Anna sat down, her mood gone.
“I know how you’re feeling,” her aunt said. “It takes courage to open Sophie’s letters. So let me just tell you, Cap is stable. That low-grade fever is still hanging on, but his spirits are good. He doesn’t complain about food or even treatments, and sleeps a great deal.”
“And Sophie?”
“You know your cousin, she doesn’t write about herself.”
“Stories to tell about the folks in the village—” Mrs. Lee interjected. “Ignorant as they are.”
Anna looked up in surprise, and her aunt explained.
“Sophie wrote about a little boy asking if he could see her tail.”
“The ignorance of it,” Mrs. Lee said. “She shouldn’t have to contend with such meanness of spirit. She should be home here with us where people know her worth and don’t insult her asking can they see her tail. You would never let one of your children talk to a stranger like that, Lily, and you know it.”
When Mrs. Lee called Aunt Quinlan by her first name, she had come to the end of her patience.
“I want her home,” Mrs. Lee went on. “But to get her here we got to lose Cap. I’m always wanting to ask you, Anna, will Sophie be home by the end of the summer, but I stop myself. It would be like asking when will it be that Cap passes over.”
Anna had to swallow very hard to find her voice. “She went of her own free will, Mrs. Lee. She went gladly, because she wants and needs to be with Cap. No doubt it is odd and sometimes uncomfortable for her, but Sophie won’t let anything get in the way of caring for him, you know that. If it makes you feel better, sit down and write her a letter and say what you’re thinking.”
“I’ma do just that,” Mrs. Lee said. “First thing we get home.”
“And now I have to go. I’ll see you all at Greenwood.” Her voice came a little hoarse.
“What about your satchels?” her aunt asked.
“On the back porch. Ned will fetch them when the wagon comes.” She glanced around the kitchen, but bit back a smile. “For all this.”
“You won’t be late.” As close as her aunt came to issuing a command.
“Of course not. We’ll be there in the late afternoon.”
“Late afternoon?” Mrs. Lee shook her head. “Where you going to eat between now and then? One of them little cafés where they serve out stomachache as a first and last course? Is that how you look after your husband? I swear.”
While she talked she grabbed up things and stuffed them into a marketing basket. Then she thrust it at Anna. “Lunch.”
Anna was still smiling to herself when she got back to the stable and found that they were set to leave, Bonny stomping to announce she was eager to be on the road. Jack’s face was already damp with sweat, but he looked pleased with himself.
“There’s Ned,” Mr. Lee said, pointing with his chin. “He’s unsure about coming along today. Just so you know.”
Mr. Lee had decided that Ned belonged here, that was obvious to Anna. She wondered if Ned realized as much.
Jack called out in Italian, his tone easy, but Ned’s face contorted in mock terror.
“Didn’t do it,” he called back. “Wasn’t me.”
Coming up to him Anna gave him a gentle push. “Stop pretending to be an outlaw.”
“I think I’m insulted,” Ned said, rubbing his shoulder.
Jack said, “What else do you know about Moby Dick’s wife?”
Ned’s look of surprise was genuine. “Well, let’s see. She’s from an old Dutch family in Harlem, don’t remember her maiden name. You headed up to talk to her?”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “She goes by Hope March, Mrs. March?”
“That would be Moby’s moniker when he’s plying his trade, Richard March.”
“And she teaches at the school for the deaf, you’re sure of it.”
“She teaches knitting and sewing and such to the girls.”
Anna said to Jack, “Stop interrogating him.” And to Ned: “Do you happen to remember anything else about the boy she mentioned to you, beyond his hair and eye color?”
Ned glanced down at the ground, scuffed the cobblestones with his heel, hesitating.
“Spit it out,” Jack said. “Whatever it is.”
He shrugged. “She said the kid was simple, you know. Slow. Like a lot of deaf kids, his brains got scrambled somewhere along the way. But she wasn’t mean about it. Moby always was a softhearted mope, they suit each other that way.”
“There’s more than one softhearted mope in this story,” Anna said.
“What if it is him?” Ned wanted to know.
“We’ll bring him home,” Anna said. “And your friend’s wife will get a reward. But Ned, don’t say a word to anybody, especially not the girls.”
Now he looked insulted. “I wouldn’t hurt those girls for the world.”
Anna touched his shoulder. “We know that. Are you coming to Greenwood with us?”
Jack had started to turn away, but he stopped to glance at Ned. “You’re invited, in case you need reminding.”
“Do your sisters know that?” Ned asked him.
Jack grinned. “I guess we’ll find out.”