The Lost Girl of Astor Street(7)

The broom clatters to the floor as Tabitha rushes for the telephone.

Footsteps echo in the alley. Walter runs with Lydia clutched to him. The Chicago wind whips her red curls, and also Walter’s hat from his head. But he pays no mind, just runs with her, and my heart seems to explode with appreciation for him.

“Missus!” Tabitha calls from deeper in the house. “It’s Miz Sail. Somethin’s wrong with Miz Lydia!”

I scrape dishes and food to the far end of the kitchen counter, grab a handful of towels to cushion Lydia’s head, and then I rush to hold open the door for Walter.

As he eases Lydia through the doorway, Mrs. LeVine storms into the kitchen. “Where was she? What happened?”

“We found her on the sidewalk near the Barrows’. It looks like she was walking home when the seizure hit. She was still seizing when we found her. We saw maybe a minute of it.”

Walter settles Lydia onto the counter and backs away as Mrs. LeVine leans over her daughter’s motionless body. She presses two fingers to Lydia’s wrist, and with her other hand smooths down her skirt. She gasps at the blood-soaked strands of hair.

I can’t make my voice go above a whisper. “I think that’s where she hit the sidewalk.”

Walter clears his throat. “It doesn’t look very deep, ma’am. Head wounds just bleed a lot.”

He glances at me, and his mouth flickers with a reassuring smile. Walter’s shirt is wet with something. Urine, I think. Heat rushes to my cheeks on behalf of my ladylike friend.

Mrs. LeVine keeps her gaze on Lydia’s hauntingly still face. “Thank you for carrying her home, Walter.” And then, almost to herself, “Why would she have been walking? Where was Matthew?”

“I don’t know.” Taking a full breath seems impossible. “I know he was taking her to watch Cole, but that’s all.”

Lydia shifts on the counter, groans. But then becomes still again.

Tabitha bustles into the room. “Dr. LeVine is on his way, Missus.” Her gaze falls on Lydia, and her shoulders slump. “Oh, Miz Lydia . . .”

“Tabitha, fetch me a wet rag.” The shock seems to have worn off Mrs. LeVine. “And keep the girls out of the kitchen. I don’t want them seeing their sister like this.”

“Yes, Missus.” Tabitha hands her the rag and scurries away to find Hannah and Sarah.

Mrs. LeVine presses the rag to the head wound and turns a severe gaze toward us. “Thank you for delivering her, but I’ll ask that you please allow us to handle this matter as a family now.”

“Yes, of course.” I trail my hand along Lydia’s arm. Her normally fair skin is chalk white, but there’s comfort in the warmth of it. In the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

“Piper, I trust that you will continue to be discreet in the matter of Lydia’s health.”

“Of course.”

Her gaze flicks to Walter and then back at me. “And that you will impart the importance of discretion to Walter as well.”

“Yes, ma’am. Neither of us will breathe a word. Might I—” I hesitate a second. “Might I ring later to check on her?”

Mrs. LeVine’s mouth purses. “Will that not raise too much attention in your house?”

“No, not at all. I know how to be covert when I use the telephone.”

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. LeVine’s gaze, so like Lydia’s and yet so different, flicks up and down me. “I daresay you do.”

I flush and take a step backward. “We’ll leave you to care for Lydia now.”

“Remember, Piper,” Mrs. LeVine calls as Walter holds open the back door for me. “Not a word. Not even to Lydia.”

“Not a word,” I vow.

With a farewell nod of his head, Walter closes the door behind us.

The chill of the wind, which had been an ignorable nuisance before, whips down the alley. My right ankle is sore, and it’s no wonder, running at such a pace.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in all my life,” Walter confesses.

My knees tremble, and I lean against him as we walk along the grit of the alley. “I’m so thankful you were with me. I couldn’t have carried her.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I learned of it only a month ago. I was at the LeVines’. Lydia and I were making fudge, and we sat a spell to rest while it cooled. And . . .” I swallow as emotion rises high in my throat. “We had been sitting there in the living room, just chatting, when Sarah came twirling through the room. And when I looked back to Lydia, she was . . .”

Her head had been angled back, as though she were trying to see the bit of ceiling just behind her view. Her hands, which had been in her lap, were now pulled against her collarbone, the wrists bent in.

“Lydia?” I had dropped my glass of iced tea, though I wouldn’t realize it until later. “Lydia?”

I must have been louder than I thought, because Mrs. LeVine had rushed into the room, Hannah and Sarah close behind her. “Get her on her side!” she ordered, even as she eased Lydia out of the chair and onto the ground. “Girls—leave the room at once.”

A scream stuck in my throat at the sight of prim and frilly Lydia biting her tongue as though it was a bit of chewing gum. Her unblinking, rolled eyes seemed inhuman.