Lately when she saw him, she recognized this new expression on his face. He’d been sobered by the cold truth of mortality. Oddly, it suited him. He was actually more handsome now, with a quiet thoughtfulness about him and a penetrating eye that made Allene blush when they caught each other’s glance. She found that she wanted to touch his chin, capture it in her hands, and bring it closer.
“So,” Allene said, clearing her throat. “You do have a funny way of courting a girl. A girl who was engaged!”
“Apparently.”
“Well, I’m a funny girl, so it fits.”
Just then, Mr. Rossi reentered. “Dinner is ready. Per favore, mangia.” He saw Allene’s hand in Ernie’s and smiled. “Oh! What is this?”
“Oh. I suppose you’re the first to know, Mr. Rossi,” Allene said.
“Know what, exactly?” Ernie asked nervously.
Allene gave him a shy smile. “That I’m being wooed.”
“Well. If you court Miss Allene, she will be happier with a full stomach. Mangia,” Mr. Rossi said brightly. He went to the stairs to call the children down.
Allene grinned. They called the children, who were ecstatic at being together for dinner. They sat as children ought, seen and not heard, while the adults continued their conversation in choppy English, Italian, and Latin. There were memories of Lucia, more tears, and even a little laugher. The pasta and braised chicken were consumed with the hearty appetites that accompany the happy and, for the moment, the fearless.
All in all, it was one of the best dinners Allene had ever had. The only thing missing was Lucia, and somehow, she felt as if Lucia were with them. On the way home in the deepening twilight, Holly fell asleep in Allene’s lap. Allene wrapped a protective arm around her and leaned into Ernie.
“Ernie,” Allene began, “what would you think if I told you I was applying for medical school?”
“Since when do you want to be a doctor? I always pegged you as a chemistry professor. All those fun parlor tricks of yours and all.”
“I don’t know. I think it was . . . because of Lucia. Taking care of her was something I’d never experienced. I find that I like to take care of people. I feel like there are a lot of Lucias out there that I could have saved if I’d been trained properly.”
“You’d probably be the only woman in your classes.”
“True.”
“It’ll be a lot of work.”
“True.”
“And the other students would probably flirt with you endlessly.”
“It would be easy to ignore their advances if I were married,” said Allene. It was an effort not to make her voice shake.
Ernie abruptly stopped talking. This time, it was he who commented, with excruciating slowness, “True.”
They’d arrived at the Cutter house. The driver opened the doors, and Allene asked Josephine to put Holly to bed while she said good-bye to Ernie. She shut the door for privacy as they stood, chilled, on the street outside.
“I won’t be an ordinary wife, you know,” Allene warned him.
“If I wanted ordinary, I wouldn’t be standing here with you, would I?”
“And Holly must be with me. She’s my sister, see, and I’ll not—”
“Holly would have to be safe,” he said firmly. “With you. And us.”
“Say that again.”
Ernie took a step closer and stared down at Allene. She felt tiny next to him but held his hand as firmly as he held hers.
“Us,” he murmured.
She stood on her tiptoes and took his face in her hands as she’d wanted to before. Ernie took her waist in his firm hands and pulled her ever closer.
Somewhere in the world at that moment, there was a birth, a death, a sunrise, and a sunset. There was despair, and a burst of laughter, a promise broken, and a vow made.
And there was this kiss.
It was far from disappointing.
CHAPTER 35
In November, Christmas came early. Twice.
An armistice was signed, and all the terrible killing overseas ceased. And then, for reasons unknown to the scientists in and around the city, influenza somehow loosened its stranglehold on the city in small, blessed increments. All of it was a relief, yet it left behind a bitterness that was impossible to spit out. After all, the dead from both catastrophes would never return.
The war never did consume Jasper, but he didn’t feel graced with good luck. Oscar was forever gone. Birdie’s actions haunted him. He thought about her every day and cursed himself for his accurate memory. In his mind’s eye, he saw her standing in the dark, a luminescent goddess, in Allene’s bedroom that night of the engagement party. He saw the swell of her milky breasts below the edge of her silk dress, her wide, elfin eyes staring blandly over her mother’s casket.
Why? Why hadn’t he understood the darkness already thrumming in her veins? Why had he been so blind to her actions and his own inability to see his future?
The night that Birdie had scribbled down the awful truth in her letter, Jasper dealt with not only his own blindness but his grief too. Theirs had been a magical, tumultuous few months together. Birdie had gotten her wish—they’d spent more time together than ever. But all the memories were laced with bad feelings. The stain would linger until Jasper and Allene themselves turned to dust.
The firemen came to the house and broke down Birdie’s door, only to find that there was nothing to save but a corpse. The autopsy happened soon after, but it was one that Jasper refused to attend. The game, in the words of Birdie, was finally over. True, she had achieved a bit of immortality by having her picture and name in the papers the next day, hawked by the newsies on every corner. But the one unknown was still yet to be revealed. He waited, like Allene did, for the medical examiner’s report several weeks later.
The day the report arrived, Allene quietly called him to the Cutter house so he could read the results himself. Jasper peered at the familiar script from the coroner’s office.
“Blood cancer of the bones. Multiple fractures of the left tibia, right wrist, thoracic vertebrae numbers nine and ten. Advanced osteosarcoma of the leg. Jaw necrosis, bilateral, with abscesses. Saddle embolus of the pulmonary arteries.” Jasper sat down and folded the papers. He felt as spent as he looked.
“Does it say anything about poison?” Allene asked.
“No. They couldn’t find anything beyond a little ether, but that’s no surprise. But it didn’t kill her. The embolus did. It was enormous. She had no blood flow to her lungs after that clot hit her.”
“So Birdie was right. There is a final mystery, isn’t there? Why she had all those cancers?”
“Yes. But I for one won’t be searching for the answer. Let the coroner do that. Not my job anymore.”