Chapter 29: Rite of Reclamation

 

Greeley stopped with his back to me.

“Ben,” Juno whispered, “what are you talking about?”

I spoke only to Greeley, my voice a broken mess. “Are they still alive?”

His head shifted a fraction, a truculent tilt of his chin. The considered response was all I needed to know. I was right. He had taken them, and if my guess about his motivation was correct, they were alive.

Every moment was another second in which those children were in needless, reckless danger, and another second passed while their parents believed them gone.

Rage exploded in me for all the time lost and all the lies. The surge of anger cut through the stifling fog in my mind. With a roar, I took two huge strides and launched myself at Greeley. He was caught off guard and had no chance to move before I hit him. Heedless of the musket wound in my arm, I barreled to the ground with the slighter man trapped beneath me.

“Where?” I asked. “Where are they, you monster?” Fresh blood oozed from under the linen strapping my bicep. Greeley’s face was mashed against the grass. When he struggled to throw me off, I laid my right forearm across the back of his neck and leaned into him.

Everett dropped the shovel and leapt across the grave to join me. Behind us, I heard Juno conferring with Sarah in frantic tones.

“Are. They. Alive?” I panted.

Greeley said nothing. I pressed down on his neck. The temptation was strong to rise up and stomp on the vertebrae.

Sarah and Juno circled around to Greeley’s head. In a swift motion, Sarah sank to her knees. Her young face was pale and blank. “If this is true, Father, tell me now,” she instructed. Her cool tone belied the horror of the situation. Any emotion had fled to take refuge in some other corner of her mind. She had done the same on the day I first met her, the day she lay curled in silent shock on my quilt. “Do not compound error with error. Mother would not have wanted this for you. She loved you, once.”

The breath whooshed out of Greeley’s lungs. His deflated ribcage flattened another inch or two beneath my weight.

“My children. They were both fine when I left them last night,” he rasped.

“Last night,” Juno echoed in tones of horror. “Hours ago! They are infants, you beast, and not yours.”

I eased some of the pressure on Greeley’s throat so he could speak. He had taken the Roberts and Mofflin babes, a boy and a girl who shared their names with his lost children. “Where?”

“Sarah’s room, of course.”

I jerked my head up to meet Juno’s wide eyes. The children had been with him in his house in the village for weeks. I swallowed down a wretched urge to vomit. If only I had done a thousand things differently, made the connection sooner.

“We need to find them,” said Juno. “Now. Overnight alone is too long for such tiny babies.”

“Find the horse. Go. Take Sarah and ride to Greeley’s house. Everett and I will follow on foot.”

She nodded and took off at a run down the path, Sarah at her side. The wave of anger that had powered me was suddenly gone, and my vision darkened around the edges. Everett caught my arm and pulled me away from Greeley. Instead of standing, I toppled sideways. The pale blue morning sky was an odd, lovely contradiction to the horrible revelations daybreak had brought to Maida Green.

“You need a doctor,” said Everett.

“Just give me a moment.” I sucked in a ragged breath, then exchanged it for a smoother one. The darkness receded from my eyesight. I clasped my right hand over the bandage and returned to my feet in stages—turn, bend, knees, feet. Every step was its own small triumph.

Everett shifted to stand guard over Greeley’s prone form. “What should we do with him?”

I wanted to lock him inside the Hood family vault, but Juno still had the keys. “He’ll have to come with us, for now. We’ll ask someone to fetch the magistrate. Wright will know what to do. Stand up, Greeley.”

We made a slow dawn parade from Maida Green to the lane where Greeley’s house stood at the end of the row. A few villagers paused to watch our procession. With my torn shirt and the musket slung over Everett’s shoulder, we were quite a sight. But Greeley was subdued. Perhaps Juno’s command that he be afflicted with self-awareness had worked.

The lane was quiet. Neither Sarah nor Juno was visible. What if they didn’t find the children? Greeley may have lied. Or what if we arrived too late?

We drew up before the entrance of the shop, Greeley between Everett and me. The front door was flung open. Sarah must have had a key or known where to find one. Everett stared up at the second story. When I traced his glance, I could see no movement through the windows.

“My children are always taken from me,” Greeley mumbled.

“Silence,” I said. To Everett, I said, “I’ll stay with him if you want to go and see—”

Then, a commotion from within the shop. I held my breath as a shadowy figure broached the doorway. My heart clenched, but it was only a black kitten that streaked past—another small creature Greeley had stolen. I had buried its mother under Juno’s oak tree.

Then Sarah rushed out, clutching a swaddled bundle to her chest, with Juno close behind her. She peered down at a small, wrapped shape in her arms. Juno’s lovely face was exhausted and strained with concern, but I knew at once she was not heartbroken.

“Thank God,” I breathed.

When they passed into the sunlight on the street, the glorious, beautiful sound of a furious infant tore through the air.

“A doctor,” said Juno. “Quickly, Everett, please.”

A thousand things began to happen at once, and nobody needed me for any of them. A neighbor, drawn by the sound of crying, emerged and was sent to fetch Wright from his bed. Someone else went to inform the Roberts and the Mofflins. Greeley and I were equally pathetic as a growing crowd of people swirled around us. He made no move to escape, fortunately, for I was in no condition to give chase. Juno frowned at me. She was busy with one of the infants, but I attempted a reassuring smile.

A sunny patch of wall looked terribly tempting. “If it’s quite all right,” I announced to no one in particular, “I’m going to sit by that—”

Then my knees turned to water, and the last thing I remembered thinking was the cobbles in the street were a much harder landing surface than the grass in Maida Green.