Tess Gerritsen - The Bone Garden - A Novel

— I took the liberty of packing your belongings, — he said. — Since you are no longer welcome at Mrs. O'Keefe's establishment. —

She picked up the bag from the mud, her face flushing with outrage at the thought of Eben pawing through her clothes, her private possessions.

— And don't come begging for my charity, — he added.

— Was that what you forced on me last night? Charity? —

Straightening, she met his gaze, and felt a thrill of satisfaction at the sight of his bruised lip. Did I do that? Good for me . Her cold retort clearly enraged him, and he took a step closer, then glanced at the two gravediggers still at work filling in the hole. He halted, his hand balled in a fist. Go ahead, she thought. Hit me, while I hold your daughter in my arms. Let the world see what kind of coward you are.

His lips peeled back, like an animal baring its teeth, and his words came out in a whisper, tight and dangerous. — You had no right to talk to the Night Watch. They came this morning, during breakfast. All the other lodgers are gossiping about it. —

— I only told them the God's truth. What you did to me. —

— As if anyone believes you . You know what I told Mr. Pratt? I told him what you really are. A little cock-tease. I told him how I took you in, fed you, housed you, just to please my wife. And this is how you repay my generosity! —

— Do you not even care that she's gone? — Rose looked down at the grave. — You didn't come here to say goodbye. 'Tis only to bully me, that's why you're here. While your own wife— —

— My own dear wife couldn't abide you, either. —

Rose's gaze snapped up to his. — You're lying. —

— Don't believe me? — He gave a snort. — You should have heard the things she whispered to me while you slept. What a burden you were, just a millstone she had to drag around, because she knew you'd starve without our charity. —

— I worked for my keep! Every day, I did. —

— As if I couldn't find a dozen other girls, cheaper girls, just as handy with a needle and thread? Go on, go out there, see what kind of position you land. See how long it takes before you're starving. You'll come back to me begging. —

— For you? — It was Rose's turn to laugh, and she did, though hunger had clenched her stomach into a knot. She had hoped that Eben would awaken sober this morning, to feel at least a twinge of regret for what he'd done last night. That with Aurnia's death, he'd suddenly appreciate the treasure he'd lost, and would be a better man for his grief. But she'd been as foolishly trusting as Aurnia, to believe that he could ever rise above his petty pride. Last night, Rose had humiliated him, and in the light of day he stood stripped of all pretense. She saw no grief in his eyes, only wounded vanity, and now she took pleasure from slicing the wound even deeper.

— Yes, maybe I'll go hungry, — she added. — But at least I look after my own. I see to my sister's burial. I'll raise her child. What kind of a man do you think people will call you when they hear you gave up your own daughter? That you didn't pay a penny to bury your own wife? —

His face flushed scarlet, and he glanced at the two diggers, who had finished their task and now stood listening, rapt with attention. Tight-lipped, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of coins. — Here! — he snapped, and held them out to the diggers. — Take it! —

The older man glanced uneasily at Rose. — The lady here paid us already, sir. —

— Goddamn it, take the bloody money! — Eben grabbed the man's dirt-stained hand and slapped the coins into his palm. Then he looked at Rose. — Consider my obligation fulfilled. And now you have something that belongs to me. —

— You don't care a whit about Meggie. Why would you want her? —

— It's not the brat I want. It's the other things. Aurnia's things. I'm her husband, so by all rights her possessions come to me. —

— There is nothing. —

— The hospital told me they gave you her belongings last night. —

— Is that all you want? — She removed the small bundle she'd tied around her waist and handed it to him. — It's yours, then. —

He opened the bundle, and the soiled night frock and hair ribbon fell to the ground. — Where's the rest? —

— Her ring is there. —

— This piece of tin? — He held up Aurnia's good-luck ring with the stones of colored glass. He snorted and tossed it at Rose's feet. — Worthless. You'll find one just like it on the finger of every cheap girl in Boston. —

— She left her wedding ring at home. You know that. —

— I'm talking about the necklace. A gold locket. Never told me how she got it, and all these months she refused to sell it, even though I could've used the money for the shop. For all that I've put up with, I deserve at least that much in return. —

— You don't deserve one fine hair from her head. —

— Where is it? —

— I pawned it. How do you think I paid for her burial? —

— It was worth far more than this, — he retorted, pointing at the grave.

— It's gone, Eben. I paid for this grave, and you're not welcome here. You gave my sister no peace while she was alive. The least you can do is allow her to rest in peace now. —

He glanced at the old gravedigger, who was glowering at him. Oh, Eben was quick to hit a woman when no one was looking, but now he had to struggle to keep his fists at his sides, his abusive tongue in check. All he said was, — You'll hear more about this later, Rose. — Then he turned and walked away.

— Miss? Miss? —

Rose turned to the old digger, who met her gaze with a look of sympathy. — You already paid us. I expect you'll want this. It should keep you and the baby fed for a time. —

She stared at the coins that he'd placed in her hand. And she thought: For a while, this will hold off our hunger. It will pay for a wet nurse.

The two laborers gathered up their tools and left Rose standing beside the fresh mound of Aurnia's grave. Once the dirt settles, she thought, I will buy you a stone marker. Perhaps I can save enough to engrave more than just your name, darling. A carving of an angel, or a few lines of a poem to tell the world how much emptier it is for having lost you.

She heard muffled sobs as the mourners from the other funeral now began to file out of the cemetery. She watched pallid faces swaddled in black wool float by in the mist. So many here to mourn the loss of a child. Where are your mourners, Aurnia?

Only then did she remember Mary Robinson. She glanced around, but did not see the nurse anywhere. The arrival of Eben, spoiling for a fight, must have driven her off. Yet another grudge Rose would always carry against him.

Drops of rain splashed her face. The other mourners, heads bent, filed from the cemetery toward waiting carriages and warm suppers. Only Rose lingered, clutching Meggie as rain muddied the earth.

— Sleep well, darling, — she whispered.

She picked up her satchel and Aurnia's scattered belongings. Then she and Meggie left St. Augustine's and headed toward the slums of South Boston.

— MIDWIFERY IS the branch of medicine which treats of conception and its consequences. And today, you have heard some of those consequences. Many of them, alas, tragic… —

Even from the grand stairway outside the auditorium, Norris could hear the booming voice of Dr. Crouch, and he hastened up the steps, vexed that he had arrived so late for morning lectures. But last night he had once again spent in the gruff company of Wall-eyed Jack, an expedition that had taken them south to Quincy. The whole way, Jack had complained about his back, which was the only reason he had asked Norris to accompany him on this latest run. They had returned to Boston well after midnight, carting only one specimen in such poor shape that Dr. Sewall, upon peeling back the tarp, had grimaced at the smell. — This one has been in the ground for days, — Sewall had complained. — Could you not use your noses? The stink alone should have told you! —