The Keeper of Happy Endings(75)

“It’s how it was done in those days. Twilight sleep, they called it. So you wouldn’t remember after. When I woke up, I felt as if I’d been beaten. There were bruises on my ankles and wrists from the straps. But I didn’t care. I begged to hold her, to feed her, but they said it was too soon. She wasn’t strong enough to nurse. I must have fallen asleep. I was so tired. When I woke up, the little crib was gone, and I began to holler. Someone finally came, one of the matrons, but she wouldn’t look me in the eye. I knew then what was coming, but hearing her say the words nearly broke me in two. Too small to survive. Lungs not developed. Gone to be with the angels.”

Rory closed her eyes, unable to find adequate words of comfort. Language for that kind of anguish simply didn’t exist. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated feebly.

“I knew it would be a girl. I had already named her—Assia. It means ‘one who brings comfort.’” She paused, struggling to swallow. “I heard her cry,” she whispered. “When she was born, I heard her. I wish sometimes that I hadn’t. If she’d been stillborn, lifeless from the moment she left my body, it might have been easier. But knowing she lived for even a few hours without her mère, that she died never knowing my touch, still breaks my heart. I asked to see her, to hold her, but they had already taken her away.”

“Taken her where?” Rory asked, horrified.

“They called the coroner’s office to come for her. It’s the law, so they can verify cause of death for the certificate. They said because I was indigent, Assia would be buried in the county cemetery. There would be no service, no marker. I begged them to stop it, to give me time to find the money to bury her properly. I would have called Anson’s father and begged, but they wouldn’t let me use the phone. Three days later, they told me it was done.”

Rory swallowed a throatful of tears. “Did they at least tell you where, so you could visit her grave?”

“No,” she murmured. “But maybe that’s a blessing. I know it sounds strange, but seeing her grave would have made her death too real.”

“But it was real.”

“Yes, it was. But when you love someone—truly love them—you’re connected in a way that can never be severed. Even when they’re taken from you, years later, you still feel them, like an echo calling back to you. And a part of you is just a little bit glad for those moments, even when they nearly double you up.”

An echo calling back to you.

The thought washed over Rory like a cold breeze. Was that how it would be with Hux? No goodbye, no answers, just nebulous memories?

“I imagine that I see her sometimes,” Soline said in a faraway voice. “Like I used to with Anson. I’ll see a little face in the crowd and my heart goes still for the tiniest instant. She has eyes like her father’s and a grin like her aunt Thia. But then she turns her head and the face is all wrong, and I remember that Assia is gone.”

Rory sat silent for a time, overwhelmed by the totality of Soline’s losses. She denied being brave, but she was wrong. Out of nothing but grief, she had forged a life. A woman, alone in a strange city while a war was raging and there was no real work to speak of, and yet she’d managed to build a lucrative career and, from the look of it, make a good deal of money in the process. What else might she have accomplished had a succession of heartaches not altered the course of her life?

“How long did you stay . . . after?”

“Not long. Once the babies were born, they wanted us out. A week later, Dorothy Sheridan came to me and said she’d found me a room and work. I was to pack my belongings and be ready to go the next day. When the work dried up in Providence, I moved to Boston, but when the men started coming back, it was impossible to find anything. I worked at a shoe repair shop for a while in exchange for room and board, and I took in sewing on the side. I had to share my meals with the mice, but I didn’t mind them so much. They were hungry too.”

“And you never spoke to Anson’s father again?”

“No. I took him at his word when he said he’d ruin me if I tried to contact him. Besides, I wanted nothing from him. I would have liked to have seen Thia again, though, to explain why I left so abruptly.” She paused, smiling wistfully. “And to tell her I finally got to make dresses with my name in them.”

“I’m still in awe,” Rory breathed. “To start with nothing and accomplish so much. How did you do it?”

“Like the heroines in all the best stories, I had a fairy godmother.”

Rory grinned at her. “How do I find one of those?”

“You don’t find them, chérie. They simply appear. Often, when you need them the most. And the how is different for everyone. Mine was named Maddy, and he was wonderful.”

“Your fairy godmother was a man?”

Soline flashed a grin. “He was.”

“All right, then, how did he find you?”

Soline’s smile dimmed. “That is a story for another day, I think.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to push.”

“You didn’t, but I’m tired.”

Rory looked at her watch, shocked to find it was after seven. She stood, collecting their cups and placing them on the tray. “I didn’t mean to stay so long. I was supposed to be picking out light fixtures. I’ll just help you clean up before I go.”