‘You’re amazing,’ Hannah said as he approached. ‘You really know how to reach these guys.’
‘I’ve been there,’ he said simply. ‘I understand what they’re feeling. Hey, I just want to make sure you are going to Father Luke’s birthday party tonight.’
‘Yes,’ said Hannah. ‘We are looking forward to it. Where is that restaurant again? I got a flyer in my mailbox but . . .’
‘Ebony’s Beans and Greens, at 56th and Walnut.’
The party, in celebration of Father Luke’s sixtieth birthday, was being given by his life partner — the man for whom he had given up the priesthood. Spencer White was a middle-aged, overweight accountant from the neighborhood. Spencer and Father Luke had quietly become a couple years ago. Both men were devoted to the work at Restoration House, Father Luke as an employee and Spencer as a volunteer. The birthday party was going to be a simple affair but it promised to be special for Hannah and Adam, who rarely ever went out. ‘I’m bringing my husband, Alan,’ she said. ‘I want everyone to get to know him a little bit.’
‘I look forward to meeting him,’ said Frank. ‘I was beginning to wonder if he actually existed.’
‘He exists, I promise you,’ said Hannah, smiling.
‘Where does he work?’ Frank asked.
‘Well, he’s kind of a roving troubleshooter. He works for a group called the Geek Squad. They go out on calls to help people with computer problems,’ she said. She did not say that it was a difficult way for a man to make a living after being in charge of IT at a local phone company. Considering their situation, Adam felt lucky to have steady work.
‘Wow, maybe he can help me,’ said Frank. ‘I can’t do squat-all on that old computer of mine.’
‘He probably could,’ she said.
‘OK, well, I’ll see you there,’ said Frank. He waved his prosthetic hand as he headed off toward the kitchen in the back of the house. Hannah went in the direction of the nursery.
The nursery was the most cheerful room in the rundown, nearly crumbling West Philly mansion. The grateful families of vets who had once found respite there had donated cots, books and toys. Two of the young women from Penn who volunteered on weekends had enlisted art students to paint a colorful mural on the wall.
Hannah stood in the doorway and looked in. Sydney was busily engaged with two other children in a game of go fish on a toddler-sized table. The teacher, a lovely, brown-skinned young woman named Kiyanna Brooks, who wore steel-rimmed glasses and long, elaborate cornrows, gave Hannah a signal to stay quiet till the game was over. Hannah smiled and nodded, gazing in at Sydney.
For all of the past year, Hannah had watched Sydney obsessively, like a doctor watching a transplant patient, for signs that she was rejecting this new life they had grafted on to her old world. Sydney’s new friends knew her as Cindy, and she had adjusted pretty quickly to that. Hannah, Sydney and Adam lived in walking distance from Restoration House in a Victorian brownstone owned by an elderly black woman named Mamie Revere. Mamie lived on the first two floors and the Wickes, now known as the Whitmans, lived on the third floor in an apartment which was fairly light, if a bit cramped, and almost devoid of modern conveniences. Hannah often caught herself starting to bemoan the lack of air-conditioning and a dishwasher. It wasn’t as if there was any remedy for that situation. The apartment would simply not accommodate some of the appliances Hannah wistfully craved. Neither would their finances, which had been strained ever since they left Tennessee. It was just another thing to get used to.
If Sydney disliked it in the city, her new home, she never made it known to Hannah and Adam. She went to a daycare in the next block each morning, and afterwards Hannah collected her and brought her to the nursery at Restoration House, while Hannah helped out with counseling programs for veterans and their families.
‘Go fish!’ Sydney cried, and the game soon came to an end as a little boy at the table threw down his oversized cards and declared victory.
‘No fair,’ Sydney insisted.
Hannah stepped in before a fight broke out. ‘Come on, Cindy,’ she said, taking the child by the hands. ‘Time to go see Mamie. Did you know you’re staying at Mamie’s till we get home tonight?’
‘Where are you going?’ Sydney demanded.
‘To a party for Father Luke,’ said Hannah.
Sydney looked stricken. ‘I want to go to a party,’ she insisted.
‘You and Mamie will have your own party,’ Hannah assured her.
Indeed, two hours later, as Hannah came down the two flights of stairs from their apartment and stuck her head into Mamie’s living room, she could smell something suspiciously like the scent of a cake baking wafting out into the hallway. Mamie’s house was often redolent of chicken cooking, and lavender potpourri, covering up a certain mustiness from well-worn furniture and a long-overdue refresher of the paint job, but tonight, even with the front windows open to let in the autumn air, it smelled decidedly of caramel and sugar.
‘Mamie,’ Hannah cried. ‘We’re here.’ She turned to Sydney, whose hand she was holding. ‘I want you to be good for Mamie. Do everything she says.’
‘I will,’ said Sydney. ‘I’m always good.’
‘Yes, you are,’ said Hannah, bending to kiss Sydney’s cheek and ruffle her soft fair hair.
Mamie came bustling out from the depths of the house, and immediately ordered Sydney to take off her shoes
