whispered, her eyes big and cautious.
I knelt down to her. “Yes, honey?”
She handed me a piece of paper. “I made this for you.”
A bold tear rolled down my cheek and nestled into the crease of my mouth, salty and bitter. “Why, it’s just…beautiful, dear,” I said, looking over the drawing she’d made for me.
“That’s Daniel, there,” she said, pointing to a stick figure holding a stuffed bear. “And that’s me,” she added.
A third figure hovered over the crudely drawn children. A woman, perhaps? The elaborate hat she wore resembled a peacock. “Who’s that, Eva?”
The girl scrunched her nose. “No one.”
“She must be
someone
,” I said. “You drew her here behind you and Daniel. Who is she, honey?”
“Just a lady, that’s all.”
I nodded. “Well,” I said, standing up again, “I love it. Thank you. I shall treasure it, always.”
“You know you can come back,” Caroline said before I turned to leave. “You’re always welcome here.”
I answered with an air of finality I could no longer repress. “Thank you, dear friend, for everything.”
I walked the familiar route back to the apartment, but I didn’t feel my feet touch the ground. I merely floated. Like a ghost, invisible in my grief. People passed, but no one looked at me.
Do they see me?
I pushed past a crowd of angry men lingering near the saloon. The air reeked of ale, skunky tobacco, and sweaty skin from the night before. “Excuse me,” I said to a reasonable-looking man near the doorway. “Have you seen Mr. Ivanoff?” He’d been working in the saloon the morning of the storm. Maybe he’d seen something, someone.
The man’s smile morphed into a sneer, and I regretted the question immediately. “Ivanoff, the mason?”
“Yes,” I said, inching toward the stairs.
The man rubbed the stubble on his chin and took a step closer. “What do you want with him?”
“I want to speak to him,” I said.
“Well, then you’ll need to go down to the jail,” he said with an amused look on his face. “He was arrested last night.”
“Arrested?”
“That’s right,” he said. “Slapped around his missus. Hurt her pretty bad. Doc had to stitch her up.”
My heart raced. I remembered how gentle Mr. Ivanoff had been with Daniel, how softly he’d spoken to him. Like a father. I shivered.
How did I not see that he had a violent streak?
The man edged closer. “If you’re looking for someone else to show you a good time, I—”
“Good day,” I said, pushing past him.
I picked up my skirt and ran to the stairs, nearly tripping on an old bearded man passed out on the landing as I made my way up to the second floor. I pulled the key from my pocket, and a vein in my hand pulsed as I jammed it into the lock.
My heart swelled.
Maybe Daniel is here. Maybe he climbed the cherry tree and pushed through the little window. Maybe he’s waiting inside.
I turned the key, but it stuck. I tried again, turning it right and left, with no luck.
My God. Mr. Garrison. He must have changed the lock.
“No!” I cried, pressing my cheek against the door. I heard footsteps inside. “Hello?” I pounded on the door. “Hello? Who’s in there?”
I jumped back when the doorknob began to turn. The confused face of a girl, no older than eleven, appeared in the doorway. “Can I help you?” she asked.
I pushed past her. “What are you doing here, in my home? Where is Daniel?” I ran to the stairs. “Daniel! It’s Mama. Mama is home.”
A man in a wrinkled white shirt, yellowed and stained around the collar, walked out of the kitchen, suspenders dangling from his pants. “Jane, who is this?”
The girl shrugged. “I don’t know, Papa. She says it’s her apartment.”
“It—it
is
my apartment,” I stammered. “Why are you here? Where is my son? Daniel!”
“There must be some mistake,” the man said. “We moved in three days ago. The landlord said the previous owner died. Told us she had no kin, so he sold
I knelt down to her. “Yes, honey?”
She handed me a piece of paper. “I made this for you.”
A bold tear rolled down my cheek and nestled into the crease of my mouth, salty and bitter. “Why, it’s just…beautiful, dear,” I said, looking over the drawing she’d made for me.
“That’s Daniel, there,” she said, pointing to a stick figure holding a stuffed bear. “And that’s me,” she added.
A third figure hovered over the crudely drawn children. A woman, perhaps? The elaborate hat she wore resembled a peacock. “Who’s that, Eva?”
The girl scrunched her nose. “No one.”
“She must be
someone
,” I said. “You drew her here behind you and Daniel. Who is she, honey?”
“Just a lady, that’s all.”
I nodded. “Well,” I said, standing up again, “I love it. Thank you. I shall treasure it, always.”
“You know you can come back,” Caroline said before I turned to leave. “You’re always welcome here.”
I answered with an air of finality I could no longer repress. “Thank you, dear friend, for everything.”
I walked the familiar route back to the apartment, but I didn’t feel my feet touch the ground. I merely floated. Like a ghost, invisible in my grief. People passed, but no one looked at me.
Do they see me?
I pushed past a crowd of angry men lingering near the saloon. The air reeked of ale, skunky tobacco, and sweaty skin from the night before. “Excuse me,” I said to a reasonable-looking man near the doorway. “Have you seen Mr. Ivanoff?” He’d been working in the saloon the morning of the storm. Maybe he’d seen something, someone.
The man’s smile morphed into a sneer, and I regretted the question immediately. “Ivanoff, the mason?”
“Yes,” I said, inching toward the stairs.
The man rubbed the stubble on his chin and took a step closer. “What do you want with him?”
“I want to speak to him,” I said.
“Well, then you’ll need to go down to the jail,” he said with an amused look on his face. “He was arrested last night.”
“Arrested?”
“That’s right,” he said. “Slapped around his missus. Hurt her pretty bad. Doc had to stitch her up.”
My heart raced. I remembered how gentle Mr. Ivanoff had been with Daniel, how softly he’d spoken to him. Like a father. I shivered.
How did I not see that he had a violent streak?
The man edged closer. “If you’re looking for someone else to show you a good time, I—”
“Good day,” I said, pushing past him.
I picked up my skirt and ran to the stairs, nearly tripping on an old bearded man passed out on the landing as I made my way up to the second floor. I pulled the key from my pocket, and a vein in my hand pulsed as I jammed it into the lock.
My heart swelled.
Maybe Daniel is here. Maybe he climbed the cherry tree and pushed through the little window. Maybe he’s waiting inside.
I turned the key, but it stuck. I tried again, turning it right and left, with no luck.
My God. Mr. Garrison. He must have changed the lock.
“No!” I cried, pressing my cheek against the door. I heard footsteps inside. “Hello?” I pounded on the door. “Hello? Who’s in there?”
I jumped back when the doorknob began to turn. The confused face of a girl, no older than eleven, appeared in the doorway. “Can I help you?” she asked.
I pushed past her. “What are you doing here, in my home? Where is Daniel?” I ran to the stairs. “Daniel! It’s Mama. Mama is home.”
A man in a wrinkled white shirt, yellowed and stained around the collar, walked out of the kitchen, suspenders dangling from his pants. “Jane, who is this?”
The girl shrugged. “I don’t know, Papa. She says it’s her apartment.”
“It—it
is
my apartment,” I stammered. “Why are you here? Where is my son? Daniel!”
“There must be some mistake,” the man said. “We moved in three days ago. The landlord said the previous owner died. Told us she had no kin, so he sold
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