“I wasn’t sure,” Jack said. “I just caught a glimpse of his head. You think it’s him?”
“Yes.”
She had known him almost immediately. When she first saw Vittorio in Hoboken he had been in Rosa’s arms. A strong child, who held up his head and turned toward the sound of his sister’s voice, kicked vigorously and produced a wide, toothless smile—all signs of timely development.
“Two months is an eternity in the life of an infant,” she said. “Vittorio Russo is almost twice the age he was when I examined him in Hoboken. But yes, I think it is him. The coloring is distinctive, and it’s hard to overlook the fact that this family lives so near Mount Loretto.”
“The father had blue eyes,” Jack said.
“Did he?”
“And he was fair-haired. They all were.”
“It’s unlikely that they would produce a dark-haired child, then.”
Jack said, “Is there a way to find out for sure—beyond asking Father McKinnawae?”
They were silent for a few minutes as the horse picked up its pace. Horses wanted to get home as much as people did, Mr. Lee had told her once.
“We could talk to the parents,” Anna said, finally.
“No, we can’t,” Jack said, easily.
And he was right; approaching the family was to be avoided at all costs. They would take offense or feel threatened or both, and not without cause.
Anna said, “I wonder who delivers children here. If there’s a midwife or a doctor.”
“I think Nell is probably the better prospect,” Jack said.
“Nell?” And then Anna remembered, the waitress at the café. “You’re right, I think. She spends all day watching people come and go, but the café isn’t open in the evening.”
If they stayed overnight, they could talk to Nell over breakfast. Anna found she didn’t have the courage to make such a suggestion.
• • •
THEY RETURNED THE horse and trap to a cheerful Mr. James Malone, who had been joined by a Michael Malone, the very image of his father and far more talkative.
While the men discussed horses and the weather—Jack was working his way around to asking about a hotel, she was sure—Anna wandered away to read notices nailed to the wall of the livery. Livestock for sale, someone hoping to buy a secondhand plow, a lost dog, a boatswain open for business, a respectable lady who did laundry at a very reasonable rate. There were notices of church services in Perth Amboy: First Presbyterian, United Methodist, St. Peter’s Episcopal, Second Baptist, and St. Mary’s Catholic. She wondered if Mount Loretto’s church would serve the community too. There seemed to be a large Irish population. On the notices she saw a scattering of German names, but many more like Ryan, McCarthy, O’Neill, Daly, Duffy, and O’Shea.
Jack came up behind her. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Tottenville was more a village than a town, but a growing one and well kept, the sidewalks swept, gutters cleaned, and display windows free of grime. They passed a dry goods store, a grocer, a barbershop, all doing a lot of business late on a Saturday afternoon.
“Here’s the doctor you were wondering about.” Jack inclined his head to a shingle that hung on the gate of a substantial house. Dr. Nelson Drake was responsible for the health and well-being of this pretty town at the southernmost point of New York State, and he seemed to be prospering. Just across from the doctor was the town court and post office, still open for business and beyond that, the Tottenville Hotel.
A block farther on they found a smithy with a sign nailed to the outside wall:
EAMON MULLEN
GENERAL BLACKSMITHING, HORSESHOEING,
PLOW AND WOODWORK
The wide doors were shut and the window shuttered, no sign of life anywhere.
They had come to the end of the little street, where they found a bench that looked out over a small wilderness and beyond that, the sea.
“We don’t even know if it’s the same Mullen,” Anna said.
Jack covered her hand with his own. “It’s harder now, isn’t it. Seeing him with a family. He looked healthy.”
“Yes,” Anna agreed. “He looked healthy and well loved. And the older sister, too. No lack of nourishment or attention.”
“Why would they have adopted?” Jack asked.
Anna thought back over all the women she had cared for, the ones who were desperate to have children, and those who were terrified by the idea. Almost every woman she knew had a story of a mother or sister or aunt who had died giving birth or shortly thereafter, or who had lost one child after another. There were women who grew shells that allowed them to survive such losses, and others who broke under the weight.
“She might have lost a child,” Anna said. “Or she can’t conceive. That’s not uncommon.”
“Was the daughter adopted too, do you think?”
Anna was surprised by the question, which hadn’t occurred to her. “She could be, I suppose. There’s no way really to know, and if she is, it’s likely she hasn’t been told and never will be told. Most people who adopt seem to want it that way.”
Jack pushed out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “Italians don’t think like that,” he said. “We pass children around like pieces on a chessboard.”
Anna hiccupped a laugh. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “One family has too many kids, the sister-in-law has none, they share the wealth, so to speak, send over some kids to be raised in that household. But it’s never kept a secret. In small villages that would be impossible, and even in a city, I can’t imagine it.”
“Your parents never thought to send one of you back to Italy to be raised by an aunt or uncle?” Too late, Anna remembered the reason the Mezzanottes had left Italy, but Jack wasn’t disturbed.
“They did send me back,” he said. “They just waited until I was old enough to stand up for myself to do it.”
Anna shifted to look at him directly. “Do you mean in regard to religion, because of the way the families reacted to your parents’ marriage?”
“In part. When I left for Italy they both warned me not to let the older relatives play tug-of-war with me.”
“Did they do that? Try to win you over to one side or the other?”
He gave her a solemn look. “You can’t imagine the things Italian women will compete for. But I made my position clear right at the start, and after that they kind of lost heart, I suppose. I took the fun out of the battle for my soul.”
“You know,” Anna said. “You’ve never told me where you stand. Do you consider yourself Jewish?”
“Judaism is matrilineal. So whatever I consider myself, my mother’s family sees me as Jewish. But here’s how it worked, when I was a kid. Our parents sat us down and told us the whole story, and then they stood back. It was up to each of us to decide for ourselves. Two of my brothers married Jewish women, and the others married Roman Catholics. Some of them observe the Sabbath, some of them go to church. I can never remember who does what.”
“You are still evading the question,” Anna said.
“I thought it would be clear by now. I haven’t taken a side, and I don’t plan to. I’m happy floating in uncharted waters. I’m the odd one out in the family, not cut out for the farm, too smart for my own good. So they sent me to Italy to study law.”
“We may need a lawyer before this is all resolved,” Anna said after a long moment. “What do you think we should do about the baby?”
“Would you want to claim him?”
Anna tried to gather her thoughts, but they refused to order themselves. It wasn’t the boy she was thinking about, but his mother—the woman who had become his mother—holding him up for the world to admire. Her expression had been serene and utterly calm, as if she had no other purpose but to care for the children gathered to her.
“They haven’
t done anything wrong,” Jack said.
Anna glanced at him sharply. “I never said they had. If it is him, they took in an orphan to raise as their own.”
“Not wanting to give him up wouldn’t be wrong, either,” Jack said. “He’s been with that family for two months. Would he have any memory of his real mother, of Rosa or Lia or Tonino?”
“No,” Anna said. “Or at least, I’ve never seen any evidence of that. He’s well cared for by kind and loving people, and that’s his universe. The only life he knows. Would we have to approach Father McKinnawae as a first step?”
“I think that would be the best way,” Jack said. “If we want to go that route.”
“So not this weekend, then.”
“No.”
“We can take a few days to think it all through, and talk to Aunt Quinlan. But not to the girls.”
Jack said, “That’s a sensible plan.”
“Not talk to the girls yet,” Anna amended.
Jack put a hand on the nape of her neck and rocked her head gently back and forth. For a few long minutes they just sat, and then Jack cleared his throat.
It was a sound Anna knew. He had something to suggest he thought she might not like. Something important. She was trying to remember the last time she had heard him make this sound and it had just come to her—the afternoon he broke the news about buying the old Greber place—when he took her hand.
He said, “I think we should get married.”
Surprised, Anna looked at him. “Haven’t we already agreed to do that?”
He gave a small shake of the head. “I think we should get married today. Right now. By the justice of the peace at the courthouse we just passed.”
“Is this about the hotel room?” Anna said. “Because if we want to stay overnight I’m not so very uncomfortable about registering—”
“No,” Jack said. “It’s not about that. Did you want a big wedding?”
Anna had to clear her own throat. “No. Really, no.”
“Well,” Jack said, smiling. “It’s one way to celebrate your birthday. Why not?”
She studied his expression. “Is this about the Russo baby, about talking to Father McKinnawae?”
That made him laugh. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her. A simple, chaste kiss.
“Father McKinnawae is about the furthest thing from my mind. This isn’t about Sophie and Cap or the inquest or anything but me, wanting to marry you. Today. I’m tired of waiting. I want to go to sleep with you and wake up with you. Starting today.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that, Jack. Where would we live? I can’t move out of the house just when Sophie’s going; it would be terribly disruptive to the girls and Aunt Quinlan, all of them.”
“I see that. But I could move in, just until Weeds is ready.”
Anna knew that her mouth was hanging open, and more than that, she could see that Jack was pleased with her. Because she hadn’t refused, out of hand? Because she was thinking about it?
Because she was thinking about it. Then something occurred to her.
“Your sisters? Your mother? They won’t be offended at being left out?”
“My mother, no. She’s practical. As far as my sisters are concerned, they are so wound up in transforming Weeds that they won’t much care. Really, think about it, Anna. It’s the best part. With my sisters so busy with the house, they’ll point-blank refuse to go home to Greenwood, and Mama will see the logic in letting them finish. Maybe by the time Weeds is ready, everybody will be comfortable with the idea of them staying in the city.”
Anna put a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing out loud.
“Can you come up with any real objections?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
Jack peeled her hand away from her face, kissed the palm, and held on to it.
“Savard, if you’re not ready, all you have to do is say those three words. ‘I’m not ready.’”
Anna’s voice cracked. “What about—Monday? The inquest? Will it complicate things?”
“Just the opposite,” Jack said. “Nobody will be able to challenge my place next to you.”
“In theory I could end up in prison,” Anna said. “If Comstock has his way, that’s exactly what will happen.”
Jack studied their linked hands for a moment, and then he gave her an even, calculating look.
“There are people working on your behalf this weekend.”
“That’s an oddly momentous statement. I do trust Conrad, but—”
“Oscar is hard at work, too.”
That gave her pause. “Oscar?”
“If they want to send somebody to prison, it’s going to be the person who did Janine Campbell harm.”
“Jack,” Anna said. “I appreciate Oscar’s help, but it’s entirely possible that she acted alone, without any assistance.”
“Maybe so,” Jack said. “But Oscar is tracking her movements for the days before she died, I can pretty much guarantee that. If she saw no one out of the ordinary and no one out of the ordinary came to see her—if Oscar can account for all of your time in the last week—that will be the end of the matter. As far as your connection, of course.”
Anna drew in a very deep breath and held it. She could see a half-dozen ways this plan might fail, but then again, it might succeed.
“So can you put that worry out of your mind for the rest of the weekend?”
“I suppose I must,” Anna said. She stood, but he stayed where he was, looking up at her.
“Are you coming?” she said. “They may have already closed the town hall for the day, and then what?”
• • •
IN FACT, THE justice of the peace was almost out the door when they found him. He had already put an old-fashioned stovepipe hat on his perfectly bald head and was standing in the doorway. He looked at them over the top of his spectacles with what could only be called suspicion.
Before Jack had said five words, the man turned his back on them and went back into his office, leaving the door open.
Jack ushered her inside, following closely.
The man who had taken a seat behind the desk was Theodore Baugh, Esq., according to the placard on his desk. He gestured to two chairs, and they sat. Anna wondered if the man would ever speak, and whether she should be nervous about the way he was studying her. Before she could think of something to say that wouldn’t sound silly or inappropriate, the man put both hands on his desk and leaned forward a little.
“Witnesses?”
Jack said, “I’ll go ask the clerk down the hall.”
“The clerk down the hall. In a hurry, I see.”
He didn’t ask why they were in a hurry, and Jack didn’t volunteer any information. Anna was starting to enjoy herself, though she wasn’t sure why.
Justice Baugh pursed his lips thoughtfully, then pointed to something on the wall behind them. Anna and Jack both turned to see a carefully lettered proverb in a simple black frame: Marry in Haste, Repent at Leisure.
A full minute passed while they sat silently, being studied. Anna thought of oral exams in front of a row of professors, grim or bored or encouraging, but she was willing to leave all this to Jack. Somehow she knew that he would not speak first, that he had taken the justice of the peace at face value and accepted a challenge of sorts. She was really quite curious about how the impasse would end.
Another minute passed. With a sigh Justice Baugh got up from his chair, walked around the desk to the door, and opened it. His voice boomed down the hall.
“Mr. Macklin, Mr. Reynolds, I need you down here right away.”
Anna whispered to Jack, “Is he sending for the constables to arrest us, do you think?”
Jack’s mouth quirked at the corner.
When Justice Baugh returned to his desk
chair he drew a piece of paper toward himself, took the cork from a bottle of ink, and picked up his pen. He looked at Jack.
“Name?”
By the time he had finished making a record of Jack’s name, profession, age, place of birth and residence, and the names and birthplaces of his parents, two young men had come into the office. Baugh ignored them as he turned to Anna.
“My name is Liliane Mathilde Savard. I am a physician and surgeon, and today is my twenty-eighth birthday. I was born in Paradise, Hamilton County, New York, and I live at number eighteen Waverly Place in the city. My father was Dr. Henry de Guise Savard, born in New Orleans. My mother was also a physician, Curiosity Bonner Savard, born in Paradise, Hamilton County, New York.”
Justice Baugh’s eyebrows had climbed his forehead while she talked, but he didn’t challenge her. Anna decided that she liked him.
“Either of you have any legal impediments to this marriage?”
When they assured him they did not, he scribbled something on his paper and without looking up said, “Five dollars for the marriage license. Five for the civil ceremony.”
It seemed that Jack had anticipated this much, because he put the money on the desk without looking for his wallet. The bills disappeared into Justice Baugh’s desk drawer with amazing speed.
Then he looked at them over his spectacles one more time, and his whole face split into a smile.
• • •
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER they left Justice Baugh’s office. In his hand Jack held the marriage license and certificate, ink just barely dry, and regarded them as if he had never seen paper before in his life.
“Here,” Anna said, gesturing for them. “I have a folio in my bag.”
Her hands were trembling a little as she tucked the documents away, but the sight of her own signature, strong and clear, gave her back her equilibrium. They had married in haste, it was true, but they had also married out of affection and common interests and love. Even if she had yet to say the word, it was true.
When she straightened again, he was smiling down at her.
“Here we are,” he said. “Married.”