The girls were leaning forward, as interested in Anna as she was in them.
“We met in Hoboken, yes,” Anna said. “In fact, I was about to go out searching for the two of you. You have entire convents up in arms.” She crouched down in front of the girls and touched them lightly: heads, faces, shoulders.
Her aunt said, “We have other guests, Anna.” She nodded toward the alcove where Jack and Oscar stood.
Anna pivoted, her expression suddenly guarded. Jack tried to smile and found himself able to muster no more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“Good evening,” Oscar said, clearly enjoying both the situation and Jack’s carefully masked interest. “Dr. Savard, I hope you will forgive the intrusion.”
A new wash of color rose along her throat and crept into her face, only to fall away just as rapidly to leave behind mottling, something Jack had seen only rarely in his life, on the faces and throats and breasts of the few women he had taken to his bed. The image took him by surprise and made him turn his face to hide his own expression, which he feared would give away as much as a woman’s blush.
Oscar was talking about Pettigrew, the children in the porter’s office at the university, how they had come to find the house. Jack heard only bits of this, he was so flustered by the workings of his own mind. Then he turned his head and saw that Anna Savard was watching him. For a split second he had the idea that she had read his thoughts and seen a picture of herself, stripped bare, in his embrace, breathless.
She smiled, a half smile, a weary but welcoming smile such as she might give anyone.
“Rosa,” she said. “You must promise me never to run away again.”
“They lost my brothers,” Rosa said with great calm. “And they don’t care.”
“Nothing was done out of malice,” Anna said. And seeing the girl’s confusion: “They did not set out to cause you harm.”
“But harm was done.”
Such presence of mind, in such a young girl.
Rosa said, “You won’t send us back, will you?”
And there was the question. Before anyone could respond, Margaret Cooper stood abruptly. “Of course not,” she said in a tone that brooked no discussion. “What these little girls need is a warm bath and a good meal, and then a bed piled high with pillows and blankets and comforters where they can sleep through the night without fear. Where they can sleep as long as they like and then have a large and filling breakfast.”
The most maternal of the group, then. The younger Savard women seemed satisfied to have their cousin take the little girls in hand. Lia, biddable, came off her chair with a thump, trailing blankets. Even Rosa got to her feet without question, her face slack with weariness now that she had finally reached her goal.
? ? ?
THEY WERE GOING into the dining room before Anna had time to make sense of the situation or her own state of mind. Or minds, because she seemed to have more than one. She was exhausted and exhilarated, angry and in the grip of an almost preternatural calm, agitated and focused. Part of that had to do with the turmoil of questions that had occupied her during the cab ride home: how to best search for the missing girls, if there were friends who could be called in to help or if that would further complicate an already fraught situation, if the police should be notified and why the Sisters of Charity had not done so already, if it would be sound reasoning to start by inquiring at hospitals, all of these questions and more. And underlying all of this, a dread that sat heavy: had she shown even minimal interest instead of just walking away from the ferry, this whole situation might have been avoided. She should have done something. Anything.
All of that, only to be relieved of the burden by the simple act of coming home to find the girls in her own parlor. The sight of them safe had worked like cold water on a hot afternoon.
And then she had turned to find Detective Sergeant Mezzanotte looking at her just when she had resigned herself to forgetting him.
He was still looking, sitting across from her at the table in her own home, quiet and observant as his partner told the story in more detail. Now that the little girls were out of the room, they talked more openly about the things that might have gone wrong but didn’t.
Anna applied herself to her food with such focus that it took a moment to realize that someone had asked her a question. Mrs. Lee stood beside her with the soup tureen, one brow raised and a quirk to her mouth that did not bode well. Nothing escaped Mrs. Lee. There would be questions, but Anna would not give her answers because a lie would be sniffed out immediately, and the truth was too tender to be handled.
Aunt Quinlan said, “Anna, did you mention Detective Sergeant Mezzanotte when you told us about your trip to Hoboken on Easter Monday?”