I walked over to Lexington Avenue and took the train back up to Harlem. Once at my office, I called Ruth at her church.
“I might’ve found Beth. I’m going over to see her tonight. You want to come with me?”
“I don’t know. She might not want to talk to me.”
“How about you wanting to talk to her? Now’s your chance to apologize.”
A pause and then a nervous decision: “All right.”
“Look, if it makes you feel any better, there could be another reason why Beth dropped off the scene.” I told her what I’d learned. “Now I don’t mean to be spreading the girl’s business around, but at least you know she was busy with problems of her own.”
“Oh, that’s rotten. Did the guy skip out on her?”
“Don’t know. Could be.”
“Beth must’ve been feeling real bad.” A thoughtful pause. “But she should’ve called me. I would’ve understood. She should’ve known I wouldn’t hold nothing like that against her. Sure, I’ll go with you, When were you thinking about?”
“This evening.”
I offered to pick her up at her apartment at seven.
“Can you make it a little earlier? Say around half past five? I want to stop by and see my mother. If you come with me, then you can see her, too.”
I agreed and we hung up.
Ruth Todd had moved to a tenement building over on 140th Street and Eighth Avenue. She was leaving her house as I came up. We headed east, over to Seventh. A stray cat scooted across our path, gray and ragged.
“Where’s Job?” I asked.
“Visiting friends. We got some nice neighbors, thank the Lord. They got a boy his age and they let Job sleep over when I got to work late.”
“And is work going well?”
She smiled and shrugged. “It’s a good job, but maybe a bit much for one person. It’d be great if I could find somebody to help. But you know how it is,” she laughed. “Good help ain’t easy to find.”
The wind cut through my coat like a knife through butter. A thin sheen of ice covered the ground and it was slippery going. I kept my head down and shoulders hunched. My feet hurt from the cold, even though I had boots on. My eyes strayed to Ruth’s thin-soled shoes and I decided I had nothing to complain about.
I tried to work the stiff muscles in my face. This was not the best time to be posing questions, but it would have to do.
“Ruth, what kind of man was Esther drawn to?”
She rubbed her face with nervous hands, and then shoved them deep into her pockets.
“Smart guys. She really liked the brainy ones. She felt bad about not having much schooling herself.”
I made a mental note of that. “Did you notice any changes in her mood, going back months before the disappearance?”
Ruth looked uncomfortable. “What kind of changes?”
“Like being cheerful, ‘cause she’d fallen in love, maybe?”
Ruth inclined her head in thought. “Well, back in September, she did seem real upbeat, hopeful in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. It didn’t last long, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t exactly put my finger on it. I asked her about it but she wouldn’t answer, and the look she gave me … It was so sad I didn’t press her.” Her expression clouded. “I guess that was a mistake, letting her off like that. I should’ve asked. Then maybe I would’ve known.”
“You’re assuming she would’ve told you. Maybe she would’ve. But maybe she wouldn’t. You don’t know.”
Ruth nodded, but the look in her eyes was one of old regret.
I sighed. “Ruth, you’ve got to learn to lay your burden down. Beating yourself down for what you should’ve or shouldn’t have done isn’t going to help your mother or you.”
This time she gave a faint smile. She took a deep breath, set her shoulders and blinked back tears.
“It sure is Christmassy out here,” she said, making an effort at small talk.
“Yeah, that it is.”
Preparations for Christmas were under way at every corner. Fake ivy had been twisted around street lamps. Wreaths hung in storefront windows. Street peddlers sold trees. Others hawked Christmas presents: toys, “hot” dresses and the like.
When I’d woken that morning, the world was silent. Now, it was anything but. Car drivers honked at one another. Children yelled at dogs and mothers yelled at children, and the smells of greasy food, gasoline and garbage thickened the air.
When we turned the corner to Harlem Hospital, all that noise fell away. It was as though a big muffling blanket had been dropped around the place.
I asked Ruth about her mother. “Has her condition worsened?”
“No, but she’s not getting any better either.”
We took the elevator up. Diane Todd was in a room with three other women, all in their sixties, all of them fragile. The room was square, with two beds on each side. The walls were a pale yellow. In the harsh light it was hard to tell if they’d been painted that color or were simply dingy. Mrs. Todd was in the bed on the left, to the rear. She was a stick figure propped up by two fat pillows. A red and white checked scarf covered her head. Ruth went over and gently kissed her on the forehead. Mrs. Todd smiled weakly up at her daughter, then looked at me. Ruth beckoned me to come closer.
“Mama, you remember Mrs. Price, don’t you? She’s gonna write about Esther for us.”
Diane Todd extended a shaky hand. I gave it a light squeeze. Her hand was as light as a feather, and just as cool. I glanced up at Ruth. Her eyes showed worry, but she put on a smile.
“How you feeling today, Mama?”
A faint smile was the answer. Mrs. Todd’s eyes turned to me. Her thin eyebrows came together in a look of worry. Ruth gave me a pleading look. Give her some good news.
“I’ve decided to dedicate half of my next two columns to Esther,” I said. “That way her story will be in the paper twice and more people will read about her.”
Diane Todd’s eyes shone with tears. Her lips moved. I leaned closer to hear. Thank you, she whispered. She only managed to get out those two words, but they were more than enough.
If I hadn’t felt obligated already, I would’ve felt so then.