He blushed under the lamplight. “Not something I tell most people. Don’t want them to think I’m a puddle of mush.”
“‘Puddle of mush’? Anyone who uses that phrase is, indeed, a puddle of mush.”
“You know what I mean.”
“In fact, I do.”
The building soared above them, and they both paused and studied its grand facade.
“She’s a beauty.”
Even without looking at him, Bailey could hear the smile in his voice.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
New York City, January 1885
Breakfast the next morning was a chunk of stale bread along with some tepid brown liquid that one of the other inmates referred to as cocoa. Sara downed the brew in one gulp and gnawed on the crust until it became soft enough to swallow.
Today she’d explain that she was not one of the dribbling ladies or maniacs, that they’d made a mistake. In fact, she’d awakened this morning feeling better than she had in several weeks. The headache and lethargy had dropped away. Her clearheadedness had come too late to save her from the trip in the tub of misery, as a nurse had referred to the ferryboat this morning.
After breakfast, they were again made to sit on the benches in the octagonal room. No movement, no speaking. Sara took the time to study the interactions of the nurses—there were five that day—and the doctor. Four of the nurses were stolid, nasty sorts, but the youngest one hadn’t yet turned bitter. Her interactions with the inmates were calmer and more patient. Sara heard her referred to as Nurse Alden. Dr. Fields preferred Nurse Alden, and seemed to go out of his way to speak with her instead of the others.
Many of the other patients were foreign and had little or no mastery of the language. Sara was certain the majority of these were also of sound mind but hadn’t been given the chance to plead their cases in their mother tongues. Of the others, the ones who spoke English, a few babbled to themselves endlessly, at the risk of being on the other side of a striking hand, and some were nasty, stealing bread from others’ plates or grabbing themselves inappropriately. Sara avoided eye contact with them, pulling into herself when they passed, trying to be invisible.
A bell rang and the group was herded outside into the January morning, where hundreds of other women huddled against the building or valiantly walked the grounds. Sara marched to the water’s edge and stared across the gunmetal waves of the East River at Manhattan. In the cold, clear air, she found what she was looking for immediately.
The Dakota.
The three triangles that made up the east roofline pointed into the bitter sky like beacons. She wondered if Theo had gone up onto the promenade to see if he could find her. He must be mad with worry. No doubt as soon as he figured out where she’d been sent, he’d get her released. It was only a matter of time.
“No point staring at the city. Will only make you sad.”
A woman with olive skin and black hair stood close by, arms wrapped around her chest for warmth. She looked to be around forty years old, with creases like kitten whiskers across her cheeks and a streak of gray in her hair.
“I’m Natalia.” Her foreign accent made the word sound delicious. Or maybe Sara was just hungry.
“I’m Sara. Sara Smythe.”
“You got here yesterday, right?”
“I did.” Sara looked back at the asylum.
“Don’t worry, no one’s in sight. They hate going out in the cold, so this is one of the few times we get for freedom.”
They began walking together along the pathway.
“How long have you been here?” Sara asked, fearing the answer.
“Five years, I think. Non lo so, time gets lost here.”
The blood drained from Sara’s head. She wouldn’t make it another week, never mind five years. “Why were you sent here?”
“I stole some jam from my employer, a rich signora on Twentieth Street. I worked as her kitchen maid. My kids were sick; I could sell it for their medicine. She searched me and found it, and when I told her what I thought of her stingy ways, she had me committed.”
“How could she do that? You seem perfectly normal to me.”
“I see that in you as well. How are you here?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I’d been feeling off the past month or so.” A hand went to her belly, a reflex. “I work for a large apartment house, and when a necklace went missing, they insisted I’d taken it. But I have no memory of it. How can that be?”
“You seem sano di mente to me. Very good, very smart.”
Natalia’s bright comment lifted her spirits. “I feel that way as well. I’m going to explain that to the doctor today.”
Natalia stopped. “Best not to. They don’t like the idea that they are wrong.”
“But I can’t stay here another minute.”
“Take care.” Natalia blew into her cupped hands, the spectral steam escaping through her fingers. “If you make a fuss, they put you in the Retreat or the Lodge. You don’t want that.”
“What happens there?”
“They’re the wards where they put the worst, most violent patients. You’re in danger if you end up there.”
“I won’t be violent. That’s the whole point. I’ll be civil and logical. I’ll show them that I’m sound of mind.”
Natalia didn’t respond. Another bell rang. “We go inside.”
As they retreated back inside, a thought occurred to Sara. “What happened to your children?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do they know that you’re here?”
“Probably no. I didn’t even know where they were taking me.”
“Nor did I.” If she had known, could she have done anything to change the mystifying turn of events? If she’d kicked and screamed, she would have ended up in jail. Poor Natalia, having to leave her children to fend for themselves. She struggled for something kind to say. “You speak quite good English.”
“I listened carefully, picked it up fast when I came from Italy.”
They stood in a line behind the other inmates funneling back inside the octagon. Like hens going back to the henhouse. “It’s wrong, what they’ve done. To you and to me. An injustice.”
Natalia laughed. “Do you think we band together, fight back? No good.”
“We must do something.”
“Others have tried.”
“How?”
Natalia made a motion with her arms. “Swim across, to escape. Drowned.”
Sara looked back at the frigid expanse. Even in summer, powerful currents roiled the brackish water, as if giant sea serpents thrashed just below the surface.
They were getting nearer to the door, and Sara was reluctant to enter. It was such a comfort to speak with someone, someone who understood. Ahead of them, a young girl with matted hair and a sweet face garbled out a song.
“An idiot. We have many,” said Natalia. The girl’s song faded out into a hum. “But at least she doesn’t know where she is. I am jealous, sometimes.”
Lunch was a chunk of rancid beef, eaten with the hands due to the lack of a knife or fork, one boiled potato, a bowl of soup, and another piece of bread. Sara was so hungry by then and chilled from the cold walk that she ate and drank as much as she could, trying not to look at the greenish tinge of the bread crust. The strength in her appetite gave her hope for her general health, as the past couple of weeks she’d been unable to eat much and figured that had contributed to her mental lapses.
The work assignments that were handed out at the end of the meal offered a chance to move around and get the blood flowing again. Sara was assigned to scrub the octagon’s stairways with a half dozen others. Nurses handed over buckets and brushes, and the women spread out, each taking a landing and a stair. Although the water made her fingers cold, the joints in her shoulders and knees welcomed the activity. She looked up at the skylight high above her. Theo would have appreciated the grand Ionic columns that lined the balconies.