32 

For most of the church service, Sarah wondered why she had let Karl drag her to Second Presbyterian again. It seemed that whenever the Bannings were gone on a weekend, going to church was at the top of his list. But her mind was so scattered, she could hardly make sense of anything. She had shattered a jar of jam on the kitchen floor the day before. When she remembered the way Brad leaned toward her on the gray and crimson love seat, her fingers forgot their grip. Later she had walked off and left a pail of dirty mop water in the middle of the foyer when she felt herself again sliding down the wall of apartment 3E. When Mr. Penard barked a reprimand that the temporary absence of the Bannings was no excuse for slovenly work, Sarah barely heard him because Lillie’s words about Brad’s betrayal rang in her ears. She left the vegetable oil tin open on the dining room table and dropped four peeled potatoes in the trash bin before she came to her senses.

So far Sunday morning had not been any better. Mrs. Fletcher had said, “Get out of my kitchen before you destroy it,” and Sarah had meekly allowed Karl to take her by the hand and lead her out of the house.

Now, sitting in the balcony, she saw a piece of paper on the floor, and she bent to pick it up. The paper had nothing in particular to do with the service. It was a card someone had left in the wooden pew, perhaps a bookmark, with the words set in a narrow strip down the center. Who knew how many weeks it had lain there before Sarah picked it up? Words leaped up at her eyes.

“For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? Matthew 16:26.”

She had come perilously close, she knew, to plummeting into those very questions. Tomorrow that descent would end.

As the minister approached the pulpit to give his sermon, Sarah wondered where Simon was. Was he in the church he loved? Or was he at that moment in the dining hall with all the children old enough to sit still for a brief service? Was he singing a hymn? Was his head bowed in prayer? Was he worshiping because he was sure of God’s love in a way that Sarah was not?

Tomorrow she would make things right. Sarah bowed her own head as grief and remorse gripped her breath. If Simon was right, love could make the difference.

On Monday morning, Mr. Penard admonished Sarah to pay attention to what she was doing. He would not tolerate another day of distractions and accidents.

Flora Banning sat alone at the dining table, leisurely flipping through the latest edition of The Ladies Home Journal long after Leo and Samuel had left for their offices. She seldom came to breakfast as early as they did, preferring instead to have a tray in her room or enjoy the solitude of the dining room at mid-morning with the attention of one of the maids.

Sarah refilled Mrs. Banning’s coffee cup just as the front door opened. Lucy bustled through the foyer and into the dining room, her baby in her arms.

Flora offered her cheek for her daughter’s kiss. “What are you doing here, Lucy?”

“I thought I would drop in to see how your weekend away went.” Lucy settled into the chair around the corner from her mother. “Besides, your granddaughter was begging to see her grandmama.”

Flora smiled. “Of course she was.” She reached over with one hand and moved the blanket back from Stella’s face. Then she put out both arms. “Take off your cloak, Lucy. Sarah will pour you some coffee. Have you had breakfast?”

Lucy deposited the baby in her mother’s arms. “I am hungry,” she confessed. “Ben didn’t seem to want to go to school today, and the baby spit up at a moment that was unpropitious. I had to change my dress. Between the two of them, I never had so much as a piece of toast.”

“You really must get some live-in help,” Flora said, cooing at the baby. “Sarah, fix Lucy a plate.”

Most of the breakfast offerings had been cleared away or grown cold. Sarah did what she could with a croissant and fruit, remembering that Lucy preferred a simple breakfast anyway.

“We manage quite well with Charlotte most of the time,” Lucy said. “I have to be at the orphanage this afternoon. Charlotte will pick up Benny from school and then come fetch Stella so I can go to a meeting.”

“It’s not one of your regular days for the orphanage,” Flora remarked.

“No, but Simon wants to have a meeting with some of the advisors and asked me to be there. And Miss Wagner would like to come by and learn how the office runs.”

“Is she thinking of volunteering there?”

“She seems keen to understand everything she can about St. Andrew’s.” Lucy scooped some fruit onto a fork.

“She ought to be planning her wedding.”

“I’m sure she is, Mother. But it’s still seven weeks away.”

Seven weeks. Sarah set the coffeepot down harder than she meant to. Lillie must have fixed the date. How strange it felt not to be privy to the information. Sarah would have liked to stand up at Lillie’s wedding.

“They’re unhappy, of course,” Simon told Lucy, “as I expected they would be.” Simon plunged one hand into the pocket of his jacket, where he could run his thumb over the pads of his fingers, over and over again, without being observed. He had made the difficult decision about the new children.

“Disappointed, I’m sure.” Lucy leaned forward, her elbows on Simon’s desk opposite him. “Are they pressuring you to reconsider?”

“Not yet. I spelled out my reasons explicitly. I don’t think they dispute them.”

“What do you think will happen to the children when the facility closes down next month?”

Simon dropped his head and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “I honestly don’t know. A settlement house, perhaps. I believe they are talking to Jane Addams. Or a train to farms downstate.”

“How many children still need places?”

“About forty.” Simon felt one knee start to jiggle.

Lucy shook her head. “There are no easy answers. I wish I could take them all home with me.”

Simon stilled his anxiety long enough to regard Lucy Edwards. “You are the biggest-hearted person I know.”

“Thank you. That doesn’t solve the problem.” Lucy pressed her lips together. “We just have to do what we can, one small step at a time. Sarah’s sewing class seems to be a success. We need more programs like that. Volunteers could teach more real life skills.”

Simon nodded. “I think in the spring I’ll ask her to start a new class of beginners, once these girls are well on their way.”

He doubted Sarah would agree, though. Every week he feared she would call an end to the class she already had—especially after she would not speak to him in the street. He had made his feelings clear, and she had turned a deaf ear. He would have to make his peace, one way or another. The offer of employment in Philadelphia was still available. If the board could find someone to take over St. Andrew’s, it would be best to move away.

At the sound of a knock, Simon and Lucy turned their heads in tandem toward the door.

“The gentlemen from the board are here,” Jane said. “I’ve seated them at the table in the spare office.”

“Thank you, Jane,” Simon said. “You’ve been a great help. Why don’t you go back to class now?”

“You have to promise to cover for me,” Sarah said to Mary Catherine.

“Mrs. Fletcher knows exactly how long it takes to go put in an order at the butcher’s.” Mary Catherine closed the icebox firmly.

“She’ll sit down with her feet up in a few minutes,” Sarah said. “She won’t even be sure when I’ve left. Make her a cup of tea. She might even drop off for a while.”

“You always ask me to do things like this, but you never even tell me where you’re going.” Mary Catherine tossed a wooden spoon in the sink. “You have all those pretty dresses, and you never leave the house without one.”

“If you do this for me one last time,” Sarah said, “I’ll give you one of the dresses. Then things will go back to normal. I’ll help you with anything you ask.”

Mary Catherine perked up. “Can I have the beige suit?”

“It’s yours.” Mary Catherine had not set her sights very high, Sarah thought. “Just make sure no one comes looking for me.”

Sarah now leaned against the train’s window as it rumbled above the city blocks. She would give away all her dresses. What was the point of keeping them now? It would take a miracle to get what she wanted from Brad—and she was no longer sure she wanted it.

At the apartment, she put the key in the door. Brad was already there and stood up as she entered.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“How was your trip out of town?” Sarah clenched the strap of her bag.

“Unimportant,” he answered. He kissed her cheek. “Mundane business.”

Oh really?

“Have you thought about how you would like to furnish the apartment?” he asked. Holding one of her hands, he led her into the room.

“I’ve had a few ideas,” she answered truthfully. With her free hand, Sarah pressed the key against the nearest table. Something splintered inside her as she let go.

He smiled slyly. “I had a few things delivered this morning.”

“Oh?” Sarah saw nothing different in the main room.

Still holding her hand, Brad led her down the hall to one of the bedrooms. Her eyes widened and her heart thudded when she saw the double bed with a rich red and gold covering.

“Brad, I don’t think—”

“If you don’t like it, we’ll send it back.” Brad still held her hand and pulled her into the room. “If you don’t like the bedding, we’ll change it.” He laid the back of one hand against her cheek.

“Brad,” she said, her voice hushed, “if only you had shown me this place because you wanted me to be your wife.”

“Marriage is an outdated convention,” he said. He tugged on her hand again, and now they stood at the edge of the bed, where he leaned in and placed his lips softly on hers.

Sarah put her hands on his chest and pushed gently. “No, Brad. Not this way.”

“What way, then?”

“As your wife,” she insisted.

His tone steeled. “Surely you know that is not going to happen.” He stepped away.

“Why shouldn’t it?” He owed her that much.

He chuckled. “Did you seriously think I would not find out the truth?”

Sarah could barely breathe. “What do you mean, Brad?”

“You remember my friend, Mr. Francis Curtis, I’m sure.”

“Yes.”

“It turns out he’s a friend of a young man named Leo Banning, from the university.”

Sarah blanched.

“He thought Serena Cuthbert was most enchanting—but also vaguely familiar. One night he saw her at an affair for the orphans. Something fell into place.”

Sarah refused to tremble.

Brad continued. “A few simple inquiries put all the pieces in place, Miss Cummings.”

She let her shoulders sag and exhaled slowly. “So that’s why—all this.” She swept her hand around the room. “That’s why you won’t speak of marriage.”

He reached for her and captured a hand again. “It’s one reason.”

“Does the other reason live in Lockport?” she asked. Heat flashed through her face.

“You are an exquisite creature,” he said, “even when you’re incensed. I don’t care what you call yourself. You can be Serena Cuthbert and enjoy everything I’m offering you here.”

“Don’t you care for me at all?” Sarah barely found the breath to speak.

“I care for you a great deal,” he answered. “Have I not demonstrated that to you here?”

“And Lockport?”

“A political necessity.”

“I wanted to marry you,” she said.

He shook his head. “Perhaps. But you don’t love me. You love all this. You can still have it, and marriage is not a requirement.”

She backed away from him. “Actually, Mr. Townsend, it is. You’re right. I was nearly willing to sacrifice love for what you could offer me. I was a fool.”

On the train home, Sarah swallowed hard and let her stop pass. Mary Catherine was going to be frantic, and Mrs. Fletcher would soon wake from the doze she would deny taking. But as long as Sarah had been gone this long already, she might as well make things right with Simon while courage still pulsed through her veins. She got off the train only a few blocks from St. Andrew’s—and Simon.

She had to tell him how sorry she was. She had to make him believe it. Sarah lifted her eyes toward the familiar brick building.

Something was burning.

A dalmatian ran past Sarah in the street and shooed off a stray dog. That meant the fire wagons would be right behind. The dalmatian was doing its job in clearing the way.

Sarah started to trot toward the smoke as a team of horses careened past her in the street, pulling a steam pump. The hook and ladder team was on its heels.

St. Andrew’s Orphanage was on fire.