when forced to drive it. Rain, shine, sleet … anything short of snow … and Steve was on his motorcycle. Or walked. He enjoyed walking and often took the bus to get to his destination, claiming he enjoyed seeing the neighborhoods he passed through and not merely viewed them as obstacles. Tonight was a bright, cold November evening with just a hint of frost in the air. The kind of weather Steve looked forward to.

"We'll be taking the bus," Steve said. "Then walking. It's not far."

Steve's idea of 'far' and her idea of 'far' usually differed. Although with his leg still in a brace, hopefully he wouldn't run any marathons. With a sigh, Bernice pulled on her sensible walking boots, but opted to wear her fashionable black pea-coat. She vacillated between her fuzzy muffler and hat, which made her look like a teddy bear, or her more fashionable beret and a silk scarf. She opted for the beret, but shoved their ugly cousins into her purse. Just in case. After spending the night on the Statue of Liberty, she'd sworn she would swallow her pride and dress sensibly whenever it came to adventures with Steve Rogers.

He took her hand and led her down the street. They caught a bus over the East River and got off in the Lower East Side. He zigzagged down a series of city blocks, his expression quiet and thoughtful and stopped in front of a nondescript brick tenement. The kind that used to have cramped apartments rented to poor, working class families, but nowadays had all been converted to condos. Tiny little studio apartments with enormous price tags.

"I grew up in this house," Steve said. "My parents immigrated to this country at the end of World War I. They both worked so hard that I was their only child. My father died in a construction accident finishing the American Radiator Building in 1924."

"I'm sorry." Bernice knew bits and pieces of his background, but this was the first time he had ever taken her for a walk around his old neighborhood.

"So am I," Steve said softly. "I don't remember much about him. Just how tired he always was when he came home late at night, filthy from working. Mama would lay out a tub with hot water from the kettle to soak his feet while he ate supper. It was usually past my bedtime, but Mama wouldn't complain if I snuck out of bed to tell him about our day. He acted as though my silly stories were the most important thing he had ever heard."

Bernice was silent. Steve wasn't taciturn or shy around people he felt comfortable with, but he wasn't a man of many words, either. If he felt like introducing her to his past tonight, she was happy to oblige him. Perhaps this was his way of introducing her to his family? Just as she had introduced him to hers yesterday?

"What happened after your father passed away?"

"The world isn't kind to a mother raising a kid alone." Steve tugged her hand and began walking again, crossing the street and leading her down another block. "Especially back in 1924. But she was a hard worker and people liked her."

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