Tess Gerritsen - The Bone Garden - A Novel

Walk she did, moving swiftly through the bone-chilling mist, her footfalls echoing off brick and mortar as she navigated the warren of streets, toward the wharves. On this inhospitable night, she passed few others, and she hugged her shawl tighter, as though it offered a cloak of invisibility against unseen eyes that might regard her with hostile intent. She picked up her pace, and her breath seemed unnaturally loud, magnified by the thickening fog that grew ever denser as she moved toward the harbor. Then, through the rush of her own breathing, she heard footsteps behind her.

She stopped and turned.

The footsteps moved closer.

She backed away, her heart hammering. In the swirling mist, a dark form slowly congealed into something solid, something that was coming straight at her.

A voice called out: — Miss Rose! Miss Rose! Is that you? —

All the tension drained from her muscles. She released a deep breath as she watched the gangly teenager emerge from the fog. — Dash it all, Billy. I should box your ears! —

— For what, Miss Rose? —

— For scarin' me half to death. —

From the pathetic look he gave her, you'd think she had boxed his ears. — I didn't mean to, — he whimpered. And of course it was true; the boy couldn't be blamed for half of what he did. Everyone knew Dim Billy, but no one wanted to claim him. He was a constant and annoying presence on Boston's West End, wandering from barn to stable in search of a place to bed down, begging a meal here and there from scraps handed out by pitying housewives and fishmongers. Billy wiped a filthy hand across his face and whined, — Now you're all wrathy at me, ain't you? —

— What're you doing out and about at this hour? —

— Lookin' for my pup. He's lost. —

More likely ran away, if the pup had any sense. — Well then, I hope you find him, — she said, and turned to continue on her way.

He trailed after her. — Where're you going? —

— To fetch Eben. He needs to come to the hospital. —

— Why? —

— Because my sister is very ill. —

— How ill? —

— She has a fever, Billy. — And after a week in the lying-in ward, Rose understood what lay ahead. Within a day of giving birth to baby Meggie, Aurnia's belly had begun to bloat, her womb to drain the foul discharge that Rose knew was almost invariably the beginning of the end. She had seen so many of the other new mothers on the ward die of childbed fever. She had seen the look of pity in Nurse Robinson's eyes, a look that said: There is nothing to be done.

— Is she going to die? —

— I don't know, — she said softly. — I don't know. —

— I'm afraid of dead people. When I was little, I saw my own da dead. They wanted me to kiss him, even though his skin was all burned off, but I wouldn't do it. Was I a bad boy not to do it? —

— No, Billy. I've never known you to be a bad boy. —

— I didn't want to touch him. But he was my da, and they said I had to. —

— Can you tell me about it later? I'm in a hurry. —

— I know. Because you want to fetch Mr. Tate. —

— Go look for your pup now, why don't you? — She quickened her pace, hoping that this time the boy would not follow her.

— He's not at the lodging house. —

It took her a few paces to register what Billy had just said. She stopped. — What? —

— Mr. Tate, he's not at Mrs. O'Keefe's. —

— How do you know? Where is he? —

— I seen him over at the Mermaid. Mr. Sitterley gave me a spot of lamb pie, but he said I had to eat it outside in the alley. Then I saw Mr. Tate go in, and he didn't even say hello. —

— Are you sure, Billy? Is he still there? —

— If you pay me a quarter, I'll take you. —

She waved him away. — I don't have a quarter. I know the way. —

— A ninepence? —

She walked away. — Or a ninepence, either. —

— A large cent? A half cent? —

Rose kept walking and was relieved when at last she was able to shake off the pest. Her mind was on Eben, on what she would say to him. All the anger that she'd been holding in against her brother-in-law was now rising to a boil, and by the time she reached the Mermaid, she was ready to spring on him like a cat with claws bared. She paused outside the doorway and took a few deep breaths. Through the window, she saw the warm glow of firelight and heard the rumble of laughter. She was tempted to simply walk away and leave him to his cups. Aurnia would never know the difference.

It's his last chance to say goodbye. You have to do this.

Rose pushed through the door, into the tavern.

The heat from the fireplace brought prickles to her cold-numbed cheeks. She paused near the entrance, gazing around the room at patrons gathered at tables, huddled at the bar. At a corner table, a woman with wild dark hair and a green dress was laughing loudly. Several men turned to stare at Rose, and the looks they gave her made her pull her shawl tighter, even in that overheated room.

— You want to be served? — a man called out to her from behind the bar. This must be Mr. Sitterley, she thought, the barkeep who'd given Dim Billy a taste of lamb pie, no doubt to shoo the boy out of his establishment. — Miss? — the man asked.

She said. — It's a man I'm looking for. — Her gaze came to a stop on the woman in the green dress. Sitting beside her was a man who now turned and shot Rose a resentful look.

She crossed to his table. On closer inspection, the woman seated beside him looked thoroughly unappealing, the bodice of her dress soiled with spilled drink and food. Her mouth gaped open, revealing rotting teeth. — You need to come to the hospital, Eben, — said Rose.

Aurnia's husband shrugged. — Can't you see I'm busy grieving? —

— Go to her now, while you can. While she still lives. —

— Who's she talking about, darlin'? — the woman said, tugging on Eben's sleeve, and Rose caught a nauseating whiff of those rotting teeth.

Eben grunted. — My wife. —

— You didn't tell me you had a wife. —

— So I'm tellin' you now. — He took a sip of rum.

— How can you be so heartless? — said Rose. — It's been seven days since you've been to see her. You haven't even come to see your own daughter! —

— Already signed over my rights to her. Let the ladies at the infant asylum have her. —

She stared at him, appalled. — You can't be serious. —

— How'm I supposed to care for the brat? She's the only reason I married your sister. Baby on the way, I did my duty. But she was no cherry, that one. — He gave a shrug. — They'll find a good home for her. —

— She belongs with her family. I'll raise her myself, if I have to. —

— You? — He laughed. — You're just months off the boat, and all you know is a needle and thread. —

— I know enough to look after my own flesh and blood. — Rose grabbed his arm. — Get up. You will come with me. —

He shook her off. — Leave me alone. —

— Get up, you bastard. — With both hands, she hauled on his arm, and he stumbled to his feet. — She has but a few hours left. Even if you have to lie to her, even if she can't hear you, you will tell her you love her! —

He shoved her away and stood swaying, drunk and unsteady. The tavern had fallen silent, save for the crackle of flames in the fireplace. Eben glanced around at all the eyes watching him in disapproval. They'd all heard the conversation, and clearly there was no sympathy for him here.

He drew himself up straight and managed a civil tone. — No need to rail at me like a harpy. I'll come. — He gave his jacket a tug, neatened his collar. — I was only finishing up my drink. —