Sophie said, “There’s also the boy himself, and the family to think about. We might well do more harm than good, in the greater scheme of things.”
This morning, getting ready for the day on one side of the room while Jack dressed on the other, Anna had hoped that going back to work would be distraction enough to keep her mind off Vittorio, but the image of him in his adoptive mother’s arms stayed with her while she saw patients and met with her assistants and students and answered mail.
Even in Judge Benedict’s courtroom her thoughts kept wandering back to Staten Island. And not to the good things—the excellent things—that had transpired, but to the little boy who was no longer lost, and still, not yet found.
She said, “I promised Rosa I would try.”
“You have tried,” her aunt said. “Are you feeling guilty?”
Anna felt Jack’s gaze on her, waiting, patient. “Not guilty exactly, but to make myself feel better I would have to cause a lot of other people great distress. I’m not so self-centered as that.”
Aunt Quinlan nodded, pleased with her.
Jack said, “I’ll approach Father McKinnawae. Just to be sure of what we think we know. And in the meantime—” He paused, and Anna could almost see the question hovering there, unspoken: What will you do with the boy if you get him?
“I won’t be here to deal with the results of your decision,” Sophie said, as if Jack had spoken out loud. “But I will be back, and I will do whatever needs to be done. I would gladly take on all three children, if it comes to that.”
“You’d give up your profession?” Margaret’s tone was unapologetically doubtful.
“I don’t know,” Sophie said. “But it’s a possibility.”
Anna didn’t like that idea at all, but she understood, too, that Sophie would want something to come home to, when Cap was gone. She wondered if her cousin was even aware of this herself.
When Jack announced that he would see Sophie home and then spend a little time with his parents, Anna was so happy to go off to bed that she could barely contain herself. She kissed him good-bye in the front hall, and tried to think of something to say. Be quick. Be careful. Hurry home. Must you go? None of those things would come out of her mouth.
“Married barely two days and you’re eager to get rid of me.”
She was relieved and surprised both by the way he was smiling at her.
“Savard, you need a little time to yourself. I’m not offended. I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.”
Anna went to bed, and slept.
? ? ?
AS THEY GOT into Cap’s carriage—Sophie’s carriage, now, Jack reminded himself—a police runner dashed up and handed him an envelope. He put it away in his pocket without looking at it, but she had not missed the exchange.
“From Oscar,” he explained. “It can wait.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but he would act as if it were.
Sophie looked distracted, and he was fairly sure he knew why. Still he waited for her to ask.
“Do you know anything about the Campbell boys that isn’t in the newspapers?”
He shook his head. She didn’t believe him, he could see it, but why should she? Men lied to women all the time, and called it protection or concern for their sensibilities when really what they wanted was an end to the questioning.
“I would like to hear the truth,” she said. “No matter what it is.”
He inclined his head. “That’s good to know. The truth is, I don’t have any information that isn’t in the papers, at this moment. If and when I do, I will share that information with you. No matter how distressing.”
Satisfied, Sophie sat back. She said, “What do you think should happen with Vittorio?”
This was a question Jack could answer without hesitation. “I think he should stay where he is.”
“Does Anna know you feel that way?”
“No, but then she hasn’t asked me directly. If she does, I won’t lie to her.”
“She isn’t sure herself what would be best.”
“Yes, she is,” Jack said. “But she’s not ready to acknowledge it.”
“You do understand her,” Sophie said. “I’m glad.”
“Don’t congratulate me yet,” Jack said. “I’m sure to fall on my face sooner or later.”
“You’ll pick yourself back up, and let me tell you a secret about Anna. She doesn’t hold a grudge. At least not with people she loves.”
? ? ?
AT HOME—AT what used to be home—Jack spent a half hour being peppered with questions, some of which he answered, many of which he ignored. It was a familiar dance with his mother; he ignored a question, she stepped away and then swung around to approach it from another direction.
“I like her,” his mother said. “You know that I like her.”
“I know that you wouldn’t hesitate to tell me if you didn’t,” Jack said. “Married or not.”
His father barked a short laugh, then went back to his newspaper. In the kitchen there was sudden silence, because his sisters were listening. Which meant that the little girls were listening, too, something his mother was well aware of.