Anna tried very hard to harness her impatience, but Jack did not. He made a twirling motion with his hand and Ned wagged his head from side to side in acknowledgment.
“We were just talking, you know, and I mentioned I was looking for this Italian kid. Moby didn’t know anything about him, but his girl did. She’s a teacher at the deaf school.
“Hope, that’s her name, says they’ve got a little boy about six or seven years old, black hair, blue eyes, but he’s deaf. So it’s probably not the kid you’re looking for, but I thought I’d mention it. If you want me to go up there and have a look, I can.”
They were silent for a moment, and then she said, “I can’t remember Tonino ever saying a word to me. Did you hear him talk, Jack?”
Jack had not. “But if he were deaf Rosa would have said something.”
“Children who have suffered a shock sometimes stop talking. They might believe he’s deaf, when he’s just ignoring everything and everyone. Out of self-preservation.”
“Or he might be deaf,” Jack said.
They looked at each other, and Jack saw something flash across her face, sudden insight or determination or both.
“We could go tomorrow, if we leave early enough.”
Jack took a deep breath, and then another. “That’s what we’ll have to do. But we can’t say anything to the girls.”
“Or Margaret,” Anna agreed. “Or anyone. Another disappointment so soon would be very hard on the girls. Aunt Quinlan has a saying at times like this. ‘Don’t go looking for trouble, it will find you soon enough without you shouting out an invitation.’”
Anna lay awake for a very long time, thinking of the very nature of trouble or bad luck or whatever name you wanted to use. More than that, she wondered why the idea of finding Tonino should strike her as trouble. In the end she fell asleep thinking of Rosa, who wanted this brother back so very much. She had such high expectations of what it would mean to be reunited with him, when in fact the boy she remembered was gone, even if they brought him home with them tomorrow.
45
AT SEVEN JACK went to hitch Bonny to the Rockaway for the last-minute trip to the school for the deaf. Anna followed, yawning into her palm. She had been determined to get a good night’s sleep and had failed almost completely.
In the stable Bonny nickered at Jack and presented her head for rubbing. Another female under his spell, Anna thought and then watched as he snuck a lump of sugar out of his pocket and pressed the flat of his palm to her mouth.
“I saw that.”
He winked at her. “Jealous?”
Anna made a face at him and went off in search of Mrs. Lee’s coffee, walking through the garden. If she was really fortunate, the girls would be off with Margaret for what she called their morning constitutional. Otherwise she would be overwhelmed with questions about her plans for the day, none of which she could answer honestly.
With the door and windows all open the smells that came from the kitchen reminded Anna of Thanksgiving, an odd thing for the last week of June. Mrs. Lee had been cooking and baking for days, and had prepared so many things to take with them to Greenwood that Jack had arranged for his cousins to transport it all in one of the shop delivery wagons. Now Mrs. Lee was in a rush, putting the finishing touches on everything from a ham to an assortment of pies.
Anna said, “We don’t have to bring enough food for the whole crowd, Mrs. Lee,” and recognized her tactical error before the last word was out of her mouth.
Mrs. Lee lowered her chin to her breast to peer at Anna over the top of her spectacles and delivered one of her lectures, short and to the point: She, Anna Savard, brought up in this very kitchen and reminded every day since she was three years old the importance of good manners, should realize that the Weeds and Roses folks could not call on the Mezzanottes empty-handed.
While Anna listened she poured herself a cup of coffee and milk and tried to look repentant.
From her spot at the kitchen table Aunt Quinlan said, “Leave her be, Anna. You know she’s not happy unless she’s feeding people. And don’t you look pretty. Where are you two off to this morning, anyway?”
“It’s a secret,” Mrs. Lee said. “Jack came by earlier to ask Henry could they take the Rockaway. Detective work.”
Anna hooked a warm roll from a pan that had just come out of the oven, and jumped back before Mrs. Lee could smack her hand.
“It’s not a secret,” she said. “But it’s too complicated to explain just now.”
“Is that so.” Mrs. Lee’s expression narrowed.
“I promise to tell all later,” she said, and pressed an impromptu kiss on the old lady’s cheek.
“Get on with you.” Mrs. Lee flapped her hands, but she was smiling. “I got work to do.”
“A calf to butcher? A last-minute ten-layer cake?”
“Anna,” her aunt said. “If you can spare a few minutes, I had a letter from Sophie yesterday.”