He shrugged. “That’s not what worries me. What worries me is that she’ll like the idea, and my parents will forbid it. Then Celestina is worse off.”
Anna put her hand on his thigh and felt him start in surprise. It was a bold thing to do in public, even with so little traffic on the streets—but she meant to startle him. “What if I talked to your mother about it? If she agreed, could she win your father over? At that point the subject could be raised with Bambina.”
He shook his head and let out a half laugh. “Go ahead and talk to Mama if you can get her alone for a quarter hour.” He covered her hand with his own and squeezed. Anna gave him a smile, wondering what exactly she had gotten herself into.
? ? ?
TRAFFIC PICKED UP but they still made good time. Broadway became Bloomingdale Road and houses grew farther apart, interrupted now and then by churches, dairy farms, hatcheries, horse pastures, warehouses, nurseries. This far out of the city every building was surrounded by parks: the Leake and Watts Orphan Asylum, the Insane Asylum, the Colored Orphan Asylum all looked like pleasant places to those who kept their distance. Anna, who had visited many such places when she was in training, knew better.
But they did look wonderful from the road. They drove past the Convent of the Sacred Heart in an ocean of green that stretched from 130th to 135th Streets, and then the Hebrew Orphan Asylum, one place Anna had never been but Sophie had, making rounds with Dr. Jacobi. Jack turned left on 155th and right on Eleventh Boulevard, passing Audubon Park; and turned one last time left onto a half-built road to arrive, finally, at the New York School for the Deaf and Dumb.
Anna had expected something quite small, and was surprised to see four large, well-kept buildings arranged in a quadrangle. The road approached from the rear, and as they circled around to the front entrance the landscaped grounds opened into a larger field where children were playing with a ball. The whole of the property was surrounded by woods, the kind that offered cool shade in the hottest months. A breeze came from the Hudson, which must be just beyond the woods.
Jack said, “From a distance you wouldn’t know anything was different about them.”
She followed his line of sight to the children.
“I thought there would be more of them,” he said. “It looks like they’d have room for at least four hundred students.”
Anna watched for a moment as they drew closer. Deaf or hearing, children were fearless; boys climbed onto a tree stump to fling themselves into space as though gravity had no authority and deserved no respect. A small group of girls stood in a circle playing cat’s cradle, all eyes intent on the hands of the two girls who were competing. There were children playing like this everywhere in the world, but few of them would be as silent.
“I would guess that most of them go home for some part of the summer. It’s not an orphan asylum.”
“Which raises a question,” Jack said, just as a gaunt man of about sixty stepped out of the front doors of the school. There was a woman with him who Anna guessed must be his daughter, so strong was the resemblance, from the line of the jaw and nose to the color and texture of their hair. Neat, orderly, like schoolteachers everywhere; reserved, but not unfriendly. The two waited as the carriage came to a standstill and Jack helped Anna down.
She looked up at them, using a hand to shield the sun from her face. “Hello. We were hoping to speak to the director, if he’s available on a Sunday.”
“That would be me. Alan Timbie.” He came down two steps to shake hands, gesturing to the young woman to join him. “This is my daughter Miranda, one of our teachers. We are expecting the Humbolt family, but you aren’t the Humbolts, are you?”
They introduced themselves and then waited as Alan Timbie turned to his daughter and they had a conversation in sign language.
To Anna and Jack he said, “We have a new student arriving within the hour, but I can talk to you until they come, if you like. I’m quite curious about what brings a New York Police Department detective sergeant to our door.”
They sat down in a waiting room while Jack described Tonino, saying nothing of his circumstances beyond the fact that he had been separated from his family. Anna watched for some reaction, but the director’s expression revealed nothing but polite concern. When Jack had finished Timbie nodded.
“We have a boy here who fits your description, but I don’t think he’s the child you’re looking for.”