“What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly. She had agreed to stay there originally for a full six months. But then one morning, the psychiatrist from Saint Julia’s called to tell us they found her room empty. She left just like that. And, really, she was free to go all along since she was of age.”
“Did she come home?”
“She knew better, I’m sure. Her father would have sent her right back. So instead, she just . . . disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
Emily Sanino stood and went to that side table and pulled back the curtain to look outside. I wanted to tell her that we’d hear the patrol car well before seeing it, but instead I simply repeated the word, “Disappeared?”
“We’ve not heard from her since,” she said in a stiff voice, letting go of the curtain and pressing her fingertips to the sides of her eyes, as though forcing back tears. After a moment, she took a breath and turned to me. “Now that you know everything you came to find out, we need to get you out of here. How will you get home if you—”
“Wait,” I said. “I still don’t understand why you’ve been coming to our house.”
That question gave her a long pause. She stared at me, blinking, before saying, “When I read about what happened to your mother and father, Sylvie, I thought of how special those days with Rose had been. The idea of that poor girl on her own raising you, well, it broke my heart. I remembered how she used to devour the food I brought on those trips, so I decided the least I could offer was more of that nourishment. It’s what the Bible teaches, after all: charity of the heart.”
“Well, thank you for remembering us. I only wish you’d left notes, so we knew who it was from. Didn’t you ever think to do that?”
“Yes. But I didn’t want to open old wounds. I’m sure Rose doesn’t exactly want reminders of her time at Saint Julia’s. My guess is she never speaks of it. Am I right?”
I nodded. My brain felt fuzzy with the events of the day. I tried to think of what more I could ask, but just then, Emily Sanino’s back stiffened. A moment later, I heard a car motoring down the street. “I need you to leave,” she said, peeking through the curtains as the flash of lights washed over her. “How will you get back to Dundalk?”
“I don’t know,” I told her, standing. We walked to the kitchen, and she pressed a hand on my back to get me there faster.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I didn’t plan things. I just came here without—”
Outside in the driveway, a door slammed. Emily grabbed her purse from the table and told me to hold out my hands. When I did she shook the contents of her wallet—coins, bills, stray coupons, shopping lists—into my palms. A few stray pennies fell to the floor and scattered at my feet, but I didn’t bother to pick them up. “I’m sorry,” she told me, her voice an urgent whisper. “But I can’t let my husband know about any of this. There’s a pay phone in front of the firehouse on West Shore Drive. You can call a taxi from there. You should have more than enough money to get home.”
“West Shore?” I said as she opened the back door and all but pushed me outside. Emily Sanino glanced in the direction of the living room, where her husband’s feet pounded up the porch steps. “Left out of the driveway. Right at Bay Breeze, then follow it to West Shore. The firehouse will be in front of you. Across from the ocean.”
“Should I give Rose any message?”
“Message?” she said, eyes wide. “Absolutely not. Don’t say a word to her about this visit. Trust me. It’ll be better that way.”
With that, she closed the door and snapped off the light. I was left standing on the cement patio with only the moon to see by. A moment later, I heard her voice inside as she greeted her husband with all that false cheer lacing her voice once more.
I turned and walked through the alley to the street, her rushed directions blurring in my mind, along with everything else she told me. For nearly an hour, I moved through the sleepy streets of that oceanside neighborhood, making too many wrong turns before backtracking and looking up at last to see the fire department, with a pay phone out front. After dialing 411, I got the number of a taxi company. The man on the other end told me it would cost sixty dollars to get back to Dundalk. While he waited, I counted what I had, but it only totaled up to thirty-four. I asked if he could do it for half price, and the man said, “Yeah, if my driver only takes you halfway. How’s that sound?” I told him not very good then hung up. That’s when another idea occurred to me. Squinting at the buttons, I punched in a combination I hadn’t thought of in some time. After dumping in enough coins, the phone rang and a sleepy voice came on the line.
“Cora?” I said.
“Yes?”
“It’s Sylvie.”